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chiliiscereal · 3 years

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I hate you

Daryl’s adopted daughter

Chapter 1

Summary: Diana is a girl on the run in the apocalypse. Her past chases her no matter where she goes. One day, by chance, she meets Daryl Dixon. Thinking she’s a walker, he shoots her and brings her back to their camp. Shane strikes a deal with her: she has to stay for two weeks before she can decide if she wants to stay. But Diana is determined to keep her past in the past, and never make the same mistake again

Season 1 - I’m not sure yet

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Diana sat in a circle with her family. Blood dripped down her neck from her lips.

Everything was red.

Red

How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly?

Her eyes never left the blond man she once knew. She watched him as her fury and fear grew louder and louder, echoing off her skull.

That was, until Negan stepped out of the van. He walked about the circle, until his eyes landed on her.

"Fancy seein' you again, Darlin'."

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Rick stumbled into the street, a hospital gown draping his skin. He knew there was something wrong. There was something off. Maybe it was intuition...

Or maybe it was the woman, chopped in half, chomping her teeth to get at his ankles.

He rubbed his eyes, the sun glaring right into his vision. It had been a week and a half since the start, and a day since his IV ran dry. It had been even longer since he last saw the sun.

Where was everyone?

Why hadn't he waken up to nurses and doctors?

Or his family's familiar faces?

He spotted bodies. Bodies walking. Maybe three.

He couldn't understand... he couldn't understand any of it...

The light off a gun reflected into his eyes. He blocked it and moved to see where it was coming from.

The revolver was placed in the holster on the side of a walker. The man... or whatever he was now... shuffled toward Rick.

He was deathly pale.

"Sir," Rick's voice cracked, "sir, are you okay?" He held his hand out, trying to make it a comforting gesture to someone possibly in need.

Edging closer, the man stared at him with hungry dead eyes. His clothes were torn and draped off his skinny frame, his eyes laid sunken in his face.

"Sir?" He asked again, stumbling back.

The man growled and advanced further.

"Are you-?"

With a blur, the man was down.

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Rick let out a horrified gasp.

On the ground was a little girl, around Carl's age, placing her knife in the mans forehead. Her light blond hair, tucked under her baseball cap, clung to her dirty face. The crunch echoed in Ricks head, reverberating off his skull.

That was the first walker he had ever seen killed.

She quickly wiped her knife on the walkers shirt and snatched his revolver. She opened the back to check how much ammo was left. Satisfied, she clicked it shut and began patting the double dead man down.

"W-why did you do that?" Rick found his voice again.

She leaped back, her bright blue eyes finding his.

Quickly, she pulled herself up and began to dash away. If Rick hadn't lunged out and caught the back of her shirt she would have disappeared as soon as she apparated into his line of sight.

"No. You can't leave yet." He spun her around to face him. It was evident how terrified she was. Especially with her eyes as wide as dinner plates and hands clawing at his arm. "Why did you kill that man?"

She glared at him and wriggled harder. "Man?" She gasped, "that... that wasn't a man!" Her hands fought to unclamp Ricks grip. "That's a Walker! He would have eaten you if I hadn't stopped him!" She grunted with effort. "Didn't even see you. You already look dead."

"What do you mean by dead?" Rick questioned, holding tighter.

"Gone. Deceased. vamosed. Perished." With each word she struggled. "Now let me go!"

Rick was about to question again, when he felt the stitches on his side rip. With a grunt, he let her go and fell to the ground. His hand cupped his side.

"Please.." he stopped to breathe heavily as the girl watched him warily. "I don't know what's happening. I woke up in the- in the hospital." He glanced down at his side to eye the bleeding. "The sun will be setting soon... and I need help."

The girl glanced at the lowering sun. Tapping her foot, she glowered at the ground. "How can I trust you." It wasn't a question. It was as if she was challenging him to be wrong.

Rick attempted to stand, only to find himself back in the ground. "I was a cop. My job was to protect the people. ALL people. And I like to think I did a good job of that."

She stuck the revolver in her holster (which was clearly stolen based on how big it was). "Prove it."

"I don't have my badge or my hat. That's at my house. But I'm officer Rick Grimes. I've been on the force for seven years. My partner was Shane Walsh. I was in my car when we got a call about a run away car. I was shot in action and hospitalized." His eyes seemed to beg her to help him.

Diana tried to fight the raging war in her head.

She knew better.

She knew to trust no one.

Her father and mother both betrayed her trust.

Why trust again?

But... she could tell when people were lying. All people have tells. Her fathers tell was him avoiding eye contact. He always looked at the ground. For her mother, she always played with her wedding ring.

But this Cop... sheriff... man... was not lying.

He looked her dead in the eye.

"Fine. Come with me." She hadn't known that she was gripping her new revolver until she released it. "I have a place in the sewers. I know... in most movies that's where walkers would be. But how would someone get down there in the first place? You'd have to move the lid." She walked over to Rick and slung his arm over her shoulder to help him stand in any way. "And most walkers," she grunted "are pretty stupid."

"Thank you...for helping me." Rick stated gratefully.

"I have some house rules, you know."

"Name them." He said confidently as they shuffled down the street.

"One: you're gone when you can walk."

"You don't want someone to watch your back?" Rick was surprised. Usually, kids jumped at the chance for safety. The ones he has worked with in cases of violence had immediately decided he was trustworthy.

"the worlds changed. You can't trust people." He noted the grim expression on her face. He wanted to ask why, but he figured it was better to stay silent.

"I'd argue about that, but I'll hear out your other rules." He wrapped his arm around his side again, fingering the broken stitches.

"Two: you do as I say or you die."

"Yes ma'am."

Rick couldn't help but like her spunk. She was serious, but it wasn't much of a threat coming from an eleven year old girl.

"3: ..." she started only to trail off.

"...3?"

She cleared her throat and resituated Ricks arm. "You repay my kindness if we ever cross paths again. I don't care how."

"Was already planning on it." He grinned. He could feel the conversation beginning to die, so he started it back up again. "What's your name, kid?"

She hesitated, eyes staying on the road. "Diana." She spoke softly. "My mother named me after the Roman goddess of the night."

Rick smiled. "Pretty name."

Diana's thoughts drifted to her mother. Her mother with her honey brown hair and warm chocolate eyes. She stopped her thoughts there. "Well... what about you, officer friendly? You got a name?"

Rick laughed. "My names Rick Grimes. I ain't named after the moon goddess, but I think it has a nice ring to it. Don't you?"

She forced down a smile. "Pretty name."

He chuckled. "Well, Diana, I am glad I ran into you."

~~~~~

They arrived at the sewer lid.

"Here we are. I've been camped out here since early yesterday morning." She slipped under Ricks arm and got down to lift the lid. With a couple tries, and an offer from Rick for assistance, she lifted the lid.

She stood up and dusted off her hands. "I'll go down first and scope out the area. Need to make sure it's still clear. Then I'll help you down."

She began her descent.

Rick watched the top of her light haired head fade into the darkness with each step. He briefly thought she would try and make a run for it. Escape through the sewers.

He immediately dismissed it. Why would she waste daylight by helping him? The sound of her footsteps hitting the water at the bottom and echoing as she walked down the tunnels set him on edge.

Especially when they began to fade.

He sat patiently for over ten minutes, watching the sunlight tick by. He looked down into the darkness, listening for any sound. There was nothing... not even a whisper.

Maybe she did leave.

"Alright, Sheriff, get down here! It's clear!" Her voice reverberated loudly from the tunnels so suddenly, that Rick stumbled back.

"I don't have all day! Unless you wanted to be walker chow, get down here!"

Rick chuckled as he began to shuffle his way down the tunnel.

"Any day now, Deputy Fossil!" She shouted.

"Hold your horses, kid." He slowly lowered himself into the dark. He looked down to see where his feet were going to land, spotting the flashlight that Diana held. Her light hazel eyes reflected impatience.

"Nice place." He said, clearly biting back his truth.

"Don't be fake." She said as she kicked at the water. "It smells like a pig ate dirty gym socks, farted, and died."

"I was trying to spare your feelings."

"Don't bother. I'm leaving this place as soon as you're ready."

Rick finally landed on the bottom of the sewer. "You got a place you're headed to?"

Diana shook her head. "No. Just a place I never want to see again."

Rick stopped moving to look at her. "Troubled home life?"

She thought about it and shrugged. "I guess you could call it troubled home life. It was home once. But this apocalypse changes people."

"I'm sorry kid."

"Don't be. That's just life."

Rick opened his mouth to say more, but Diana beat him to it.

"Alright, lets move." She motioned for him to follow.

The place she had holed up in was dryer than most spaces. There were a couple of dirty blankets placed on the ground and a first aid kit. Some batteries were sprinkled on top.

"You can sit there. I can stitch you back up." Diana pointed at the wall. Their part of the sewer was a dead end so they wouldn't be surprised.

"Thank you."

Diana hadn't stitched wounds before, but she did well enough.

Rick tried starting a conversation again but she told him she needed silence to focus.

~~~~

"Are you sure you want to travel by yourself?"

Diana nodded as she packed her things. "Very sure. You're nice and all, but you don't want to travel with me."

The Georgia sun had risen already and they both were preparing for departure in the street

"Do you have any family to find?" Rick questioned.

"I already know where they are. And they don't want me either." The girl looked down, avoiding eye contact.

"If we ever meet again, you better give me more details." Rick narrowed his eyes and pointed at her. "I deserve to know more about the little girl who saved me."

"Once a cop always a cop I guess." Diana said slyly. She looked back at him. "What about you? Any family?"

She eyed a walker down the street but decided it was too far away to pursue.

"I got a son and a wife. My son's your age actually. 11." Rick looked through the neighborhoods. "I don't know where they are, but I'll protect them. They need me."

Diana squinted in the direction he was looking at, seeing nothing. "You'll find them, chief." She patted his shoulder, having to reach up very high.

"It was nice to meet you, Diana." Rick said, a little sad that they were parting. Possibly that he would no longer have company. Maybe that he didn't have enough time to get to know her well. "I don't know if I'll see you again, but you helped me without anything to gain."

Diana scoffed. "I'm not a good kid."

"You're right."

Diana looked up, confused.

"You're one of the best."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Go. You have people to find."

"From the looks of thangs, so do you."

"I don't have people."

"You'll find them. Just a matter of where and when." He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

She placed a brown bag in his hand instead. "It's for the road. There's batteries, water, a flashlight, food, bandages, antibiotics, and one more thing..." she unbuckled her holster and handed it to him, along with the revolver. "You need these more than I do."

Rick tried to push it back to the little girl. "No I can't take this. You need it."

"No, you do. You're gonna help people, Rick. You're gonna help so many. You gotta find your people." She pushed it back to him. "I'm gonna be fine. I spotted a gun down the road that I'm gonna check out later."

Rick gave her a solemn look before accepting it. "If you can, head to Atlanta. The CDC is near there and there's bound to be survivors."

"I don't need survivors."she rolled her eyes.

"They may need you, kid. Ever think about that?"

She stayed silent for a moment. "Stay safe, sherif fun sponge." She shook his hand, even though he hadn't offered it yet. "I hope we meet again."

"We will." He smiled. "I don't know how or when, but we will. I have a debt to pay."

She wanted to return the smile but couldn't. "I hope you find them."

"You to."

With that, they went separate ways.

Next fifty chapters posted on noandisaidno on wattpad!

#for you #bookish #disney #digital art #small artist #tik tok #tik tok art #wattpad #fanfic #percy jackson #twd imagine #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd negan #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x daughter!reader

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bruhstories · 3 years

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Vogel und Jäger

- PART TWO

Summary: After waking up, you realise the realities of the world you've been pulled into. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (mafia AU) Warnings & Content: stabbing, language, angst Word Count: 1.7 k

A/N: make sure to read part one, otherwise this won't make any sense xD there's still a bit of build up going on, but starting with part three we'll be getting some action

You woke up from a restless sleep, crumbs of mascara stuck to your face. God, you needed a shower and a toilet immediately. The club was dead empty from the view upstairs, only a few people cleaning the tables and moping the floor. You stretched your arms and walked to the door, surprised it wasn't locked.

"Ah, miss Y/L/N, good morning! I hope you had a pleasant sleep." Someone startled you and you cleared your voice.

"Hi, who are you?"

"Oh, my apologies, I am Onyankopon." The man smiled and handed you a paper bag. You peekee inside and saw something which resembled clothes and toiletries. You recognised the stag pin in his chest, another of Zeke's employees. "I assume you'd like to clean yourself up. Please follow me."

"I'd love that, thank you." You smiled and followed Onyankopon downstairs. He told you bits and pieces of the Jaeger family overthrowing the police and gaining control of Paradis City, how the Marleyans wanted control over the city's resources and docks, all kinds of information you weren't entirely sure you were supposed to know. He walked you to the backstage, where all the strippersdancers got ready, encouraging you to use whatever you needed for you'd be the star of the club. That didn't help you in any way, instead it was anxiety-inducing, and your toes curled at his affirmation. You quickly took off last night's makeup, brushed your teeth, washed your face and body in a sink and got dressed. The clothes were simple, a long, light blue shirt — clearly a man's — and a pair of leggings. You wondered whom they belonged to, perhaps that grim-looking lady, Yelena. She terrified you with her look that could kill. Your hands hovered over the vanity in the dressing room but decided not to waste any more time and folded your old clothes, placing them in the paper bag.

"I'm ready." You walked out of the room and met with Onyankopon. He smiled and guided you out through the back door. "Hey, Onyankopon, who's Mikasa?"

"Oh, miss Mikasa is our best assassin. She's loyal only to Eren, though, which is an impediment for Zeke... I probably shouldn't have said that." He opened the door of a superb black car and you climbed inside with a sigh. You heard how the mafia was based on trust, and no one trusted you.

Most of the ride was silent, your eyes wandering out the window until Onyankopon parked in front of a huge and heavily guarded mansion. You knew the Jaegers were rich, but this was beyond obscene. You opened the door and Onyankopon scolded you for doing that, but you assured him you were perfectly capable of doing things by yourself. He walked you through the beautiful front garden of the mansion, through the large hallway and into what you assumed to be a living room. Or an office? Whatever that was, it was as big as the dining room of the orphanage.

"Ah, the little bird has arrived! You look splendid in my shirt." Zeke welcomed you and you felt your cheeks warm up at his words. The heat disappeared just as quickly when your eyes met with Yelena's. "Come, sit. I suppose you're hungry."

You nodded, feeling saliva building up in your mouth at the sight of croissants, bagels and all kinds of foods you've never had before. Historia was rich, but even her money wasn't enough to feed so many mouths. Doors swung open and you saw Eren barge in, followed by a few people close behind. He plopped on a couch opposite you, the same inexpensive look on his face.

"Let's get over with this. I've got shit to do."

"Impatient as always." Zeke rolled his eyes. "Y/N, do you swear to obey and serve the Jaeger family?" The question caught you off guard, but you nodded.

"I do."

"There, done." The older Jaeger brother shrugged and Eren clicked his tongue.

"You almost didn't let Mikasa walk out of this room alive because she swore loyalty to me and this is all you do to her? You're getting soft, brother."

The air in the room grew thick, almost impossible to breathe it in. All eyes were on you, and you didn't know if what you felt was shame or fear, or both.

"Very well." Zeke walked behind you and took your left hand, placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Hold that there, will you, love?" He smiled and you slightly relaxed. Until — a sharp pain, followed by electricity and heat shot from your hand, through your arm. A blood-curling scream erupted from your throat, tears falling from the corners of your eyes as you squirmed and thrashed at burning sensation, your hanned pinned to the table with a knife. Blood seeped from the wound and you panicked, no one in that room rushing to your aid. No one blinked, no one felt sorry. "Swear your loyalty to me. To the Jaeger family."

"I swear! Oh, God, I s-swear! Please!" You begged, feeling your temperature falling from your cheeks. Zeke twisted the knife and you fell from the couch, knees hitting the wooden floor.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked, unphased by your whimpers, sobs and yelling, as he let go of the knife that still pierced your flesh.

"T-to you! Make it stop, p-please!"

"Good enough for me. Any objections?" Zeke eyed his little brother.

"Just stitch her hand. She's annoying." Eren clicked his tongue and poured himself a cup of coffee. When Onyankopon pulled the knife out, blood gushed out of the fresh wound and you felt the room spin and your head heavy, vision blurry — you fainted.

A hard slap across your cheek woke you up and you met with Yelena, eyes drifting to your bandaged hand. It was damn painful to move it, and you used your other hand to support your weight, shifting your position on the couch.

"Finally." Eren got up and and handed you a file. You flipped through it and found pictures and information of the men from the club.

"Y/N, this is Armin, our bookkeeper. He'll be paying you after every successful show. And this is Mikasa, she'll train you in self-defence. I suspect you won't need it, but it's better to be safe than sorry." Zeke pushed the glasses with his index finger.

"You stabbed me." You bluntly stated, eyes glued to the bandages.

"It'll heal."

"It'll heal? I'm already in debt, you didn't need to stab me!" You got up and instantly felt a gun to your head. Great.

"Sit." Yelena's voice was brash and commanding. Your brain told you to listen to her, but your instincts told you to provoke her, to taunt her. Teeth gritting, you took a deep breath and lowered yourself down, deciding to do both.

"You're not gonna shoot me without Mr. Jaeger's permission, so don't point your gun at me." A satisfied smirk creeped on your lips — you didn't technically provoke her, just stated the obvious.

"Can I shoot her?"

"No." Zeke enjoyed the show, and unbeknownst to you, he, too, felt somewhat proud of your little snarky remark. "You still have to prove your loyalty. Talk to the band, choose some songs for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. You're free to settle your training hours with Mikasa, and to go wherever you want, but you are not allowed to step foot anywhere outside the centre of Paradis. Last thing I need is some Marleyan kidnapping you and torturing you for information. Or the cops. Dismissed."

"Mr. Jaeger, if I may?" You waited for his nod of approval. "Since I won't be living at the orphanage anymore, where exactly am I going to stay?"

"Ah, yes, of course. Blouse, Springer, come here." Zeke waved his hand. More people, more names.

It slowly dawned to you that the Jaegers had a thorough structure with extremely loyal people, and you'd have to quickly find your place there and earn their trust, lest you died a painful death. A bubbly brown-eyed woman and a cheerful-looking man approached Zeke's desk, and finally you saw someone less serious. Onyankopon was nice and all, but he wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine. These two seemed... fun.

"These are Sasha Blouse and Connie Springer, leaders of the drug cartel. You'll stay with them until you're capable of living by yourself."

The duo smiled at you and you felt genuine warmth from them, making you wonder just how bad the mafia was. They seemed to like working for the Jaeger brothers, but you couldn't judge that just yet.

"Oh, we've already moved your stuff to their place, so there is no need for you to visit Historia. Now go, we've got work to do." Zeke placed a cigarette between his lips before turning his back at you.

You were right, Sasha and Connie were fun people. They talked a lot, and you warmed up to them with a few jokes and puns. Connie handed you a phone containing a few contacts, neither of which were Zeke or Eren— apparently you weren't allowed to speak to them, they would speak to you. Sasha explained how you had to forget your past, and dedicate yourself solely to the family — no relationships, no friends, no acquaintances. You were not permitted to fall in love, which was understandable, considering the circumstances, but hard, considering the inability to control feelings.

"Don't worry about it too much. Zeke and Eren care about their subordinates, as long as you listen." Connie wrapped an arm around your neck. Besides, you're one of the lucky ones. Boss never spares witnesses, so he clearly saw potential in you." Somehow, that didn't make you feel any better, you only felt more weight on your shoulders.

"Yeah, I heard you can sing!" Sasha beamed, clapping her hands. "I can't wait for your first show, I bet it'll be awesome."

"It has to be, otherwise you'll have to come to my funeral." You shook your head, exiting Jaeger Manor. A honk caught your attention and you saw Mikasa impatiently waiting for you in a car. "Any advice before I go?"

"Don't get attached to any of us." Connie sighed.

"But trust that the family will protect you if you're loyal." The woman encouraged you before hugging you. A hug, something you never thought you'd get from a mobster.

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limenysnocket · 3 years

Text

The Plan

Summary: It's your birthday (hooray!) and you still have to work (not so hooray). Nevertheless, you can still count on your friends to cheer you up, but not as much as your loveable boyfriend who insists you spend your birthday with him and a romantic dinner, rather than at a party your friends set up.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, Taika (yes, he gets his own warning), some content may be explicit-ish.

Request: @whatwememeintheshadows

A/N: So people are actually planning their fics nowadays???? Did I not get the memo or something??? These come straight from my head????

THIS IS SO LATE I'M SORRY. Happy (very) belated birthday.

Tags: @honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl

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Okay, so maybe work was less of a bitch today, you had to admit. People were nicer to you today, you got an extra thirty minutes added on to your lunch break just because, and, of course, you got a couple of dirty birthday cards and some cash, but that really shouldn’t matter, should it? What did matter, is that you would get to have some you-time, all by yourself, with your vibrator, a couple of movies, and some nice, low calorie ice cream (that tasted like total shit). At least... That’s what you thought would happen.

“You should totally come party with us! I’ve got the booze, Jess has the men, and we’ll make a whole night out of it! Alcohol, strippers, and dancing! How does that sound?” your friend, Enid, reiterated everything for you at least one thousand times today.

“If I wanted a stripper, I’d ask Taika to dye his hair, shave himself everywhere, and oil up a little. That’s the only sight I’d be happy to see, thank you,” you huff and smile. You appreciate the effort to get you out and about, possibly be a little frisky, but your heart just wasn’t in it, and that was much to Taika’s luck.

“Oh, come on. Taika can’t have that much of a grip on you! He has a lot of ‘female friends’, so what’s wrong with you having some ‘male friends’ hm?” Jess cooed to you, but you immediately whirled around, insulted that she would even suggest that you would do such a thing. And you were sure Taika had female friends, yes, but they were just friends. Nothing else. Although, his flirtatious behavior scared you sometimes, at parties. Some of the women would just swarm him, and you feared any one of them would catch his fancy more than you did.

“No. I don’t want strippers at whatever the hell you’re planning,” you stated again, firmly this time. Your two friends whined again, Jess lowering her head in defeat.

“Fine, but can we still bring booze? Invite a few more friends to party?” Enid asked, setting a hand on your shoulder and pleading to you with large eyes.

You chew at your cheek and think for quite some time. Your friends want to throw you a genuine party, and God knows how long it’s been since you’ve hung around a group of unfamiliar faces, especially since you started to date a Hollywood writer. Maybe it was just what you needed. Taika was supposed to be busy for the night, anyway.

You succumbed to the pressure, and nodded. “Okay,” you agreed. “But if we get any noise complaints, your talking to the cops for me.”

“Hell yeah! You’re not going to regret this! Just you wait! Go home and clean your place up a little. I’ll be by in an hour or two to get things set up!” Enid clapped her hands together in mischief, and Jess suddenly looked more spry. You gave her a warning glance, and she only grinned back, before skipping away, chatting gayly with Enid at her side.

You can’t believe the shit you just got yourself into, and you still wouldn’t believe it, the moment Enid and Jess arrived with their arms full of cheap liquor, streamers, finger foods, and a bunch of colorful-looking lights that look like they just came from a Wal-Mart Christmas sale. As soon as you gave them the go-ahead, they started tearing shit open. Between setting up, your phone started to ping over and over again, as well as your friends’ phones. Apparently, just a few hours was enough time to notify everyone in LA about a party, who it was for, and where it was going to be at.

You just sat back and sipped on frozen margaritas (meant for the party, but it's your party so you didn't give two shits), until the party started and there was a heavy flow of people rushing into your home. Invited or uninvited.

When things started getting wild, that's when a pact was made. Enid and Jess would be cleaning up your house after this was over. You were already stepping over beer cans as it was.

You can't even say you were having fun there. You barely knew anyone. Most of the people there were just randoms looking for a good time, and unfortunately you saw some of them getting that good time in a dark corner. You made an excuse to run upstairs and lock all the doors of the bedrooms before anyone could think about getting there. That's what you thought, at least.

The party was getting to be too much, too quickly. In haste, you locked yourself into your bedroom, and took a step back. You could still hear the muffled voices and loud, posh laughter on the other side of the door. Those girls would pay. You rush over to your window, overlooking your backyard and see people divebombing into your pool, creating waves and getting people outside of the pool wet. People were leaving their trash everywhere, and many red, plastic cups floated in the (for now) clear waters. You didn't know how much more you could take. Maybe parties weren't your thing after all. Especially with strangers.

You sit back on your bed and you don't even bother looking out the window anymore. It was best to stay inside your room, if you didn't want to be molested or assaulted by some dumbass who thinks it's okay to anonymously grope women in crowded areas. Your face buries in your hands, griping to yourself how this would be over in a few hours. Right?

There's a subtle knock on your door, and you jump. It's in the regular, stiff-three order, so you are very hesitant about going and getting it. Then, there comes the "shave and a haircut" tune. Not a very good one, and kind of slurred, guessing by the way there was a loud thud at the very end, the person knocking was shoved against the door. Damn you and your pity.

You're quick to move, despite the strong feeling telling you not to. You just knew some poor soul was being smooshed out there. Fuck, you were nervous. This was screaming bad idea, but you were going to pull through anyway. The plan in your head seemed childish, but it should work fine if the person was desperate enough to get in. One quick swipe of the door, and you're golden! Surely...

You flick the doorknob lock and gulp, keeping a tight grip. On the count of three-- and after having to restart because another desperate knock jumbled up your thoughts-- you sent the door flying open. Sure enough, a heavy body came tumbling in with it, tripped, tried to balance, then ended up crash-landing cartoonishly into your bed, bonking their head a tad on the wooden post at the end of the frame. You hissed a little bit, then closed the door again. You rushed to their aid as the person looked up.

"I thought you liked private parties more than this," a soft, kiwi accent cooed at you, obviously through unbridled pain. This bewildered you even more.

Taika was sitting on the floor, legs extended out in front of him, making him look like a giant from your angle, and he was dressed in a blue tux, black dress shirt, and polished black shoes. Well, they seemed a little scuffed now.

"Shit, Taika-- what the fuck are you doing here?" you drop to your knees and cradle his aching head. He winced at the touch, but was too happy to see you again to deny it.

"Well, I came to take you out on a surprise birthday dinner. Maybe pick up a bottle of wine and go dancing with my favorite person, you, under moonbeams and twighlight," his head bobbled from side to side, which didn't help his animated character, "but it seems to me you have company... and a lot of it."

You sigh and brush an unkempt curl back into place while he cheekily grins at you. "This wasn't my idea," you murmur. "Friends set this up. They'll also be the ones to take it down. I didn't really want to spend my birthday with anyone this year. Makes me feel old."

"Well, you seriously should have known someone was about to stop you from taking another bite of that shitty ice cream in your freezer. They dished it out in shot glasses down there. Even a sober chick couldn't handle the taste," Taika snorted playfully and you rolled your eyes. He seemed to be taking this situation surprisingly well. It was weird. "But it was much to my misfortune that your 'friends' got to you before I could. Maybe I should have settled on a birthday lunch, but that didn't sound too appealing to me."

"Would have been much better than the chicken salad and dry-ass piece of cake I had for lunch today," you fired back. He sighed again and stood up with a groan. You followed with him.

"What now?" he mumbled, stroking the stache on his upper lip, then letting the tips of his fingers wander down to his smooth, freshly shaved cheeks.

"Well, we're both stuck here, so I suppose we settle in for the night and wait it out." You plop yourself down on your bed again and just stare up at him. He doesn't move, however. His eyes were focused on the window, more specifically the lock on it, and he was nibbling at his bottom lip. He was thinking. Some people might call it strange to watch him think sometimes. He really was like a cartoon. With one tap of his foot, he spun around on his heel and faced you.

"New plan," he clapped his hands together. "Get dressed."

You were confused for the next fifteen minutes or so. He helped you pick out a deep blue dress that would somewhat match his and black heels. He was escorting you all over the room with his hand on your lower back. He even tried to do your makeup for you, but he was so inexperienced, you had to take over. The last time he had to do someone's makeup was on the set of the original, five-minute What We Do in the Shadows film.

While you finished your makeup, he was practically smooching your window. He was staring at it like a dog asking to go outside. It made you a bit nervous, seeing the cogwheels turn in his head. He took your hand and lead you to the window, unlocking it and pushing it up.

"Want to go first?" he said behind a proud smile. When he only received silence and a pure, "what the fuck," stare back to his face, he shrugged, and stepped out the window himself. Luckily, you knew fully well he wasn't about to fall flat on his face and die on the pavement below. You had a screened back porch, with a roof over it's head as well, since the seasons tend to get very hot and sticky and mosquitoes just love to lay visits. He stepped onto the roof, trying not to bring too much attention to himself. Once he had bounced down, he brushed himself off, then looked up at you, expectantly.

"Come on, then! Don't have all night!" he hollered and waved to you. "Need me to catch you?"

You gulped, not bothering to answer him. You gently scooted your lower half out the window and taking your heels into your hand. You didn't want to break an ankle on the landing. "Lord, give me strength," you muttered, squeezed your eyes shut, then took a leap of faith. You tried not to squeal as the rushing air flew by you like sticky wind, but before you knew it, your feet touched slanted ground. You felt like you were about to tumble, but strong hands met your waist and kept you up.

"Beautiful!" Taika beamed and kissed your flushed cheek.

"I hate you sometimes," you slapped his chest and made him laugh. He took your hand and started leading you to the other side of the porch roof, and came to the end, where your driveway supposedly was. Parked dead center was Enid's big, black SUV. Tall enough to just be a little hop away from the roof.

"One more, leap, dear?" Taika was on the move again, but you grabbed his sleeve before he could actually make the jump.

"Taika, no. That's Enid's car. She already spends so much on gas, think of how pissed she'll be if she has to remove dents from her roof!" you explain, nervous from the outcome of this little plan of yours.

"Sweetheart," Taika said airily, turning his full attention to you and taking your hand again. "If she was a good friend, she would have known a massive party like this would have pissed you off. Plus, I don't think just cleaning the house is going to get even with this God awful day. So, why not put a few dusty footprints on her car, hm?" Taika was back to grinning, and before you could say anymore, he had leapt away and landed on top of the car with a large thud. He motioned to you with a swipe of his hand. You were in way too deep with him to give up on him now.

You followed through, heels swinging in one hand, and he caught you again like the perfect, Maori prince charming he was.

Car hop, after car hop, he lead the way and made sure you were okay with every stop, until you reached a small enough car to hop down, scale the lawn and make it to his jeep.

"That was," you said, breathless. You couldn't find the right words, and Taika just chuckled at you.

"Exciting?" he filled in the blank space on his own, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah," you laugh, fanning your chest and brushing a single strand of hair back. "That's a good word for it."

"Well, excitement doesn't stop here," he opened your door into the jeep for you, bowing respectfully and playing everything up for you, like you were royalty. "I have everything set up for you to have a great night with yours truly. As long as everything goes according to the plan this time..."

#taika waititi #fanfiction #taika waititi x reader #what we do in the shadows #taika waititi imagines #taika waititi imagine #taika waititi x you #taika waititi/you

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mewhenleg · 4 years

Text

sɪʟᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ

sʜɪᴘ:

ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ x ᴘɪᴇᴛʀᴏ ᴍᴀxɪᴍᴏғғ

ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ:

ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟ / ᴀᴠᴇɴɢᴇʀs

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ:

ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ғɪɴᴇsᴛ sᴏ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ᴀ sᴛᴏʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴏɴ, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ ɪ ʙᴇɢ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs:

sᴍᴜᴛ (18+)

ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ: @goshdangitjay

A brother and a sister had been invited to stay at the Avengers Towers; Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, AKA The Scarlet Witch and QuickSilver.

Peter hadn't paid much attention to them when they first arrived. Of course, he introduced himself and smiled a lot or whatever, but really all he'd wanted to do was go back to being curled up under a blanket and watching shitty crime dramas while he cried until his head felt empty over nothing in particular.

It had been about two weeks since they had arrived, though, and Peter really hadn't gotten to know them very well. Just as he was thinking about this, (right as he was in the middle of watching "Cops in NY") none other than the silver haired speed-demon himself came sauntering in through the door. He looked up from his blanket nest and smiled softly.

"I figured I wouldn't see you outside of your room, so I came to say hi." Pietro said, coming to sit down next to him on the couch at the front of his rooms. Peter muted the TV.

"Uh- Hi. Mr, uh- Mr. Maximoff." Peter greeted, stumbling over his words as the man sat a little closer than what would be considered normal to him. His throat bobbed.

"Are you okay?" Pietro asked quietly, and it was only then that Peter realised his face was probably still red from the salty tears that had been falling down his cheeks earlier. He quickly looked away and wiped at his face- to no avail. He shoved the blankets off of himself, the room suddenly too hot and the walls too close. He clenched his hands into fists. Deep breaths.

Peter felt a hand graze his arm for a moment and turned around, but Pietro was just sitting back with that slightly-bored looking grace he always held himself with plastered across his beautiful features. He could've sworn he imagined the touch, but at least now he wasn't thinking about things that would inevitably lead to him breaking down in front of the other man. Pietro raised a brow.

"Oh- right. Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Totally- totally fine." Peter got quieter and quieter towards the end of his sentence, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. Pietro didn't seem to buy it. He couldn't blame him, to be honest.

"What troubles you?" He asked, his Russian accent like a purr against his skin. Peter swallowed thickly.

"Nothing, really, Mr. Maximoff. I've got all this stuff here and- and I'm not unhealthy or anything... and Mr. Stark pays me so much I could live for ten years on the moon if I wanted to." Peter justified, splaying his hands out in front of him as if it would make his point clearer.

"That doesn't mean you have no troubles." Pietro said with furrowed brows. Peter shrugged.

"Look at me- I've got a beautiful face, the perfect body, lots of money and a wonderful place to live in. And still, I am unhappy sometimes. I have troubles." Peter snorted at the oh-so-casual vanity that Pietro displayed.

"Like what? You can't stop checking yourself out?" Peter said before he could think twice. He immediately slammed his hands over his mouth and looked down, only taking them away to apologise quickly. Pietro laughed; a loud, booming sound that made heat rise to Peter's face.

"That is a constant battle I fight in, yes." Pietro supplied, clasping his hands over Peter's wrists and removing his hands from his face before leaning back again. All the colour on his cheeks from before increased tenfold, his face a glaring red. Pietro seemed unaffected and unfazed, perhaps a bit smug, if he was honest. Peter fell silent.

"You do not want to talk about it?" Pietro sort-of asked, more of an observation, really. Peter shrugged.

"I just want it all to go away for a while. I need a distraction." Peter looked up at Pietro when he spoke that last word - 'distraction' - and he wasn't entirely sure why. Pietro threw him a small smirk and leaned forwards, Peter only now noticing how much bigger the male was than him. A firm hand gripped his chin and forced his head up to look at him, Pietro's peppermint-and-honey scent stuffing itself up his nose. He felt lightheaded; drunk on it.

"Let me be a distraction." He said huskily, his voice lower than the farthest reaches of the ocean, a rusty purr that trailed sensuous hands over his body. Peter gulped.

"M-Mr. Maximoff, I- I don't think we should-" Peter protested, but before he could even finish, Pietro was at the door, waving goodbye before leaving. Peter was stunned into silence, his mind racing, heart beating out of his chest.

"You didn't think I'd actually leave, right?" A voice sounded from behind him. He jumped and almost fell off the couch, somehow landing in a pair of strong arms that hoisted him up against a firm chest instead of back onto the couch cushions. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment as he breathed in his scent, his eyes almost rolling backwards. Almost. He shot his eyes open as soon as he realised what he was doing.

"Mr. Maximoff- We shouldn't- I don't- what if-" Peter spluttered, but Pietro silenced him by dragging his hand along his ribcage and along the top of his thigh in a long, sensuous touch.

"Stop talking." Pietro whispered. His throat bobbed as he refrained from sighing in contentment. It took Pietro less than a second to take him to his room halfway across the tower, quickly laying the boy down on the bed and looming above him with his hands propped next to either side of his head.

"I can tell that you like it, Peter." Pietro's voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and yet it was still so beautifully deep and enticing. It made his toes curl, something he hoped Pietro didn't see, but he obviously did, setting off a dangerous smirk on the man's lips.

"You want more, don't you?" He carried on, his deft fingers now playing with the hem of his shirt, tracing over the sliver of skin beneath. Peter chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking away from Pietro's face as he continued to tease him, the older man tracing featherlight touches near but not quite where Peter wanted him. He fought back against the bulge forming in his pants, a battle he only half-won as his pants didn't tent, but instead only strained a little bit. It was enough for Pietro, apparently.

"See how it affects you?" He murmured, his hands brushing lightly across the small bulge forming. Peter bit back on a moan, no noise escaping him other than his uneven breathing. The battle he'd been having with himself was quickly lost, his trousers almost instantly tenting.

"How it makes you want more." He continued, his fingers creeping up his shirt now, ghostly touches trailing all over his chest, his stomach, his sides.

"How you react so beautifully to the slightest," Pietro paused and laid his hand flat against his sides, dragging it upwards and then down again. Peter arched his back almost imperceptibly, eyes squeezing shut, "Touch." Pietro finished.

"What would happen, Peter," Pietro mused, his fingers moving to tweak his nipples under his shirt. Peter sucked both his lips into his mouth and bit down on them to keep from moaning, "if I were to touch you in all the right places?"

Peter still hadn't made a noise, but it was clear how much this was affecting him by his heavy breathing and slight reactions, excluding the fact that his dick was painfully hard as well. Pietro smirked and reached a hand down to slip just past the hem of his baggy pants, making Peter swallow his own gasp.

"What would you do," He began again, his other hand gripping the back of Peter's head and threading through his hair, forcing him to look him in the eyes for a moment, "if I made you cum for me in a heartbeat?"

Pietro released his grip on the boy's hair. "And what if I touched you as fast as I could?" He asked, tapping different places all over Peter's body and eliciting all sorts of different reactions; lip bites, eye-shutting, toe-curling and fist-clenching being the mildest of them all. "What if you loved it?"

Peter looked up at Pietro with an expression cloudy with lust, then quickly snapped his eyes shut as he saw the expression on his face. He didn't think he could handle that amount of sheer hunger that shone on Pietro's face.

"What would happen, if I touched you so quickly," Pietro indeed dragged his deft fingers all over Peter's chest so fast that it felt like he was being touched everywhere all at once, "everywhere you wanted me to," his hand snuck past the hem of his pants and swiped once over his bulge, making Peter gulp audibly as he tried to stop himself from bucking his hips, "and made you cum in seconds?"

Peter's face was aflame, his heart pounding out of his chest and breathing ragged like a worn-out dog. He refused to look at Pietro, turning his head away defiantly.

"Why aren't you speaking, Peter?" He crooned, brushing the hair out of the boy's eyes with his slender fingers and tucking it behind his ears. Peter shifted his eyes to Pietro, and quickly looked away as the sheer power of his stare hit him like a brick to the face. Scratch that, he knew what that felt like, and it didn't even come close.

"Do I scare you?" Pietro asked, his voice coated with a hint of unease. Peter shook his head, somehow still managing to stay facing away from him.

"Didn't you say you wanted a distraction?" He asked, his hands now stroking idle circles on Peter's thighs. Higher than that. "I could distract you... I could distract you for a long, long time if you wanted me to." Pietro purred, his eyes boring into the side of Peter's head.

"I- I'm not used to- to these sorts of th-things..." Peter mumbled shakily, his eyes focused on the floor. Pietro slid his hand around to cup Peter's cheek, pushing his head sideways so he had to look at Pietro. He leaned down until their faces were barely an inch apart, meaning Peter was now trapped between closing his eyes and risking whatever Pietro would surely do to him - not that he entirely minded -, looking down and risk seeing the beautiful body pressing against his, or meeting his crushing stare. "Let me be your first." Pietro whispered and, like an idiot, Peter chose the first option, squeezing his eyes tight shut.

Before he even knew what was happening, Peter was being heaved up and pinned against a wall, his chest flush against the hard surface and ass sticking out slightly towards the tall, muscled man behind him. He'd almost forgotten about his ability to travel faster than the speed of light, and shoved the thoughts of the other things he could do with that sort of speed firmly out of his head.

Pietro held Peter against the wall by his back and wrists, his groin pressed firmly against Peter's ass. He blushed a dark crimson when he realised that Pietro was as hard as he was- if not moreso.

"You're so pretty, Peter," Pietro cooed, his hands trailing over the curve of Peter's ass. Peter bit the flesh of the arm he was leaning his forehead on, a strangled groan escaping him as Pietro slipped his fingers further down until he was tracing circles over the lump in Peter's pants, "I saw you when I first came here, smiling so forcefully as you greeted us," he went on, his hand now lazily palming him through his trousers. He stopped any noises he would've made this time by biting down on his tongue, "I wanted to know why you looked so upset when nobody was looking," he whispered, groping the top of Peter's dick through his jeans, "is it because there's nobody to pleasure you?" Pietro asked, but Peter knew it wasn't really a question.

"Is it because the people who do pleasure you are not good enough?" Pietro's voice became more growl-like as he spoke about the "people who did pleasure him". Nonexistent people.

"Talk to me, Peter. Your voice is so beautiful." Pietro purred, his hand stroking a long stripe down his spine. Peter gulped.

"I- I don't- I don't know-" Peter admitted in a whine, earning a low chuckle from Pietro.

"I can help you find out." Pietro returned, his hand again trailing down Peter's body and ghosting over his clothed erection. Peter bit down harshly on his bottom lip, but didn't quite stop the low whine that escaped him in time.

"You sound so pretty," Pietro whispered, "why do you hold your noises back from me?" Peter somehow turned impossibly redder, his ears the colour of Hawaiian red fruit punch. He still kept his mouth firmly clamped shut, maybe because he was too afraid of letting go, or maybe he was scared to admit that what Pietro was doing affected him. Peter wasn't entirely sure himself.

"Do you want me to pleasure you, Peter Parker?" Pietro purred, his hand stuffing up Peter's shirt and touching him so quickly, so lightly that he thought he might explode. It took more effort than he'd like to admit to tone down his loud moan to tight whimper. Pietro's hand stilled and Peter cursed his body for betraying him as he whined and tried to get Pietro to touch him again. Pietro chuckled, hardly a huff of breath from his nose.

"Is that a yes, sweet thing?" He purred, sliding his hands over Peter's front again, slower this time. Peter nodded slightly, a firm dip of his head.

"I need to hear you say it." He murmured. Peter drew in a shaky breath.

"P-please touch me, Mr. Maximoff." Peter whimpered, not entirely catching the look of pure lust that shone in his eyes at what Peter called him. Pietro's hands instantly tugged his shirt off, the clothing discarded on the floor before Peter could so much as blink, and then his beautifully smooth hands were on Peter's back, his chest, his sides. He stifled a cry by shoving his knuckle into his mouth, but Pietro slowed down and came to a stop.

"I want to hear your pretty noises, sweet thing." Pietro said, his hand reaching round and removing the knuckle Peter and stuffed into his mouth. Peter whimpered ever so quietly and shook his head.

"Don't- don't wanna. Avengers- the avengers will hear." Peter squeaked out, only a half truth.

"I can take us somewhere far away from them," Pietro whispered into Peter's ear, earning a gulp from the boy, "then you can scream my name all you like."

Peter shivered and nodded his head, and in an instant they were both in a fairly large room in what Peter could only assume was an apartment downtown. He flicked his eyes up to Pietro, worry shining in them.

"It's my apartment, don't worry." Pietro murmured, setting Peter down on the floor and immediately backing him into the wall, the two of them in the same position they had been in at the Towers. Peter pushed himself ever so slightly against Pietro, the man taking it as a signal and snaking his hands over Peter's exposed torso. He started slowly, massaging Peter's back and chest with his hands, then sped up, tweaking his nipples every now and again, and still, Peter held back his noises. No sound passed his lips aside from the occasional intake of a sharp breath when Pietro attacked his nipples with more force than usual.

"Are you holding back, sweet thing? Or does it not feel good enough?" He whispered the last part straight into Peter's ear, the promise of more pleasure dangling in front of his face. He gulped.

"N-no, I just- I don't-" Peter looked down at the floor, "I'm so new to- to all of this and- and I don't wanna mess it up by- I don't know..." Peter mumbled it all in one breath, but assumed that Pietro heard him when the touching started up again, only slightly slower than before.

"You are perfect, sweet thing. Just let go, let me hear your voice." Pietro said soothingly, his hands perhaps not aiming to please, but to soothe, to calm. At least for now. Peter nodded weakly and released a shaky breath, Pietro's fingers grazing over his nipples. His breathing hitched at the slight contact. The taller man ran his hands over the sensitive buds again, circling them lazily before pinching his fingers over them. Peter yelped in surprise, eyes widening.

"You like that?" Pietro asked in a purr, repeating the action and rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingers. Peter nodded with a whine, craving more of Pietro's touch. "Good." He murmured, trailing one of his hands down to Peter's clothed erection, slowly palming him through the fabric. Peter groaned and pressed himself against Pietro's hand, desperately asking for him to go faster.

"P-Pietro-" He whined as Pietro sped up, his hand slipping between the fabric of his boxers and his bare skin, stroking him leisurely.

"Mmm?" Pietro hummed in question, his movements quickening.

"Fe-feels good." Peter moaned, Pietro tearing his jeans and boxers off in a second. The taller male wrapped his hand around Peter's cock and pumped relentlessly, not even half as fast as he could be going. Peter whined and moaned, bucking his hips ever so slightly.

"Want me to speed up, sweet thing?" Pietro crooned, slowing down until he got his answer.

"God- yes-" Peter moaned, and Pietro instantly obliged, his hands quickening their brutal pace, maddeningly quick as he stroked Peter's cock.

"Oh- oh- oh- God- gonna-" was all Peter managed before he spilled all over Pietro's hand, paining the walls with white stripes of his cum. He panted like a dog, his teeth clenched and face flushed, the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground in a heap was Pietro's arm around his waist.

"You okay, my sweet boy?" Pietro asked, and Peter almost trembled at his use of the word 'my'. He nodded as his eyes fluttered shut again, Pietro hoisting him into the bed and slipping in beside him.

"You owe me." Pietro murmured against the crook of Peter's neck.

"Get fucked." Peter grumbled his response.

"That's the idea."

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beepbeeprichiellc · 5 years

Note

Hey! If you could write anymore of the best friend’s brother au with Stan and Eddie as brothers I would love to read it!!!

Yes I can. Part One.

Richie had never seen someone so pissed off in his life.

Sure there was that one time he had stolen Wentworth’s keys to take Betty Ripson to make out point, which ended with the loss of his virginity but even then there was a glimmer of knowing amusement in his father’s eyes when amidst the scorning. Now though-he knew that what honest and true annoyance looked like as Stan shot him the dirtiest look ever known to man. Mrs. Uris was cooing about having someone other than Mike over, practically fawning over the fact that Stan had more than one friend-not that the woman knew that Mike wasn’t exactly Stan’s ‘friend’-and asking him all about himself. Richie was in love with this, giving him something other than Stan’s annoyance to keep his attention.

Not that Eddie was giving Mrs. Uris a run for her money.

All he was doing was sitting there, in a school hodie and the same pair of sweats that had nearly given Richie an aneurysm earlier. Looking closer Richie realized that Eddie was an angel in disguise, his features soft and tangible, his voice like bells and every time he looked in Richie’s direction the air in the trashmouths lungs vanished. This was probably apparent to everyone except the parents, giving that Stan constantly growled out his answers and Eddie smirked when he did so.

“Yeah, my dad is a dentist and my mom stays at home. Although she has become quite a master of needle point here lately.”

“A dentist, that’s pretty neat.” Mrs. Uris replied, apparently fascinated with every word Richie spoke. “That must be why you are so polite, dentists always have polite kids.”

“How many dentist kids do you know there Andrea?” Mr. Uris asked, chuckling to himself. “Do you go around grading childrens politeness based on their parents occupation?”

Eddie snorted, nearly choking on his food in the process. “Sorry,” He sputtered out. “Went down the wrong tube.”

“Right,” Stan nipped, “And I’m Johnny Depp.”

“I didn’t know the Depp man was Jewish.” Richie playfully pointed out, earning a small chuckle from Eddie, causing the trashmouth’s heart to skip a beat. “You’d think they’d advertise that.”

“Anyways,” Mrs. Uris ushered, trying to keep her son form jumping from his chair and strangling Richie. “What are your hobbies Richie? Do you play any sports?”

“Oh god no.” He chuckled, earning an unimpressed look from Eddie. “I mean no offense but I’m not the most graceful person in the world.”

“I don’t know, have you ever seen Stan play any sport? It’s like watching a newborn calf walk.” Eddie laughed at his own joke, forcing Stan to toss his roll right into his chest. “Hey now, the truth hurts Stanley.”

“Now boys.” Mr. Uris warned, making both children halt their actions and mutter an apology under their breath. “Eddie her is on the track team at Saint Ann’s, they are expecting him to take state.” It was a brag, no doubt about it making Mr. Uris’s chest puff out and his wife smile. “Stan is set for an academic scholarship so both of the boys are looking at only the best colleges. A good extra curricular activity is good for you Richie, you should look into taking up something even if it’s like the chess team.”

“Richie is in the drama club.” Stan blurted, making Richie’s ears burn. “The president even, I think.”

“Wow.” Eddie whistled, coming to Richie’s defense. “That’s about as cool as Stan’s bird club.”

“Alright you know what Kasbrak?” Stan shot back, pointing his fork right at his brother. “If you wanna go there we can go there, remember that I have pictures of you with that stupid fanny pack on. Want me to bring those bad boys out?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Eddie hissed, narrowing his eyes.

Stan licked his lips. “Try me big boy.”

“Kasbrak?” Richie asked, the name sparking a memory in his brain. “Wait, are you related to Crazy Kaspbrak that lives down on 2nd?” The entire room went tense, making Richie realize his mistake immediately. The Uris’s became fascinated by their plates as Stan shoved his fork into Richie’s thigh. “Oh shit, I didn’t mean to-”

“I didn’t know Sonia had a nickname.” Eddie chuckled, his face twisting into an unreadable emotion. “Why didn't’ you tell me Stan?”

“It wasn’t something I thought you would be impressed with.” Stan quipped, staring down an already shrinking Richie. “It’s just a dumb name some kids gave her Eddie, no one thinks-”

“It’s fine.” Eddie cut, shaking his head. When his brother tried to speak again, he would have none of it. “Stan, it’s fine, really.” Looking at Richie he continued, “Sonia is my mother, although she’s nothing more than a birther to me.”

“Eddie…” Mr. Uris whispered softly, reaching out to his adoptive son but faltering when the phone began to ring from the kitchen. For a moment it looked like he was going to ignore it, but politeness won over as he pulled from the table and disappeared from the room. His voice still carried, the moment the person on the other line spoke, all politeness vanished. “I told you not to call here again.” Pause, “No, he doesn’t want to-”

Eddie sighed, rolling his eyes and excusing himself to go to Mr. Uris aid. His voice was much louder, much sharper and borderline pissy. “I told you not to call here again Sonia.” The name like venom to the dinner table. Stan looked sympathetic to Richie for the first time since his arrival, biting his lip and closing his eyes. “I don’t care what your therapist says, stop trying to contact me. You know what the judge said, I don’t have to put up with this bullshit anymore.” A very long pause, followed by. “Call here again and I’ll call the cops.” The slam of the phone caused everyone to flinch, their eyes advertising Eddie as he walked into the room. Eddie cleared his throat, making the parents look up. “Can I please be excused from dinner? I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Eddie, are you okay?” Mrs. Uris soothed, her eyes soft and inviting.

“I’m fine.” He assured, “Just tired.”

“Alright.” She replied, obviously unconvinced. “Goodnight son.”

“Goodnight.” His eyes lifted once more to meet Richie’s and a shiver ran down the trasmouths spine, settling down at the pace of his hip making him buzz. Once gone conversation lagged until it was over, and Richie was relieved when he and Stan could go back to their homework, although Richie’s mind kept wandering to the room next to Stan’s, ACDC blaring form it’s walls.

It was well past midnight before Richie realized Stan had actually passed out sitting upright. His mouth hung open, a deep breath coming from his lips. It wasn’t that Richie wasn’t impressed-because he was-it was that he knew how pissed he was going to be when he woke so to make sure he didn’t kink up his neck too bad, Richie literally tucked him. Once that was done he picked up the books and paper, careful not to disturb other things that Stan himself had organized. With a need for a cigarette making him itch.

Knowing that he had to be sneay, Richie chose the backyard for his secret smoke, careful not to make a single creek aas he snuck out. It was a relief, feeling the nicotine touch his lungs and he thanked every deity for whoever invented the damn cancer sticks. It was calm out here, Derry was fast asleep as well as it’s residences. A sweet release that only a cool night could bring and an easy feeling that a good breath provided. Richie was at peace.

“You know those things kill right?”

Richie nearly jumped out of his skin, obviously not expecting the sudden voice. It was Eddie, sitting on the porch swing, silently swaying to and fro. How in the hell Richie hadn’t noticed him was beyond him but there he was, in all his angelic glory. “Fuck, I didn’t know anyone was awake. I’m not-uh-this isn’t-”

“Calm down, I don’t care that you smoke.” Eddie reassured, waving away Richie’s fear of being outed. “Did mean to scare you, sorry about that.” He didn’t sound one bit sorry, his smirk an indication of his amusement. “What are you doing up? Isn’t Stan’s bedtime like nine o’clock?”

Richie chuckled, “Yeah, he straight up passed out while writing. Not a night owl is he?”

“Never has been.” Eddie nodded, “Does have a tendency of waking up early though. It’s super annoying.”

“Hmm.” He hummed in response, taking in the last drag before flicking the bud onto the ground and stomping on it. “And what about you? What are you doing awake this late?”

“I don’t sleep much.” Eddie shrugged, crossing his legs. “Come out for fresh air when I’ve got a got alot on my my mind.”

“What what do you have on your pretty little mind Eds?” The nickname just slipped out, tumbling down his front before falling between them with no grace whatsoever. He thought about taking it back but it stuck with him, Eds. His Eds.

“That’s not my name.” Eddie corrected, rolling his eyes. “Eddie already is a nickname dumbass.”

“I like it.” He admitted. “And that’s not really an answer.”

Eddie sat there for a moment, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips. “I’ll tell you what,” He sange, standing from the swing and strolling towards where Richie stood. “I’ll tell you what’s on my mind if you take a walk with me.”

“A walk?” He repeated, raising an eyebrow. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Hmm.” Eddie passed by him, turning so that he was walking towards the gate backwards, his sparkling eyes inviting the trashmouth to join in the sins that the night held. “So it is.”

“Wait, what are you-”

“Come on Richie, where is your sense of fun?” Eddie playfully jested, licing his lips and pushing open the exit with his hip.

Richie knew Stan’s rule.

Knew what he had promised.

But those eyes, that smirk, it called to him in a way that couldn’t be ignored. It was an invitation, a sudden need to fulfill any of Eddie’s request that made Richie want to run head first through that gate. Somewhere deep down he knew that it would only cause his best friend to scold him in the morning but that was hours away, which right at that moment felt like a century. There was no use in arguing, which is why Richie followed, his heart leading him out into the streets and into the unknown.

Eddie fucking Kaspbrak, Richie thought, you are going to be the death of me.

#it #it au #requested #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kasbrak #best friend stan #best friends sibling au

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