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warmau · 4 years

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★ donation request: suburbia summer nights house party!au jaehyun

the summer night air is too sticky and too sweet for your liking

you had opened your window hoping to chill down your room, but it was even hotter outside than it was inside

even still, you keep the window open and the curtains pushed back, leaning the upper half of your body out to the empty streets of the neighborhood you’ve lived in since you were born

it is quiet - like always

until you hear something rustle below

you look down and your eyes widen, standing in your mothers beloved rose bushes is the familiar face of something - well someone - you’ve also known since you were born

johnny waves at you and from behind his broad shoulders peeks mark lee

“bro, we shouldn’t be here - what if their parents-”

marks paranoid whispering is loud enough that even you hear it, so you bring your finger up to your lips

johnny ignores the younger boys trifling and motions for you to come out

you know your parents are probably either working in the kitchen or watching tv in the living room

there’s no way in hell you’re going to be able to walk out the front door, so your only means of escape are making it down the rickety old water pipe on the side of the house closest to your room

you’ve done it before so you’re not scared or anything - but still, you aren’t exactly sure what those two are up to

you grab your phone and text johnny:

why are you trespassing in my backyard :P

house party @ jaehyuns

you swallow - jung jaehyun - another familiar name

not interested, now go before you get caught and my dad flings a shovel at you or something

mark starts tugging on johnny’s shirt as soon as they both read the message

but johnny stays put

c’mon, don’t you like jaehyun?

you furrow your eyebrows and glare down at johnny, who just grins up at you with the kind of smile you know means trouble

dude i don’t like jaehyun, im just not in a party mood

fine - can you come for like an hour then? don’t leave me alone with mark you know he doesn’t know how to party

“hey!”

mark jumps back in offense and you shush him from your window as johnny playfully pulls him into a headlock at his side and ruffles his hair

you don’t text back, just slip your phone in your back pocket and look at yourself one last time in your mirror

you’re wearing a t-shirt thats too big with the local fishing shops logo on it and beat up old chucks with doodles on it from two years ago

really, not a party outfit, but you’re going for an hour so you don’t care

you quickly lock your door and slip through the window

johnny gives a little dance of victory as you make your way down that old pipe and lets go of mark to sling his hand over your shoulder

“are we walking to jaehyuns?”

you ask when you’re safely out of earshot of your house but johnny just shakes his head

“nah, he’s driving us there.”

“he’s w-”

as you turn the corner of the street you see jaehyun’s car

its nothing flashy, but you know its his because its got that dumb handmade sticker of johnny’s garage band name on the bumper and plus he’s got the driver car door open, leaning against it looking-

damnit why does he look good without even trying

you push back the thought and want to throw another glare johnny’s way - but he misses it as he reaches out to take jaehyun’s hand

the two of them bump shoulders and johnny makes a joke about how hard he had to try to convince you to come out

you keep back a little and jump a bit when mark asks

“is everything ok?”

“yeah, just worried my parents might have heard us.”

marks face pales and he climbs into the backseat of the car - you follow him and try not to look at jaehyun

although you feel his eyes move to you past johnny’s shoulder

once you’re all piled in, jaehyun says his house is already half trashed. he left doyoung in charge back there but he knows no one ever listens to him so he expects you’ll all be arriving to a shitshow

you half listen, looking out the window and at the houses of families you know

at least the window of a moving car is much cooler than the cemented window of your bedroom

but the real reason behind your distance is because right now ,,,,, jaehyun is the last person you want to see

it had all started last summer, jaehyun had moved to your town and had befriended johnny instantly

and with johnny’s friendship came your friendship (and mark’s, and practically the whole schools but - you and johnny were joined at the hip so it was different)

but it became quickly and almost embarrassingly obvious that what you and jaehyun felt toward each other was not

what you and johnny felt toward each other

you could easily jump on johnny’s back, have him piggyback you through the huge aisles of the local walmart, you could easily share food with johnny from the same plate, you could easily fall asleep on johnny’s bed as he and mark played video games on the floor

but with jaehyun - there was a sheepishness

not because you weren’t best friends but because you saw him and felt nervous

you saw johnny and felt delight, thats someone you’d be friends with forever

you saw jaehyun and felt a flurry of butterflies swarm around your stomach, thats someone you wanted to kiss

and it was like everyone was waiting for it to happen. everyone was just holding their breath.

some people had even tried to ask jaehyun out, but he had declined and it just solidified the entire towns prediction that you and him would end up being a thing

but

when he had a chance, he blew it

it had been a house party just like the one you were going to now and you and jaehyun had walked off a little away from all the music and noise

you were wearing those bracelets he’d gifted you and he was toying with one on your hand

you could have sworn that in that moment you were going to hear the words

“do you want to go out with me?” leave his lips, no matter how coy he was being and how playful this push and pull had been

the flirtatious glances, the midnight texts, the tension of it all had come to this and now

all you were bracing yourself to just say was yes

when instead he had chuckled and asked,

“can you believe everyone wants us to date?”

you couldn’t read his tone - you’d just blinked at him, was he being for real?

instead of answering him or even acknowledging the awkwardness of the situation

you’d walked away

you’d pulled the bracelets off your wrist and let them drop to the grass. jaehyun had been confused, grabbing your wrist and asking what was wrong all of a sudden

the last thing you had said to him was

“everything's just a game to you isn’t it?”

there were no words and no more messages after that. you had avoided him like hot fire and had succeeded in dodging all of johnny or marks attempts to make you all hangout together again

you’d agreed to go to this party for an hour because you had planned to just get lost in the crowd before he could spot you and then leave

you didn’t know you’d be stuck in his car, personal damn chauffeur service to his house

you hear the party before you even see it - music blaring from inside and peoples voices like an annoying symphony of shouts and chants

mark gets out first and you try to scramble so you won’t end up somehow alone with jaehyun

nearly pushing poor mark onto the curb

“hey!”

“im going to go see if uh - whats his name - uh jungwoo is here.”

you make up an excuse before either of the three boys can say a word

you turn the corner, around the pool that you’ve hung out with jaehyun and everyone else at a hundred times and the weird circle of garden gnomes he’s moms put out

you know the layout like its your own house and are happy to see that the wooded part toward the end of his yard is pretty empty - the hammock that you and johnny had helped him tie up a while ago is unoccupied

“thank god”

you plop yourself in it and close your eyes, the sounds are duller out here and you dont have the chance of rubbing shoulders with other drunk teenagers or you know who

your phone buzzes in your back pocket but you dont bother to check it

instead you stare up through the leaves at the bright slice of moon

how’d i get in this situation?

you lay a hand on your stomach and tap your fingers as you think about how you’re going to kill time

the noise of giggling passes by you and you assume a couple is going to pass by to fool around in the woods

could have been me and jaehyun if he hadn’t been such a dumba-

you sit up a little and shake your head

you had done such a good job so far. you really hadn’t thought about him at all.

well, well you had thought about him but you just - you weren’t going to coddle yourself into expecting anything ever again

it would just hurt when the day came around and he flat out rejected you

you sink back down and close your eyes - maybe just napping through this dumb party will

“dude they’re so fucking mad at me.”

“nah bro, i bet they’re just tired or something-”

“no johnny, i fucked up.”

you open your eyes and strain a bit at the sound of the voices that are coming closer and closer to your spot

they sound just like-

“what exactly did you do then jaehyun?”

“i said the wrong thing-”

“just said?”

there’s a pause and now you’re sure this is who you think it is

“just said or did you hurt them. jaehyun you’re a cool dude or whatever but if you laid a hand on them-”

the drop of the voice only comes for one person when they’re rallying to get angry

“no johnny, i would never. i just - remember that party a couple months ago. the one at taeyongs.”

“yeah?”

“i was going to ask them out, and then i just blanked like they were looking at me and instead of just kissing them i said ‘haha isn’t it funny everyone wants us to date?’ because like im dumb - i dont know i couldnt think!”

a second of silence passes by and then is followed by johnny’s long and relaxed laugh

“you totally did fuck up!”

“i know, and now i dont know how to make it bet-”

johnny and jaehyun’s footsteps are now only a few feet away - in the darkness of the night you’re sure they haven’t noticed the lump of you in the hammock

not until you suddenly feel it tip over as someones shadow looms over

“DONT YOU DARE SIT ON ME JOHNNY SUH!”

you shout and johnny screams - before stuttering back and bursting into another loud laugh

“oh my god THEY WERE HERE THE WHOLE TIME?”

jaehyun, even though its dark, goes red at the realization

“d-did you hear us?”

you swing your legs out and jump out of the hammock - johnny, who is still laughing at the circumstance, can’t help but back away a little holding himself in a fit

you nod

“yeah i heard and for the record - you were being dumb when you said that to me.”

jaehyun opens his mouth but shuts it because he has no way of protesting it

“but i guess being dumb is kind of part of your charm”

you cross your arms and jaehyun’ shoulders perk up a little

“so you’re not mad at me?”

“i was but, i mean, im a very forgiving person and you can have this second chance to ask me out-”

“yeah just don’t fuck it up jaehyun”

johnny’s voice comes between chuckles before you motion for him to go

he gives you two a thumbs up and leaves, mumbling that he has to tell mark about all this

and as you and jaehyun are alone with the back drop of his house party

you put your hand out and jaehyun takes it in his

“so, let me try again - instead of everyone saying we should date i want you to know that i want to-”

“yes”

you lean up and take his face with both hands, pressing your lips to his and finally

freaking finally

kissing jaehyun

the summer night air is still sticky and sweet and you aren’t a big fan, but the way jaehyun’s lips are a perfect taste makes all of that wash away

his hands circle your own and he picks you up swiftly as your legs wrap around his waist

now this - this is what you had expected months ago, but you don’t mind because its finally happening now

when you and jaehyun return to the packed house

the whole party stops when johnny screams

“EVERYONE CHEER FOR THE TOWNS LOVEBIRDS!”

and both you and jaehyun go wide eyed

not before you take chase after your best friend - threatening to get him and mark just pats jaehyun’s back like

“looks like you didn’t mess up this time!”

jaehyun grins and scratches his neck, yeah - looks like he didn’t.

#jaehyun au #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct 127 au #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #member: jaehyun #sfw #donation commissions

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mrsalwayswritex · 4 years

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Call Me Fighter

A/N: Good news everyone! I remember where I got these pictures! /benhardyig on instagram posted these a few days ago and I got the inspo for this! Also the song I used for the title is one of my husbands favorites so you should give it a listen! Side note, Im not really sure how Im feeling about most of this so hang in there and let me know how it was!

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Platonic Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4900

Warnings: Fighting (fairly detailed? Im not sure?), swearing, lying, i dont know what else?

Song: Call me fighter by Matt Beilis

She wasn't sure if he knew that she knew, but she did. Y/n was always smarter than he gave her credit for. Did he really think that she would believe him?

“Went ass over tit on my bike last week”

“Dropped my damn phone on my face”

“Bar fight, truly heroic”

The excuses he was giving her were getting more and more ridiculous, she wished that he would tell her already so she could stop hiding the fact that she knew. Ben and Y/n had been friends for years, and she knew him better than he knew himself. Y/n could remember back in grade school when Ben would get into fights, countless fights for no reason, so when he started sporting a new bruise every week, she had a feeling about what was happening.

Y/n wasn't proud of how she found out, but he had given her no choice, the more and more he lied to her, the more she had to find out the truth. It was just a few weeks ago that Y/n could hear shouting coming from next door, where Ben lived, and she listened closely but could only hear his voice. Years prior, the two of them had both been house hunting, Y/n found a duplex for sale and she knew instantly it was going to be perfect, so together, they bought it and each took a side.

“I'll be there, I SAID I'LL FUCKIN’ BE THERE!” Y/n heard his voice booming through the walls, followed by the sound of Ben stomping around his house before his front door slammed closed. Ben hardly ever even raised his voice to her, so hearing his shout like that had caused her to worry immediately. She grabbed her jacket and poked her head out the door, seeing Ben’s retreating form headed down the street. Y/n pulled her hood over her mess of hair and walked slowly, following him carefully.

Following Ben felt like a betrayal to their friendship, but she had seen how he came home last week, she needed to know what was happening to him. When Y/n saw him walk into an alley in the warehouse district, saying she was confused would have been an understatement, but she followed nonetheless.

Y/n was not at all prepared to see a line of people standing at a metal door, but watch Ben walk right past them and go into a second door. The line was moving quickly so she just stood in the back of the line until she made her way to a man with arms bigger than her head. “Twenty buck admission, sweetheart.” The large man’s voice boomed, and she frantically patted her pockets, grinning widely as she found a twenty in her jeans pocket, handing it to the man and being ushered inside.

The lights in the large warehouse were sparse and dim, casting shadows on the walls. Y/n stepped carefully over the trash littered floor, careful to avoid the men standing around in small groups and talking in hushed voices with their eyes darting around nervously. She kept her hood pulled over her head as she quickly scanned the room, unable to see Ben at all. I watched him walk in here, I know he is here somewhere, she thought to herself. As she got closer to the center of the large room, she saw a rather large cage with only one door and a mat inside. Y/n couldn't help the nauseous feeling in her stomach as she looked around the inside of the cage, seeing what had to be blood, splattered everywhere.

Y/n’s attention was pulled from the scene by a man’s voice over a speaker, “Make your final bets, ladies and gents, our fighters are almost ready.” Heart pounding at the words, Y/n looked around frantically, hoping to catch Ben’s face in the crowd, the nausea getting worse as her thoughts raced. Letting herself get moved back, away from the cage, she nervously chewed at her thumbnail, something she hadn't done in years. Her heart stopped and her jaw hung open wide when she saw Ben walking from the crowd, shirtless but with taped up hands, and stepping into the cage. Her hands flew to cover her mouth quickly and though she was sure she made a noise, it was drowned out by the cheering of the crowd.

His face looked hard and tough from here, but Y/n knew Ben better than anyone else, she could see the worry and the sadness behind his eyes. She had spent most of her time there in tears, her heart breaking more and more with every hit that landed on Ben. She wasn’t even able to stay for the whole fight, running out of the building and not stopping until she was on her shared porch. That night when she heard Ben get home and tap on the shared wall, like they had done since they moved in, she ignored it. She couldn’t face him, knowing he would just feed her another excuse.

Y/n had followed Ben three more nights, out of morbid curiosity she guessed, and had left before the fight was over every time. Everytime she would wait for the tap on the wall when he got home and would stay silent. Y/n realized what the taps meant now, I'm home and safe. Ben may not have told her what he was doing, but at least with the taps, she knew when he was home. Weeks went by with Ben leaving the house at odd hours and coming back late, tapping the wall and then they would meet in the morning for coffee like always with some kind of fabricated story. She hadn't gone to another fight in weeks.

Today, though, Y/n paced around her living room for hours. Ben had left hours ago and he still wasn't home, which made her stomach turn. She waited only another ten minutes and then she was grabbing her jacket from the hook and slamming the door behind her as she ran quickly to the warehouse. Once she was inside, she saw a bigger crowd than she had ever seen before and her anxiety spiked. This was something different. When the announcer spoke over the loudspeaker, she watched as Ben walked into the cage, but this time he was already bloody and cut up, he had already fought tonight and he was fighting again? Y/n watched the way Ben leaned heavily on the side of the cage, arm clutched to his side and chest heaving harshly.

Not only was the guy who entered moments later at least twice the size of Ben, but he was also wider and the look on his face was not at all friendly. She could see Ben’s hesitation as he looked at the ref and the man shrugged his shoulders. Y/n knew that this wasn't a normal fight, and she knew nothing about fighting. The few times she had gone, she tried to stay hidden in the back where he wouldn't spot her, but the longer this fight went on, the closer and closer she crept to the cage. Watching Ben move really was incredible in a normal situation, but watching him bounce easily from foot to foot and easily dodge his opponents fists was something else. Unfortunately, Ben was not so bouncy this time.

Y/n flinched audibly when one of the big guys fists collided with Ben’s cheek, making him stumble back, another fist following seconds later and Y/n had gotten close enough to see his eyes crossing from the hit. His jaw went slack just in time for one last hit and his eyes rolled back and he dropped to the mat.

“BEN!”

That was a hell of a hit, Ben thought to himself as he fell heavily to the mat of the cage. He could have sworn that he heard Y/n’s voice, but of course it wasn't really her, she had no idea what Ben was doing right now, a fact that he took solace in as he let his eyes fall closed and the darkness swallowed him whole.

Ben didn't know how long he was out for, but his ears woke up before his eyes and he could hear the sounds of people cheering distantly, but closer than that he heard someone softly crying and the sound of ripping paper. Even behind closed eyes, the light overhead was excruciating, and kept his eyes closed tightly. He could feel the pressure of someone wiping at the cuts on his face. Ben listened to the sniffles of his faceless caregiver, he could hear the soft choked sobs falling from their mouth.

“Oh Ben,” Ben heard his makeshift nurse, who was certainly female, coo sadly.

He let the words spin in his head, the voice repeating over and over. Oh Ben was right. Ben knew he had gotten in over his head when his opponent entered the cage, noticing quickly that it was not the guy who he was supposed to fight. He had gotten greedy, he knew he did. Ben had taken to betting on himself through a regular attendee of the fights, and management had caught wind and needed to put a stop to it.

“Gods, you're such an idiot.” His nurse spoke again and Ben’s heart dropped, he knew that voice.

“Y/n?” Ben opened his eyes quickly and regretted it immediately, throwing his head off the side of the bench he was laying on and emptying his stomach. Y/n squeaked and jumped backwards out of the splash zone, though her face lit up brightly.

“Ben!” She rushed to the other side of the bench, leaning down and carefully rubbing a hand over his sweaty back as he groaned loudly. “Jesus, Ben, I thought I had lost you.” Y/n smiled, though when Ben rolled back onto his back, he could see the tears still streaming down her face.

“What are you doing here?” He tried to use his arm to push himself off the bench but the pain in his shoulder stopped him with a hiss, Y/n putting a gentle hand on his chest to keep him still.

“Don't move, your shoulder is fucked up and I think you broke a few ribs.” Y/n explained with a sniffle, keeping her hand on his chest, and she felt him relax under her touch.

“Y/n.” Ben experimentally raised his other arm and when no pain blossomed, he laid his hand on top of hers. “What are you doing here? Did they call you?” He questioned again, squeezing her hand, causing her to look at his eyes.

His face was still bloody, left eye swelling up with a nasty cut below it. His right side was no better, a bruise was forming on his jaw and his nose was still slowly bleeding from a small cut there too. Y/n’s heart broke looking at him, she wasn't able to stop the sob that ripped from her throat. “You didn't tap.”

Ben’s eyes widened and taking a ragged breath, which broke her heart more, he squeezed her hand once more. “You knew?” His voice was barely above a whisper and had Y/n not been sitting so close to him, she may not have heard it. Y/n nodded her head softly, biting her lip as tears tumbled down her face. “How?”

Y/n choked out a laugh despite the sadness she felt, “Did you really think you were giving me good excuses?” She shook her head softly before standing and taking the bowl of water she had brought over, now red, and dumped it out. Y/n shook her head again before putting the bow down a little harder than she should have, the startling sound making Ben jump and hiss at the pain. “How could you keep something like this from me?” She spoke forcefully but didn't make eye contact. Ben laid his head back down onto the bench and sighed.

“I didn't want you to know, Y/n.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wincing from the pain. “I didn't want you to worry.”

Y/n scoffed and crossed her arms, “OH of course, because this is so much better.” Pushing herself off the counter, she strode towards him quickly. “Do you not understand how lucky you were that I knew where you sneak off to?” Her voice raised and Ben squeezed his eyes closed tighter. “Ben you could have died! Do you not realize that? Did you know what they do to fighters who get knocked out like that?” She questioned, grabbing his face light enough to not hurt but enough to make him open his eyes. “They drug you out of the cage and pulled you back here by your fucking arms Ben. They tossed you into this room and closed the door behind them.” Y/n swiped her hand over her eyes quickly, angry at the tears that came.

Ben looked into the eyes of his best friend, hating that he had caused her pain. Hating that he had lied to her for months and here she was, taking care of him like she always did. She had every right to be upset with him, because he knew that he didn't have a good enough excuse for his choices. “I can't give you a good reason, Y/n.” He stared into her eyes, lifting his good hand to her face and wiped away a tear as it ran over her cheek. When he looked at his hand against her face, he could finally see some of the damage done tonight.

Ben stared at his swollen and cut knuckles, carefully wiped clean of blood thanks to her. Clenching his fist a few times, the cuts split open again and small streaks of blood sliding down the back of his hand. “Stop that.” Y/n spoke softly, grabbing his hand and the wet cloth, wiping away the blood once more. Ben watched her silently, allowing her to move his arm anyway she needed.

“I'm sorry I lied.”

“Me too.”

They both stayed silent as Y/n walked around the room, gathering hers and Ben’s things while Ben just tried to sit up on the bench. Once Y/n had Ben’s backpack over her shoulder, she walked over to him and offered him a hand, which he took gratefully. Anchoring herself with her legs, she let Ben pull himself up before wrapping an arm over her shoulder. Usually Ben would make a joke about how much shorter she was than him, but this time he stayed silent, using all of his energy to not scream out in pain. Y/n watched his jaw clench tight as he tried to take a step forward, nearly pulling her to the ground with him.

“Walking home isn't an option, Ben.” She sighed, her voice cracking slightly. “You're going to have to wait here while I go and get the car.” Ben, who didn't trust himself not to cry out, kept his mouth closed and nodded carefully. Y/n tried to ease Ben back to the bench as carefully as possible, but Ben’s knee buckled and they both went down hard. She yelped loudly and Ben felt the laughter bubble up in his throat and before he could stop it, it spilled out. “Are you laughing at me right now?” Y/n chuckled, letting herself relax onto the floor, arm still wrapped around Ben. Ben just laughed louder and nodded his head, making Y/n giggle back and soon the two best friends were both clutching their stomachs in hysterics.

Y/n, breathless from laughter, glanced towards Ben and her laughter turned to choked sobs. Ben was quick to shush her, pulling her close to him and she laid gently on his chest. Wincing through the pain, he raised his hand to her hair and stroked it softly. “Let’s go home, Y/n.” Ben pressed his lips to her forehead and she sniffled and nodded, pulling herself into a sitting position. Standing and offering Ben both of her hands, she carefully got him back onto the bench and sighed heavily.

“I'll be right back, don't move.” She pointed at him seriously, but Ben could see the forced smile on her face and his heart hurt for her. He nodded and faked his own smile, shooting her a thumbs up and laying his head back against the wall behind him. Y/n waved once more before she closed the door behind her and Ben was alone.

He hated that she had to see him like this, he had thought he was covering his tracks well enough, though Y/n had always been smarter than him. He thanked whatever god was listening at that moment, that she wasn't here anymore. He knew what it meant to be caught betting on yourself. That was something that Y/n never needed to see. Ben pulled himself up carefully, holding his arm close to his side, hissing at the sudden all over pain. Slowly he made his way across the room, but was stopped short when the door opened with a loud bang as it clattered against the wall. The fight manager and his two overly large goons pushed their ways through the door, staring Ben down like he was their prey.

“Mike.” Ben nodded his head shortly, waving weakly at the muscle. “To what do I owe this pleasure.” His sarcasm was not well met, as goon number one cracked his knuckles menacingly and goon number two swung his fist into Ben’s jaw harshly. Black dots filled Ben’s vision, but he grabbed a hold of the counter to stay standing.

“Don't be cute, Ben.” Mike replied coolly, stepping between the goons and standing right in front of him. “Is your girlfriend gone? I'm sure this isn't the kind of fight she wants to see.” The short, fat man chuckled, he turned and took a few steps to the side and when Ben’s gaze followed, his jaw was met once more with a goon's fist. Ben swore loudly, gritting his teeth and trying to will himself to stay standing. Spitting on the floor beside him, Ben glanced at the ground's fresh red spatters. “You cheated me Ben. I don't like cheaters.”

Anticipating another hit, Ben dodged the next hit which only seemed to spur the goons on. Goon Number One locked his arms behind his back, pulling a string of curses from Ben, as Goon Number Two hit him in the ribs. Ben's head was swimming and he wasn't sure how much more his body could take. Two didn't stop at just one hit, not even two, but after three sharp jabs to his ribs, Goon Number One finally let his arms go and Ben fell to the floor in a heap. He tried to push himself off the ground but one of the men kicked him hard in the chest and he fell back down.

“You’re burnt, Ben.” Mike clicked his tongue and motioned for the goons to take him outside. Struggling and failing, Ben was hoisted into the air by the two men, Mike stopping them and grabbing a fist full of Ben’s hair and bringing his face close to Ben’s ear, “You're done.” He whispered menacingly. “Make sure to leave him out front where the girl can find him.” Mike snapped his fingers and then Ben was dragged out into the dark parking lot.

Leave him where the girl can find him, the words swam in Ben’s foggy head. Y/n was going to find him like this, and the thought alone was enough to force a sob from his throat. The goons pulled Ben’s limp body until they were under the large flood light on the building and threw him to the ground, Ben wasn't quick enough with his hands and his face was scrapped along the pavement and he held back a cry. The men both stalked towards him but he tried to crawl away, both men stepping towards him easily. “I hope she isn't squeamish.” Goon Number One growled with a sick smile on his face, pulling his fist into the air and slamming it into Ben’s face and knocking his head into the ground. Goon Number Two kicked at him again and again.

Ben’s vision was blurring. It hurt to breathe. He was sure he would die. Ben couldn't help the sobs and tears that spilled out of him as he saw headlights turning into the parking lot. His shouts sounded like static in his own ears and he could no longer make out the sounds of the goons above him. He could feel his eyes closing as he suddenly heard Y/n’s voice, clear as day, shouting his name.

Y/n had run back to her house as quickly as she could and when she stumbled into the front door, she finally slowed down, stepping inside and leaning on the closed door behind her. She walked through the house and turned on a few lights, and readied the tea kettle for their return. Sighing loudly, she grabbed her keys and jogged back outside and climbed into her car. The trip back was less than ten minutes long and when she pulled into the warehouse parking lot, she was shocked that it had emptied out so quickly. Figuring she would make it easier on Ben if she parked as close to the door as she could, she turned towards the entrance and that's when she saw it.

Directly under the flood lights bright circle, Y/n was able to make out two giant men and a smaller figure on the ground. Ben! Slamming her hand on the horn, she pushed her foot to the floor, needing to get to Ben right now. She watched the men kicking him, ruthlessly, and she covered her mouth with one hand, her whole body shaking with sobs. When she finally reached them, she slammed on the brakes and skidded to a halt in front of them, one of them making eye contact with her as she screamed for them to stop. Keeping her gaze, the man threw a hand out at the second man and they both stopped kicking. Y/n shrieked loudly when the second man looked at her and spit at Ben, she ran forward and dropped to the ground beside her beaten best friend.

“Ben! Ben, please!” The tears poured down her face like a waterfall and her voice cracked as she begged him to wake up. “Please open your eyes, Ben, please!” Y/n scrambled around for her phone as she quickly dialed 911. Sitting herself above Ben’s head, she pulled him carefully into her lap, sobbing loudly as she touched his red stained face. Twenty minutes, Y/n thought sadly, twenty minutes she had been gone and now she may have been too late. She rocked back and forth hysterically with Ben’s head in her lap, her long fingers running through his blood-matted hair, and soon she could hear the approaching sirens. “I'm so sorry Ben, I should have never left you here. I'm so, so sorry Ben.” She cried so loudly, her throat was raw by the time the paramedics were pulling Ben’s motionless form from her grasp and ushered her into the back while she held onto his hand the whole way to the hospital.

It was two days later, when Ben finally opened his eyes and the very first thing he saw made him smile despite his surroundings. Y/n was curled into a ball, asleep in a small recliner in the corner of the room. Ben didn't dare look at any of the damage, instead choosing to lay quietly and watch Y/n sleep peacefully. He was able to smile for half a second before the pain shot through his cheek and he hissed loudly, which woke Y/n up.

Tears instantly sprang to her eyes as she launched herself out of the chair, crossing the room in seconds and having to stop herself from literally throwing herself onto Ben. Y/n gently put both hands to his face and just gave him a watery smile. “I'm so glad you're alright, Ben.” She cooed, leaning in and carefully placed a kiss to his forehead. “You are so fucking lucky that you're alright, because I want to murder you!” The smile stayed on her face but her eyes got serious.

Ben opened his mouth to speak but found his throat raw. Y/n was quick to bring a straw to his lips and he swallowed down the water gratefully. He cleared his throat when he was done and he looked at her. “I'm so sorry Y/n.” His bottom lip quivered and his eyes were locked on hers. When he tried to lift his arm to her face, he found resistance with a bright red cast from his palm to elbow. She watched his face crumble when he saw the cast, as it prompted him to search his other limbs.

Ben had ‘gotten lucky’ or so the doctors told Y/n the day before when they had given her the rundown of his injuries. “Broken arm, three broken ribs, a fractured collarbone, four broken knuckles and a pretty serious concussion.” Y/n sighed, brushing Ben’s blond curls off of his forehead. “Jesus Ben you've been asleep since they brought you in, it's been two days.” She didn't make eye contact with him, instead looking at his hair running through her fingers and she didn't even try to stop the tears from falling heavily onto his chest.

Ben stared at her face, heart aching when she wouldn't even look at him. He used his cast-free arm to reach up and touch her face lightly. “Thank you for being there that night, Y/n.” His voice wavered just enough to betray his stoic face, when her eyes flickered to his he could see all the pain and sleeplessness she had experienced the last two days. “I'm so sorry that this is how you found out, I'm sorry for lying to you.” He spoke softly, letting a tear get halfway down his face before swiping it away quickly. “I would have died if you hadn’t come back for me.”

“I'll always come back for you, Ben.” Y/n smiled at him, running her finger down his nose carefully, bringing a real smile to his face. “You're my best friend, and I love you.” She rolled her eyes playfully at him.

“I know, and you're my best friend.” Ben moved his hand from her face and grabbed her hand, “No more secrets.” he nodded his head seriously and she mirrored him.

“And you’ll try and explain to me why you thought this was ever a good idea?” She questioned hopefully, and though Ben sighed heavily, he nodded his head. “Pinky promise?” She held out her pinky finger to him and Ben chuckled and wrapped his pinky around hers.

“Pinky promise.”

Two after Ben woke up, the doctor was clearing him to leave. Y/n was getting the basic pain medicine talk, since she was to be Ben’s caregiver. Ben watched her listening intently to the directions that his doctor was reciting, showing her the bottle of pills and a packet on how to shower with a cast. She nodded her head and occasionally spoke up with a question, flashing Ben a smile when she caught him staring. Ben grinned back at her and the doctor smiled at the two of them. “Well, Mr. Jones, I would like to hope that this experience has made you think twice about your hobbies.” The doctor gave him a pointed look and he held up his one good hand in defense.

“No more fighting, I promise.” He stated and the doctor gave him a thumbs up.

“As for you, Miss Taylor, Benjamin here is lucky to have you in his life. You make a very cute couple.” The older man smiled and nudged Y/n and when she made eye contact with Ben, they both started laughing hysterically.

“He wishes,” She scoffed and Ben looked at her offended, “He’s been my best friend so long, he is practically my brother.” She gave the boy a fond smile and he returned it happily.

“Completely platonic soulmates, doc.” Ben smiled at the man and pushed himself to his feet. “Now, not that I don't think you're a great guy, but I would like to get out of here and never see you again.” Ben chuckled and the doctor laughed deeply.

“That is the right attitude!” The man clapped his hands together, “You are good to go, and I hope I never have the fortune of seeing you again.” He shook Ben’s hand first and then reached for Y/n’s, “You as well, Miss Taylor.”

“You got it, doc.” She shook the man's hand and grabbed the bag of Ben’s belongings and waited for him to follow her and when he looked at her with question in his eyes she rolled her eyes at him. “If you think i'm ever leaving you alone to fetch the car again, you're out of your mind. Come on, your legs ain’t broken.” Ben laughed loudly and nodded his head before walking over and throwing his good arm around her shoulders carefully. “Let’s go home.”

“Let’s go home.” He agreed with a smile on his face.

#ben hardy #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy au #fighter!ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #call me fighter #my writing

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wereallsaloonaticshere · 4 years

Note

I love having characters discuss media they like / characterization-through-fandom so maybe have A Boy of choice discuss their favorite movie and everyone else reacts?

Okay so this isn’t very good, but I guess I like how I wrote Eduardo. Basically teenage Eduardo, Jon and Mark lowkey larp as their old west ancestors, Eduardo Juan and Marco, while waiting at a park for Edd Tom and Matt to come larping as their respective ancestors, Edward Thompson and Matthew.

Critique is welcomed but idk why you’d wanna do that with this piece lmao.

Word count: roughly 1,400.

“Barbie and the Diamond Castle,” Juan said, biting into his very authentically old west McDonald’s Mcdouble.

Eduardo’s laughs quickly turned to wheezing coughs. “God, Jon, what’re you, my niece?”

“Who?” Juan looked at him expectedly.

“Fine, Juan.” Eduardo said, “why’d you choose the most feminine movie out there? Not enough reasons to not have sex with you yet?”

“I just really like it, okay?” Juan said, “the animation’s really cute, the songs are nice, and I watched it at least once a month until I was seven.”

“Jesus you’re gayer than me.” Marco said.

“Haha, I think my parents are still waiting for me to come out,” Juan laughed.

“What’s your favorite scene from the movie?”

“I’m sorry are we seriously talking about fucking Barbie movies now?” Eduardo said, “this is supposed to be a stake out.”

“We had to listen to you play Mindless Self Indulgence the entire car ride here, so shut your mouth.”

“What are you talking about? I had my earbuds in.”

“You were blasting it.”

“Oh, that’s why your mother kept looking at me weird through the front view mirror.” Eduardo said, “that sucks.”

“It’s okay, I think she’s come to terms with the fact that I’m friends with exclusively delinquents.”

“Hey!”

“Just kidding, just kidding.”

“That’s mean, Mark. O. M-Marco.”

“Hypocrite.” Eduardo said.

“Anyways,” Marco rolled his eyes, “what about Barbie and her castle and your obsession with them both?”

“I don’t like it anymore! Just when I was a kid,” Juan said. “And it wasn’t her castle, they were actually really poor, they just had to travel to the castle to save a girl trapped in a mirror and the concept of music.”

“...Huh?” Eduardo said.

“I don’t remember the plot very well, but I think that’s about it.”

“Huh. Sounds like something my niece would actually like.” Eduardo said, “they wear dresses in those movies, right?”

“Yeah of course, it’s Disney.”

“Can you text me a picture of the main girl? I’ll draw her in the dress and give it to her on her birthday.”

“Aw, how sweet! Sure.” Juan, the infamous old west bandit, got out his phone and texted Eduardo the main girls.

“When are Edd, Tom and Matt supposed to come, anyways?” Marco asked, “my mom’s picking us up in a couple of hours.”

“Shut up Mark, they’ll be here,” Eduardo said, looking out across the grass and duck pond.

“How do you know?” Juan asked, collecting the group's trash to throw away. “You said Edd has bad handwriting, maybe you read it wrong.”

“I didn’t read it wrong! Trust me, they’ll be here. They’re fuckin’ nerds and their ancestors were these cool action hero guys, of course they’ll wanna larp as them!”

“I thought you said they weren’t cool at all?” Juan asked, “and that their ancestors were gay or something?”

“Of course they’re not actually cool!” Eduardo said, “but they sure thought they were, so I’m just explaining their train of thought.”

“Couldn’t we just larp as our ancestors?” Juan asked, “it would be fun, and a lot less stressful.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing?” Marco asked, tugging at his cheap brown bandanna Juan had found at Walmart the day before.

“I mean, I guess, but it’s not really authentic if we keep talking about Barbie and cars.”

“Then stop talking about fucking Barbie, problem solved,” Eduardo said. “Now make use of that second pair of binoculars, I think I see their car.”

“Fine.”

“...I wonder if Marco was gay.” Marco said, watching the ducks sleep.

“What d'ya mean?” Eduardo asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Obviously I know there were quite a few gay people in the old west, it’s just funny to think about. How different of a life he would’ve led.”

“I found a photo of him kissing a guy on google.” Juan said, getting out his phone to find it again.

“Really?” Eduardo turned to face him, the car having driven past the parking lot. “How?”

“I remember hearing Edd talk about how that detective’s diary was really gay and thought about if that made Marco’s ancestor gay, to.”

“Well not everyone in my ancestral line was gay, you know.”

“Yeah but the detective looked a lot like Edd, and Marco looked a lot like you, so I figured it only made sense to check. Here.” Juan handed Marco his phone. “It doesn’t say who the guy is.”

“Wait, so are you saying you think Edd’s gay?” Eduardo lit up and put his fingers together like a pyramid, “oh that’s interesting.”

“What, are you planning on outing him to the school or something?” Marco asked.

“No, of course not!” Eduardo said, “I just think it’d be something to bring up.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Come on, he’s bullied you for being gay before!”

“That was a year ago, and that doesn’t mean he deserves the same treatment!”

“Mark-”

“Marco.”

“-Mark,” he glared at Juan, “just drop it, okay? If they don’t show up we won’t be able to catch them being idiots, so we’ll have to find some other way to do it!”

“Why do we need to? Have you ever considered that maybe if you stopped picking fights with them they’d leave us alone?”

“Me?! They’re the ones that pick fights with us!” Eduardo slammed his fist down on the table, making the old wood wobble, “don’t you remember when we were in English and they told the teachers we were the ones that started that knife fight, when really it was them? Or when they were throwing knives at each other, and then stashed them in my locker when they heard a teacher coming? Or when that girl got stabbed-”

“Look, I get it, they suck, but at some point we become just as bad as them.” Marco reasoned.

“...”

An alarm went off in Marco’s pocket.

“Hey, it’s almost 7. We should be packing up.”

Eduardo sighed, “...fine.”

Juan threw away their trash as they were walking back to the parking lot. Marco took his bandanna off and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Are you able to eat dinner at my place?” Mark asked.

“You sure your parents would want me over again?”

“What are you talking about? Of course. Why not?”

“I don’t know, I just got the impression I annoyed them last time.”

“You didn’t. So, can you come?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think to ask my parents.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yeah sure.” Eduardo got out his phone and texted his mom.

“I won’t be able to come, my grandma’s over and dad’s making stew.” Juan said.

“Oh, nice.”

“Yeah, it is.”

The ducks walked out of their way as they passed.

{i really am just writing the most boring shit rn, huh? I mean i guess its realistic.}

“Okay I can go, she said to be home by 10.” Eduardo put his phone away.

“Excellent.”

“Your dad isn’t gonna gril me about colleges again, is he?”

“Hey, if I have to deal with it then so do you.” Mark smirked.

“It’s just annoying to hear him talk about all these engineering colleges.” He rolled his eyes, “as if I want to drive myself insane with those classes.”

“He’s only doing it because he wants you to have a nice job.”

“...I can have a nice job as a painter too.” Eduardo said, but the bite was gone.

{my moms getting mcdonalds i cant wait im so hungry its literally 10pm} {its 1230 now and btw i loved it}

“It’s your choice.”

“Have you decided what college you want to attend yet, Marco-Mark?” Jon asked.

Eduardo chuckled.

“I’m not sure yet. I might become an english teacher, or a librarian.”

“Huh. Nice.” Jon said. “I kinda wanna be a photographer, but I know there isn’t a lot of

{and then I gave up}

#eddsworld #stuff i made #fanfic #ew fanfic #eddsworld fanfiction #eduardo and his friends lowkey larp as the saloonatics guys

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cmncisspnandmore · 5 years

Text

Don’t let me go, Part 2

AN: Here it is you lovely people. Part 2, i have added anyone that wanted to be tagged to the taglist. It is still open! My requests are also still open :) i hope you enjoy this. Also the experiences the reader has with her Disorder are taken from my own personal struggle with it. It is not like this for everyone. But if you or someone you know is struggling with an ED, please seek help. Im always here to talk if need be. Enjoy my pretties. <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader Warnings: Anorexia, eating disorders, depression, drug use, mentions of past character death, extreme fluff? is that a warning?

~~~~~~

“Officer Porter, this is Agent Y/L/N, and Dr. Reid, they are here to help you go over some of the evidence from the crime scene. Get a fresh look at the photographs and try to get a sense of who the Unsub is.” Hotchner gestured to you and Reid, and the officer nodded.

“Anything you need let me know, my team is at your disposal.” Officer Porter smiled and his gaze on you lingered a few minutes and you shifted uncomfortably. Hotch walked over to where the rest of the team was gathered and started to give them instructions on where to go and who they needed to talk to.

“Lets go sit and look at the photos,” Reid placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you to the small room that they had set up the board in. You and Reid took a seat at the small table, and Reid started to flip through the photos.

“This crime looks organized, it’s well thought out and the single bullet wound shows that the Unsub was confident that this wound would kill the victim. Also notice how the Victims hands are folded across their stomachs, and they are placed almost burial style on the floor. The unsub doing this, symbolises that he had remorse.” Reid slides the photo across the table to you, you shake your head and stare at the photo for a second.

“Yeah.. I agree. What else do you think?” You ask leaning back in the chair, the pictures making your empty stomach flip.

You zone out after Reid starts to ramble off about psychopaths and sociopaths, you can’t keep up with him, and you have a feeling that maybe you’re letting this go a little too far. But nonetheless, you had to be skinny and perfect. If you weren't then there was no point in even trying. You needed to be the one to make men stop talking when you walked in the room, you needed to be the girl people envied. And the only way to do that was to be thin. Thin. Light. Airy. Perfect. You needed collarbones that stuck out, and you had to be able to see your hip bones when you stood not just when you laid down. Your legs wouldn't brush and your stomach needed to be flat. Your wrists so small and dainty that jewelry would almost slide off your wrist.

It wasn't until something fell in the other room that scared you so much that you jumped up out of the chair and your vision got very spotty, and you started to sway. Reid jumped up from his chair and grabbed your arm, he grabs your arm firmly.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Spencer looks down at you as you grasp his arm and close your eyes for a moment.

“I..I’m alright, i just got startled.” You nod and after a moment look up at Spencer who is giving you a hard look. He grabs your other arm, pulling you upright, so your body was facing him and he leans down to your height.

“Promise me.” His brown eyes burn into your Y/E/C, and you bite your bottom lip nervously. You really didn't want to lie to him anymore.

“Yeah i just stood up to quickly, I just need a moment and maybe some water.” You smile, even though you didn't want to be sneaky, your goal weight was just in reach. You had to reach it, it was the only thing you could think about.

“Let me go get you something, sit down.” Spencer stood up and walked into the break room of the dingy police station. He walks over to the water dispenser and takes a small paper cup from the stack that rests against it. He leans down and presses the tap for the cold water and lets the cup fill. He places the cup down on the counter and out of the corner of his eye he sees a vending machine, sitting dutifully in the back of the room. A row of granola bars sitting on the top row, walking over to it he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, and inserts a dollar into the machine. He punches in the number for a chocolate chip granola bar, and waits for it to fall into the bottom.

The granola bar falls into the bottom of the machine and he reaches in, grabbing the bar and then grabs the cup of water on his way out. Heading back into the room where you were sitting with your head on your hands, your hair falling forward shadowing your face.

“Here, you should eat something.” Spencer hands you the cup of water and the granola bar, you lift your head and take it from him.

“Thank you Spencey.”

“You’re welcome, are you sure you’re okay to continue this case? I can finish going over this stuff if you want to head back to your hotel room, I can drive you, contrary to the rest of the teams belief i actually do have my drivers license.” Reid furrows his brows and looks at you, studying you for a moment.

“I, i think i might be coming down with something.” You take a sip of the water and stare at the granola bar there was 100 calories in that granola bar, there was no way it was going to get past your lips. You would have to get rid of it when Reid wasn't looking, unwrap it and throw away the actual food, leave the wrapper somewhere that he would see it so he would think that you ate it.

“Let me call Hotch and let him know i'm going to drive you to the Hotel.” Reid pulls his phone out of his pocket and walks out of the room. Making sure to close the door behind him and face away from the window so you couldn't read his lips on what he was saying.

“Hotch.”

“It’s Reid, I need to drive Y/N, to the hotel, she's not feeling well.”

“Reid, you sound worried, is everything okay?”

“No, I think Y/N is in trouble. I don't want to concern you at the moment until i know for sure i will get the findings about the Unsub, and the crime scene photos from the hotel room. I'm gonna stay with her and make sure she’s okay.”

“Reid, if this is something serious you need to tell me.”

“I know, Hotch, i know. But if i confront her right now, it could make this whole thing a lot worse. Please you need to trust me.” Reid spoke into his phone, closing his eyes leaning back against the concrete wall.

“Alright, I trust you.” And with that Hotch hung up the phone.

You shifted uncomfortably in the chair waiting for Spencer to get back, you had tossed the granola bar in the small trash bin in the room while he was outside the door talking to Hotchner. You placed the ripped silver foil wrapper on the table in front of you and pick up one of the photos from the crime scene, it wasn't a gruesome picture or anything, all it was, was the victim's family portrait, the unsub had turned it around, almost like they didn't want the children in the picture to witness what happened to their mom. All the pictures in the crime scene had been turned around, excluding the ones that didn't have the children present in them.

“Y/N, let’s go.” Reid opened the door and you placed the photo down on the table, nodding once.

You stand up and Spencer is immediately at your side, offering a steadying hand. You smile at him, as he leads you out to the black SUV that is waiting. He helps you into the passenger seat and then closes the door for you. You rest your head on the side of the car, your eyes heavy with exhaustion even though you slept 4 out of the 5 hour flight. You planned on breaking your fast at 48 hours, if you could make it to 48 hours you would then allow yourself to eat a small meal with Spencer at breakfast tomorrow. Maybe you could play this off as a bad cold or even a virus. You just had to fool the genius for another 16 hours. As Spencer pulled away from the curb onto the road towards the hotel that the director had booked for the team while they helped solve the murders.

“I told Hotch i would stay with you until you got situated. He said it was fine, and that they would call if they needed us. But i left him everything we figured out about the Unsub.” Spencer hit the directional and switched lanes. His brown eyes glancing over at you for a second.

“Mmmm,” You hummed out, closing your eyes, “He doesn't want kids to see…” You mumbled out and Spencer glanced over again.

“What?”

“The Unsub, when you were talking to Hotch, I was looking at the pictures. He turned every picture in both houses around away from the murder scene, if the kids were in the picture he didn't want them to see.” You lifted your head and looked over at Spencer, eyes half hooded, and your head pounded.

“I’ll send a text to Hotch, when we get checked in.” Spencer put on the directional again and pulled into the Hotel parking lot. He pulled into a parking spot, and hopped out of the car. Walking over to your side, he pulled your door open and you sleepily unclicked your seatbelt, and slid off the seat. Once again Reid wrapped his arm around your waist and he guided you gently to the main lobby. You learnt into his side, taking comfort in the warm soft fabric of his cardigan. The smell of spice and wood along with the faint smell of old books, lingered on his cardigan.

Reid stops in front of the front desk, and young woman behind the desk smiles.

“Hi, how may i help you?”

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, i'm from the FBI, my team has booked rooms here for our stay. This is Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N, if we could have her room number and key card i would greatly appreciate it.” Reid runs his hand up and down your back lightly. The woman behind the desk nods and reaches under the desk, producing two key cards and slides them across the counter to Spencer.

“Thank you.” He grabs the cards and tucks one into his own pocket and turn to you and hands you the other.

“Room number 537,” She smiles to Reid and then glances over to you, “Your room is 539, they’re adjoining rooms, they share a doorway that can be locked on either side.” You nod and Spencer thanks her before guiding you to the elevator and pressing floor number 5.

Spencer takes the key card from your hand and you both walk to the door of your room. He unlocks your door and hold it open for you, you slip by him and into the room.

“Thank you, Spence, for helping me get back. I don't feel very well. I think i'm going to take a shower and then lay down.” You smile and head for the small bathroom off to the side of the room. The room wasn't huge but it fit a queen size bed, a dresser, and a tv, along with a mini fridge and a few small tables with chairs.

“Sure, no problem, i’ll get your bags from the car.” Spencer smiles and walks to the door closing it on his way out.

You start the shower and wait for the room to steam up before, stripping out of your warm clothes and step into the shower, you shiver violently until the water becomes scorching hot, and you close your eyes and lean your head back letting the hot water wash over you. You don't hear the door to the hotel room open again and you don't hear Spencer sit down on the bed, but you sink down to the bottom of the shower. Resting your head against your knees and the hot water making you more lightheaded than you already were. Your head still throbbed from lack of nutrition, and your stomach rumbled loudly. You rest your head back on the wall of the shower and you struggle to stay awake. All you want to do it sleep. You felt like a car running on an empty tank. You close your eyes and let the hot water lull you to sleep.

Spencer waited exactly 15 minutes before decided on checking on you. Whenever you stayed at his house your average shower took 10 minutes and you had been in the hotel shower for almost double that. It worried him and when he knocked on the bathroom door asking if your alright and got no answer. He panicked, he pushed the bathroom door open and through the thick clouds of steam grabbed af ew towels and called your name again.

When he still got no reply he stuck his hand in the shower and turned the water off, then he pulled back the curtain, and gasped at the sight of you. You were sitting back against the shower wall, your body pale and your skin looked pulled taut over your bones. Your collar bones, ribs and hips clearly visible. You looked like a skeleton, you must've been at least 15 pounds underweight, for a girl your height and build. Your hair looked limp and your eyes sunken, your cheek bones protrude. And without a second thought Spencer reached down into the tub and grabbed ou. Wrapping a towel around you as tears clouded his vision, you were far too light.

“Y/N, wake up.” He shook your shoulder and you stirred, and reared back at his touch. Your hands flew to the towel and you tried to cover your body the best you could.

“Y/N, what have you done to yourself.” Spencer whispered as tears slipped from his eyes down his face.

You swallowed thickly, “I just want to be good enough…. Pretty enough… for you..”

~~~~

Tag list

Criminal Minds: @morcialovechild @banananna99 @cynbx

Dont let me go: @itshaleighyo7 @galaxygallade @drw0301bieber @multifandom-ramblings

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mythiica · 5 years

Text

Reader x Oliver Knight - To Charm a Woman

Title: To Charm a Woman

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution

Character: Oliver Knight

Genre: tbh its crack and im trash, romance, slight angst (barely any), fluff

Warnings: Strong language

Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 1899 words

Other comments: didnt know what to write for him at first but then i thought of a friend who likes him and this was too perfect~ and holy crap this turned out a lot longer than i thought it would, especially for something that was meant to be a crack???

Blanc slides onto the couch next Oliver, smiling slyly. “Now, you tell me…”

Oliver dog tags the page he is reading and closes the book slightly, giving Blanc his attention. “What do you want, Carrot Cakes?”

“You’ve been eyeing (Y/n) lately. Do you like her?”

He blinks for a moment and throws the book at Blanc before jumping off of the couch. Pointing a finger at the white-haired man, Oliver shoulds in response, “No! Why would you thin-”

But Blanc leans forward, resting his chin on his palms. “No?”

Oliver tries to hold his ground and musters all of his conviction. “N-”

“So then, the locket you’ve been working on… is for someone else?”

He stops in his tracks, caught completely off guard by the question. How did Blanc know about it? Oliver thought that he had been rather good at hiding the gift, but obviously Blanc had been snooping around his work station.

“No, it’s for… her, but it’s meant to be a memory for her to take back! She’ll be leaving in a few days. Do you think she’ll forget about us?

Blanc smiles again. “Of course not. Nonetheless, I believe you should tell her how you feel.”

Oliver pouts and glares at Blanc. “Even if I did like her, I wouldn’t know how to tell her.” He crosses his arms over his chest and turns away. “You wouldn’t know how to help anyways. What do you know about courting women?”

The white-haired man simply smiles slyly again. “What gives you that impression~?” Now, Oliver is ready to leave, but Blanc coaxes him back. “I could help you, Oliver. Otherwise, you’re hopeless.”

Step One: Make Her Notice You

Oliver sees you in the garden outside the house, crouching and picking out weeds from the flower beds. The sun has yet to dip over the horizon, but it’s nearly time for his curse to change him. Dusty rose light crowns your hair with a glowing halo, making Oliver pause in his steps to look at you. The evening breeze pulls on the edge of your skirt, so you pat it down to tame it.

Before he has a chance to process what’s happening, he transforms. It catches him off guard, and once in his adult form, he slips on a towel. He tumbles to the ground, his lanky legs flying upwards. Oliver lands with a hollow thud, and manages to bump his head against the cabinet behind him.

You heard the noise through the open window, and having been startled by it, you ran to investigate. Once inside, you find Oliver rubbing his head with one hand as the other holds onto the edge of the sink.

“What happened?” you demand as you reach out to help him.

He swats your hand away. “I just fell. Leave me alone.”

You click your tongue at him. “Don’t be like that. I’ll get some ice.”

He tries to protest again, but you’re already preparing a small ice pack for him. Oliver scolds himself mentally, wishing he had been more graceful about it. This really wasn’t how Blanc suggested that he get your attention. Sitting down at the table, he massages the spot where he hit his head, praying that it wouldn’t swell up or bruise.

“Hands away, let me help,” you say gently, sitting next to him.

“I can hold an ice pack myself,” Oliver deadpans, trying to take it from you.

“Ah yes, just like you can stand up straight without falling, right?”

Oliver glares at you, but lowers his hands, allowing you to hold the ice pack to his forehead. He wears the scowl for a while, but it eventually fades when he catches you with furrowed brows. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you reply casually.

“Tell me,” he half whines, half demands.

“I think when you fell, some of your brain must have come out because you’re staring at me more that usual.”

Oliver stands up abruptly, taking the ice from you, and storms off, leaving you to laugh alone.

Step Two: Give her compliments

“Wow, you actually don’t look like a piglet today,” Oliver comments as he sits down at the table to eat. He turns his attention to a book after making the comment. It’s just before sunrise, so he hasn’t had the chance to change back yet.

You blink, processing the information before you react, grabbing a spoon and whacking him on the head. “Piglets are cute! How dare you insult me?”

Oliver holds his head, rubbing the spot and yells back at you, “How do you find that an insult?! And why do you have to hit me there, I was previously injured!”

“Maybe if I push the bruise back inside, you’ll find some better compliments.”

“Maybe if you didn’t look like a wild animal, I’d have som,-”

Your eyes narrow and you’re ready to lunge at him, but just as you’re about to attack, Oliver changes into his younger self.

“Ha! You wouldn’t hit a child, would you?”

In response, you flick the tip of his nose and leave the room with his book. “You think too highly of me, Oli!” you call behind your shoulder as you head into the other room.

Step Three: Ask for her opinion

“Which feather do you think matches the hat more?” Oliver asks, holding up two relatively similar-looking feathers. One simply has a bit more of a shine to it. In the light, the one on the left also seems to be a bit more blue.

You tip your head to the side and raise an eyebrow. “They look… the same?”

Oliver throws his hands up in annoyance. “Are you blind? This one has a reflective coat on it, but this one is completely matte. Furthermore, this one,” he shakes his left hand, “is a completely different shade than the other. Not to mention that it’s also much more voluminous.”

You can’t help but laugh at how passionate he is about feathers.

“I don’t know. You pick. You’re going to wear it anyways.”

Oliver pouts slightly, wishing you had just given him an answer.

You huff, stand up, and pad over to his work station, admiring all of the feathers sprawled out on the table. After a moment, you pick up a golden feather and hand it to Oliver.

“This?!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty.”

“But it doesn’t even match. The hat is silver!”

You shrug. “You asked for my opinion, short cakes. That’s what I got.”

Step Four: Try to make her a little bit jealous

“So, Blanc and I will be headed out to the market to look for some items. Don’t burn the house down while we’re gone,” Oliver informs you as he reaches for his hooded cape. “It shouldn’t take us longer than an hour, but we might stop by the Neutral zone for a few minutes as well.”

“Alright, bring me back some desserts or something, I’m starving!”

Oliver glares at your indifference, so he clears his throat and continues. “Actually, we might stay out late longer. A new bar opened up in town, and we were thinking of going to see how good it is.”

“Don’t get too drunk, or you’ll be a ray of sunshine tomorrow,” you reply, still not looking up from your book.

“I wonder if they’ll have women there-”

This catches your attention, so you look at him. “Why? You want something to ogle at while you drink? I didn’t realize you were into that, Oli. Whatever floats your boat.”

Blanc waves and opens the door. “Come now, Oliver, we best be off if we want to meet the pretty ladies at the bar!”

“Oh hush, Cotton Tail!”

Step Five: Give her a gift

Oliver knocks on your door and waits for a response before coming inside. You’re sitting on the windowsill, looking outside at the stars. It’s a beautiful night, and you were admiring the sky. He lingers in the doorway for a moment before entering.

“Aren’t you scared of falling out of the house?” he asks bluntly, sitting on the chair in the corner.

You raise an eyebrow and stand up. As you close the window, you scold him. “You really know how to start a conversation, Oliver. What do you want at this time of night? I thought you were Blanc.”

“Why would I be Blanc?”

Nodding at the window, he sees the large, nearly full moon outside. “Oh…”

“I assumed he would tell me about the plan for tomorrow night, but I guess he’ll wait until morning.”

Oliver runs a hand through his hair and exhales slowly.

“Hm?” you ask, look at him with large eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just wanted to give you this before you left.” Oliver pulls out a small box from his jacket pocket and throws it at you. You catch it easily and pull on the ribbon keeping it closed. You’re expecting a prank – like a rock or a note saying you’re a piglet, but instead, you’re amazed to find a beautiful pendant in the shape of a heart winking at you. In the center, a gem similar to the ones on his jacket sparkled in the candle light.

“So when you go back, you can at least remember this place.”

You’re struggling to find words, and Oliver panics. “Do you not like it?” He stands up and walks towards you, only for you to run and leap into his arms, wrapping your own hands around his neck to hug him tightly.

“Are you thick? I love it. It’s beautiful… you didn’t have to though.”

Oliver tenses at your hug and doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “W-What do you mean ‘I didn’t have to’?”

You smile innocently. “I’m not going back. Not tomorrow at least.”

His jaw almost falls to the ground. “Then why did you say that about leaving?” Oliver demands. “And why aren’t you leaving?”

“Blanc warned me about falling in love while I’m here. He said that if I did, then I wouldn’t be able to return to my home. Despite his, I ended up falling for someone.”

Oliver deflates as he hears this. You loved someone?

“I really think something happened to you when you fell and hit your head. Either than, or you’re absolutely oblivious to the really obvious fact that it’s you, Oliver.”

“W-What?”

Knowing that he wouldn’t understand words, you step on your tiptoes and cup his face before kissing him. Just like when you hugged him, he’s tense and doesn’t know how to respond to your affection, but after a moment, he places his hands on your waist and pulls you closer. He reciprocates the kiss, hoping that you’d understand his feelings as well from it.

When you pull back, you smile happily and spin around, holding the necklace up. “Help me with it will you?”

“Don’t you want to talk about this more?” Oliver blushes slightly, but clips the chain in place anyways.

You spin back around and tap your lip with a finger. “Oh, right, you’re also really obvious. Did Blanc try to give you advice or something? Because the past few days, you’ve been acting really weird.”

Oliver growls as his blush darkens. “No.”

“You’re so cute when you’re angry! Like a grumpy shrimp!”

“I’ll show you a grumpy shrimp-” he yells as he starts to chase you around the room.

#oliver knight #ikemen revolution #reader x oliver knight #cybird #ikerev

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secretly-a-plant · 5 years

Text

PRB 2019 15-1

Here is my contribution to the @phandomreversebang 2019! I had a lot of fun writing this fic and I would like to thank @loyal-phan and @sublimehowlter for being an amazing artist and beta!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930063

The first thing that I register after hitting the damp pavement is that someone is frantically apologizing to me. When I open my eyes I see a tall dark-haired, blue-eyed man offering me a hand. I take it. His hands are smooth and warm, and I realize that I might have been holding on a second longer than acceptable.

“Oh god, I am so sorry!” I’m startled out of my embarrassment by another wave of hurried apologies.

“I was just walking Simon,” at that, I look down to a very adorable corgi sitting obediently at the man's feet “and I wasn’t paying attention and next thing I know-” “Can I pet your dog?”

“Can you-? Um, yeah. Sure”

I bend down and start scratching the dog, evidently named Simon, behind his ears.

“What a good boy you are! What a sweet boy.” I hear the man laughing and quickly stand up my cheeks bright red.

“Sorry,” I mumble

“No, it’s alright! I act the same way whenever I see a dog. I should be the one apologizing, your clothes are all wet now.”

“It’s alright, I was on my way home from work anyway.”

“Are you sure? I feel terrible about it.”

‘No really it’s fine, uh,” I break off not sure what his name is.

“Phil.” He supplies with a smile.

“It’s alright Phil.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. It was nice running into you, Phil.”

“Yeah, nice seeing you.”

---

By the time I get home my legs are starting to chafe from the wet denim. It’s alright though, the cute dog more than made up for it. It’s a good thing it happened on my way home from work, however. It would have been hell waiting tables all day with wet jeans. And as kind as my boss is, she never goes easy on us. Especially on Sundays, which just so happens to be our busiest day.

After a delicious yet slightly pathetic dinner of cold pizza, thoughts of Phil and his dog invade my brain. Out of curiosity I pull out my phone and type Phil into the Instagram search bar. Of course, millions of results pop up. I didn’t have high hopes, but there was a small part of me holding on to the hope that I might be able to find his account using only his first name.

After my fruitless Instagram search, I find myself drifting towards my bed, despite it only being around 9:45. Oh well, long day I guess. Surprisingly, since it normally takes me ages to fall asleep, I find my eyes drifting shut the minute I hit the mattress.

---

I wake up early, for once, which means I actually have time to enjoy my morning rather than throwing on yesterday’s clothes and quite literally running out the door. I take my time getting out of bed, stopping to look at my phone and take time to wake up. When I finally reach my small kitchen (which didn’t take very long considering how small my flat is) I realize that I have no coffee. I let out a disgruntled sigh as I come to terms with the fact that if I want caffeine, which I do, that I’ll have to head to work early putting my lazy morning to a halt. I grab my keys and head out.

I take my time walking to work, choosing to take the scenic route. Rather than the normal path I take, which has a superb view of trash cans and shady alleyways, today's route is lined with shops and restaurants and a Starbucks. The prospect of going and getting a latte of some sort seems much more appealing than getting a black coffee in a chipped mug. The minute I walk in I’m hit with a wave of warm air. A pleasant contrast to the icy weather outside. I start to head up to the counter, but I stop in my tracks when I come face to face with a pair of familiar blue eyes.

“Dan!” Phil says with a smile on his face. “What a coincidence!”

I find a smile growing on my face, what can I say? Something about his unwavering happiness is infectious.

“Oh, hi Phil!”

“Can I get you a coffee? I mean obviously, I’m assuming that's why you're here.”

“Uh-” I don’t come here very often, and the combination of my awkwardness in social situations and my lack of familiarity with the menu has me tripping over my words. “Surprise me? Just something with caffeine please.”

“You got it,” Phil responds with a chuckle. I start to pull out my wallet but he cuts me off. “Don’t worry about it, this one’s on the house.”

“It’s fine Phil, really.”

“No seriously, it’s the least I can do after running you over yesterday.”

“Well if you insist. I’ve never been one to turn down free coffee.” I say with a small laugh.

Phil smiles, before motioning over at the station. “Well if that’s all, I’m just going to go make your coffee.” He awkwardly gestures before walking away. I pull out my phone, scrolling through my Instagram feed while I wait for my coffee. After a few minutes, I see Phil walking back over with a cup in his hand. He hands it to me and looks up expectantly, waiting for me to take a sip.

“Jesus Phil, this is incredible! What is this?” He laughs

“Caramel Macchiato. My personal favorite.”

“Well if your choice in drinks is always this good you're going to have to surprise me again next time.” My phone buzzes with an alarm reminding me that I have obligations.

“Oh shit, I have to go, hopefully, I’ll run into you again soon.”

“Yeah, see you soon.”

It’s not until I’m almost at work that I notice a phone number messily scrawled onto the side of my cup.

---

I spend the majority of my break writing and deleting texts to Phil. He’s cute, there's no denying that, and he gave me his number, but it was probably just a friendly gesture. He seems like the type of person who makes friends with everyone. After many texts that I decide are either cringy, boring, or a combination of the two I settled on a simple but reliable ‘Hi its dan :)” and force myself to press send. I spend the last few minutes of my break opening and closing my phone and jumping every time my phone dings. In order to keep the anxiety at bay, I keep reminding myself that he’s at work; it makes sense if he doesn’t respond. Just because I’m on my break doesn’t mean he’s on his. Eventually, I have to go back to work, leaving my phone and a supposedly unread text in the pocket of my jacket.

All throughout the rest of my shift, my walk home, and while making and eating dinner, I try and fail, to forget about my text to Phil. Finally, after I’ve eaten and sunk into my bed for some quality binge-watching time, my phone buzzes. As I reach over, it buzzes again. And then a third time. I laugh to myself as I open my messages to see three texts from Phil.

Hi!!! soz I took so long to reply ^-^

have a dog to make up for it

what a good boy!

Is that simon????

yes! Im surprised you remembered his name lol

hes the reason i knocked you down yesterday

well if hes the reason i really cant complain

in fact i feel blessed to have been knocked down by that angel

maybe youd want to meet him again? maybe this time without ending up on the ground lol

I hesitate what to say to that, it feels risky meeting up with Phil. Even if he seems friendly, I did only meet him yesterday. But I also don’t want to pass up the opportunity to get to know him better.

um yes?

Yay! do you want to meet up tomorrow? Im off of work

yee

starbucks?

sure, me and simon cant wait :)

We end up texting for a while after that. Originally we were just arranging a time to meet, but it slowly turned into Phil asking me about my job, which led to many other things. The more I talked to Phil the more I liked him. We had very similar interests. We had the same taste in video games, music, and even takeaway places. Not to mention talking to Phil felt easy. Social interaction isn't exactly my forte, but with Phil, the conversation flowed smoothly. It would be nice to have a friend outside of work. I love my coworkers and my boss, but it’s not really the same. Besides, the diner is more a family to me than anything. Finally, the conversation winds down, both of us beginning to fall asleep. Even though I’m no longer texting him, I can’t stop thinking about Phil as I fall asleep.

---

The next day is sunny. A welcome change from the perpetual moistness that has haunted London for the last few days. I spend most of the morning laying in bed scrolling through social media. Not the healthiest past time I’ll admit, but once I get started on the Instagram explore page it’s hard to tear myself away. Eventually, I look at the time and realize that I only have about an hour before I’m supposed to meet Phil. After five more minutes, I drag myself out of bed and towards the shower.

Several outfit changes later, Starbucks is finally within my line of vision. I check the time to see that I still have a few minutes before Phil is due to get here so I take a seat on a bench and resume my scrolling. Not long after I sit down, however, I am attacked by a bundle of saliva and tan fur, accompanied by frantic calls of “Simon down!”.

“Hello there!” I say bringing my hands up to try and protect myself from the onslaught of dog.

“I’m so sorry about him, normally he’s so well behaved, I don’t know why he always jumps on you.”

“It’s really not a problem, Phil,” I say laughing.

“Well if you insist I guess. Do you want a coffee or anything while we're here?”

“I’m fine, I don’t want to keep you and Simon waiting.”

“Oh, well if you don’t mind I thought you could stay out here with Simon and I could go in and order.”

“I mean I’m always up for hanging out with dogs, but I really can’t have you buying me another coffee.”

“Seriously Dan, it’s fine. Think of it as a gift from Simon. Besides, I have an employee discount.”

I shrug, smiling. I take Simon’s leash from Phil and sit back down.

“Oh, Dan, what do you want?” I find myself breaking into a giant grin, enough to make my dimples pop.

“Surprise me.”

---

Two sugary coffees later and more walking then I do on a normal day, Phil and I are tossing tennis balls at a dog park.

“This is one of my favourite places to go with him,” Phil says, gesturing at Simon. “It’s a nice change of pace to be outside rather than stuck on a pavement block all day.”

“Mm. What else do you like to do in your spare time?”

“Uh, well, to be honest, I don’t really go outside that much. I pretty much spend the rest of my time staying inside on the internet.”

“Me neither to be honest, I spend most of my free time participating in online Mario Kart tournaments, as sad as that seems.”

“You play Mario Kart? We should race sometime.” “Only if you want to lose, Philip.”

“Oh really? Pretty confident for never having seen me play.”

“While I guess we’ll have to change that.”

“It’s a date. Well I mean, not a date date, unless you wanted to. But I mean, I don’t want to presume-”

“Phil, Phil, don’t worry, a date sounds nice. Although, to be honest, I’ve never been asked on a Mario Kart date before. But it does sound much more my style than a fancy dinner. “

“Me too, I’m not much of an extrovert. Oh shit, it’s getting dark. I should probably head home, but I’ll text you yeah?”

“Yeah sounds great. And Phil?”

“Yeah?” “I definitely prefer your company to video games.”

---

It takes a couple of weeks to find a date that works for both of us, first because of work, and then Phil got sick, and then I got sick. But, on the bright side, we spend almost all of that time texting and face timing, and occasionally I run into him at Starbucks when I’m grabbing a coffee. Unfortunately, my minimum wage and tips don’t cover daily overpriced coffee, even if it means I get to see a very nice, attractive, person.

On the bright side, we did eventually find a time. That time happens to be tonight, and to say I’m nervous would be an understatement. I end up spending about 45 minutes sorting through every article of clothing that I own before finally settling on jeans and a jumper, an outfit that is safe but far from extraordinary. After getting dressed I spend longer than necessary trying to get my hair to cooperate. Eventually, I just give up and call a cab. One extremely awkward cab ride later and I’m standing outside Phil’s door. I take a deep breath and raise my hand but before I get a chance to knock the door swings open.

“Dan! Hi! Come in, I’m sorry about the mess, I tried to clean but it's still pretty untidy.” I look down at my feet to see Simon wagging his tail excitedly. “It’s alright, my apartment is probably twice as bad.” As I walk into Phil’s flat and take my shoes off I notice that every surface is covered in something. The bookshelves are covered in plushies and figurines, the windowsills are adorned with plants in a questionable state of health, and the couch has a colourful blue and green quilt draped over the back. All in all, it just looks very Phil.

“If you want you can have a seat on the couch and I can order a pizza. What type do you like?” I’m startled out of my thoughts by Phil’s voice. I smile, feeling more content with my life then I have in a long time.

“Surprise me.”

~10 years later~

“The last ten years haven’t been easy. There’s been ups and downs, fortunately mostly ups. But you have been by my side for all of it. People and places have changed but you have remained a constant. I don’t know what life will bring, but I know I want you to be with me. I want to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up next to you every morning. So, Phil Lester, will you marry me?”

#prb19 #prb2019 #phanfiction #phandom #daniel howell #phil lester #Dan and Phil #phan

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exyjunkies · 6 years

Note

im unsure if you’re still doing these and i apologize if you’re not! how about “you lied to me” (can’t recall the number and mobile sucks :( ) for gansey/noah? thank you and sorry again!

don’t apologize, i’m always going to be doing these!! it’s only a matter of whether i have time on my hands or not + whether or not my brain is up to it HAHA so since i have a few hours before i have to leave…

fic meme 1-100: czernsey + 31. “You lied to me.”

send me a pairing (preferably from aftg/trc) and a number and i’ll write you a drabble (1-50) (51-100)

“Hey.”

Gansey knew that particular voice, how he only got to hear it whenever he was alone in the room. Maybe he heard it because he was the only one in the room. It took him by surprise the first few times, but now, being used to it, he’s learned to be more sensitive. More aware of why Noah would be calling.

He only reached out to Gansey through the small, red compact phone he left for him, which appeared a few days after he died. It had appeared on top of the many strewn-out papers on Gansey’s desk, and Gansey was this close to throwing it out before it rang for the first time, just a few inches away from the trash bin.

Don’t you dare throw that away, Gansey, Noah’s voice said through the speaker. This is the only way I’ll be able to reach you.

Was hell really that uptight with its rules? Gansey remembered being amused. It was so ironic that hell of all places was keeping a close eye on Noah and his behavior.

Well, it’s already around 500 degrees here. Pissing off the boss man would make it worse. Cut me some slack.

“Noah,” Gansey greeted, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder. He was busy with putting a few books away - Ronan had gotten particularly mouthy about how Monmouth was “a few steps away from being a garbage disposal”, and Matthew had laughed. He tiptoed, pushing a particular book further into the already crammed bookshelf.

“I hear things between the gang aren’t so… peachy.”

“You know, you can always tell Satan to stop playing with the real world.”

“It’s not that easy, Gansey. It’s human nature. Hell doesn’t even really have a say in worldly affairs.”

Gansey shook his head. Their lives haven’t been the best, that much he was willing to admit. Adam and Ronan were going through a tough time because Adam was studying in Yale - Adam was struggling with the moral dilemma of how much of a sin it was that he had chosen his studies over a proximal life with Ronan, and Ronan disapproved of having that much of a distance between the both of them. Blue was away on business herself, having joined a week-long environmental summit that was a few cities over. From her texts to Gansey, it seemed that her mood was growing exponentially worse by the day. And it was, to a certain level, starting to drive Gansey nuts.

“I don’t even know why you went to hell, Noah,” Gansey sighed, taking hold of the phone and walking over to this couch. He flopped onto it, looking up at the moths flying close to their ceiling light. “You’re probably the nicest one among us all.”

“I spent years lying to everyone around me about my being a ghost. That counts as a good enough sin to land me here. Besides, it’s not so bad. You get used to the temperature, and the work lessens with every person that gets sent down here. I’m practically a Satan favorite.”

Gansey laughed. “Well, you lied to me, and to the rest of us, and we didn’t give you so much shit for it.”

“Well. You’re not God, are you, Gansey?”

Exhaling, Gansey put a hand behind his head. “Heh. Yeah. Guess not.”

For a while, Gansey stared up into space, listening to the night crickets outside. He eyed the watch on his wrist, and saw that it was half-past ten. Only around fifteen minutes more until Ronan would arrive. Noah hadn’t spoken to Ronan in a long time, and for a while, it would have to stay that way. Now, Noah just wasn’t comfortable with talking to anyone else.

As if hearing this, Noah piped up, “How’s Lynch?”

“Same old, same old. The Barns is doing well. I always knew he had it in him.”

“Aglionby really was a shit way for him to spend all that time.”

“Aglionby was shit in general. If I didn’t like teaching there as much as I did, I would’ve quit a long time ago.”

“Oh yeah. That history professor gig still happening?”

“Very much so. Today, a student tried to one-up me on Glendower. Fucking crazy. He really thought he was the shit. I sent him to detention.”

He heard Noah scoff. “That’s the Gansey I know.”

A cold breeze wafted through the windows of Monmouth, light and singsong-y. It made a few papers float up and onto the ground, and Gansey shivered. He thrust his free hand into his jacket pocket, clenching it for some warmth.

“You know what,” Noah said, after a few moments. “I have a proposition.”

“What?”

“One of these days, I’ll be brave enough to sneak out of the Underworld -- not like it’s that hard to -- and be a ghost in the real world again, with you guys. Maybe not soon. But someday.”

Gansey thought this over silently, putting a leg up over the back of his couch.

“I mean, it’d be nice,” Noah continued, and Gansey could hear the wistfulness in his voice. “Just like old times.”

Gansey didn’t want to focus on the sadness in Noah’s tone, or on the heaviness in his own chest. He missed Noah terribly, and Noah missed them all the same. It’s been years, really, but was time really enough for them to forget?

With a person like Noah, Gansey supposed it truly wasn’t.

“I’d like that,” Gansey said, and he heard Noah sniff a bit. “Just like old times.”

“That’s all. Thanks for talking to me, Gans. I’ll go now.”

“Of course, Noah. Bye for now.”

“Bye.”

Noah hung up, and all Gansey had to listen to was the way the wind softly rifled through Monmouth, along with the somewhat steady beating of his heart.

#czernsey #noah czerny #richard gansey iii #gansey #the raven cycle #ficmeme100 #trc fic #myfic #anonymous #answered #what is this lmao #anyway i'm off to my brother's graduation!!

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zoemurph · 6 years

Text

to have a friend, chapter four: $80

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3

fun fact i actually finished this like.....tuesday at 4 am cause i died for a bit between like 10-1 and then couldnt sleep. i have edited it since then tho so i promise its not too much of a disaster!

warnings: implied past self harm, discussions of mental health, depression/depressive episodes, some suicidal thoughts. let me know if anything else needs to be tagged

enjoy!

From: Evan To: Connor Just go t home Hope things ar eok with yoru family

Connor stares at the texts for a few moments before he falls back onto his bed.

Who knows how his family is.

Actually, he knows. A fucking mess. That’s what his family is.

He can hear Zoe practicing in the room next to him, forgoing headphones and using her amp because she wants to piss him off more. Larry had slunk back to his office, and Connor was sure he did as soon as the opportunity presented itself. His mom is in the kitchen, probably aggressively cleaning dishes like a sparkling plate will fix her shattered family.

Connor stares at the ceiling.

Why did he think he could do any of this?

He lifts his phone and looks at the screen again. Evan is trying. Which is just ridiculous. Evan is trying with this family. What the fuck.

From: Connor To: Evan cool they never are but thanks i guess

He tosses his phone to the side and debates doing homework. There’s not really much of a debate — he’s not going to do it — but the fact that he considered it is probably worth something.

It’s not that late yet, which is frustrating. He wants to go to bed, but he’s also too high strung for that. Usually he’d be exhausted but—

Connor studies his ceiling.

He’d been angry. So angry. Burning and explosive. He had been on the edge of his rope and about to break— and then he’d been doused in a shock of cold water. He’d been standing outside the bathroom, insides blistering and turning to ash, and then he’d heard Evan’s unnatural breathing and all of that had just stopped. The fire was gone and he was left with only mild panic that made his mouth taste like metal and an icy chill of not knowing what to do or how to help.

Somehow, sitting on the floor of him and Zoe’s painfully childish bathroom with Evan had been the most real part of the night. It felt the most solid, most tangible. Handing Evan one of those silly cups his mom kept buying, their fingers brushing as Evan took it with shaking hands, that was the most grounded he had felt in days.

Fucking weird.

There’s a knock on his doorframe.

Connor sits up to see Cynthia standing there. “Oh. Hi.”

She smiles, sadly because that’s the only way she smiles nowadays, and takes a step into his room. “Did Evan leave?”

“Uh…yeah. It’s not like he could hide in my closet or anything.” They both look toward the disaster that is Connor’s closet. The doors won’t shut and clothes are piled up on the floor. There was a time where Connor liked things to be neat and orderly. Now he doesn’t have the energy. “He wasn’t feeling great.”

She makes a concerned noise.

“He, uh, gets sick really easily. He’ll probably be fine tomorrow.” Connor curses in his head. Better jot that down so he can tell Evan that Cynthia now thinks that his immune system is shitty. Because she’s probably going to shove all sorts of vitamins and health drinks at him the next time she sees him. If there’s a next time.

God there better not be a next time.

Cynthia sighs. “I’m sorry about tonight, sweetie.”

Connor shrugs and swings his legs off the side of the bed. “It’s not like it was going to be any different than usual.”

The expression on her face is so pained that Connor has to look away. He can’t even be mad at her. He’s pissed at Zoe for her snippy comments. He’s mad at Larry because he’s always mad at Larry. He’s upset with his mom— the most he can be upset with her for is for not trying harder to stop things from getting out of hand. But when has she ever been able to stop it once it started?

Mostly Connor is just mad at himself.

The only reason Evan was here was because he gets paid twenty dollars a week. It’s not like he has any other obligation to be here. Or to hang around Connor. If there was ever a chance that Evan would actually like Connor, that just went out the fucking window.

“Are you hungry?” Cynthia asks, softly. Not as forced as usual. Not as pressing. “You didn’t eat much.”

“I’m fine,” Connor mutters. He tugs off his sweatshirt and throws it on his desk chair. He tries not to notice her eyes going to his arms and then flicking away. “I’ll grab something if I can’t sleep.”

She sighs again. She does that a lot. Sighing. “Okay. Okay, just…” She steps forward and brushes hair away from Connor’s eyes. “Apologize to Evan for us, okay?”

“Why?” Connor asks bitterly. “Because we can be better?”

Cynthia doesn’t say anything. She just stands on her toes and presses a kiss to Connor’s cheek. “Sleep well, honey.”

Connor stands in the center of his room after she leaves. He hates not having a door. It’s like his entire life is out in the open for his entire family to see and judge. Which is some bullshit.

He looks around his room, open and exposed, and thinks that he should clean. Or something. He’s living in a dump.

Connor picks up a sweatshirt and stuffs a few books onto an overflowing bookshelf. Under papers from junior year that he just needs to throw out when he gets the chance, he finds a watercolor sketchbook.

He pauses with four old plastic water bottles in arm to flip through the sketchbook. It’s old as hell, he doesn’t even remember the last time he used watercolors. Or did any art that wasn’t just shitty sketches in his notebook when he didn’t feel like paying attention.

He looks over his shoulder at the light in the hallway.

Connor isn’t entirely sure where his watercolors are. Probably somewhere under the trash and clothing covering his floor. He looks from the watercolor sketchbook to his bed.

He dumps the water bottles in the space between his wall and his bed and starts digging. It takes him almost twenty five minutes to find his watercolor palette. It’s old and dusty, the red is cracked and the purple is almost gone because he always really liked using purple for some reason, but it’s usable.

It takes him a little longer to find brushes. He’s definitely missing some, but fuck it, he never actually knew what the different brushes were for. He just used whatever ones he felt like.

He washes out an old mug that was on his desk from god knows when in the bathroom and fills it with clean water, grabbing a roll of paper towels from the hallway closet. Then he pushes the clothes on his floor into a pile against the wall so he can sit on the floor, because there is no way in hell that he’s cleaning off his desk for this. He fishes his earbuds out of his backpack and plugs them into his phone, turning on some random music that he’ll let fade to into background noise and pulls his hair up into a really messy ponytail.

Connor can’t remember the last time he actually paid attention to art. He doodles a sketch that’s kind of messy but fine enough because it’s not like anyone is going to see this and then just goes for it. He doesn’t exactly remember how to do this, but he’s never been one for doing things the right way. There’s a reason he stopped taking art classes after freshman year. There’s something weirdly calming about the way the water spreads on the page and something familiar in the brushstrokes. Even when he fucks up and uses way too much water and he knows that the paper is going to be wavy and warped.

He puts down the paintbrush to skip a song on his phone. He has another text from Evan.

From: Evan To: Connor Im sorr y YOu should nt feel that way abou tyour family

Connor rolls his eyes. Evan really does try.

From: Connor To: Evan its whatever, im used to it mom says sorry about tonight. shes embarrassed but seriously dont worry about it

He skips through the songs until he finds one that feels right, slower and almost more gentle, he really needs to pick up better watercolors because he’s going to need that purple, before putting his phone back down on the floor next to him.

All things considered, this isn’t the worst piece Connor’s ever done. He studies it as he takes a sip from his mug.

He yanks the mug away from his mouth, gagging. He rubs his mouth with a grimace.

That was paint water.

Connor doesn’t really leave his room much over the next two days. He eats because his mom wants him to, he doesn’t talk to Zoe, and he argues with Larry and wishes he had a door to slam.

Then he sits on his floor and fills pages and pages of his sketchbook with shitty watercolor paintings.

He splashes colors across the pages, sometimes not even trying to create a coherent image. He just needs something to do.

He’s almost out of purple.

Connor waits by Evan’s locker Monday morning, folding and unfolding the twenty dollar bill in his pocket. Zoe needed to be early today for some band thing, so that means Connor is early which just sucks.

This school seriously needs a color palette that isn’t drab and depressing. Connor wears almost exclusively black, but fuck, tone down the gray.

“Oh! Hey, you’re…already here.”

Connor looks up from his phone. “Zoe,” he says. “Band shit. Fuck if I know.”

Evan nods slowly and then reaches for his lock.

“Wait.” Connor grabs Evan’s wrist.

Evan freezes, wide eyes darting to Connor. “W-what?”

Connor leans a little closer. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he whispers. Evan furrows his eyebrows. “My family is the fucking worst, you shouldn’t have to deal with that shit.”

“I-it’s fine!” Evan stutters. “I don’t— no this is. This is okay.” He slowly pulls his arm out of Connor’s grip.

Connor clenches his jaw and leans against the next locker. Evan doesn’t say anything as he opens his locker and starts taking out books. An unfairly loud part of Connor’s brain wonders if Evan is only doing this because he’s scared.

It’s not that far fetched.

“B-besides,” Evan adds, “Jared is— he’s already asking too many questions and if we just stopped now—”

Connor frowns. “He is?”

Evan gives him an exasperated look. “He hasn’t texted me about non homework things in forever and he’s just been sending me ‘is it a sex thing’ for a week.”

“Wow I hate him,” Connor says before he can stop himself.

Evan laughs in surprise.

“He’s a douche!”

Evan ducks his head. “He’s not the worst person ever, b-but he can be…himself.”

“And that’s pretty bad,” Connor mutters.

Evan pauses and then closes his locker. “Do— are you still okay with…with telling him?”

Connor shrugs. “Sounds like we have no choice.”

Evan tugs on the hem of his shirt. “Are you…free today?”

“I literally have no life or friends, Hansen,” Connor reminds him. “I’m always free.”

“Okay, right, okay.” Evan takes a short breath. “Can we— today?”

Connor stuffs his hands in his pockets. He hasn’t gotten harassed by Kleinman about this yet, but if they wait, the chances of that happening increase significantly. And if it’ll get Jared off Evan’s back— “Yeah sure. Where?”

“My place?” Evan asks. Connor pulls open the door to the stairwell. “I-if that works?”

“Sure thing.” Connor’s voice echoes uncomfortably loud for this conversation. “Better than being at home anyway.”

Evan glances back over his shoulder at Connor. “Are things…bad?” He says it slowly, like he’s not sure what word to choose.

“They’ve been worse,” Connor admits. “But it’s not a party.”

Evan stops at the stairs where Connor has to keep going down to get to chorus. “I’ll— I’ll text you? About the time?”

Connor nods. “Sounds good, Hansen. See you then.” He steps forward and hands Evan the twenty that has been floating around in his pocket for too long. “Forgot to pay you back for food last week,” he says when Evan’s eyes dart toward people walking past.

Evan gives him a half smile and takes the bill. “I-I told you it was fine. I can pay sometimes.”

Connor shrugs and turns toward the stairs. “Too late.”

—«·»—

From: Evan To: Connor Im s o s rry just ignore him or block him he grabbed my phon e Serious ly blockign him mihgt be the best opti n

From: Connor To: Evan ??????

Connor probably shouldn’t be texting in class, but the class is astronomy and also when has Connor ever given a fuck. He stares at Evan’s messages, trying to decode them while he waits for the lunch bell.

It turns out he doesn’t have to wait that long to figure out what they mean.

From: (522) 101-5414 To: nerd, emo sup fuckers

Connor doesn’t even have to ask who it is, he just tries not to groan and texts Evan.

From: Connor To: Evan seriously??

From: Evan To: Connor Im sorry !!! Hes being a d ick Also does like 3 work?

Connor huffs and glances to the clock. That’ll give him about an hour to kill after school before he can show up at Evan’s. Whatever, he’ll figure something out.

From: Connor To: Evan thats fine tell kleinman if hes being a dick i will hurt him

Evan’s response is almost immediate.

From: Evan To: Connor I wouldnt blame you but ma y be dotn hurt the one pe rson whos gonna knw about us

Connor snorts and puts away his phone. He’ll do his best, but only because Evan asked.

—«·»—

Connor texts Evan as he walks up to the house. The door is open before he can even knock. Evan looks slightly panicked, but also somewhat relieved. Connor lowers his hand from where he was about to knock.

“He here?”

Evan nods and grabs Connor’s sleeve, tugging him inside.

Connor takes off his boots while Evan rambles on about Jared being in his room and talking about something, summer camp? Maybe? And then there’s a tangent about cars? Connor isn’t sure but he puts down his boots, straightens, and puts a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Breathe,” he interrupts. “You’re going to pass out and you really don’t want to leave Kleinman and I alone together.”

Evan takes a slow breath. “Right. Right. He’s… Come on.”

He shows Connor up the stairs, gesturing vaguely to a bathroom as he moves toward his room. Connor didn’t really notice how small Evan’s house is the last time he was here, but now he feels too large in it, like he’s taking up too much space. But it’s also comforting in a weird way, less empty space for thoughts to echo.

Jared spins around in Evan’s desk chair when Evan opens the door. “Man of the hour!” Jared announces, opening his arms in Connor’s direction.

Connor flips him off.

“Okay, rude. I can work with rude.”

“Jared,” Evan says warningly.

“I know, I know.” Jared spins back and forth a little in the chair. For some reason, Connor thinks giving him a chair that turns may have been a bad idea. “If I’m an ass you won’t give me pizza.”

Connor scoffs. “You bribed him?”

Evan shrugs helplessly. “I just— can we not talk about this?”

“Yeah,” Jared agrees. “I was promised juicy deets on whatever the fuck this is.” He motions between Connor and Evan. “Cause uh,” he laughs, “guys, what the shit?”

“We aren’t friends,” Connor says flatly.

Evan twists the hem of his shirt in his hands.

“Yeah no shit, Sherlock.” Jared grabs the arms of the chair and leans forward. “Wait this is a sex thing, isn’t it! Evan you said—”

“It’s not a sex thing!” Evan shouts. “It’s a—” He looks to Connor with wide eyes. “A…fake friend…thing?”

“Excuse me?”

Connor explains before Evan can flounder any more. “I give Evan twenty bucks a week to pretend to be my friend.”

Jared stares at them.

Evan shifts uncomfortably next to Connor. Connor kind of wants to leave, but Evan wants to do this, so…

Jared snorts. “Are you fucking serious?”

Evan cringes. “Y-yes?”

“This is—”

“We know, Kleinman,” Connor snaps. “But we need your help.”

Evan looks at Connor in surprise. ‘We do?’ he mouths to Connor. Connor nods. Spur of the moment thought, but he literally can’t keep dealing with Zoe bugging him about Evan. Who gives a shit if they never hung out together around school, even if that is a lie. He needs some sort of proof so she shuts up.

Jared spins slowly in his chair. “How so?”

“Evan said we emailed each other,” Connor says. “But my dad checks my email. So this email account would have to be ‘secret’.”

Jared raises his eyebrows. “That’s—”

“We know, Jared!” Evan interrupts. “C-can you just—” He glances toward Connor. “We need…emails from over the summer?” Connor nods. “Can you just, like, show me how to fake the timestamps o-or something?”

“Oh yeah, that’s super easy,” Jared says. He leans down and unzips the backpack leaning against the desk and pulls out a laptop. He opens the laptop and types something out. “Secret email account is very—”

Connor grits his teeth. “Just do it, Kleinman.”

“Yeah, yeah. Watch the monkey dance,” Jared mutters to himself. “That’s super fun.” He pauses. “If Evan gets twenty bucks a week for this, what do I get?”

“The gift of life.”

Evan shoots Connor a look.

“Awesome.” Jared types for another moment. “You know,” he says, “twenty bucks seems pretty cheap.”

“Are you trying to be difficult?” Connor grumbles.

“Always.”

“I-it’s fine,” Evan stutters. “Re-really, Jared?”

“I’m just saying,” Jared says with a shrug. “You should totally charge more for more complicated stuff. Twenty for faking friendship, forty for hanging out, sixty for being around the family.”

“What?!”

Connor glances to Evan out of the corner of his eye. Evan is protesting, but it’s not the worst idea. Especially after the dinner that Evan suffered through. Connor is going to have to ‘borrow’ more money from his parents’ wallets, but hey, at least it’s not for weed.

“I really fucking hate that I’m saying this,” Jared and Evan look over to Connor, “but that’s not a terrible plan.”

Jared smirks. “Nice.”

Evan gapes. “W-what?”

“If you spend a few hours dealing with my shitty family, that probably is worth more than saying hi to me in the hallway.” Connor crosses his arms. “I should probably pay you more when you have to deal with more bullshit.”

“N-no, that isn’t— you don’t have to—”

“Let him give you money, Evan.” Jared types rapidly on his laptop. “I’m making you two up a fucking price chart for reference.”

“Jared—”

“One condition,” Connor says. “If we’re doing this it’s only ten dollars a week, if that’s okay,” he directs the last part to Evan. “I’m not a goddamn millionaire.”

“Annoying but valid,” Jared says. “The weekly flat rate is ten dollars then, nonnegotiable.”

Evan sinks down into the other chair that someone had pulled up to the desk.

“I think the first step up is hanging out outside of school.” Jared glances to Connor.

Connor nods. “Three for outside, five for my house.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Evan asks weakly.

“Nope,” Jared says, popping the ‘p’. “If hanging out involves the fam, I say it’s an instant five more.”

“How about two added on to the location fee,” Connor argues.

Jared scoffs. “That’s three dollars, man.”

“Try to remember we’re high schoolers,” Connor says flatly.

Evan wimpers.

Jared pats Evan’s arm. “Okay. Extended family is another three. No arguing that one, extended family is bullshit. Twenty bucks flat for a sleepover. Like on top of the weekly ten.”

Evan’s eyes go wide. “What?! No!”

Jared looks to Connor.

Connor shrugs. “Fine.” He doesn’t think that will be relevant but whatever. If it gets written down it’s not the end of the world.

Jared smiles to himself and starts to type quickly.

“W-what are you doing?” Evan asks, leaning closer to try and get a look at the screen.

Jared elbows Evan away. “Shh I’m working.”

Connor raises his eyebrows.

“Aaaaaand…done.” Jared spins his laptop to show Connor.

Connor squints at the list Jared has made on the document.

This is the Worst Plan I’ve Ever Heard But Have Fun You Friendless Losers created by Jared Kleinman

$10 — weekly flat rate no matter what

—

Casual Shit:

$3 — hanging out outside of school $5 — hanging out at the Murphys’ (+$2 to location fee if it involves other Murphys) (+$3 more if it involves any extended family) $20 — sleepover

—

Romance Shit:

$25 — date $5 — hug $15 — kiss $200 — Full Boyfriend Package™

(FFBP™ decreases all things in this section by $10, except for dates, which drop to $20. No, you do not get paid for hugs, hugs are just free now. Congrats, you just paid two hundred fucking dollars for a free hug)

Connor rolls his eyes. “You’re fucking hilarious,” he deadpans.

Evan pales as he reads it once Jared has turned the screen toward him. “Uh…”

Jared snorts. “It’s called a joke, dude. Learn to take it.”

“J-just delete it,” Evan stammers. “That’s not— we were supposed to make emails.”

“Okay.” Jared highlights the romance section and deletes it. “It’s gone.”

Evan sighs. “Thank you.”

Jared does a keyboard shortcut. “And it’s back!”

“Jared!”

“Gone! And back!”

Evan’s ears turn pink. “S-seriously?”

Jared just wiggles his eyebrows and deletes it again. When he starts to hit undo, Connor leans forward and grabs the laptop out of his hands.

“Dude!”

“We aren’t fucking five,” Connor says. “Can you help us with these emails before my sister tries to call a fucking private detective on me or are you just going to be a dickhead?”

“That’s no way to talk to someone who’s helping you out,” Jared says. But he holds out his hand for the laptop, and when Connor gives it back, he spins around, puts the laptop on the desk, and opens a new tab.

Him and Connor set up a new email account and then Jared has Evan open up his own email. As Jared sets up faked emails that Evan and Connor will fill with mindless shit, Connor looks around Evan’s room.

There’s a window with two small succulents sitting on its windowsill. There are pictures scattered around the room in mismatched frames, a lot of Evan and a woman he assumes is his mother, more than a few of Evan and Jared when they were younger but less and less as they get older until there’s none, and one small picture of Evan with a man that looks vaguely like him that sits on the corner of Evan’s desk, a stack of books obscuring it slightly.

Connor remembers Evan saying something about his dad and looks away.

Evan’s room is much smaller than Connor’s. It’s cozier and cleaner, but still untidy. The books in Evan’s shelves are piled up and tipping over, there are a few sweatshirts draped around the room, and there’s a terrifying looking pile of papers on his nightstand.

“Yo,” Jared says, holding out his laptop to Connor. “Work out what you want these to say with Evan so I can finish this. While you do that I’m going to find some snacks.”

“We’re out,” Evan answers almost immediately from where he’s bent over his laptop.

“I’m going out to buy snacks,” Jared corrects. “See you in a bit, losers.”

Connor stares at the blank form that Jared has pulled up on the screen. How many of these things is he going to have to do and is this going to turn into a school assignment?

“It’s probably easier if one of us starts,” Evan murmurs. “And then we just go back and forth and respond to whatever the other says.”

“Like actual emails.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, just faster.”

“Sure. Let’s keep the things that can mark when this shit got sent to a minimum, okay?” Connor’s summer is a blur. He spent probably too much of it high and another big majority of it just doing nothing. Looking back at it, it all just blends together into a mess of shitty and shittier.

Evan nods. “Mhm. I’ll start if you want.”

“Go wild.”

As Evan types, Connor clicks through the other tabs Jared has open. One for the email account, a few google searches, a coding thing Connor doesn’t understand, and the price list. Jared put the romance section back.

Connor makes a note on the document that just says ‘youre a dick’ and clicks back to the dauntingly blank form.

An hour later, Evan has finished his sixth email, Connor is typing out a shitty response, and Jared has shown up with enough chips to feed a small nation. They figure out how to space the emails they’ve already written and Jared gets to work on finishing up the ones they’ve got written.

“Should we do the whole summer?” Evan asks.

Connor shrugs. “I don’t care, Zoe will probably buy it with one or two.”

Jared spins back and forth as he adds all the timestamps. “Someone order a pizza, I’m dying.”

Evan checks the time. “Jared it’s only—”

“Yeah? And?”

“You just ate like an entire bag of chips.”

Jared looks up at Evan. “When has that ever stopped me from eating an entire pizza?”

Evan shakes his head. “W-whatever. The usual?”

Jared shoots him a finger gun as he types with one hand.

“I’ll go with,” Connor says. He follows Evan down to the kitchen to see another twenty dollar bill in the center of the table. “Want me to call it in?” he asks.

Evan nods. “Jared always gets a supreme. If he doesn’t finish he just brings it home.”

Fair, Connor would do the same if he cared more about eating. He can only handle so much of his mom’s cooking. Connor places the call and then waits with Evan at the table. “Does your mom have you get takeout a lot?” he asks, looking at the bill.

Evan follows his gaze. “Uh… I-I mean…yeah. She works all day at the hospital, she’s a nurse, a-and then takes night classes at the college,” he gestures vaguely toward the street and Connor assumes he means the community college that people who are ambitious like Alana Beck go to to take summer classes so they look more impressive to admissions, “so…she doesn’t really have ti-time to cook and I’m— I’m not very good at it,” Evan mumbles. “I can do…ramen? Um…mac n cheese. Instant stuff. Other than that I can make like…pasta and grilled cheese and that’s…sort of it. But she doesn’t have a lot of time to go to the grocery store and I, uh, don’t like going so. Takeout is…easier.”

Connor nods. “I get that. You can’t go wrong with ramen noodles. One day we’ll both be living off them,” he jokes.

Evan looks to him in surprise. He smiles a little. “Y-yeah, I guess that’s true.”

Connor suddenly realizes that he talked about the future casually. About college casually, because he can remember one time when he was little and sick and Larry made ramen noodles for him and Connor had decided that they were the best thing ever and Larry had ruffled his hair and said that he’d get sick of them when they were all he ate in college. It’s uncomfortable. It settles wrong inside him. Because outside of the context of that one quip, the future doesn’t feel real. It feels like some untouchable abstract concept.

Thinking about it makes his stomach turn and makes dark thoughts creep in from the corners of his mind.

He shakes them away and listens to Evan talk about how he’s ruined soup before. It’s better than thinking about a future that hardly exists, one that he’s ready to cut the string on at almost any given moment in time.

Evan buries his face in his hands as he tells Connor about the time Jared tried to make eggs in the microwave and almost set fire to the house. Connor laughs and pretends he’s okay.

When the pizza arrives, Connor pays the delivery person while Evan goes and gets Jared. It’s too early for dinner, but Jared doesn’t care and eats two slices before going upstairs to grab his laptop and then eats another. Evan eats breadsticks and lets Jared carry most of the conversation, about half of which is about how weird Connor eats his pizza.

Evan makes Connor take a slice of pizza back, because he ends up missing dinner at home, and Connor just rolls his eyes and takes the plastic tupperware and promises to give it back at some point. Evan shakes his head and tells him not to, because they have too much and they can never find lids that match. Connor figures he’ll just slip it back into a cabinet the next time he comes over.

Next time. Connor doesn’t think in next times. Weird.

#connor murphy #evan hansen #jared kleinman #deh #deh fanfic #my fics #to have a friend #welcome to Hell

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713-4th-ward-g · 1 year

Text

#i can't even begin to comprehend people who just leave the shopping carts in parking lanes #especially when the cart holder is right next to it #i can't begin to comprehend the either laziness or inconsideration they have #the only excuse they can give is there workers who put the carts in but like bruh 😂 you're making it so much harder for them #especially during summer #getting paid minimum wage in the hot sun and see someone whos right next to the cart holder just leave the cart in a parking lane #like it isnt even being lazy at that point you really have no consideration of people to not only block a parking lane #due to your sheer laziness to walk 5 feet to a holder and inconsideration but no its just way more convenient to leave the cart there #sheesh 🙄 i cant its such a pet peeve of mine seeing all these carts so close to the placeholder for them but people still just leave them #like you really leave it to other people to do it for you like if its okay #i just cant stand how inconsiderate and lazy people are becoming #its even worse when i see someone litter LMAO #i really be leaving trash in my pocket until im able to throw it away responsibly #I'm not some social justice warrior 😂 i just have consideration for others and that quality must ne disappearing #swear I'm looking at this person unload their cart right next to the place holder #and guess what she ddddiiiid!!!!!#she didnt even put it in the place holder but in the way

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ernmark · 7 years

Note

Can we maybe get more of the au where Peter's the detective and Juno's the thief?

Excellent timing! I’ve been on-and-off working on this one for a while now, so here’s a chance to show you what I’ve got.

Warnings for blood & gore, violence, and some medical squickiness.

You can find Part 1 here | Part 2

It doesn’t matter how fast he runs. The gangsters coming afterhim could follow at a walk; all they have to do is follow the increasinglywobbly trail of blood that he’s leaving behind. Hell, at this rate, they mightnot even catch up with him before he bleeds out. They won’t even have to finishthe fight, then. They can just throw his body in the trunk of a car and collectthe Kanagawas’ bounty on his sorry corpse. And all the while, Cassie is busyrunning in the opposite direction, making her way into the safety of the sewers.

It’s not a bad way to go, all things considered. A little bitsymmetrical, even: he spent most of his childhood trying to get away from hismom; it’s only fitting that his last act is helping another dame escape fromher stepmom and her army of cameras. He can live with that.

And even if he couldn’t, it’s not like he’d have to live with itfor much longer, anyway. It’s getting hard to see straight. His foot snags on acrack in the concrete, and he sprawls across dirty pavement. He tries to pushhimself upright, but he can’t catch his breath.

A car slides to a halt ahead of him, blocking the mouth of thealley. The realization makes Juno feel a little stupid. Of course they wouldn’tjust be chasing him on foot. Of course somebody would have gone ahead to cutoff his escape.

Someone gets out of the car and kneels beside him. “Oh, Juno.What have you gotten yourself into now?”

It’s not an unpleasant voice. Not unfamiliar, either.

“Juno, I need you to get up. Please.”

Juno can barely breathe, but a name still slips out among hisfrantic coughing: “Rose?”

It’s not Rose, though. It’s Rex Glass, or Christopher Morales,or any of a dozen other aliases that he’s scattered across the city.

Another voice, higher and more grating: “Oh my gawsh—he’s notdead, is he?”

“Stay in the car,” Rose calls. “And get out of sight. Someone’scoming.”

The car slides out of the mouth of the alley, and Rose rises tohis feet. “Hold on, Juno. It’ll be over soon.”

Juno drags himself onto his hands and knees. If Rose is going tokill him, then he can look Juno in the eyes when he does it.

But Rose is gone. Juno is alone in the alley, still bleedingfrom the wound in his chest. There’s only two more shots left on hislaser—three, if he reduces their power to stun. And there are seven gangstersrushing down the alley toward him. They slow down, out of breath from thechase. There’s no point in running anymore when they’ve got him cornered.

Juno is going to die here. He already knows that. But at leasthe won’t go down without a fight.

“I told you I got ‘im,” one of the gangsters says to the others.

“Don’t be an idiot. I was the one who hit him,” snaps another,and a third adds his two cents. While they argue, none of them notice a shadowdetaching itself from the wall behind them. It moves against the dark alley sosmoothly that Juno might have thought he imagined it. At least, until a plasmablade slices through three necks in a single swipe. The bodies don’t even hitthe floor before Rose slashes through a fourth. But by now the others havewised up to the attack. They round on him, lasers drawn—

And conveniently forget that Juno has his laser, too.

Three shots, and they’re down. Maybe not dead, but they won’t begetting up any time soon.

“Thank you for that, Juno.” Rose steps over their bodies.

Juno falls back. The alley is swimming. The only thing he cansee clearly is Rose’s face as it gets closer. “Here for the bounty?”

“Of course not.” He’s coming closer. Almost angelic, that face.“I’m here to help you. You need medical attention.”

Juno’s smile turns grim. “Think I haven’t heard? I’m worthdouble alive.�� Maybe more than that, since he helped Cassie escape.

God, he hopes she makes it out.

Rose says something, but Juno can’t understand. Everything soundgarbled and far away.

The last thing he sees areRose’s impossibly bright eyes.

Cassandra Kanagawa has been kidnapped.

That’s how her family is spinning it, anyway—never mind thatshe’s gone on strike four times in the past year, and her streams have beenforcibly interrupted by ‘technical difficulties’ countless times during herrants about her need to escape from her stepmother’s clutches. A mistreated starletfinally escaping the grasp of her manipulative family? That’s the kind of storythat would make people turn off the Kanagawa streams and feeds purely out ofsolidarity.

A kidnapping, though—that’s got people glued to their screens,frantically refreshing in case there’s another update. Especially because thekidnapper has already been identified: the Hellhound of Hyperion City.

Oh, yes, they couldcall it what it really is: one of their employees who got off his leash andstarted going after the kinds of people that the HCPD wouldn’t dare to touch.The enemy of mobsters and kingpins everywhere. But that risks making him looklike a scrappy underdog, and then people might even start rooting for him— imitating him, even— and they can’t havethat. So they paint him as the big bad boogeyman, instead.

That doesn’t keep him from accumulating fans, though. There aredozens of streams tracking his movements and identifying his most recentvictims. There’s even an amateur stream—Houndwatch—dedicatedto uncovering every tiny nugget of information about him. Fortunately for Juno,the bits of truth are indistinguishable from the mountain of misinformation.Rita has supplied quite a bit of the latter herself, borrowed mostly from a fewdozen of her favorite shows. Meanwhile she and Peter sit on files full oflegitimate information.

Juno’s blood type, for example, which Peter found in the policerecords from when Juno was a cop. Those come in handy when he sends Rita out tobuy enough for a transfusion from a local blood bank, along with fresh clothesand several rounds of the most potent antibiotics she can get her hands on.

Meanwhile Peter has to deal with the more hands-on tasks.

“Really, Juno. The sewer? What were you thinking?” Peter sighsas he strips off Juno’s clothes. He goes through the pockets, just in casethere’s anything important, and then stuffs them in a trash bag to be burntlater. There’s no saving any of them.

It’s Peter who has to deal with those tasks, of course. Ritagets squeamish enough about his visits to Valles Vicky’s; there’s no way shewould be able to handle undressing and bathing Juno, even for the most practicalof reasons. Which isn’t to say Peter isn’t bothered by any of this: he may haveseen Juno in a few dozen compromising positions, but he wishes he didn’t haveto see him this way. The laser burn on Juno’s chest is ugly and raw. He’scovered in dozens of smaller cuts and scrapes all over his body. Several ofthem show signs of infection.

It’s a miracle he’s lasted this long.

Peter washes the wounds first, disinfecting them as best he can.The sealant bandages aren’t hospital grade, but they’ll have to do. By the timeRita arrives, Juno is clean and smells like soap and ointment, rather than rawsewage. He’s laid across Peter’s bed, covered with blanket.

Even with Rita’s training,it takes a few tries to properly stick the vein and administer the IV drip.Juno starts to stir a few times during the procedure, but thankfully he doesn’twake. Rita heads home afterward; she has a shift at the HCPD in the morning,and rumors of the Hellhound’s death to spread.

When Juno wakes, he’s pretty sure he’s still dreaming.

He knows this bed. These walls. Those blackout curtains over thewindows. He knows the smell on the pillow—good shampoo and moisturizer mixed inwith exotic fragrances from distant planets.

It’s not a bad dream. Might be better if he wasn’t so tired,though.

And if he wasn’t alone.

He tries to sit up, but feels an uncomfortable tugging in hisarm. There’s a needle sticking out of him. And a tube. And an IV drip.

Maybe it’s not such a nice dream after all.

“What the hell?” he rips off the tape holding the tube againsthis skin. Before he can pull the rest of it out, the bedroom door swings open.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you didn’t take thatout.” And there he is: Rex Glass or Duke Rose or whatever the hell he’s callinghimself today, striding through the door to the bedside.

This isn’t a dream at all, is it?

“What the hell is going on here?” Juno demands. He wants tothrow the blankets off and leap to his feet, but he can’t muster the energy.God, he’s so tired.

“You’re recovering, hopefully,” the detective says. “You lostquite a bit of blood yesterday. How are you feeling?”

“Like I took a goddamn laser to the chest. What do you think?”

“Fair enough.” The detective takes a medical kit out from underthe bed and cuts off a strip of tape. “May I?”

“Oh, now you’re askingmy permission?”

“I would have asked before, Juno, but I’m afraid you wereunconscious.”

Juno wants to deny him, just out of spite. But even his slightmovements are making the needle wiggle uncomfortably under his skin. Thesensation itself isn’t nearly as terrible as the knowledge that it’s in there. “Fine,hurry up and do what you’re gonna do already. Just get it over with.”

The detective bends over his arm and tapes the tube back inplace, stilling the erratic little movements, seemingly unbothered by any ofthis, and it’s absolutely infuriating.

“You knew exactly where Iwas going to be,” Juno says. “How long have you been stalking me?”

The detective tutsgood-naturedly. “Please, Juno. Tailing.I’m a professional.”

“So this is part ofanother job?”

“…Alright, perhapsstalking is the more appropriateword.” At least he has the decency to sound embarrassed. “You’vemade quite a name for yourself, you know. TheHellhound of Hyperion City. It’s got quite a ring to it.”

“I bet it looks great on the wanted posters,” Juno saysbitterly. “So who hired you this time? The Kanagawas? The police? Don’t tell meRita can afford to pay your rates twice. Last time I checked, she doesn’t makethat kind of money.”

The detective sits on the bedside, leaning in. The expression onhis face is earnest and sincere. “Nobody’s hired me, Juno.”

He looked pretty damn sincere last time Juno was in this bed,too. That didn’t exactly turn out well for him.

“Would you knock it off already?” Juno snaps. His knees rise,forming one more barrier between the detective and himself. The short movementmakes his chest wound throb. “I’m too damn tired for this garbage, so how aboutwe skip the song and dance already. Just tell me what you’re being paid to doto me this time so I can get on with my life.”

Goddammit, does the detective really need to look at him likethat? All hurt and sorry? Juno knows he’s a good actor, but damn. “I’m not being paid to doanything, Juno. I promise you, this isn’t a job. I—“

“I said quit it!” He scoots back until his back hits theheadboard and the IV tube tugs at his arm. If he wants to get any further, he’llhave to rip out the needle. He’ll also have to go in the nude, apparently—he’snot wearing any clothes under this blanket.

“I owe you, Juno,” the detective says. “If you don’t believeanything else, believe that.” He rises from the bed and takes a few steps back,giving Juno a little bit of room to breathe. “You could have turned me over to theKanagawas at any point. It might even have saved your position among theirranks—I imagine after a hit like that, they likely couldn’t afford to losesomeone with your skills. But you didn’t, and that’s very likely why I’m stillalive. By my measure, that puts me rather deep in your debt.”

“Bullshit,” Juno mutters, but the retort has lost its teeth. Settlinga debt is something Juno understands. It’s business. It’s fair. It doesn’t hurtas much as the thought of the detective actually caring about him.

Besides, he’s exhausted.

“Shall I leave you to your rest, Juno?” the detective asksgently.

“What, you’re not gonna cuff me to the bed or something?” Junochallenges.

“Only if you ask nicely.” It’s meant to be a light bit of humor,but the joke leaves a bittersweet taste in Juno’s mouth. The detective’s too,by the look of it. “No. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But I do advisethat you wait until you finish this round of antibiotics. You’ve been fightingoff quite an infection. It may get worse if you stop treating it prematurely.”

The detective’s note should make Juno suspicious, but thethought of paying attention to one more thing saps the last of his energy. Rightnow, all he can think about is how the room is so cold, the blankets are sowarm, and the pillow smells so very nice. He just wants to sleep, dammit.

“Fine,” he mutters, curling up against the headboard, his backto the detective. It’s the gesture of a cranky child trying to dodge a nap. “I’llstay. For now.”

“That’s all I ask.” The detective retreats through the opendoor. “Sleep well, Juno.”

#the penumbra podcast #writing prompt #fanfiction #briwhosaysni

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