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coolcattime · 1 year

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heyyy coolcat! I’ve had this story concept sitting on a back burner and I’m honestly not sure if I’ll ever get around to writing it but who knows maybe. I wanted to share it with you, cause I think you’ll like it, also it's my second time sending it cause my internet is being weird

A mishap with the priest nether portal sends Mot to the nether, but Spark in an attempt to go after him now has to deal with some unforeseen consequences. (It actually sends Mot to Ruxmor but they don’t know that yet)

He’s not sure where he’s standing, if he’s standing at all. Equal parts dark and light. Too much yet not enough. Through the terrifyingly loud silence, there is crying. It’s so close to him and he— likes to think it’s in his nature to help out, that’s what Dagrun was built for, what it represents to him— reaches out to whoever or whatever is near him. It reaches back and

He wakes up on the other end of the portal. Swelling heat and humidity overwhelm him instantly. Netherrack and soulsand now stuck under his fingernails, which both ground him and leave him with a gross feeling.

Not long after this is when the remaining alts find out their lady ianite died. Spark having a physical reaction as it happens and Alyssa and Jeriah being told after the fact. Spark begins to act strangely, the other two chalk it up to it being grief. The longer it goes on the more they realize something is wrong with him.

Alyssa wakes up thirsty. It’s difficult for her to find the will to move from the warmth of her blanket— so nice and cozy, it’s heavy against her, she…can almost…fall…back asleep. How unfortunate that the need to drink water is much much stronger. And oh no! What if she dehydrates right then and there, who will listen to her dad’s tale of getting lost in the new nether.

Reluctant as she may be, she steps out of bed and makes her way downstairs. Bundled up in two layers of long sleeves and fuzzy pajamas pants, she takes a quiet and slow pace down the steps.

She is standing just outside of the kitchen, it’s dark and she has a hard time seeing but she recognizes Sparks figure, which is hunched over the sink, probably doing the dishes. Jeriah had told her to do them, which wasn’t even fair since it was his turn anyways. He only pushed the chore on her because he was getting old and lazy. She told him so too, he hadn’t exactly been the happiest to hear that. Denied it all the way to bedtime.

Yet here is her grandpa doing the chore in their stead. She hadn’t seen him in days, both her and Jeriah had given him space, maybe a bit selfish of her but she’s glad to see him here even if it is the dead of night. Good to know he didn’t perish in his room, it’s certainly a positive.

She walks past him and grabs a glass, pouring herself some water from a pitcher on the counter. It’s only then that Alyssa sees that there are no dishes in the sink—by the looks of it, they have been washed, dried and put away. There is only water. Spark is hunched over in the sink, elbow deep in the water. She’s pretty sure you aren’t supposed to wake a person who’s sleepwalking but she can’t tell if he’s awake or not in the first place. She knows better than most what depression can do to a person. She’s seen her dad at his worst for years now, and she’s met that pirate from Atheoria. Not someone she’ll willingly interact with again, honestly.

She knows that this is about Spark’s wife. The woman who was is now just a faint memory to Alyssa. The only Ianite she knows is the one here. She doesn’t dare tell Spark that, especially not now.

The longer it goes on the more they realize something is wrong with him...

It had started with small moments. Spark couldn’t remember how he got to the basement, or he could not recall why he opened the front door, and embarrassingly enough he had once found himself halfway over the dock railing. Now he finds himself near the huge treehouse, Jeriah standing over him axe in hand. He had pushed him into the snow trying to wrangle the axe out of Sparks hands.

The cold heat makes him sweat. The beginning symptoms of a fever, one that’s been on the verge of starting for months now. The snow both cools and burns him. It does everything to help his sense and overwhelms them all the same. There is a contradiction that lies beneath his skin and he has no cure for this new ailment of his.

“I don’t know what your lady would’ve wanted, but I doubt getting smited by another version of her is one of those things.” Jeriah stares down at him, Spark is much too out of it to decipher if it’s anger or sadness. “Why?” He sounds tired, Spark decides. Gods, how late was it?

If Spark were to be truthful he’d say he didn’t care. He felt such steep indifference for the events that were put on pause by Jeriah, he’ll be thankful for it later, but now he truly cannot find it within himself to do something as simple as care. He leaves it at an “I don’t know, Jerry, I don’t—” He’ll later fear that feeling, it’s so unlike him…

A bit more of that happens until it’s Spark himself that gets fed up with it. He reaches out again, this time with a homemade ouija board.

The pencil barely moves, she had answered yes. It had been surprisingly easy to guess whose ghost was haunting him when his only two choices were between a dead chaos god and a dead pirate captain, and he finds himself near water more often than not. Looking at his amateur setup— it’s four ripped pieces of paper each with a different response: yes, no, I don’t know, ask elsewhere. Spark had thought that giving her more answers would make conversing easier. It does not. Regardless of how childish it is they talk as best as they can, they make do.

He had asked if it was difficult to move objects and she had responded with a yes, which was strange to him seeing as she had no difficulty moving him from point a to b. Perhaps there was something he was missing. His setup reminds him of a compass, the way he had placed the responses as points and the pencil as a needle. He looks through his things and finds one. Other than some dust on the glass, it’s in perfect condition.

“Think this’ll be easier?” He moves his arm out to where he guesses she’s standing…? He doesn’t know if ghosts do that. He feels her hand over his and the needle moves much to quickly. All at once her thoughts become his. His thoughts become hers.

There is an overwhelming absence of everything and all she can do is cry.

What was meant to be a temporary house, has now imprisoned him.

Neither was able to see their mission through and now they both exist together in separate spaces, miserable.

Eventually, it will lead to Capsize getting revived, but she doesn’t remember her time in the void space or as a ghost, for the better. But it’s hard for Spark to be angry at her for the distress caused when it was some messed up version of her and not the her that’s been revived. While I do think their relationship starts out strained, I do think that they both grow to have at least a semi-positive opinion on each other. Like Spark doesn’t like Capsize’s methodology of immediately going to tnt and violence when something doesn’t go her way, but she does it with confidence and he can respect that. And Capsize thinks fishing with Spark is enjoyable.

(I named the draft “la posición de mi posesión” and i think it’s fun to say. Also this is the second time I send you such a long ask omfg, thank you for reading it <3)

My apologies, the first time you asked this it did come through. I spent my free time yesterday factory resetting my phone and then playing d&d so I kinda didn't have time to respond.

I really really like this story idea!!! I think the idea of Spark getting possessed/ haunted by Capsize is really awesome.

I really like how the situation starts because Spark reaches out to help because it really feels interesting for him to just reach out to this mysterious presence in the darkness. I think its a really telling thing for a character to do.

I love the idea of Spark having a physical reaction to his Ianite dying even when in a completely different world. And it conesiding with the haunting beginning is such a good touch cause it can be written off at first as grief when it's a bit more of a pressing issue.

The actually haunting is really cool (like all of this is really well written but I particularly like Capsize accidently sending her and Spark to the void when trying to move the compass). And I kind of love how empathic Spark is despite being possessed multiple times. I think the way you've written Spark is really fun since I don't see a lot of him in the fandom.

As always, I love anything where Capsize is revived. I kind of love the description of the relationship between Spark and Capsize you've written since it seems very natural for the two.

Also feel free to write all the long asks you want, I really like reading them ^-^

#ask #licantropa #others writing #mianite #spark conway #captain capsize #countrybat

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ghostlight-express · 1 year

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Ramble about a new OC: Celia, also spoilers for Scarlet/Violet (both major and minor)

Celia is my SV OC, she was raised in Kalos by her father but something happens and she moves to Paldea to live with her mother.

(I haven't quite decided the details of this; maybe he's her adopted father but he dies and she gets sent to live with her birth mother?)

She has a Swablu named Dreamie, but prior to moving to Paldea she didn't really battle and Dreamie was basically like a pet.

When she enrolls at the academy (I like the headcanon that it's one school but with two "houses", Celia is in the Uva house) she chooses Sprigatito as her starter and names it Petitti.

Also, Celia has narcolepsy and ADHD. She's always had issues in schooling as a result, but when she hears about the "treasure hunt" she's very interested.

When it's time for the treasure hunt, Celia is probably the happiest she's ever been. She's not confined to a "normal" schedule. She's happy to run around the country doing stuff for people (defeating the titans with Arven, taking down Team Star bases for Cassiopeia, and she figures she might as well do the pokedex and the gym challenge while she's at it, especially with Nemona's insistence lol). She has so much freedom! And she has a tendency to get distracted on her way to each city/base/titan, leading to her pokemon often being a bit overleveled when she reaches her destination.

At any rate, I'm trying to figure out the rest of Celia's team. She likes cute pokemon, especially soft/fluffy ones that would be nice to cuddle with. I'm thinking she may have picked up a Pawmi (it's cute & can give her little jolts when she needs to stay awake). Probably a Growlithe (soft & can keep her warm at night). Zorua is cute and cool and when it evolves it has a big fluffy ponytail lol. Lastly, maybe a Cetoddle? They are just so damn cute and friendly! (Plus it can help keep her cool in hot weather! Especially since she likes wearing comfy layers)

Also I imagine her to be about 16-17.

She initially finds Nemona annoying and Arven to be an ass, but they grow on her. Nemona's energy can get contagious, and Arven is actually a sweet dork, even if he is a bit prickly.

Celia had a feeling that Cassiopeia was really Penny so that reveal wasn't all that surprising (although Director Clavell did kinda throw her for a loop when he claimed to be Cassiopeia).

In the crater, she figured that in the research stations it was just an AI talking, but not that Professor Turo had actually died years prior and everything since then was the AI. Her first thought after that reveal was "shit, how am I supposed to explain that to Arven". She just recently lost her own dad, and even though Arven acted pretty jaded about his father, she didn't want to have to be the one to break the news that his father's be distant because he's actually dead. (Thankfully she didn't have to do it herself, but that whole situation was still sucky to be in). Also I keep thinking of calling Arven & Celia the "Dead Dad Duo"

#ramble #celia

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blooblooded · 9 months

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Tony Reunites with Cihad

After the first night of being back in Eden, Tony had already decided to find Cihad Tariq.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Casey asked him nervously, watching him get ready in the safehouse’s small bathroom that morning. It was early, 6:30 am. Early was good. Cihad woke up early to exercise and calm his mind. It would be best to catch him before he went to work and exhausted himself. “Dad says that most of the CCTVs are malfunctioning, but there’s still a chance you could be seen. And, uh, have you forgotten all about how that guy freaked out on you the day he came to take the Book back from Kassidy? Or how he tried to drag the truck back the day we left Eden? He was pissed. Beyond pissed.”

Over the last two years, Casey had grown into a natural leader. Of course she was worried about him. She didn’t understand Cihad like he did, she only saw him as a threat. There was no reason for her to see him as anything but a threat after everything they had witnessed, everything they had learned. Tony shook his head. He finished shaving, then splashed water on his face. He felt like he looked presentable, despite how fear and struggle had aged him. His long black hair hung down to his shoulders and he did not tie it back the way he used to. “Did your Dad bring us any aftershave when he picked up supplies?”

Casey’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, no. I don’t think he imagined you or Marty were gonna go try to get some dick. And you didn’t answer my question. Are you sure it’s a good idea to go see the man who brought the Book to Eden? I still think he’s working for it. Nothing we learned in the North proves otherwise.”

“He’s not working for it,” said Tony. “He’s a good man and he’s been raising my daughter. I have to talk to him before I try to come back into her life.”

Try to come back into her life a second time. Cynthia was 15 years old now. The first time he had abandoned her, out of paranoid delusions and a half-pickled brain, he didn’t see her again until she was 6. The 4 years he spent back in her life, together with Cathy and Cihad, had been the happiest he had ever been. Then Cathy had died and everything went wrong. For 2 years he hid in the sewers, out of his mind, living with rats. He never thought he would ever see her again.

He still might never see her again. Cihad might not let him. And even if he did, even if he did let him, Cynthia might not want him back in her life. He wouldn’t want that, if he was her.

That was out of his control. The first part of the Serenity Prayer was all about accepting the things he could not change. If reuniting with his family was not an option, he would just have to accept that, and focus on the things within his control.

Tony looked at himself in the mirror. He had chosen a green shirt because green was Cihad’s favorite color on him. Or, it had been once.

What was he doing? Cihad had probably moved on a long time ago. He was probably seeing someone else, someone better than him. Of course he hadn’t waited, and it wasn’t fair to expect him to have waited. It seemed almost pathetic for Tony to be preening like this, letting his hair down, thinking about aftershave. There were more important things to think about. Like the Book. Like where the essence of that demon had gone after leaving Kassidy’s body, and whether it would try to hunt him down again.

Well, Cihad deserved to know about that. Even if he never let him see Cynthia again, even if he had moved on. He deserved to know. He was involved. The strings of fate that connected the whole world, future and past, had bound them together.

“I just think that it’s a bad idea,” said Casey. She spoke quietly. Everyone else was still asleep. When Tony woke from where he slept on the couch in the living room, the smallest noises he made had alerted her. Ever since their time in the Northern Territories, she had been unable to sleep soundly. “I feel like he’s working for It. The Thing in the Book. He was the one who brought it here. If that thing is somewhere in Eden, who’s to say he doesn’t just hand your ass over to it.”

“He isn’t and he won’t.”

There was one thing that Tony was completely sure of: Cihad had once loved him. He had really loved him. No, it hadn’t started out that way. It had started as simple empathy, Cihad saw him as someone he could fix, he felt a sense of control when he was able to fix people. And Tony had liked the attention. Nobody had ever treated him with that kind of compassion, he had spent years as a homeless alcoholic. He was used to getting treated with disgust, or worse, not even seen as a person. Cihad never saw him that way. Cihad had only seen someone who needed his help. The compassion turned into lust, which turned into love.

Tony hadn’t meant to ruin it all after what happened with Cathy. He had just been so scared. Cihad had probably thought that he killed himself. The look he had got when he saw him again in the attic! That wild, frantic look! Tony felt bad. He had really hurt him but at the time, he hadn’t seen another option than run to the sewers. And then again, the second time, his only option had been to run from Eden.

Now he didn’t know what to expect. Cihad would probably be angry when he saw him again. Tony could deal with angry.

“I’ll come back,” said Tony, checking himself one more time in the mirror. He pushed some of his hair up so that it hung over his shoulders, then Looked at Casey.

She did not think he was coming back. One way or another, she believed that he was leaving. Running away again. Always running away. Tony cringed a little bit inside. He did not know how to make her believe otherwise.

He left anyway. He left, telling himself that he was coming back but not completely believing it himself.

Tony was careful as he made his way to the metro station. Logically he knew that he did not need to be so careful, he knew that he was seen as dead in the eyes of the state. There was nobody looking for him anymore or even anyone who cared. As far as he knew, the only danger he needed to worry about was not even in Eden anymore. It was probably still in the Lost Colony and would be trapped there until…until, well, he did not know.

Still, he was careful. He did not get a single look on the train. Everyone on it was just going about their lives, headed to their jobs that morning. Tony kept his eyes on his shoes.

He realized that he did not even know if Cihad still lived in the same 3 bedroom house in the Residential Mid Levels. Kassidy was the one who had given him the address, she was the only one who had actually been there. Stupid. If he showed up on some random family’s doorstep, he was going to feel like an idiot. But Cihad was a creature of habit, he was someone who needed to carefully control his environment. He would still be there. It was the place he had moved after Cathy had died. He had to still be there.

Tony got off the train. He took a deep breath of the oxygen rich air that they only seemed to pump in on the Mid and Upper Levels. The Co2 in the air where the Safehouse sat was stifling, choking, after breathing the fresh clean air outside of Eden for the last year and a half. It was funny. Tony had breathed thick, toxic air all his life. He had never felt like it was squeezing and choking him until he experienced what he was missing.

It was a short walk from the metro station to Cihad’s house but the whole time, Tony grew more and more anxious. The streets here were lined with vertical gardens to give residential homes more privacy. He looked up at the vine covered slabs of concrete, so beautiful and wrong at the same time. His heart hurt. He missed Cihad more than anything but seeing him face to face scared him more than anything too.

That wasn’t even taking into account Cynthia. Tony swallowed and almost tripped over a crack in the sidewalk because he wasn’t paying attention. A mother pushing a baby in a stroller gave him a sideways look. He ducked his head and kept walking.

The house was the same as the majority of middle-class family homes in Eden. Two stories, 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a little balcony off the back. It was built of concrete blocks in a utilitarian, brutalist fashion that didn’t lend very much to warmth. A chill went up Tony’s spine when he looked at it. He had never lived in this house. But two people he loved did. It was almost like he could feel them.

Tony’s stomach lurched like he was going to throw up. He checked the time on his phone. 7:00. Cynthia would already have left for school, since classes started at 8. There wasn’t a chance that he would run into her. That was good. He needed time to think about what he was going to say.

Was he stupid? Was he making a bad mistake? He kept telling himself that this was not only a personal visit. Cihad still had the Book and Tony needed to examine it while it was still uninhabited and powerless. If it was still uninhabited and powerless. The last time he had the Book in his hands, he had been frantic, trying to rip it to shreds himself. This time he knew better. This time he could be logical.

He looked down at his hands and saw that they were shaking. “Serenity to accept the things I cannot change,” he told himself. “Serenity to accept the things I cannot change…”

No going back now. Tony walked up to the front door, stood there for a second, then rang the bell. The last time he showed up unexpectedly on Cihad’s doorstep, he had been wasted, dying, and had thrown up on Cihad’s shoes. This was a step up. There was no way he could embarrass himself as badly as he had back then.

He still felt like he was going to throw up though.

The door opened. And there he was. Cihad was dressed in blue scrubs and white sneakers. The scrubs didn’t fit his huge body correctly, he looked like he had been poured into them. His dark curly hair and beard were neatly groomed like they always were, not a touch of gray in that hair. The second he saw him, Cihad’s red eyes became huge in his face. His expression was more shocked than it was angry or horrified. He froze and dropped the mug of tea he was holding and it shattered on his doorstep.

Tony tried to smile. “Well, I’m back,” he said sheepishly. Nonchalant. Maybe cool, or at least trying to be cool. Idiot.

“Anthony.” Cihad’s voice came out as a strangled whisper. He did not move.

“You gonna let me in so we can talk?” Tony’s own boldness shocked him. “You know, since last time I saw you, you were screaming and dragging a truck back with your mind? We have some things to talk about.”

Cihad’s eyes looked shiny. That was weird. His stupid ham-like hands clenched and unclenched. Tony wondered if Casey had been right, that Cihad was still pissed at him and whether he needed to run. God, he was stupid! It was so easy to forget that Cihad was about 150 pounds heavier than him and was an avid user of blood magic on top of his neuroelectrical abilities. If he really wanted to hurt him, it would be easy.

Wait, what was he thinking. Cihad would never hurt him. He would die before he hurt him.

As if in a trance, Cihad extended his big arms and wrapped them around Tony’s body. He didn’t even have time to struggle, he just found himself being lifted off the ground and squeezed tightly. Hugged. He was being hugged. It had been so long since anyone had actually hugged him. Tony was able to free one arm and curled it around Cihad’s back, patting him awkwardly.

“I thought you were dead,” said Cihad. His voice cracked. His face was pressed into Tony’s neck, he could feel his warm breath and the prickle of his beard hair. “How did you– I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again! You were dead and I couldn’t even talk to anyone about it!”

“Yeah, well, I have this funny way of always surviving.” Tony’s ribs were hurting. He squirmed to escape from Cihad’s grasp. Part of him liked it. Even without Looking, he could tell that Cihad still desired him after all these years. It wasn’t exactly something he could hide. The other part of him, the rodenty prey animal part of him, felt afraid. Loving someone just meant that he could lose them. “Hey– quit squeezing the merchandise, get off, get off me.”

He let him go. Cihad pushed back his wavy hair. “I’m calling off work,” he said, and stepped back into the house. “Come inside. You can come inside.”

So he wasn’t seeing anyone else. Good. It sort of scared Tony that he had this much power over him. Within three minutes of seeing him, Cihad was already calling off of work. He wondered what else he could get–

No, what was wrong with him? Tony followed Cihad inside.

The house was furnished in a simple, homey way that made sense for a single father. Tony passed a picture of Cynthia on the wall and looked away quickly. The girl in the picture was a teenager and almost recognizable to him. She had bright blue eyes and a big smile. He couldn’t look at her, not yet. There was another picture of a child Tony did not recognize and he squinted at it for a moment. This kid was also Black, maybe the same age as Cynthia, with a bright and friendly face. Where had Cihad picked up another kid?

He looked around as Cihad led him into the kitchen. “Do you still keep that thing in here?” Tony asked cautiously. He had not forgotten the little slime creature Cihad kept as a pet. It had always disturbed him that it had learned how to speak; they weren’t supposed to do that. Ever since Marty had told him about the one that was trapped in the Void, Tony had thought about the ways he could keep this one away from his daughter. “You know, that alien thing that used to sleep in the drawers?”

Cihad glanced at him. He sat down at the kitchen table. “Billy’s at school.”

Great. The fool had named it. That wasn’t ominous at all. Tony felt a chill go up his spine. “We learned a lot about those things while we were gone.”

“Where was that, exactly?” His voice was clipped. Suspicious.

“North. The Northern Territories.” He watched Cihad’s expression tighten. “We went to this place— this state or territory, I guess —called the Strath. Cassiopeia Agapama’s father was doing business with the person in charge there. We talked to her on his behalf and tried to find answers about that Book you brought into Eden.”

Cihad didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. Was he scared? He had always been so secretive about his past. At this point, Tony knew more about it than he felt he would ever be told. Was that a betrayal? Was it like going through someone’s phone for proof of cheating? He knew that Cihad did not want him to know about where he came from. Well, that was too bad.

It wasn’t his fault, but every fucked up thing that had occurred because of the Book was because Cihad brought it to Eden when he was just a kid. There was nothing any of them could do to change that.

He continued. “There was this place up there. This burnt down town. Have you heard of a place called Blagodat?”

“Stop,” said Cihad.

“That’s where you’re from, isn’t it? That’s where the Book came from.” Tony sat down across from Cihad. There were three chairs at the kitchen table. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was sitting at Cynthia’s. “The people in the North said that they killed almost everyone who lived there over 20 years ago. Not you though. You survived. And you brought that Book to Eden.”

There was an almost unbearable minute of silence. Cihad’s face was like a cold mask, all of the warmth had drained away. He didn’t want to talk about this. Of course he didn’t want to talk about this. It would be easier for Tony to just See the truth of it all instead of prying out answers like he was prying teeth.

But he wanted to give this man he cared so much about a chance.

At length, Cihad only said, “God kept me safe.”

“You know that thing isn’t a god, right? It’s just some Thing that got trapped here like all of those monsters made of black slime. Only hungrier. It’s from some other place. We’ve been learning about that too.”

“Anthony, I just—“

“You were a kid and you didn’t know any better,” said Tony, and he knew he was about to twist the knife in but was unable to help himself. “But it killed Cathy because it was trying to take her body. And now it’s trying to take mine too.”

Surprisingly, the big nurse didn’t react. Had he already known? To be exposed to the Book for as long as he had, he must have known. That in itself was sickening but Tony could almost understand. Almost. Cihad had not wanted to let go of the one thing that tied him to his childhood. He did not have anything else. It had all been ripped away from him in one night of blood and fire.

“That means Kassidy Nguyen is dead,” he said at last, with a tone of regret. “I didn’t figure it out until I saw her so sick like that. I could have done something. She was just— she was so angry, she was falling apart. I’m sorry. Her mother and I have—“

“She’s not dead but she came close,” Tony interrupted. “It would take more than some stupid alien to kill her.”

Cihad’s shoulders sagged visibly in relief. How strange. It wasn’t like he had known Kassidy. It wasn’t like he had been anything other than her supervisor at the Hospital. Tony used the Sight to take a little peek and saw the swirling truth of why he was so worried about her. There was a common string linking them. A tired little woman. Cihad had been busy for the last year and a half. Cihad had been collaborating with Kassidy’s mother. Not just collaborating, he was her friend. He cared about her. He cared about her so much that he was scared she was going to kill herself if—

No. Stop looking. It wasn’t right. He was here to talk. He was here to talk to someone he cared about like a normal fucking human. Tony shook himself.

“She’s fine,” he said lamely. “Kassidy’s fine.”

What else was he supposed to say? What were they supposed to talk about? There was so much Tony wanted to know. How was Cynthia? How was he? What had happened while he was gone? What had happened before he had gone, during those years that he was hiding with rats and out of his mind? Since Cathy had died, he had seen Cihad twice, and both of those times he had been so…so angry at him! Or angry at the situation. Scared and angry. So scared and angry.

So what now? There was no way to just pick up where they had left off. The time for that had passed years ago. Here he was, grilling Cihad and asking questions about where he came from when he already knew the answers. There were other answers he wanted. How was Cynthia? How was he?

Stupid.

They sat in uncomfortable silence. Tony became acutely aware of how his hair tickled the back of his neck. Every breath seemed to take concentration. Where was he supposed to look? Not into Cihad’s eyes, never into Cihad’s red, red eyes. It was safer to just stare down at his hands in his own lap. Tony had never been good at talking.

“I just–”

“Are you–”

They started and stopped at the same time. Cihad made a little huff of frustration. Tony grimaced awkwardly and watched the man he had once loved stand up from his chair, turn to the counter, and put the kettle on. Pulled out two mugs. God, what was his problem? He was always trying to take care of other people, it never fucking stopped.

It didn’t take long to brew the tea. Cihad poured three scoops of sugar into one of the cups. Tony’s stomach flipped. He remembered how sweet he liked his tea. It had been years and he still remembered. But for the life of him, Tony could not remember the way Cihad took his. Back when they had lived together, he had never been the one to make it.

When Cihad handed him the mug, he sipped from it without waiting for it to cool down. The taste was so…artificial. In the Strath Tony had gotten used to real tea. The stuff that they sold in Eden was a thin copycat of that, something formed in labs like everything else in this anthill. What did Cihad think of it? He had grown up outside of Eden. Did he remember the taste of real tea? Or had it been too long. Maybe his memories of his old life had faded.

“Are you living in a shelter again?” Cihad asked him.

Tony choked on his mouthful of tea. Was that really what he thought? That he was homeless again? Well, OK, on a technical level he had never stopped being homeless. On a very shameful and technical level, he had been homeless ever since the day he abandoned Cathy. But he had thought that Cihad would have understood the gravity of his situation in this moment and how his life was in danger. “No, I’m–” Maybe he shouldn’t tell him where he and the girls were staying. Not that he didn’t trust him. Tony shook his head. “I’m staying somewhere safe. I probably shouldn’t be out here now. I just wanted to see you.”

“You’re staying somewhere with Kassidy Nguyen.”

“I never said that.” Tony put his mug down. “Look, she isn’t ready to–”

“I don’t need to know.”

Oh, but you wanted to know, you enormous nosy motherfucker. Tony rubbed his face. “Look, a lot has happened. I don’t know how to begin.”

“A lot has happened here too.” Cihad crossed his arms.

Now that he understood where Cihad’s accent came from, and had heard dozens of irritating people speaking with voices that sounded just like his, it sounded a lot less sexy. The soft T’s. The musical vowels. He was so full of himself. “Yeah, I’m sure it has. I’m sure it’s been fucked, I mean, it seems more fucked here than usual, but maybe that’s because I’ve been gone so long. Everything feels off, I feel like I’m on the verge of–”

“I missed you.”

Ugh. That was not what Tony came to talk to him about. Stay focused. Don’t get drawn in. He laughed nervously. Say it back. Say it back, you piece of shit. “I, uh– you too. My life has gone to hell since the day Cathy…” he trailed off, unable to say what had happened to Cathy.

“I’ve been raising two kids by myself for years now.” Cihad was staring right at him, red, red eyes boring holes into his head. His eyelashes were so thick that it was like he was wearing mascara or something. “It hasn’t been easy. Every night I think about how different things would be if you hadn’t run away.”

Where was he getting two kids from? As far as Tony knew, there was only Cynthia. But then, what did he know? He had run away. Time to diffuse the situation. “I’m sure you haven’t been lonely. Single dad with a tragic past? Guys have probably been lining up outside your door.”

“That’s not funny, Anthony.”

Oh god. Tony prepared to dive head first into uncomfortable sincerity. “I’ve missed you too, OK? I miss you and Cynthia. I did what I thought I had to do at the time. Your fucking Book? We had to run for our lives because of that Thing. You did that. You brought it here and I know, you were a scared little kid, but you still brought it here. I had to run over and over again because of you, I didn’t want to run away, I had to run away. And I still missed you. It’s just all–”

He Saw the guilt and self hatred radiating off of Cihad. Piece of shit. Tony looked away.

“I’m sorry.”

Self righteous asshole. Tony groaned. “It’s just all fucked. We’re fucked. You and me. I didn’t come back for you. I know, I’m self aware enough to– I came back for my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” Cihad’s voice had a funny edge to it. Tony winced. “What do you mean by that? Do you think you can take her away? You don’t have custody. You never–”

“I don’t know what I mean. Goddamn!” Why was he being so defensive? Cihad had never been like that before. He knew that he could never take care of Cynthia. Not now. Not ever.

“You don’t have custody,” Cihad said again. Suddenly he was breathing hard. He seemed big and angry. “I’m her father. I’m the one who’s taken care of her. Alone. By myself. I’m tired of people telling me that they want her to take her away. I’ve got social services sticking their noses where they don’t belong, and all these threats from Si– and now you show up and you finally want her? I don’t think so.”

“Calm down.” Tony put his hands up. “What’s the matter with you? I just meant I want to make things right with her. I’m fucking homeless, man, you think I can take care of a kid?”

That took the air out of him. The silence grew between them.

This was fucked. Tony knew it. He should have waited longer to make it right. He should have prepared for what he wanted to say instead of just winging it. He was so stupid. He was stupid and he had been lonely for too long. There was a hole in his heart where his family had once been and over the years that hole had expanded.

And still, he wanted to know more. Why would social services be involved in Cihad’s life? They didn’t get involved with perfect people like him. CPS only went after families like– well, families like Tony’s. All it would take was a little peek. All it would take was the blink of an eye. But he couldn’t do that. It wasn’t right to do to someone he loved, he had to keep telling himself it wasn’t right.

Why couldn’t he just melt into the floor?

“Thanks for the tea,” he said lamely. Tony stood up. “I’ll go. I’ll just go. We can pick this up later when I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t go.”

“No, man.” He didn’t know where he was supposed to put his hands and just stood there awkwardly. “I wanted this to go well but I’m going to screw it all up again.”

“Please don’t go.”

Wasn’t that just a knife in the heart? Sweat beaded on his forehead. What was he supposed to say? Cihad was practically begging him to stay. Every instinct in Tony’s body was telling him to leave. Go home. Regroup. This was too hard. It was going to hurt too much. He wasn’t ready. He was so stupid. Everything he said was just going to piss Cihad off. There was no way to have a civilized conversation with someone like that! The more Cihad clung onto him, the more Tony wanted to push away. But he didn’t want to push away! He was just so– so!

There was a sound from the front hallway. The door opening? Tony frowned and shot a dirty look at Cihad. Fucking liar. Of course he had some kind of lover who had keys to his house. Cihad frowned back at him and mouthed something unintelligible. Tony shook his head. Cihad pointed at him. Tony made a throat slitting motion.

Hopefully it was burglars because if some little booty call walked into this kitchen, Tony was really going to lose it.

“--so annoying!” chattered a very young sounding voice. “You know she’s copying your look, right? She’s doing her eyeliner exactly like you now.”

“Yeah, well, it looks like shit,” replied an equally young girl’s voice. “It’s so childish. Bitch. I can’t stand her. Such a tryhard, she’s just, she’s like fucking jealous, you know? Yancey said people are just jealous of me.”

“Rachel’s covering for you in homeroom, right?”

“Rachel’s covering for us.”

Tony watched as Cihad’s face flushed and his eyes widened. Ah. So the delinquent apple did not fall far from the delinquent tree. He remembered this little game from his days in high school. Cynthia must be skipping class under the blissful belief that her overprotective father was safely at work and far away.

Ah.

Oh shit. He had to get out of there. Not now! Not like this! He hadn’t seen Cynthia since she was 9 years old and god knew what Cihad had told her about him! She probably thought that he was dead! The best case scenario was that she thought he was dead! What else would she think?!

There was nowhere for Tony to escape to. He was trapped in the kitchen and was totally unprepared. His body was frozen in horror.

No time. There was no time. He stood there like an idiot as he watched a girl who had grown into a person he did not recognize walk into the kitchen and freeze just like him.

So this was Cynthia at 15 years old. Her round, dark face and sturdy frame were so much like Cathy’s at that age that it was like he had gone back in time. Just like Cathy. And not at all like Cathy. This was a different girl. This girl did not wear glasses. This girl did not cover her hair. Cynthia wore jeans and a crop top, instead of the dresses her mother favored. She wore her braids tied up in pigtails that showed off her pierced ears. And her eyes– her eyes were as blue and vacant as the sky.

When she froze, she wasn’t even looking at him. She stared at Cihad like he had grown a second head.

“What are you doing here?” asked Cihad immediately. Oh, he was very angry. It was coming off him in waves.

“What are you doing here?” Cynthia shot back. She crossed her arms defensively. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school? You’re skipping again? We talked about this– Cynthia– your teachers, they will call social services if you–”

“Oh my god, it’s not that big a deal! Calm down! I didn’t feel well and I didn’t want to call you!”

Another kid edged up behind Cynthia. The kid from the photograph. They looked to be the same age as Cynthia but taller and neater. There was something unsettling about their face but Tony didn’t linger on them too long. They put their hands with black painted fingernails over their mouth. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh?” Cihad was getting red in the face now. “Uh-oh sounds right– you’re going along with your sister on this one? After everything you told me about wanting to go to school like the other kids?”

The other kid cringed. “No, Dad, I just– I don’t know.”

“You two are grounded, you’re grounded, I’m taking your phones, I’m taking–”

And then Cynthia screamed. She had finally looked at Tony. The noise she made was horrible, a wail that was equal parts pitiful and excited, like a puppy that had been locked in a cage all day. It came from the deepest parts of her. She screamed and suddenly she was launching herself at him, throwing her arms around him as tightly as she could. Cynthia pressed her face into Tony’s chest. She was sobbing.

And Tony did not know what to do. He did what he had not been able to do for years. He hugged his daughter.

Piece of shit. This was his fault. He had done this to her. In keeping her safe, he had deprived her of a father.

Cynthia wailed and wailed and sobbed and sobbed. She would not let go of him. Tony awkwardly rubbed her back. There was a lump in his throat he could not swallow and his own eye prickled but he would not let himself cry. He was the reason she was crying. He had missed her so much for so long and now he did not know what to do. He did not know how to be. It hurt too bad.

“You’re dead!” Cynthia cried, like she was a little girl instead of a teenager. “Dad told me– me– me you were– were dead! You were dead!”

Oh Cihad. He had chosen the easiest, least hurtful route. It was what he would have told her too if their places had been reversed.

What was he supposed to even say? Tony was so bad at this. He had never had a good father to model himself after. He was out of practice. It had been too long. When he tried to speak, his voice cracked. “I– I’ve got you, baby.”

Cynthia started wailing again. Words weren’t coming out anymore, just long unintelligible whines that sounded like ‘daddy’.

Not like this. This had been stupid, impulsive. Tony had needed more time to think. He had needed time to think of how to apologize even if he couldn’t make it right. Maybe it would have been easier if she was angry at him. Now all he could do was hold his little girl for the first time in so many years.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, baby.” It was all he could think to say.

The apologies would come later.

#writing

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 14) - Keep Close

Summary: The Ackles have the Padalecki’s over for dinner and let it slip that they’re engaged. Things seem to be going well but the anniversary of the accident is coming up and the reader comes up with the Ackles taking their first vacation together as a means of distracting Jensen as well reconnecting with Ray...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of sex, mention of a dead parent/spouse, anxiety

A/N: Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

“I’m stuffed,” said Jensen that night, the kids running around playing soccer in the yard after dinner.

“I need that chicken recipe,” said Jared.

“I’ll write it down for you guys,” you said, sitting back in your chair. “You can do it with breast too if you like that better.”

“I want exactly this like, everyday from now on,” said Jared. Gen rolled her eyes and Jensen pulled out his phone. “Want me to take a pic?”

“I don’t need your freakishly long arms just yet,” chuckled Jensen. He turned around and took one of the four of you at the table before handing off his phone. “Mind getting one of us?”

“Your mom harassing you for engagement photos already?” asked Gen.

“By the time we were leaving they were both asking for photos and being obnoxious. Better than they were though,” said Jensen, smiling beside you. Jared took a few more and handed the phone back.

“I still can’t believe your parents would act like that,” said Gen. “I mean obviously I’m super happy it got fixed but that’s so unlike them.”

“They made a mistake is all,” you said with a smile. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m going to finish this beer in the pool.”

“I think I’ll join you,” said Jared. He stood up and had a look on his face you caught too late. Before you knew it he had you picked up and was jogging over to the deep end and jumping in with you.

“Jared!” you said when you popped up. He giggled and swam off to the shallow end. “After I helped pick up the plates ya big lug.”

“We got it,” said Jensen, carrying over two beer cans and handing them to you. “We’ll join you guys in a few.”

About ten minutes later Jensen was leaning against the side of the pool in his bright red swim trunks, handing you the other half of his cookie cake piece.

“So any big plans for the wedding?” asked Jared, sat on the pool steps with Gen.

“I have a thought,” you said, turning to Jensen. “I haven’t discussed it with Jensen yet.”

“Vegas. Shotgun wedding,” he laughed. You shook your head and he grinned. “You’re thinking the farm, aren’t you.”

“What do you think? It could be outdoor or indoor, whatever it needs to be depending on the weather.”

“I’d love that,” he said, giving you a squeeze. “That’d be perfect for us.”

“You own a farm?” asked Jared.

“Yeah, ten minutes from the brewery.”

“Dudes. You can open bar with your own beer. Oh and dibs on being a groomsmen.”

“Like that wasn’t gonna happen,” said Jensen.

“I don’t know on that,” you said. Jared’s face fell and you shook your head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that you wouldn’t be one. Of course you would. I just don’t have a lot of close girlfriends. I think it’d be weird if Jensen had a ton and…”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” said Gen. “We didn’t have an even number at our wedding.”

“We got time to figure that stuff out,” said Jensen, holding your waist. You finished the last bite of cookie and hummed.

“So you two having a kid?” asked Jared. Gen whacked his chest and he shrugged.

“Jesus, Jare. Don’t ask that.”

“They’re our best friends and godparents to our children...although I guess Y/N didn’t know that she inherited that until now but come on, I know you’re wondering too.”

“Shut up,” said Gen, crossing her arms. “Obviously if they decide, they’ll tell us when it happens.”

“Yeah, I think there’ll be at least one,” you laughed. Gen lit up and turned to Jared.

“Last time they said they were having a baby guess what we did? I can’t handle no more babies,” said Jared.

“Can you even get that thing up anymore?” teased Jensen, sipping on his beer.

“You’re one to talk, old man.”

“That shit still works just fine.”

“Just fine?” shot back Jared.

“Oh my God. You’re both good at sex. Y/N be grateful you’ve missed this same conversation over and over for the past sixteen odd years,” said Gen.

“I’m still taller,” said Jared with a smirk.

“I can last longer,” said Jensen with one of his own. They narrowed their eyes at one another and Jared stood up.

“Go wrestle on the grass,” groaned Gen. They both huffed and got out of the pool before starting to playfully wrestle. “See, what you may not realize yet is you have another child right there.”

“Yeah but he’s hot,” you said, Gen laughing while you sat beside her. “Do you guys really talk about sex with each other?”

“Yes and no. The boys are you know, boys. They’d combust if they didn’t tease each other. I wouldn’t say there’s like, intimate details or anything ever shared. They’re both pretty private about that sort of thing. Dee and I would talk but more so say we had fun the night before. Shit we probably talked about sex toys more than anything.”

You stopped mid sip of your beer and she laughed.

“When your guy is thousands of miles away for that long out of the year, you gotta get off on your own. You get pretty good at phone sex too. You’re lucky. Jensen won’t be staying away so long ever again he said.”

“No, no. But uh...before Jensen I’d had the same boyfriend forever and he was as vanilla as could be. We didn’t do that stuff really together.”

“I can text you some links to stuff. It’s not like you have to go in some scary store or anything. It’s discrete and I think a small vibe would be great to start with. You can use it during sex or foreplay or whatever. Just you know, have fun.”

“Jensen and I kinda got busted by the cops a week or so back for...activities in the backseat,” you said. She started to laugh and you groaned. “Thankfully it was his friend that caught us so he let us off the hook but...it was kinda fun.”

“Good,” she said, sighing as Jensen pinned Jared down. “Hey so yeah about that wedding thing. Jared had two more groomsmen than I had girls. It doesn’t have to be matchy, matchy, you know?”

“I know. I don’t know if…” you trailed off. “I lost my friend group when I broke it off with my last boyfriend. We’d been together for over ten years and I kept turning down his proposals and they didn’t like that. I have some nanny friends but not a lot and no one I’m really close to. I don’t know if I’d even get more than five people to come for me. Everyone else is his family and friends and I didn’t think about that until just now. I mean what would they think, seeing that? I don’t know if I even want anyone there now.”

“I think what they’d see is someone they care about marrying someone he loves. Just because we’re Jensen’s friends doesn’t mean we’re not your friends too. I know we’re still getting to know each other but we’ll be as close as those two eventually. Ruthie was texting me and we’re having a girls night the next convention in Dallas. You literally have a built in crew ready to go from the show, the girls and the guys. You are so coming with me to the next night I have with my local girlfriends and you got our family. You even got Dee’s parents. You have more than you know, sweetie.”

“I never had a best friend growing up except for my mom. Until Jensen,” you said. “I’ve never really been good at the friend thing.”

“Were you bullied in school?” she asked quietly.

“Don’t tell anyone besides Jared but my dad wasn’t a good person. He hurt me and so I was afraid of getting in trouble so I didn’t talk to other kids all that much until I got old enough to understand what he was doing was wrong and that’s how I ended up being adopted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Can’t do anything about it now. But I can have it not control my life too. I’ve been pretty good since I was nine in that department. My mom dying sucked and things have been up and down but I like where I am now. This is easily the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Jens’s not perfect.”

“I know. But he’s good enough. He gave me a certain confidence to live my life, like really live it.”

“He’s alright,” she smiled. “You know I have an idea about this bridesmaids thing you might like.”

“You?”

“Oh I would for sure but I meant more so I know two little girls that wouldn’t mind. Maybe there’s a boy too,” she said.

“I’m gonna need you to be my wedding planner at this rate,” you said.

“Job accepted,” she said. “I say we go farmhouse modern style.”

“Gen. I got engaged like two weeks ago. We have time,” you said. “We don’t even have a date.”

“At the very least can we go dress shopping?” she asked.

“I’m going to regret this,” you sighed as Jensen stepped back in the water.

“Get yourself a stronger man, Padalecki. That one is weak,” he said. Jared followed him right after and went to tackle him when Gen caught his arm.

“Boys, not in the water,” she said.

“Chicken?” asked Jensen.

“Losers pick up the tab for when we go out this weekend for dinner. Deal?” asked Jared.

“Well in that case, you’re on.”

Two Weeks Later

“Jensen,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair while he absentmindedly burnt some eggs. “You okay babe?”

“Yeah. We ought to pack up the kids, get on the road soon if we’re gonna hit the beach.”

“I’m gonna drive, okay?” you asked. He nodded and you got out the eggs again, making up a new batch. “Do you want to talk to Ray?”

“Why?” he asked quietly, leaning back against the counter.

“Anniversaries of traumatic events can be triggering,” you said. “My mom died two days ago. Well, you know what I mean.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“Because it doesn’t trigger me anymore. But it did and this is the first time...the first one is the roughest.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I ought to talk to him.”

“Eat your breakfast. I’ll give him a call and get the kids ready while you guys talk, okay?” you said.

“Thank you,” he said. You kissed his cheek and hugged him before you went upstairs for your phone. It rang a few times but Ray finally answered, noise in the background.

“Y/N. Everything alright?” he asked.

“Hey. Yeah. We’re...we’re pretty good. Today’s the first anniversary of Jensen’s-”

“Ah. I understand.”

“Listen, I know it’s a Sunday and you don’t work the weekends but would you mind talking to him for a few minutes? We’re going down to Galveston for the week in a bit but he’s off this morning.”

“I’d talk to him even if he wasn’t your fiance but especially because of that. You know we’re actually down here ourselves for a few days. Just got down yesterday. If you guys are around...maybe we could get together for that swim.”

“I’d like that. You okay?” you asked.

“I always get a little down on the day but Sarah understands. You understand.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna put Jensen on and um, maybe we can meet at Arillo’s for dinner?”

“We got a reservation there ourselves tonight. How many in your crew? Five? I’ll call and ask for an update.”

“Yeah there’s five of us. Um, Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for being so horrible as a teenager after mom. You loved her as much as I did.”

“Thank you but you don’t have to apologize for that. You got too much pain in your life. I’m glad you found the good stuff too.”

“Are Geroge and Taylor there?” you asked.

“Yeah kids are here. Taylor’s got some internship but she does it online half the day and George is some research assistant thing for one of his professors but same kinda deal. We leave them to work in the morning while Sarah and I have some fun. Want me to let them know you’re coming?”

“Probably a good idea. Not sure how they’ll react,” you said, Jensen poking his head into the bedroom. “Here’s Jensen.”

“Okay, sweetie. We’ll see you guys soon.”

You handed the phone to Jensen and finished up packing while he sat on the bed. You tried to leave him be but couldn’t help listening in.

“Yeah I’m anxious...I don’t want her to drive down today...you know why...I guess...probably...I don’t want to be freaking out for three hours in the car...because it’s today...I know...I know...so I have to suck it up...I don’t want to have a panic attack in the car with the kids...no I haven’t...I’m scared I will though...yeah...I understand...dude that sounds so stupid...that’s not medically anything...no I don’t have my doctorate...I don’t wanna ask her...I said I don’t want to, not that I wouldn’t...I know...I will...maybe I’ll try that too...yeah, Y/N said the first year is the roughest too...I’ll let her be in charge until we get down to the beach today. I think I’ll feel better after the car...yeah I kinda figured out what she was doing planning a trip on today of all days...I need it...really? Yeah, I’m looking forward to meeting up down there too...thanks Ray.”

You finished with your suitcase and had his open for him when he walked into the closet. He swallowed and handed your phone back.

“All good?” you asked.

“Ray thought it might be a good idea if I had something of yours with me on the way down, to keep on me since I’m...anxious this morning about being in a car.”

“Something of mine…” you said, looking at your side of the closet. “Why don’t you pack up and I’ll get you something before the road, okay?”

He nodded and twenty minutes and about three bathroom trips later the SUV was packed up. You hopped behind the wheel, Jensen tapping the arm rest from the passenger seat.

“Here,” you said, reaching into your pocket, pulling out a bracelet. It was fabric, the kind made from craft string, white, rusty orange and a light tan color mixed together.

“I’ve never seen this,” he said as he held it between his fingers.

“I got it on vacation with mom and Ray. Last one we went on,” you said, tying it around his wrist. “You have it.”

He stared at you as you turned the engine on, watching you backout.

“This is too important for me to take,” he said quietly.

“It’s fabric. I want you to have it, okay?” you said, pulling onto the street and closing the gate. He nodded and you turned the radio on low. “Coffee run?”

“Yeah. Coffee sounds good right about now.”

You were only about fifteen or so minutes away from the beach house you’d rented. The kids were either taking naps in the backseats or watching a movie on the ipad. You risked a glance at Jensen, his fingers absently toying with the bracelet while he looked out the window, the radio on low.

“How you doing big guy?” you asked as you pulled off to the exit ramp.

“Pretty good now,” he said softly.

“Mind navigating for me?” you asked. He hummed and picked up your phone from where it sat in the console the past few hours. About twenty minutes or so you were stretching outside of the car, Jensen opening the front door of the house with the code you’d been given. The kids climbed out and were good about each taking their own backpacks while you and Jensen gathered up the rest.

“Come here,” he said, leaving the bags by his feet and kissing you against the side of the car. You grinned and he picked you up in a big squeezing hug. “I love you.”

“I know,” you said. He set you down and kissed you again. “You seem like yourself again.”

“I needed that push, get over that fear. But now, I can enjoy my day with my girl and my kiddos and apparently we are having dinner with Ray and his family tonight?” he asked.

“If that’s alright,” you said.

“One hundred percent,” he said, Arrow jumping up and down nearby. “Honey, go use the bathroom in the house if you have to go.”

“No I’m excited!” she said. “Can we go play on the beach? Pretty please?”

“Hm, give daddy fifteen minutes and then we can go?” he asked. She turned to you and grinned.

“We’ll go really soon sweetie. I promise.”

“Hey guys,” said Jensen an hour later, the five of you down on the beach and mostly watching them build a sandcastle together. “Y/N and I want to tell you something.”

“Is it that you guys are getting married?” asked JJ, patting some sand with her shovel. You glanced at Jensen and he shrugged. “You were talking to Aunt Gen and Uncle Jared about it last night, right?”

“Well, yes we were,” said Jensen. “I suppose we were a little louder than we thought. But yes, Y/N and I have decided to get married. We’re not sure when exactly but in the next year I can say.”

“So we have a mom again?” asked Arrow, fixing her corner of the castle that kept caving in.

“Well you guys are kinda lucky. You’ll get two moms,” he said. “How’s that sound?”

“We missed mom’s day,” she said with a sigh. “Right?”

“We’ll catch it next year, promise,” said Jensen. “Do you guys have any questions or anything you want to say?”

“Do we call you mom now?” asked JJ.

“You guys call me whatever you want,” you said.

“Can we call you mom?” she asked. You nodded and she went back to playing in the sand.

“Anything else guys?” asked Jensen.

“Can I get a giraffe?” asked Zeppelin while he figured out how much water to add to the sand to get it to stick together.

“No sweetie. They wouldn’t fit at our house,” said Jensen.

“Darn it,” he said.

“I can tell you’re all so invested in this topic,” chuckled Jensen.

“Oh! Can my flower girl dress be purple?” asked JJ.

“Your dress can be whatever color you want it to be,” you said.

“Awesome,” she said. “Or black and purple. With lightning stripes.”

“Ah, I knew the classic rock would finally pay off,” said Jensen.

“Maybe Daddy’s suit can be black and white stripes, like a tiger,” you said.

“Like a White Snake music video more like it,” he laughed. “We’ll figure all that stuff out. We wanted to make sure you guys knew was all and if you have any questions or were nervous or anything you know you can ask either one of us.”

“Mom makes you happy again. Of course you gotta marry her!” said Arrow. “Oh and get her a pony. Girls like that.”

“Would you care for a pony, sweetheart?” asked Jensen as he shook his head.

“Are we talking mustang kind of pony?” you asked.

“That’s my girl,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, kissing your cheek. “Let dad get a picture of you guys. We’re on vacation after all.”

Five Hours Later

“Jensen,” you said, changing into a light summer top and a pair of denim shorts after your shower. He was standing by his suitcase undressed, trailing his finger over his scar. “Honey?”

“A year ago was the worst day of my life and today was a really great one. I get to meet Ray more and even Sarah and the kids who all sound great and...I’m really happy I’m still here to see all this.”

“Me too,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “Wear your red underwear.”

“Is that a request?”

“I like how you look when you take it off,” you said, gently smacking his ass as you went to go fix your hair.

“I am so grateful I found you,” he said to himself. You smiled and brushed your teeth quickly before checking yourself over and taking a selfie. You sat up on the counter and opened instagram, still silently grateful you’d always had it on private. There was nothing bad on it but Jensen and Jared had tagged you before and all of the comments always seemed to be negative.

“How do I look?” asked Jensen, walking in wearing a short sleeve navy button down and his red underwear.

“So sexy,” you giggled, Jensen digging through his other bag and finding his khaki shorts.

“Can I get away with sneakers and a backwards baseball cap at this restaurant?” he asked.

“Totally. We always eat outside. It’s near the pier,” you said, putting up your post.

“Taking more pictures I can show off of you again?” he asked, grabbing your brush and getting some control of his damp hair back.

“Nobody even sees my instagram hardly,” you said.

“You know the internet knows we’re dating, right.”

“I’m pretty sure your fans still aren’t okay with that fact, even if they know.”

“Oh you’re mistaking the nutjobs for actual fans. The real ones, those guys are cool and nice. I actually got a lot of care packages and things from them last year. Still do. They really are good people. Those other ones that leave nasty comments? Fuck them. That shit don’t bother me anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying family and friends know. Can I show off the woman I love to the world?” You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in front of you, his head cocking.

“Yeah,” you said. “Better late than never.”

“Okay,” he said. “For now though, I’m looking forward to this dinner.”

“I hope it goes well. It’s George and Taylor I’m more worried about. They were kids when I decided to stop coming around. I only knew them maybe two years, if even that. I know they were upset.”

“Give them some credit. Ray raised them too after all.”

“I’m all set!” said Zeppelin, walking into the bathroom with his paw patrol shirt and nothing else on.

“At least I was gonna wear underwear,” chuckled Jensen. “Little dude. Get some undies on and shorts in the next two minutes or else…” he trailed off as he came in and hugged Jensen’s leg.

“I love you, daddy,” he said.

“I love you.”

“Can we get a giraffe now?” he asked. Jensen rolled his eyes and you released him.

“Let’s go finish getting you dressed, buddy.”

“So you guys were Sarah’s fosters?” asked Jensen towards the end of dinner, all three kids passed out asleep in the stroller or on the bench besides you while you picked at your shared dessert. Neither George or Taylor had said much aside from introducing themselves.

“Guys,” said Ray, nudging Taylor. “I’m sorry for our children’s rudeness. I was afraid of this.”

“Shut up,” they both said, Sarah sighing.

“The kids were both big fans of Supernatural. They grew up watching it with me. It was something we bonded over at first in fact,” she said.

“Oh,” said Jensen, a smirk forming on his face. “Sam or Dean girls? George come on buddy, it’s okay.”

“This isn’t happening,” said Taylor, her eyes squeezed shut.

“So you guys don’t want to hear about the movie, gotcha,” he said, both of them snapping their heads up.

“He really is a dork,” you said.

“Movie?” asked George.

“Someday. You can count on it,” said Jensen. “Maybe I’ll go easy on you guys and ask what mom was?”

“You boys are a little young for my tastes but honestly the guy who played John was very attractive,” she said.

“Even I’d hit that,” said Ray, Sarah laughing to herself.

“You can see Ray wins his ladies over with his charm,” you said, glancing at Taylor and George. “Like you guys could literally ask anything you ever wanted about the show and get an unfiltered answer if you want.”

“Did you really keep the car?” asked George. Jensen nodded and held up his finger.

“When we’re back in town, you guys come over and you can take a spin in it,” he said.

“Okay, he’s cool with me,” said George. You cocked your head and he smiled. “That was the car from the show I always told you about.”

“Oh. I thought you were talking about batman or something,” you said, pursing your lips. “Sorry I wasn’t…”

“You always sucked at pretending to be happy,” said Taylor. You looked down and nodded. “We get it. You had to do your own thing.”

“Don’t hate me for leaving?”

“Maybe when we were little,” she said. “But we’re older and we get that you probably felt like a fifth wheel.”

“Yeah. A lot really,” you said. “It worked out though.”

“She’s a Dean girl by the way,” said Ray, cracking up as Taylor whacked his arm.

“Dad! Oh my God no I’m not! I like Sam!” she said.

“Want to talk to him?” grinned Jensen. Her face went red and you heard a quiet chuckle at the table. “You’re right, we’ll save that for in person.”

“You basically are marrying Dean Winchester without like, the trauma,” she said. Jensen tensed up but kept a smile on his face. You knew Ray caught it when he gave him a simple nod.

“Trauma’s not inherently bad,” said Ray. “Everyone at this table has gone through some.”

“I know, dad,” she said quietly. She looked at George and he nodded. “Our parents were in a house fire. So were we. I was five and Georgie was four.”

“She carried him out and went next door for help,” you said.

“I was in a car accident last year,” said Jensen. You turned your head. It wasn’t public knowledge that he was in the car. He’d flat out told you that aside from family and a few friends, no one besides you knew. “I almost died. My wife did but for other reasons. You can still have trauma and a really good life.”

“Very good point, Jensen,” said Ray. “You two rugrats wouldn’t be around if mom and I had moped around in our misery forever.”

“Was he always such a sap?” asked George.

“From the day I met him,” you said, Jensen grabbing your hand under the table. “Would you mind watching the kids for a second?”

“Not at all,” he said. You excused yourself and brought Jensen along with you, walking out to the beach area, the breeze cool but light.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. I can talk about it now. I went from having the worst year of my life to one of the best. Nothing bad’s gonna happen for saying what really happened. I want to let all that shit go and have the rest of that really good life I was talking about.”

“For someone who keeps a lot inside I sure have noticed a difference in you the past few weeks.”

“To quote both of the loves of my life, I gotta let that shit out more regularly,” he said. You smiled and wrapped your arms over his shoulders, giving him a kiss.

“You know that’s what we call growth, babe.”

“I very easily could have gone the opposite way this year.”

“But you didn’t, cause you tried even though it sucks sometimes. I love you but I extra love happy you and you’re definitely a happier guy now than when I met you.”

“So are you, honey,” he said. “Must make a pretty good team or something.”

“Oh yeah, maybe that’s it.”

“We should honestly get like, married or something, you know?” he teased.

“First I have to know though, are you willing to do cookie cake for a wedding cake?”

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice,” he said. “The real questions is, are you willing to deal with the eventual dad bod that will happen as a result?”

“I love this bod, but I don’t love you for this bod,” you said.

“Thank you for today,” he said softly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said. He grinned and kissed your cheek, hugging you tightly. “What are best friends for?”

“Everything?”

“Hell yeah they are Ackles.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 15 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen series #jensen x reader #rpf #rpf series #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic

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nobutfredweasleytho · 3 years

Text

YOU JUST DON’T LISTEN(F.W)

Summary: Fred’s ex girlfriend writes him a letter to explain the how him using her wrecked her emotionally.

Warnings: angst, like a lot of angst, depressed Y/N, mentions of self doubt, a little swearing, mentions of parents not loving correctly, used reader. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Major thank you to Gabriella @onlyfreds for being an amazing person and encouraging me to write whatever this mess is. I am forever grateful to you

(The font is terrible Im sorry im just getting used to working on tumblr)

Fred Weasley checked the muggle clock on his nightstand. 10:30 AM. His mom will call him for breakfast anytime now. He has been awake for quite some time if he can even count the 30 minutes he tried to sleep but couldn’t, not when every time he tries to close his eyes his mind and eventually dreams are clouded by her. By the last time he looked at her, how devastated she looked, How her face was wet from her tears and her eyes bloodshot red, but the thing Fred will never be able to forget is her voice. How raw and vulnerable she sounded while saying the most horrible thing’s anyone has ever said to him, but he can’t blame her, he has no one to blame but himself because in the end it was he who caused all of this and now its come to bite him in the ass. He hears the door open and his twin brother George enters.

“Mom says breakfast is ready and she wants you downstairs. She says she’ll drag you herself if you don’t show up again today.”

“Tell her I’m not hungry and I’ll come grab a bite later.” I really don’t feel like being surrounded by other people right now. Not in this pathetic state I’m in. Besides it will take me willpower I don’t have to not hex Ron into oblivion.

“Well she will not take no for an answer and I wont either. What’s done is done now and you’ll have to face the world someday so start with your own family because everyone down there is worried sick about you and the least you can do is show your face once in a while so they know you haven’t died of starvation or sleep deprivation.” George has worry written all over him and I’m sure the rest of the family has it too. I feel even more like shit for worrying them.

“Fine. But I come back here if she is mentioned are we clear?”

“We weren’t gonna mention Y/N anyway now lets go moms worried sick for your dumbass.”

Breakfast was going smoothly with Ginny and Ron being exited for Quidditch season, Harry and Bill discussing the unfortunate events of the Triwizard tournament last year, dad asking Hermione about a rubber duck whatever that is, but the most shocking thing is mom asking me and George about the joke shop products. George is doing most of the talking but still the fact that shes even asking is awesome. I was finally feeling peaceful this whole winter break until I heard a hoot outside the window.

“I thought it was Tuesday but since mail is here does it mean its Friday already? Oh how fast time is going.

“No Arthur honey you are right it is Tuesday, Bill or George can one of you see if that owl has the owners name attached to it and bring whatever letter he has here to see who is it for.”

Bill got up from his seat and went to the window next to the countertop to look at the mystery owl. “Do we even know a Y/N Y/L/N?”

The room went quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the owls hoot asking for its treat. Bill seemed not to realise this as he took the letter from the owl, gave him a treat and sent it on its way.

“To Fred Weasley from Y/N Y/L/N… Who’s Y/N is she the girl you’ve been crying over this whole time huh Freddie?” Bill chuckled but I just grabbed the letter. I had no time to even be mad at him because once again my mind fogs up with only her. I couldn’t help but feel relieved and the happiest I felt in a long time. She has forgiven me. Y/N forgave me. That has to be it. Why else would she send me a letter?

“I had a great time with you guys but there’s important matters for me to attend so I have to go to now. Thanks mom the breakfast was amazing as always.” And with that I sprinted towards my room, locked the door and examined the letter in my hands. It was a bunch of them in here. I went to mine and George’s worktable threw some papers that were on top of it to make room for these letters and carefully opened the envelope.

The first thing that I grabbed was a photo. It was a polaroid of me and Y/N on the Gryffindor common room. Happiness filled my heart when I started remembering this night. I looked at the back of the polaroid and surely enough there was a writing on it.

Fred and Yn on the Gryffindor common room at 1 AM the night she turned 17. Listening to ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”. Picture taken by major 3rd wheel George Weasley.

Tears filled my eyes when I remember this night. It was the night I looked at her the way I always should have. Not as a replacement of someone who didn’t care about me.

The next one was also a polaroid photograph but this one I don’t remember being taken. It’s a picture of Y/N teaching me how to play the guitar. I can make up that we are in her dorm but not more as the picture is taken in black and white. I look at the back and surely this one also has a writing on it but the handwriting doesn’t look familiar at all.

A drunken Y/N accompanied by a even drunker Fred trying to play the guitar in the middle of the night. If I fail my charms exam tomorrow I’m killing you both but right now you two look adorable. Picture taken by Cho Chang.

The third one is an actual letter. I chuckle looking at the handwriting. Always so precise and not even one line out of place. I always thought Y/Ns handwriting always contradicts her hot headed persona but it’s actually really cute. I start reading the letter and my heart stops.

Dear Freddie,

I can only imagine the shock that receiving a letter from me would cause you right now especially after our last conversation.

But I have a lot to get off of my chest and I wont be able to move on if I haven’t said it all. Call me a coward but I was really scared to ask you to meet me so I can say it in person, but maybe that’s what I have always been. A coward. A coward because I get scared when someone wants to enter my life, a coward because I hate trying new things at the expense of failing, a coward because I should be able to confront people who brought darkness and sadness to my life.

But one thing I will admit Fred Weasley is that I wasn’t a coward when It came to loving you. It was the first time that I let someone come into my life and heart the way you did, and it will probably be the last. Throughout our “relationship” if you can even call it that as it was more of you customizing me to be her, to be someone I’m not. But that’s why you even talked to me is it, because I reminded you of her.

The signs were right in front of me and I feel stupid enough not to have seen them. But I guess people are right when they say love is blind. Love is such a funny thing to me as the first time I experienced the right kind of love was through you. But that was me creating stuff in my head. You didn’t love me no, you loved the idea of me. But I loved you. I loved you more than anything or anyone I have ever loved, I loved everything about you. But you just don’t listen. You don’t listen to anyone around you. Not George, not your other siblings, not Lee or any of your other friends for that matter, not your professors, but most importantly you don’t listen to me.

You didn’t listen when I told you that the love my parents gave me was only because I reminded them of my brother, the love my old friends back home gave me was one of interest. Everywhere I go no matter who I talk to no one will love me for me. I came to accept that until I met you.

You were funny and crazy and brave and oh so gorgeous. You were basically everything I looked for in… well everything. In a friend or in a partner it doesn’t matter. I thought you saw me for who I am. A broken teenager with issues but that at the end of the day was deserving of love. Oh how wrong I have been but no more wrong than you. You knew this but you just didn’t listen.

That makes us both horrible people now does it. Me who thought you were some kind of savior or some kind of saint and selfishly wrapped myself around your love and you who used me because I remind you of your ex girlfriend who broke your heart. But mine is excused I feel like and yours isn’t.

You would have kept me going for who knows how long just so you can live your imaginations you had for someone else.

Did you think about her the first time we slept together?

Was I not enough for you Freddie?

Was I too clingy too soon?

Is it my hot temper that gets the best of me?

So many questions will be left unanswered on my end because frankly, I never want to speak of you again. Sure I am deprived of love but I will not take it if its not directed directly at me.

I still care about you and will continue to support you and George on whatever you set your mind into. I was waking through Diagon Alley last week and saw this little store with a “for sale” sign. It’s right in the middle of Diagon Alley. I hate how my first thought went that you would have loved it but I seem to do that a lot recently.

I’ll get dressed and think would Fred love this skirt or this shirt.

I start applying lipstick and I’ll think will Fred love this color.

I start eating and I’ll think does this look good enough that Fred would’ve stolen a piece of it when I’m talking to Ginny.

I don’t even know why I am telling you this. How pathetic I’ve become clinging into someone that doesn’t want me.

Anyway I’ve probably bored you enough with my ranting but I wouldn’t have been able to move on unless I said everything that felt heavy on my heart. I also attached some photos I thought you’d like to keep seeing as now you can see yourself with Kayla without having the burden to be near me.

Say hi to your siblings and Harry for me.

Have a nice life,

Y/N

#harry potter #fred x y/n #fred weasley series #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley angst #george weasley #hogwarts #fred and goerge weasley #weasley family #sadnees #i hate this

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 years

Text

Going Back Home

Summary: Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Claire Beck

wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings: more or less unplanned pregnancy, break up, mentions of sexual encounters

A/N: I am a weak weak person so here it is, a chaptered fic. I will try to update this weekly, but no promises. Rating will go up later. I'm attempting slow burn. Let's see how slow lol Let me know what you think. Reblogs are, as always, appreciated 💙

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

Even Though most of her happiest memories were connected with this town, the town she spent most of her life in, Claire never thought she actually would be back here. And certainly not pregnant and all by herself.

It wasn’t that she had been unhappy here. Claire just always wanted something… bigger. Something more. Something exciting. After her parents died and most of her friends moved away, there was nothing holding her back. Well, that wasn’t true. Frankie and Santiago were there. But only when they weren’t overseas or god knows where, which left her with her dream of being a journalist in a small town where she had no chance to ever make it.

She still remembered Santi’s face when she announced that it was her turn to leave just before they were about to be gone for months again. She had gotten a job in New York and thought for days about what to do until she took the job. That was eight years ago and they hadn’t seen each other in person since then.

Yet when she called Frankie three days ago in tears, it was like no time had passed. She wanted to call Santiago first, but she knew him. If she had told him what happened to her he would have gotten into his car and gotten to her, no matter if it took 3 straight days. No, she had called Frankie. He had listened to her for hours until he made her promise to book the next flight out.

When the fuck did her life become such a shit show?

Only a week ago, she had the dream job, was engaged and 5 months pregnant.

Claire was happy. Until her fiance came back from a work trip and suddenly announced that he wanted nothing to do with the child and moved out within days, leaving her on her own. Not even his phone number was working and she wasn’t gonna show up at his work. She wasn’t that desperate. She should have seen it coming. John never planned to have kids. But when Clarie found out that she was pregnant he had already asked her to marry him and maybe he was too proud to end the engagement back then. Thinking back maybe this was the reason he stayed. Because a part of him wanted to spend his life with her. They didn’t fight. He just moved out, told her that he would take care financially of her and the child, but that he didn’t want to be a father.

The first days she was just numb. Trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, left her while she was pregnant with a child they didn’t plan but that she loved without a doubt. That was what kept her going. Her little bean. Claire would do anything to protect her little girl.

The guys to this day called her bean. She found herself thinking more of them since John left. Even without seeing them in the last years, they still stayed in contact. Not a week went by where she didn’t receive a letter. They had a group chat that was only used when they were at home and the bachelor was on. Cause fuck did they all hate that show but they watched it anyways.

Claire was okay with the whole suddenly being on her own thing, until she felt her baby move for the first time and turned in her bed to wake her fiance, finding the side empty and cold. For one tiny moment, she had forgotten that she was alone in a city where she had only a couple of friends who were his friends rather than hers. She had always had a hard time finding friends. That probably wouldn’t change.

Sucking her bottom lip in, she rested one hand on her belly as she waited for her luggage to arrive. She slept almost through the entire flight. Claire had gotten rid of the last eight years of her life in the last 48 hours. She wanted to start fresh. She needed a fresh start. Even if she had no idea how to deal with all of this on her own.

A woman next to her helped her get her suitcases on the cart, noticing that Claire was on her own. Pushing the cart through security she saw Frankie as soon as the door opened and next to him Ben, Will and Santiago who all smiled at her, while she felt the first tears escaping her eyes.

She had met Ben and Will only a couple times, they were living an hour away, but they became part of the group immediately. Once upon a time her childhood best friend, Leah, was in that group too. Claire hadn’t thought of Leah in a long time. She had died in a car accident almost 12 years ago.

Arms pulled her in a warm embrace and even after years of not seeing each other for such a long time, she still noticed Frankie’s scent.

“We got you,” he whispered, kissing her hair. She sobbed once before she was pulled into Santi’s arms.

“Look at you,” he smiled before he looked down at her belly.

“And look at you?” he smiled and leaned down.

“Hello, this is your favorite Uncle speaking,” he winked, bending down to speak directly to her belly, making her chuckle.

“Oh please, we all know I’m gonna be the favorite, hey bean,” Will hugged her.

“Don’t listen to them baby girl, we know they're all gonna spoil you rotten,” she grinned, letting Ben kiss her cheek.

“So you’re staying?” Frankie asked and you nodded.

“I already called some realtors. I wanna get this over as quickly as possible. Already sold everything back in New York,” Claire said, looking at the two men who formed most of her teenage years.

“Okay. Let’s get you out of this airport first. You okay to stay with Frankie? He has the biggest house,” Santiago asked, pushing the cart as you slowly walked towards the exit with Ben’s arm around her shoulder.

“Uh… I don’t wanna impose. I could just take a room…”

“Fuck no. Stay at my place. It’s my Pa’s old ranch. I’m renovating it.”

“What? No way!” she said surprised but Frankie only nodded.

“Yeah after Liz and South America I needed something to keep me busy. Also needed more space for Elena,” he explained. A small smile sneaked to Claire’s face.

“I still can’t believe you’re a dad Frankie.”

“Can’t believe you gonna be a mom. Fuck we’re really adults now, huh?” he winked and Claire sighed.

“Certainly didn’t plan it that way. Or planned it at all,” she said sadly before she shook her head as if to get rid of the sad thoughts clouding her mind.

“I meant it, Claire. We got you. We are bored most times anyways.”

“Hey speak for yourself, Fish. I got a business,” Santi said.

“Yeah. Yeah. Me too. But after work you’re either drunk or after some pussy so?” Ben grinned, making her chuckle.

“So still no ladies in your life, boys?” Claire asked as they reached what definitely was Frankie’s truck. It had his company name on it. “Morales gardening”

“Nope. But now that you’re here we could finally….” Will started only for Claire to look away in disgust, making them all laugh.

“You ready to become a Daddy, Will?” she asked, her hands both on her belly.

“Uhm… of course?” he answered and she chuckled.

“That’s what I thought,” she patted his cheek.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted,” Frankie said and opened the door for her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for the BBQ,” they all waved. She waved back, letting Frankie help her inside before he closed the door behind her and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“BBQ?” she asked.

“Can’t blame the folks from wanting to welcome you, bean,” he winked.

“What folks?”

“Ya know. Folks. You gonna see,” he looked at Claire. He felt better now that she was here. Frankie had missed her these last years, the couple of calls throughout hadn’t nearly been enough. And when she called two days ago in tears… He would have gotten the chopper and flown over but he couldn’t risk it. He had to be on good behaviour to be able to keep seeing his daughter.

“I missed you, Francisco,” she whispered.

“Missed you too, Bean.”

The sun was already setting when Frankie drove down a familiar path. Claire had spent countless days on this ranch when she was younger.

“How is your Dad doing?” she asked softly and Frankie sighed as he killed the engine in front of the house.

“I fucking hate that I can’t take care of him on my own, but he’s hanging in there.”

“I’d like to visit him if you’re okay with that,” she reached over squeezing his hand and he looked at her with a small smile.

“I bet he would love that.”

“And I’m sure he would have wanted it this way, Francisco. You know your dad. He wouldn’t have wanted you to drop everything for him. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said quietly.

“Damn I really missed you Bean,” he shook his head.

“Missed you too,” she let her head fall against his shoulder.

Claire didn’t really have eyes for the house, all she wanted was to go to sleep.

“I finished the guest room this morning for you,” Frankie said, setting one of her suitcases down as he opened the door.

“Please tell me you didn’t work overnight to finish this,” she sighed looking at him. He was rubbing the back of his head, pulling the cap he was always wearing down and avoiding her eyes.

Knowingly she shook her head, but couldn’t help the smile sneaking to her face.

“I won’t say it. But please don’t touch the walls, they might still be wet,” he said and she chuckled.

“Okay. Bathroom is over there. The shower isn’t working yet but you’re welcome to use mine. Will is coming over to take a look and make this one work. Other than that if you need anything just ask. Until you found a place this is your home.”

“You really didn’t have to do this, Frankie,” she said quietly, feeling overwhelmed by all of this. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time for her and she only now seemed to realize that she was indeed about to be a single mom.

“I wanted to. You’re… You don’t deserve to be treated like this. So let us help you, okay?” he said softly and she nodded but avoided his eyes.

“Okay. Go to sleep. My room is down the hallway if you need anything,” he stepped closer, kissing her forehead and for one tiny moment, she felt like the 15 year old teenager again who was crushing on Frankie Morales.

“Good night, Francisco,” she smiled.

“Good night, bean,” he whispered before he turned around and closed the door behind him.

Claire looked around, in awe of the room, the bed looking so inviting to her. Sighing she walked over to the window, knowing she would be able to see the whole property during the day. Crossing her arms in front of her she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of nature that she had no idea she had missed living in the city for all these years. She felt a fluttering in her belly, her hand wandering down to feel a kick.

“We’ll be happy here, I promise,” she vowed, rubbing over her belly.

She didn’t want to disturb Frankie, even though she could hear the TV running so she just washed herself at the sink before she put her Pajamas on and sat down on the bed. She would unpack tomorrow. For now she had to sleep.

The sun wasn’t even up when Claire woke up. She turned in bed, propping herself up so she could look out the window and watch the sunrise. She had to make a plan. A plan that included finding a house, a doctor and help. Though help would be her smallest problem. She already looked at houses in the area and it didn’t look good. If she had more time she would buy the house just down this road, but there was no way the house would be ready before her due date. She would ask Santi for help. He had a lot of connections through his business. Though Frankie too. Claire knew that he had a little gardening company since he lost his pilot’s license. He never really talked about it, but then again, they didn’t talk that much. She knew that he had some problems with drugs in the past, but that he has been clean for almost two years and was doing better. She also knew that there was a lot more to this story then he had told her. Maybe they would have time to talk. To really talk. Groaning to herself, her quiet and peaceful morning was interrupted by her bladder. Time to start the day.

For a minute she wondered if she could risk sneaking into Frankie’s room to take a shower when she heard music playing. Grabbing her bathrobe and toiletries she opened the door and walked down. Now being really awake she had time to take in the house. It seemed like there still was a lot to do. The walls were still unpainted, the floors still old, though she could see he already started with the floor the closer she got to the kitchen.

Frankie was sitting at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of him as the radio quietly played in the background. He had a serious case of bed hair and she smiled to herself. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she found herself thinking back to all the times she had thought that maybe there was something more in between them than friendship. And maybe there was at one point a long time ago. But that was before he joined the military. She might be selfish for it, but she couldn’t be in a relationship where her partner was gone all the time. She needed someone to be there. Even Though there had been times in the past she had found herself asking if maybe she should have risked it.

Instead she had slept with Santiago.

Yeah, that was a big fuck up. Well it was also a pretty good fuck but it was just once and they definitely were better off as friends. She still didn’t know if Frankie knew. Not that she had to explain herself. Frankie always knew what effect he had on the women around him, and he sure as hell took advantage of it. And now she felt nothing more than love for him. As a friend, nothing more.

“Good Morning,” she said quietly and Frankie turned his head, yawning at her.

Chuckling she walked over taking in the kitchen, setting her toiletries down.

“You weren’t kidding when you say you were still renovating,” she sat down next to him. He got up from his seat walking over to fix her a mug of tea.

“Still hooked on Strawberry tea, I hope?” he asked and she nodded, surprised that he remembered.

“Yeah. Though the kitchen and living room are supposed to be finished by the end of next week. So sorry for the noise in the next couple days,” he walked over and set down the mug of tea in front of her.

“Hey it’s your house. I’m just thankful you let me stay.”

“Of course. Couldn’t let you stay in the dumpster motel in this town,” he winked. She took a sip of the tea and it was perfect.

“So what are you planning for today?” he asked.

“I probably should start looking into houses. I’m kind of on a timetable here,” she rested one hand on her belly and Frankie followed her movement.

“Yeah. I think Pope already called someone for some houses. It’s not looking good.”

“Yeah I thought so. Everything I found on the internet was in really bad shape,” she sighed.

“It’s gonna work out. And if you don’t find something, you’re welcome to stay. The place is big enough,” he shrugged and Claire laughed quietly.

“Yeah I bet you can’t wait to live with a hormonal pregnant woman and then with a newborn,” she joked.

“I lived with Pope. Nothing can be worse and…”

“And?” she asked.

“I already lived with a hormonal pregnant woman. It’s not that bad,” he shrugged with a small smile. She looked at him with a small smile on her face.

“You say that now. Wait till I’m craving your mug cake at 3am now that I’m living with you,” she joked. Frankie laughed.

“Wow I haven’t had one of those in at least 10 years.”

“Well then it’s about time.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking at Claire. She looked more relaxed today, like she had a good night’s sleep and he was thankful he put in an overnight to finish the guest room for her. She deserved to relax. When she told him that she not only was pregnant but dumped by her fiance Frankie was furious, yet at the same time he already decided that he would take care of her and help her with everything she needed. It was the least he could do.

Even though they grew apart in the last years, she still was one of his best friends.

“Okay. I’m gonna go take a shower. I got to drive out to check on a project. You gonna be okay here for a while?” Frankie asked. Claire nodded, grabbing her mug of tea.

“Just tell me when you’re going out so I can take a shower,” she said.

“Thank you, Frankie,” she whispered when she stopped next to him and softly kissed his cheek, before she walked down the hallway. Frankie looked after her with a soft smile before he got up to get ready to head out.

Next chapter

#my writing #going back home #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x ofc #pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #frankie morales fanfiction

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scriibble-fics · 3 years

Text

Magic

Excerpt from a new Jily seventh-year one-shot that has ballooned dramatically, to the surprise of no one. There's more to come!

As January slips by, days pass without a kiss at minimum, although they’re few and far between. On the other hand, they don’t waste a single day without some form of verbal interaction—laughter in between classes, or banter at mealtimes, or bickering at prefect meetings that almost always serves as a precursor to snogging. Increasingly, new activities join these pastimes that have somehow become cherished. Lily grows closer to his friends, and James makes quick inroads with hers, although sometimes her mates look a little too flattered by his attention for her liking. He requests her help in Potions, and they spend long hours together in the dungeons accomplishing more than just snogging, although that comes with the territory as well. In turn, he insists on aiding her in Transfiguration after Sirius offers continued help, and the way Sirius winks at her when James turns his back has her convinced that he’s pleased for reasons beyond escaping the extra work of tutoring her. Truly, Sirius surprises her more and more as the days melt by, because he easily detaches himself from James’ side to allow for the quiet, private conversations that begin to happen organically between them in the common room, and he even distracts her friends so it can happen. None of her friends complain about this new arrangement that secures Sirius’ attention, but Marlene seems perhaps the happiest of all.

She and James have talked before these conversations, of course. They’ve been housemates for years, after all, and he’s never shied away from paying her attention that she typically hasn’t wanted. Yet most of that attention has erred on the side of either endless banter or endless bickering, and the quiet, fireside chats that happen with more and more regularity feel worlds apart from either of those things. Sure, they still laugh and they still argue, although the laughs are quieter, and more smiles than harsh words accompany the arguments. He watches her plait her hair or rub her neck while they talk, his eyes soft as they discuss their respective career aspirations, and trade gossip about fellow students, and whisper secrets about their friends, and recount memories of the past and hopes for the future. He tells her about his brilliant potioneer father and brilliant herbologist mother, and she can almost picture them as he talks, his father’s spectacles and messy hair and his mother’s rigid posture and kind face. In turn, he asks probing questions about her own family, until she reveals bit by bit about her jolly, constantly-teasing dad and loving caretaker of a mum. Eventually, she even tells him about Petunia too, although it comes even more difficultly than any mention of her parents.

“I didn’t even know you had a sister,” he says one particularly chilly night as wind whips past the common room windows. She feels her shoulders shift outside of her control, and he catches the subtle change. He always does. “What?”

She’s trying, just like she’d promised Marlene, and it doesn’t come easily. “I’m sure her friends have said that to her about me.”

He takes that in for a moment. “Maybe,” he says eventually. “She’d be stupid not to claim you, though. Besides—” It sounds like he’s carefully counting each word. “Family isn’t about blood. It’s a choice. I mean, look at Sirius.”

He means it metaphorically, not literally, but they both look towards where Sirius lounges nearby, laughing with his friends and hers. It’s late, and particularly late for a weekday, so Sirius’ laughter sounds especially loud in the near-empty common room. Watching him throw his head back in amusement, it’s nearly impossible not to smile with him, and James does.

She doesn’t. If anything, Sirius’ laughter triggers something even sadder inside her, and for reasons she doesn’t fully understand, not at first. “It’s not fair,” she says quietly, words spoken without thought, and it all clicks together abruptly, like a radio station suddenly in tune. Her throat burns, and she clears it as she looks towards the fire. “Sorry. Sorry, I—” Her explanation falters and then dies in her mouth. There are probably words express it all—the sudden clarity in Sirius’ constant gregarious nature that he uses to win people over like his life depends upon it, her own people-pleasing ways, the ease of their bond that she’s never understood before—but trying to find them hurts too much to even contemplate past a couple of painful seconds.

James reaches for her hand, which has clenched into a fist atop her lap. Somehow, the slow stroke of his fingers eases the tension that has turned her knuckles white. Her hand opens, and his thumb caresses each of her knuckles as color returns. “Save your apologies for the next time you piss me off,” he says, and he turns her hand over in her lap.

She watches as he presses their palms together, his fingers dwarfing hers, and her mouth smiles before she catches herself at it. “It seems like I’ve been pissing you off less lately.”

He returns her smile, his fingers lacing through hers in a brief, warm squeeze. “It’s hard to get mad at you when you’re getting me off all the time.” Something shifts in his voice, something that squeezes her insides.

“Same, but don’t take that as a challenge to piss me off.”

He chuckles softly. “You know me too well. Well, I’m glad we finally figured out how to get you to tolerate me.”

His hand remains locked in hers, his thumb once again slowly brushing over her knuckles. She’s not sure which is more difficult to look at: their hands, fitted so neatly together, or his face, which radiates more warmth than even moments before. “Tolerate,” she repeats, skeptical. That hardly sums up the things he does to her body—and to her mind, and, increasingly, to her heart—on a regular basis. “The same goes for you.”

“Evans.” Her name comes out chidingly, and he waits until she looks at him before he goes on. “I don’t just tolerate you. And I’d—” He takes in a deep breath, eyes flickering back and forth between each of hers. “Your sister is stupid,” he says again, but it sounds entirely different somehow. “Anyone would be lucky to claim you. I told you—you’re magic.”

It’s not the first time he’s declared as much to her since the train, but it’s the first time that it sounds like something other than heated talk spoken against her mouth or skin. For the first time, she catches a glimmer of what he means��or a glimmer of what it means to her, at least, since she has no way of knowing if he feels the same. Something stretches between them, a moment that’s brief but heavy and undeniable, and she wants to look away, but she can’t. She’s suspended in time, held entirely in place on the other side of his gaze.

It’s magic, what holds her there, a magic unlike any she’s ever discovered.

“Thank you.” Her voice comes out soft and a little small. She sounds nothing like herself.

He doesn’t call her on it. He moves closer to her, shifting towards the edge of his armchair until their knees touch, and his other hand joins where he’s still holding hers atop her lap. “I’m rather good at palm reading, you know,” he says, and the magic between them snaps as the fireplace crackles, and so abruptly that she jumps a little. Before she can blink, things settle back into familiar patterns, from the lazy smile on his face to the teasing in his tone to her own immediate banter in return.

“Don’t insult my intelligence. You dropped out of Divination fourth year. I haven’t forgotten.”

“Flattered you remember my movements so closely.” He releases her hand so he can pull it into his own lap, and he traces a fingertip along her palm, drama exuding from every pore. “If you’re too scared to know your future—worried who might be in it, maybe—”

“Go on, then.”

The future—as told by James—holds things she expects and things that she doesn’t.

She expects him to predict a long life. She expects him to predict a continued close relationship with her friends. She expects him to predict a prosperous career in brewing, because she’s confided those dreams in him. He tells her all of those things as he tickles her palm with twisting caresses.

Yet she doesn’t expect his long description of her handsome future husband, a man who will allegedly propose many times before she’ll finally accept. She also doesn’t expect his recounting of all the children she’ll have, enough for an entire Quidditch team.

She’s laughing by the end, and he’s laughing with her. “That’s too many kids,” she says. “I’m not doing that to my body, and I can’t imagine that this wonderful husband of mine—”

“He’s handsome too, don’t forget.”

“Right. I can’t imagine that this wonderful, handsome husband of mine will expect it of me.” She wiggles her fingers. “Look again, will you?”

He obliges with all the seriousness of a seer, and his hair falls in front of his face as he bends in concentration. “Maybe not quite that many, but at least two, maybe three. It’s a lonely existence, being an only child. Your husband, he’ll feel pretty strongly about that.”

Thank god he’s looking at her hand. Thank god he’s looking at her hand and not her face, because—

All banter and faux predictions aside, she’s tempted to start practicing for those babies with him right then and there.

Accidentally or on purpose, she’s falling in love with him, and it’s all his fault.

#jily #jilyfic #james potter #lily evans #marauders #marauders fanfiction #scriibble has no chill #and needs to stfu up and finish EA #but inspiration is a fickle beast

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

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Cheryl//this is me trying

Request: Can I request a season 1 cheryl x reader. Cheryl always protects reader from people and r is shy but falls in love with the redhead and some who’s accidentally tells her while she’s having a bad day but cheryl is quick to reassure her then they cuddle after going to pops or something and it’s just fluffy.

hey! happy valentines day gays! and get you, two imagines in one day, it must be the day of love. i hope you all like this because it’s really fluffy and i enjoyed writing this a lot!

Overnight, Riverdale became a shell of its former self. Two months since Kevin Keller and Moose Mason stumbled upon the body of Jason Blossom, and nobody has been the same since.

The town is riddled with secrets, they’re slowly destroying it like a disease. Nobody trusts anybody anymore, everyone is on high alert, and everyone is a suspect.

Cheryl usually loves being the centre of attention, she has done ever she was a kid. It’s something that comes naturally with being a twin, you share everything and as much as she loves loved the shared birthdays and friends, she has always loved being the centre of attention.

Now however, she hates it. Her life is a true crime documentary at the minute, and all she wants is for the killer to be caught so the crew can pack up and leave and she no longer has to stare down at the blinding lights being cast over her and her family.

The only thing that’s kept her sane over the past two months, is you. Despite everything happening, despite the murder and the secrets and the suspicion, you’ve stuck by her side. You were with her when they found the body, and you haven’t really left since.

The two of you are unlikely friends, she’s Cheryl. Bright and bold and never one to back down from confrontation. But you’re Y/n, sweet and shy and always the first to shrink away from any sort of attention directed at you.

She knows you hate the constant attention recently, it’s something you get used when you’re best friends with the victim’s sister, but not once have you complained.

You’ve being questioned by police, journalists and strangers on the internet. You’ve had camera’s shoved in your face on your walk back from school and been asked countless questions about what you know about the Blossom’s. And you’ve also been offered ridiculous amounts of money in order to talk. But no matter what happens, you always just rush past them and join Cheryl, who’s always waiting for you with a sad smile and warm hand.

Due to the constant hoard of vultures swarming Riverdale High, the two of you had to figure out somewhere else to meet after school so you could walk the long way home. It adds twenty minutes to your walk, but it’s not that well known around town, meaning people can’t bother you.

Plus, the extra twenty minutes that you get to spend with Cheryl isn’t the worst thing. It’s the opposite in fact. It’s the thing you look forward to, even if you are looking over your shoulder every so often

But today you’re not at your meeting spot.

When Cheryl pushes her way through the stares of her fellow students with you and only you on her mind and makes her way through the school basement, back up the stairs and out of the fire exit, you’re not waiting for her with a smile that makes her feel warm and a cold slice of pizza you snuck out of the cafe earlier.

The only thing waiting for her is a full bin and an empty field.

“Y/n?” She calls out and looks around the corner. She’s met with three seniors, all of which are smoking with absolutely no care for being caught.

“She’s not here.” One of them says, her blonde hair and large glasses cover half of her face and Cheryl forces a smile.

“Hey, Blossom.” A boy says and Cheryl freezes. Who knows what they want, but whatever it is, it probably won’t be nice. It’ll probably be something along the lines of ‘hey, did you kill your brother’ and no matter how many times she’s asked that, it doesn’t get any easier. “Maybe try the bleachers.” He says, ending his sentence with a sympathetic smile and Cheryl nods slowly, not really sure what to say.

“Thanks.” She forces and spins on her heel.

“We’re sorry about your brother, Cheryl.” The blonde one says and she turns around again. Each of them look sad, with matching frowns and sorrow swimming in their eyes.

Jason meant the world to Cheryl, but he also meant a hell of a lot to other people too. And that’s when it hits her. Of course you’re at the bleachers.

For some bizarre reason, only known by your father. You and your family used to come along every other week to watch the Bulldogs play. For a while you thought it was because your dad was trying to get you and your brother into football and this was a lot cheaper than the actual game, but the older you got the more you figured it was because he was just trying to relive his youth. For 90 minutes he could pretend that he was quarterback again and for those 90 minutes your dad would be the happiest he’d been all week.

Then one week, a redhead sat beside you. In clothes that were far too expensive to be worn to a high school football game. Her parents looked like they wanted to be there as much as she did, but then a boy with matching red hair ran out on to the pitch and you’d never seen a smile quite like it.

After that, you made sure to sit beside her at every game. And then one day she sat opposite you at lunch. The first few times she was alone, but then soon she began to appear with a group of other girls, but you were the only one she’d talk to.

Eventually lunch times and football games turned into group projects and sleepovers. You spend hours braiding her hair and listening to her tell you stories of other worlds and the creatures that live in them. You’d sneak down the dark and creepy halls of Thornhill in hopes of finding a midnight snack, and instead be met by Jason and your older brother in clown masks.

Eventually, you found a different way to get to the kitchen, one that Jason didn’t know about. And when he’d come looking for you, both of you would jump out and chase him around the house, much to the dismay of Penelope and Clifford.

Those bleachers are what started a whole friendship, not only between you and her, but also you and Jason. When you’re brother eventually made the team, thanks to a good word put in my Jason, despite him being a year younger. Him and Jason became as inseparable as you and Cheryl and so it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see the four of you hanging out. It also meant that if Cheryl was busy, you and Jason would hang out until she finished whatever she was doing.

Grief is a hell of a lonely thing, and sometimes Cheryl forgets that other people miss Jason too. With everything going on, she didn’t even think about how you were doing. With all the questions, accusations and crying that constantly fills Cheryl’s house. She never even asked how you were.

And now her legs can’t carry her quick enough to were she hopes your sat. Because she’s already lost her brother, she can’t lose you too. She wobbles as her heels dig into the dirt, kicking up dust and mud as she runs across the field. Her hair swings behind her, and she can feel the red scrunchie loosen the quicker she runs.

The bleachers have all sorts carved into them. Initials in hearts, some of them still there, some of them crossed out so aggressively that it’s a miracle they didn’t chop it in half. There’s inside jokes and ridiculous rumours. Codes and dates and everything in between.

But something new has been added in the past few days.

cheryl murdered jason

and y/n helped

The writing is small and barely legible, but it’s there and the more you run your fingers over it the more it carves itself into your heart.

“Y/n?” Cheryl pants breathlessly and you quickly pull yourself away from it. Instead you stand up properly and pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your hands. The y/f/c scrunchie remains still in your hair and Cheryl has to stare at it for a few seconds to calm herself down. “You weren’t at our spot.” She says quietly and you close your eyes.

You let her down. You let her down. You always let her down.

“Sorry Cheryl.” You sigh and sit down in the dirt. Cheryl looks around before sitting beside you. “I just wanted some space.” You add and force yourself to look at her.

The sun sits behind her, but even that doesn’t seem as bright as it used to be. Nothing is what it used to be. For the past two months, you’ve been told that thats a good thing. But what’s good about someone you loved being dead. What’s good about watching someone else you love go through life but not really live.

Cheryl just exists.

But she exists for you.

Because as lost as she would be without you, she knows you would be just as lost without her.

It’s an unspoken rule now, you always text each other when you wake up and before you go to sleep. It’s something you used to do anyway, but now you make a point not to forget. Because forgetting means that the worst could have happened, and that’s something neither of you can bare to deal with.

“I get it.” She nods. “I was just worried that’s all.” She adds, trying to sound as casual as she can. But on the inside she’s screaming. Because she thought you had died, she thought whoever had killed Jason had gotten to you too, and the whole reason you’re both dead is because she wronged the wrong person.

There’s a lot of people that don’t like Cheryl, being unliked comes naturally to her. But she doesn’t know how she’ll cope if she’s so unlikeable someone she loves died.

She has no idea why your friends with her to be honest. She saw you staring at her at a football game once. But it wasn’t a stare she was used to. It wasn’t cold like her mothers or jealous like her friends. No, this was nice. You were staring at her like you wanted to know about her, like when you looked at her, you saw a friend not someone to be feared.

And so Cheryl clung onto the tiny hint of friendship, the crack of a door into something that could happen, and she shoved herself through it. It worked, and now you’re the only person she’s nice to. She’s mean to everyone else, she calls them names and teases them, especially when they’re rude to you...but you stay. And she has no idea why, but she’s not going to wish it away.

“Shit, sorry Cheryl.” You drop your head into your hands and Cheryl looks at you confused. She looks around, not really sure of what to do. “I didn’t think, God knows what you thought had happened.” You ramble and she realizes you’re crying. Her eyes widen and you look at her, your eyes red and puffed and your lips pulls into frown.

“It’s okay.” She replies and wraps her arms around you. You bury your head into her neck, the smell of maple and cherries invade your senses and you let out a shaky breath.

It smells like home and happier times, and you want to crawl into those happy memories and never come back out. “I was just being ridiculous.” She tries to play it off, to make it seem like she couldn’t feel her heartbeat in her throat and the ringing in her ears. Pretend like it didn’t feel like someone had pulled her heart out and stamped on it.

“No, no you weren’t. I’m really sorry.” You sob and wrap your arms around her. She falls into your neck, surprised but not upset with how tight you’re holding her. She never wants you to let go. But of course she has to, and so however reluctant, she untangles herself from you and lets out a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffle. She hands you a tissue and you wipe your eyes with it before scrunching it up in your hand. “I’ve just had a rubbish day. Somebody shoved this in my locker.” You frown and pull a balled up piece of paper out of your pocket.

Cheryl’s eyebrows knit in confusion as she takes it from you, her fingers graze yours and you freeze for a few seconds.

who do you think did it?

cheryl __

y/n __

Jamie __

“Why is your brother on here?” Cheryl asks, her voice rising with each word and you rest your hand on top of hers to calm her down.

“I dunno.” You shrug. “Your parents are on there too.” You add and point further down the page.

“What a bunch of dicks.” She grumbles and crumples it up. “Do you know who it was?” You shrug and she sighs.

“I’ve just gotten tired of the staring and the whispers. So I thought I’d just have five minutes peace before going home and having to listen to Jamie cry in his room but pretend he’s okay. Or for my parents to walk on eggshells around both of us. Neither of them know what to say, and because of that they keep saying the wrong thing.” You ramble and she listens intently, trying her best to find a resolution to all of your problems.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t know the answer to everything, no matter what her mom says.

“I just thought five minutes by myself can’t be terrible. But then I came down here and someone carve-well it doesn’t matter what they wrote. What matters is that I made you worry at the worst possible time in your life. I hurt you, and I’m really sorry. Believe me, hurting you is the last thing I want to do you. I feel sick even just thinking about it. I never, ever want to hurt you. I love you too much. I love you more that I’ve ever loved anything or anyone ever. I just love yo-” Your eyes widen when you realize what you’ve just admitted to.

You don’t want to look at her, but she hasn’t said anything in a while and that’s strange for her. So you force yourself to look at her, expecting the worst. Expecting disgust, disappointment, betrayal. But it’s none of those.

Instead she’s smiling. And she looks actually happy. Something you haven’t seen in so long, something you’re glad to see, despite the circumstances.

Oh yeah, you’ve just told her you’re in love with her. What do you say after that?

“I-er-”

“Y/n?” She cuts you off before you get the chance to ruin the moment. She’s known you for long enough to know that when you get nervous, you ramble and when you ramble you say weird things.

You’re grateful for her cutting you off, usually if she talks over you, it annoys the hell out of you. But this time it’s welcomed and she stifles a small laugh and the sigh of relief you let out.

But the next thing she says is something that you weren’t expecting, but you’re sure as hell grateful for.

“Would you like to go on a date?”

---

The red lights from outside, illuminate Cheryl’s pale face in the night, painting her in a reddish hue and you find yourself staring at her for far longer than would be considered normal.

Lucky for you, she hasn’t noticed. She doesn’t seem to be paying attention to anything, not really anyway. Instead she stares down at her food, pushing a few fries around the plate and anxiety rises in your chest.

She’s already regretting doing this. She’s made a mistake and now she doesn’t know how to let you down gently.

She seems to sense you nerves because she’s looking at you quickly, a sad smile twitching at her lips.

“Sorry, I just. Jason always used to tease me about the two of us. It’s the only thing we’d take about sometimes. He’d constantly ask me if I’d asked you out yet. And every time I would say ‘no, we’re just friends’ but, well neither of us really believed that.” She says, a small laugh escapes her lips near the end, but she quickly shuts it off. It’s too soon for her to be laughing, too soon for her to be happy.

“Yeah.” You nod and finish your drink. “He used to tease me too. ‘if you don’t tell her, I’ll do it myself’.” You mimic his voice and a ghost of a smile twitches at her lips as she forces herself to look at you. “I am really glad you did ask me though.” Your voice shakes a little with nerves and Cheryl stares at you confused. “I do really like you Cheryl.”

“I really like you too.” She smiles softly and you stare at her lips. Sometimes you think the red lipstick has permanently stained her lips cherry red. Even when you guys are a sleepover, she still has bright red lips and the other part of you wonders if that’s just what they look like.

“Hey.” You start and a sly smile twitches at your lips as you remember an old memory. She leans forward, excited to know what you’re smiling about.

It could literally be anything, from a musty old book she let you borrow from the Thornhill archive, to a new tv show you started to watch. But whatever it is, she’s excited to hear you talk about it.

“Can you remember last year. It was Jamie’s 16th birthday and you and Jason were invited over. Jason was there because him and Jamie were planning on sneaking out later that night, and you tagged along so you could keep me company.” You start and she smiles at the memory.

The four of you sat in the living room, while your mom brought cake and your dad sang ‘happy birthday’. Cheryl remembers how happy she was, and she remembers talking to Jason afterwards, the two of them whispering and wondering if that was what a normal family was supposed to look like.

You, Cheryl and Jason had each pitched in for the record player he wanted. And even though you all knew that just Cheryl alone could have been able to buy him it if she really wanted, you knew they split it for you.

Jamie was ecstatic when he opened the box, and then all of the records you’d bought to go with it. He’d played it every single day since getting it, but now you haven’t heard it in months.

“Yeah.” She nods, a sad smiling taking over he face. “Can you remember when Jason pushed his face into the cake.” She adds making you snort a laugh.

The bell above Pop’s rings and Betty and Archie walk in. They send you a sympathetic smile before sitting at their own booth, and you and Cheryl share a look.

“Would you like another one?” You point at her milkshake and she nods, smiling shyly.

---

The walk home is over far too soon, and it’s only when you’re standing on your porch do you realize you took the normal way home by accident. Either the media has gone to sleep, or people are starting to forget about Jason and Riverdale.

That thought makes you frown and Cheryl watches your expression falter before you look back at her again.

“Thank you for walking me home.” You smile shyly and a nervous laugh escapes her lips.

“It’s no problem.” She shrugs and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds longer than normal. She’s about to leave when you grab her hand and spin her around to face you.

She’s surprised for a second, until suddenly she feels a pair of lips on hers, and then the only thing she can feel is them. Everything else disappears, and though the kiss is short and a little awkward, it’s still perfect.

“Would you like to come in?” You ask and motion your head to large wooden door. The pain is chipped around the metal numbers, something your mom has nagged your dad about for the past 6 months. “We still have the rest of y/f/s to watch.”

“I’d love to.” She nods and the two of you grin at each other. “But seriously, how many times have you seen that now?”

“It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen it.” You unlock the front door, giving it a quick kick before you stumble through it. “What matters is that this is the first time you’re seeing it.” You add and she rolls her eyes but follows you up the stairs anyway.

The sun sets over another day in Riverdale and darkness floods the town. The streets are cold and scary, but wrapped in your duvet and Cheryl’s arms, you’ve never felt warmer.

#cheryl blossom #cheryl blossom imagine #cheryl blossom x reader #cheryl blossom x y/n #cheryl blossom x you #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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newsies-of-corona · 4 years

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Varian & Affirmation

Analysis:

And we’ve got another one, folks! This one hit hard for me for sure. Just the way that the show set it up...it’s incredible. So without any further adieu...

“Well, shall we get started?”

Motives

So I’m just going to come right out and say it: Varian is selfish in Season 1. The whole way through. (Now don’t leave yet! If you know me you know how much of a fan I am of this complex alchemist and this is not a hate post by all means!)

But yes. Throughout the whole of Season 1, Varian has a very self-centered mindset that’s hard to pick up on at first, but it’s there. Here’s some dialogue examples:

“I am sure that I, Varian, can unlock the mystery of your hair with the power of science!”

“Hey Flynn Rider? Wanna come with?”

“It doesn’t matter. The truth is all I really wanted to do was impress you, I thought that if I showed you what I was capable of you might see something in me.”

“Actually he’d probably be impressed. At least I hope he’d be impressed.”

Most of these quotes sound perfectly innocent, and they are! But it’s the motives behind them that make them more self-centered. Varian’s main goal, his life blood practically, is affirmation. He yearns to be adored and recognized for his achievements. It’s a perfectly normal and human want. I myself struggle with this all the time. But when it’s the only thing that you strive for? The only thing that makes you happy? It effects everything that you say and do. If you dig deep into these quotes, you can see what he’s really craving.

By discovering the mystery of Rapunzel’s hair, Varian gets credit and especially admiration. By showing his idol his inventions, he’s expecting Eugene to tell him what a genius he is or how amazed he is that this fourteen year old kid could build all this. The third one is just wanting Cassandra to recognize him since he looks up to her, and went to great lengths to impress her. Even when he helped her, it was still because he wanted to impress her and get her to help him in return. Throughout that episode he’s trying so hard to get her to compliment his work. In three of these examples, he gets the adoration he asked for. But that’s the problem: he asked for it. Eugene and Cass essentially tell him the same thing, “you’re a great, smart kid with good intentions.” And both times he responds more...despondently. For Cass it’s “thanks for saying that.” For Eugene it’s just looking at him sadly because this wasn’t what he wanted to hear. In essence: it isn’t enough.

And the last quote obviously represents the affirmation he craves the most, his father’s, and the one that he doesn’t get.

Even slight comments like “I build it myself,” “of my own design,” and “wanna see my new invention?” all have the underlying motive of craving affirmation from his peers. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but since Varian often has tunnel-vision and can’t see the consequences of his actions, it quickly becomes an issue. Especially in the case of, of course, the black rocks.

Taking it Too Far

We find out that Varian discovered the rocks in Great Expotations. Rapunzel inadvertently tasked him with figuring out how to get rid of them, and in his mind he needed to. To impress her and possibly all of Corona. So he ran tests and got reprimanded by his dad probably more than once. But this is the biggest thing he could ever do: rescue his village and the kingdom and make his dad proud in the process. That’s why he wanted to come with him and hopefully talk to the king. Yes, in this case he actually wants to help his village, he’s not heartless and he cares a lot, but he’s predominantly focusing on the rewards that will come after he figured it out.

Of course we know his plans go awry again, but he never stops focusing on his goal of making his dad proud of him. Seriously...NEVER.

Taking it WAY Too Far

Enter: Villain Arc. Suddenly his need to be adored and affirmed flips upside down. He doesn’t want compliments anymore, he wants people to fear him, respect him, and listen to him.

Examples:

“I have asked for help and have been ignored, I will not be ignored any longer!”

“I tried asking for help in a civil manner but was denied by everyone in Corona. So, unfortunately, this is my only remaining recourse.”

“I’ll make them hear me...”

I touched on this in my Confidence analysis, but Varian never loses his drive. And his want to be revered, consumes him. Even when he goes to prison, he joins Andrew and takes over Corona to be feared. But he soon realizes, it’s still not enough. His want for revenge doesn’t satisfy him or make him happy, it just makes him feel worse as the weight of what he’s done gradually crashes down on him.

By the time Rapunzel comes back, it’s all an act. He’s not craving adoration anymore. He just wants a way out of this cycle of disappointment that isn’t getting him anywhere. You can tell from the lines, too.

“Me? No, not really.”

“So that no one will forget they turned their back on my father!”

“I took their queen prisoner! I threatened their princess! I helped these guys take over their kingdom!”

Now the first one is small, but it actually shows a lot of development (even if he says it in a rather dorky way) because he’s not taking credit for something or taking the “fear” that he wanted so badly. The second one just sounds like a threat but it’s not “they turned their backs on me,” like it was in season 1. It’s back to his father, and it’s, in a way, humbling Varian by taking himself out of the picture. And of course the last one is the most evident: he’s listing his faults and realizing he doesn’t deserve the adoration he used to crave so much.

Making it Right

During Varian’s redemption...we see these thoughts really come to light.

“All I ever wanted was for my father to be proud. But if he were free from the amber now, and saw everything I’ve done, well he’d be ashamed.”

This is his turning point. This is where he owns up to how warped and twisted his mindset was and makes an effort to fix it with Rapunzel. Not for himself; not for the glory, but because it’s the right thing to do. He knows he messed up with the Quirineon, and he’s literally willing to die to make up for his mistakes. This is a direct contrast to his previous statement: “I will make you proud of me, dad. If it’s the last thing I ever do.”

Because if he dies fixing his mistakes, he doesn’t expect any kind of praise. He’d leave a legacy of horrible deeds that would never make his dad proud; but he’d be saving Corona and that’s all that matters. Of course he doesn’t actually die, thank goodness, and Rapunzel saves Corona instead, but he’s learned something from this whole experience. And one thing he especially didn’t expect was for Rapunzel to keep her promise after everything. And even when his dad finally says those words...they were supposed to mean everything, but they don’t. It still isn’t enough. Especially not after everything that’s happened. I touched on this in another analysis as well, but he feels like he doesn’t deserve those words.

From this point, Varian has a whole new outlook on life, not dependent on gaining recognition. He’s still the cocky, confident alchemist we know and love, but he shows off his inventions because he’s proud of them, and that’s enough. He saves Corona from the red rocks because he genuinely wants to help his kingdom, he doesn’t have any underlying motives whatsoever. He helps with the Demanitus Scroll because he wants to help Rapunzel figure everything out. And at the end he helps defeat Zhan Tiri because he knows he can help, and he genuinely wants to. (And here’s where I get emotional.)

Varian doesn’t once ask for compliments or a “thank you” throughout season 3, yet that’s exactly what he gets. After all of those years of seeking and yearning for adoration, he finally gets it when he doesn’t need it anymore.

In every selfless thing he does for Corona, he gets a reward in some way. When he rescues the kingdom from black rocks, he didn’t ask for anything in return, yet his reputation was restored. When he agreed to help with the scroll, he actually got to work in Demanitus’ Lab, someone he’s admired forever. And when he helps with the portal, he gets to go see Demanitus’ tomb and I mean...

that’s the happiest we’ve ever seen him. And it isn’t just the big things either, it’s the little ones. The way that Rapunzel calls him “a genius,” when he doesn’t ask for it or allude to it in any way. The “good job, buddy,” that Eugene tells him after he fixes up the balloon. And every time he’s complimented, he stays humble. He even responds one time with “just doing my part.”

And at the very end of his arc, after all of that selfless work he did for Corona out of the goodness of his own heart, he’s given his very own title of “Royal Engineer.” An official position in the kingdom that people truly look up to and respect.

Conclusion

This is honestly one the most well-done character arcs I’ve ever seen, because it’s absolute poetic justice. At the beginning, Varian is so focused on his own need of affirmation that he forgets everything else, and jeopardizes himself on multiple occasions. Especially when his motives become warped. But when he finally sets his pride and his own ambitions aside and realizes he’s already enough, that’s when he gets the respect and adoration that he had always wanted. And that my friends...is CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

#just when i think i knew everything about this kid- SOMETHING ELSE SHOWS UP-#varian tts #varian #lissa analyzes varian....again #varian analysis #villain varian #tangled the series

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