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kevindayscrown · 3 years

Text

The one where Kevin Day falls in love with an ice hockey player.

Part 9

Closing Curtain

(TW: Very angsty. Enjoy;))

Anything included in this head canon takes place the semester after the Foxes won the championship against the Ravens.

Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about varsity teams in the United States so excuse any false information. Head over to the directory to find the previous parts.

It was easy like that. It was easy to pretend that it was all part of the game. The two of them were acting, after all. It was nothing more. The weeks leading up to the winter banquet were spent in practices, in studying, in Exy and in the dates with Eric.

Kevin knew it should be ending soon. He’d already fed the press enough, and the news were slowly starting to die down.

He didn’t think too much of the fact that he didn’t want it to end.

Despite not having completely opened up to Eric yet, Kevin had been growing more and more comfortable around him. Their dates consisted mostly of going to some public place for a couple of hours before retreating to the safety of the attic.

Kevin had never before cared about the details in someone’s life, but if someone asked him what did Eric’s laughter sound like (loud and obnoxious like thunder), what his favorite food was (pizza, much to Kevin’s dismay, and a traditional Vietnamese dish), and other silly little questions like these, Kevin would be able to answer them.

Of course, Eric in return, had discovered quite a lot about Kevin, perhaps even things that Kevin didn’t know about himself to begin with.

Despite all that, their first kiss at the attic during their first date was also their last.

After sobering up from the excitement of the day, Kevin had more or less freaked out over it.

He convinced himself it meant nothing.

This was all just a game.

The day of the winter banquet came sooner than Kevin expected it. The Foxes had won enough games to move forward in the season and the new recruits had finally adjusted in the team.

The USC Trojans were hosting the banquet that year. The Foxes would have to travel across the country to get there, and would also spend the night at a hotel.

Much to Kevin’s dismay, this also meant that Eric would get to know the foxes of the Exy team better, and they would also probably embarrass Kevin in front of Eric.

“So, Eric.”

“Yes Nicky?”

Kevin was already rolling his eyes. He looked at the seats in front of them, seeing Andrew staring out of the window while squeezing Neil’s hand. It was a sight the Foxes didn’t get to see often but Andrew hated airplanes and flying. Kevin doubted he cared much about what the Foxes saw right now.

Nicky started asking Eric stupid questions about his ‘relationship’ with Kevin and soon, most of the Foxes joined in. Of course, they were enjoying this, but only Eric seemed to indulge them. Kevin ended up plugging in his earphones and just watching a game of Exy on his laptop.

When they arrived, they went straight to the court, where everything had been set up for the banquet. The foxes were one of the last teams to arrive so they were quickly taken to the locker rooms to change.

At that point, Kevin was already feeling his nerves overwhelm him. He knew he would see familiar faces and yet he’d still have to pretend he was dating a guy.

The two of them had already faced… judgment but it would be different coming from other Exy players.

“Hey,” Eric said when they were dressed and heading outside, hand on the small of Kevin’s back. “You look a bit pale. You sure you’re okay?”

Kevin flinched away from his touch when he noticed that people were looking. People Kevin knew, people he could name.

Eric noticed something was wrong and pulled his hand away quickly.

“Hey, Day!” Someone called and Kevin turned, spotting Jeremy with Jean on toe. A small smile appeared on Kevin’s lips, though it was faint.

“Hello Jeremy.”

Jeremy glanced at Eric by Kevin’s side and offered the pair a toothy grin.

“So, the rumors are true?”

Kevin immediately tensed, sparing a glance at Jean, who stood there unfazed, like a silent reminder.

He could only force a small smile before replying, “They-,”

“I believe we should take our seats? I think food is being served,” Eric said, as if able to feel the tension oozing off of Kevin.

Jeremy nodded and smiled again. Kevin often wondered how could one person have so much kindness to spare.

“Talk to you later, Kev,” the blond said and patted Kevin’s shoulder before walking past him.

Jean kept his gaze on Kevin a little longer before he followed after his teammate.

Eric then led them at their table and the two took a seat in silence.

No matter how many times Eric tried to spark a conversation, Kevin would turn away and say nothing. He would recoil from any kind of touch, always keeping an eye out for who might be watching.

Rumors.

“Day, what’s wrong?” Eric muttered under his breath eventually.

“Nothing is wrong,” Kevin said, casting a cold, apathetic look at Eric.

Eric was taken back by that, eyebrows furrowed, seeing as he hadn’t been on the receiving end of Kevin’s glares in a while.

“Okay, pause. Can we talk about it?”

Kevin hesitated, but then nodded slowly.

The only thought in his mind was that maybe a big break up during the winter banquet would attract the last ounce of attention they could get out of this.

They went to the restroom and Eric waited until the door was closed before he spoke.

“Are we going to go back to pretending we hate each other now?”

Kevin didn’t respond immediately as he leaned up against the counter, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I don’t understand what you expect from me, Jiang. If anything, the news has died down. You are free to go.”

Eric stared at him in confusion before his expression shifted into one of anger.

“Free to go? Then why did you bring me here, Kevin?”

“One last show? Perhaps breaking up in front of everyone will be our closing curtain.”

Kevin knew that wasn’t what he wanted. But what he wanted didn’t matter. He needed to salvage his remaining reputation and perhaps remove this stain.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Kevin avoided looking at Eric.

“Kevin. Kevin, look at me and tell me that none of this was real. If you truly believe that it all was nothing but a performance, then I’ll leave you alone.”

Kevin clenched his jaw and turned to look at Eric, as requested, eyes narrowed.

“I’m straight. I did this because I had to.” Kevin knew how to lie, that was for sure. He knew how to put up a front.

“That isn’t answering my question, Kevin,” Eric snapped as he stepped closer, until he was standing in front of him. “You can’t lie and pretend that you didn’t feel anything.” Kevin could tell that Eric was now getting desperate.

Kevin was cornered and panicking. He had allowed himself to not think about what this whole ordeal had meant, but now he was forced to consider the endless possibilities. He wasn’t sure if he could do that.

“I’m not lying, Eric. If you want us to keep pretending for whatever reason until we are back at Palmetto, then we can do that. But it means nothing.”

It was as if Kevin’s mouth moved on its own, words coming out without him controlling them. He was so used to brushing people off, being distant, that the moment he had to face his own emotions, emotions for another person, he got defensive.

Eric looked into Kevin’s eyes as if looking for the truth there, and so Kevin looked away.

“Perhaps this was a waste of our time after all.”

As Eric left the restroom, Kevin ran his fingers through his hair and slumped against the counter, the tightness in his chest suffocating him.

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leossmoonn · 3 years

Note

hi can i have a stefan x fem reader fluff ig? idk stefan has been living in my mind rent free i miss him so much lol😌

yes 🥰

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masterlist

imagine - having your first offical date w stefan! (fem!reader)

note - this wasn't meant to be a blurb in the first place, but this is like super long. i got kinda carried away.. like 3.2k words...... enjoy :

“Oh, you look so cute!” Caroline squealed. She jumped on her heels in excitement, standing back to look at her work.

You were going on a date tonight with the very handsome, very mysterious Stefan Salvatore. He had been in town for a few months, and while you knew all about vampires and witches, you never actually had a chance to talk to him one-on-one. There were many occasions where you had to save your best friends, and you had to work with him. From what you gathered by working with him he was kind, smart, funny, and extremely handsome. You were very surprised he asked you out, considering you two never actually spoke to one another.

He had asked you out after Isabel came into town. Amongst all the crazy, there still seemed time to enjoy a nice date out with a nice boy, so you took the chance. There was really no reason to say no, anyways.

You had told your best friends about the date, making them very excited and very pushy in helping you. Caroline, who was the head in all of this help, planned your outfit, makeup, and gave you pointers on what to say and how to act. You felt a little annoyed by her, but you knew she meant well. Plus, she really did dress you in something cute.

You looked in the mirror, seeing yourself in a dark-blue dress and a black belt that went around your waist. The dress was spaghetti-strapped, so you had to wear a black jacket over it. The dress ended just right above your knees, and you had black heels to match. Caroline had insisted on you leaving your hair in its natural state so Stefan could see the real you, but you decided to put it up in your favorite hairstyle. Your makeup was natural, all but the red lipstick on your lips that Caroline also insisted on. You couldn’t help but smile, you loved what she did.

“Thank you, Care,” you smiled. You turned back to your friends, seeing Bonnie and Elena’s faces in big smiles.

“What?” You asked.

“You just... you’ve never been on a date before. I’m so excited for you!” Elena exclaimed.

You chuckled, “I’m excited for me, too. After tonight, I won’t be the friend who hasn't been on a date anymore!”

“Well, I haven't been on a date before,” Bonnie said.

You scoffed, “Uh, yes, you have. You just haven’t had a boyfriend before, which is something I haven’t had, either.”

“Yeah, Elena’s the only one who has had a boyfriend,” Caroline smirked.

Elena rolled her eyes, “Yeah, and we all saw how that worked out.”

You chuckled a little. A knock on the front door got your attention.

“Is that him?” Bonnie asked.

You nodded, suddenly getting nervous. Caroline sensed your nervousness and pulled you into a hug.

“You will do great! He asked you out without even getting to know you, don’t stress,” she said.

“Thanks, Care. I gotta go. I can’t keep him waiting,” you sighed and pulled away.

The girls followed you to the door, making you roll your eyes and try to shoo them away. You opened the door, your anxiety almost immediately disappearing once you saw Stefan.

He was wearing jeans, a grey-fitted shirt and a leather jacket. He had a big smile on his face as he looked at you.

“You look beautiful,” he spoke, looking into your eyes. You looked down at the ground with a shy smile on your face.

“Thank you. You look really, really um, handsome,” you said, bashful.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Are you ready to go?” He held his hand out for you to take.

You lifted your head up, putting your hand out hesitantly and slipping it into his. Tingles ran up from your fingers to your arm as you interlocked hands with his.

“Have fun!” Elena giggled.

“Not too much, though!” Caroline exclaimed.

You looked back, rolling your eyes at them. You went out of your house, shutting the door behind you. Stefan walked you to his car, opening the door for you.

“Wow, and he’s chivalrous,” you teased, stepping into the car.

“Back in my day, women were treated like princesses. Every man did everything for them,” Stefan said.

“Wow, sounds like heaven. I mean, despite all the rights we didn’t have,” you snorted.

Stefan chuckled, “True.”

Stefan got in the driver’s seat, starting the car.

“So, where are you taking me?” You asked. “My house,” Stefan answered.

“Oh, I should’ve put on something more... chill,” you chuckled, looking down at your date attire.

“No, no! This is proper date attire, anyways. I’m cooking for us,” Stefan glanced at you, smiling.

“Woah, I feel so special,” you smiled. “I like to cook for the girls I take out,” Stefan said.

“And do you... take a lot of girls out?” You asked. You started to feel nauseous as you thought of his answer.

“No, honestly. Just whenever I do, I cook,” he shrugged.

You nodded. “When was the last time you had a girlfriend?”

“Um, 1964, I think,” he answered. Your eyes widened, “You waited 45 years?”

“Well, it’s not like I waited to find the right one or anything. I was just never very interested in dating or anything,” he answered honestly.

“What made you change now?” You asked. “Oh, well,” Stefan started. Now it was his turn to be shy.

“Well, first off, you. I know we’ve never talked a lot, but whenever I would see you, I’ve always would think you were pretty. And, Caroline and Damon wouldn’t stop teasing my about my “very apparent crush”,” he explained.

“I never noticed it. Then again, most people are oblivious to those types of things,” you chuckled. “Agreed. But yeah, so, you’re basically my reason.” You smiled, “You know you to make a girl feel special.”

“I try,” Stefan smiled and parked his car the the Salvatore house entrance. Stefan got out, hurrying to open the door for you.

You giggled, “Thank you.”

Stefan hummed a “you’re welcome”.

You two entered the house. You had been here plenty times before, so it wasn’t a big surprise to you. But the kitchen table was.

The table had a white cloth on it, candles, silverware on napkins, and a pretty bouquet of flowers on it. You smiled, “This is so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Stefan said, moving past you to the stove. You went over to him, watching him grab a pan and different ingredients.

“So, what are you making?” You asked. “Ratatouille,” he answered.

You cocked up a brow. “Like from the movie?”

“Yeah,” Stefan smiled.

“Cool,” you smiled.

“Do you mind helping me?” Stefan asked. “Nope. Not at all. I must admit, I like cooking, but I'm really bad,” you chuckled.

“I bet you’re not that bad,” Stefan said. “We’ll see. So, what do you need me to do?” You asked.

“Preheat the oven to 375, please,” he directed.

You nodded and walked over to the oven.

“Now, help me with slicing some vegetables. Which one do you want to slice, eggplant, squash, tomato, or zucchini?” Stefan asked.

“Um, I’ll take the squash,” you said. You went over next to him, taking a knife and placing the eggplant on the cutting board.

“So, what was life like in the 19th century?” You asked.

“Hm, peaceful. Fun, relaxing. Of course, there was a war going on, and vampires running through town,” Stefan said.

“Like Katherine?” You asked. Stefan sighed, “Yeah, like Katherine.”

“What about your childhood?” You asked.

“Um, rough? My mom died when I was little and my dad was always tough on us. We were expected to be men by age 6.”

“Wow, that sounds fun.” Stefan chuckled, “It was. How about you? What was your childhood like?”

“Fun, relaxing, never boring. Well, that was before I met Elena, Caroline, and Bonnie,” you said.

“What was it like before then?”

“Um.. horrible? I had like, no friends,” you chuckled. “I was the weird, book-carrying girl that no one liked and everyone teased. Bonnie and Elena adopted me soon after I was in one of their classes in middle school. I’ve been best friends with them ever since. Granted, I'm more closer with Bonnie and Elena, Caroline was kind of jealous of me I think, but we all are best friends. I couldn’t imagine my life without them.” Stefan smiled, “That’s sweet. Damon was, and well, still is, my best friend, as much as I hate to admit it. We’ve drifted apart. A lot. Ever since we were vampires we have been.”

“Wow. Well, it's nice to at least have someone like that you can ask for help, always. I'm a single child. But, Caroline and Bonnie are like the two sisters I’ve never had. Elena, of course, has Jeremy,” you said. “Who isn't here, but hey, that’s why she has us.”

“That’s nice. Well, wait, now thinking about it, I do have a best friend, other than Damon,” Stefan said.

“Ooh, who?”

“Her name’s Lexi,” he said. “If she’s your best friend, where is she?” You asked.

“In New York. We send emails to each other and whatnot. She’s the one who helps with my bloodlust,” he explained.

“Wow, she sounds really nice,” you smiled. “Yeah, she is. And don’t worry, there is nothing romantic going on there. She just makes me a better person,” he explained.

“That was my next question. Well, I hope I get to meet her someday. She sounds awesome,” you smiled.

“I hope so, too. Hey, maybe I’ll email her and have her come over next time. She's actually very interested in you,” he said.

“Oh, really? She knows about me?” You asked.

“Well, I mean, she asks me all the time if I'm seeing anyone, and I told her I liked you, and well I told you about her,” Stefan blushed.

You giggled, “Well, good to know. I'm even more excited to meet her now.”

“Good, good. I’ll tell her that,” he winked. Your face began to feel warm again and you hid your face from his view.

He had a big smile on his face. He moved over to the stove, turning on the heat and put on a saucepan.

“What happens now, chief?” You asked, settling your hands on your hips.

“Well, now we make the sauce. You mind dicing these bell peppers?” He asked, getting one yellow and one red one out of the fridge.

You nodded, washing your hands and beginning to dice them.

“Do you want some wine?” Stefan asked, holding a wine bottle.

“Sure,” you smiled.

“This is the good stuff. We keep all the good liquor in this cabinet. Don’t tell anyone,” Stefan said.

You nodded, “Lips are sealed.”

Stefan smiled and poured you a glass, setting it next to him. You thanked him, dicing up the bell peppers. Once you were done, you let Stefan take over. He put olive oil in the pan a few minutes before, then put the bell peppers, onion and garlic he was dicing earlier.

“How did you learn how to cook?” You asked.

“Um, kind of just by watching my mom. I learned more by doing jobs and stuff. You know, I can’t be a lazy vampire the whole time, so I went to culinary school. It was a good hobby for me and soon became a fun, creative, and easy thing for me to do. It distracted me a lot from the bloodlust and family, too,” he explained.

“Culinary school, huh? That’s really cool,” you said.

Stefan chuckled. “Thanks .”

You hummed in reply. You two talked more about your childhoods, interests, what you want to do after high school. After a few minutes of the vegetables sautéing, you had put the veggies that you had sliced up into a pattern in the pan. Stefan put the pan in the oven, setting the timer.

“So, what do we do now?” You asked. “Well, we could drink more wine and talk or, we can drink more wine and I can give you a house tour,” he said.

“Ooh, I want house tour!” You exclaimed.

“Alright. Follow me, m’lady,” Stefan said, holding his arm out for you.

You giggled, “Don’t mind if I do, kind sir.” You wrapped your arm around his, your hand intertwining with his. Your other hand held the wine glass that he had refilled.

“So, that’s the kitchen, as you saw. This is the living room, and the Salvatore study is on the other side. You’ve already seen those, though, so let’s go upstairs.”

You nodded, walking with him up the stairs.

“So, over here are a few guest bedrooms. This is Damon’s room,” Stefan said, opening the door a little. You peeked into it, your eyes widening.

“Wow. Never knew Damon was such an alcoholic,” you snorted, pulling your head back.

“All vampires are, honestly. We’re basically immortal so, you know, no liver disease or anything for us,” Stefan said.

“Wow, lucky. I mean, I don’t drink much anyways. I usually just have one beer at every party I go to. I don’t like the taste of cheap beer,” you explained.

“Wow, I may have just found the perfect woman,” Stefan teased.

You giggled, “Yeah, my friends think I'm too picky, but you know, if I’m gonna drink, I wanna drink the good stuff.”

“Exactly! See, I understand you, don’t worry,” Stefan smiled.

You smiled, leaning into him a little as he led the way down the hall. You put your head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth that he was exhibiting. You liked how you felt while being close to him, too. You felt safe, comforted. At home.

He looked down at you, smiling. “Here are a few more guest rooms, and here is my room,” he said.

“Can we go in?” You asked.

Stefan nodded, opening the door. You stepped in the room, looking over everything.

His bed at across the room, against the wall. He had his desk in the middle of the room, a bunch of books on it. He had a couch next to his bed and a few other chairs around the room, too. There was a huge bookshelf with lots of other books and other decorative objects.

“Wow. your room is huge,” you said.

“Yep,” Stefan said, standing in the doorway.

You went over to his bed, taking a seat. Stefan went over and took a seat next to you.

“This is a... wow,” you said, bouncing on the bed slightly. “This is a comfortable bed. Where did you get this mattress?”

“Um... I’m not sure,” Stefan chuckled.

“Ugh, I am jealous,” you smiled. “I wish I could sleep here.”

“Maybe you can if we continue uh, going on dates and stuff,” Stefan said.

You turned to him, smiling big. “I’d like that.”

Stefan smiled at you, putting his hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb up and down on your cheekbone lightly. Your stomach did flips and your whole body became warm from his touch. You saw him leaning in and you started to get nervous. You had never kissed anyone before. Well, you have, but your first kiss was just a peck. And you had a feeling that this wasn’t gonna be just a peck.

You leaned in, too, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. Unfortunately, that didn’t work. Stefan’s face got closer and you felt his lips brush on yours with feathery-light pressure. Your body jolted back, your eyes going wide.

Stefan looked at you, worried.

“Did I... did I do something wrong?” He asked.

You started to blush profusely. “No,” you shook your head. “I just um... the feeling really was new and surprising to me.”

Stefan smiled, “Yeah, kisses with the right person are like that.”

“You didn’t even kiss me, though,” you chuckled.

“Do you want me to?” Stefan asked, looking into your eyes.

You smiled and nodded slowly, scooting closer to him. Stefan put his hand on your face again. bringing his lips to yours. He kissed you and your whole brain exploded. You saw bright colors as you kissed him back, loving the feeling he gave you. His lips were soft and warm, and were really really good at kissing. They kissed you back slowly, softly. He was going gentle on you, which was something you appreciated immensely. Your hands went up to his neck, wanting him closer.

You pulled away for air, though, your eyes meeting his instantly. You went back to your flustered and shy behavior, looking away from him and biting your lip in excitement. Stefan couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were.

The oven beeped downstairs, singling that the ratatouille was done. He took your hand, pulling you up.

“Hungry?” He asked.

You smiled, “Very.”

You two walked back downstairs. You set two glasses and poured wine in them while Stefan took out the pan. He put the food on two dishes, mixing up a salad and getting some dinner rolls.

You went over to him, getting your plate and setting it down on the plate by your chair. Stefan brought over the rest of the food, sitting down with you.

“Dig in,” Stefan smiled.

You did as he said, groaning at how amazing the food tasted.

“You are... ugh, amazing. God. What can’t you do?” You asked.

Stefan smiled. “Um... I can’t bake.”

You scoffed, “Everyone can bake. Sorry, Stefan, you're perfect.”

Stefan smiled, “Nope, that’s you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smiled.

“Yeah,” he smiled bigger and nodded.

You blushed profusely again. “I think the wine is catching up to us.”

“Hm, maybe. But you asked,” Stefan smiled. You laughed, “I did.” You two ate and talked a little more about your hobbies. After a third glass of wine, you decided that it was time for you to go. So, Stefan went and drove you home. The drive home was silent, but comfortable. Stefan had asked to put a hand on your thigh, to which you smiled and granted him access to. His touch made you warm and fuzzy inside, which was something you would be able to experience again with him.

Stefan got to your house, walking you up the the door.

“I had an amazing time,” you smiled.

“I did, too,” Stefan smiled.

You took his hands in yours, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back for a few moments before you two pulled away for air.

“I’ll call you, uh, later,” you said.

“Alright. I’ll be waiting. Have a good night, Y/n,” Stefan smiled.

You smiled back at him. “I will. See you tomorrow.” You unlocked your door, going inside your house.

“You, too,” Stefan smiled, watching you close the door with a big smile.

You shut the door behind you, putting your back to the door, seeing Elena, Caroline, and Bonnie in your living room.

“So, how was it?” Bonnie asked.

“I think I’m in love.”

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partnersatfazbear · 3 years

Text

Fazbear Frights: What We Found Analysis

Here’s my analysis for What We Found, the third story in Gumdrop Angel. I wrote this as I read so it may be a little different than my previous analysis where I read the story first and went back.

If you’re a Michael Afton fan I highly recommend this. Also, there’s possibly some insight into William Afton, Mrs. Afton, and Henry too, so it’s worth a skim.

Pg 144 '...a place thirty-some years forgotten' Just reconfirming FNAF 3 is 30 years past *one* of the FNAF closings, presumably FNAF 2 location.

Pg 145 "The whole building was giving him [Hudson] a headache." FIX THE VENTILATION BRUH

Pg 148 '...they were able to use salvaged derelict equiptment original to the old pizzerias.' Another confirmation of something we heard from Phone Guy.

Pg 147 "How old are you?" "Twenty-three, same as you." I think this gives us Michael's age during FNAF 3.

EDIT: This kept me awake last night. Obviously this is impossible because he has to be alive for at least 10 years before 1983, BUT maybe its just reconfirming FNAF 3′s year? 2023?

Pg 149 "Hudsan's dad died and his mom married Lewis, a ridiculous balding man who wore plaid vests and smoked a pipe" Did... Did this book just seriously imply Mrs. Afton left William for Henry? Really? (Yes, there's differences; the husband is dead and the man wears plaid 'vests' but it seems very odd to include that detail. This could just have been the writer's own imagination, though.) I have seen this as a fan theory and 100% explains the jealousy aspect of William, but I can't help but kinda hate it. I think this is very important, though, and probably Scott's intention. "This horrible little man [Lewis]... would make Hudson's next ten years a living Hell" This REALLY intrigues me given the context I just went over. The text implies Lewis was fairly neglectful to our main character / Michael stand-in Hudson. Maybe I'm wrong and for some reason Mrs. Emily left and went to William? XD Haha, I'm reading too much into this page. Maybe I'll come back to this later. I figure it's more of Scott possibly including double-details (contradicting stuff with the same character that really applies to two, which has been something I heavily pointed out in previous anaylsis on this blog) Having said that, I'm going w/the former because I can't imagine Henry being abusive (neglectful yes, abusive no) and he's never been portrayed that way in official works like William has in the novels.

Pg 150 "Hudson began to screw up in class...a product of spending the night in fear that his stepfather [Lewis]... [would] beat him just for the fun of it." Ooof. Big confirm on William actually being abusive. Unless we stick with the Henry theory for Lewis (combined with Midnight Motorist Henry theory / alcoholic). "...near-daily beatings..." "his mom started taking pills to get through the day..." So, whoever Mrs. Afton is, she was definetly not paying attention. But then, most people married to serial killers either don't notice because of denial (like this) or because the killer is so manipulative / careful they can't notice.

"Barry, who had red hair and freckles..." Yo?! Is that a description of Fritz?! These friends in the story could be the other kids Michael knew's stand-in's, aka the two gravestones with names he used (Fritz and Jeremy), as shown in the checks for the games and FNAF 6. I've long figured Michael was probably friends with the victims--it makes them easier, although riskier, targets [for William]. The two friends are male, too, like Fritz and Jeremy. If you're curious about Duane's description (our stand in for Jeremy), it's "tight black shirt... muscles... black hair long enough for a glossy ponytail..." I'm not sure if this matches anything found in the novels or contradicts them, though. (The novels = TSE trilogy)

"And so it went... until the night of the fire." For context, this is before FF burns down. We're learning of Hudson's life from his close friends in childhood, his father's death, his mother remarrying, to his abusive stepfather, to his grades slipping to this line. This would be a new fire not seen/mentioned in the games...

Pg 151 "...go to Charlie's for a sundae..." Really. Really Scott. Just gonna use this name again. OK. I'm not even gonna discuss this because it's probably irrelevant. *This is confirmed on pg 158 to be an ice cream shop. No lore relevance aside the annoying name coincidences Scott loves to troll with.

"This is not... an advance into enemy territory, a fight with demons, or a descent into Hell..." Uh, what? What is Hudson talking about? XD I'm only noting it because it seems so out of place. He's probably talking about video games or something.

Another note, although I don't have a specific reference since it is mentioned off-hand many times, is that Hudson keeps referring to his "history" which is implied to have kept him from getting a well-paying job and a girl he's crushing on doesn't know this "history" which is good for him. Seems good old "Michael Stand-In" has done some jail time or something. Edit: On pg 154/155 the girl asks Hudson, "Did you do it?" Seems he may have killed his stepfather or been involved with something else just as bad. Edit 2: No, I was thinking too deep into it. This probably refers to Evan's death at Fredbear's. DUH.

Pg 156 describes an actual "prize corner" in FF! What am I even reading? IIRC this is in FNAF 3, too. So they just hand out these scary gift boxes to people that complete the attraction? (Hudson says he *would* have fun handing out the scary toys to kids when this location opens--kind of a bully thing to do, eh?)

"[Hudson] avoid[ed] glancing in any of the mirrors..." I'm only pointing this out because it could be reference to one of two things. 1) We know because of one of UCN's music tracks, William has a fear of his reflection. Michael probably shares this trait, especially since 2) after Ennard and all... and later on pg 157 it also says, "he never wanted to face: himself" Sounds like guilt, my guy.

Pg 157 "blonde hair... blue eyes..." Hudson shares an eye color with Michael. It's possible Michael had blonde hair as a child and it changed to brown (it's common, something I personally went through being technically blonde/ blue eyed myself)

"He [Hudson] knew from personal experience that toys could turn from fun...to torture ina heart-beat" Fairly self explanatory. Either Hudson's worked at a creepy location before or he doesn't like remembering Fredbear's.

*checks how much is left.* There's still 35 pages (not counting back/front) left of this... This is gonna be a lot of notes.

Pg 158 Hudson doesn't have a car. Poor Mike, probably having to walk everywhere. Especially as a corpse.

Pg 160 This page describes many physical issues Hudson has that prevents him from entering the Navy, all from the abuse of Lewis. Obvious paralell to Michael becoming an undead [because his father sent him to CBPR indirectly causing his condition]

Pg 161 "How's your granny, Hud?... ...Is she still alive?" "I don't think she can die." Does anyone in the Afton family really 'die'? XD

Pg 162 These few pages discuss Hudson's grandmother. She's described as "a seer who claimed to know the future... ...wore big men's plaid flannel shirts with baggy jeans" Um, more plaid / flannel? AGH. STAHP. Lowkey, I would totally headcanon my Aunt Jen like this, though.

Pg 163 "Hudson's mom... the way she was before Hudson's dad had died... never... particularly warm and fuzzy... but... effiencient and responsible..." More about Mrs. Afton, so that's kinda neat.

"Hudson's dad was fun and attentive." There's a good Dad in this series?

"Unfortunetly, he also struggled with mental illness." "invisible low points" (Pg 164) Kinda reminds me of how Henry is described after Charlotte's death in the books.

Pg 164 "When Steven got himself into a bad deal that cost him his small business... he'd taken his life." Oh, it is Henry! SMH. Way to use confusing paralells. So, from our understanding thus far, Hudson's real father, Steven, is our Henry stand-in. His step-father despite being described similar to Henry, is actually our William stand-in. Fair game, Scott.

Pg 164 "...he [Hudson] was locked into a supply closet..." Oh shit, you guys. So, let me go on a tangent here, because this IS important! I just watched a retrospective on Sister Location and FNAF 6 earlier and one theory for Midnight Motorist was the person in the chair was the mother and the kid was Michael. I think this little line may confirm that. In fact, the story may be the key to figuring things out. Obviously, the line is a paralell to FNAF 4's scene in which Crying Child was locked in the supply closet of Fredbear's. I know some people, including Matpat, believe[d] CC was Michael, and in this book's context, it sort of works. This does contradict Step Closer and 1000 other things that make Michael the older brother, but maybe it's hinting at MM? Abusive stepdad (possibly Henry... maybe William is gone at this point), checked out Mom (hey, grey couch lady with Foxybro's font). IDK, but its definetly something to think about.

Pg 165 Lewis is mentioned as calling Hudson "nothing" and saying "you're nothing" on several occasions on this page. Just more abuse, for those accurate fanfic writers like me. Also I kinda wanna watch Morel Orel again. Yall know my fav character is Clay. Yall know.

"You're smoke." <-- Lewis / The text later reads, "...there was some irony, given what eventually happened." BRUH. Why did your stepdad die in a fire? :V TELL ME.

"When his family's house burned down at the end of his senior year..." Huh. Is there a fire we don't know about in the game-verse? Could this explain what happened to the FNAF 4 house before MM house?!

"...it purged Hudson of Lewis and his mother." MRS. AFTON BURNED ALIVE, TOO? Bruh. I can't with this story.

The text later describes the fire is concluded to be man-made and Hudson was blamed for it. Can't say if this ties to Michael, but it IS interesting... TBF, there is a small paralell to draw between Henry in FNAF 6 and his history of suicide in the books, too.

Pg 166 "...this place's [FF] busted thermostat.." I just find this line funny.

Pg 167 "...after three weeks of keeping an eye on the place" Some more timeline context for FNAF 3. We know that Michael worked there a little while before we start playing the game thanks to one of the phone calls, IIRC, so this makes sense. If Michael was accused of [something] and also wanting to hunt down his father, then it makes perfect sense why he's working a dead end job at Freddy's over and over and over. Fun fun fun.

Pg 169 "He hated to think about a functional character [Foxy]" This line is in regards to Hudson not liking the set up of Pirate's Cove and Foxy's hook to scare people. Sounds familiar, don't it? (For Michael anyway.)

Pg 173 "Some big find is arriving tomorrow." SPRINGY BOI! COME ON BOOK, get on with the show?

Pg 176 "Granny was wearing a red-and-green plaid shirt and her baggy jeans." Nothing special, but it was specifically brought up twice. I'm kind of racking my brain trying to understand what the point of this character is outside of "woooo everything is haunted don't you know that" kind of character.

Pg 180 "...dropped the crate on the linoleum with a resounding thud." HEY. Poor Springtrap, just gettin' tossed around like the trash he is.

Pg 186 "If you weren't so stupid, I'd tell you more about it." Springtrap bringing the burn. =:)

"A voice with a burr-like rasp...hint of a Southern accent" I'm going to assume this is because it's Lewis probably in the suit in this story and not our old British lad.

"It's was Mr. Atkin's voice." THE MATH TEACHER? *goes back to check* 'The algebra teacher'. Okay...

Pg 190 Okay, so Hudson hear's Lewis' voice this time. Okay, I get it now. Springtrap in this kind of imbodies all of Hudson's old bullies, including the teacher. He also has PTSD, just FYI. IDK if anyone finds that important, but it's fairly obvious by the line "He wasn't in his bedroom. Lewis didn't just slam his head into a desk; his head had been slammed into the [arcade] game."

"Why did he hallucinate a scene from his childhood?" Oh, it's not PTSD, then. It's just the VENTILATION ERROR. lol Okay.

Just a note, as I'm reading through the more action-based stuff, I kind of feel bad for Michael if he had flashbacks like this guy. They're intense.

So, Lewis' voice finally comes out of Springtrap on Pg 213. There's that.

Pg 220 "You can just stay there [in his room]" Kind of a paralell to Midnight Motorist. Lewis is saying it to Hudson. I really feel like the kid in the MM game is Michael because of this story...

Pg 223 "Heat purges. Fire heals." I'm sure that's Henry's life motto.

The ending was stupid, but most in these stories are. Hudson is hallucinating and is implied to have burned himself alive in FF's oven. Meh? The first half of this one is A TRIP and a little insight into what I 100% believe is Michael's childhood. I think the saddest part of it all is that we never got Springtrap speaking to Michael in FNAF 3--and if it's ever remade I hope we get more of them interacting.

#fazbear frights #fnaf spoilers #spoilers #what we found #michael afton #springtrap #fnaf theories #fnaf theory #fnaf 3 #midnight motorist #mrs. afton #henry emily

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 4 years

Text

Hate to love you

Summary: Walter Marshall seemed to hate you since the first time you stepped into the police department. But when you found his daughter sitting on your desk one morning, and began to spend time with her, he seemed to warm up to you.

Pairing: Walter Marshall / F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.926

Warnings: smut

A/N: This is based on a request: can you maybe write walter marshall smut one shot where the reader is his new coworker and at the beginning they hate each other but then he sees how good the reader is with his daughter and falls for her?

Masterlist

Taglist:

@ladyreapermc / @theolsdalova / @greenmanalishi / @itsmydreamlifethings / @palaiasaurus64 / @celestial-vomit / @penwieldingdreamer/ @its-jb86 / @notyourtypicalrose / @babypink224221 / @blahdragonageblah / @alexakeyloveloki / @fanficsrusz / @solariumss / @starlite13 / @ly--canthrope / @mytbel0st / @mrrightismrreeves / @oddsnendsfanfics / @ravenpuff02 / @sofiebstar / @chamomilebottom / @keiva1000 / @agniavateira / @peaceinourtime82 / @dearlybelovedluke / @diehadess /@mis-lil-red / @watermeloncavill / @mary-ann84 / @siriussnape07 / @desperate-and-broken

“What did I do now?” You asked sighing, looking up at the grim face of Walter Marshall. You had started working at the police department only a couple weeks ago and for some reason the both of you seemed to push all of each other’s buttons with just looking at each other.

“I need all of these looked through and marked if there are similarities.” He sighed, throwing a bunch of files on your desk, his fingers on the bridge of his nose. He looked tired. Not that you cared.

“On it. Gonna do that first thing in the morning.” You said, pushing off your chair and grabbing your coat.

“No. I need that now. There’s a murderer on the loose…” he said, urgency in the voice.

“I know that, and I would do that but my mom is at the hospital and I need to go and see her before her surgery tomorrow.” You said, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you looked up at him. He glared at you, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

“First thing tomorrow.” He finally agreed.

“Wouldn’t have stayed here even if you begged me in your knees, Marshall.” You grinned sweetly up at him before you turned around and left.

A girl was sitting at your desk when you got in early the next morning. Frowning you stepped closer.

“Uhm. I am pretty sure you’re too young to join the police.” You said. The girl looked up at you, long dark locks framing her face.

“My dad would never let me join the police anyway.” She rolled her eyes, making you chuckle.

“What are you doing here then?” You sat down on your desk.

“School is canceled for today and my mom had to work, so Dad took me with him. Because a thirteen year old can’t be trusted alone at home.” She sighed exhausted.

“It’s not easy being a teenager.” You said.

“Tell ME about it.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“So what is your plan for the rest of the day?” You asked.

“Don’t know. Can’t even log into the WiFi here because dad refused to give me the password.”

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Faye Marshall.” She answered.

“As in grump… uhm Walter Marstall?” You asked, making her giggle.

“Exactly like grumpy Marshall.”

“Well, Faye. Do you want to help me find a murderer?” You asked, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

It was almost three hours in when you felt like someone was watching you. You had given Faye the files that had to be checked for the same locations. It were so many files you were almost glad you had a little help.

“And what are you doing here?” You heard Marshall’s voice.

“We’re doing important police work dad, leave us.” Faye said, not even looking up at him. You sucked both of your lips in as you looked up at him. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“That better be not the red files I gave you to check.” He said.

“Sure. I gave your teenage daughter the red files to check. Next up she’s going to sort the evidence chamber. Who do you think I am?” You shook your head disbelieving.

He rolled his eyes.

“Is it okay if I leave her with you? There’s a suspect…”

“It’s fine. Lunch is on you though.” You said. He nodded and turned around to leave.

“Thank you.” He said over his shoulder before he was out of the door.

It turned out that Faye would be off school for the entire week. Which meant that she became kind of your shadow. Not that you minded. You liked the girl. She reminded you of your niece who you only saw twice a year because she was living so far away.

During the week you had her help you with everything that wasn’t too intense. You had lunch together every day and today, on the last day, Marshall even joined you.

“And you still want to join the police?” He asked Faye.

“Yes. If it’s only half as cool as this week. You’re so cool.” She said looking at you.

You heard Marshall chuckle.

“Wow you must have really impressed her. She’s bored to death when I tell her about work.”

“That’s because you are always so dramatic dad.” Faye rolled her eyes. You chuckled looking at him and could see the hint of a smile on his face.

“Dad did you know that she has never been to Jeremys?” Faye asked.

“Yeah what is this Jeremys Faye insisted i had to try?” You asked.

“They have the best burgers in the city.” Marshall explained.

“You should take her Dad. She’s cool.” Faye said.

“Yeah. She is.” He said, looking at you. And for a moment there was something in his eyes you couldn’t name. But it made your breath hitch.

“Okay. I have to go. My mom is getting out of the hospital today.” You smiled, already getting up from the table.

“See you Faye.” You waved at her.

Marshall walked you to the door of the cafeteria.

“Thank you for this week. You saved my ass.” He said. Smiling shyly you shrugged.

“No problem at all. She’s a bright young woman. You should listen more to her. She’s…”

“The best thing that happened to me.” He said how fully smiling.

“Hey so… do you have anything planned tomorrow?” He asked. Frowning you shook your head.

“Not really. It’s Saturday so the usual…”

“Can I take you out to dinner?” He asked, catching you by surprise.

“As a thank you for this week.” He added. You looked at him thinking that if he would smile like this more often, he wouldn’t look so grumpy.

“Pick me up at 7?” You asked.

“Sure.” He grinned.

“I thought you hated me.” You whimpered, feeling him pull down your pants. He had picked you up at 7 sharp, looking straight out of a movie with his dark jeans and dark dress shirt tucked in his pants. He had even trimmed his beard, his eyes looking warmly at you. Marshall had taken you to Jeremys and you had to admit that the burger you had was one of the best you had ever had.

And some time during your night out, Marshall the grumpy detective became Walter. The guy who made you laugh and who looked at you like you were the only person in the room. He had kissed you good night and at the first contact of his lips on yours you had decided that you wouldn’t ever be able to live without it.

Walter who was right now kissing up your leg, his big hand sneaking under your shirt.

“I didn’t hate you.” He said.

“Well I hated you.” You huffed, giggling when he tickled your side.

“I really didn’t.” His face was above yours, his fingers running down your jaw.

“I see woman like you come in every year. Thinking the world is at their feet. But I was wrong in my first impression.” He cupped your cheek. You let your hands wander into his soft hair.

“You’re exactly the opposite of the impression I first had of you.” He bend down to kiss you softly.

“And Faye practically dared me to ask you out and she hates ever single woman I ever went out with.” He chuckled.

“That smile really does wonders to your grumpy face.” You smiled up at him. Your hand running down his back to pull the shirt out, quickly opening the buttons to push it off his shoulders. You leaned up, kissing his chest, inhaling his manly scent.

He pushed you shirt up, leaving you in only your underwear beneath him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, kissing you, his lips wandering down your throat, stopping in the Valley of your breasts. He looked up at you, as if to ask if you were okay. Nodding at him you bit your lip when he pushed the cups of your bra down, his thumbs teasing your nipples until the nips hardened. Only then did he lean down to close his mouth around one of them, flickering his tongue, making you arch your back against him, your hands buried in his hair as you quietly moaned his name.

You pushed against his chest, making him kneel on your bed as you reached for his belt, opening it, your hands pushing his pants down. Biting your lip you reached for his cock, not even surprised by his length, stroking it slowly as you looked up at him. His hands went to your back, opening your bra. Both of his hands palming your breasts, making him hum.

“Perfect.” He mumbled. One of his hands left your breasts, going straight between your legs, finding you soaked. Breathing out with a huff you looked up at him as he bend down, kissing you deeply as he slowly pushed you down to lay in your back. He shrugged his pants off, reaching for your panties as you brought your legs up, pulling them off.with your legs resting against his chest he looked down at you, his hands holding your ankles to his chest.

The anticipation of him filling you to the brim nearly killed you. Gasping as he kissed your ankle, you bit your lip as he slowly parted your legs, leaning down so his chest brushed over your nipples.

You felt his cock poking against your folds, making you moan. He reached down to stroke his cock through your folds.

“Usually I’d prepare you but fuck I wanna be inside of you..” he groaned, lining your cock up at your entrance.

“Just fuck me Walter.” You sighed, moaning when he slowly pushed in. You felt every inch of him as he worked himself into you. He rubbed circles on your clit, relaxing you more, making you take him completely.

“Fuck…” You gasped when he was buried inside of you, your arms holding on to his back. He looked at you, his face concentrating on you.

“Move… please.” You whispered.

Slow and deep he set a pace, making you whimper against him. One of his hands behind your neck pulling you towards him to kiss you. Moaning against his lips as he thrusted harder, you rolled your hips to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck…” You moaned as he flickered your clit more harshly. Warmth pooled in your lower belly, your climax building.

“Fuck…” he groaned as your walls squeezed him when your orgasm washed over you, his names on your lips as he kept thrusting into you.

“So fucking tight…. gonna cum…” he groaned, pulling out of you, spilling his cum on your stomach. Catching your breath you looked at each other.

“I will still hate you at work.” You said after a while, making him chuckle.

“As long as I get to punish you when we’re alone after work, I’m okay with that.” He grinned.

“Punish me?” You asked, narrowing your eyes. Nodding he reached for your hands, pulling you to knee in front of him. You felt his cum running down your body.

“Wanna find out?” He asked with a mischievous grin.

“God yes.” You sighed, shrieking when he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom.

#fanfic #fanfiction #request #walter marshall #henry cavill #walter marshall x reader

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter four

~|Emily Fox|~

“Guess what I did this weekend?” I ask Madison excitedly when I see her at her locker on Monday morning. She stares at me, blinking a few times. She did not expect me to be this excited on Monday morning. “You rode an elephant?” she asks when she realizes I won’t continue until she guesses. “Don’t ever ride elephants. They’re not made to do that,” I tell her off, “No, I finished writing my song!” Madison’s eyes widen before an excited squeal leaves her mouth. Now we’re getting weird looks from other students, wondering why the hell we’d be so excited on Monday morning. “Let me hear!” she shouts loudly, but I quickly dim the fire inside her eyes by shaking my head. “I still need to tweak it a little, but I think it might actually have potential,” I say. Madison pouts. “I’m sorry, Mads. I promise you, I’ll let you hear it once I pick up the courage to ask someone to duet this with me.” “Like on TikTok?” she asks, visibly confused. “No, I think it might sound better as a duet. I sang like part of it with this Charlie dude at the Music Store.” Madison’s eyebrows rise whilst her eyes widen. “Who’s Charlie?” she asks, the bell nearly ringing out her voice. The two of us make our way to class together. “The Cute Douchebag I told you about?” “You never said he was cute…” “I’m telling you now. He kept coming back to play this one guitar in the store to escape from his parents and I let him while I cleaned up the place. And then on Saturday, he suddenly started singing this verse that fit perfectly what I already had. It sounded amazing, Mads. Our voices blend really, really well together.” I take in a deep breath and release it into a sigh. “Mmh… Cute Douchebag Charlie serenades you and you turn it into a duet… Sounds like the start of a great Romantic movie,” she thinks about it for a moment, “I’d watch that.” “I’m going to put your feet back on the floor, Madison, because nothing’s ever going to happen between Charlie and me.” I can’t hide the smile tugging at my lips though, and I think Madison has seen it too as one of the corners of her mouth curls up into a smirk. “Mmh-mmh…” she hums and before I can bring anything else in, she dips into her classroom, leaving me all alone to find my way to the room next door where I have my first class. Let’s pray today goes by fast. Which only works by constantly imagining what it would be like to show Charlie the song I wrote with his verse added to it and what it would be like if we sung it together. I wonder if he’ll be at the store tonight and if he is, do I immediately tell him I’ve finished the song? Or do I wait until I’ve perfected it? Or do I—I can’t even finish my thought when the bell rings, signaling lunch time. Halfway through.

“Dreaming about mister Cutie Pie?” Madison’s voice startles me as I stand in line for lunch. “Hell, Madi. Give me a heart attack, why don’t you?” She gives me her most mischievous grin. “So, you’re not denying that you were dreaming about mister Cutie Pie?” “No,” she raises her eyebrows, “I mean, no I wasn’t dreaming about him because he’s still a douchebag.” I take a sandwich from the canteen lady. “A very cute Douchebag,” Madison wiggles her eyebrows. “How do you know he’s cute?” I ask as we move towards the fridges for some soda. “You told me. And I found him on Instagram.” She reaches in her bag for her phone whilst we head towards the table we always sit at. “How did you find him on Instagram?” I ask her, sitting down and taking the phone from her to look at his photos. Some of them look really cool and artsy, most of them with his guitar, whether that be electric or acoustic. “I checked the Music Store’s Instagram and looked through their followers and found about fifteen Charlies, but none of them as cute as this one.” I glance up at the handle at the top of his page. Charles_Gillespie. Gillespie? That’s a very unique last name. “You should be in the FBI, Mads,” I tell her and find myself scrolling through all of his pictures. “I mean, it’s no rocket science, babes,” she shrugs off her FBI-abilities. I shake my head at her, and then deep-dive into the wondrous world of Charlie Gillespie’s Instagram. Those eyes. They seem more golden in real life than they do in the pictures on here. And that smile. In one photo, he has like a really lazy smile on his face, but it looks so freakishly adorable that I nearly melt on the spot. “Someone has a crush!” Madison sings into my ear. “I do not,” I sound way more offended than I intended to. “Okay, fine. You do not. But when you stop being in denial, I’ll be here to tell you ‘told you so’,” Madison tells me sassily. I so want to say something to that, but I’m stumped. And too distracted by Charlie’s Instagram. I’m so distracted I even forget to eat and only leaves me with five minutes left to eat an entire sandwich. I shake my head at myself, disgusted by my own thoughts. This boy.

“Heading to work?” Madison asks me when she meets me at my locker after the final bell. “Yep, have to lock up again and work on my song,” I tell her, shutting my locker and shouldering my bag. “Do you think he’ll be there again?” I chuckle, “It would surprise me if he wasn’t. He’s been at the store every day since the day I met him.” Madison raises her eyebrows again. That’s how she looks at me a lot lately. “Someone has a crush on you.” That mischievous grin appears on her face again, and it just makes me shake my head disapprovingly, but I can’t help but smile too. The thought of him having a crush on me disgusts me and makes me feel all giddy inside at the same time. “Yeah, sure,” I say, “See you tomorrow, Madi,” I wave at her, leaving her behind at the school to make my way to the Music Store, where, to no surprise of mine, I find Charlie at the guitars again. He doesn’t even notice me walking in. “There’s only one customer left,” Ash tells me, “He’s been here a lot, hasn’t he?” “What? No? This surely is the first time I see him,” I reply, not being able to hide the sarcasm. “Just lock up when you’re done,” she says throwing me the keys before hopping across the counter. She’s the only person who could ever do that so smoothly. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she yells over her shoulder and rushes away before I can come up with a good comeback. Completely leaving Charlie to his devices, I begin sweeping up the place. Scattered sheet music goes back in its place, dropped food wrappers are being picked up and thrown away, misplaced instruments go back into their place. I’m nearly done when I hear Charlie cough behind me. “Ah, Charles. Didn’t see you there,” I say when I turn around to face him. “Well, yeah… People tell me I can be very quiet,” he replies awkwardly. I hardly believe that. He’s the most obnoxious person I have ever met. “I wanted to ask; did you finish that song we sang the other day? I really liked it and I thought maybe if you’d finished it, we could sing it together?” My eyes widen at the mention of the song. Should I tell him the truth? “Uhm, no, I haven’t finished it yet.” The lie rolls off my lips before I can stop it. “Great! I actually had this idea for a verse last night,” he reaches into the pocket of his skinny jeans and a piece of folded up paper appears. “I think it would sound good as a bridge.” He unfolds the paper as he says it and then places it on top of the piano wing, reaching just past me. I get a whiff of his deodorant and aftershave. A blend of minty fresh and musky undertones. I realize it’s my favorite scent in the world. “I feel your rhythm in my heart, yeah You are my brightest, burning star, woah-woah I never knew a love so real We're heaven on earth, melody and words When we are together we're” He looks up at me every now and again when he’s singing. And all it does is cause hurricanes in my mind and the rhythm of my heart quickening. “And then it goes back into the chorus you wrote,” he finishes, breaking our eye contact once again. “Because, you know, that was really good.” He awkwardly coughs again. His eyes pleadingly looking up at me from underneath the strands of hair. That’s when I realize he isn’t wearing the beanie I’ve seen him with so many times. His brown locks lay messily across his head, but it creates a rougher look, which works for him. “Yeah, okay, thanks, Charles,” I say, recomposing and returning to the tougher façade I’m used to putting up around him. “You done? I need to clean up.” I point around the room to emphasize my lie. The room is entirely clean, I just need to get out of the situation. “Why are you pushing this away, Emily?” The question takes me aback a bit. “It’s obvious we’re supposed to write this song together. With both our ideas and creativity together, we can create so many amazing songs. This is meant to be, Emily. Why can’t you see that?” I’m not entirely sure what he means by ‘meant to be’. We are? Or as a band? Or a singer-songwriter-duo? I don’t even have the time to ask him, because he’s already turned around and making his way to the door. “I write alone,” I tell him quickly, causing him to freeze with his hand on the doorknob. He looks back at me with those pleading puppy eyes. “So, whatever you think is meant to be, it’s not going to happen.” He simply nods his head at that. “Good to know.” For the rest of that night, I wonder if that’s going to be the last I hear of him.

Even Uncle Mitch can tell something’s wrong when I’m in the kitchen making myself some food after my shift. He stares at me with those worried green eyes of his and sits down across from me at the table. “You want to vent?” he simply asks, which he knows is enough for me to break. I take a deep breath, wondering where to begin in this story and what to leave out for my old Uncle’s sake. “There’s this boy—” before I can continue, he jumps up. “Who do I need to chase down?” he tries to sound tough, but Uncle Mitch is the gayest of all the gays. He’s not afraid to show off his more feminine side. But in situations like this, when he pretends to be all tough dad and everything, it’s just kind of endearing. Because that’s not at all who he is. “No one, Uncle Mitch.” He slowly sits back down and lets me continue, propping his head onto his hand, elbow resting on the tabletop. “This boy always comes into the Music Store during my shifts. He either has this excuse to be there, buying picks or strings or polish or whatever, and one night he asked if he could stay and play some guitar whilst I clean up because he wanted to escape his parents,” I take a deep breath, remembering what my parents told me when I said what college I wanted to go to. “I couldn’t say no to that, could I?” Uncle Mitch hums with a small smile on his face. “So then he sang part of a song he wrote and it kind of matched with the song I was writing, so I sang along with him, and then we sang the chorus together and our voices match really well and they blend so beautifully and I bet you would’ve gotten goosebumps, Uncle Mitch,” he chuckles at that, “And today he came up with a bridge for the song and he sang it to me and it was perfect and I kind of shook him off. I should’ve told him how beautiful it was, but I didn’t.” I sniffle, tears pooling in my eyes, and I’m not even sure why. “And then he asked why I pushed him away because we’re meant to write songs together and I don’t disagree with him but…” I trail off as sobs take over my body. “But you can’t write songs with anyone else but your Uncle Bobby,” Uncle Mitch finishes, his voice sounds closer suddenly. When I wipe away the tears, I feel his arms snake around my body. All I can do is place my hands on his, and softly cry as he speaks. “I know it’s hard, Muffin, but you have to know that your Uncle Bobby wouldn’t want you to stop making music. He’d tell you to go for it if he heard how well the two of you work together. I think you know he’d want you to work with this cute boy.” “I never said he was cute,” I chuckle between the sniffles. “You’re crying at the dining table about a boy. If he’s not cute, I don’t know what you’re crying about.” He lets go of me and assesses me from a distance. I look up at him. “He’s cute right?” I nod my head. “I’ve taught you well.” He presses a kiss to my head and makes his way out of the kitchen. “I don’t know what to tell him when I see him again though? If I ever see him again.” “Just make sure your song is finished and show him what you’ve made of it. Then he’ll realize you’ve changed your mind.” I nod my head, taking in all the advice. “And I’m sure you’ll see him again, Muffin. You’re a catch.” He winks at me before completely disappearing out of the kitchen. “It’s creepy when you say that!” I shout after him before turning back to my food. “But it’s not when Cutie from the Music Store says it!” I hear him faintly somewhere in the house. Uncle Mitch is the best person in the entire world. I wouldn’t know what to do with him. Mom and dad wouldn’t know what to tell me in a situation like this. Dad would probably hunt Charlie down and mom would tell me I wasn’t ready for a relationship with a boy. Thank Heaven’s for Uncle Mitch. The light in the darkest dark. He’ll shine bright forever.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle

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#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #charlie gillespie #charlie x oc #jeremy shada #owen joyner #madison reyes #Luke Patterson #reggie jatp #alex jatp #julie molina #oc emily fox

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padfootagain · 3 years

Text

A Very Rose Mistake (VII)

Part 7: How A Mistake Was Made

Here we go for a new chapter!! You're finally going to understand where the title of this series comes from!!

I warn you, this is angsty. The flashback is angsty. Sorry… you'd better get some tissue before diving into this!

I hope you like it all the same! Lots of explanation here again thanks to the flashback! The next chapter will be more about the present days again.

I hope you like this! Don't forget to tell me what you think about it, I most definitely need a little help to write these days!

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 5951 (sorry it's a bit long)

Holmes Chapel, 2011

It was Valentine's Day. He was 17 and his world was changing at a speed he couldn't comprehend.

It was great, for the most part. It was completely crazy, actually: he was making an album. He was going to sing and travel around the world. How mad was that?

When he had left Holmes Chapel, he thought he would be back in a week. Maybe two. It would be a fun thing to discuss with you. How mad it was. How weird the whole experience had been, but let's be honest, he was only 16 and he wasn't mature enough for anything as big as this. He would slip back under his covers in his bedroom, and you would cuddle together while watching stupid videos on youtube that made you have this loud and uncontrollable laughter, and you would hide the bag of chocolates you had smuggled into his room when Anne would climb up the stairs.

But he didn't come home at all.

Instead, he went through the whole show, and after the X-factor was done, he was pushed into London City. It had been almost a year, and you had barely seen him.

It was strange to walk the same streets without him. It was strange to not have him sitting next to you in class anymore. It was strange to not go to his house after school every night and eat with him and Gemma while watching some dumb show on TV. It was strange not having him pushing you around on the way to school whenever you weren't quite awake yet.

And the truth was, it was unbearable almost, the way you missed him.

The hurricane he had been caught into was just as strange for him than it was for you, and he missed you just as much as you missed him.

And this shift in your relationship that had appeared right before he would leave had been on hold ever since.

You had almost kissed that evening. If Anne had not opened the front door right at that moment, you would have kissed. And as he was to leave the next day, he didn't bring the moment you had shared again. He reckoned that he ought to tell you how he felt face to face.

He wasn't quite sure what it meant yet being in love with someone, but he reckoned that if he had to give a definition, he would have given your name as an answer.

He was a little lost, and he wasn't sure of how he felt exactly, because he had never experienced anything like it before, but what he was certain about was that he wanted to explore whatever this was. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to cuddle with you and hold you tight and peck your nose. He wanted to be close to you all the time, it drove him insane.

And when he had been given the opportunity to go home for Valentine's day, he believed in a sign.

You couldn't come to celebrate his birthday in London, so you had promised to spend the weekend with him whenever he would come. And it started tonight.

Harry checked his reflection in the mirror of his old bedroom one last time, straightening the collar of his white shirt under his jersey. A red rose was resting on his bed, and he checked once again that the leaves had not suffered from the lack of water during the past 15 minutes. But they were not wilted, and he looked with satisfaction at the flower.

Romantic. Perfect. Because tonight was the night when he would ask you to be his girlfriend.

And if he were honest, he found that this prospect was scarier than walking on that stage for the first time and sing before a jury.

What if you said no?

But he pushed the thought away. Because that night, a year ago, you had almost kissed him too.

But a year had passed...

Yes, a year had passed, but he was certain that you didn't have a boyfriend. You hadn't mentioned anything to him or to Gemma, and that meant that you were single. He wasn't in Holmes Chapel anymore, but he was still your best friend.

Hopefully, that would change tonight though.

He walked down the stairs with his rose in his shaky hand. Anne eyed him from the living room, pretending to watch TV. When he struggled to arrange the collar of his black winter coat though, his mother couldn't help but walk over to him. She gently pushed his hands away and fumbled with the soft material until it was folded just the right way. She gave her son an encouraging smile and pinched his cheek affectionately.

"Good luck."

"I think I'm gonna throw up," he admitted, before turning to the door.

"It's only Y/N. It'll be fine," Anne encouraged him.

She crossed her fingers for him and he reciprocated the gesture before walking out of the house and into the cold air.

The wind bit down on his cheeks, making them flushed and painful. He ignored the sensation though, and hurried down the path and towards your house.

How many times had he walked this same path leading to your house? Thousands and thousands of times, without a doubt...

It was the evening already, and February coming with its shorter days, it was already pitch-black outside. It had snowed that morning, and the grass and pavement all around the street were covered with half-melted ice. The rooftops were of an immaculate white, although the lampposts scattered down the lane were barely enough to show them. The clouds of the morning had cleared through the afternoon, and the night sky was stained with pale stars. The moon though was nowhere to be seen.

And for the first time in twelve years, he was nervous as he knocked on your front door, the same red paint that had always been there, chipped at the corners and a little diluted by the sun.

You were quick to open the door, and Harry could have sworn that he was having a heart-attack as he saw you again.

You were wearing a simple pair of blue jeans and a warm sweater. Simple. Comfy. The most adorable sight he had ever seen

You were even more beautiful than the last time he had seen you for real... how were you even human at this point?

"Hi, Y/N..."

But he was cut short as you threw yourself at him, sure that he would catch you. And he did, he always did.

You both laughed, your nerves slowly dissolving as you held each other tight.

"Harry!"

"It's me," he nodded, chuckling some more.

"I've missed you so much... I can't believe you're here!"

"I've missed you too. So much!"

"You have so much stuff to tell me. And I have too. You'll never guess who Jeremy ended up with."

"Jeremy? With Ashley?"

"With Leila."

"What?! No way!" He exclaimed, pulling away just enough to look up at you as he was still carrying you, your legs now wrapped around him like a koala.

You nodded with shock all over your features.

"You'll tell me everything. I need to know what kind of drama could have unfolded to lead to these two getting together."

He pressed his face into your neck again, right where it belonged, and you closed your eyes as his warm breath hit your skin softly, a vivid contrast with the cold air of the early evening.

Finally, he gently put you back down, feeling that you were starting to shiver in the cold weather.

And at last, you noticed that he was holding a rose in his hand. You looked up at him questioningly, and Harry was certain that he was going to either throw up or pass out then.

He opened his mouth to offer to go inside to talk because it was awfully cold outside, when someone new appeared on the threshold.

And Harry froze.

It was a boy. Around your age. He had never seen him before.

Who…? What…?

"Oh, Harry, this is Joel! Jo, this is Harry!"

Jo?!

"Hi, man!" Joel shook Harry's hand.

"Hi."

Who was that guy, and what was he doing here? It was the evening, and it was Valentine's Day, and it was the day Harry finally came home to Holmes Chapel and…

Oh…

You had a boyfriend…

"Why don't you come in, Harry?" you offered, but your best friend was still staring at Joel.

You… you had a boyfriend?

"Harry?"

You tilted your head to the side, frowning at him. You were shivering in the cold now, your teeth chattering before you would clench your jaw to stop the shaking. Your breath drew patterns in the light coming from your house behind you. And you were breathtaking, as always. You were absolutely perfect.

You had a boyfriend.

Harry tightened his hold on the rose without noticing, until a thorn was piercing the flesh between his thumb and forefinger.

"Uhm… Actually, I was just saying hello, but I got to go."

"Oh, okay…" you nodded, although you were clearly disappointed.

"Yeah, I… I've got to go."

"Still busy because of the band?"

"Uhm… No, I… I've got something to do."

You looked at the rose again, and then at his eyes, your gaze travelling back and forth a few times.

Of course, you were wondering what he was doing with this flower in his hand.

And he could have given it to you. Given you the benefit of the doubt. Gone forth with his plan anyway. Asked about your boyfriend.

But it seemed wrong and mean and all in all, useless. You had found someone else, and on one hand he was the one to blame. A year had passed since that moment you had shared in his house, and so much was different now. He should have asked you about all this before, instead of waiting for you to be gone. He was too late, that was all.

And maybe he had given the moment too much meaning. Maybe you didn't mean much by it. Maybe you had forgotten about it altogether.

And there he was with a rose for you after spending months building his hopes up. What a fool he was… What an absolute idiot…

"Hmm… yeah, I… I've got to go see Melanie."

"Melanie?"

"Yeah, I… I have a date."

Your expression remained unreadable, although he saw the way your jaw clenched. But he attributed the symptom to the fact that he had promised to spend some time with you tonight, and your best friend was bailing out on you.

Yes, that was why you seemed confused, and a little sad.

"Oh," was your only answer.

He nodded, taking a step back.

"Will you still be here tomorrow?" you asked, following him one step further, chasing after him even if for a single step, the way you always had and always would.

"Yeah, I'm leaving in a week."

"Can you… Maybe we could go to the cinema tomorrow or… just… chill and catch up?"

"I… I don't know, Gemma's back too to see me so…"

"Oh, okay…"

"And I want to spend some time with my mum too, so..."

"Of course, you… you don't see her that much either."

"Yeah."

"Well, just… tell me when you're free, okay? I… I've really missed you and I… I really want to catch up with you."

"Okay. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Good night, Harry."

Before you could say anything else, Harry had turned on his heels and was hurrying down the street. He turned left to cross through the gardens and come back to his house discretely. When he knocked at the kitchen door, Anne welcomed him back inside with a deep frown.

"Already? What happened? And why are you coming back from there… we have a front door, you know?"

But he didn't answer and merely rushed inside, throwing the rose in the sink. He was taking off his coat when Anne realized what it all meant.

"Oh… darling, I'm sorry."

She wrapped her arms around her son, but Harry didn't reciprocate the gesture.

"I need to be alone right now," he whispered, but Anne tightened her hold on him.

"Are you sure? You don't want to tell me what happened?"

He struggled to swallow the lump in his throat, his voice made hoarse by pain.

"She… she has a boyfriend," he simply answered, and Anne heaved a sigh.

"I'm so sorry, darling."

"It's alright. It was a long shot anyway."

"Did you ask her about this boyfriend of hers? Maybe it isn't that serious."

"No, I didn't. I just… I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

"I need to be alone right now, mum."

"I'm here if you need anything, okay?"

Harry merely nodded, giving his mother a small smile as he finally broke away from her embrace. He hurried upstairs, while Anne looked at him with a pained expression on her face, but there wasn't much that she could do to help.

He walked in his bedroom and closed the door behind him, not bothering in turning on the light, and when he remembered his lie about Melanie, he decided to remain in the dark for a while longer. This same bedroom in which the two of you had spent countless hours laughing and joking around and doing your homework and reading and watching stupid videos of cats on his computer. You had fallen asleep together in his bed during sleepovers. You had broken his shelf while trying to imitate some martial art. You had broken your toe against his bed simply because you were so damn clumsy sometimes. You had played video games together through sleepless nights. You had read your favourite books to him out loud. He still had that sheet of paper upon which you had learned how to write his name in one of his drawers.

His life was so full of you.

He let himself slip down the length of the door until he was sitting on the wooden floor. When had the tears started to flow? He wasn't sure, but they were there nonetheless.

He looked up to his window, through which he could get a glimpse at your bedroom. Your light was on, and through the think curtains, he could guess your shadow moving on the other side of the windowpane. There was another shadow with you, a little taller, and he didn't need much effort to guess that it was Joel. He watched the two shadows moving closer to meld into one broader shape instead. He kicked the foot of his bed as he imagined the two of you kissing. And if he wasn't sure of what his feelings for you meant, he was absolutely certain that the cause behind his pain now was heartbreak.

He tried to look away, focus onto anything but you and Joel wrapped in each other's arms in your bedroom.

Because indeed, you were in Joel's arms at that moment. With your own arms around his neck and your head resting against his shoulder. And it felt nice. You felt better like this, being held.

You reckoned that you were lucky to have your cousin by your side. You were lucky that he had managed to travel for your mother's birthday and stayed for a few extra days. You were lucky that he was there now, with you, to cradle your head in his hand while you cried harder than you had ever cried before.

Because you had waited for a year for Harry to come back. Because you had imagined thousands of times how you would talk about that interrupted moment in his kitchen. Because you dreamt of being held by him instead, and you wondered what it felt like to be kissed by him. And when he had been standing there with that rose, for a moment, you had hoped that maybe the flower was for you. That perhaps he felt the same, had the same anticipation as you did at the thought of the two of you spending some quality time together again, and the same apprehension at the idea of talking about the almost-kiss from the previous year. But then, he had told you the rose was for Melanie, and not for you. It was Valentine's Day and he was going to give Melanie a red rose, the message was loud and clear.

Maybe he had even forgotten about that moment in his kitchen, it was the most painful thought that kept on twirling around in your mind.

Yes, you were glad your cousin Joel was there to hold you while you cried over your first heartbreak.

Loch Lomond, 2020

Now that you were up and eating your breakfast, your hair still damped from your morning shower, you noticed how sore your legs were after the hike of the day before. If you didn't regret at all your long walk in the mountains, as the view from the top was most definitely worth a few cramps now, you still wished you could go back in bed and lay there all day.

But your plans for a restful day didn't match the schedule your cousin had prepared for the week, and there was no way you could refuse Cassie anything the week before her wedding. Which was why you found yourself walking towards the loch with the rest of the guests, chatting with Patrick and your parents. Harry was a few steps behind, lost in a conversation of his own, even though he was sometimes distracted from the words spoken to him because he kept a careful eye on Patrick all the way from the lodge to the shore of the loch, cautious at being as discreet in his surveillance as he could.

Cassie had planned an outing across the loch. She had rented some rowboats for the day, that were merely ten minutes away from the lodge. The idea was to cross the loch with the boats, have lunch on the other side, and explore the forest a little maybe, and then coming back to the lodge for the early evening.

The weather was merciful, the day a little warmer than the previous one, and the sun was bright now that it was high enough in the blue sky. There were barely any lazy clouds to cover the light, and the waters of the loch reflected the clear sky like an azure mirror. The shores were not too muddy thanks to the sunny weather, although the layers of multicoloured skeleton leaves that covered the ground had a tendency to trap the morning dew for a little longer than usual, making the earth still a little wetter than what it should have been. It made your footsteps loud in the quiet morning.

Cassie insisted for you to join her and her fiancée in their boat, so you complied, leaving Harry to share a rowboat with other guests.

It didn't really surprise you to have Cassie insisting on you joining her. You had not seen each other in a very long time because of your studies, and you had lots of things to catch up on. Besides, you were expecting to be questioned about your 'relationship' with Harry.

And indeed, you were not disappointed.

Five minutes into the trip, as soon as you were a few meters away from the other boats, Cassie was more or less abandoning the oar she was in charge of to lean towards you instead, an excited glimmer in her eyes.

"So… you and Harry? I want to hear everything!"

You laughed, shaking your head.

"There's not so much to say about it," you rolled your eyes, diverting your attention from her eager eyes by shaking your drying locks, as if trying to make your hair dry faster.

"Not much to tell about it?! Are you kidding me?! After all these years of the two of you being oblivious morons, you finally are together!"

"We didn't spend years being oblivious morons, thank you very much!" you defended yourself, but your cousin was far from convinced.

"Yes, you did!"

"Honey, you need to help me control the boat," Cassie's fiancée blurted out, struggling with her own oar, but your cousin was too busy with you to care about where the boat was heading.

"How did you two finally come to your senses?" she asked.

"We… had a little bit too much to drink one evening, at a party," you explained, hoping she wouldn't notice that you were lying. "And we ended up… saying things that we wouldn't have admitted while sobber, I guess. And we… kissed. Then, the next day, we talked about it and came to the conclusion that it was for the better that we got it out in the open. And we decided to take the risk and try a relationship."

She let out an excited shriek, letting go of the oar completely, making Amy roll her eyes at her and giving up her own oar as well. She knew your cousin enough to be aware that she wouldn’t be focused on anything but you as long as her curiosity for gossips wasn't satisfied.

"I can't believe it took you guys this long to finally agree to be together!" she swatted your leg playfully. "But then, you both are stubborn and a little stupid, so… not so surprising."

"Thanks for the compliment," you answered with irony, making both the women in front of you laugh.

"And so far, how is it going?"

"Good. It's… it's going great."

"What about the distance?"

"Huh… so far we haven't had to deal with that too much but… we're used to not being around each other constantly so I'm not too worried."

"Yeah, but… it's different between friends and between lovers," Amy replied.

"Uhm… yeah, I guess," you tried to escape her question.

"Has he written songs about you?" Cassie asked, a softness spreading across her features, and both you and Amy chuckled at the sight of the desperate romantic your cousin sometimes was.

"No, he hasn't!" you replied.

"None that you know of, at least!" Cassie replied with a snort. "He was already writing songs about you before you two got together, so he's obviously writing some now too!"

"No, he wasn't!" you shook your head, frowning.

"Huh… yes, he was."

"Of course not!"

"He was! You have to be blind to not realize that yet! He's been head over heels for you for years!"

You rolled your eyes, hoping the gesture would be enough of an answer, because you weren't sure how to respond to her without betraying the truth.

After all, she would know he had never felt this way for you if you told her that he had never, for certain, written any songs about you. Because for all these years, he had never seen anything but a friend in you. There had been one moment when you were sixteen… but then time had passed and had turned the instant in a fading memory. And there was nothing else to be said about it all. He went on to have other relationships, and you did the same, and he fell in love and wrote songs about other people, and never about you. And you were fine with that.

But you couldn’t sell Cassie the story of shared feelings with Harry if you told her that he had never seen anything in you but a friend.

Luckily for you, she dropped that particular subject, to come to another, just as personal and problematic for you to answer.

"And… when did he first say that he loves you, then?"

You scoffed, faking to be a little embarrassed.

"That is none of your business!"

"But he said it then!" Cassie let out another excited shriek. "Knowing him, it must have been awfully romantic," she went on with a dreamy sigh.

By her side, Amy rolled her eyes at her, an amused smile on her lips.

The other boats of the party were drifting across the loch as well, a few meters away and, hopefully, out of earshot. But you were too busy trying to make your way through Cassie's sudden interview to pay much attention to the rest of the guests.

"Anyway, it ought to be more romantic than when Amy told me she loved me for the first time," she threw a knowing glance at her fiancée, who frowned at her in response.

"It was kind of romantic, when you think of it!" Amy defended herself.

"I was sick! I was throwing up in your toilets!"

"I was holding your hair!"

"I WAS PUKING!" Cassie fought back.

"When you think of it, it was kind of cute," you defended Amy with a chuckle. "It meant that she loved you even if she was seeing you being disgusting."

"Exactly!" Amy agreed.

Cassie laughed, before leaning to kiss the fresh pout away from her fiancée's lips.

"You're right. It was kind of cute. Memorable, if anything else."

It was Amy's time to laugh, before leaning for another peck.

And seeing the couple together like this, you had to admit that you were a little jealous. If you weren't complaining about being single, you still had to admit that, looking at these two being adorable together, you wanted that too, one day.

You didn't even notice your eyes drifting away and settling on a colourful jumper in another of the boats, your brain refusing to register the interruption in the movement of your eyes, or who the jumper and the mess of brown curls belonged to.

"Anyway, next question I have to ask," Cassie brought you back to the present, and you settled your attention on her again. "How is the sex?"

You chocked on your own breath.

"What?! What kind of question is that?!" you protested, but Cassie merely shrugged while Amy was exploding with laughter at your reaction.

"Sex can be important in a relationship! Depends on the relationship, of course. Some people don't need that. But Harry is obviously very touchy and horny, like… that's just who he is. So I assume sex is gonna be a part of the relationship that… counts at least. How is it going?"

"Cassie!"

"What? We're all grown-ups! Don't act all shy now!

"I… It's going perfectly fine, thank you for your concern," you answered, clearly embarrassed.

"Good… you won't give me any more details on what's going on down there…?"

"CASSIE!"

"Okay, okay! I was just curious!"

You buried your face in both your hands, groaning in embarrassment.

"Besides, I'm asking cause… I'm a bit worried for you two, if I'm honest."

At that comment though, you looked up at Cassie again.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, it's just…" she shrugged, trying to find the right words. "You and Harry don't seem so… different around each other than you were… before. You know?"

It was your turn to shrug.

"We've always been kind of close. And Harry isn't so much in PDA anyway."

"Hmm…" your cousin nodded, but was clearly unconvinced. "I don't know, I just… feel like maybe you're not putting enough… tenderness into it. Okay, he held your hand a couple of times but… you're not kissing, or stealing many glances or… I mean, no more than usual. I don't know, just… I'm worried about you two. A relationship can't work if you don't put efforts into it, and you don't seem to put too much effort into it for now."

You were near panicking by now.

Had you and Harry done such a bad job at selling the whole fake relationship? Even your cousin was doubting you. You reckoned that a conversation with Harry was needed.

But right now, you needed to find an explanation, and fast.

You heaved a sigh.

"It's just… it's a bit weird being together around my parents and the whole family, you know?" you lied, hoping with all your might that Cassie would bite into the bait. "I'd love to be a bit more obvious about it, but then I notice my parents are around, and I feel like a teenager about to get caught snogging her boyfriend in her bedroom by her dad… you know what I mean? And I think Harry kinda feel the same."

Cassie nodded knowingly, before leaning forward and taking your hand.

"I get it. It must be weird to change your relationship with Harry and suddenly come forth with it in front of everyone. Especially when Harry has been your friend and a part of this family for so long now. But… you need to relax. Everyone around here loves Harry, and more importantly, everyone simply wants you to be happy. And it's obvious that your happiness lays with Harry, it's always been obvious. So… relax. Enjoy your relationship and stop caring so much about everybody else. Can you do that for me? Consider it my wedding gift."

You were strangely touched by her caring words, and you found yourself fighting tears for some reason. Maybe it was because Cassie was so genuinely concerned for you and only wanted the brightest happiness for you, it was obvious in her tone and her words alike. Maybe it was because of what she said about Harry and you. It was hard to tell.

But you nodded anyway, choosing to joke to relieve the emotion that filled the air above the loch all of a sudden.

"I'll try, thank you for your advice. But… I've already bought you one of the things on your stupid wedding list, so… that would make too many gifts."

She laughed with you, finally pulling away, and taking back her oar. But she didn't start manoeuvring the boat before one last word was spoken through a tender smile.

"I'm really happy for you, Y/N. He'll make you happy, I know it. He'll love you the way you deserve to be adored. He always has, even when you didn't know he did."

You weren't surprised to find Harry playing with the two young children that were part of the guests. Amy's nephews and nieces were, after all, some of the cutest children you had ever met, and Harry was known for his love for children. So, when you went looking for him to talk about what your cousin had confessed in the boat about her doubts about the two of you, and found your best friend giggling in the most adorable way, chasing after Amy's eight-year-old nephew, in this ridiculous way he had to run sometimes, you couldn't refrain a grin. None of them seemed to notice you as you approached them, they were too busy playing on the shore of the loch. The rest of the two families were setting down blankets and the food needed for the picnic a few meters away, the boats safely dragged up the shore when you arrived to the other side of the loch. And you thought you could use this amount of time when everyone else was busy to have a quick conversation with Harry. But then, you were met with this adorable scene that now unfolded before you, and really, you couldn't interrupt them.

It was as if you were held back by an invisible force, really. All of a sudden, your feet were planted in the ground, and there was no willpower to summon in yourself to make your body move forward. Instead, you remained motionless under the autumnal sun, the wind making the colourful leaves whisper above you, and stared at your best friend being the softest ray of sunshine you had ever seen.

And there it was again. This warm feeling invading your whole chest that you had spent so long trying to banish from your heart. No need to put a name on it. No need to make it harder and more painful than it already was.

Why did he have to be like this all the time? He made it so hard to forget him. And he was so oblivious to it all that you couldn't even be mad at him for it.

Really sometimes, you hated him a little because of it. And as you watched him run around after the child, purposefully missing as he extended his arms to grab the boy, a ridiculous expression on his face as he laughed under the sun, wearing that stupid oversized jumper stained with bright colours of his, his unruly hair a mess of curls shaken by the wind, you did hate him a little. You hated him for making you feel the way you did now.

It took him a couple of minutes to notice that you were there, leaning against the trunk of an evergreen pine tree. Once he spotted you, he shot you a bright smile, before making a silly face that made you laugh despite yourself. It wasn't your fault, after all. He was so goofy sometimes, how were you supposed to resist him?

You shook your head at him, before nodding towards the trees that climbed up the shores, all the way up the slopes of the mountains around the lochs. Harry seemed to catch what you meant, as he sent the children back to their parents, and followed you as discreetly as he could further in the forest.

There were bushes filled with thorns that you almost tore your jeans onto. Only a few meters away, a small clearing filled with purple heather and tall green ferns was splayed in sunshine. Pine trees left their needles everywhere, making a brownish blanket upon the earth. A few colourful deciduous trees finished to paint the scene with touches of brighter colours to stain the blank blue sky. You figured the clearing was far enough to not be heard.

"Everything alright?" Harry asked with a concerned frown when you stopped walking and turned to him with worry painted all across your features.

"I had a talk with Amy in the boat."

"And?"

"And… we're not doing so good."

"What do you mean? Do you mean she's… suspicious about us being together?"

"Kind of. I mean… no, she didn't go this far," you reassured him. "But she asked if everything was alright between us because she thought we weren't… uhm… showing our feelings enough."

Harry heaved a sigh, pinching his lower lip between his fingers, clear sign that he was thinking and worried.

"I told you it was a bad idea."

"Look, we just need to up our game a little. I thought my family would be more easily convinced, but as they clearly don't seem to be buying it, I reckon that we simply have to… put a little more effort pretending."

"So… what do you propose we do?"

"Just… more PDA, I guess."

Harry's cheeks and ears turned crimson, and there was nowhere for him to hide this time.

"Alright. I can do that."

"Let's just… full on pretend we're together, okay? Holding hands, and hugs or whatever… you would do with your girlfriend in public... I mean… with people you know around."

"Okay."

"We can do this, H."

"We don't exactly have a choice at this point, do we?"

You didn't answer, and instead, walked back towards your family to join them for lunch, leaving Harry to meditate on your words on his own.

But then, he reckoned he didn't have a choice. If you wanted him to fully lean in the pretend, then he'd do it. No matter how dangerous that behaviour could end up being.

*****************************************************************

Taglist : @emcchi @fishstick-knows @eldahae @just-damn-bored @retrouvailessx @marvelstudies2020 @boxofteenageideas@ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky@snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity@i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony@madamrogers @cronias13 @stylesfics-xx @mellamolayla @mariaenchanted@swtxel

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #series #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writing prompt #event #4700 followers

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whatmack · 4 years

Note

A thought: Jean used to play piano back in France but hasn't played since being taken to the nest (but he secretly shared a love of classical music with Kevin). And with his fingers having been broken so many times by Riko, never healing quite right, he's afraid he won't get his hands to work in the right way for piano anymore. Of course Jeremy somehow discovers Jean's past love for piano and picks up a small electric one to put in their dorm and gently encourages Jean to start playing again.

“There is a story about a classical composer named Robert Schumann. Stop me if you’ve heard this before,” Jean said.

The dry, blunted edges of Jean’s vowels were weighted down with irony. Jeremy had heard the names of Mozart, and Bach, and Chopin, when Jean had arrived in California, but like a one-night stand, he had known little else. The way he described music put Jean in that mind, actually: just as a televised barfly might say, the one with the--, Jeremy would spread his hands wide and ask Jean if Beethoven’s Fifth was the one with the big booms, or call The Queen of the Night’s aria a cute little tune. It had taken months for Jean to realize that Jeremy was laying it on thicker in order to get a rise out of him. (Jean had spent most of the time at Abigail Winfield’s house in a haze of painkillers and disbelief, dumbly absorbing daytime television. He had no better understanding of the way things worked in America; but he could sing the George Lopez theme from memory.) “Oh, I can stand to hear it again,” Jeremy said. He was smiling. For Jeremy Knox, that was the default state. He took Jean’s right hand in his own, where they were sitting cross-legged on Jeremy’s bed, and turned it over to stroke his suntanned thumb along Jean’s heartline. It tickled. How very strange. Jean was not used to things that didn’t hurt. (Still.) To keep from falling into it, Jean looked down at his other hand, resting curled in his lap as much as it was able. It was his non-dominant hand, and had only needed to be able to close enough to hold a raquet, as Riko had been wont to remind him. He matched Kevin, now. Rather, Kevin matched him. “The story,” Jeremy prompted. Jean cleared his throat. “Yes. The story. Schumann’s teacher, you see, was, more interested in teaching his own daughter, Clara, then wasting time on the layabout youth Schumann had been before he took it upon himself to study. To master piano, Schumann would have to work hard, and on his own. So he invented a device to strengthen his fingers-- weights attached to wires inside a cigar box, which he would pull with his fingers one by one.” A prick of doubt. “I think. That may not be-- I may not be remembering correctly.” Jeremy edged forward so his knees were bumping Jean’s. The endless swirl of the past flickered, and then, as Jean wrapped his fingers around Jeremy’s wrist, faded to the piecemental afterimage of a dream. There, but not so present. Jean looked at the contrast of Jeremy’s dark skin under Jean’s darker, offered so easily, without pity. He felt Jeremy’s pulse under his fingertips. The thumb has its own pulse, Jean reminded himself, absently as he always did, when he thought of it; it cannot be used to measure a heart rate. “It ruined his fingers. Destroyed their dexterity. Two fingers on his right hand were paralyzed. The very device he had created to help achieve his piano career had ended it. Of course, he went on to become a brilliant composer, so perhaps not all was lost.” The last was an attempt at humor. Jean was getting better at this gentler kind, counterpoint to the stinging, minutely targeted barbs of the Nest. It left Jean lightheaded. When Jeremy laughed, a warm and unplanned thing, Jean felt his lungs inflate again. “That’s horrible,” Jeremy said. “Not the composer thing! About his hands. It isn’t fair.” Jean shrugged. “It’s also possible his fingers stiffened up due to treatment for syphillis. I learned that after I had stopped playing.” Jeremy laughed again, louder, and the room was bright for a moment. He sobered to pull his hand back into his own space, taking Jean’s with it, the ugly scars incongruous over the Trojan red of his sweatpants. “But you’re going to start again.” “Maybe. It if turns out to not be possible, there’s no sense in wasting my time .” “There would be,” Jeremy insisted. He wanted to say more, Jean could tell in the way he rocked back and forth on his hipbones, but he subsided. “When I start,” Jean said. He swallowed. This was important. Even if his throat was dry as dust, he needed Jeremy to understand it. “You can’t listen.” “Ever?” He wouldn’t, if Jean said never, Jean knew. Was starting to believe. (Very good, Jean’s mother had said, arching her fingers over Jean’s to help him reach the keys. It was a stretch, but a pleasant one, especially when it made his mother smile. Up and down the scale, like this. Soon you will be playing concert halls, no? My little Debussy.) “Later. If it works. I’ll tell you when,” Jean promised, and had to close his eyes to the transparency of joy on Jeremy’s face.

#jerejean #my fics #h m #i want to get back into classical...get into it properly this time.#i've got good headphones now....................h mmmm #Anonymous #oh jean my love my dear #schumann's life just went differently than he had planned. and so will urs #(jeremy voice: what's his name? that one composer? busey? da bussy?)#(jean in mingled amusement and horror: i don't think you should be allowed to have ears anymore captain knox)#(jeremy putting music on when friends are over at the apartment: oh this is my boyfriend's favorite composer. gary da bussy)#(jean's voice muffled from the other room: ive been trying to divorce him but we're not even engaged. did you want chicken or tofu)

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harrysgoldrush · 4 years

Text

and they were roommates {h.s.} i

masterlist

one of the perks of being roommates with harry is that he’s an honest audience.

you’re both writers, with him being the successful musician he is and you being a best-selling romance novelist which works out perfectly for the two of you when writer’s block takes over.

it there’s a chapter or moment you’re unsure of, he’s always eager to help even if he seems busy. you’ve always done the same for him when he can’t find the right word or turn of phrase to carry his latest tune, you’re quick to set aside your laptop to help.

still, anyone who knows you two knows that you’re the two most competitive people in the world.

every bit of advice comes with its own witty comment.

harry never fails to find your weaker moments, suggesting that the youthful confession of love in chapter four should be shyer and that your main characters should struggle more when nervous to tell the other how they feel.

you’re quick as a whip to point out any misspellings or made-up words, or as he likes to call it ‘harryisms’ and advise a shift of words to make the flow of lyrics fit better when he has too many syllables.

its all good-natured, you’re both stubborn perfectionists in the end and highly supportive of the others.

but that doesn’t stop you from sneaking into his bathroom early in the mornings to bring harry asperin, having learned early on that he has a nasty habit of falling asleep in the bathtub with his typewriter when he needs a late-night change of scenery when struggling with finalizing a song.

its become a habit for harry to get you an espresso every morning in the weeks leading up to a deadline when sleep is chased away by nerves and procrastination. he hates to hear you fell asleep at another meeting with your publisher.

still, the loving jabs at each other just serve as distractions.

he’ll loudly barge into your room at 2am to tell you your typing is keeping him up late as he slowly picks up the latest printed chapter of your book, tucking into his ridiculously fluffy yellow robe as he tells himself its just a much needed late-night read.

you simply scoff at him, not looking away from your laptop as you tell him you’ll stop as soon as he stops singing so loudly in the morning when he makes breakfast, carefully pausing your harry styles radio on spotify and hoping he couldn’t hear his music blasting through your earbuds.

it’s never been a secret you two admire each other’s work, there isn’t an unsupportive bone in either of your bodies.

and its been that way since the two of you met in a rushed coffee meeting in between business meetings in between work. he needed a ‘flatmate’ and you needed an apartment closer to your publishing house.

a friend of a friend had mentioned you at some point during a fashion show two years ago and harry was happy to reach out and ask to meet.

harry sat hunched over his warm coffee mug, his olive green jacket collar popped up to keep him warm as he watched you carefully sip your pomegranate tea, unbothered by the wind as you sat outside the fairly empty cafe.

his hair was longer back then, being relentlessly pushed into his cheery face with every gust of wind until you had graciously offered him a dark yellow hair tie. the two of you had instantly begun chatting like old friends.

“it’s freezing out here,” he exclaimed, his teeth chattering and his eyes wide as he held his mug close under his chin, ducking down to feel the steam on his face. after another particularly strong gust of wind, harry set his mug down and reached down to zip up his jacket. his brows furrowed and his face grew comically annoyed, making you stifle a laugh, before he shifted back in his seat and began to tug at the thin material of his white shirt which had somehow gotten caught in the teeth of his zipper. Once he successfully freed his shirt and fully zipped up his jacket, he smiled widely and grabbed his mug again, squeezing it between his hands.

his nails were a deep blue, his neat manicure both impressed you and caused you to curl your hands up to hide you last minute and very messy attempt to paint you nails red before rushing here to meet him. his ripped jeans and designer boots put your leggings and worn trainers to shame.

but something in his kind eyes told you it didn’t matter to harry. he had seemed ecstatic to see you, practically leaping onto you once he took in your faded fleetwood mac shirt you definitely stole from your mom before going off to college, crushing you in a surprisingly comforting hug.

“sorry. i guess i’m stuck in the habit of sitting outside, i’ve only gone in to order.”

“you don't have to apologize, ‘sides, it has a nice view of the park.”

“exactly. perfect to people watch.”

he had laughed at that, nodding as you casually checked the time on your phone.

“sorry, what time is it?”

“one thirty two.”

“don’t you have that meeting at two?”

“oh,” blinking, it dawned on you that you did indeed have a meeting you were scared shitless for. “it’s okay, i can reschedule.”

“no, no its fine. we can wrap this up.” finishing up his coffee, he set his mug down and rubbed his hands together quickly. “jeremy hatcher said you were still looking for a flatmate in the city. my flat is far too big for just me and it’d be nice to not come home to an empty house; i haven’t been adjusting well to living alone. i don’ t have anything planned for the next few months but normally, i travel for wo--”

“i know who you are, harry,” you laughed. when he looked at you surprised, you added, “the whole world does, your band has been the focus of every tabloid for weeks since you decided to go on hiatus.”

seeing him grimace made you realize that you never wanted to see him frown again.

“i am so, so sorry that was uncalled for.”

“maybe a bit.”

“you should make plans.”

“what?”

“just because you don’t have a band anymore doesn’t mean you can’t keep doing what you love. i’m sure everyone tells you this but its a blessing in disguise,” sighing, you rubbed your neck, unsure of why you were opening up so quickly to a practical stranger you wanted to live with. “i got laid off from my last job where i was cowriting mystery novels with eight other writers. i have a draft due in twenty minutes that i’m terrified to deliver because i’ve never published a book that didn’t have my name in tiny print. i’m scared people read my books because of the other seven authors but i’m also happy because this is my work. its what i want to write and if no one reads it, so be it because i know i’ll read it. maybe my parents will too. but i’ll have said what i want to have said.”

harry’s smile from earlier grew tenfold and he quickly stood up, startling you. “You shouldn’t be nervous about that meeting. i think you’ll be fine. and i’ll be happy to read it once you move in.”

“what?” you asked in shock, watching as harry dug through his jacket pockets before awkwardly shoving a hand down the tight pocket of his skinny jeans, pulling out a few crumpled dollars which he set on the table, placing his mug ontop of them to protect them from the breeze. “you hardly know me! you can’t just ask me to live with you after half an hour. i could be a murderer. don’”t ask me to be your roommate yet!”

stepping back, harry chuckled and shrugged, his hands moving up to grab at the drawstrings of his hood. “i’d like to think i know you well. besides, that’s the best part, we can’t rush getting to know each other.”

“you can’t just leave!” you exclaimed as he pulled his hood up and began to walk away.

“yes i can,” harry spun on his heel to take one last glance before frantically tapping at his bare wrist, “and you have a meeting to get to!”

“harry!”

“i know you’ll do great roommate!”

#harry styles tpwk #harry styles blurb #harry styles blog #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry #harry edward styles #harry styles #romance movies #romance novels #romance #styles #roommates #friends to lovers #harry styles x y/n

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topimagines · 4 years

Text

Tip Toes

Summary: I’m on my tip toes, trying to see past my ego. Reaching for something more than this feeling of being important. Leaving my heart behind is bleeding, but my pride is screaming. My future will listen to me, listen to me.

Warning: I wanted to write angst, but this came out. IDK how to label it. Listen to tip toes by half alive while reading. issa long one

Y/n had not dated much. Actually, she did not start looking for a relationship until her freshman year of college. By then there weren’t many people she talked to and considered a friend; therefore, the idea of dating someone, being close to someone that was not her friend, did not pique her interest. Around the time she met Brendon and Sarah, she had lost all hope in a romantic relationship. It almost seemed too good to be true, a truly happy relationship seemed unattainable.

This feeling came in waves, making her feel nauseous like she was on a boat in a hurricane. It became truly difficult to accept a happy reality that ended in kids of her own and a husband or wife, but she knew it was just about impossible. Her best friends were a married couple and a gay man (who was also in a happy relationship), they always rooted for her. But they didn’t understand, she was a twenty-something-year-old who had no idea how to even kiss someone. Everyone always told her (especially her friends) that it was admirable that she held out for so long like she was waiting for the right person or something.

In other words, y/n would describe herself as the biggest virgin on earth, and it genuinely was from a lack of trying.

It almost felt as if her own future didn’t belong to her.

Some days were better than others, just like the day Sarah asked her to come to hang out at her house. y/n had just gotten done with finals, so she had basically a month of sitting around and waiting for the Spring semester to finally start. Sarah and Brendon cuddled on the couch, y/n on the chair in the corner of the room actually watching the movie and trying to not pay attention to the couple that was no doubt finger banging each other under the blanket they shared.

“I think I should go,” y/n said, “I have to work in the morning so I can’t stay up too late.” She stretched her arms and legs when she got up from the chair. Sarah seemed to be frightened out of a daze when she looked up at her friend.

“Oh, okay!” Sarah chirped, pushing Brendon away from her, “Do you want me to walk you out?”

y/n shook her head, “no thanks, I’m fine.”

“Well… I’ll see you later?” Sarah asked. Y/n didn’t really want to. It wasn’t that she didn’t like hanging out with them, they always made her feel lonely. And sad. But mostly lonely.

“I don’t know, I have a busy week at the hospital; I will text you when I get time,” y/n said before bidding the couple goodbye and leaving the house.

Sarah looked at her husband, who had gotten entranced by the movie in the five minutes since he was trying to sneak his hand into her pants. “You are such an idiot.”

“What did I do?”

Y/n got home that night very confused about her feelings. Her brain was spiraling out of control with delusions of being married and having someone who would dote on her the same way Brendon did Sarah. At the same time, she never really paid attention to them behind the scenes, so maybe they’re dysfunctional and she never saw it.

That didn’t make sense, if she knew one thing about the couple, it was that they talked about everything. And Sarah told her everything, every fight they had, Sarah would go to y/n’s apartment and sit until Brendon sulked his way over.

Every time she thought about the couple, she got a weird sensation of butterflies in her stomach.

No, she thought, I am not developing a stupid crush just because I’m sad and lonely.

That night she couldn’t sleep; it didn’t help that she knew she did have work in the morning and the hospital was unforgiving when the lab techs were late. By the time she finally stopped swimming in her thoughts, she had dreams of her friends, holding her hand and kissing her on the forehead.

It was 6 AM before she knew it, and she had to get up and get ready for work.

Hopefully, tea would help wake her up before she got to work and did a piss poor job.

Y/n had never been more appreciative of the hospital. She had fond memories of staying there, almost dying, meeting so many different doctors that she just didn’t have it in her to leave.

Sarcasm, that was the key to understanding her outlook on life. Constant use of sarcasm.

But she would be lying if she said that today, and every day for the past week, she was so glad they had a week full of emergencies and a trip planned for a conference with Lab Technologists across the country. This trip would take her to Boston and all she could think of was the idea of seeing every museum she could for one full week and going to a conference full of people who had a thorough understanding of microbiology and hematology. It was almost enough to make her come in her jeans.

What she did not appreciate, was Brendon coming to visit her while she was supposed to be working. She had just gotten a lab sample to test for any drug she could when Brendon waltzed in with In N Out in his hand. He greeted her with a hug and handed her the bag.

“Sarah is at work,” he sighed, “she doesn’t get a lunch today because she’s busy or something, so I thought I’d visit my bestie.” She was too distracted to notice what he was saying. Brendon tried to call her name, the third time she snapped.

“What do you want?” she half yelled, looking away from her specimen.

Brendon looked taken aback; he didn’t even know how to reply when he has never seen her so angry before. Her coworker, a younger man by the name of Jeremy Ren, looked up from his microscope and stepped over to her area.

“L/n, you go take your lunch break, I’ll take care of this shotgun,” he took the test tubes and brought them back to his microscope with him, still eyeing the two.

She scoffed and stomped out, ditching her lab coat at the door. She led Brendon to the hospital cafeteria and sat down with him in the corner.

“What’s wrong? You usually aren’t so…” Brendon trailed off, “Are you still being overworked? Have you talked to your boss about time off?”

Y/n shook her head, “I’m just… fine, I’m fine.” Internally, she cringed. If she talked to him about it, maybe she could resolve the war she had inevitably put herself into.

But the idea of not telling him anything was far more appealing. Nothing had to change.

“Are you sure? You look tired, have you been sleeping?” He reached over and grabbed her hand, tracing his thumb over her knuckles.

God, Brendon, she thought, Stop being so caring, it’s not helping my situation. She pulled her hand away and tucked it under her pants. This couldn’t happen. She did everything she could to give herself a reason not to develop a stupid crush on the man in front of her. She could only come up with two.

1. He’s married to her best friend

2. He definitely wouldn’t see her the same way

Number two made her heart bleed. Not literally, she knew the severity of an actual bleeding heart, she worked in a hospital for Christ’s sake. But if she were to imagine the pain, this would be it.

“I’m just… excited for this trip to Boston next week,” she confessed. It wasn’t a lie by any means, she stayed up all night a month ago when she heard she was going on the trip, planning what she wanted to pack. This didn’t change the stare he had on the table where her hand used to be, and his hand still sat.

“Oh, that is coming up, isn’t it?” he put a smile on his face, trying to quickly recover from whatever feeling he felt. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit off today. We haven’t seen you all week, we miss you at the house.”

She frowned. There was an impulsive need in her to put her hand back and comfort him. But she knew she shouldn’t do it because she knew it would only make her feel worse.

“I’ve been busy with work, had a lot of emergencies and stuff,” she explained, “I’m free this weekend, I’ll try to come over before I leave for the airport on Sunday.” That was not what she wanted to say, why did she say that?

“Sounds like a plan!” he seemed happy with that suggestion though, so maybe she didn’t have anything to worry about. “How has your week been, then? What kinda emergencies did you get?”

She and Brendon talked for a while, she told him about the guy who came in with necrotic tissue on his arm from heroin, and he told her about his charity live stream and how proud he was of everyone who donated.

Watching him so happy as he explained what happened, she felt herself swooning. They sat in silence for a few moments after he finished speaking, both focused on eating their food. One of the surgical nurses walked passed them with a smile on her face.

“Y/n, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend!” Brendon smirked and opened his mouth to explain that they weren’t a couple, but the nurse continued on, “you’re always going on about how lonely you are! It’s nice to see you’re finally getting out there.” Y/n’s eyes were wide, and a blush crept across her cheeks.

“Uh… thank you, Andrea,” she said with a shaky voice.

“So proud of you, my dear,” Andrea smiled brightly t the two before she walked away, bidding them goodbye.

“You’re lonely?” Brendon asked when Andrea was out of earshot.

y/n couldn’t speak as she stared at her fries, the only response she gave was a small nod.

“Why are you lonely? You never date… or expressed a desire… to date.” Damn you, Sarah, she thought, that was supposed to be a secret.

“well… lately, it’s been a bit different,” she sighed, “I’m almost 30, I’ve never been on a real date or…. Done anything, really. I thought I’d at least have a boyfriend by now.” That was easier to get off her chest than she thought.

“You’ve never done anything? Not even like… a kiss?” Brendon knew he was badgering her now, but this was so unbelievable to him. She was so smart and beautiful; how could anyone look passed her?

She shook her head, eyes still on the fries that were no longer steamy, “Can we drop it please?”

Brendon took in the shakiness to her tone and decided to drop it like she asked. This topic would definitely come up later with Sarah, though. He had so many more questions.

When they parted ways after lunch, Brendon couldn’t hold back a smile as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. She blushed harder than she had at lunch when she said bye to him. No one, besides her parents and grandparents, had ever kissed her on the cheek.

She kind of liked it.

Sarah told Brendon everything he wanted to know. She didn’t know why, at first, but he explained what happened during lunch.

“But you can’t badger her or make her feel bad,” Sarah emphasized, “She always felt self-conscious about it, even after we became friends.” Brendon understood, even though he never had to deal with stuff like that. He had lost his virginity early on, and everything just came naturally after that.

“I would never.”

“So, what’s with you never dating anyone?” He had promised not to pry, but now it was late at night in y/n’s apartment and he had more than a few drinks in his system. Sue him, he wanted to hang out and she brought out the wine.

“I just… don’t do it?” y/n had a few drinks in her too, the wine was making her feel like being truthful. If she were sober, she wouldn’t be telling hi anything, but maybe she needed to get it off her chest? Drunk y/n thought so, anyway. “I didn’t get my first boyfriend until my freshman year of college, and before that, I only had minor flings with girls from my school. I don’t know, dating always makes me anxious.”

“And you’ve never done anything?” He knew her answer already. This was beginning to get repetitive and even drunk y/n was fed up with it.

“Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because it’s… it’s so rare! You’re like a unicorn!” he laughed at his comparison. She shook her head, she felt kind of offended, but she knew what he was saying. He hadn’t meant it to be an insult at all, he was kind of proud of her, even with pressures that a woman date and be married by her age, she didn’t feel that. She was unabashedly herself.

He didn’t know what came over him when he opened his mouth next, “I mean, I can always help you.”

y/n looked into his eyes, and she swore that if she were a meme, she would have question marks floating around her head. “What?”

“I mean if you ever want your first kiss… or something else… I can always help you,” he didn’t know why he was saying it, but he couldn’t help but offer. The offer was outlandish, yes, but he knew Sarah would be alright with it. She had mentioned before how much she liked y/n, in a more than platonic way.

Before this whole topic came up, Brendon was planning on asking her to be their third, if she wanted to be. However, she told him she hadn’t dated someone very seriously.

“But… wh- h- Sarah?” y/n was blushing, her face and ears were bright red. This was not how she expected this to go.

“She would want to do the same thing, she has a thing for you,” drunk Brendon was an honest Brendon, apparently, “was gonna ask you if you wanted to go on a date with us the other day but obviously I didn’t.”

Y/n didn’t know what to say. Like, of course, he had to do this when she was drunk and couldn’t very well keep her thoughts to herself.

“Um…. Are you asking me now if I want to go on a date with you and Sarah?” y/n asked.

“Well, that wasn’t my first question,” Brendon leaned closer, and cupped her face with his left hand, “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop.” He continued leaning in, slowly but surely. He waited for her to protest; when she didn’t say anything, he finally connected their lips. If he were to compare all of his other kisses to the one right then, she wouldn’t be the worst. She was inexperienced, but her lips were soft and tasted like peppermint from her seasonal chapstick.

When she pulled away, he almost chased after her.

For the rest of the night, he explained the logistics of kissing, and eventually, they both fell asleep on the couch after he went on the the longest tangent on what kind of guitar he would get now that his “cream dream" was gone.

She left for Boston after saying goodbye to Brendon or Sarah. She had also talked to Robert (her other best friend) the day before the trip; he yelled at her for not telling him right away about everything that had been happening. To be genuinely honest, she needed this vacation after her night with Brendon.

It was a relief when Brendon left in the morning after they had kissed. The memory of her first kiss still burned in the back of her mind, but she didn’t want to focus on that. Right now, it was her time to relax.

That was until Brendon texted her asking what hotel she was at. She told him, just assuming he wanted to make sure she got there safe. Why would she think anything else?

She should have thought of something else. Now she was sitting in her room, scrolling through the TV when she heard the knock at the door.

He didn’t, she thought, please tell me he didn’t.

She opened the door and saw the couple standing in front of her with giant smiles on their faces.

He did.

“what are you doing here?” she said instead of greeting them.

Sarah let herself in, “we wanted to surprise you! You’ve wanted this vacation for a while, and we thought you’d want company!”

She really didn’t want company, but she put a smile on her face anyway.

After spending the whole week with Brendon and Sarah, y/n was exhausted. She only got a real break from the two when she was at the conference. They had both wished her luck that morning and went back to giggling under the blankets of their shared bed.

Now she was back in Los Angeles, and she was so fucking happy to go back to normal.

However, they didn’t necessarily go back to normal. Brendon spent a lot more time at her apartment than he used to. He started to initiate cuddling, press kisses to her cheek and hairline, and hugging her more than he used to. She started to see more of Sarah, as well. She did it more subtly. She bought y/n drinks and take her to fancy restaurants, surprises her with jewelry and takes her shopping, anything really.

All y/n wanted was for one of them to say something.

And when she least expected it, Brendon did.

“Have you ever wanted to lose your virginity?” Brendon asked during a movie one day. y/n shrugged, she couldn’t say she was surprised, she knew he would ask eventually.

“I guess,” she sighed, “its just not something I really let myself think about. I never thought anyone would… y’ know, want to. And I’m 28, no one wants to date a virgin at my age.”

“Don’t say that,” he took her hand in his. Recently, it had been his sign of comfort to lace his fingers with hers and rub his thumb along the back, “I already told you, me and Sarah love you…”

y/n couldn’t look up at him, she only stared at her fingers. She didn’t say anything, either.

“you never answered, you know,” he whispered, “let us take you on one date. A fancy restaurant, or a movie, whatever makes you least anxious.”

y/n shook her head. The feeling of drowning, even before saying yes, was obvious. She felt like she couldn’t breathe and had to remind herself how to focus on the feeling of his hand in hers.

“or, we can keep it low key, not label it… just the three of us?”

“um… okay..” y/n thought, “no labeling, just… just us. Let’s go see the new Jumanji.”

“That sounds perfect,” Brendon smiled down at y/n.

Maybe her future did belong to her.

#brendon urie fanfiction #brendon urie #brendon urie imagine #brendon urie x reader #sarah urie x reader #sarah urie imagine

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hvntedmoons · 4 years

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Kelsey Caldwell: & the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad History Lesson.

SP: Kelsey finally learns about her birth parents, her history, and just how screwed up the universe really is.

Kelsey shut the door to her room at the inn, clicking both locks behind her and letting the silence wash over her. It was time, no hiding from it. She’d seen her with her own eyes days before, spoken to her.

The number in her phone was a new one, sent over this morning as she’d asked of a man down in Georgia who knew a story or three. Pleaded, really. She could run from many things, but the truth seemed to be catching up to her. And she couldn’t put it all together, not without answers. And she had a hell of a lot more questions than she did answers.

The Rayne pack was supposed to be dead.

She’d been a kid when the alpha had shown up on their land, his roar a terrifying memory even now. He’d looked half feral, ranting and raving about taking what was his, what belonged to him. Her father had stood on the porch, gun in hand and she’d been sent back inside, too young to bother listening in as she hid in her closet, where the monsters couldn’t reach her.

Her mother had found her there, scolding the girl for hiding, saying there were worse things to fear in the world than wolves. That was the day Kelsey was taught how to research, comb through books and send emails to others to find out what they would need to take out the pack. Her parents called them all monsters, said they killed plenty, were no longer near human. It would be close to eight years before she realized just how wrong they’d been, the lies, how she was one of the monsters all along too. You can’t hide from the thing you already invited inside.

But Kitty Rayne was alive. Someone somewhere had been very, very wrong.

Just call him, Kelsey. You’ll never know anything if you don’t buck up and grow a spine.

Setting out the charm she’d gotten from Davina to make her phone untraceable, she set to work. The ringing went on for a while, the girl worried she’d been given a bad number until a gruff voice answered, hello short and to the point. “Hi, Mr. Rivera? This is, uhm. Kelsey Caldwell. I was given your number because they said you’d know a bit more about uhm, the Rayne Pack.”

“--I know why you’re calling. Figured the day would come some day. A girl always ends up lookin for her real parents when the ones who take her in turn on her. A tale as old as time, little wolf.”

Kelsey froze, confusion marring her face. “I’m sorry? I think we got a little mixed up sir. I was calling to know about the attack on the Rayne Pack, there were supposedly no survivors. I heard you were nearby, or knew someone who was. What do you mean, parents?”

There was a long silence, too long. And then a quiet murmur resigned. “Well, shit.”

“Sir?”

“I’m sorry Kelsey. They weren’t wrong, I do know all about that hunt on the pack. Too much. Goes back a hell of a lot farther than that day. Your parents --- the Caldwells were wrong to do what they did and I told ‘em as much. Not that they cared much to listen.”

“I-- i’m sorry I really just don’t understand what you’re trying to say. The pack wasn’t breaking the Code?”

“Well, they mighta but --they every tell you how you came to live with them, Kelsey?”

He knew she was adopted, that much was obvious. But the rest? She could feel the weight in her gut, the tightness in her chest. “No...they didn’t. Just that I needed a home, and they knew I was meant to be their daughter.” A load of lies now, they’d wanted a soldier, not a kid with flaws, beliefs.

“I known you since the day you were born, even before that. Me and my wife knew of a pack down by the bayou who’d been targeted over the years, their numbers practically nothin’ by the time we met one. A peaceful folk, not ones to cause a ruckus. But your mama, your birth mama -- she’d been on the run, searching for another pack to ally with, maybe keep ‘em alive. And then she met your dad. He was an alpha of the pack she’d come across. Name was Leo Rayne.”

“What?” it was a gasp, half choked in disbelief. She was grateful he kept going, her own throat had closed to any chance of words.

“But he was a scary man, and not one to cross. Married too. By the time she saw what he really was in the daylight and ran, you were already on the way. So when the time came she gave you to us. Your mama trusted us enough to keep you out of harms way, keep you off his radar. She figured he was comin’ for her, but you could outlive her. But we couldn’t raise you, not the life you’d need. My wife...she gave you to her friend, Alex. She and her husband had the room, two sons already and wanted a daughter. But by the time i’d put it together, it was too late. We’d sent you to a house of hunters just like us. Not a day goes by I don’t regret that choice, little girl. We set you up for disaster, and that’s on me.”

“But.... but we killed them. You’re saying that pack, all those kids...”

“You didn’t do nothing, Kelsey. You were what, eight? Nine? Your parents knew Leo had found out about you, the only reason he’d go stormin’ in to find you. Attacking his pack was retribution, a message. But they killed ‘em all, and that’s something none of us forgave for a real long time.”

“I read on them, I researched them, I showed my mom where their land was!” She shouted, chest rising too rapidly to control. “It was my first assignment! Recon, they called it! You’re telling me my parents had me help murder my father? My -- my half siblings?”

The terrifying wolf on her front lawn, red eyes and fangs and a roar to shake the trees. He’d been her father.

The sigh she hears is deep this time, haunted. “That’s exactly what i’m tellin ya. Wish I didn’t have to, but it’s true.”

She was a Rayne.

Or she should have been, in another life. But Kitty was alive, someone had survived and that meant -- “she’s going to kill me.” Kelsey whispered, eyes wide and shiny. “Oh my god she’d have to, she’d want them dead... me dead. And I can’t even blame her because we... my.. oh my god.” What am I going to do?

“Sir I --- I need to go. I have to... I have to go. Thank you for talking to me.”

“Now Kelsey, calm down, there’s still plenty you don’t know and I know it’s a lot but just hear me out alright? Or call me back when you got a handle on it again. Don’t let this be the last time we talk kiddo. Please.”

She felt like she was hearing him underwater, pulse pounding in her ears. “yeah, yeah. I uhm, will. Thank you. I need to go. Uhm, bye.”

The phone was tossed as far across the bed as it could get, the girl taking in heaving breath after breath as she tried not to sink into the looming panic. She was dead, or a dead girl walking at least. What did she --- what could she do? She’d proven it, a monster does monstrous things. And she was a monster, that was clear.

The girl barely made it to the toilet before emptying her stomach, retching over and over until nothing would leave her. An hour passed, until she gained the strength to rise, stand and reach for her phone, her door key, a knife that she now strapped to her ankle under her jeans.

She needed help, and prayed she might just get it despite the truth.

Alice would be at the shop, she couldn’t let her see her failure yet. Jeremy at work, and she didn’t trust that shop and all the things it held. Scott....what if he’d been wrong? She wasn’t able to keep this, any of it, not with the truth. It was him or Derek, her only chances at staying alive.

So she bolted, barely closing the door behind her and heading into the setting sun, a sprint as she headed towards the lofts where he lived. Kelsey hoped he was there, someone was there who could get her to the people she wished -- no, needed for once. People needed people, and she wouldn’t survive alone. And if she had to run after this all ended, hide in the woods or a cellar somewhere, well,

She should at least say some goodbyes. She owed them that much.

#kelsey — self para.#this got away from me #eyes but FAST emoji #tw: death #tw: vomiting #tw: mentions of murder #i...apologize

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

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804.

1. When was the last time you swam in a pool? >> The last time I was in a pool was probably over 5 years ago, at Easton Mountain. I’m not fond of the way pool water smells. 2. Do you like to party? >> I like gatherings, and get-togethers, and barbecues, and casual social events at someone’s house with food and booze and games. I don’t really care for anything more hectic than that. 3. If your ex suddenly kissed you right now, what would you do? >> --- 4. Are you a virgin? >> No. 5. What are your parents views on your relationships? >> There could never be a relationship that my father would have approved of.

6. If you ran into your current boyfriend/crush in 10 years, would you marry them? >> --- 7. Is your best friend dating anyone? >> --- 8. Describe the shirt you’re wearing? >> It’s black and has the design from the Endless Night Vampire Ball of 2019 on it. 9. Do people who wear Hollister and Abrerbrombie every day bother you? >> Why would that bother me? 10. Could you go out in public without wearing make-up? >> Of course, I do it all the time. 11. What is one feature that you don’t like? >> --- 12. Would people describe you as happy? >> I don’t know how people would describe me. It’s not like I make a habit of asking, and most people don’t make a habit of volunteering that information out of the blue. 13. Are you single? >> No. 14. Does it bother you that pretty much every survey you take asks if you’re single? >> Eh, whatever. For some reason, romantic relationships are of the most pressing importance to a lot of people, and I’ve gotten used to it. 15. Do you have Tumblr? >> Heh. Wouldn’t you like to know.

16. What about Xanga? >> Damn.... RIP. 17. Have you ever babysat before? >> Nope. 18. Is there a teacher who you absolutely hate? >> Well, no, I’m not even in school. 19. Ever shopped at Sephora? >> Yeah, many times. 20. If your current boyfriend/crush suddenly moved away, what would you do? >> The thing about having a spouse whomst you live with is that this kind of thing is way less likely to happen. 21. Do you have any university plans? >> No. 22. If your best friend revealed she was a homosexual, what would you do? >> --- 23. What are your views on sex? >> I don’t have “views” on sex. That’s such a broad question, lmao... 24. Do sexual questions bother you? >> Nah. 25. Would you rather have sex with your boyfriend or break up? >> Wh.................. 26. Have you ever dreamed about your wedding? >> Nah, I was never much into the idea of having a wedding. And then I had one, so you know. Life is like that. 27. Does it bother you when people TYpe 1yk dis’? >> I haven’t seen anyone type like that in almost a decade. The world has moved on. 28. Do you delete pictures of you and your exes off of Facebook? >> --- 29. Would you ever date a friends Ex? >> This is one of those situations that I just can’t at all imagine myself navigating. 30. What’s the last book you read? >> The last book I finished was The King in Yellow. That’s going to be my answer for a while, because the book I’m (re-)reading right now is fucking long. 31. Ready for 10 simple questions? >> Nope. 32. What is your last name? >> Hmm. 33. What grade are you in? >> I’m not in a grade. 34. What school do you go to? >> --- 35. Summer, Fall, Winter or Spring? >> Spring. 36. Favorite Color? >> Gold. 37. Are your parents together? >> No. 38. Any siblings? >> Not worth mention. 39. Favorite subject? >> I don’t have a favourite subject.

40. Least favorite subject? >> Or a least favourite subject. 41. Favorite song? >> People who can choose one favourite song are cryptids. 42. Okay. Simple questions are over. Happy? >> Hopefully I can stop giving such simple answers, too. 43. How many friends do you have on Facebook? >> Thirteen. 44. Ever been requested by some old guy from another country? >> Nope. 45. Have you ever googled yourself? >> Yeah. It’d be a lot harder to google myself now, because I have a fictional character’s name. 46. Have a Formspring? >> Well, no, considering that site is defunct. 47. You’re offered free tickets to a Justin Bieber concert. What do you do? >> Tell whoever it is to give the tickets to someone else? I’m completely uninterested in Justin Bieber. 48. Would you rather spend the day at an amusement park or a water park? >> Amusement park, if I must. 49. Been to Disney world? >> No. 50. If someone posts their status “9 Inches :(” do you know what they mean? >> No. 51. Ever had a boyfriend? >> Yes.

52. Ever had a huge crush on someone who still doesn’t know? >> I don’t know, maybe. 53. Have you done something in the last week that you regret? >> No. 54. Ever drank alcohol? >> Certainly. 55. Know anyone who’s currently doing drugs? >> Sure. 56. Ever watched The Hills? >> No. 57. What about Jersey Shore? >> No. 58. Ever called someone a slut? >> Not seriously. I’ve said it in a joking way to friends who appreciate that sort of banter. 59. What do you think of short shorts? >> I don’t want to wear them. 60. Does it bother you if people swear around you? >> Of course not. 61. Have you ever gotten an A in a subject? >> Yes. 62. What about a B? >> Argh..... yes to all. NEXT 63. And a C? 64. How about a D? 65. Ever skived? >> I don’t know what that is. 66. Would you consider yourself popular and outcast or somewhere in the middle? >> These dynamics don’t really apply to adult life... well, not in my experience. Maybe if I had a more structured social life? 67. Are most of your friends older or younger than you? >> --- 68. Ever been stabbed in the back by a close friend? >> Nah. 69. Do you think it’s immature when people laugh at the number 69? >> I don’t make any judgements about it. 70. Ever watched porn? >> Yep. 71. How many laws do you think you’ve broken in the past month? >> I don’t think I’ve broken any, considering I barely even go outside except to take walks. 72. Do you wake up with an alarm clock? >> No. 73. Do you prefer Wednesdays or Thursdays? >> All days of the week are pretty much interchangeable to me. 74. If your school had a Glee Club would you join? >> --- 75. Ever performed in a talent show? >> Probably. I don’t remember. 76. Have you ever cried in public? >> Yeah. I used to be homeless in a metropolis, privacy wasn’t something I had access to. Guess that might be part of why I’m so big on it now. 77. Do you have a favorite between your Mom and your Dad? >> --- 78. Would you audition for a reality talent competition? >> Fuck no. 79. How many celebrity crushes have you had? >> *shrug* 80. How many non-celebrity crushes have you had? >> *shrug* 81. Name 5 male celebrities who you think are attractive. >> Matthew McConaughey, Peter Mensah, Jeremy Irons, Denzel Washington, Oscar Isaac. 82. Name 5 female celebrities who you think are attractive. >> Sandra Oh, Aisha Hinds, Normani Kordei, Gillian Anderson, Helen Mirren. 83. Ever been compared to a celebrity? >> Yeah, a couple of times. 84. Have any embarrassing pictures on Facebook? >> I only have one photo of myself on facebook. 85. Do you think spending £20 on Lip Gloss is a waste of money? >> It’s not a waste of money for whoever buys it. That person just wouldn’t be me, I have no interest in lip gloss. 86. Are you opinionated? >> Not especially. 87. Do you have a favorite store? >> Nope. 88. Would you ever wear Flare Jeans? >> I did when I was younger, but I doubt I’d be into them now. 89. Do you own jeans that aren’t skinny? >> No. I can’t really fit into any jeans that aren’t stretchy (and the stretchy ones are usually skinny jeans). 90. Have you ever worn the same outfit twice in one week? >> Many times. 91. What’s the longest period of time you’ve been away from school? >> A couple of months, when I was in the psych ward. 92. Do you google abbreviations you don’t understand? >> Yeah. I google almost anything I don’t understand, unless I just have zero interest in understanding. 93. Does it bother you when people have cats as their profile picture? >> Why... would that bother me... 94. Own a pair of converse? >> Nope. I can’t wear any shoe without arch support. 95. Is there a teacher at your school who has obvious favorites? >> --- 96. If yes, are you one of them? >> --- 97. Do you text in class? >> --- 98. What brand of jeans do you wear the most? >> The only pairs of jeans I have are from Old Navy. 99. At what point do you think sizes are “Plus Sized?” >> I don’t know what sizes are plus-sized and I’m not interested in finding out right now. 100. Do you want to lose weight? >> Yes. 101. Ever seen a therapist? >> Yes. 102. Ever watched porn? >> This is a repeat question and I would delete it if the questions weren’t numbered. 103. Ever purposely ignored a text? >> Yeah. 104. A facebook message? >> Yeah. 105. A poke? >> God, when did they finally get rid of those? I haven’t heard about pokes in years. 106. A friend request? >> Yeah. 107. Would you say you read into things too much? >> I don’t know if I read into things too much or not. 108. Is your best friend more likely to be the one suggesting something stupid or refusing to do something stupid? >> --- 109. Do you have a “fun friend?” (A friend who you have tons of fun with but you never really have deep conversations?) >> No. 110. Ever been called a bully? >> No. 111. Ever purposely hurt yourself? >> Many times. 112. Ever gone to church? >> Many times. I think I’ve gotten the gist of it by now. 113. Would you call either of your parents screw ups? >> One of them was certainly a screw-up in caring for their child... 114. If you turned out exactly like your mom would you be pleased? >> Absolutely not, considering that’s the parent I was talking about in the previous question. 115. What do you want to do with your life? >> I don’t have any specific goals for my life. I’m pretty content just living it.

116. Let me guess… You have brown hair? >> Yeah. 117. Already know what you’re being for Halloween? >> I don’t know if I’m ever going to get to dress up for Halloween. We’ll see. 118. Do you still go Trick or Treating? >> I’ve never been and I am way too old for it now. 119. Ever liked someone WAY older than you? >> Like 80% of the celebrities I named in those two questions about attractive celebrities are way older than me. 120. Does it bother you when people have really loud conversations on the bus? >> Only when I don’t have my headphones with me, which is... just about never. I know I have sensory issues, so I come prepared. 121. When you have sunglasses on, do you stare at people? >> Fuck no. 122. Ever had a credit card denied? >> Yeah. 123. What’s the last movie you watched? >> The Lovebirds. 124. Last TV Show? >> Patriot Act. 125. You see your Ex making out with one of your friends. What do you do? >> I can’t imagine this being bothersome to me. Or even significant, honestly. 126. Ever been called a whore? >> No. 127. Are you american? >> Yeah. 128. Ever made yourself throw up? >> Yeah. 129. Have you ever kissed someone who wasn’t your boyfriend? >> Yeah. 130. Are you Cute or Gross? >> What...??? 131. Does it bother you when people say “LOOK HOW MUCH YOU’VE GROWN!”? >> It would bother me if that was a situation I’d ever find myself in. 132. Can you say intelligent things around the guy you like? >> --- 133. Ever had the lead in a play? >> Nope. 134. What about a solo in a concert? >> Nope. 135. What kind of a student are you? >> I’m not a student. 136. Worst subject? >> --- 137. Best subject? >> --- 138. Ever had a crush on a teacher? >> Something like that. 139. Would it bother you if you found out that your mother was pregnant? >> --- 140. How late do you sleep in? >> 9a seems to be my limit. 141. Do you edit your profile pictures before posting them? >> --- 142. Be 100% honest. Do you have any friends who are uglier than you? >> This is so fucking rude. 143. Do you believe in love? >> Yawn. 144. Would you consider yourself a good student? >> --- 145. Does it bother you when Surveys ask “Did you like this survey?” >> Not really, I usually just delete that question because, like... the survey-maker is definitely not going to see it, so what’s the point. 146. Salty, Sweet, Sour or Spicy? >> Salty + sweet, spicy + sweet, spicy + salty, or any of them alone except for sweet. 147. Are you going into High School this year? >> Fuck no lmao 148. What about Junior High? >> Double fuck no lmao 149. What is one thing someone could say to you right now that would make you cry? >> I don’t know, man. That’s usually contextual, anyway. 150. Where did you find this note? >> I got this survey from another survey-taker on tumblr. 151. Last question. How many unread messages are in your phone? >> Zero.

#surveys #survey #random survey #some surveys just don't need to be as long as they are #question quality is in the gutter

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obsidiancreates · 5 years

Text

Old Writing Part Two: Electric Boogaloo

Yeah so uh here’s the “Fandom School” one.

This one has not been seen by even myself since like... October of 2016.

Oh jeez. That’s so long ago. Fuck time.

So this is... the whole story. Each Chapter was super short, the first three are under 400 words, so I just stuck ‘em all in here.

This one... is from 12 year old Sid. Yup. Little baby Sid.

It is bad. I’m warning you now. But perhaps, entertaining. At the very least, a good example of being able to grow and improve with enough practice.

Chapter One: Fangirlish

Abby shouted as she hit the floor. Her brother came running in, a look of worry on his face.

"What was that thud?" he asked.

"I laughed to hard while watching Venturiantale and fell off the bed."

Her brother face-palmed.

"Come on, Jeremy. Don't face-palm. They're funny!" Abby said with a grin.

"They're all you think about! You really need to stop obsessing. "

Abby gasped and looked at him like he just asked her to eat a smelly boot. "How could you say such a thing! Plus, they're not all that I think about. I also think about Doctor Who, and Star Wars, and Tolkien stuff, and Percy Jackson, and My Little Pony, and Monster High, and Warriors. "

Jeremy sighed. "Those are all....what do you call them? Fandoms?"

"Indeed. However, I am obsessed with them because they are beautiful. They are fabulous in ways you do not understand, mortal. Be gone!" Abby cried. She grabbed the ballpoint pen she took with her everywhere and uncapped it. "Be gone, or else you shall face the wrath if Riptide! Wait, Riptide can't harm mortals."

Jeremy sighed again and left the room, muttering about Abby being weird.

Abby went back to her video, laughing her butt off. After she finished it she went and read some Percy Jackson fanfiction. She was deeply absorbed in a very interesting fanfic when her alarm went off. It was time. She got up off her bed and went over to her desk.

She sat down and took out her notebook. She put on some music, written by Venturian of course, and began writing. She was writing a fanfic about Doctor Who.

"Abby, there's someone here to see you!" her mom shouted. Abby sighed, but went downstairs anyway.

She entered the living room to find a girl around her age sitting on the couch. She had blond hair with blue streaks and green eyes. She was wearing a t-shirt that said 'Fandom U' on it.

"Hello Abby, "she said with a grin, "I hear you're quite the fangirl."

Chapter Two: A Fellow Fan

Abby was a little creeped out. Who wouldn't be if a girl you had never met before was sitting in your living room saying she had heard about you?

The girl seemed to notice that Abby was weirded out, and spoke again. "My name is Bell, by the way."

"Bell? Who names their kid Bell?"

Bell laughed. "My mom's favorite movie is Beauty and the Beast. Anyway, you're a fangirl, are you not?"

"Yeah, kinda. And by kinda, I mean totally." Abby said. She was still a bit creeped out, but Bell seemed friendly enough. "Why do you ask? More importantly, how the heck did you hear about me? That's kinda creepy, considering this is the first time I've ever seen you."

Bell smirked. "So you're asking to know my secret?" She said the last part in a creepy voice.

"Wait, you watch Venturiantale? Awesome! But, could you at least answer my first question?"

Instead of responding, Bell handed Abby a piece of paper. It looked like a letter you would get from school. "Here, read this. If you decide you want to attend, just call the number at the bottom of the page." With that Bell left, humming a tune Abby recognized as the theme of Rohan.

She went back up to her room with the paper and began reading it. At the top it said, in big, bolded letters, Fandom U.

That's what Bell's shirt said.

As she read the paper her eyes widened.

Dear Whom It May Concern It has come to our attention that you are a massive fangirl. We are pleased to announce that you have been accepted into Fandom U. All supplies we be provided upon arrival, should you choose to attend. Please note that some fangirls can be dangerous if you speak negatively about their fandom, and the school is not responsible for any injuries should you be insensitive enough to do so.

Sincerely, The faculty of Fandom U

Excitement came over Abby. "I'm going to Fandom U!" she screamed happily.

Chapter 3: Belonging

A few weeks later, Abby was all packed and ready to go. She had called the school and arranged everything. She was sitting at the bus stop, waiting for her transportation. She bounced her leg up and down, a nervous habit of hers. Finally a bus labeled 'Fandom U' arrived. The doors to the bus opened, and Abby couldn't help but stare at the driver.

"Well, get in!" the driver said through his mask. He was dressed in a full on Stormtrooper cosplay. As Abby stepped onto the bus, she wondered how he wasn't being baked alive in the heat.

She discovered that each row represented a different fandom. She took a seat in the Doctor Who section because it, somehow, had more room then the other sections. The bus started up, making the same sounds the T.A.R.D.I.S makes. Abby stared out at her hometown, feeling excitement at what lay before her. She leaned back in her seat, humming fandom songs. Normally people would look at her like she was crazy, but instead everyone joined in, humming with her.

She had found where she belonged, and she loved it. The whole bus ride was filled with fan theories, discussions about characters, and tons of references. It was the most fun Abby ever had!

After what seemed like only minutes, they had arrived. Abby looked up at the building in front of her in awe.

It was enormous, like a castle. Above the door there was a huge sign reading 'Welcome to Fandom U!'. The building was shaped in an unusual way. So unusual that Abby wasn't even sure what shape it was. The outer walls were painted with so many fandom symbols that Abby had a hard time seeing anything else.

"Abby!" a voice called. Abby turned around to see Bell running towards her. "Abby, great news! They made me your escort!"

"Escort?"

"Well, yeah. It's a huge school. Plus it's your first day. I'm here to show you around!" Bell said.

She looked at Abby's face, which was still a face of awe. Bell grinned and said "Abby, welcome to Fandom U!"

Chapter 4: Orientation

"This place is amazing!" Abby said. She looked over at Bell, who seemed just as excited as Abby felt.

"Wait until you see the inside," Bell said. She started walking and motioned for Abby to follow. Abby grinned and walked with her into the school.

The inside was more amazing than the outside. The entrance was decorated with hundreds of pieces of fandom merch from hundreds of different fandoms. Abby noticed a T.A.R.D.I.S replica, a statue of a cave troll from The Lord of the Rings, a replica of Luke Castilian's sword Backbiter, and what appeared to be a statue of Papa Achachalla.

As she and Bell continued to wherever they were headed, Abby took in everything she could. The halls were each themed around a different fandom. There was a Doctor Who hall styled like the inside of a Dalek spacecraft, a Narnia hall styled like the Pevensy's castle, a Lord of the Rings hall styled like the halls of Rivendell, and a Venturiantale hall decorated with the channel's colors and each of the siblings emblems, among many others.

The classroom doors were all shut, so Abby didn't get the chance to see inside. She followed Bell to a large room resembling a theater.

"Welcome to the auditorium! This is where all the assemblies are held, as well as the school plays!" Bell said. She led Abby over to the very middle row and took a seat. She motioned for Abby to sit next to her, which is just what Abby did.

"This room is huge! How many students are there?" Abby asked.

"I'm not sure. A few hundred, maybe. Possibly more," Bell answered. "Oh, orientation's starting! We better stop talking. "

All the other students had sat down while they were talking. They all went quiet as a lady walked up on stage. "Greetings, students! I am Miss Silnet, your headmistress," she announced. Abby was shocked. The lady definitely wasn't dressed like a headmistress. She wore a camp Half-blood t-shirt underneath a black sweatshirt, a pair of jeans with fandom references doodled all over them, and a pair of plain red sneakers. Her ginger hair was pulled into a loose braid with bits of silver weaved in. She couldn't have been older than thirty, yet was still clearly a fangirl.

"Welcome to Fandom U! I'm sure some of you new students are curious as to what the U stands for. Most people think it means university. However, a university is a collage, and here all ages of fans are welcome. The U in fact stands for United. We are all united under our love of our fandoms! Join me as I say the school's pledge," she said. She put her hand on her heart and began the pledge, with many returning students saying it with her.

To be obsessed For all our lives, To value the next part Over the next school test. To love those who do not love back, To stalk them on the Internet. To unite as one Under the fandom sun.

Abby looked around her, thinking about how all these people had similar interests, habits, preferences, possibly even crushes as her. She realized that they truly were united in their love of fandoms. She could tell this was going to be her best school year ever.

Chapter 5: Classes

After orientation Bell lead Abby to her dorm. The room had two beds, two dressers, two closets, two trashcans, two desks, two bookshelves, and, to Abby's surprise, two TVs. There was a dark blue couch in front of each TV, the bedding was purple on both beds, and at each desk there was a chair made of oak with dark green built-in cushions. There was a large window in the middle of the wall leading outside, with a view of the huge field behind the school. In front of the window was a kitchen, complete with all the cooking utensils you could ever need. On both sides of the room there was a private bathroom with a shower, sink, medicine cabinet, mirror, and, of course, toilet.

"This room is amazing!" Abby marveled.

"It gets better. Guess who your dorm mate is. Me!" Bell said. Abby was very happy to hear that. Despite having only known Bell for a short time, the two seemed to be best friends. Plus, Bell was the only person Abby actually knew!

Abby then noticed the large boxes sitting by the desks. They were labeled School Supplies.

"So, which side do you want?" Abby asked Bell.

"Hm. The right side, I think."

"Okay!" Abby said. She set down her luggage, which she had been hauling around all day, on her bed. She walked over to her desk and opened the box.

Inside was everything a fangirl could need. There was a laptop, about a dozen brand new books, some notebooks, some pencils, some pens, a spare phone charger for both Apple and Android brands, a charger for the laptop, an extra pillow in case of a feels attack, a sketchbook for fanart, colored pencils, and many course books for class.

She closed the box, not feeling like unpacking it. Her eyes fell on some paper on her desk. She picked it up and asked Bell, "What's this?"

"It's a list of all the different classes you can take. In this school you get to choose all your own classes! What you do is pick your five main fandoms, then pick two classes per fandom. Later one of the teachers will come to collect it. They enter it into a computer, which then devises a schedule," Bell explained.

"Oh. Thanks!" Abby said. She turned her attention back to the paper. On the first page were five spots to write her fandoms. She thought for awhile, then chose Doctor Who, Percy Jackson, Venturiantale, Star Wars, and Warriors.

She turned to the next page, which had a list of the different classes for each fandom. She read over all the options, then chose the ones that interested her most.

Abby's choices:

Venturiantale: Tale Fighting, the class where you learn to fight like the Tale characters, and Lore 101, the study and attempt to make sense of VT lore.

Percy Jackson: Demigod Combat, the class where you learn how to fight like a Demigod, and Camp Cooking, the class of learning to cook the meals they eat at camp.

Doctor Who: A Study of Time, the class on understanding how time works, and Regeneration History, the study of the Doctor's personal history.

Warriors: Knowing Your Herbs, the class on healing methods the clans use, and Warriors Speak 101, the study of Warriors phrases and words.

Star Wars: Understanding the Force, the study of what the Force is as well as how it is used, and Dark vs Light, a debate class studying the pros and cons of each side in an attempt to find out which one is truly better.

Abby finished filling out the paper and looked over at Bell, who appeared to be doing the same.

Abby and Bell spent the rest of the night unpacking. Abby discovered that the closest was filled with fandom clothes, as well as the dresser. "How did they know my size?" she asked, a tad creeped out.

"Your mom had to put it on your admission papers."

"Oh."

Just before Abby went to bed there was a knock at the door. The teacher had come by to collect the class papers. After the girls had handed them over they got into bed. Bell seemed to fall asleep pretty quick, but Abby stayed up for hours,unable to sleep at the anticipation of the next day.

And then I never wrote Chapter Six. I guess she overslept, huh? Heh.

#my old writing #Whaaat no Abby's not a self-insert named after my favorite Monster High character #Psssh that's- that's crazy talk

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maxineswritingcenter · 5 years

Text

Hunting Dreams

@laphirablack : Okay, angsty request ahead. Could you do one shot of dean x reader where she lives the whole hunting things, saving people, family business, with Dean, just to wake up and realize that she was in a coma for a while and everything was a dream.

Awh shit, here we go again

-------------------------------------------------

"Ma'am?" The very handsome FBI agent, Dean Smith waved his hand in front of (Y/N)'s face. She had been too distracted by his green eyes to even realize what he was saying.

"I'm sorry." She blushed, perfect professionalism, (Y/N).

"What did you ask?" I avoided looking into his eyes. Agent Smith smirked at her, but asked again.

"The report said that the only things missing from the storage were a couple pints of blood." He was referring to the fridge that the blood bank she worked for kept valuable samples, mainly O+.

"Yeah, they just took a couple shelves full, nothing else." She chuckled, "I don't know what they would do with it unless there's a vampire running around town."

Agent Smith smiled, "Ya never know, do ya?" He closed his notepad and stood up from where he had been leaning on the counter. In the doorway she saw his tall partner, also Agent Smith, no relation.

He handed her a card, with his name and contact information, "Anything else happens, just give me a call." She nodded.

He winked, both him and his partner walking out the door. She watched them, they talked as they got into a really nice old car.

The day went on as usual. A few people stopped by to donate blood after the recent hurricane. (Y/N) was on the closing shift tonight. Which meant going through the rooms and cleaning them for the next day and taking inventory. It was hard work, but at least it made a difference.

She had just finished cleaning the last room. She sighed and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She grabbed her clipboard with a notepad and made her way towards the refrigerator. But it was open slightly. She stopped in her tracks and stared at the door. She swore she had shut it after she put in the last donation. And she was supposed to be the only one left here.

She backed away slowly and set the clipboard on the counter. She pulled out her phone and punched in the Agent's number.

"Detective Smith." He answered on the first ring. She didn't answer though. She felt a cold hand on her back and her whole body stiffened. She fell back on the ground, paralyzed. Her head bounced off the ground, her vision started to fade. All she saw was a man with glowing blue eyes and tattoos all over his face over her. And all she heard was Agent Smith's voice calling out as she slipped into darkness.

"Hey!" (Y/N) heard a deep voice shout. She scrunched her face up as the pain started pounding her her head.

"Hey!" The voice said again, "Come on, wake up." The person grabbed her shoulder and shook her lightly. She slowly opened her eyes to see Agent Smith, and the other Agent Smith. But the Agent Smith shaking her was the one with the green eyes that made butterflies in her stomach.

"What... What's going on?" When her vision cleared, she looked around. She was in the clinic, exactly where she fell. Agent Smith smiled at her.

"There you are, sweetheart." He said, he helped her to her feet. She stumbled and held onto his arm for support.

"Take it easy." The tall Agent Smith held his hands out. They both looked different than they had that morning. They weren't wearing suits anymore. They were in casual clothes. Jeans, boots, flannels, jackets. A little too many layers for the time of year but whatever. What really brought her back to her senses was that the other Agent Smith was holding a bloody knife.

She gasped and yanked her arm away from the first agent, backing into a wall.

"Get the hell away from me!" She said, reaching over into a cabinet and grabbing whatever she could. In this case it was a syringe. She held it out to him. The agents shared a glance.

"I know how to use this!" She said, her confidence wavering at the fact that she was threatening the two with a tiny needle.

"Sam, put the knife away. Christ." The first agent said. Sam looked at the knife then quickly put it away.

Agent Dean took a few steps forward with his hands up, "Drop the needle. You're safe now. You were attacked by a djinn. He had the tattoos and the blue eyes. He was stealing blood and when we got here he was about to take yours." The only reason she believed him was the fact that he described what she saw.

"How do I know you're not one of them?" She only lowered the needle a little.

"I don't do tattoos, sweetheart." He smirked. She looked between the two of them and put the needle back where she found it.

"So what are you guys? Ghostbusters or something? Because last time I checked FBI didn't hunt djinn or whatever else." She asked, still wary.

"We're hunters, we hunt monsters. My name is Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean." Sam said.

"Pleasure." Dean winked. She forced her blush down.

"Alright so, what now?" She asked.

"What now is that you're coming with us." Dean said, "Djinn's have a big extended family and they'll come after you. Your best bet is being safe with us."

This was insane. Not only did she have two fake FBI agents telling her that monsters were real. But now they were telling her to abandon her life here. And something told her deep inside that this couldn't possibly be real. But... Shove gut feelings.

"Alright. Let's go to my place and grab my stuff-"

"Already taken car of." Dean smiled, "Let's head out." He said it quickly, but that didn't seem to bother her. They made their way out to the classic car and got inside.

"In the back, Sammy." Dean smiled, "Pretty lady gets to ride shot gun." Sam rolled his eyes and got into the back seat. It was almost comical, his knees were up against his chest.

(Y/N) got into the front seat and ran her hands over the dashboard.

"She's a beauty, ain't she?" Dean asked as he closed the driver side door.

"She sure is." She smiled and leaned back against the leather seat.

Dean shoved a cassette tape into the radio and turned it up. Classic rock started blaring out of the speakers.

"Welcome to the family business, (Y/N)."

---

(Y/N) soon got the hang of hunting. She seemed to have a natural talent for it. She helped the brothers take down vampire nests, exorcise demons, a werewolf or two. The hunts had been in places she had been before so she knew how to get around, the usual hiding places. She even used her medical training to help patch the boys up. It was odd though, Dean had told her that she would feel guilty of killing them at first. See their faces. But the strange thing was that after they died, she couldn't remember their faces. Almost like they were just becoming numbers on her list. It started to scare her.

She knocked on Dean's room at the motel they had been staying. Dean opened the door and grinned. He was only wearing a pair of jeans and a black tank top. She avoided looking anywhere but his eyes.

"Hey." She smiled, "I just wanted to check in a see how your cut was healing." She motioned to his arm that had been pretty scratched up after the last demon.

"Sure, come on in." He stepped out of the doorway. She entered and looked around. It looked like hers, almost a carbon copy of something she had seen on TV. But it wouldn't looked like that on TV of there wasn't some truth to it.

Dean sat on the bed. She sat next to him and refrained from running her hands over his muscles even though she desperately wanted to. The cut on his arm was still healing. But no red so that was good.

"Looks good." She said, "No infection. I'd still put a little Neosporin on it every now and again." Dean turned to look at her.

"Why'd you really come here?" He asked, "Besides to check me out." She rolled her eyes and shoved him softly.

"I uh... I don't know, I just feel like I'm not feeling any guilt for killing these monsters." She sighed, "Like one of them was my old college boyfriend and I just feel... Nothing. And ya know, I'm a very emotional person. I just feel like I can't feel anything." She looked at her fingers. Was something wrong with her? She cried at UP and now she can't even feel a little bad for literally stabbing her ex in the back with a machete.

The bed shifted and Dean was just inches from her face. Looking at him felt like she was about to burst. She could feel. But all she could feel was the growing connection between her herself and this cocky, charming hunter.

"Baby," He whispered. He licked his lips, lightly biting the tip of his tongue.

Well now he was just doing it on purpose.

"I could show you how to feel again." He said slyly. Was... Was he implying?

"I.... I uh..." She stammered. He put a finger to her lips and grinned at her.

"It's alright, baby. Just let me show you." He slowly laid her back down the on the soft mattress. He straddled her lap and looked down at her like she was prey. Which should not be as arousing as it was.

~~I don't want Tumblr to take this down~~

Dean fell besides her on the mattress laughing between his panting.

"Well, I felt a little something." He grinned.

(Y/N) sighed contently. She had almost felt something. A large something. And she didn't mean.... Him. That was the first time she had really felt anything in a while. And that's how it went. In the heat of the moment she felt everything. And then as quickly as it came, it was gone again.

"That was...." She began.

"Ahuh?" He asked, pulling her closer to him.

"Perfect." She whispered and kissed him lightly. He hummed, the sound made his chest vibrate against her ear.

"Get some rest." He kissed the top of her head, "Long drive ahead of us tomorrow.

But it wasn't really a long drive. They were going to Indiana which was only about an hour away. He told her they had been all over the country but an hour was a long ride?

"Please!" The demon held his hands out in surrender. This demon had been someone (Y/N) had known from college. His name was Jeremy, he was annoying as all hell. She stalked over him with the demon killing knife. They had been on countless more hunts but still. Nothing gave her true feelings anymore. It felt like she was just going through the motions and tomorrow it would start up again.

"Shut up." She glared and stabbed him. She watched him glow orange from the inside then drop. She got on top of the demon, shaking with rage. She took the knife in both hands and stabbed the corpse again and again.

"(Y/N, stop!" Sam shouted as he ran into the room. She kept going, stabbing through bone and meat. With each stab she felt more and more angry and she cried more and more.

"Baby!" Dean called, he grabbed her and pulled her away from the body. She was sobbing now, her whole body shaking.

"I can't feel anything!" She cried, dropping the knife, "Why can't I feel anything?!" She held her head. Sam and Dean shared a glance.

"Come on, baby. You need to rest." He helped her up.

"No! I need to feel something. And if it's pain then it's pain." She ran out the door of the abandoned building and into the alley.

"(Y/N)!" Dean called behind her. She just kept running until she got to the sidewalk. It was a busy street. And she was willing to do anything. She saw a bus heading her way. She gulped and took a step into the road. She could hear Dean and Sam getting closer. It wasn't fair to them. It wasn't fair to her. She had to try. She ran out in front of the bus. The last thing she remembered were the bright headlights, the horn blaring and Dean screaming her name.

"Hey!" (Y/N) heard a deep voice shout. She scrunched her face up as the pain started pounding her her head. This was too familiar. She opened her eyes quickly and saw the ceiling of an abandoned warehouse. She tried to sit up but fell back. She felt so tired and week. Like how you feel after you got way too much blood drawn. She rolled over and leaned on her elbows. She dragged herself to a table and stood up. She could hear grunting and struggling coming from the other room. She hobbled her way there and gasped. There was the djinn... And... Dean was there. But if the djinn was here and not dead that meant... Meant everything had been a dream...

She saw Dean and the Djinn struggling. Dean had a tight grip of the Djinn's wrist but was struggling to hold it back. There was a knife, presumably dipped in lamb's blood ok the floor. Sam stood up from the ground, attempting to get to his brother.

(Y/N) grabbed the knife from the floor.

"Sam!" She called out. He looked at her, slightly confused. She threw him the knife. He caught it and stabbed the Djinn in the back. It stumbled back a minute before falling back dead.

Dean panted and looked up at (Y/N). She looked in pretty rough shape, probably because she had been having her blood drained from her for a week.

She smiled at Dean and leaned against the doorway, "Sup boys, long time now see."

Sam chuckled as he panted, "You got out of the Djinn's spell. How did you know?"

She shrugged, looking at Dean, "I may not know the real thing. But that wasn't the real thing. And I couldn't get out of their fast enough." Suddenly she felt very light headed, she watched Dean and Sam run to grab her as she fell.

"So you know?" Sam asked. She nodded, trying to ignore the beeping from the heart monitor. The boys had brought her to the hospital.

"Only because you told me." She said awkwardly, "The Djinn made me dream that I was a hunter like you. Even though I could have had no clue what that even meant. But that's what I got."

"How did you know it wasn't right?" Dean asked from the chair besides the bed.

"So... For one thing, everything I was seeing were things, people I had seen before. And I just... I could feel any emotions besides a few."

"What were they?" The question she was avoiding, thanks Sam.

"I could feel angry and I felt...." She looked at Dean from the side. She didn't wanna say lust because uh yeah, that was a big one. He looked genuinely curious and that's what made her heart rate spike.

Dean put a hand up, "Alright alright, let's calm down here. You already lost a lot of blood, now's not the time for a heart attack."

"Thank you." She relaxed back into the bed, "So.... Are you guys gonna leave?" Another question she had wanted to avoid.

"Well, yeah. Djinn's dead. Time to hit the road to find the next one." Dean said as he stood from the chair. She looked away. It wasn't normal that she should be disappointed but she had just spent what felt like a year of her life with Sam and Dean. She knew it wasn't real but she... She loved Dean. Whether he was real or not. But that wasn't fair to him.

Dean saw her look and put a hand on her shoulder, "Hey, kid. Chin up. With all the Djinn knowledge... Who knows. Maybe you could help us out."

"Really?" She sat up.

"Really. You hear anything around town that goes bump in the night. Give me a call, and we'll come as soon as we can." His words gave her little joy. They were still leaving without her. Dean leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"See ya around." He winked. Then both brothers left her in her hospital room.

She laid back against her pillow. Once and hunter. Always a hunter. Even in your dreams. She'd go out on her own. Maybe run into the brothers. And maybe she could feel what the Family Business was really like.

-------------------------------------------------

Don't ya hate it when you're Djinn gives you the information you need to Destroy it.

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itsstickball · 5 years

Note

Can you please write more of the rivalry thing? It’s soooo good. I would love to see Neil’s teams reaction

I didn’t forget you, I promise!! Here is Rivalry pt. 3: All Star Week

(pt.1 pt. 2)

Three days before the start of All Star week, Neil makes the mistake of posting the kitten video he meant to send as a private message directly to his twitter feed. In the clip, a kitten bats away a ball a few times before missing three in a row. The final attempt, the ball goes directly over its head and the kitten topples backwards trying to stop it. By the time he figured out that it hadn’t gone directly to Andrew, there were several hundred likes already. Rather than try to find the tutorial again on how to delete a twitter post, he tags Andrew in a comment instead and adds #shootout.

He doesn’t realize the magnitude of his mistake until he’s sitting in front of a camera, geared up for the shoot-out event, with a microphone two inches from his face and an excited looking reporter.

They’ve made it through the general questions. How does it feel to be called an All Star after only three years in the professional league? (Satisfying, but not as good as being signed to Court last spring). Which event is he looking forward to the most? (The final game, obviously) Does he have any tricks up his sleeve for the shootout? (We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?) The sudden gleam in the reporter’s eyes should have tipped Neil off that things were about to go a bit sideways, but he was running on an Exy high and so dismissed it as fervor for the sport he loved.

Looking back, he can practically hear Andrew’s voice in his head: “Junkie.”

“Speaking of the shootout, we can’t help but wonder; most guys -”

“- And girls.”

“Right, most guys and gals treat this week as a celebration of talent, putting aside rivalries and bad blood to just enjoy the sport, but it fans seem to think from your recent social media postings that this might not be the case for you.”

Neil tried to think about which post, in particular, the reporter is referring to. The only person he can remember roasting recently is Nicky, and he’s in Germany doing – well, Neil doesn’t actually know what he’s doing (Erik aside). Thankfully, the reporter had taken his blank look in stride and then exposed more on the situation. Truthfully though, Neil didn’t hear much more than “Minyard” and “kitten.” His expression flattened further as the lightbulb in his head went off. He still didn’t get the merit of his so called rivalry with Andrew, but apparently it made for good media coverage and the blonde hadn’t mentioned anything about stopping it or setting the record straight, so Neil didn’t fight it either.

He shrugged at the reporter.

“Someone told me once that life imitated art. So I guess we’ll just have to see if that’s true or not. With no plays to analyze, Andrew will have to actually put some effort in to protect his goal today.”

Unfortunately – or fortunately, really, for the media. Andrew did not imitate the cat video and stopped roughly 80% of the shots. Of Neil’s, he missed one and blocked the other.

After that, the goalie sat and watched as the rest of the players took part in passing, aim, trick shots, speed, and one-on-one competitions – most of which kept Neil busy.

When it came time for the one-on-one, Neil grinned when he saw who his first opposing backliner would be. Jean seemed less than enthused, but Neil was more than used to that by now. Just because Jean wasn’t smiling didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying himself. If anything, his resting bitch face was just as famous as Andrew’s – maybe more.

The backliner turned his head when Neil called out his name and a greeting in French, his expression flattening when he realized who was talking to him. Annoyance was easily Jean’s most common reaction to Neil’s presence, but he put up with him nonetheless.

“Ah, so you’ve come to antagonize someone other than the midget for once.”

He answered in French. Neil faked shock with a hand to his chest as he jogged over to where Jean stood, but let out a laugh.

“I’m wounded that you think so little of me, Jean, really.”

“Yes, little.” Jean replied, icily looking down at Neil. Their height difference was supremely pronounced now that they stood next to each other. Neil gave him a wry look for that one, but Jean had a point. Instead he tugged on the corner of Jean’s sleeve.

“How about instead of insulting my mother’s genes, we talk about your new team. Please tell me you switched for the captain, not for the color scheme.”

The Sacramento Sentinels were a relatively new team, with only one full season under their belt. They also chose the colors gold and black to represent them – both of which Jean wore at some point during his college career. Neil was far more interested in Jean’s reunion with exy’s golden boy Jeremy Knox than any homage to the backliner’s former teams. He watched with a grin as Jean’s eyes involuntarily sought Jeremy out among the players. He scowled when he looked back down and saw Neil’s amused expression.

“Just for that, I’m not letting you get twenty feet from the goal, ma puce!”

Neil laughed as Jean pushed him to the bench with a large hand on his face and then stalked away. His grin only grew when he saw that Jean was, in fact, heading over to where Jeremy was talking with their coach for the game at the end of the week.

True to his word, Jean kept Neil well away from any easy close shots on goal, forcing the striker to resort to a strange trick-shot hail-mary that made it in more on luck than skill. Jean snorted and shook his head when Neil cheered at the goal, but he accepted Neil’s handshake-turned-hug nonetheless.

The rest of the week was a blur of exy and stolen moments with Andrew in the locker room or hotel. Andrew’s transfer to Denver at the end of last season put him in the same division as Neil, meaning they’d have to play and practice on the same team for the All Star game. The increased proximity brought great joy to the striker, even if Andrew continued to glare as he batted Neil’s shots away or look bored as they sailed past him.

Neil could feel the measured looks and camera focus whenever the team practiced for the game at the end of the week.

On Wednesday, after the sixth shot that Andrew had rebounded with just enough force that the strikers had to sprint to rebound it, their All Star coach called for a break. Neil removed his helmet and turned to face Andrew from half court.

“Are you going to shut Kevin out like that on Saturday?” He called out in Russian, not bothering to keep his voice down. From what he knew, none of the others on their team spoke the language. Andrew followed suit, taking his gear off and letting everything but his helmet and stick fall carelessly to the floor.

“What will you give me in return?”

Andrew tossed back. He sounded bored, but just the fact that he was replying at all told Neil he was interested in the deal.

“What, the sheer satisfaction of denying Kevin doesn’t do it for you anymore?”

He shot back, earning one of Andrew’s arm guards thrown at his face. Aware of the eyes watching them from the outer court and the open door, Neil grinned and put as many expletives in his answer as possible.

Andrew rolled his eyes, finally coming up to where Neil stood waiting. He grabbed his glove from the red-head’s grip and pointed it menacingly at him. In English, he said.

“Someone ought to wash that mouth of yours out before it gets you in trouble.”

Only when Andrew stomped past them did Neil take note of the reporters who had paused in their interview of a Dallas backliner to watch their little interaction. His smile turned a little less genuine and slightly sharper until they went back to what they were doing. He didn’t bother to collect any of Andrew’s gear, but hummed to himself as he fetched his water-bottle and then sat down to chat with his fellow strikers.

Andrew hadn’t said no.

He did, however, put fuck all effort into guarding his goal in the preliminary game against the Pacific division on Friday though. Neil flicked him off when he realized what Andrew was doing, grateful that he would only be playing one half. Because the goalie was putting zero effort in, it meant that Neil and the other strikers who played first half had to double theirs in order to keep the goal differential down.

“I fucking hate you.”

Neil wheezed, gasping for breath as they headed back to the locker room afterward. He’d never cared much for the shows that supposedly big stars put on during the halftime breaks at professional games, and he especially didn’t care about whatever spectacle they had planned between the preliminary games and the final All-Star match. No, after clinching a 10-9 win, all he wanted to do was rest until he had to get up and do it all again against the Eastern teams.

Andrew, lumbering ahead of him and quite unaffected by it all, didn’t even have the good graces to wait for him.

“No, Junkie, that’s my line. Or did all that running finally scramble your brain?”

“Ugh. Always.”

Neil groaned and though the look Andrew shot him for it was lethal, he was willing to bit it tugged into a smile as he shouldered through the doorway into the locker rooms. A few of his teammates tried to talk to him about the game, how it went well, all things considered and such things, but he mostly tuned them out as he grabbed his water bottle and joined the string of people disbanding into the locker room.

They played first, so the Central team had over an hour to sit and mingle. Neil smiled when he saw a couple of his teammates and members of the Pacific team walking around with their jersey and a marker. When the first one got to him, he asked what it was for. Laila Dermott grinned down at him, making sure that he took the items and started signing as she spoke.

“Some of the players just keep them as souvenirs – a cool way to remember all of the people they played with that year. A couple of us auction them off for charity. This year the proceeds are going to Stand Up For Kids. It’s an organization working to help homeless kids and those out on the streets.”

“Oh, cool.”

Neil said, a bit stunned by the generosity. He knew from Nicky’s ranting how much a normal jersey worn by a professional athlete could go for, let alone one signed by this many of them.

“Ah yes, gotta keep them off the streets,” Andrew piped up. Somehow, Neil had missed him coming up beside them. “Wouldn’t want them to get into anything dangerous.”

Laila frowned, but Neil didn’t think trying to engage Andrew on some social justice issue was worth the risk. He cut her off by handing her the jersey and marker back and replying himself.

“Don’t be a dick, Andrew.”

The blonde made a show of plucking the Jersey out of his fellow goalie’s hands and signing his name in the largest space available. He flicked his gaze back up to Neil even as he held the shirt and marker back out to Dermott.

“Who said I was?”

Neil let out a huff and stood, grateful that he’d brought slides to wear between games rather than his usual running shoes.

“I’m not doing this here.”

He said. He gave Laila a brief smile and then headed for the hallway. Hopefully most of the reporters would have returned to the outer court to watch the Eastern and Southern division teams play. At the very least, he could find an open office somewhere. Behind him, he heard the noise from the locker room crescendo as someone opened the door behind him. As it swung shut, he faintly heard someone asking if they should stop Minyard from following him. Neil sincerely hoped they didn’t – for everyone’s sake.

When Andrew closed the office door behind them, effectively cutting them off from the rest of the world, Neil felt something settle. Of course, just because he was more comfortable this way didn’t mean he wasn’t cross with Andrew still. The blonde seemed unimpressed as he turned to see how Neil was leaning up against the desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Are you going to spit it out, or waste my time staring?”

“I’m not mad about the comments to Dermott.” He clarified, mostly because he knew Andrew would be entirely uninterested if he thought that was what had Neil bothered. Then again, he probably wouldn’t like the actual topic of his ire either. Neil sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit of frustration he’d picked up from Matt.

“You couldn’t have blocked…I don’t know, half of the shots?”

He asked exasperatedly. True to form, Andrew’s expression flattened.

“That,” He enunciated with great boredom and disdain. “Wasn’t our deal.”

Four words. All it took was four words for Neil to be simultaneously filled with petty ire and a huge sense of relief and satisfaction. Because when Andrew implied that something wasn’t a part of a deal, it meant that there was something else that was.

“Oh.”

Neil breathed, letting all of his anxiety wash out with it.

Andrew looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. He stepped into Neil’s space.

“Yes, or no?”

Neil’s eyes were drawn to the curve of Andrew’s neck, the golden sheen of his eyes in the dimly lit room, the way his lips were slightly damp from licking them. Compulsively, he licked his own lips, but his eyes strayed to the clock on the far wall.

“We don’t have a lot of time before we have to get back, someone’s bound to notice us missing for too long.”

The dead look Andrew gave him said he’d wait for an actual answer. Neil heeded his own observation, however, and didn’t waste time talking. Instead, he leaned forward the last few inches and aligned his lips with Andrew’s.

Later, the final buzzer sounded and Neil whirled to face the scoreboard with a grin. He always had the goals running in his head, but it was indescribably satisfying to have the numbers glowing down at him from the jumbotron. Central 6, Eastern 5. They’d won. Even if it was only by the one point, Neil felt the victory singing in his veins. His teammates yelled and jumped off of each other like they hadn’t just run their legs out for the past twenty minutes. Neil joined them briefly before turning his attention to the goal.

Andrew never joined his teams in celebrations - not once he was sober, and no one ever tried to include him. It was a bit of a shock then to see him leaning casually on his stick talking to another player. The surprise mitigated significantly, however, when he realized that the other player was Kevin. Judging by his stance, he didn’t seem to be picking a fight, but with Kevin and Andrew that was always just a breath away from changing.

Neil excused himself with a slap on the back from the huddle of players to jog over to them. As he joined them, he caught the tail end of Kevin’s sentence.

“…tell me it wasn’t worth it.”

“Mmm,” Andrew mused, taking a moment like he actually had to think about his answer. Neil almost felt bad for how Kevin fell for it every damn time.

“Not quite.” He said, to Kevin’s vocal dismay. Then his eyes slid over to where Neil stood just behind Kevin’s shoulder. “Not yet.”

Kevin made another half-squawk as he turned around to follow Andrew’s gaze, but his expression narrowed when he saw it was just Neil.

“Of course.” He muttered, running a gloved hand down his face. He gave Neil a disapproving look.

“If I were to take his neck guard off, how many hickies would I see?”

Neil grinned wolfishly, but it was Andrew who replied.

“Why don’t you come try to find out for yourself, Kev?”

The taller striker shot a fearful glance behind him and then physically shook it off.

“God you two were meant for each other. How anybody thinks you’re rivals is blind to the most blatant sexual tension I’ve ever seen.”

He grumbled, removing his gloves and clearly getting ready to leave the court. Neil didn’t mind dragging their conversation out, but Kevin seemed to have a sixth sense for how long a private conversation could be before it drew unwanted media attention.

“It was a good game!” Neil called out after him, earning a sharp grin and a wave from Kevin, even if he didn’t stop walking away.

Andrew caught his attention again my poking him in the chest with his racquet. Neil lifted his eyebrows in question.

“Go shower before the exy stench sinks even further into you.” He said in Russian. Neil mirrored the grin he’d given Kevin.

“And here I thought it was too late for that.”

Andrew didn’t respond to that, just pushed Neil towards the locker room again with the giant head of his racquet.

When he was ten steps away, Andrew called out again from behind him.

“And don’t antagonize any fucking reporters. You have a deal to uphold!”

At this, Neil just laughed and flicked Andrew off behind his back.

Unsurprisingly, someone got a great picture of it to plaster across exy news and fan sites alike in the morning. Neil saved it to his phone and then rolled back over into the warm spot Andrew left when he got up to pee.

#aftg #tfc #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #minyard-josten rivalry #the rivalry #all for the game #Jean moreau #Kevin day #blink and you miss it jerejean #can you tell I follow hockey?#this was way longer than I thought when I was writing it #mkkd2611 #you are my first ask and I will cherish you forever

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side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years

Note

Yo yo yo I need to kno more about Cleo!!!

After nearly a month (possibly more) here are some answers! Thanks for your ask, love

Tradition states that only rival heirs of the Moriyamas are sent to the branch family. As a girl, Riko was never a threat. However, since Riko’s mother died giving birth to her, Kengo blames the death of his wife on Riko and banishes her. The thing about the Moriyamas are that they’re coldhearted bishes so, when they love, they love with everything they’ve got. With Kengo’s wife dead, his life is cold and empty once more. The name Riko is not be uttered in the Moriyama household, especially not near Kengo. He will scream and cry and throw things. His grief is loud and violent. Many of Kengo’s men are from his wife’s family or were saved by her from disease and poverty. They owe her their lives and in her dying moments she called them all together to ask of them one last favor. She asked them to renew their pledges to Kengo and be there for him, no matter the cost. None of them refuse. Many silent tears are shed at her funeral. Anyway, all of the men are exceptionally loyal to him bc of this promise. Knowing Kengo’s frenzied grief if over the loss of the woman who loved them all as if they were her own children strengthens their bond with him. All of them secretly keep tabs on Riko, though. She looks just like her mother and it soothes their ragged souls to see their Mistresses features on her daughter.

Kengo’s men aren’t the only people secretly seeking solace in Riko. All the mystery shrouding the existence of his sister is the reason Ichirou was so intrigued by her. You know how Ania has a binder full of snippets of Kevin and Riko and their achievements and stuff? He has one too, dedicated solely to his sister. He secretly watches her games and interviews.

Kengo’s sister, Kana, is always around. She is Kengo’s best friend and closest advisor. When Kengo’s grief gets too much for him, Kana is the one that picks up his broken pieces. At all of the ridiculous fundraising functions they have to attend, Ichirou catches Kana making funny faces at Kengo from across the room. He's stunned by the sight of the soft twitch of his father's lips as he shakes his head in amusement. Unlike his father, Ichirou is all alone. He blames his father for it. It’s hard being the heir to the most feared crime syndicate in America, especially when you’re going it alone. Riko isn’t alone. She has Kevin and Jean and soon she shall have the Wesninski girl too. Ichirou is just a little bit bitter. He spends a lot of time day-dreaming about the day he’ll meet his sister. Never in a thousand years did he imagine it with a gun pressed to her head. As he pulls the trigger, his heart shatters into a thousand pieces. He stares emptily out the window of the car.

He doesn't find out about Cleo until Riko’s funeral. Everyone thinks he’s crying because his sister is dead. No. He’s crying because he’s an uncle and he hadn’t even known. After some investigation, he finds out the circumstances of Cleo’s conception. I’m not going into detail but let’s put it this way: Tetsuji doesn’t survive Ichirou’s wrath. It isn’t a quick death either.

Ichirou loved his sister wholeheartedly but he never got to tell her so. Knowing what he does now, he realizes that she was just as lonely as he was. More than anything, he does not want Cleo to suffer as he and Riko did. His first instinct is for him to take Cleo back. He’ll raise her as every Moriyama woman is raised: a Goddess to be feared and revered. At the funeral he has seen the child sleeping soundly in Wesninski’s arms and now a small part of him stalled. Life as the daughter of Riko and Tetsuji Moriyama will not be easy. If the public ever found out the circumstances under which Cleo was conceived, they’d riot at the very idea of her being raised by her uncle. Ichirou had already denounced his uncle and cut ties with him. He was a blemish on the Moriyama name that now threatened to bring them down entirely with his careless actions. No, Ichirou could not take Cleo back. Not if he wanted to preserve some semblance of his family's dignity. Or so her told himself.

Unlike his father, Ichirou wasn’t quite as coldhearted. Warmth still bloomed in his chest at the laughter of children and smiles still tinged his lips at the sight of the joys of others. Pain still stabbed through him at the sight of men bleeding out on the concrete before him and guilt kept him up at night, tormenting him with thoughts of the families of women left husbandless and children now fatherless. Above all else, he felt nothing but love for his baby niece and he wanted her to love him too. There would come a day when Cleo learned the truth herself. What would she think of Ichirou then? No matter what she might say, there would always be a hint of doubt in her mind insinuating falsehoods about him. Anguish washed over Ichirou at the very thought. He didn’t think he’d survive Cleo harboring so much as a single seed of hate in her heart for him. Staying away from her was for the best.

It’s a lot harder than he thought it would be, though. Cleo now lived at Palmetto State in the care of Abigail Winfield and David Wymack. Riko was Evermore’s unofficial mascot and now Cleo was Palmetto’s. Her face is plastered across every screen in the nation. Many Raven fans are livid with rage. This is the highest betrayal. Riko Moriyama had a child and no one said anything?!?!?! Riots are a thing. Someone tried to kidnap Cleo to take her back to Evermore.

The attempted kidnapping is the final straw. First of all, they’re dismembered parts were sent home to their family in a UPS box. Second of all, Ichirou holds a press conference in which he reveals the truth about Cleo’s birth, explaining why he can’t take her in, and making a thinly veiled threat to the remaining Raven fans about what would happen to the next person who tried to harm her. No one ever bothers Palmetto State again.

Cleo grows up hating Riko. For a long time, she doesn’t know she’s Riko’s daughter. All photos of Riko are banned. The adults only ever talk about her when they think Cleo is asleep. Cleo wakes in the middle of the night for a drink of water and creeps over to the kitchen. She can hear the adults angrily hissing at one another. They’re talking about someone named Riko with as much hate as Cleo’s ever heard. Wymack is always mad but this is something else. Abby seems upset as well, a truly rare sight. She doesn’t know who Riko is but she hates her now.

Cleo only finds out when she goes to school. After intense debate, the Foxes decided to keep her last name as it was. It was already too well known to do anything about it. Some kid comes from an exy obsessed family and mentions that she looks a lot like Riko Moriyama. Cleo gets sent to the principal's office for punching the kid.

Wymack and Abby can no longer hide it. They sit her down at the kitchen table and tell her the truth. Cleo doesn’t take it well. Maybe I’ll talk about the specifics later but there’s quite a bit of work that goes into that and I need to clear the asks that are already in my inbox.

She knows who her father is too but the details are limited because of course they are. She’s like 7 rn.

After all this drama, she learns about her Uncle Ichirou. She goes behind Wymack and Abby’s backs to send him a letter. It’s written in red crayon on a sheet of black construction paper: Evermore’s colors. Ichirou flips his shit. His beloved little niece has just found out the truth about her birth and the first thing she did was write to him.

It’s after this that Ichirou ends up abolishing the branch family entirely. He keeps all three of his kids, one daughter and two sons, by his side. He’s still the head of the yakuza tho so I mean… he still tortures and kills people. His kids grow up the same way. He’s literally only soft for his wife, kids, and Cleo.

Ania has a bunch of galas and charity balls that she has to attend because she ‘donates’ to the Moriyama foundation. Ichirou makes her bring Cleo along so he can see her. Erin doesn’t like the thought of Ichirou being around Cleo so the three of them always arrive together and Erin is never far from Cleo. If she can’t be around, Jeanie, Jeremy, Kevin, or Thea are there. Ichirou is never left with Cleo unsupervised for obvious reasons. He wishes it didn’t have to be that way but he understands their concern and lets it go.

Since Ichirou isn’t really allowed to show physical affection towards her, Cleo gets spoiled rotten by her uncle. Every Christmas, there’s a shit ton of presents on Wymack’s doorsteps. All the labels read To: Cleo From: Santa in Ichirou’s unmistakable handwriting. There’s also just a bunch of presents that show up out of the blue. At least once a month, there’s some very expensive-as ‘thing’ in the mail. I mean, this shit belongs in museums. They’re almost always Japanese bc Ichirou doesn’t want her to forget her heritage. She’s got a lot of kimonos and a few samurai swords and ornate hair clips and umbrellas and shoes. She’s got a lot of scrolls written in Japanese too which is why she asks Kevin to teach her to speak and write it. Some of the scrolls are actually letters to her from Ichirou. These all go in a special box that she keeps on the top shelf of her closet.

Speaking of Kevin, Thea is an absolute miracle worker. It’s a long road to his recovery but Thea is there for him the whole way. Cleo is the biggest hurdle on this road. She looks just like Riko. She’s got the same bright laugh and brilliant smile. She has the same features as her mother, and grandmother by default, and has the same build. Looking at her, all Kevin can see is Riko.

One day he goes to pick her up from daycare. He can only watch as one of Cleo’s friends pushes someone else off the swings and offered the seat to Cleo. Kevin’s heart stopped. Riko would most definitely take the seat, kicking up the mulch in the other child’s face. Instead, Cleo shoves her friend aside and extends a hand to the boy on the ground. She helps him to his feet and wipes away the tears on the little boy’s face. She picks the mulch out of his hair and the splinters from his hand. Kevin is close enough to hear her say to him that a kiss will make it better. She kisses his palm and turns back to her friend. She tells the girl off. Before they know it, the little girl is bawling her eyes out. Cleo hugs her but insists that she needs to apologize to the boy. Satisfied by her friend’s meek apology she offers the kid his seat back. He shakes his head and asks if the girls want a turn. It’s the first time Kevin realizes that Riko and Cleo aren’t the same person. Kevin totally isn’t crying when he calls her over and checks her out of the daycare center.

Growing up at Palmetto, Cleo meets a lot of kids from broken homes. As a result she becomes really compassionate. She also becomes really touchy-feely. When the kids are sad she likes to give them hugs and hold their hands or pet their hair. She also makes? Them? Presents? Like little beaded necklaces and friendships bracelets. She makes an orange and white rubber band bracelet thing for Wymack and now he keeps his keys on it.

As I’ve mentioned, Cleo is ten when Erin and Ania get married and ask her to come and live with them. Wymack and Abby drive her up to the girls’ apartment in New York. Cleo is all nerves when she arrives. She’s grown up calling them Mom and Mama but now she’s going to live with them. Like…. Permanently!!!!!!!!!!

Standing in front of the door, she can’t bring herself to knock. Wymack kneels down in front of her and asks her what’s wrong.

“What if they’ve changed their minds?” Cleo whispered.

“Worst case scenario?” Wymack asked. “You’ll come back with us. I don’t think Abby and I are all that bad.”

“You’re not,” Cleo replied, hastily. Wymack stood back up.

“Look, kid. It’s not going to be easy for them to adjust to having you around but they will. There isn’t a soul on the face of the Earth that loves you more than they do. How could they not? You’re pretty fucking great,” he said. Abby pursed her lips at Wymack’s language but said nothing.

“You ready, Cleo?” she asked. Cleo nodded and Abby’s face brightened with a smile. The door opened just as Cleo mustered up the courage to knock. Arms wrapped around her and picked her up off the ground. Ania’s laughter rang in Cleo’s ears as the crushing weight of the hug knocked the air from her lungs. Kisses were speckled all across her face as Ania stepped out of the apartment and swung Cleo around until they were too dizzy to go on. The world was still spinning as Cleo collapsed beside Ania.

“She’s been here less than a minute and you’re already trying to kill her?” The familiar rough voice caught Cleo’s attention. As her vision settled, she saw Erin leaning against the door frame.

“Mom,” Cleo whispered, in awe as if Erin was an apparition. Erin remained in the doorway, stone-faced and covered in flour.

“Not going to give your mom a hug?” Erin asked finally. Cleo was on her feet in less than a second. She barrelled into Erin’s open arms, nearly knocking her over. Tears gushed from Cleo’s eyes. “The hell are you crying about, Little One?” Erin muttered into Cleo’s hair. Cleo loosed a shaky laugh. She let Erin pick her up and heard the voices of the others as they entered the house.

Cleo loves living with Erin and Ania. Like Wymack said, there’s an adjustment period but it’s not super long or uncomfortable. Erin is really good with kids and Ania really loves Cleo so they make it work.

Sometimes Cleo gets sad, though. Her moms have games that they have to go to often so they’re always flying out to them. Fortunately, Aaron and Katelyn are living up in New York too. It’s about a two hour drive out to Uncle Aaron’s. Cleo loves being with him and her cousins, the twins, Lila and Leena. They’re really nice and Cleo gets along with them really well. They stay up late braiding each others’ hair and whispering secrets and telling stories. Katelyn makes the best mac and cheese on the face of the planet Earth and she always makes it whenever she knows Cleo’s especially down. They all sit on the couch together to watch Cleo’s moms’ games. Cleo catches her uncle hasilty scrubbing tears from his eyes at the sight of his sister’s rare, fierce grin.

Uncle Nicky and Uncle Erik are great. They don’t have kids. Instead they have two corgis named Micheal and Jude that fight all the time. The only time they ever seem to get along is when they’re with Cleo. The two of them like to sit on opposite side of Cleo, sandwiching her in the middle.

Uncle Erik is a pastor at the church and he sings in the choir. He’s almost as good a singer as Erin… almost. He teaches Cleo how to sing. He also really likes to bake. Often, Cleo’s moms go on dates where they wander around Stuttgart together and just enjoy each other’s company. They almost always come home to find Erik and Cleo coated in flour and sugar and chocolate. Cleo uses her newfound baking skills to make things to her mom. Erin is living for it. Ania doesn’t approve of the unhealthy diet but she knows Cleo bakes with love so she limits how much Cleo is allowed to bake and instates portion control.

Cleo is mildly claustrophobic and the worst of it happens on planes. Ania and Erin have a pre-flight ritual that they extend to include Cleo in as well. Every time Erin has to get on a plane and Ania is there to see her off, she has Erin roll back her armbands (she doesn’t wear them anymore but this was back in college) and draws a little heart on the inside of her wrist. Once it dries, Ania will press a kiss to the little heart. Growing up, Ania didn’t like plane either so her mother used to do this for her to quiet her fears. It makes Erin and Cleo feel very loved and protected. I mean, they know it doesn’t actually doing anything but it always makes them feel a lot better.

On Saturday mornings, most kids wake up early to watch cartoons. Cleo wakes up to go snuggle with her moms. She’s around 12/13 when she starts this. Most of her moms’ games are on Fridays and they get back late at night or really early in the morning. Cleo wakes up at 9 a.m. and makes breakfast for the three of them and set the table. Everything is usually ready around 10 so she’ll creep into her moms’ room. Both of them are light sleepers so they’ll hear her come in. They sleep spooning each other but they always make space between the two of them so Cleo can wriggle in between them. Their cats, Sir and King, usually come in too. It soft and warm and all of them are happy.

Cleo is obviously a part of an exy team. She’s the biological daughter of Riko Moriyama and is being raised by Exy stars Erin and Ania Minyard-Josten. What did you expect?

She’s a striker. A much better one than her mother was. Better than Kevin too. The only person that outshines her is Ania but it doesn’t bother Cleo. In fact, it gives her something to aspire towards. She and Ania spend a lot of late nights out at the court with Erin in goal. Family bonding time :’)

Cleo likes getting her nails done. She usually does this with Ania. Ania only ever gets her non-dominant hand done and Cleo doesn’t understand. She only starts to understand once she gets married but I’ll get to that in a minute.

There’s about a 3 year difference between Cleo and Amalia. Okay, look. Kevin’s grad party was wild and he and Thea might have had a little too much to drink. That’s how Amalia is conceived. Thea is mortified. Kevin asks her if she wants an abortion. Both of them are pro-choice, especially after learning everything that went down with the birth of Cleo. Thea believes in the right to choose but she could never have an abortion herself. She gives birth to Amalia and it devastated her. Her entire career is put on hold so she can have her baby. Kevin is stressed. He wants doesn’t want to sacrifice Thea’s happiness for that of their child. The only compromise they can work out is to have their contracts transferred. They join the team based in Columbia, an hour and a half from the Foxhole Court. They wouldn’t dare ask Wymack to raise their child but they do ask for his help. Whenever they travel, Wymack and Abby babysit their granddaughter. The Monsters are at Palmetto for one more year so they help out too. Ania isn’t good with kids other than Cleo but she does her best to help. Jeanie and Jeremy get named the godparents but they don’t get to see Amalia often until Thea and Kevin move out to the West Coast. The Muldani-Days live in Seattle and the Knoxs remain in California. Visiting them is painful for Ania and Erin but they make new memories with them and so it isn’t all bad.

Cleo and Amalia are best friends. Kevin and Thea live on the West Coast, on the other end of the nation, so the girls skype a lot. They binge watch shows together like this and help each other with homework too. They always get to see each other when their parents play each other at games and during holidays. Sometimes Kevin will let Amalia stay over with Erin and Ania or vice versa. All of this takes a serious mental toll on Cleo. She’s head over heels for Amalia. Sleeping literal inches from her is going to drive Cleo insane. Amalia is as much of a clingy sleeper as her father so she will often throw and arm over Cleo while asleep and draw her close. Cleo is certain she’s going to die then and there.

Anyway, Kevin is shook. All his ptsd comes crashing back in a massive wave. He remembers how Riko treated him. What is Cleo does the same to Amalia? It doesn’t take him long to snap out of it. Cleo was raised in a loving home by Wymack, Abby, and the Foxes. All of them are broken but it's part of what made them such good people for her to around. Cleo has learned compassion to a degree that Kevin could only imagine. She is kind-hearted and loving and incredibly genuine. No one was ever going to be good enough for Amalia in Kevin’s eyes but Cleo was definitely as close as he’d hoped to find.

He doesn’t say anything to Amalia. He doesn’t want to hurt Cleo’s chances but he doesn’t want to force his daughter to pick Cleo for his sake either.

Amalia picks Cleo of her own free will. Their wedding is massive. Kevin breaks down crying as he walks her down the aisle to Cleo. Cleo rushes off the altar and helps him to his feet. She and Amalia walk him to the end before depositing him in a seat beside Thea. They’re all giggles and bright smiles as they stand together at the altar.

They honeymoon in the French countryside. They spend most of it in bed together. Amalia is asexual so no that’s not what I meant, you heathens. They just curl up beside one another talking and giggling and kissing bc they’re happy and in love.

Amalia and Cleo become foster parents. They do adopt but it usually older kids, late teens. Due to their age, few of them live with their moms but they all come together for the holidays.

Holidays are hell. Cleo and Amalia have like eight kids and then they’re usually fostering someone. A lot of their kids are married and have their own kids plus their parents and uncles/aunts + grandparents show up. This is the only reason Cleo and Amalia live in a mansion. They need to be able to accommodate all these people.

They grow old together. They have those shared tombstones with their graves side by side. Cleo dies first. Amalia doesn’t cry. She laughs and dances and tells stories about her wife. Cleo’s funeral is a celebration of her life not the mourning of her death, just the way she would have wanted it to be.

Every day up until her own death, Amaila places pink and white carnations on Cleo’s grave. She’ll sit by her grave and read all her favorite books to her. Amalia misses Cleo dearly but she believes that she’ll return to her beloved when the time comes.

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