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#he is my childhood best friend if there a thing that I've felt beside him was safe safe to be myself safe to be around safe to breath
jo-harrington · 2 months
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Standard Operating Procedures 1.05 (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)
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Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: It's a normal Sunday night. You're just going over to have dinner, smoke, and listen to music. It's not a date. What could possibly go wrong?
Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.04
Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual pining, alcohol and drug use (wine, beer, and weed), R has a minor panic attack while high, fluff, lighthearted smut (petting/groping/dry humping), minor angst, misunderstandings and miscommunication, driving probably a little under the influence, slight anachronism (slapping the bag)
Note: Big note for this one if you've read the most recent installations of SMVerse that I've posted...this is NOT in chronological order. SM and Eddie are not together in this one, we are rewinding back before Closing Time. This chapter and the next one are both a little longer and have been lingering in my head for quite a long time. Almost a year. So without further ado, please enjoy SOP 1.05.
You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.
Please do not interact if you are not 18+.
Enjoy!
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Sundays were your favorite days, hands down.
They sort of always had been, even before moving to Hawkins. Now, though, you had an extra special reason why they were your favorite.
Sundays meant that you could be yourself after you clocked out. They meant standing in the mirror and wiping away the layers of glitter eyeshadow and scented nail polish off. They meant shedding the overly sparkly jewelry from work and the trendy clothes from the JCPenney or Madigan's Juniors department that were definitely cut for a teenage body.
No matter how young you still were, you just weren't sixteen anymore.
You could finally breathe a little easier.
No more Dress to Impress, no more preppy popular girl, no more customer service voice.
Sundays meant freedom.
Lately, part of that freedom meant walking out of the store, taking the most freeing breath you could, and walking right up to your crush best friend so you could spend those last few dying hours of the weekend together.
Shooting the breeze, laughing, and getting to know one another. Getting to really see one another.
Tonight, though, there was just this cloud hanging over you as you stood in the store's bathroom after hours and shucked off the plaid vest and fashionably unmatched skirt you'd chosen for the day in favor of a t-shirt and comfy stirrup pants.
Summer was over, school was back in session, and you hadn't gotten to see Eddie as much as you normally did.
Which, in the grander scheme of things, a lot of things changed with the new school year starting: a bunch of your associate's schedules changed, a few of them even left town for college, and business started to slow a little during the week for the first time since the store opened.
Still, you missed him.
It felt weird from practically seeing him every day to only seeing him in passing or on the weekends.
What if he didn't want to be friends anymore?
Well, that was just silly. Some remnant of fear about the fickleness of your friends memories in childhood. Besides, the first shift after school started back up, he immediately came running to your store and talked your ear off about the new kids that he forced to join Hellfire.
"God, they're such losers," he reminisced with a sparkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. "They have so much potential. I can't wait for you to meet them."
Tonight though...
Tonight was like any normal night; you were getting together after the mall closed and picking up pizza.
However, instead of any of your usual haunts or shenanigans in and around Hawkins, Eddie insisted you come over to his place. Totally normal.
"And we can smoke," he added as an afterthought.
"You know I don't smoke Eddie," you reminded him. "My grandpa and his crackly lungs? I've taken him to enough doctor's appointments."
"Doesn't stop you from sucking up the air around me when I'm having a cigarette on break. No. I mean smoke. Reefer. Weed. Jesus, don't act ignorant Miss Goody Two Shoes."
"Excuse me," you choked. "How am I Miss Goody Two Shoes?"
"Because," he began with dramatic emphasis. "For all of your stories about garage beers and parties that your work friends dragged you to, you've never mentioned partaking in any sort of illicit substances. You're being obtuse on purpose or you're afraid."
You were caught like a deer in the headlights.
"I...I'm not."
And you weren't; it wasn't fear. It was just...inexperience.
Back home you were always careful, even when you hung around friends from school or work; with your overprotective father and uptight mother and two brothers who wouldn't hesitate to rat you out if they found out you broke some kind of rule? It would be over.
So you never got too wild at parties. Disheveled clothes could be straightened, and you could pretend that swollen lips were just a side effect of getting a little sick. You never drank more beer than whatever made you feel a little floaty if you weren't sleeping over at a friends. And you never smoked weed.
Ok so it was fear, in a way; residual fear. Just not the way Eddie thought.
"Hey, don't worry," Eddie said in the most understanding way he could. "You just tell me and I'll drop it, if you're afraid."
You wanted to tell him, wanted to explain it, but in a moment of reflection and wanting to assuage his worries, defiance got the better of you and you told him that you weren't afraid and it would all be fine.
You were going to be with him; you never needed to be afraid when you were with him.
Now though, staring at yourself in the mirror as you got ready to go and meet Eddie you realized you might have made a mistake.
Hanging out with your crush friend alone at his place? Fine. Sitting close on the couch as you ate pizza and listened to music? Cool. Drinking and smoking together, knowing that you got a little bit chatty when you loosened up a little bit under the influence? Uhm.
What could possibly go wrong?
---
The spread that you and Eddie had created was impressive.
Pizza and a six pack and red vines and...and...and...
Eddie was usually very thorough when it came to providing snacks or planning outings where you could get a nice little treat together. Tonight it was partially your fault.
You'd originally planned just to drive to his place after work and the pizza would be delivered, but he said that when he'd called to place the order at Lou's--large pepperoni and a box of cannoli--they told him that the delivery driver was out. Takeout only.
But then he also forgot to stop at Bradley's for soda.
So you offered to go to Bradley's while he picked up the pizza, and you might have gone overboard.
Soda and a box of wine and peanut m&m's and...and...and...
"And you say that I'm bad," Eddie scoffed as you walked in, arms laden with shopping bags.
"Excuse me, this is the once in a blue moon you let me pay for anything, I'm gonna take advantage of it."
Wayne was still home getting ready for his shift when you got there and he simply shook his head at your bickering with a fond smile, then pilfered a little of everything for his own dinner before leaving you both to it.
Once he was gone, the festivities began.
You were both overzealous, talking a mile a minute over each other about your days as you set up for the night. Eddie divvied out food--creating a plate that reminded you of the Peanuts' Thanksgiving feast, overflowing with multicolored candies and popcorn and pizza slices--as you took care of the drinks.
You were a little smug that you got to teach Eddie something during these little Sunday night not-dates for once.
"Where did you learn this?" he asked skeptically as you ripped into the cardboard box. "What even is Franzia? Sounds fancy."
"It is the least fancy thing you can get," you grinned maniacally and freed the floppy plastic bag full of pink liquid from its confines. "Honestly I should have thrown it in the fridge but it's fine. You can put it with some coke; it'd probably taste better anyway."
He made a face.
"I'll just have a beer."
"Oh my--Eddie! Live a little." You settled the bag on the coffee table and gestured to it. "You don't have to drink it...chug a beer, I don't care...but you need to slap it."
He huffed and shuffled across the carpet on his knees to settle beside you.
"Is this a Claire's thing?" he asked, he looked up at you through his bangs.
"No it's not a--well...no. It doesn't matter! My old store manager, Jen, made us do it whenever we went to parties and hung out at her place. It's fun."
"Why does this feel like a lie?"
You reached out and smacked your hand against the plastic, listened to the liquid slosh inside. He let out a long suffering sigh but gestured for you to go ahead and he settled on the floor as you squealed with glee.
Eddie popped the little tab on the spout and the cheap wine poured freely into his mouth; he maintained eye contact with you the whole time, even as he choked on the unfamiliar taste of the pink zinfandel.
When you'd hung out with Jen and your coworkers and friends, it was just...a silly thing. Now, though, it was just you and Eddie; you stood over him with the bag gently held in your hands over his mouth and his hand rested on your calf as he drank. It was tense and intimate and as you started feeling a little hot under the collar, you wondered if this was a mistake.
Regardless, when he'd had his fill, he shut the spout and raised his hand and slapped the bag so hard it soared out of your grasp and across the living room.
You both burst out laughing as it swished and sloshed with a pronounced glorp on impact with the floor, and Eddie collapsed against your legs as the giddiness got the better of him.
"Ok, that's better than a keg stand." He looked up at you and wiped a hand over his mouth. "Blagh...probably gonna need that coke if I have any more though. Your turn, sweetheart."
Then the tables were turned, but unlike Eddie, you stood toe to toe with him as he held the bag for you.
To avoid the tense eye contact, you kept yours closed as you pulled mouthful after mouthful from the bag. You almost felt a little smug; you'd always been good at this, despite how awful the wine burps were gonna get after. You knew Eddie's competitive nature--always seeing who could finish a blizzard from DQ first and giving himself a brain freeze in the process--so you were hoping to last a little longer, hit the bag a little harder, and get him to concede.
You counted down in your head and finally when you couldn't take the heartburn the wine caused any longer, you shut the spout and released it, ready for victory.
Of course, opening your eyes provided nothing of the sort.
Eddie stood there, inches away from you; his pupils were blown and he was breathing a little heavily and for a split second you thought to ask if he was ok.
Until he leaned a little closer.
Close enough where you could smell the laundry detergent and the general amalgamation of mall scents coming off of him.
Then you noticed that his eyes were locked onto…your lips?
Was he gonna kiss you?
You already thought…well…and in the van the other week? When he licked frosting off your hand? You'd thought...
Except that was the thing, you always thought, you never acted. Too stuck in your head weighing and judging the options and if you could just do something about it. If you could just lean forward a little, you could stop worrying and have your answer right?
And if it wasn't meant to be and things were weird? If he didn't actually mean to try and kiss you? You worked retail; you could bullshit with the best of them if worse came to worse.
Then you'd just pretend that your heart didn't ache from rejection for the duration of your friendship. You were already familiar with disappointment; this would be no different.
Alright, that's it, you weren't gonna chance it anymore. All the worrying you did back at the store was enough. You were just gonna kiss him. Just lean forward; just go. Just go. One, two...two and a half...
Eddie's eyelids fluttered a little bit, and your heart clenched in hope, until he leaned away and cleared his throat.
The wine bag was tossed onto the coffee table and Eddie gestured to the plates he'd prepared.
"So, pizza?"
---
Music was the next event of the night.
And the weed.
Funny how all of your anxiety over smoking flew out the window when you were anxious about something else.
Because you just couldn't get your feelings out of your head after Eddie walked away from a kiss like that.
Was it even going to be a kiss? Or was it just the awkwardness of your positions in that situation? Were you overthinking the overthinking?
On and on those thoughts spiraled.
Until Eddie said he was going to get his stereo to start your comprehensive education of metal.
"We really don't have all night Eddie," you said and threw a balled up napkin at him as he fiddled with his tapes.
"Ok, maybe not fully comprehensive," he held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing sounds better than vinyl and I have all of that at Rick's. And my mom's records. You wanna talk about classics? We've gotta spend a whole weekend there."
He put a tape into the slot and hit play and the room was immediately filled with guitar riffs and singing and shouting; he turned the volume down immediately.
"I've gotta give you the whole history sweetheart," he explained. "So you've gotta hear me too. This song's not so important...I'll turn it up when we get to the good part."
Of course, Eddie's music history lesson...started with him.
"Picture this," he said, arms waving as he walked over to his school things that had been haphazardly thrown in a corner of the room: a wilted canvas backpack, a black binder, and a dented metal lunchbox. "11-year old me, fresh after my mom's funeral and everyone she knew was coming up to us but I refused to talk. Wayne kept making excuse after excuse. But Rick, bless him, said 'gotta make him cry.'"
And on he went as he spilled the contents of the dented lunchbox on the coffee table and began the fine work of rolling a joint.
"Took me to the record store, let me pick out whatever I wanted. Of course I chose Sad Wings of Destiny because the art was cool. Little did I know that would change the course of my life forever."
You didn’t know what to focus on and that made you spiral a little bit further. The words, the music, his lips and his fingers as he followed steps that he seemed to know but didn't feel the need to elaborate on were all very appealing targets; the music and his story was what was important here though and you made the attempt.
He told his story in a way that only Eddie Munson knew how to—arms flailing, minute details, expressions and voices and everything you loved admired about him. He took a moment to swap cassettes and crank up the volume before he fell onto the couch beside you in a mess of cushions and limbs and hair.
"I would say ladies first," he began as he presented the joint to you. He then stuck it between his lips and continued talking around it. "But I'm nothing if not a gentleman and I need to teach you how to do this. It's a little different than cigarettes."
It was a comprehensive lesson and you'd gotten the hang of it quickly, but the proximity did nothing to help calm your nerves; Eddie's knee touching yours, his face and hands so close to yours as he held the joint to your lips, then one hand your shoulder as he soothed the cough that escaped you after your first hit, and finally the way he inhaled along with you as you took another.
Want burned in your lungs along with the smoke, but it didn't leave you when you finally exhaled.
You were very much looking forward to the light and mellow feeling that Eddie promised once the weed hit your system.
"Until then," he grinned and took another hit himself before dropping the smoldering stick into a nearby ashtray. "We just dive into the mind of the great Ronnie James Dio."
You rested back against the cushions and turned your head to really watch him; it was strange just...observing him. You had never done it like this before, close and quiet at this distance. Your time together was always spent with conversation and laughter, your observations and mental notes about him done in little snapshots as he moved through life like a blur.
Now you got to experience the simplicity of his presence in private and the addictive frequency that he emitted.
It was nice.
You watched the way his lashes brushed against his skin as he melted into the sofa beside you and closed his eyes. The way his plush lips pursed and then stretched as he hummed along to the music. You closed your own eyes for a second as he matched the sharpness of the lyrics with his voice, hushed and then shrill, and then hushed again.
And when you opened them back up to watch him some more, he was watching you and practically vibrating.
Your heart skipped a beat...
"Sweetheart," he reached out and touched your wrist. "You ok?"
Wait...he wasn't vibrating.
You were.
Then you noticed that your heart skipped many beats, then the beats suddenly tripled, and then it all slowed again, pounding harder and faster in your chest than you believed to be possible.
Did your chest hurt? Or were you imagining it?
It felt like the few times you ran the mile back in high school, but you hadn't run.
Had you?
Your legs felt like jelly. Your arms too.
So you must have run...but when?
No wait, you were forgetting something. Your chest, your heart, your lungs. You had to focus on them first, you needed them to live.
You tried to fix it all by taking a great gulp of air in--if you felt like you'd just run the mile, surely catching your breath would fix it--but you found that it didn't fix anything. In fact, you seemed to lose even more control of your body. You floundered, breathing heavily over and over, quicker and quicker to try and get a hold of yourself.
And the panic set in, unlike anything you'd ever experienced before in your life.
Your consciousness became untethered from your body and you sank deep within yourself. Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Only instead of a rabbit hole, the you that existed in your mind fell away from your eyes and deeper into your skull then out the back of it and into the so-soft cushions of the couch.
But this wasn't sinking, this wasn't melting. This was being buried alive.
You remembered Eddie’s taunting before, about being afraid of smoking. Why hadn’t you told him that you didn’t want to do this? Why hadn’t you told him you were afraid? You were a stubborn idiot and now you’d die here, buried amongst pilling fabric and lost change and lint and a few cheerios that were stuck between the cushions.
You would die here on Eddie's couch...
"Eddie!" you practically sobbed and reached out for him, remembering suddenly that he was there with you. Why wasn't he doing anything to keep you from sinking? "Help!"
"It's ok hey!" He grabbed your hands now and pulled you back from the void, hooked the tether back onto you and saved you from the depths. "It's ok, breathe. No, not like that. Slowly, deep breaths with me. In and hold it and out. Whoooooo."
You focused on the whooshing sound of the air that escaped his lips and you tried to make the same sound yourself. Over and over, slowly as he guided you.
"That's it," he smiled. "Good girl."
You slowly grounded yourself through Eddie, escaping whatever horrible clutches had just grasped at you. You began to feel better, lighter; more centered within yourself but…nicer?
Had that awful feeling been the high? Or was this?
Maybe everyone got caught by a demon when they smoked and then if they escaped they felt a nice light flutter and instead of a heavy beating heart that threatened to burst out of their chests, they felt...silly. Happy. Bubbly.
Like you did whenever you were around Eddie.
Only now it was better, and it was all getting better as he spoke to you and smiled and wiped at the few tears that had escaped your eyes.
Breathe in, breathe out. Good girl.
You kept breathing and staring at his lips.
Breathe in.
Lips.
Breathe out.
Eddie's lips.
Good girl.
You thought about earlier...minutes or hours you couldn't tell for sure...about the way Eddie leaned close to you and almost kissed you. All the worry you'd had about not being able to make a move because you were thinking so much you couldn't act. Here you were now, thinking again. When his lips were right there and you could do something about it.
With one last shaky breath, bubbly infatuation flooded your body; you smiled and said one final farewell to your nervous thoughts, and you surged forward. Your hands shook his away and grabbed at his face, as your lips slid clumsily against his.
Your noses bumped and teeth clacked painfully but it didn't quite matter because the sparks that emanated from your joined lips shot through your limbs and made you both feel tingly and pleasant. At least, you assumed they did for Eddie because he let out a sound that was somewhere in between a giggle and a moan.
But he didn't push you away; in fact, his hands clapped over yours and smushed them further into his cheeks.
He wanted you to kiss him. He wanted to kiss you. He...liked you.
It was a euphoric moment of joy and realization, but your need to put your lips on him outweighed that. So you tried again. Gentler this time.
Eddie followed your lead for a little while as you pulled him towards you; one of his hands found your waist as the other arm rounded your shoulders, and he became your anchor to prevent you from being buried by the sofa again. As thanks for his chivalry, you gifted him with soft caresses, quick pecks, and sharp little nips.
Your fingers developed a mind of their own, and seemed to love his cheekbones and getting tangled in his hair, although they couldn't quite decide which they loved more so back and forth they went.
The rest of you, though--mind and body--just basked in the kissing.
You were good at kissing; you liked kissing. And you liked kissing Eddie, more than you ever thought you would. Kissing under the light, buzzy influence of a beer or two was nice, and it might have been the weed or it could have just been Eddie himself, but this was nicer. Floaty and tingly and transcendent.
The music itself had stopped, but Eddie himself continued to provide the soundtrack to the night. Instead of guitars and vocals and pounding drums, it was a symphony of soft hums and sweet sighs.
Eddie, who often pilfered bites and nibbles off your plate and cited that he was a "growing boy," seemed to prove that his hunger was greater than yours the way he bit and nibbled at you too, appetite growing the longer you kissed. The pace you set no longer fed him the way he wanted and he started to feast a little more; that was a side-effect of being high, right? Hunger. Insatiable hunger?
His mouth pulled away from yours and started to explore your jaw, the column of your neck, the junction between your neck and shoulder. You let yourself get lost in the feeling of his attention, of his lips and hands as he gave and took, of the floaty feeling that settled comfortably in your limbs now, all the nerves of the day forgotten.
Before you knew it, your own hunger grew as well. You wanted him closer, needed more of him now that you had him.
You let yourself drift back along the pillows until you were laying comfortably and pulled Eddie along with you; one hand still lingered in his hair as the other fisted the collar of his shirt and got him right where you needed him to be.
Of course, you couldn't just take without giving as well, and as he settled onto you, your hips bucked up into him. You both moaned--savoring the proximity and delicious friction that his jeans and your leggings provided--and then giggled together as he collapsed on top of you, unprepared for the sudden surge of delight.
His breath fanned across your neck and jaw as he laughed breathlessly, and your hands caressed his head and shoulders fondly as you mirrored him.
He strained his neck a little to look you in the eye; his grin accentuated all the lines in his face, and for a second he struggled to form words. His mouth opened and closed silently and then he licked his lips to compose himself. The next thing you knew, his hand was coming up and squeezing one of your breasts with an exaggerated "honk" as he fell back against the other one and pressed his mouth to the swell over your shirt.
Back into the throes of unadulterated giggles you both went as he continued to honk and kiss and suck at exposed skin.
One of the highlights of the whole night was when he blew a raspberry against your neck; the feeling of goosebumps that erupted along your body and the spittle that sprayed across your skin would be a sensation you would remember and cherish forever.
"No fair," you whined and shifted against him again, both to protest the fact that you currently couldn't return the favor of all the attention he was giving you. Nevertheless, you treated him to the attention that you could, and you bucked your hips up again, only to be met with the feeling of him grinding down onto you.
Giggles began to mingle with desperate pants as he began to shift against you and settled into the cradle of your thighs; he grew harder and ground and rutted against the covered softness of you, faster and sharper, and your body eagerly responded, wanting to be as close to him as you could. As close as either of you could honestly fathom at this point, feeling too good like this to consider that there was more pleasure to be had if time went on and clothes came off.
Sunday nights together were truly gleeful and hedonistic, and tonight was no different. However, instead of snacks and arguments accentuated by the sounds of light-hearted talk and laughter, it was your writhing bodies and mingled breaths that took center stage; the two of you never stopped, only paused for your lips to smack wetly against one another, for your nails to rake through his hair and scratch against his scalp, and for him to grasp at your hips to pull you closer and closer as he drove you higher and higher.
"Eddie, I'm--" you broke away from him and keened, and he responded with a husky "uh-huh" and pressed his forehead against yours. Both of your eyes closed as you felt the pleasure building between the two of you, as he moaned and your toes curled...
As keys jingled in the lock of the front door of the trailer.
...and suddenly it was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over the both of you and you froze, all thought of completion forgotten.
Your eyes shot open and you stared into Eddie's panic-filled, pleasure-blown pupils. He shifted sharply and then paused, almost like a glitch, and then he was off you, across to the other side of the couch in the blink of an eye. You watched, dumbstruck, as he panted heavily to control his breathing, and he held his head in shaking hands.
"No, no," he muttered. "Shit. Shit."
You reacted quickly as the door started to squeak open--throwing your legs over the edge of the sofa to sit upright as your hands clumsily fixed your disheveled clothes--and Wayne walked in. You took the extra second as he grumbled at the threshold and fiddled with his keys to look at Eddie, hoping for some kind of...secret conspiratorial smile or...or heated gaze...just something but he refused to look at you.
Suddenly, all of the good feelings that had flooded you since the moment that Eddie had chased your panic away...they vanished. The sweet giggles and shared pleasure were gone; even the love bites you were sure Eddie had left behind stung instead of blissfully buzzed.
And in their place, an acute clarity of what the two of you had just done.
"You wouldn't believe the mess I walked into tonight," Wayne chuckled with disbelief as he finally shut the door.
No kidding Wayne, you thought bitterly.
"Some of the machines were down when I got there and it took a few hours to figure out the problem. Some rusted old part..." On and on he chattered as you spiraled, stuck in your thoughts once again.
You and Eddie, Eddie and you. You and your secret crush...had just...on his couch. You and your best friend, your only friend in town...got high and kissed and canoodled and now he refused to even look at you.
You didn't know if it was the weed again or if it was just you, but you could see stars in the corners of your eyes and you felt lightheaded as the panic settled back in. And it only got worse the longer you sat there and tried to get some kind of sign from Eddie, only to be left with nothing. Such a stark contrast from just moments ago where you were giving and taking and responding to one another so freely.
Giving and taking...was that really what it was? Or did you just...do this to him? Do this to the both of you? Effectively tank your friendship the way you'd worried about since the first time you'd hung out and Eddie had specifically said it wasn't a date?
You abruptly got to your feet and Wayne stopped his chatter and looked at you questioningly.
"I..." you felt your throat closing up with emotion. "I just forgot I have a really important call first thing tomorrow. I...need to go!"
Eddie finally looked at you with wide, shocked eyes.
Were those tears? Oh god...
"I...it was nice to see you Wayne, sorry..." you scrambled to grab your bag from where you'd tossed it by the door and then looked back at both Munsons. Back and forth at Wayne's curious expression...and Eddie's devastated one. "I'm...sorry."
And you bolted out the door, into your car, and back across town to the lonely confines of your apartment, where you would wish for a second chance at Sunday all over again.
Because until tonight, Sundays had always been your favorite days.
Next Part: Leave of Absence
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bosbas · 3 months
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Chapter 11: if my wishes came true, it would've been you
series masterlist previous part || next part
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pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 4.7k words
Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, mutual pining
Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.
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July 21, 1814 - In a rather interesting turn of events, Miss Y/N Beaumont was once more seen promenading on the arm of Anthony Bridgerton. It appeared that the two were quite happily chatting away, an increasingly common sight that comes after almost a month of barely any social appearances for our lady of the season. Was this just another friendly promenade, or could a romance be brewing between the two? Given the closeness of the two families, a union between them would be unsurprising. However, this author was most surprised that it was Anthony who decided to pursue Miss Beaumont rather than her long-time companion, Benedict.
"So you two are properly courting?" asked Hyacinth, shoving the latest Whisteldown column in both of your faces. You were sitting beside Anthony in the Bridgerton sitting room, your book set haphazardly on your lap after Hyacinth had barged in demanding answers.
"Something like that, yes," answered Anthony, grabbing the sheet of paper from her and skimming it over for where it mentioned you.
"What do you mean 'something like that'? You're either courting or you aren't, Anthony," came Hyacinth's exasperated response. You laughed softly at her impatience, understanding her frustration. You, at times, felt the same way. It was an unusual partnership, to be sure, but you were enjoying yourself thus far. You found you could attend social events again, not feeling any pressure to engage in conversation with slimy or uninteresting men.
"It means that I am attending balls again, Hyacinth. It also means that I can continue writing down detailed summaries of these balls and giving them to you the morning after," you said, hoping to distract her from asking any further questions about your courtship with Anthony.
And it seemed to have worked. Her face lit up, knowing you were the only person who currently attended balls that was kind enough, and attentive enough, to keep her informed about the goings on of the ton. She squealed and rushed to hug you, exclaiming "Thank you thank you thank you!!!" into your neck. You hugged her back, amused by her antics.
Suddenly, Hyacinth turned to Anthony, eyes narrowed. "You had better be a good suitor to Y/N. Will you be attending balls with her? And if so, will you be dancing with her? And will you be calling on her? Will you bring her flowers?" she interrogated. Hyacinth considered you to be one of the sweetest from the older bunch of Beaumont-Bridgertons. At least, you never made fun of her and you took her seriously enough that she could have grown-up conversations with you. So Hyacinth wanted to make sure that you were going to be properly courted by her brother. Truthfully, she had hoped you would end up with Benedict. She thought the two of you were in love, based on how he talked about you and how you looked at him, but she supposed she was too young to understand the more complicated aspects of romantic feelings, and perhaps she had misjudged whatever was going on between you and Ben. Nevertheless, she wanted at least one of her brothers to court you the way you deserved, especially after reading about the mostly unpleasant encounters you had with potential suitors thanks to your accounts of your evenings as a debutante.
Anthony patted Hyacinth on her head, laughing at her protectiveness. "Yes, I will be doing whatever Y/N would like me to do. Now run along, I've been attacked in my own home long enough." With a satisfied huff, Hyacinth ran out of the sitting room just as fast as she had come in, snatching Lady Whistledown's column out of Anthony's hand and taking it with her.
You smiled after her, shaking your head fondly. Anthony had let you take the lead on the speed and nature of your courtship, and you were more than grateful for the ability to choose the pace at which the two of you progressed. True to his word, he had not pressed you for an answer to his unusual proposal, and instead let you come to him once you were ready.
And sure enough, a week ago, you had made your way over to the Bridgerton household and asked to speak with Anthony privately. In the quiet of his study, you had accepted his proposal, finally laying to rest your dreams of spending the rest of your life with your best friend. It was a bittersweet moment for you. In a way, you felt relieved that you didn't have to pine after Benedict uselessly anymore, having a solid plan in place now and getting as close to what you wanted out of a marriage as possible, barring the possibility of romantic love. But a louder and more insistent part of you was feeling this loss to the bone. Loss of what you didn't know, since you and Ben had never been romantically involved, nor had you ever expected to marry him. Though you supposed a small part of you always held out some hope that Benedict might feel the same way about you as you did about him. That he also thought about you every night, laying in bed alone and wishing you could be in his arms. That the sketches of you and forehead kisses and endless pages of correspondence and hours spent talking together could mean more than just friendship. But in the end, you knew you had been foolish to think that two decades of friendship could be undone by a half-joking comment asking if he wanted to marry you.
Anthony, for his part, had been delighted, giving you an encouraging smile and a firm squeeze on your shoulder once he heard your final answer. He hadn't expected anything from you, of course, but he was happy that he could provide a solution that would benefit both of you. However, his proposal and your subsequent acceptance created a new challenge. Though you did intend to marry him, this wasn't what was usually considered a 'real' courtship, and you were hesitant to widely announce this fact to the gossip-hungry members of the ton.
"Anthony," you began, taking a seat opposite him. "I think we should discuss how we'll present this to the ton. I don't relish the idea of scandal, and I imagine neither do you."
"Mmm the pesky Lady Whistledown continues her reign of terror," hummed Anthony amusedly, shifting in his seat. "In all honesty, I believe any rumors would more negatively affect you, given the nature of our respective positions in society. I also know this is probably a more delicate situation for you than it is for me, so I'd be happy to go along with whatever you would like," said Anthony, sending you a sympathetic smile at the unspoken mention of Benedict.
Clearing your throat and ignoring the tightness in your chest, you pushed through your hurt. "Well, I think the most obvious question is of who we should tell. About the terms of our partnership, that is," you said, putting your hand on your chin and dreading the headache this whole ordeal would be. "I fear my mother might slit your throat and mine were she to find out that I am purposefully giving up on the possibility of a love match, especially after she told me repeatedly there's no rush," you said, looking up at Anthony with an apology in your eyes.
But he shook his head in response, "That's no bother, it is to be expected. I'm slightly scared my mother would react the same." You let out a snort at the thought of Anthony, at thirty years old, still scared of his mother. He rolled his eyes at you, knowing exactly why you were laughing at him, and continued speaking. "Regardless, I don't think we should tell anyone. We can be vague about our intentions and the specifics of our courtship until I propose publicly."
You nodded, trying to plan out that far ahead and feeling your heart speed up when you thought of Anthony on one knee proposing in front of other people. A real proposal this time. "Perhaps a month will be enough time? For it to be believable that we fell in love. That seems like a reasonable timeline, right?" you asked him, trying to imagine how long it might take you to fall in love with someone. Thinking back on your friendship with Benedict, you could recognize that you had been in love with him for years now, even if you didn't know it at the time. But you didn't have twenty years to fall in love with someone else, so a month with Anthony would have to do.
"Considering we've known each other two decades, I'm sure the ton would believe we were in love if we married tomorrow. It's our families we have to convince," Anthony reminded you. Because we all know you and Benedict are in love, he thought.
You nodded, thinking through all of your family members and their possible reactions to finding out you were marrying Anthony Bridgerton, of all people. If anything, they would probably expect Benedict to be the one to propose, no matter how absurd and impossible the idea was to you now. But this only made it more crucial that your courtship with Anthony was believable.
"I don't think we'll be able to convince Alex after the night we had in your study," you said finally. "Besides, it might be beneficial to have someone else on our side helping convince our families."
Although he seemed unsure, Anthony eventually conceded, letting out a grunt. "I'm inclined to agree. I could tell him later tonight at White's," he suggested. "We were planning on going with Colin and the twins but I'm sure I'll get a moment alone with him. It will probably be best to tell him earlier rather than later if I don't want a black eye," he joked, winking at you.
"Thank you," you answered gratefully. You weren't quite sure how Alexander would react to the news, knowing that you had just had your heart broken by Benedict and were now jumping into a partnership with his older brother, so you were happy Anthony offered to tell him instead of facing him yourself.
"So, how should we start courting?" you asked. "Well, not actually courting, but you know what I mean," you quickly corrected yourself.
Anthony smiled softly at you, understanding your need to specify that this wasn't a real courtship. Unlike you, he wasn't deeply in love with his best friend, so it was much easier for him to start pursuing someone, however real or fake it might be. But he knew that, at some level, you felt like you were betraying Benedict. Or at least betraying the feelings you had for him. At that moment, Anthony truly wished that Benedict would stop being a complete idiot. If not for Ben's own sake then to stop the absolute torment he saw in your eyes every time you thought of a future without your best friend.
"Ah, yes, our incredibly cunning ruse," Anthony responded, trying to keep his tone light. "I think we could probably start with a promenade a few days from now if you are amenable. It might be good to start with something a bit more casual," he said carefully.
"That's a good idea," you agreed. "Perhaps two days from now? It will give Alex enough time to digest the idea and I can mention to my mother that you asked if I wanted to get back into the social scene after such a long hiatus. I'm sure she'll be ecstatic enough to ignore the minor details."
Anthony nodded, already planning his speech to your older brother. "I can also start making off-handed comments around my family to really sell it," he suggested.
"Oh, that's perfect! I think we might just pull it off," you said, smiling at Anthony and feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders.
But Anthony could not relax yet. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, knowing you needed to address the issue of Benedict but also understanding that it was a relatively painful topic at the moment. After shifting in his seat slightly and receiving a quizzical look from you, he finally spoke up. "How would you like to tell Benedict?" he asked delicately.
You winced at the mention of his name. You had no idea, to be honest. How were you going to tell your best friend that you were marrying his brother? Saying it in person and having to see Benedict's reaction in person would be incredibly painful, but saying it in a letter would be worse, you reasoned. Especially since you had avoided any mention of potential suitors in your correspondence thus far, and were planning on continuing to do so. The letters exchanged between you were too precious, too intimate, to be ruined by the mention of one of your suitors. You stared at Anthony, resigned. "It would probably be better coming from me, wouldn't it?"
Anthony gave you a sympathetic smile. "I'm not trying to get out of doing it, I know this will be one of the most difficult parts. But I believe it'll be better if he hears this from you. He would be crushed if he found out you were getting married from anyone other than you."
You sat back in your seat, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what was to come. If Ben reacted negatively to your relationship with Anthony, you might never see him again. You were desperate to make the blow as soft as possible and preserve as much of your friendship with Ben as you could. "I suppose you're right. I want to tell him in person, though," you said, nervously playing with your fingers. You felt thick tears in your eyes at the realization that if Benedict were here right now, he would be the one rubbing your hand with his thumb as he usually did when you were anxious.
Sensing your inner conflict, Anthony jumped to provide you with a solution. "If you want our courtship to last for a month, that aligns almost perfectly with our country house party in Kent. It would make sense for Benedict to come to Aubrey Hall for the party anyway, and you could have some time alone with him to tell him."
You nodded, quickly blinking the tears from your eyes. It was a perfect plan, indeed. Everything fit together perfectly, you realized with a sinking feeling. You were still half-hoping that there would be a reason you couldn't go through with this, or a massive oversight as to why the plan wouldn't work. But it seemed to be foolproof. Even the painful bits were accounted for and Anthony had made them to be as painless as possible.
And so began the biggest deceit of your life. All things considered, it was good fun. You and Anthony had decided to see each other four times per week, attending a minimum of two balls together and promenading once. Although it had only been a week, you found yourself enjoying the change of pace. You could now attend balls without having to interact with any desperate bachelors vying for your hefty dowry. What's more, Anthony had been bringing you a bouquet after every ball, which served to placate your mother above all else.
Even promenading with Anthony was enjoyable, seeing as the two of you understood each other quite well. It was nothing compared to how deeply Benedict understood you, or how engaging discussions were with him, but Anthony was miles ahead of anyone besides Ben. After only a week of courting, you found yourself better able to think about Benedict without dissolving into a puddle of tears, desperately wondering whether or not he was thinking of you while in the countryside. Your letters to him became less painful and more frequent, as you were able to push through your debilitating love for him and just enjoy speaking about art and literature.
As time went on, you were growing more and more confident that you had made the right decision, especially now that Lady Whistledown had written about your courtship, as Hyacinth had so kindly informed you. Whistledown's words were gospel to the people of polite society, so her mention of the two of you helped cement the validity of your budding relationship. Hopefully both your families would follow the rest of the ton and accept that Anthony, and not Benedict, was the one you were spending the majority of your time with now.
Although you had hoped Alex would help you in this endeavor, he had been unyieldingly silent on the matter. The day after Anthony explained your plan to him at White's, he came into your room and informed you that he knew what you and Anthony were doing. You had expected him to show at least some form of emotion, but he had simply said that he would not stand in your way and walked right out without any further discussion. Even now, a week later, he refused to talk about it with you, immediately changing the subject or just outright leaving the room when the matter of you and Anthony came up in conversation. You were disappointed, feeling like you were living a lie in and out of your home, but you supposed it was for the best. You could sacrifice talking to someone who knew the whole story for the assurance that none of your family would find out the truth. Especially not your mother.
---
As you looked out of your window to the beautiful grounds of Aubrey Hall, your mind couldn't help but drift to Benedict's latest letter. His reply had been short, which was to be expected given that you had asked him to return from the countryside to meet your future husband. Writing the letter had been almost physically painful, but you knew it was necessary. You could only hope that the tears on the paper were not too noticeable once they reached Ben.
After nearly a month of faking a courtship with Anthony, you were much more well-adjusted when it came to talking and thinking about Benedict. But a month was nowhere near long enough to quell the now all-encompassing love you had spent years growing. You didn't think you could ever stop loving Benedict, not entirely anyway. He was your Benedict, and he would be forever. You had grown up so intertwined in one another that he was as much a part of you as you were yourself. The love you felt for him was not a feeling, exactly, but more of a part of your identity. And it was all good and fun until you had to give that up to be with someone else. Though Anthony, bless him, was making it as easy for you as he could. He expected nothing more than what you were willing to give, and you couldn't thank him enough. It had been surprisingly easy to fall into a partnership with him, not feeling the undue stress of having to promptly get over Benedict that you had felt with all of your other suitors.
Your thoughts were interrupted as Theo and Bastian knocked on your door, barging in when you opened the door just a fraction. They ignored your exasperated sigh, opting instead to sit on your bed. Seeing Bastian's shoe-clad feet on your white bedding incited an anger in you that only your brothers knew how to elicit. But your murderous intentions were cut short by Theo's question.
"So, will Benedict be joining us?"
Your heart skipped a beat as you gazed from one twin to the other, trying to gauge the intention of their question. Seeing your anxious eyes, Theo rushed to explain. "We only wanted to check because... you know... yeah," he finished lamely.
"Because what?" you demanded, slightly put off by what they were implying. Thus far, your family had abstained from mentioning Benedict when speaking about your courtship with Anthony. Although they had been visibly shocked by the idea at first, they had now grown used to seeing you with Anthony instead of Benedict and it had become somewhat of the norm. Except perhaps for Cass, who was still young and a hopeful romantic. You knew she secretly still wished that Ben would return from the countryside in some kind of grand romantic gesture that would sweep you off your feet. Unfortunately, you simply couldn't afford to think that way for your sanity. Instead, you ignored her sad looks whenever Anthony sent you a particularly large bouquet of roses. So it came as a little bit of a shock that Theo and Bastian were being so forthright about the subject, showing little to no tact in handling what was a very painful situation for you.
You saw your brothers exchange a panicked look, clearly not expecting your bristling tone. "Because we haven't seen him in a while!" blurted out Bastian.
"Yes, exactly," said Theo, nodding aggressively. "It's just been some time since we last saw Benedict and we're wondering whether you knew if he'll be coming. So we can see him and all. Is he doing alright?"
You sniffed, crossing your arms stiffly and uttering a curt reply, "I see. Well, yes. He will be coming. He should be arriving in a few hours. And yes, he's alright. He's been faring quite well but I think he's coming back to town properly now."
Catching the wide-eyed look they exchanged, you rolled your eyes in annoyance. "And yes! He knows I've been courting someone, which I know was your next question. Though he doesn't know it's Anthony so don't you dare tell him. I will tell him myself once he arrives," you warned them.
"Wouldn't dream of it," assured Theo.
"Sorry about that. Let us know if you need anything," added Bastian.
You hummed. "Thank you very much. Now please get your dirty shoes off my bed or I'm afraid I will have to kill you. And we wouldn't want to make Mother sad over the death of two of her sons, would we?
They stood up off suddenly your bed and straightened up, clearly not having expected this to be such a hostile conversation. But they were glad you had at least cracked a joke, even if the comment threatened their untimely death. They laughed nervously and bid their goodbyes, exiting your room quickly.
A deep sigh escaped your lips as you closed the door after them, placing your forehead against the cool wood. You had most likely overreacted, but you would have to apologize another time. The sinking feeling of anxiety in your stomach took precedence over your brothers right now, as much as it was inconvenient for them.
The earlier flutters in your stomach had turned into giant somersaults, and you felt like you were going to be positively sick. You would have to tell Benedict that you were engaged to Anthony soon since you knew it would be unimaginably cruel to let Ben learn about your courtship to his brother as he was proposing to you.
The easiest thing would be to tell him during one of your nature walks. Whenever you were at Aubrey Hall, you and Benedict went on nature walks around the grounds, where you would often point out familiar flower and plant species, and he would remind you to take in the beautiful landscape. These walks could often last for hours, just the two of you wrapped up in each other's presence. And although it was usually Ben who suggested them, you had planned to ask him on a nature walk tomorrow morning to break the news that Anthony was the man you intended to marry. It would give him ample time and space to process the information, and some precious privacy to sort out any unresolved feelings on both sides.
Yet, the meticulously thought-out plan you had come up with did absolutely nothing to soothe your fears for the actual moment that you would tell him. In all honesty, you had no idea how Benedict would react. You weren't even sure how you wanted him to react. You supposed the best-case scenario would be if he calmly listened and said he understood your choice, and perhaps even thought it a good idea since you would be able to remain close to him. But you couldn't help a very tiny part of you that had previously been locked in the depths of your brain from hoping that Benedict wouldn't react calmly. That he would be impossibly angry. Angry with you, and with Anthony, and with himself. So angry that maybe he would realize that he did love you, after all, however unrealistic that might be.
With a determined exhale, you pushed yourself off the door and started getting ready to go downstairs to Anthony's study. The twins' unexpected inquiry had thrown you off balance, but you couldn't afford to let it linger in your thoughts. Anthony had asked you to stop by once you arrived at Aubrey Hall to iron out the details of his proposal. In less than a week, he would officially be your fiancé, and you had to start figuring out how it would actually happen.
---
As Benedict rode through the picturesque countryside toward Aubrey Hall, the weight of the impending conversation with you settled in his chest. The familiar scenes outside the carriage window, once a source of solace, now seemed to blur as his mind whirred with conflicting emotions. The letter you had sent him requesting his presence at Aubrey Hall so he could meet your future husband lay heavily in his pocket. Ben could barely breathe from the weight of the knowledge that you were so close to being out of his grasp forever.
Reading that letter for the first time had evoked a sharp pain in his chest that he couldn't shake even now, almost a week later. Benedict was beyond nervous to meet whoever you might be marrying, unsure if he would be able to successfully hide his overpowering love for you. However, he couldn't seem to forget the faint tear stains slightly smudging your handwriting of the letter in his pocket. A selfish part of him wished that you might be sad to be marrying this mystery man. That you had settled for someone less worthy and Ben could continue to be confident (if you could call what he was feeling right now confidence) in his decision to forgo a marriage with you. But this fleeting hope was immediately replaced with guilt. You deserved more than an unhappy marriage, even if it meant embracing a future that felt like a cruel twist of fate for Benedict's own heart. Despite the agonizing ache he was feeling, he knew would do this again ten times over if it guaranteed your happiness.
Arriving at Aubrey Hall, Ben dismissed the carriage with a nod of thanks to the driver. With his belongings in tow, he decided to stop by Anthony's study first. His older brother had surely already met your suitor and could perhaps offer some insight so Benedict wasn't entirely blindsided when you officially introduced him.
As Ben approached the door, he caught the sound of your voice, a sweet sound that made him smile wider than he had since he left you. He couldn't help but linger for a moment, enchanted by the familiarity of your tone and wishing he hadn't spent so long away from it.
But his attention sharpened as he overheard your conversation with Anthony. "I think it might be best if it's not a massive surprise to our families, especially Hyacinth. So, would you want to announce our engagement before everyone gets here? Sometime in the coming days? And then you can propose to me properly once all the guests arrive?" he heard you speak.
Benedict's world ground to a halt. The words hung in the air, a revelation that left him stunned. He went numb, pure anger coursing through his veins as he burst open the door and barged into his older brother's study. His eyes, aggressively narrowed into slits, fell on his best friend, sitting at his brother's desk as Anthony leaned against it. Time froze as you and Anthony turned towards him, expressions of shock clear on your faces.
"I beg your pardon?" he spoke, tone low and venomous as he breathed heavily. "What the bloody hell did you just say?"
A/N: just wanted to say thank you everyone so much for reading ahhhh I'm so happy to see all of your reactions after every part and I just LOVE YOU okay kisses bye
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orihimeii · 8 months
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are we still friends? ― gojo satoru
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synopsis: maybe confessing to your childhood bestfriend was not bad at all
warning: pining, bestfriends to lovers, fluff, little angst, teasing
a/n: reblogs are greatly appreciated! gojo brainrot is real ...
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"satoru, what are we?"
there was a long pause, your question caught him off guard, that was sudden of you to ask, was that a harmless question?
or was it not?
"friends? why are you staring at me like that?" he replies, of course you knew, you knew he didn't see you the way you see him and you didn't notice that you were staring at him intently too.
"oh nothing, it's just your face looks ugly" you stuck your tongue out at him and he chuckled, "well thank you y/n. haha, very much helpful just right after i just got off work." his words sarcastic as he threw your favorite banana milk to your direction and you barely caught it.
"how’d you remember i liked these?"
"i always remember" he replies and you wanted to kiss him right there, do friends says things like this? your heart was beating too fast, this man was going to be the death of you.
the first year of university, you didn't give much thought about your growing feelings over him but ever since middle school while being stuck together as you saw him go through his up and downs until the both of you were working adults. you have always admired the strongest sorcerer from afar.
you remember the day you met him, you remember being scared when you first saw a curse at the park and a little boy with a beautiful eyes, who could also see what you saw and that sparked a friendship between you two, the Gojo Satoru from the clan of the Big Three's Vengeful Sprits.
"i also remember you coming up to me at the park screaming beca-"
"satoru!!" you shrieked as you hit his arm "stop, i don't want to recall that, i clearly remember." you rolled your eyes at the man caressing the arm you just slapped, showing puppy eyes pouting. he was so cute, you want to really kiss him.
"stop that i might kiss you" mumbling, you didn't realize you said your thoughts out loud and that made your grip harder to the milk carton, too embarrassed to look at him when the words from his mouth weren't the words you weren't expecting.
"oh yeah? do it then"
you look at him face painted with shock and he was smirking, that pretty smirk of him that you want to wipe off, "if i do that, are we still friends?."
“whatever you’d like us to be.” his reply made your heart thump, this man was playing with you and your emotions were too much to keep inside, you always tried your best to stay in your boundary around him.
"stop that, stop playing with my feelings." you tell him and his face was serious now, the playful atmosphere around the both of you dropping instantly.
"do you like me y/n?" he asked.
you looked down, not wanting to answer his question. you didn't want to take the risk but you didn't also want to keep your feelings anymore.
"satoru, i liked you but lately i've realized that-" you finally look up to him, "-i'm starting to love you." putting the now empty milk carton beside.
you were babbling at this point, "i don't know when it started, maybe it was because of your teasing, your sweet words, or-." he didn't know what has gotten to him when both of his hands softly grabbed your face, gently caressing your cheek and there it was.
his soft lips touched yours, and your tears fell, was it tears of joy? or was it the comfort of his touch? you wanted this moment to last forever with him, it always feels timeless whenever you're around him, but his kiss feels like eternity.
satoru pulled away still cupping your cheek, “i was always hoping we could be more than just friends.” he reassured you, kissing your forehead and you close your eyes. "i've always loved you dearly y/n."
"i'm so happy toru, i love you so much" you sniffled and felt both his thumb running over your teary eyes, rubbing the small tears away.
"don't ever tease me like that again" you lightly hit his chest to which he groaned, faking his pain.
"ouch, now you have to take care of this baby." his smirk showing pride as he points to his self.
"oh shut up."
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baldursgat3 · 5 months
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we're slowly finishing things out here boys. companion piece to this one.
we got 4.3k more words of childhood best friend Tav (who I made a wizard because). act 3 edition this time 🎉
~*~*~
There it was: home. The city you had grown up in. How long had it been since you'd seen these streets? How many months had you been venturing across the Sword Coast with a mission to stop some gods? However long it had been, you were here now.
It was a bittersweet reunion, though. After your meeting with Gortash mere moments ago, no one was feeling particularly at ease. Wyll and Karlach in particular were half seething about the tenuous alliance you'd formed with the new archduke. You had no intention of making good on his offer, but safety from the Steel Watch was the only way you were going to get anything done.
Gale led the charge, his targets set on Sorcerous Sundries. He chatted away about the various books and baubles he'd found there over the years as you walked the busy streets.
Glancing back, you noticed your favorite vampire lagging behind the group. He stared up at the buildings and at the bushes that lined the pavement, all with stars in his eyes. They dimmed when he caught you watching him as he glanced away, awkwardly.
You slowed your pace to fall in step with him, leaning in to whisper as you walked. "You never look at me like that."
"Nonsense." He scoffed, waving a hand at you, dismissively. "Have you seen yourself after a battle? Half the time it takes all my focus not to look at you like you're my next meal."
"Half the time I am your next meal." You gently bumped your shoulder against his. "What's up?"
"Nothing, it's just… it's been two hundred years since I've seen these streets in the sunlight. It's all so… colorful." His gaze drifted back to a small pot of lovely blue flowers as you passed by.
It was so genuine, you couldn't help yourself. You reached down to link your fingers with his, giving his hand a soft squeeze. "Do you remember the last time we were here?"
"Oh, darling, of course I don't."
"That's all right, neither do I. Why would I have taken you to the magic trinket shop?" You tossed him a cheeky grin as he rolled his eyes and yanked his hand away.
"I can't fucking stand you, you know that?"
"I know."
"If you two are done flirting back there," Gale's voice stopped you as you both became aware of all the attention now of you. "As our intrepid leader and person with all our gold in their bag, I do believe Tav should be heading this mission."
"You just don't want to talk to Rolan." Shadowheart chided, continuing past Gale and into the magic shop.
He turned on his heel, following after her, his voice dropping to a hissed out whisper. "We don't want the person selling us things to be angry with us and I can't keep my mouth shut, you know that."
Every so often you forgot you were still on a mission. Sometimes, as you perused a bookshelf and your companions squabbled over who should get to use a certain magic item, it all felt so mundane. Like it was any other day out with some friends.
Astarion was stood beside you, flipping through a book absentmindedly as you debated whether the magical benefit of the boots you were holding outweighed the fact that they didn't really match your outfit.
"You bought me a ring here." He broke the comfortable silence between you, without looking up from the book. You glanced over at him, tilting your head and humming a curious note in response.
"I remember." He continued. "When you had first started learning magic. You brought me here and I didn't understand anything you were saying. I remember you being so excited, though."
He'd stopped turning the pages of the book, just staring at it like he was reading the memory off it's pages. "You bought me a ring, a cheap little thing, because you wanted me to feel what it was like, casting spells, and you couldn't get me to figure out how to do it without an item to help."
A wistful smile found it's way to his lips as he glanced up at you. "I'd entirely forgotten. I always kept it, you know. Even though I absolutely did not get what you felt with magic. It was a nice gift, though."
You laughed softly, reaching out to grab his hand again. "Well, I'm glad you liked it." He didn't remember much about the specifics of your past together. You couldn't blame him, he'd been through so much. Every so often though, something would trigger a memory for him.
He smiled at you warmly for a moment before pulling back to put his book away. "Don't get those boots, by the way, they're hideous."
~*~*~
It was a gorgeous night. There was a faint chill to the air that left your cheeks a bit flushed, but nothing unmanageable. It was comfortable and quiet. The stars were beautiful, twinkling like little diamonds in the sky. Perhaps you should've been a bard, with thoughts like that.
The rest of your companions had gone to bed, while you and your ice cold vampire lingered by the fire. He was laying on his side with his knees drawn up close. His head rested in your lap as your fingers brushed lazily through his curls.
Neither of you minded the silence, you just enjoyed the comfort of being next to each other. He was still pretty averse to taking your intimacy too far, not that you minded. He had plenty of reason to be and you felt no need to push it. These moments were more than enough for you. The two of you had centuries of quiet, lovely moments to make up for.
Of course, nothing lasts forever. Eventually he broke the silence, turning his head to glance up at you. "Can I ask you a… strange question?"
Well that could be literally anything. "Sure?"
He turned back to the fire, settling back in. "Do you remember what color my eyes were? I know they're red now, I've been told so many times. I've heard they're gorgeous." He drolled, sarcastically.
That wasn't exactly what you were expecting but it did melt your heart a little. You obviously knew, though you felt it was probably wise to pretend you didn't have that answer already nocked on your bow. "Oh, um…" Nailed it. "They were brown. Like a deep, cool brown." That was probably too much.
He just hummed in response, seemingly unbothered that you would remember the undertones of his eyes after two centuries. "See, I couldn't remember. I've tried to picture it but I always felt it was either brown or an icy blue. I think my mother had blue eyes like that."
"I think so." You could probably count the number of times you'd spoken to his mother since you moved out of her home at 20. You did not know the color of her eyes.
"It doesn't help, I really don't think I even know what I look like anymore. I haven't seen my own face since I became a vampire." You hadn't really thought about that, honestly. He'd mentioned being unable to see his reflection once or twice but you'd never actually grasped what that must be like for him.
"Oh. Get up, get up. Stand up, I have an idea." You gently pushed on his shoulder, getting an irritated whine in return.
"I'm comfortable."
"I know but get up."
He groaned, pushing himself off the ground with a huff as you quickly followed suit. Your eyes sparkled as you quietly muttered an incantation. Astarion tried to raise a question but was silenced as you finished the somatic component of your spell.
All of a sudden, standing in front of him, reflecting his shock, was a mirrored image of himself. Just as perfect and lovely as he was. He just stood there for a moment, staring at himself in the firelight. "Oh… Gods, do I really look that old?"
You couldn't help laughing at him softly as he reached up to touch his face. He stared intently at his copy as it mimicked his movements. "We are almost 250 years old."
"I look older than Halsin!"
"You do not. And I know you think he's gorgeous, don't even act like that's an insult."
"You never let me bitch the way I want."
"I don't let you pretend you're blind, apparently." You were so glad this went well. There had been a vague worry that he might be more upset at seeing himself as a vampire but he mostly just seemed fascinated by his features.
"Well, all I can say is gods no wonder everyone always said they were 'blood red.' Seems a little on the nose though, don't you think?"
"I think they're beautiful."
"Of course you do, you have to or I'll cry." He threw you a grin before turning back to the reflection. "Thank you, for this. I always knew supporting your studies would be useful to me some day."
You rolled your eyes at him, a warm smile lighting up your face. "I am ever at your service, my love."
~*~*~
If you were being honest, you wanted to be a little selfish. Astarion had told you enough stories of his time with Cazador that you could feel the ache to end his pathetic life deep in your bones. You knew Astarion had far more claim to the act than you did, but that didn't stop you from craving it.
It didn't help that there was a part of you that wanted to beg Astarion just to stay at camp. You would take the party and destroy Cazador without him being able to even look at your darling again, let alone hurt him.
But you also knew that wasn't what Astarion wanted or needed. He had to be there, he had to be the one to kill Cazador. Besides, ever since Raphael had told you the nature of the ritual, he'd been obsessed with the idea of stealing that power from him.
You didn't care for that aspect of things. It was a delicate subject and you knew how fragile Astarion was when it came to Cazador. You had to tread lightly every time the subject had come up.
As you stood there in front of the door to the ritual chamber, everything was coming to a head. The uncertainty of the situation gripped your heart, you had no idea what world you would be walking back into once you stepped through those doors.
Over the months you'd been together, you had gotten better at reading Astarion's body language and expressions. He was still difficult to pin down at times and, when he really didn't want to be read, it was like staring at a blank wall.
Now was one of those times. He was stiff as a board, staring at the door ahead of you all. His jaw was locked and his fists clenched so tight at his sides you could see them starting to tremble.
"We'll follow your lead." Your voice was gentle, as you covered one of his fists with both of your hands. "I'm here, I won't let him have you no matter what. We're going to destroy him."
He drew in a shaky breath, his hands stilling in your hold. "Make him suffer." Without another sound he forced the large doors open, drawing the attention of everyone gathered at this Black Mass.
After a moment of stillness that settled in the enormous chamber, Astarion began to move down the stairs. He held his shoulders squared as you followed directly behind, the rest of your party in tow.
"Can it be?" You'd never heard Cazador's voice before. You didn't expect such a slimy, petulant tone but, then again, it was so fitting for such a repulsive man. "Has our prodigal son truly returned to us?"
You watched with building pride as your love held his ground. As he spoke out of turn and insulted the man who had ruined his life. He deserved it, and you did your best to be an imposing figure behind him, though you suspected Halsin was doing a better job of it.
It wasn't until he threw a punch that you realized how dangerous this endeavor truly was. You saw how easily Cazador controlled his body, despite the parasite granting him some level of autonomy. It clearly wasn't enough as you'd hoped.
He was ripped away from you, thrown helplessly into this ritual. A countdown started, you only had a matter of moments before he would complete this ritual. You had to move. So why were your feet locked to the floor?
You stood there, staring in horror at Astarion, locked into this ritual, desperately watching you. Your mind flashed with images of him being destroyed right in front of you. The idea of losing him again, especially now that you were closer than you ever could've dreamed, it paralyzed you.
You felt someone push you forward, you heard Gale's voice. "Move!" He sent a bolt of lightning straight past you, directly into the chest of one of the creatures that fought to defend Cazador.
It was all you needed. Your mind snapped back to the present, a fire burning in your eyes as you and your party waged a bloody battle against the vampire lord. Someone had managed to pull Astarion out of the ritual, buying more time for you all to kill the monsters and bats that defended Cazador from your attacks.
You heard it before you saw it, a choked out sound as Astarion ran a blade through that vile man's chest. You watched him discorporate as he was pulled back to his coffin to regenerate.
Now that he was gone, you made quick work of the remaining threats, until the room was nearly silent. You could hear Astarion's footsteps splashing through all the blood that was spilled as he sprinted towards the coffin.
No one was doing well. It was a vicious, bloody battle that you narrowly managed to win. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Shadowheart pouring healing magic into a half dead Karlach. Gale had immediately collapsed against the nearest wall, clutching at a wound in his side. Halsin was the only one doing even remotely well and that was only because he could turn into a bear over and over. You knew this fight had wiped him of all his wild shapes, though, and he still was battered and bruised.
Astarion wasn't faring any better, but he didn't seem to care. He shoved the lid of the sarcophagus open, ripping Cazador out and throwing him to the ground. You saw a fury, a bloodlust in his eyes that you'd never seen before. It was terrifying really. He clutched the ritual dagger in his hand as he stalked towards the now pitiful looking vampire.
You didn't know what to do, honestly. You didn't know what Astarion was going to do. You watched as he threatened the man before him, as he taunted him with the idea of taking his place in the ritual.
It didn't feel great, but you felt a spark of hope in your chest when Cazador explained that the ritual would just destroy him if he tried to replace him. Maybe this would convince him he couldn't ascend.
That hope was dashed as he turned to you. "I need your help. I can use the parasite to look through your eyes, copy my scars onto him. I'll complete the ritual, then I can protect you." His eyes looked so gentle and hopeful. It was so sweet compared to what he was asking of you.
"Astarion…"
"Please. I know you think it's a bad idea but I need you to trust me. I'll be free. Powerful. Strong enough to protect you. To protect myself." He looked so desperate. "If I do this I won't ever, ever have to leave your side again. No one would be able to separate us again."
It was so rare that one could recognize a life-changing moment from within it, let alone have time to prepare. And here you were in that exact position, no more prepared than the moment you first learned what was to come. You had to respond to him and you still didn't know what you were going to do. "I… can't…"
You could see the heartbreak in his eyes as he stepped closer to you, still keeping his blade pointed towards Cazador. "My love… this is the only chance we'll ever get at this. Help me with this, we can be free forever. Together."
"Astarion, this isn't you."
"No." He hissed, his eyes darkening. "This isn't what you want me to be. You still want me to be the old Astarion. The best friend Astarion. Awkward little pathetic weakling Astarion. That Astarion is gone don't you fucking get that, after all this?"
He was so angry, you were so scared.
"I don't want old Astarion. He's not you, I know that. I'm sorry if I ever make you feel like that's who you have to be." You stepped a bit closer, reaching a hand out, tentatively. "I buried him 200 years ago, he's gone.
"But there's a new Astarion. Right in front of you. Whatever happens now, you're not going to walk out of here the same. I- I'm going to leave this room, hand in hand with a brand new Astarion. You have to choose right now who he's going to be." Your eyes filled with tears as you spoke. You'd made your decision. It didn't matter that you could feel the others hanging on your words with varying levels of disapproval.
Your voice was so soft, nearly getting lost in the vast, open chamber. "I love you, Star. I trust you. Whatever you need, I just want you to be someone you're proud of."
You watched his face flood with emotions that you couldn't begin to keep up with. Truly, you couldn't imagine what he must be feeling but you imagined it felt a lot like drowning. The hand that held the dagger trembled. His eyes flicked between it, you, and the cowering worm at his feet.
He was so obviously torn, split between a decision that would change him forever. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, you hoped against hope he would make the right choice.
For a moment, as his face hardened, you feared he was about to choose this ascension. To destroy seven thousand souls and marr his own beyond repair. Then he turned, gripping Cazador by the hair as he rammed the blade into his chest.
Over and over and over, you watched as Astarion eviscerated his tormentor, coating his hands in Cazador's vile blood. Your heart broke, hearing the way he screamed. Two centuries of anguish ripping it's way out of his lungs and it wasn't enough.
He stopped gutting the man long after he had stilled underneath him, finally sitting back on his heels. The air was still and heavy, broken only by an agonized sob that struck you straight to the core.
In an instant, you were at his side, kneeling into the pool of blood that surrounded him. You weren't sure what to do, exactly. If you should try to comfort him or just let him get it out. You reached a hand out, ever so tenderly touching his shoulder, just enough to let him know you were there.
He didn't even look at you, he just collapsed into you. He clung desperately to your shirt as sobs wracked his body. Every emotion that had his heart clutched in their grasp bubbling to the surface and spilling over. It broke your heart to hear him cry like this, even if you knew the core of it was finally, finally relief.
After a minute or so of weeping into your arms, he pushed himself back. He swiped at the tears that stained his face, only succeeding in smearing blood everywhere. "Gods… you've got to stop letting me do that."
"I won't." You reached out to try to clean some of the blood from his face. You all needed a good bath.
~*~*~
The camp was quieter than normal. The battle has taken its toll on all of you. Everyone was dead asleep as far as you could tell. Save for you and your darling.
You were curled up together in your tent, he was practically laying on top of you, with a leg tossed over yours and an arm wrapped tight around you. His head rested comfortably against your chest as you ran your fingers lazily through his hair.
It was so soft and wonderful. You had been so afraid of what today would bring but you couldn't have wished for a better ending. Your mind wouldn't still, though. Replaying the battle, the choices you made, the choices he made.
"Your heart is racing, love." Astarion's voice shocked you out of your thoughts, pulling you into the quiet present.
"Mm… I just keep thinking about today." You kept your voice so soft, as though you could shatter the moment if you spoke too loud. "Do you think freeing all of the spawn was the right choice?"
"I do." That was shocking, actually. He sounded so confident, especially after being the one to initially raise the valid concern of how dangerous they could be.
"You're the one who made it." He continued. "Do I sometimes think you're too liberal with who you help and why? Sure. But… you've kept all of us safe. And we have so many allies that I would've never made on my own. Because you're so painfully nice. I trust your choices."
That was so much more reassuring than you'd expected. You didn't really know what to say. "Well… thank you." You absentmindedly twirled one of his curls between your fingers.
"That's not really what you want to talk about, is it?"
Of course you wanted to talk about the decision he made. You weren't exactly sure what you wanted to say and you hadn't planned on bringing it up but it was nearly all you could think about. "Only if you want to talk about it."
"I think we ought to." He didn't sound thrilled about the idea but it was kind of a big deal.
You hummed softly in response as the quiet night settled between you again. Neither of you were exactly sure what could even be said.
"Thank you." He whispered, finally, after a few moments of silence. "For… believing… in me. I don't deserve you."
"You deserve the world, Star."
"Maybe. I don't need it though." He sighed softly, his fingers tightening their hold on your shirt. "I was angry with you, at first, you know? I wanted you to say yes. I wanted you to support me with your whole heart. I needed that power so badly, and you wouldn't tell me that was okay. I was furious.
"But, and you do have to bear with me because it's horribly cheesy, but I walked outside with you. I was free, we were together and I just- ugh.” He sighed. “I really did realize that I didn’t need it.”
You dropped a kiss to the top of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled back. “That was cheesy, you’re right.” You couldn’t help laughing as he let go of your shirt just long enough to flash quite the rude hand gesture in your direction.
“I mean it, you bastard.” The irritation in his voice was laced with so much fondness your heart ached. “Just because I’m mysterious and unknowable doesn’t mean I’m not capable of genuine moments.”
“You wish you were unknowable.”
“You’re making it so difficult to love you right now, you know that?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You laughed softly. “I’m done, I promise. I really am so- so proud of you, you know?” Your other hand came up to cover his, gently running your thumb over his knuckles as you spoke. “I would’ve followed you no matter what but… I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped you’d choose this.”
He smiled softly, closing his eyes and just listening to your heart beating in your chest. Every nightmare he’d ever lived through, every night spent in agony, spent wishing for death - it was all over now. He was free, he was here with you, safe and warm and loved. He wouldn’t say it was worth it, there were so many horrors he knew he would never forget. But he was suddenly, perhaps for the first time, so endlessly grateful he had survived it.
Nothing would change the things he had done, nothing would change what had been done to him. He had been irreparably damaged by so much of it but it was finally, finally over. He could start to mend now. And he had you. You didn’t care that he wasn’t the same person you had loved as a child, you loved him now just as he was, broken and all.
“You made me want to be someone worthy of everything you’ve given me. It wasn’t much of a choice, really. I wanted it so badly because I was so… scared.” He gave a soft, breathy laugh. “You made me brave enough to do the right thing, I suppose. You’ve really made a hopeless romantic out of me.”
“Good. I like when you get sappy.” You grinned, giving his hand a squeeze. “Still. Thank you for choosing this.”
“My darling, I simply chose you.”
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bluerose5 · 19 days
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I am just having so many thoughts about this because idk, I've seen people say before that Gale and Anders wouldn't get along, and while I agree that Anders wouldn't be all for Gale's ambition and leniency towards forbidden magic, I think it's a little telling because I've been playing Anders as in-character as I can (from my perspective) and his approval with Gale without really exploring anything besides the Grove yet? High. The only companion at that point as of yet, even with Wyll in the party too. I know people sometimes joke that it's easy to gain approval with Gale, but here's the thing. It's easy when you're making a lot of the good-aligned choices at the beginning, and Anders?
Anders, at his core, is a good character.
Take a step back from his "defining" moment at the Chantry explosion because it truly doesn't define him as a whole. One major act of desperation (one that was only done in the name of revolution anyways) doesn't erase years of service in terms of his character.
Of course, all of this has been said and done before, but Anders was a healer for years without expectation of any payment. In Lirene's words, he helped deliver people's children, tended their wounds. His influence was so widely felt in Kirkwall that he had Ferelden refugees ready to throw hands for him, all because Hawke started sniffing around for him. He worked in the Mage Underground. He tried peacefully appealing to those in positions of authority for years about mages' rights, putting so much effort into a manifesto that other characters were always quick to dismiss, before taking a violent approach. He became a vessel for Justice, in short, because he was his friend and thought that they could make real change together.
So then, why wouldn't he help those in need in Faerûn? Why wouldn't he save a kid from some harpies? Why wouldn't he help a traumatized bard heal a little through her music? Even though we know he is atrocious at playing the lute. Why wouldn't he step between an arrow and a defenseless prisoner, warning how vengeance could consume a person? A fact that he knows all too well. Why wouldn't he save a girl, even one who stole, from a viper's fangs? Because that is not just punishment. Why wouldn't he help Gale, who chose to confide in him (no matter how vaguely at the moment) about his condition?
Not to say that Anders doesn't have his biases, some prejudices and flaws that would surely carry over, but at his core? He is as good as he knows how to be.
And while I do think he and Gale would have that typical rivalry that Gale has with almost every spellcaster class, if given the chance, every time Gale would stop and tell stories of his past...
I didn't take the smartass options, tempting as that may be, since Anders can also be a humorous character. No, instead, I chose the options where Anders would genuinely listen.
Because Gale lives in a realm where Anders' impossible is possible, a place where mage oppression doesn't exist. Because Gale lived a life, had a childhood, that Anders could have only dreamed of having.
And why do I ship it, personally? In a way different from Hawke/Anders, mind you.
Well, Anders said it best himself.
"Ten years. A hundred years from now. Someone like me will love someone like you, and there will be no templars to tear them apart."
Only, with Gale, that time is now, and that hope —that dream— is a reality.
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lostinhisworld · 7 months
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secret hideaway- JJ MAYBANK
warnings: nothing really. brief mentions of illness, divorce, heartbreak and rumours. written while very tired. jj being wrongly accused. she/her pronouns. based on a tiktok i saw of the left and right images. might make a part 2 if it’s wanted. unedited.
word count: 634
hope you enjoy x
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Air twisted and turned, tugging at JJ's hair in all directions as he gazed ahead, fixated on the waves crashing against sharp rocks. Finally, he allowed himself to breathe.
It had been at least ten minutes now, stretching longer than usual as he sat on the broken side of the hill, hiding from the trouble he'd unwittingly caused.
Unlike his typical antics, today was a mistake, an accidental incident born from bad luck and unfortunate timing. JJ Maybank, notorious for finding himself in situations where he emerged as the 'villain,' now found fingers pointed at him when he was discovered near a recently vandalized store.
He knew it wasn't fair; he was entirely innocent this time. Yet, he understood the odds stacked against him. Hence, when the store's owner nodded in his direction, prompting the officers to look his way, JJ sprinted off, finding refuge in the concealed cave he now occupied.
His secret hideaway wasn't common knowledge among the Outer Banks residents, sparing him the anxiety of discovery. Only a few adventurous souls had stumbled upon it, marking their find on the left wall with over twenty initials carved or drawn.
JJ himself had stumbled upon the spot a few years ago, despite spending his entire life on the island. It was as accidental as most things in his life—discovered after one too many beers at a boneyard party and a case of drunken wandering.
He'd been returning whenever he needed solitude since, never revealing its location to another soul, not even his best friend.
So, when he felt a rock shift, his immediate thought was that he was about to plunge into the ocean's turbulent waters.
Y/n Y/l/n was a newcomer to town, the latest resident of the Cut. She had moved to her mother's childhood home upon hearing of her grandmother's illness.
It was challenging to let go of the life she'd built for herself in Charlestown, but she knew it was the right choice for both her mother and grandmother.
The initial weeks had been tough, witnessing the transformation of the older lady into a mere shell of her former self. To make matters worse, news of her arrival had spread quickly, with malicious rumors swirling around her.
It was a Wednesday afternoon when she found her only refuge in this new town, following a particularly tough day at school. She had been returning there whenever she needed a break from the sadness at home and the cruelty at school.
She had never encountered another soul there before, believing it to be her private sanctuary tucked away on the side of a large hill. However, at the sight of golden hair peeking from behind a boulder, her dreams were dashed, sinking into the ocean beside her now frozen body. "Oh, no," she whispered, taking a step back in the hope that the stranger hadn't noticed her intrusion.
"Hey to you, too," the boy chimed in, amusement in his voice as she cringed.
"I didn't expect anyone else to be here—there never is. I usually come here to be alone, but obviously, I can't do that now," she babbled, uncertain about what to say to the smiling stranger. "Oh, my God. You probably came here to be alone, too, and now I've interrupted. I'll just go."
JJ sat up straighter, his face momentarily falling. "Or you could stay? We could be alone, together," he said, his words slipping out without him realizing it.
"Alone, together?" she repeated, confusion etched on her face. She thought for a moment, considering whether sitting in a secluded space with an unknown person was wise. Still, with the memory of what she was trying to escape, she decided to take the risk. "Sure, if you're okay with it."
"Of course," he replied, a bit hastily, then cleared his throat and tried a different approach. "I mean, yeah, whatever."
Y/n chuckled as she continued her descent down the hillside, using the cave's walls for balance. She hadn't yet mastered the perfect way to enter the secret spot, often tumbling rather than walking.
"I'm Y/n, by the way," she offered, her eyes fixed on the ground to prevent falling.
"Yeah, I know," JJ responded, watching her gaze snap to his. "You're new in town, and word travels fast."
Her eyes returned to the ground as she took a seat on one of the rocks, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Yeah, right. I guess you've heard all the stories, then?"
"I've heard a few," he answered easily, not sensing her sudden tension. "But I'm not big on gossip. I know how nasty rumors can be."
She looked over at him, searching for any signs of dishonesty but found only sincerity. "Well, I promise you I'm not on the run from the law, avoiding a baby-daddy, or escaping from a mental institution," she joked, a trace of sadness creeping through.
JJ furrowed his eyebrows. "Is that really what they're saying?" he wondered, receiving a shrug in response. "All I heard was that you got into a fight at your old school, and no one on the mainland wanted to take a chance with a flight risk. It's not much better, but damn, I didn't know they could be that creative."
She laughed, relaxing a bit. "Believe me, I was surprised too. One girl told me I got knocked up by my old principal."
"Wait, she said that to your face?"
"Yeah, she randomly sat next to me and told me without even looking at who she was talking to," Y/n said, rolling her eyes. "She totally freaked out when she realized."
The boy laughed genuinely, something he hadn't done in a while, as he looked into the girl's shy eyes. "I'm JJ," he said softly, his lips curving up as he extended his hand between them.
"Well, it's very nice to meet you, JJ," she returned the gesture, her gentle hand wrapping around his rough skin. "Good to know not everyone thinks I'm some scandal."
"Hey, I never said that," he joked, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he held her hand. "Come with me."
"What?" Y/n sputtered as he pulled her to her feet, leading her out of their private hideaway. She didn't argue, prompted by the encouraging smile on his face and the subtle tug on her arm to keep up. She followed a few steps behind, her fingers interlocked with his.
She had known him for barely five minutes and was already chasing after him like a lost puppy. It wasn't a huge surprise to her, though.
She had always been a romantic at heart, a sucker for a good rom-com where the girl mysteriously meets her soulmate on a random afternoon.
When she was younger, lying in her pastel room, she had dreamt of the day her knight in shining armor would appear, saving her from the dragon and living happily ever after.
Regrettably, life hadn't unfolded as she had hoped. Heartbreak had found her the moment she tasted the sweetness of love. She had witnessed her parents' separation due to clashing opinions, seen her partner's joy slowly ebb away as days grew longer, and witnessed countless people walk away from her and her heart. Despite it all, it had never deterred her belief in "the one."
Y/n wholeheartedly believed that there was someone, somewhere, uniquely crafted for her, a person who would love her perfectly — she was simply waiting to cross paths with that special someone.
On the contrary, JJ was not a firm believer in love. His past experiences had soured his perception, leaving him disenchanted. He acknowledged that love existed in the world but believed it wasn't meant for him, at least not in a romantic sense.
As a result, he sought solace in meaningless hookups and unattached relationships, giving him control over his emotions and desires.
However, something had stirred within him as he watched her smile and heard her laughter. It was a sensation he had never experienced before.
And he was determined to decipher the meaning of that newfound feeling.
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silversainz · 1 year
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Hello! How are you? Can i request something super angsty for mick schumacher? Maybe the reader is in love with him and they are childhood best friends? That's just a tiny idea, you can write whatever you want, i just want something super sad and heart wrenching. 😭
let me down slowly
Mick Schumacher x reader
Summary: being in love with a man who you can't have is the most difficulties and heartbreaking thing. until one night you decide to take the risk and well tears and pain get shed
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warnings: angst lots of it, drinking, explicit language, Mick being rude to reader about feelings, some errors. small reading front. I deeply apologise for the mess that is this fic again, i wasn't feeling well today so I rushed this ♀️
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"y'know if I were you and in your position. I would go over there and slap her" you chuckled at Daniel's joke and slapped his arm while shaking your head "Jesus Daniel and I thought I was bad" he laughed at you and handed you another drink. you happily took the drink and continued to stare at the happy couple, your chest getting heavier and heavier with jealously, saddens and anger as you painfully looked at them. "You should have told him how you felt before they got together" Daniel was right about that, maybe if you didn't coward out and actually told Mick how you felt for him that night, then maybe it would had been you sitting beside him and spending his birthday together.
you looked down and felt Daniel rub your shoulder in comfort, he was the only one who truly knew how you felt for Mick and truth be told, he was the only one who knew how Mick felt about you, but instead of mick taking his advice Mick went on to forget you and get himself a girlfriend. while you on the another hand suffered your consequences of not telling him how you felt on the night of his little party where he brought you out on the beach and made you sit down beside him and watch the sunset with him.
"you're right. But look at him at least he's happy with somebody who could give him everything he needs, and plus she's fucking gorgeous"you gigged at your own words, but it was more of a laugh through the pain. you looked at them again and looked away to face the bar, tears wellied up in your eyes. Daniel didn't say anything instead sat his drink down and pulled you into his side, hugging you tightly and gave you a friendly kiss to the temple. "Shh it's okay" he comforted you. your cheeks went red feeling embarrassed that you probably ruined his night by crying over a man who was in a relationship
"y'know if I were you, I would go over there, pull him to the side and tell him how I feel" you looked at Daniel before laughing, Daniel soon joining in as soon. "Jesus Daniel, you're acting reckless tonight" you shook your head at him and ordered another drink, wiping away your tears. he put his hands up in defense and looked offended at your words "damn so you mean I've never been reckless" you gigged at his joke and soon felt a hand on your shoulder, a hand you were all so familiar with.
"what are you two talking about" you looked up at him and gave him a light smile clearing your throat "just some work related things" Mick looked between you two and shrugged his shoulders bushing off your suspicious behavior. "well Hannah really wants to meet you, so" he offered you his hand but you didn't take it and instead pushed it away, he tilted his head confused "sorry I've had a lot to drink tonight. don't wanna make a fool of myself to her" you told him and looked away from him chugging down another shot. you felt Daniel tap your leg and give you a look, before getting up from his seat and excusing himself.
Mick looked at Daniel and took a seat next to you in his seat "you okay tonight?" you looked at him "yeah why" your answer was short and simple, not wanting him to stay beside you long, afraid your stupid drunk mouth would say something you would regret in the morning
"I don't know you've been ignoring me all night, and instead of celebrating my birthday with me, you've been at the bar chugging shots down your throa all night" he said. You gave him a offended look "damn sorry?, Wasn't in the mood to celebrate with you" you chuckled before lifting your shot glass but Mick grabbed the glass out of your hands and placed it down on the counter.
"I think you've had enough for tonight" he told you but you only shook your head at him before reaching over and grabbing the glass, chugging it down your throat before he could stop you. Mick rolled his eyes and got up from his seat offering you his hand "come on, I'm going find Daniel and have him take you home" you laughed at him "I'm fine here Mick. go enjoy your party" you told him and faced away from him not wanting to meet his eyes. Still he didn't move and instead forcefully grabbed onto your hand pulling you out of your seat. "Mick what the fuc-" "I'm taking you out to get some air, because you need it" he said and dragged your body towards the door and then outside
as you both stood outside, Mick put his hands in his pockets and stood in front of you concerned and worry filling his eyes "you sure you're okay" you sighed and backed away from him. "I told you I'm fine" you told him but he still didn't buy it "are you sure you're okay" he repeated his question and now you looked at him annoyed. "Jesus Mick. yes I'm okay, what's your problem" now you felt angry with him, the many shots you took consuming your body.
"what's my problem?" He laughed at you " my problem is that, tonight out of all nights, you decide to drink and drink, completely ignoring the fact that I specifically invited you here to celebrate my birthday with me, not for you to drink yourself to death." he placed his hands on his hips, looking not only pissed off but disappointed with you. "now what's your problem" he asked again, you felt sick to your stomach, and before you knew it, you were blurring out the words that you would later on deeply regret.
"I like you" complete silence he only stood there just looking at you. "That's why I've been avoiding you all night" you spoke quietly, while crossing your arms and looking down at the floor. still he didn't say anything, you felt your throat get tight tears so close to falling. he exhaled and walked up to you while placing his hand on your shoulder "you know I'm in a relationship right" he asked you like if it wasn't an obvious question. you looked up at him dumbfounded "of course I know, Mick that's literally the reason why i haven't talked to you all night because it hurts me to see you with her" he backed away from you and shook his head while laughing.
"Jesus y/n, you serious. did you plan this or something, because this isn't right" you looked down embarrassed, still he wasn't finished. "y/n why didn't you tell me how you felt before" "I was afraid" he throw his head back and laughed "afraid, afraid of what. y/n, this is ridiculously I mean come on" tears buried your vision at his harsh tone. "y'know what, you've clearly had way too much to drink. because for you to say all this on my special night is so completely fucked up" you wiped your tears off, your heart breaking at every word he told you.
"I honestly can't believe you"
"fuck Mick okay I understand. you don't like me and Don't probably want anything to do after tonight. okay cool whatever. let's just forget this conversation over happened" you went to walk back into the club only for Mick to grab your hand, making you face him "you're right, let's forget this conversation happened and let's not see each for awhile after tonight okay" he said and turned to walk away from you
But before he could walk into the club you said one more thing to him "I'm sorry for telling you and ruining your night Mick" he chuckled at you, "yeah you really should be." and with that he walked inside leaving you alone on the sidewalk, with tears falling from your face and regret filling up your body.
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set-wingedwarrior · 1 year
Text
The Right time
So. It's been a hot minute, huh?
I'll spare you the long list of reasons why I haven't written for a while, and I can't even promise a full comeback because of my studies and stuff. I've written this very randomly, it's short, and I'm rusty, but I'm still happy I've been able to write something. I hope you'll like it :)
Shout out to @phoenix-fell for proofreading this very last minute, thanks bud!
AO3
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Saying that they were shocked was an euphemism. Finding out that one of your friends is now decades older than you and turned into one of the main characters of your favorite childhood book isn’t a commonplace event. It makes you wonder how it must have felt for Jaune to realize that the guy he read about as a kid was actually his future self.
He surely knew how hard it was to process, which is why he left Team RWBY alone for some time, giving their minds the time to ease into that new reality before going straight back to business. In the meantime he’d use that spared hour to help the people of the Ever After that got hurt by the earlier attack, which is hardly a bad idea.
Ruby is visibly shaken, another hit on her sense of duty, feeling once again the failure to save a friend. Weiss is right beside her as the two take comfort in each other’s presence, and Yang feels particularly grateful that Weiss is still fighting to keep her promise to be the best partner she can be. It means that, at least for a little moment, Yang can take time for herself, and address the inner struggles regarding her own partner..
“Are you okay?” Blake, always the observant one, doesn’t miss the betraying flick of worry in Yang’s eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Yang’s quick to answer “It’s just- I think I need to talk to you.” She says, before she can change her mind. She’s aware that it’s not the right time, probably the worst actually, but when was there ever a right one?
“Oh! I- I mean- sure.” Blake’s nervousness is obvious, which is why Yang doesn’t hesitate to take her hand in hers and give it a reassuring squeeze. It works, and Blake lets herself be led outside. “So, what do you need to talk about? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes- no- I mean-“ looking down, Yang can see the Rusted Knight, Jaune, moving around with Juniper to help people. She takes a deep breath; she can do this. She has to. “Listen. I know that this, whatever this is going on between us, is still new. And I wanted to wait for the right moment before bringing it up but… then I saw him.” she nodded towards Jaune “Did he even try to get home? How long has he been waiting for us to find him? Or for him to find us?” Yang knows she’s pretty much rambling right now, but Blake’s focused gaze and pointed ears tell her that she still has her undivided attention. “And now I keep wondering: what if that was me? Or you?”
“Yang, we don’t know how things work here, and this is all just a conjecture. But I know that if that was me, I would have waited for you. No matter if I had the chance to escape, I’d never leave you behind.”
“This is not what I meant. I…” now it’s Blakes turn to give her a comforting squeeze.
“What do you mean then? It’s okay, go on.”
“It just… it made me realize: there’s no right time. There’s just here and now. And I don’t wanna force anything on you, you don’t have to answer me in any way. But I can’t risk spending my whole life waiting; I just need to tell you. Blake, I lo-“
Yang doesn’t get the chance to finish, interrupted by a pair of lips pressing on her own. Her first instinct is to freeze, - this is her first kiss, their first kiss! – but she gets one second to reciprocate before Blake pulls back.
“Are you really telling me about waiting and what ifs?” Blake starts, her voice breaking “Yang, I watched you die.” She grips on Yang’s jacket, not holding her but keeping her close “I saw you fall and disappear into a void that I was sure was certain death, and everything just stopped. Atlas, the relics, the evacuation, all gone; all I could think about was that I needed to reach you. I would have jumped if Weiss hadn’t stopped me.”
“Blake…”
“Finding you here has been the greatest relief I have ever felt in my whole life. But, most importantly, it gave me, us, a second chance. I am not risking it, and I am not waiting anymore.” She says solemnly, before looking up and right into her eyes, the amber shining like gold “Yang Xiao Long, I am in love with-“
Yang tries, she really does, but she just can’t resist. She just has to lean down to kiss her again. This time it lasts a little longer, Blake has the time to adjust and kiss her back while both of their arms find their way around each other.
“I’m sorry.” Yang says after pulling back, with a wide grin that says she’s not sorry at all. Somehow Blake can’t bring herself to be mad. 
Then, the next time they speak is together, like they’re one person, one mind, one soul.
“I love you.”
They grin at each other. Grins that turn into smiles, that turn into giggles, until they let out a full blown laughter. It’s not even that funny, but they laugh so hard that they start crying.
All of their stress and fears finally find a way out through that pure unrestricted laughter. All of the feelings, good and bad, but most importantly all the love that has been held close to their hearts, are now free and out into the air of that unique and magical world. And they laugh like crazy, like in love. 
When it finally calms down, the two women look at each other, catch their breaths, then kiss again.
There’s never a right time for this sort of thing, especially when you’re a huntress and the world has fallen onto your shoulders. They could be gone tomorrow, or live long enough to witness the end of the world. 
Now is the right time. So they kiss, and laugh, and enjoy it to its fullest. Because that’s what makes it all more perfect: it’s the present.
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dr3amlab · 1 year
Text
Too obvious? - Lee Donghyuck.
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SUMMARY — Donghyuck is adamant to make you believe that not everything is obvious.
PAIRING — Donghyuck x gn! reader.
GENRE — short fic, one shot, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, fluff, fluffffff.
WORD COUNT — idk, about 250 words ??? 😭
AUTHOR’S NOTE — I think I’m lowkey getting better at writing 😼
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"Please don't leave me!" he grabbed her hand, making her turn around to face him. "I have something to tell you."
The protagonist's sudden confession made your heart skip a beat. While hugging a pillow, you leaned towards the tv with teary eyes. You were too submerged in the movie that you didn't realize that your best friend was looking at you with amusement.
"damn y/n, I didn't think you were the type to cry for romcoms." donghyuck teased. Irritated by the remark he made, you tore your eyes from the tv. "hyuck, this is not the right time to speak nonsense. he is about to confess!" you sobbed
donghyuck chuckled. "How are you certain that he's going to confess?" he says while changing his position. "next thing you know, he'll ask her if he should paint his bathroom yellow or red." donghyuck puts his head on your lap, making you remove the pillow from your thighs.
"Maybe because it's a rom-com?" you played with his hair. "it's obvious that he's going to confess." you pouted. “Besides, yellow and red are ugly colors for a bathroom” you added " I don't know about that y/n, sometimes things are not as obvious as you think." Donghyuck says as he watches you as you seemed to not care about a word he just said. Your face displayed anticipation as you watched the two main character having a heart-felt conversation, that will possibly end up with them being a couple.
'Is it the right time?' Donghyuck thought, not sure if it was the perfect moment to confess his feelings to his best friend. 'Fuck it.’
"Y/N." He said but you didn't tear your eyes off the tv. "Y/N." He said again, but, alas, you still didn't spare him a glance. "Y/N." He said louder this time, finally earning your attention. "What?" You said, annoyed that you might miss the most important part of the movie. "I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time." He confessed,staring straight into your eyes. “And if you reciprocate my feelings, which i think you do, I would like to be your boyfriend.”
"What?" You said again but this time you were flabbergasted. “How did you know that?” You thought that you were very discreet with your feelings.
"So, do you reciprocate my feelings?" He said with confidence.
Your heart was beating so fast that you thought it was going to drop out of your chest. "I like you too, Hyuck. I've liked you for a long time too.” You never thought that you'll ever say those words to your childhood bestfriend. “And I’d love to be your girlfriend.” You said with a shy smile.
"I was right, wasn't I ?" He said with a grin on his face. "Not everything is obvious." He sat up on the sofa from his previous position while you looked at him with curious eyes. "You didn't expect me to confess to you, did you?" You could see the ghost of a smirk on his lips.
"Shut up, hyuck!" You said a tiny bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry , love," He said cutely as he leaned to kiss your cheek.
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user-omi · 6 months
Text
—something is deeply wrong with these mfers.
hilliam; cw: murder, stabbing, child murder, typical fnaf shenanigans, out of context roleplay replies. this can honestly be read platonically or romantically.
word count: 663
(1)
It's strange, this all started out normally—just curiosity making its rounds. But it never did go away, it stayed, festered in his hidden desires until one thought was left: just once.
Just once he had to try it, just to see how it felt, how it would go. Would he be able to get away with it? What would their blood taste like? What would their last expressions be? Would they refuse to look at him or—
The first kill is always the messiest, you're an amateur who's hungry for experience. But William Afton strived for perfection, and besides, it wasn't like he was in this alone. Looking back it really felt like a dream come true, his friend—best friend; childhood friend—has always been there for him.
Henry in some ways was a fool, thinking he could have both; his life and their life. But in the end he had to choose, and it seemed as if he chose himself. Far gone was his previous life, William made the choice for him.
As William bled out the voice of Henry rang out in his head, there's so much emotion in his voice yet it all muddied together to rid William of any understanding. He couldn't help to find this funny, he always thought—dreamt—of killing Henry. Seeing his blood paint the floor a beautiful red, how would Henry look? How would he feel?
Similar were his thoughts with Charlotte, it's why he had to do it, you understand, don't you? Curiosity had a hold on him at first, but now—now—he doesn't think he can live without it.
"What I... remember of... her? Charlotte? Or perhaps... your wife?" William chuckled, thinking of all the expressions Charlotte made during her death. "Your wife... would've been... next and then... and then you."
(2)
William grinned, it was vicious and victorious. Even as his body was falling apart, even as Henry had him pushed against the desk; even as his best friend drove the knife into him.
"Don't you see? Dear Henry, you think... you think you're getting rid of me?" A dark chuckle echoed around the room, but their eyes never left each other. There's a certain type of love that felt like hatred in your bones, perhaps this is what described them; perhaps there was no love at all. "I'll always come back, whenever thoughts... thoughts of your daughter, of sweet little Charlotte, come to you—I'll be tied to them. You can't think of Charlotte without me."
There's a heavy feeling in the air, the words of William ringing true. Every thought Henry will have, every action moving forward William will be there for. Dead as he may be the ghost of his memories will forever haunt Henry.
"Don't you... don't you see? Dear Henry, if you really didn't want her dead... you simply had to stop me the first time it happened. But you didn't... and here we are." Red splattered across Henry's face, not unlike what countless children's faces looked like the day they died. There's something so exciting, so... enticing about blood on Henry's face—it suits him.
Now Henry was going on a path much like his own, finding his own sins, and bathing in them. Allowing them to cleanse your body, tuck inside every crevice of your very being until you're nothing but the sin you've created. William's only regret is that he won't be able to watch it with his own eyes, but at least he knows one thing.
"Don't you see, dear Henry? I've won."
(3)
Counterroute for dialogue:
"Oh? Did you want me to say I regretted it? That within the depth of my very being I feel ashamed? Is that what you wanted to hear?" William chuckled, distorted and slurred from the blood trying to choke him. "I wonder, what would you have done if I said I regretted it? Would you have tried to work things out? Feel hesitant killing me... or feel even better about killing me?"
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michael-aftonz · 4 months
Text
guess who got back into writing omg... i finally finished this but bear with me, this was the first thing i've written that wasn't academic in literal years but Phew boy. this all stemmed from one single idea and my brain kinda exploded.
DISCLAIMERS:
* vanessa is NOT an afton in this fic. if you believe/hc that she is, this is not the fic for you.
* i DO NOT ship michael and vanessa, anything that happens between them in this fic is platonic + helps to further the plot.
* i am a GAY MALE and can reclaim the f slur.
* this fic contains homophobia and several mentions of the F slur, if this makes you uncomfortable, please skip over this fic or read at your own risk.
* there are descriptions of parental abuse and manipulation. there are also descriptions of anxiety attacks. if these topics make you uncomfortable, please do not read or read at your own risk!
* this is supposed to be set in the early 1980s so i tried to fill it with pop culture from that time, if it seems inaccurate please let me know and i'll find an alternative!
word count: 10,333 words 😦
name: i honestly hadn't thought of one Whoops. if you have any ideas let me know!
characters: michael afton, jeremy fitzgerald, vanessa shelly, william afton and mrs. fitzgerald.
ships: michael afton x jeremy fitzgerald
The three childhood friends were hanging out as usual, playing a very intense game of “truth or dare.” However, things were not turning out the way Michael had hoped. It was his turn once again and his friend Vanessa had an evil grin that spread from ear to ear.
“Okay, Mikey,” she started, practically erupting with excitement, “truth or dare.”
Now, Michael was never one to turn down a dare. However, he felt that this would only end badly. But then again, when was he known to listen to his instincts?
“Dare.”
Vanessa pretended to think for a moment before spouting out, “I've got it! You have to kiss everyone in this room.”
“Seriously, Van?” Michael rolled his eyes, but noticing that Vanessa was, indeed, serious he let out an exasperated groan. “Ugh, fine. But I better not find a polaroid of this on your wall later.”
Easy enough: all he had to do was kiss both Jeremy and Vanessa. No big deal. Besides, it wouldn't mean anything, right?
Michael scooted towards Vanessa first, who made quite a dramatic show of poking her lips out and pointing at them with her index finger. He leaned in and it was over without much further thought.
Now, he turned to his best friend - Jeremy Fitzgerald - and gave a little awkward smile.
“If this is too weird, Mike, I can have her give you another dare. I'm pretty sure she just wanted you to kiss her, anyway,” Jeremy spoke. He was always so considerate.
“It's only weird if you make it weird, man. Besides, a dare’s a dare.��
Michael took a deep breath and pressed a kiss onto Jeremy’s lips. However, this one was different than the previous one. While he felt nothing with Vanessa, his entire body felt like it had gotten set on fire. His heart rate quickened and suddenly the walls felt like they were close in around him. He couldn't breathe.
The only thing that jolted him back to reality was a familiar British voice going “Michael? Your siblings and I are back from the workshop.”
Michael quickly came back to his senses and backed away from Jeremy. He wiped his lips and made a show of being remotely disgusted.
“Ew, Jer, what did you eat? I swear, your breath smelled like salt and vinegar chips.” Michael teased, trying his hardest to make sure no one else noticed his racing heart. What he couldn't figure out, though, is why he had such a different reaction to Jeremy’s kiss than Vanessa's. Maybe, he thought, it's because it wasn't right. Yeah, I'm supposed to kiss girls - not boys. That's the only reasonable explanation; my brain is trying to rationalize why I'd kiss Jeremy of all people.
The night continued semi-peacefully, no other heart racing dares occurred - which Michael appreciated.
The day ended and Michael’s friends went home, leaving him to his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, he kept thinking about the events from earlier in the day - more specifically, the kiss between Jeremy and himself. He grabbed his walkman, rewound the tape, and put the headphones over his ears. If he couldn't hear how loud his heart was beating, he could ignore the noise inside his head too. All he needed was to melt into the music. And to never confront this problem. Ever.
Michael drifted off into a fitful sleep - tossing and turning every second. His mind kept returning to his best friend’s kiss; the warmth he felt throughout his entire body, the loud beating of his heart, and the short moment where he could swear he felt Jeremy kiss back. It was all too much for him to handle right now. He needed to talk to someone. Normally, he'd call Jeremy and invite him over, but these circumstances were very different.
He sighed and walked to the landline before imputing the all too familiar number.
She picked up right away, which wasn't surprising.
“Mikey? Is something wrong?” Vanessa's voice sounded through the speaker, full of concern. Michael never called her this late.
“Hey, Ness.. I- uh.. Can you meet me at the park?” Michael whispered, trying his best not to worry his friend any more than he already had.
“Sure thing. But, Mikey, you need to tell me if something is wrong.”
“Yeah, yeah. I'll tell you when we get there, okay? It's… hard to explain.”
He didn't even wait on her reply before he hung up the phone and ran to grab his windbreaker. Carefully, he slid open the window and climbed through - making sure not to make any noise. Once he made it through, he silently closed the window all but a crack. He'd need to get back in somehow.
He noticed Vanessa's brightly colored sweater and walked over.
“Thanks for coming. I really needed someone to talk to.” He smiled slightly and pulled her into a hug.
“Of course. You can always talk to me, Mike.” Vanessa smiled back and motioned for the two of them to sit on the bench.
The two sat down and Michael exhaled.
“Vanessa, have you ever… Ugh. I don't know how to word this.” Michael started, slowly hiding his face in his hands.
Vanessa placed a reassuring hand on Michael’s shoulders and made a “go on” gesture.
“When you kiss someone, right, you're supposed to… I don't know. Feel something?” Michael continued - growing increasingly more frustrated.
“Typically, yes. If you like that person.” Vanessa replied, a curious look on her face. Could this be what she had hoped?
Michael took another deep breath.
“Vanessa, this might be a weird request.. But.. I need to know if I'm going crazy or not. I.. I need you to kiss me again.”
Vanessa looked at him like he'd just grown two heads.
“You're right, Mike. That is weird. You're being really weird right now.”
“Ness, I know it's strange. I need to test something. Please just do this one thing for me and I won't ask anything weird of you ever again.” Michael pleaded, looking towards his friend.
Vanessa thought for a moment before nodding. She leaned in and placed a small kiss on his lips. Michael waited patiently for something to happen and… Shit Nothing. No electricity, no loud heart beating. Michael pulled away and shrugged.
“Vanessa… You said you were supposed to feel something if you kissed someone you liked, right?” Michael spoke, pursing his lips together and debating if he should actually tell her what was on his mind.
“Mike, you're a great friend… But I don't see you that way,” Vanessa replied, placing a small hand on Michael’s shoulder in a sort of “let him down easy” gesture.
Michael couldn't help but laugh at this. “Vanessa.. I wasn't talking about our kiss. I.. uh.”
Vanessa looked incredibly confused and if she raised her eyebrow any more it might possibly leave her head.
“When.. when we played truth or dare.. Um.. and you told me to kiss everyone in the room.. Well. uh..” Michael stammered, trying to piece his thoughts together, “something.. Happened when I kissed Jeremy. It felt ‘different’ when we kissed than when I kissed him. It felt.. like lightning was coursing through my body. My heart felt like it was going to explode. It was so loud. And then with you.. There was nothing. I really just felt like you needed some chapstick..” He rambled on, looking down and fidgeting with the zipper on his windbreaker.
Vanessa looked oddly relieved that Mike wasn't confessing his feelings for her.
“Mikey, it sounds to me that you might have yourself a little crush on our friend Jerry.” She smiled and patted her friend on the back.
“That's the problem.. I'm not supposed to,” Michael sighed, placing his head into his hands once again, “do you have any idea how my Dad would react if he found out that I…” He shook his head and trailed off.
Vanessa’s smile slightly dropped, “Well.. Don't tell him. Don't tell your Dad. Have you even thought about telling Jeremy?”
“No! I can't tell Jeremy. What if he laughs at me? What if he never wants to see me again? Vanessa, he's my best friend. I can't have him thinking of me like that…” Michael began to sniffle and he hid his head even further.
His friend moved to pat his back but Michael quickly shot off the bench. All his tears began to turn into anger.
“I already get so much shit for my dorky little sister and my wimpy little brother. Do you know how much more I’d get for being a fucking faggot?” He huffed and began to storm back toward his house.
“Mike, wait!”
“You have it so easy, Vanessa! You don't understand.” And before Vanessa could even utter the first syllable of her next word, Michael had already left the park and trudged back towards his house.
He crept back inside the window and marched toward his room - still making sure to be quiet. However, when he was in to his room, he shut his door and angrily threw this windbreaker towards his bed.
Michael sniffled once again, reaching for his walkman and quickly placing the headphones on his ears. As his tape began to play, Michael tucked his head between his knees and tears began streaming down his cheeks.
He had never quite mastered the act of silent crying, but he wasn't as dramatic as his younger brother, either. Michael hated how weak he felt when crying, he also hated how imaginary words from William could ruin his evening.
Michael, himself, didn't even understand why he felt this way about Jeremy. He only knew two things: one, for some reason, he desperately wanted to kiss Jeremy again and two, his father would most likely kill him if he found out. Oh, and three, he hated himself for feeling like this - especially about his friend.
After a few more minutes of quietly sobbing against his bedroom door, Michael had finally stopped crying. He sniffled once again and wiped off his face.
Michael looked up at the flashing alarm clock on his nightstand. 6:00 am. He realized he hadn't slept much the night before - and the guilt of snapping at Vanessa was weighing on him. I should apologize, Michael thought to himself, she was only trying to help, after all.
He took off his headphones and neatly placed his walkman back on the nightstand. He walked outside his bedroom door and noted a small plush fox sitting there with a note that read: Heard you crying. I left my friend because they make me feel better.
Upon reading the note, Michael’s anger slightly returned from the night before. The Crybaby is making fun of me? He picked up the plush toy and ripped apart the seems before throwing it down the hallway.
He scoffed and walked out the door, intent on seeing Vanessa first and apologizing. While on his way towards his friends house, he noticed Jeremy heading the same way. Had Vanessa invited Jeremy here? Did Vanessa tell him what happened between herself and Michael last night? He really hoped not. Yes, Michael had snapped at Vanessa, but he told her everything in confidence.
He tried his best to avoid Jeremy, but something about hm seemed different. Michael couldn't stop noticing little details about him: The way his hair swayed when he walked, the clink of all the patches on his bag, the ever present smile on his face. All of these things were just distracting Michael. He came to apologize to Vanessa, not stare at his best friend.
Michael shook himself out of his stupor and he gave a small wave to Jeremy before going to Vanessa’s door and knocking.
As soon as the door opened, Michael was already rambling.
“Ness, I'm so sorry about last night. I didn't mean to snap at you.. I was just… you know. Overwhelmed.” He pushed himself inside the doorframe and wrapped his friend into a hug.
Vanessa simply nodded and hugged Michael back, “Mikey, I knew you'd be here to apologize so… I invited Jeremy, too. I think you two need to talk.”
A look of shock crosses over Michael's face, but before he could say anything, Jeremy walked in to the room.
“Van? You said you wanted to see me?” Jeremy asked, his voice causing the hair on the back of Michael's neck to stand up.
“Actually, Jerry, Mike has something he needs to talk to you about.” Vanessa responded, smiling from ear to ear. “I'll just be in the other room. You two can talk.”
Michael gave her a subtle “I am going to murder you later” look as Vanessa left the room. Soon, it was just him and Jeremy standing in the walkway of Vanessa's home.
Jeremy gave his typical reassuring smile, which caused Michael's heart to do jumping jacks.
“What's up? Is.. is your dad being weird again?” Jeremy asked, genuine concern filling his voice, and he moved to place a caring hand on Michael’s shoulder.
“That's.. that's the thing, Jer. You’re always so thoughtful and.. you care so much about Vanessa and I. It's really sweet,” Michael started, his nerves being to bubble in his stomach.
“Okay…? I don't really understand what this has to do with anything.. Am I too nice?” Jeremy looked utterly confused (and concerned). He honestly had no idea where this was going but he wanted to be supportive of his friend.
Michael smiled at Jeremy’s response, shaking his head lightly. “No, you're not too nice. You're.. the right amount of nice. I always appreciate everything you do for me. However, I didn't realize that until recently.” He was silent for a moment, weighing how to proceed next. “Jeremy, can I ask you a serious question?”
“Of course, Mike, You can ask me whatever you want. I'll try my best to answer.” Jeremy nodded and sent another reassuring smile at Michael.
Michael took a deep breath and nodded. I'm going to do this. I'm actually going to do this. “Did you… feel.. uh.. feel anything when,” his cheeks flushed a light pink and he began speaking again, much quieter this time, “when we kissed…?”
“I'm sorry? I didn't hear that last part, Mike. Can you repeat that?” Jeremy furrowed his brows, turning his head to his right side – as he is partially deaf in his left ear and hears better on his right side.
Michael closed his eyes and began repeating what he just said, “Did you feel anything… when we kissed?”
Jeremy’s eyes widened slightly and he raised an eyebrow, “Well.. nothing I don't usually feel when I'm around you. What, exactly, do you mean by that?”
Michael was slightly disappointed and then he realized Jeremy asked for clarification. “I mean like.. I don't know. When- when we kissed.. It felt like my body was on fire. My heartbeat was so fast and.. to be honest, I.. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm sorry if this was weir-” He was quickly interrupted by the soft press of Jeremy’s lips against his own. Michael's eyes widened but, once he got his bearings, he leaned into the other.
Jeremy pulled away after a few seconds - but not being the all too familiar shutter-click of Vanessa's polaroid camera went off - and smiled brightly up at Michael.
“I hope that answers your question, Mike.” Jeremy laughed, his own cheeks. “I was really wondering when you'd notice. I.. uh.. I've liked you for a very long time.”
Michael's eyes were still wide and he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. His cheeks were now a bright red. However, he soon snapped out of his daze and realized he heard the camera click.
“Vanessa, PLEASE tell me you didn't take a picture of that!” Michael moved away from Jeremy and pratically sprinted towards the other room.
“Mike, wait!” Jeremy called out as he followed after his two friends.
Vanessa was busy trying to hide and dodge underneath several pieces of furniture while Michael chased her.
“Ness, please give me that picture. You don't know what will happen if my Dad find that. And you know how often he visits your dad. They literally work together.” Michael pleaded, crouching down to try and yank Vanessa out from underneath her bed.
“Fine, fine. Only because you're my friend, Michael. But you owe me film!” Vanessa caved, crawling out from underneath the bed and reluctantly handing over the polaroid.
Michael made a small movement of triumph, however, he quickly turned embarrassed when he took a closer look at the picture (which had almost fully developed by now). Apparently, Michael had placed his hand on the base of Jeremy's neck without noticing and the photo made it look as if he was pulling him in closer.
“So..,” Vanessa started as she took her two friends by their wrists and plopped them down on her bed, “did you two decide what you're going to call.. this?” She motioned to the two of them and raised her eyebrow. “I mean, if you decide to call it anything, that is.”
The boys shrugged and looked at each other. They were both silent for a moment and Jeremy finally spoke. “I know that your dad is.. kinda weird about this type of stuff, but my parents are cool with it. And.. if you're comfortable with it, I'd like to call myself your boyfriend, Mike. At.. at least to my parents.”
Michael remained silent for a moment, thinking over the options. After a few seconds, he nodded and placed his hand inside of Jeremy’s.
“I'd really like that, Jer. I'm just sorry that I can't tell my family. I mean, if my Mom was still here, she'd be supportive.” Michael replied as a small smile spread across his lips. Jeremy nodded and simply pulled him into a side hug. However, the cute moment was soon interrupted by Vanessa throwing herself in between the two and snapping another picture before they could protest.
“At least let me keep this one! It's just the three of us, so it's not incriminating!” Vanessa asked, already moving to make a sprint if she needed.
“Fine, fine. I have no objections there.”
The rest of the evening continued in much of the normal fashion: the three of them playing various games and making fun of each other. However, Michael caught himself glancing over at Jeremy more frequently. Soon, Michael knew it was time to head home.
“Hey, Mike, do you mind if I tag along on your walk home? I live a few minutes away from your place.” Jeremy asked, jogging up beside Michael after he walked out of Vanessa’s house.
Michael nodded with a smile. He'd secretly been hoping that Jeremy would suggest this. He loves Vanessa and all, but he wanted a few moments of just himself and Jeremy.
The lanky boy walked next to Michael and reached for his hand. Michael hesitated for a moment, looking around the neighborhood for any sign of his father, before taking Jeremy’s hand.
They continued on their walk until they were at Michael's doorstep. He said his goodbyes and - even though it hurt his heart - waved instead of sending Jeremy off with something more affectionate.
He fumbled with the door knob, the door then swung open and the creaky hinges alerted anyone within a 1,200 mile radius. Michael physically recoiled at the sound and entered the house - hoping for less noise.
He had made it less than a foot from the door before the trouble began. He noticed it instantly: the disappointed look in his father’s eyes. What did I do now? Michael thought, bracing himself for the worst possible outcome.
“Michael,” the agitating voice stated.
Well. Better get this over with.
“Father,” Michael replied, trying not to make the grit in his teeth obvious with his speech. He hated called William anything formal, especially since he was the only one of his siblings who had to.
“Do you have ANY idea of the distress you caused?”
“No, sir.”
“You know exactly what you did. Your poor brother came into my workshop crying. Do you know why that was?”
“Isn't the little shit always crying?”
“Don't get smart with me, boy. And, you will not use that kind of language when speaking to me, or this will get a whole lot worse for you. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Michael grits his teeth even harder.
“Now, your brother comes to me, and in his hands are the pieces of a prototype product for my new animatronic line. The fox plush.”
Shit.
“Michael, I will ask you one time. What did you do to the product?”
“I didn't know it was important, Father. He was making fun of me and I thought - Hey, he has enough toys. He won't miss this one. I destroyed it... to teach him a lesson.”
“Destroyed it to teach him a lesson? Fascinating. And how would you feel if something like that happened to your precious walkman? Or.. those.. cassette tapes with those grotesque songs you seem to enjoy? Hmm?”
Michael's face fell and he reared back in horror.
“You wouldn't.”
“Oh, believe me, Michael. I would. As a matter of fact, go pick out your favorites and bring them to me. Along with the scissors.”
This completely ruined his good mood from today, but he knew that there was no getting out of this. Michael begrudgingly went into his bedroom, crouched down, and riffled through his box of cassette tapes. Of course, he was smart enough not to choose his actual favorites. He chose some he wouldn't mind losing (probably those he was recommended and didn't like as well as the others) and stashed his favorites inside of his sock drawer - along with the polaroid of himself and Jeremy.
Michael hesitated before handing several tapes and a pair of sharp scissors to his father. He cringed as his father opened the latch that concealed the tape and began unwinding - cutting each segment until all that was left was a pile of tape shreddings and several plastic cases.
“I hope you've learned your lesson, Michael. If this happens again, I will fish around for every single tape you've hidden. Now, clean this up.”
Michael gulped in surprise; how did his father know he had hidden several tapes? His mouth remained agape as he bent down and began cleaning up the remains of his music taste.
The staleness of the room only dimmed his mood: the too dark carpet with mysterious stains, the uneven curtains with several moth-eaten holes, the overall greyness of the place. It wasn't a mystery why William had destroyed his tapes, the man clearly had a love of all things boring and soulless.
Once he had finished, Michael knew he couldn't stay here. He entered his bedroom, making sure to lock the door the from inside. He looked around for a bit before grabbing a draw-string bag from his closet and began stuffing clothes inside of it. All packed, Michael once again cracked open his window and crept outside - leaving it open enough for him to enter once he got back. If he came back, of course.
He really only had one place to go - and the fact that there was only one person he wanted to see.
The gloomy atmosphere from his apartment seemed to drift out into the streets: the skies were much darker than before and there was a certain musk that meant it was going to rain soon. Because of Michael's quick packing, he was ill-prepared for the rain.
Better walk fast, I guess. I've still got three blocks to go. Michael thought to himself, tugging on the strings on his bag to ensure it was secured. However, the rain came much faster than he could walk and soon he was drenched - with still a block and a half to go. There looked to be no end in sight for the sudden monsune of rain. Just my luck. Just my fucking luck.
He began sprinting, his brightly colored sneakers squeaking against the pavement and his body getting continuously soaked. By the time he arrived at Jeremy’s, he looked like a kitten someone had just given a bath - completely soaked and fuming. He hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door.
Who answered, however, was not who he expected. A polite, older woman (who he knew as Mrs. Fitzgerald) answered the door with a look of utter concern.
“Michael, honey! You're soaking wet.” Her smooth voice radiated with motherly concern and the slight southern twang made everything feel more homey.
“I apologize for showing up uninvited, Mrs. Fitzgerald.” Michael replied sheepishly, “I.. I can leave if it's too much of a bother.”
“Nonsense! You get in here and dry off. I'll let Jeremy know you're here. It's a wonder you didn't get swept away in this terrible storm,” Mrs. Fitzgerald replied, opening the door wide enough to let Michael in before closing it to prevent any more cool air from seeping in.
Michael thanked the woman once again and politely wiped his feet on the mat. Mrs. Fitzgerald turned around and looked at his clothes once more.
“Oh dear.. You're completely soaked through. Don't worry, I'm sure either Jeremy or my husband have something you can borrow. I'll get those washed and dried for you soon, sweetheart. You stay right here. I'll go find you something nice.”
Michael nodded, having really no other option than to wait for Mrs. Fitzgerald to come back. Soon the woman returned with a large pile of clothing - from t-shirts with interesting tie-dye patterns to large, oversized sweaters that Michael was pretty sure he could use as a blanket if he needed to. He was soon completely dried and dressed from head to toe in the warmest clothes Jeremy’s mother could stuff him in. He quickly handed his sopping wet clothing to Mrs. Fitzgerald and gave her another round of thanks.
As he did this, Jeremy practically ran down the stairs.
“Mike? Is something wrong?” The blonde asked, concern filling his voice. He moved closer and began checking Michael’s hands and arms for any sign of injuries.
“I'm fine, Jer, seriously.” Michael gave him a reassuring smile and placed a caring hand onto his shoulder, “can we just go talk in your room? I.. I couldn't stay at home tonight.”
Jeremy nodded and motioned for Michael to follow him up the stairs. Once upstairs, Michael was simply blown away. This room was basically identical to the person who lived in it: colorful, full of life, and it had a sort of “I'm at home” feeling. Jeremy’s room at everything - from too many blankets to count to the newest NES system. Michael had only been in here once before, as the three of them usually went to his house or Vanessa's, but it still amazed him how much it replicated Jeremy’s personality.
Jeremy sat on the edge of his bed and motioned for Michael to join him, to which he quickly obliged. The two talked for a while - mostly just Michael avoiding the topic he originally intended to talk about - and eventually Michael grew restless of sitting and laid himself across Jeremy’s lap. Jeremy smiled down at him and absentmindedly began twirling a strand of Michael's long hair around his finger.
“Mike, can you please tell me what happened? I know when you're avoiding talking about something.” Jeremy scolded, a small pout forming on his lips. He had been Michael’s best friend for year, of course he was going to pick up on the little things - especially when Michael wasn't being entirely truthful.
“Fine, fine. I did something stupid, okay? That brat of a brother I have heard something he shouldn't have and I decided he needed a little payback,” Michael started, slightly embarrassed that he'd have to tell this to Jeremy - of all people - because Jeremy was part of the reason he did this, “anyway, so.. I took one of his plush toys that he left in my doorway and I.. ripped it up.”
Jeremy raised his eyebrow, as if to question why this meant he was not able to stay home, but he didn't interrupt Michael.
“Well, it turns out that it didn't actually belong to the little shit. It was something Father was working on. A prototype, I don't know,” Michael made a shrugging gesture and continued with his explanation, “Either way, let's just say he wasn't too thrilled about the damage done to it. And uh.. several of my tapes got the axe. I managed to hide the best ones, but I doubt they'll last for long.”
“That's.. awful. Mike, I'm so sorry.” Jeremy’s frown deepened and he brushed a small strand of Michael’s hair away from his face.
“Nah, I probably had it coming. He just.. he makes me so angry sometimes, Jeremy. I fight so hard for his attention and yet some snot nosed crybaby gets it for free? How is that fair?” Michael's face morphed into a frown and he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Aw, Mike. I'm sure he doesn't mean to ignore you. Look, you're wonderful. If he doesn't see that, than it's his problem.” Jeremy leaned over, making his face a few inches away from Michael's, and placing a hand on his chin.
Seeing that Michael’s frown still remained, Jeremy pressed a small kiss against his lips. And another. And another. Until Michael finally smiled and playfully pushed him off.
“Jer, you're going to suffocate me,” Michael teased, laughing as he kept his hand up to prevent any further kiss attacks.
“Well, it's not my fault! I couldn't just let you be sad.”
Michael rolled his eyes and gave Jeremy one more playful shove, “Jeremy Fitzgerald, you are insufferable.” However, Michael was glad for the distraction. He moved from his position on Jeremy's lap and laid down across the end of the blonde’s bed - spreading out like a starfish. Tonight was just perfect; absolutely nothing could ruin Michael's night.
Or so he thought.
Back at Michael’s house, everything was not as peaceful as the Fitzgeralds’. William was knocking on Michael's door - but he received no response, obviously.
“Michael? I told you not to lock your door.”
Silence.
“Michael?”
More silence.
William tried the handle one more time, getting increasingly more angry when it continued not to open.
William walked outside, retracing what little footsteps hadn't been washed away in the rainstorm. However, Michael's “sneaky escape” hadn't been as sneaky as he had hoped. William instantly noticed the trampled flowers which Michael had climbed down onto. This caused him to look up and notice the window slightly ajar.
Michael, Michael, Michael.. Oh, I wish I raised you better. William thought to himself, shaking his head with a loud “tsk-tsk.” He quickly hoisted himself onto the ledge and opened the window - making sure to close it at just the right height to make it seem unnoticeable in case Michael returned sooner than he expected.
You've brought this on yourself, Michael. William tsk’d once again before he began rummaging through Michael’s drawers - taking any tape he could find. When he got to the last drawer, however, he noticed something that wasn't.. quite a tape. It was flipped upside down, but it was evident that it was a polaroid of some kind.
William pondered for a moment before picking it up and flipping it over to check the contents. He reared back in horror upon seeing what it was: a picture of his son and some blonde boy together.
William was seething as he crumpled the photo in his palm and he began searching faster for the remaining tapes. Once he had them, William placed all the tapes into a bag and - after unlocking the door - took them outside and grabbed one of his favorite instruments: the hammer.
Smash!
Crunch!
Crack!
William hefted the hammer over his shoulder again and again until there was nothing left but shards of plastic and several unwound tapes. His breathing grew ragged as his anger continued to overtake him. Eventually, he placed the hammer down and stood up - dusting off his pants and walking back inside.
Now, he needed to wait for Michael to return. And where else than his son’s bedroom.
Michael had closed his eyes and was listening to the sounds of Jeremy’s room, which were all incredibly calming. He could hear the faint rain against Jeremy's window, the sound of his own breathing, the emptiness in his mind. Everything was quiet, just as it should be. He heard the creak of the steps and the following soft click of the door opening. Jeremy had stepped out a while ago to find them some snacks, and apparently, he had succeeded. The sound of rustling chip bags (and Jeremy struggling to get inside the door) shook Michael out of his stupor and he quickly went to help, opening the door wide enough for Jeremy and his armful of prizes to enter.
“My knight in shining armor,” Jeremy joked, sending a bright smile towards Michael. “I was wondering when you'd open the door.”
“Oh, really? Did I not move fast enough for you, your highness?” Michael teased back and sent and eyeroll towards the blonde. “Here, let me help you.” He grabbed a few of the spoils from Jeremy’s arms and arranged them in a makeshift pile - it wasn't neat, but it was the best he could do without putting them on the floor.
Jeremy thanked him before placing the remaining spoils into the pile - they had enough snacks to last for weeks. Michael sat down and scooped out a handful of chips, popping one into his mouth and occasionally trying to catch them. Jeremy plopped himself down next to Michael and leaned his head against his shoulder. This caused Michael to widen his eyes in surprise. He really didn't know what to do in this situation. He hadn't been in a relationship before - let alone with someone like Jeremy. He hesitated and then placed his hand on Jeremy's lower back.
A soft knock on the door caused Michael to look up. Michael felt his pace quicken: this would be one of Jeremy's parents, which worried him. He knew they were more accepting than his own Father, but he also didn't know what they would be willing to accept. Plus, Jeremy was currently laying against him - which would be hard to explain if they weren't accepting.
Before he could think, the door slowly opened and Mrs Fitzgerald stuck her head inside.
“Oh! Sorry, boys. I didn't realize you were busy! I made some cookies and I.. I wanted to share some with you,” She spoke, slightly embarrassed that they already had so many snacks.
“No thanks, Mom. We’re good,” Jeremy spoke, smiling at his mother. He thought for a moment before adding, “Hey.. Mom?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Come in here.. Uh. Mike and I want to tell you something,” Jeremy spoke, briefly standing up to open the door and motion for his mother in.
Michael locked eyes with his boyfriend as if telepathically saying “are we really doing this??” Jeremy simply laughed in response and walked back over to Michael, offering the brown haired boy his hand. Michael hesitated before taking Jeremy's hand and standing up next to him.
Jeremy took a deep breath and wrapped his arm around Michael's shoulders. “Mom.. Michael and I.. are,” he begun shaking a little and Michael quickly turned his head towards Jeremy and gave a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. He quietly whispered something encouraging to the blonde and turned back towards Jeremy’s mother.
“Mom. Michael and I are.. dating. He's my boyfriend,” Jeremy finally managed to speak the words (and release the breath he didn't know he was holding) and then he looked towards his mother, awaiting her response.
Jeremy's mother was silent for a while and then she broke out into a big grin. She moved closer to the two boys and wrapped them into a hug.
“Oh, sweetheart, I'm so happy for you. Thank you so much for telling me,” Mrs. Fitzgerald spoke softly, moving her hands and gently cupping Jeremy’s face.
“Mooom, you're embarrassing me,” Jeremy complained, trying to wriggle out of his mother’s grasp. Michael couldn't help but smile at the scene, however, something inside him hurt. He realized he could never experience this situation. To be honest, it made him jealous. But he'd never tell Jeremy that, of course. Just because Michael's family had not been the best didn't mean he needed to ruin someone else’s happiness.
“Oh, Michael, get in here! Let me give you a big hug. You have no idea how happy my Jeremy-Bear is when he talks about you,” Mrs. Fitzgerald spoke, quickly moving to drag Michael into the hug once again before he could protest. “I'm very proud of both of you boys. I know it's tough to tell someone something like this.”
She gave them each one more tender, motherly arm squeeze before exiting back down the stairs.
“Your mom is so sweet, Jer,” Michael spoke once Mrs. Fitzgerald had left, though he didn't seem to notice the sadness that had seeped into his voice. But Jeremy did. He always did. He felt Jeremy's arms wrapped around him before he heard him move.
“She loves you, Mike.” Jeremy spoke softly, his grip tightening slightly around the shorter boy.
Michael smiled sadly and nodded before burying his head in the crook of Jeremy's neck. “I'm glad someone does, at least.”
“Don’t you dare say shit like that again, Michael Afton. You have so many people who care about you - my parents, Vanessa, Vanessa’s parents, me! Your dad can go to hell.”
Michael sort of shrugged, but made no effort to respond. Jeremy moved back a bit, gripping Michael by both shoulders, and shook him.
“I’m serious. You're so important to everyone around you. Who cares what your father thinks?”
“Sorry-”
“No. You have nothing to apologize for. None of this is your fault. Life dealt you a bad hand - but, Mike, you're the strongest person I know. Most people would've crumbled by now.” Jeremy cut him off before Michael could apologize any more, cupping the sides of his face so Michael was looking him in the eye.
“I'm so tired, Jeremy. Everyday he gets worse, I never know when he’ll snap next.”
“Yes, but you shouldn't have to! That's the thing.”
“Please.. can we just drop it?” Michael avoided Jeremy’s gaze and began fidgeting with the sleeves of his borrowed sweater.
“You're right, I'm sorry,” Jeremy apologized and released Michael's face. Then, he realized that Michael probably was physically tired, too. “C'mon, let's head to bed. It's been a wild day. Plus, the rain doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. I'm sure my Mom wouldn't mind you staying the night.”
Before Michael could respond, Jeremy had moved away and began untucking the layers of blankets that seemed to hide his bed.
Jeremy grabbed Michael's wrist and gently pulled him towards the bed and sat him down.
“You can use as many blankets as you want, I don't mind!” Jeremy beamed. He then preceded to have an “oh!” moment and disappeared inside his closet. Michael heard lots of rummaging and his curiosity continued to grow. Soon, Jeremy emerged once again. This time, he was holding a pair of pajamas with various pictures of E.T. littered across them.
“They might be a little big, but you can borrow them for the night,” Jeremy spoke as he walked over and placed them in Michael’s hands, “unless you want to sleep in old jeans..?” He raised an eyebrow, though it was nothing more than teasing.
Michael rolled his eyes, thanked Jeremy, and quickly went to change into the pajamas. Once he returned, he nearly folded his borrowed clothing and placed them on the nearest flat surface. He hesitated a bit - unsure of where he should lay down. However, Jeremy quickly patted the spot next to him on his bed.
“I don't mind sharing, really. And! I don't bite. Mostly,” Jeremy reassured the shorter as he scooted over to make room. “Besides, we did this at plenty of sleep overs before. Just think of it like that!”
Michael nodded and laid down next to Jeremy, who gave him another reassuring smile. “Thanks. I'm sorry for imposing myself on you, especially without calling first.” He whispered while pulling some blankets over the two of them.
“Nah, don't worry about it. You're welcome any time you like.”
The two sat in silence for a while and eventually Jeremy began to drift off. Michael hesitated, thinking over his next decision carefully, and then impulsively turned and rested his head against Jeremy's chest.
Jeremy let out a sleepy “huh?” at the feeling of weight on his chest and then smiled when he realized what Michael had done. He let his arms naturally fall and land on Michael's upper back, however one moved to its earlier position of twirling a few strands of Michael's hair around his fingers.
A few more minutes of silence pass and Jeremy begins to drift off once again, however he is quickly interrupted.
“Jeremy?” Michael asked quietly, waiting a bit to see if Jeremy had fully fallen asleep.
“Mm?” Jeremy replied with a sleepy mumble.
“Why is everything in my life so difficult?”
“I don't know, Mike.. I really don't know.”
Michael sighed and decided that would be the best answer he'd get - unless he wanted some sort of religious spiel about certain plans and whatnot. He left Jeremy return to sleep before joining him a few minutes later. He decided he better enjoy this moment while it lasted, despite the bubbling anxiety that was welling up in his stomach. He certainly didn't look forward to returning home tomorrow.
One problem at a time, Mike. One problem at a time. He thought to himself as he was finally able to drift off to sleep.
Turns out it would be several problems at one time.
Michael dressed in his (now clean and dry, thanks to Mrs. Fitzgerald) clothes from the previous day and began his trek back to his own apartment - making sure to pick a time he knew William would be working in the hellscape he called his workshop.
He carefully retraced his usual path and made it to the front lawn. Taking another step, Michael heard a loud crunch. He looked around noticed several objects glinting in the sun and went over to investigate. Michael felt his heart sank when he realized it was pieces of plastic. He knelt down and took a closer look, finding the pieces of all his favorite tapes. And, he was pretty sure he had his favorite songs stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
Damn it, Michael thought as he sighed and moved away from the pile of plastic scraps, I guess he noticed I was gone.
He shook his head and continued toward his bedroom window - which looked exactly the same as he had left it the night before.
Not thinking anything of it, and with the rain having washed away any evidence of William’s entrance, Michael pushed open his window and hoisted himself inside. He landed with a small “oomph” and dusted his pants off. While dusting his pants, however, he noticed another shadow present in the room. He slowly looked up and locked eyes with none other than William himself.
“William Michael Afton, where have you been?” William spoke, his arms crossed over his chest and he stood in a powerful stance. However, Michael noticed there was something crumpled in his left fist.
“Don't fucking call me that. My name is Michael,” Michael spat back, absolutely seething at being called his legal name - no one EVER called him by that, he'd probably punch them if they did.
“I wouldn't be so sure, Junior. You see, I was the one who named you. I think I know what your name is.” There he went again, dismissing Michael's entire personhood. Well, it wasn't anything he wasn't used to. Michael used to cry every night until his Mother finally agreed to let him go by Michael instead.
“Anyway, you haven't answered my question. Where. The. Hell. Have. You. Been?” William spoke again, moving closer and jabbing a finger harshly into Michael's ribs with every word. “Answer me.”
“Nowhere, sir.”
“Are you sure that's the answer you want to go with?” William narrows his eyes, leaning over his son in an attempt to make him cave in; shrink himself down and disappear. After all, that's what he wants. For Michael to disappear.
Michael briefly glanced at his father's eyes, noting the only emotions present were anger and boredom. That's how he always looked at Michael, though sometimes there was a sprinkle of disappointment. He looked back at the floor and gulped. Just tell him, Egghead. He already knows you left. He mentally scolded himself before speaking.
“A friend’s. I was at a friend’s house, Father.”
“Hmm,” William pursed his lips and scrutinized Michael’s body language and tone for any hint of dishonesty. “Which friend, exactly?”
Michael gulped once again. If he told him, he risked putting Jeremy in danger. But if he didn't, then he put himself in danger. No big deal, he could handle that. But he desperately wanted to protect Jeremy, so he remained silent.
“Answer me, goddamn it!” William raised his voice, his hand flying to the collar of Michael's shirt. Michael still remained silent, even as William had slammed him into the bookshelf and sent several personal objects (some of them glass) cascading to the floor with a loud crash.
Michael had to bite his lip to avoid crying out in pain - he was sure that he would have a few bruises, most likely cuts too, since the glasses broke on the impact and gashed through his windbreaker, managing to hit skin. Another large glass photo frame crashed into his face and left a large gash across his left eye and a bruise across his cheekbone.
“Your silence is not his protection, you know,” William whispered, setting Michael back on the ground and releasing his collar.
“W.. what are you talking about?” Michael spoke, straightening his jacket and still refusing to look at William.
“Don't play dumb with me,” William finally unfurled his left fist and revealed a crumpled up polaroid. Michael's heart sank once again; he knew exactly what that was. “If that faggot Fitzgerald is making you think you're one of those queers, I will never let you see him again.”
“N-no.. that's not.. He's not.. Uh.. I'm not-” Michael shook his head furiously, scrambling to come up with an excuse.
“I don't care what he does in his own home, but he will not infect mine. Not with this.. disease,” William scoffed and shoved the polaroid into Michael’s face - trying to emphasize what exactly the ‘disease’ was.
“If you ever pull something like this again, I will destroy more things than you cassette tapes, William Michael Afton.”
“Stop. Stop fucking calling me that,” Michael finally broke out of his stupor and began shaking uncontrollably. His anger was beginning to take control of him and he hated how much it made him look like William.
“Just.. leave me alone. I'm not gay, alright! It was just some stupid dare. It didn't mean anything. Vanessa took the picture as a joke, okay? It's all one big fucking joke!” The words felt like poison leaving Michael's mouth, they burned as they bubbled through his throat. He felt awful for not being able to defend himself or Jeremy. He felt awful that William was his father. He just felt awful.
“Good. Then you won't be needing this, will you?” William asked, the hatred evident in his voice. Michael looked up just as he heard the first rip - right through Jeremy’s face on the polaroid. He felt a pang in his heart but simply shook his head “no.” William continued until the entire thing was no more than a few paper scraps with what remained of Jeremy and Michael’s facial features.
“Oh, and clean up this room.” And with that, William stormed out once again. Michael slid down the backside of his door and crumpled to his knees. He had never felt so empty and alone in his life. He desperately wanted to cry but he would not give William the satisfaction over controlling his emotions. He would not cry. He would not cry. He would not cry.
A single tear began trailing down his cheek. He would cry.
Brrng Brrrng
The phone rang for what felt like the seventeenth time. It was getting on William’s nerves. He started to call out for someone else to answer it, but he couldn't exactly say “hey, Michael, I know we had a little argument yesterday but can you answer the phone? Pretty please??” and bat his eyelids. He groaned and rolled up his oil-covered sleeves, grabbing the nearest cloth like object and wiping off his hands.
William begrudgingly answered the phone with a slightly annoyed sounding “'Ello?”
“Mr. Afton! I'm sorry. I was trying to reach Michael.. we were supposed to hang out today,” the voice spoke through the speaker. It sounded very embarrassed to have called the wrong person.
“Who is this?”
“Oh! Umm.. It’s Jeremy, sir. Jeremy Fitzgerald?... Michael's.. best friend..?”
“Ah. Fitzgerald, yes. I remember… Michael is not available right now. He seems to.. have come down with a cold. He was complaining about.. cold rain and having to walk through it earlier.” William scrambled to come up with an excuse. This was the boy who was fond of his son? Now was the perfect chance to ruin whatever budding relationship they might've had.
“Actually, Johnny,”
“Jeremy.”
“Whatever. Let me see if Michael will be willing to take your call.”
William had the perfect plan, and it involved his newest prototype: the Hand Unit, now with built in voice synthesizer and voice capture abilities. Of course, William who was always plotting, and had recorded his argument with Michael the night before. He fiddled around with the buttons on the Hand Unit and switched it to the “angsty teen” setting - one he designed specifically to sound like Michael. Once he had it set up, he took his hand off of the receiver and made a test ‘hello?’
“Mike? Oh, thank God! I was worried you'd never pick up.” Jeremy's voice sounded through the speaker once again and William scowled at the relief he heard. Teenagers are so gullible these days.
“Jeremy?” William typed into the touchpad on the Hand Unit, amazed at his own handiwork and how clear it came out.
“Are you still able to come over today?”
William pressed a few more buttons, spewing out the first of the pre-recorded messages: “What are you talking about?”
“Don't you remember? You said you'd try to come over later today.”
William rolled his eyes and began flipping a few switches. It's now or never, I guess. He thought to himself as he searched through the messages for the real zinger: “Just.. leave me alone.”
“What..?”
“I'm not gay, alright! It was just some stupid dare. It didn't mean anything. Vanessa took the picture as a joke, okay? It's all one big fucking joke!” William’s lips moved into an evil smile as he awaited Jeremy’s response. This is more fun than I imagined. He thought to himself, giving him an imaginary pat on the back.
“Mike? You.. you don't mean that, right?” The hurt in the boy’s voice almost made William feel bad. Almost.
He had one final phrase to say and loaded it in as fast as he could: “Stop fucking calling me.”
Just as the Hand Unit finished the last sentence, it began to short out. William groaned in frustration and accidentally took his hand off the receiver, “Blasted thing. I thought I fixed that.” However, William did not realize that Jeremy very clearly heard that. William quickly hung up the phone and returned to his work, which now included fixing the Hand Unit.
Jeremy was a mixture of hurt and confused, had Michael actually said those things? And what was that strange thing Mr. Afton had said? “Blasted thing?” Something seemed fishy here, and he was going to figure out what happened.
Jeremy practically stormed out of his house, sprinting down the sidewalk as fast as his lanky build could carry him. By the time he arrived at the Afton’s doorstep, he was out of breath. He quickly knocked on the front door before hunching over to regain control of his breathing.
No answer. That's odd. They always answer on the first knock. Jeremy thought to himself. How else could he get in? And then it hit him; Michael's window. He grabbed a few pebbles (in case the window wasn't already open) and trekked around the side of the building.
Just his luck, the window was firmly shut. Jeremy selected a medium sized pebble, said a silent prayer that this glass was reinforced, and gently threw the pebble towards the small window. It landed against the glass with a small thump. Jeremy thanked whatever higher being that it hadn't shattered instantly
Seeing that there was no response to the first pebble, Jeremy picked up another and threw it much harder.
Michael glanced over at the sudden noise, just in time to see a small object land against his window. He pushed himself off the floor - wincing slightly as his injuries were still fresh (and had been left untreated). He shuffled over and glanced outside. Seeing that someone was outside (and actively throwing pebbles), Michael opened his window and tried to get a better look.
“Jeremy? What are you doing here?” Michael asked - confusion and a headache swarmed around his skull.
“Mike! I tried the front door but no one answered. I needed to talk to you in person.” Jeremy looked relieved when Michael had actually opened the doors. He placed down his handful of pebbles and began climbing in through the window.
Once he was inside, he dusted himself off and then finally looked at Michael.
“Oh.. Mike, what happened?” Jeremy walked over and gently grabbed Michael's chin, turning his head towards the light so he could better see the damage. The entire left side of Michael's face was swollen and slightly purple from the new bruising. Jeremy subconsciously ran his thumb over Michael's swollen lip, though he quickly moved his hand back when Michael flinched.
Jeremy took a closer look at the room and quickly noticed the large amount of broken glass that little Michael's bedroom floor.
“I'm fine, Jeremy. I.. tripped… into the bookshelf. And took a picture frame right to the face,” Michael quickly lied, even adding a chuckle to make it seem more accident like.
“We need to get you to a doctor, Michael. This could be seriously infected!” Jeremy moved back over to Michael and motioned to his injured face.
“No!” Michael snapped, then realized his tone and softened his words as he continued speaking, “No doctors. They'll.. they'll ask questions I'm not prepared to answer, okay? I'm fine.”
“Fine, but at least let me use a first aid kit, okay? I don't want there to be an infection,” Jeremy didn't even wait on a reply before fishing around in his bag full of necessary items, that he ALWAYS carried with him, and pulling out a small, travel sized first aid kit.
Jeremy sat down on Michael's bed and motioned for him to sit down as well. Michael obliged, though he was hesitant to let Jeremy doctor his wounds.
“By the way, Mike,” Jeremy began speaking in between Michael's winces as the cold antiseptic touched his face, “did you answer the phone earlier?”
“No..? I haven't left my room all day,” Michael shrugged and motioned to the state he was currently in, “Besides, Father banned me from using the phones.”
“Then.. who did I speak to earlier? It sounded just like you.. and you said some really mean things.” Jeremy's brow furrowed as he thought back to the earlier phone conversation.
Michael's eyes widened. Someone had spoken to Jeremy and pretended to be him? Not only that, but they apparently said something awful?
“If.. you don't mind me asking, what sort of things were said?” Michael asked, glancing up at Jeremy - who was still in deep thought.
“Well, first of all, you acted like you had no idea about our plans. Then, you started saying that.. that everything was just a joke and that you only did this because it was a dare. And that it meant nothing.. It really hurt to hear you say that,” Jeremy frowned, scanning Michael's face for any recognition for the words.
“Did the person say anything else?”
“Well, you said.. ‘stop fucking calling me’. And then the phone hung up.” Jeremy shrugged and searched his own memory for anything else that happened.
Michael's own expression was one of horror, he had recalled all of those things - but he distinctly remembered saying them to his father, not Jeremy.
“Jeremy, all those things.. They were part of an argument with my Father. He.. I was just trying to protect you. I didn't mean anything I said to him. I don't know how you heard it, but none of it was true,” Michael spoke softly, reaching over and gently squeezing Jeremy's hand.
“And that last part?”
“He kept calling me by my legal name - not Michael. The full context was ‘stop fucking calling me that'. I would never tell you to stop calling me.” Michael noticed how hurt Jeremy had seemed and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, “Please believe me, Jer. I'm sorry if my image was used to hurt you.”
Jeremy leaned into Michael's hand before placing his own on top of it. “I do believe you. But there was something else. Something weird.”
“What?”
“After the last sentence, it didn't instantly hang up. It sounded like wires shortcircuiting - oh, and I heard someone say ‘Blasted thing’,” Jeremy recalled, trying to give Michael as much detail as possible to help solve this mystery, “any ideas?”
Michael's expression dropped: he knew exactly what this was. “My father.”
Jeremy cocked his head to the side, clearly confused by this statement, “What do you mean by that?”
“My father. He's the one behind it. He.. he threatened that I would never be able to talk to you again. I.. I didn't know he'd do something like this, though.” Michael shook his head as the dots all seemed to connect in his brain.
Jeremy made another sort of ‘okay he's lost his mind’ gesture and his confusion continued to grow.
“Jeremy, he makes things. It's not impossible he could make something that captured the argument he and I had. What if.. what if he used that to try and dissuade you from.. from seeing me.” Michael placed his hand on Jeremy's shoulder and continued to gesture with his other. His eyes were wild as he realized just how far his father planned ahead. His breathing grew faster and his chest felt tight. How much had his father known? What else would he know?
Everything was too loud. Michael felt as if the walls were closing in around him. He began shaking once again. He didn't even seem to notice Jeremy calling his name. He was having an anxiety attack. Michael hadn't experienced one this bad since after his mother had passed away. Everything felt distant and like it was too close at the same time.
“Mike? Mike?” Jeremy's concerned voice couldn't reach him. “Michael?” The concern grew even louder.
Jeremy hesitated before placing his hands on both sides of Michael's face. “Mike, look at me. You're okay. It's okay.”
Michael remained frozen in place for a few more seconds until he felt the warmth of Jeremy’s hands against his cheeks. He slowly came back to reality, focusing on Jeremy's face instead of his overwhelming thoughts.
Jeremy stayed like that until Michael had calmed down enough to speak.
“I'm sorry for scaring you, Jer..” He trailed off, still worked up from the moments before.
Jeremy simply shook his head and wrapped his arms around Michael, pulling him as close as he could and hugging him as tightly as he dared - he was still unsure where else the injuries had spread and didn't want to harm Michael even more. Jeremy kept repeating “it's okay, you're okay” while gently rubbing his hand up and down Michael's back.
Michael sank into Jeremy’s arms and sniffled slightly. Jeremy placed a gentle kiss onto the top of Michael's hair.
“We’ll figure this out, Mike. Together.” Jeremy spoke before resting his chin on the top of his head. “We don't have to do anything right now, okay?”
Michael nodded and remained in this position until he completely calmed down.
“Jeremy, can we leave? Tonight? I don't want to be around him anymore.” Michael asked as he finally removed his head off of Jeremy's shoulder. He looked up at him hopefully, eagerly awaiting his response.
“Okay. If you want to,” Jeremy spoke, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind Michael's ear, “I'm sure my mom won't mind.”
So the two packed until Michael's room was completely empty. They carried as much as their backpacks could hold. Then they ran as fast as their legs could carry them. They ran until they were gasping for air.
The two of them soon arrived at the Fitzgerald household - where Mrs. Fitzgerald let them in without any questions. She was familiar with William's harsh parenting styles and knew that questions made Michael uncomfortable.
She quickly hugged Michael and agreed to let him stay as long as he wanted. Michael felt the burning of tears well up in his eyes. It's been a long time since he had a place where he felt wanted. It was quite nice.
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eyesoverinfinity · 6 months
Text
Life is a countdown that we can't see.
Keith x Dave ship fanfic, my first non-au fanfic, hope you enjoy!
(20 days until Savannah outbreak)
Keith was having a good day, the sun was shining, he just got out of the ER and he was going work with his boyfriend Dave and best friend Ellis.
Man, it was good to be-
He tripped over a tool box that he failed to see.
"Ah fuck."
Before he hit the floor, someone grabbed him.
"Come on man, ya just got out! don't knock yerself out AGAIN!" it was Ellis. His best bud.
He was wearing one of the twin hats they both had and the yellow shirt from their band, 'the Bullshifters'. Keith used to have one too, but made the mistake of wearing it the day he tried to make fire works. Keith smiled as Ellis got him back on his feet.
"Heh, sorry dude. Didn't see the toolbox."
"You need to pay attention man, Dave has been suggesting that we get ya eyes checked."
"Ellis the last thing I need is to go to more doctors."
"Are you sure? I think you'd look great with glasses." Another voice said from inside.
Keith turned to see David. His plain white, button up shirt and dark grey pants complementing his cherry red glasses that shone in the sun. Dave adjusted his glasses, allowing Keith to see his cornflower blue eyes as he smiled at him.
"How are you Keith?"
"Hey Dave, same old same old." Keith smiled as he stared lovingly into David's eyes as Dave stared back. He had missed this, if he could he would stay there forev-
"Keith and Dave? Earth to Keith and Dave? We got work to do!" Ellis chuckled.
Keith and Dave both stopped, both blushing furiously.
"Um, see you after work! Love you!" Dave spluttered, picking up his notepad and going back to accounting.
"Love you too!" Keith cried back as he rushed off to the car they'd be working on today.
"I should record you two doing that one of these days." Ellis grinned as he grabbed a replacement wheel for said car.
"Shut up." Keith sighed.
(15 days until Savannah outbreak)
The news said that Pennsylvania had been hit by a sickness called the "Green flu". Weird name in Keith's opinion, but hey he wasn't a...
"Darling?" Keith asked
"Yes mon cœur?" asked Dave
He loved it when Dave called him that.
"what do you call a... um... sickness scientist?"
"There's quite a few words for that, but in this case it would be an epidemiologist."
"Thanks" Keith said, kissing the top of Dave's head.
"Your welcome love."
The sun was coming through the window, illuminating the room. The light wasn't too bright, and Keith smiled as it hit the picture of his family that he had hung in the room.
"You think you should get out of bed?" Dave asked, not moving.
"Nah. it's too nice to go outside, I'd rather stay in here with you." Keith answered, "Besides, we always have tomorrow."
Then there was a pause.
"Wait, why only me?"
"Because today is the day you retake your driving test."
"FUCK!"
He rushed out of bed, getting dressed as the love of his life laughed good naturedly from under the covers.
(10 days until Savannah outbreak)
Not much more news had come from Pennsylvania. Keith felt that meant that things where calming down.
Dave thought otherwise.
But for now they were putting that beside them, It was Keith's little brother Steven's 10th birthday. and they tried to keep things like the eternal wet blanket that was mainstream news away from him.
They knocked on the door of Keith's childhood home. The door was opened by his older bother, Paul.
"Hey love-birds, How's things?"
"Not bad," Dave said "I've been studying for my final accountants exams and Keith has passed his driving test again."
"How many times do have to lose it before you aren't allowed to take it again?" Paul joked.
"I don't know man, I'll find the limit some day." Keith said.
They walked into the old wooden house, the paint was a light blue was covered by the pictures of friends, family and places. The floor was a polished oak at one point, but had been worn away with time. Windows from other rooms where lighting up the hallway, it was mostly empty as any tripping hazards were removed whenever Keith comes over.
He had missed his old home, not that he disliked living with his darling of course. But he couldn't help but remember the good times as he passed his now emptied room, that had become a study for their Dad, who was a doctor.
Ah, his room.
Somehow the room he never got injured in.
But that was in the past. Now, it was Steven's day.
They went out into the back yard. The grass was covered in confetti from before they got there, the tree's and chairs each had a a different coloured balloon. Keith knew that Steven's seat was the one with the purple balloon, as that was his favourite colour.
The table for the gifts was placed under the old plum tree. The adults where sat under there, talking about various adult things. The kids were over by the food table, on the other side of the yard.
Steven was with his friend's, they had made a fort around the table with a sign that said "fort food" with the 'r' around the wrong way.
Dave went to see the adults and put the present for Steven (a remote control car), on the table. Keith went to see Steven and add to the food pile.
"Halt!" Said a small voice, It was Steven's best friend Daisy. Her strawberry blond pigtails rested on her shoulder as her sapphire blue eyes stared out at him.
"Who dare approach? State your name 'n purpose!"
"My name is Keith, I come with Hershey's bars."
Keith heard the sound of children's voices from within the cardboard fort.
"You may enter! Open the gates!" Daisy said from behind the cardboard.
Keith had to get on his knees and shuffle in, but was met by foam swords.
"Congratulations! You are a prisoner!" Said Alexander, another one of Steven's friends.
"Oh no." Keith said. Trying to not smile.
"Oh yes!" said the red head boy, "Now you will see the king!"
Steven shuffled forward.
"I am the king!"
"Wow, hello king!"
"Hand over the chocolate!"
"I guess I have no choice."
He handed over the Hershey's bars and sat in the small handmade castle, watching happily as his little brother and their friends ate the 'ill gotten gains'. As he was put in 'prison' to be 'saved' by Paul later.
It was good to see his brothers again.
(8 days until Savannah outbreak)
His back still hurt from crouching in the cardboard fort from two days ago, but if he told Steven that he'd cry from guilt. He was sensitive like that, although he had began to become numb it Keith's many accidents like everyone else he knew.
"That's for the best" Keith thought to himself as he drove Steven to school. He didn't want his baby bro to be upset over things not in his control. Specially when it happens every other week.
"How you doing back there bouncy ball?" Keith asked, Steven rarely sat still, much like Keith. It looked like they also had ADHD like him, but he hadn't been diagnosed yet.
"Good." Steven says. He was kicking his legs in excitement. Unlike most people he liked Mondays because his favourite lesson was on. Drama.
Steven loved song and dance and plays. He liked watching old movies in his free time, (although he was too sensitive for their parents to let him watch anything sadder than a Disney movie because otherwise he'd be brought to tears) and he was good at acting.
The boy loved school. Unless it was math. That brought him to tears for a different reason. Keith could relate.
His little brother was jumping up and down in his seat.
"Hey, try not to do that in the car ok?" Keith said,
"Aww" was Steven's reply. Keith felt like a hypocrite for that, but it was better than him getting hurt.
"Remember what we say about me when I'm in charge?"
"Do as you say, not as you do."
"Correct!"
They pulled up at the school. God was he glad to not have to go there anymore.
"Have a good day Stevie!" Keith waved as he stopped the car to let Steven leave.
"Bye Keith!" Steven waved back as he ran to Daisy, who'd just been dropped off.
Now that Steven was gone, Keith turned on the news.
"The silence from Pennsylvania has spread throughout the country. as people start to question the government on the blackout of information from the quarantine zone, videos of people attacking each other have been leaked from personal satellite's. The borders to Mexico and Canada have been closed, as well as flights to other countries such as Australia, Britain and-"
Keith shut the radio off.
While Dave listened to the news like it was a life line, it made Keith feel like he was drowning. If you paid attention to every bad thing the news talked about you'd think the world was about to end.
He stopped at the empty road, no one was coming from any side. The anxiety of what was happening in other cities with the green flu lead to quite a few people staying home. Of course while a lot of people in this city would likely be walking around even if it was illegal, the number of those who stayed inside was enough to mess with the normal traffic flow.
it didn't help that the news of the green flu and the following riots were scaring off tourists.
It would be REALLY easy to go through that red light. Keith delved into his pocket. Dave had left a note for when he had thoughts like this. He pulled out the small note, upon it read.
"NO. love Dave <3"
Keith sighed.
"The things I do for love."
(4 days until Savannah outbreak)
"You look amazing darling!" Keith assured
"Are you sure?" Dave asked, he was wearing a pale red suit to go to the Savannah counsel meeting.
"Of course! Even if you didn't, which is quite a feat for you by the way, those guys love you."
"Can't say the same for them" Dave muttered.
The majority of the Savannah council were racist.
Dave had originally not wanted to join, but eventually did to help weed out the old men who really had no business being there. (without murder)
The meeting was about how to deal with the approaching Green Flu and the rumours surrounding it. The news was all over the place with what was happening in the quarantine zone, with different stations saying different things about the lethality of the green flu and how it spreads, even what it did to someone once infected. CEDA denying a lot of things didn't help either.
Something the news agreed is that the 'flu', which many were claiming it wasn't one but something far worse, was spreading at an terrifying rate and that the government was organising evacuations for many major cities.
Including Savannah.
Dave and the rest of the council was going to organise with CEDA agents where to put the evacuation points, how many helicopters are needed to evacuate people, etc, to help as many people as possible.
"You'll be great Dave." Keith said, gently pressing his forehead against Dave's.
Dave smiled nervously, "Thanks Keith."
They both kissed and Dave left.
Watching him drive away into the centre of the city, Keith was called by Ellis.
"Hey man, how's things?"
"Hey Keith, Dave's gone to the meeting right?"
"Yeah he just left."
"Man, I wanted to wish him luck."
"You can call him when he gets back." Keith shrugged.
"I can't believe that the government's making us leave!" Ellis complained. None of them had ever liked the government and institutes of power in general, for a wide range of reasons. But this was a time that Keith was forced to say:
"It's better than the alternative. You wanna get stuck in Twilight zone?"
That's what people on the street called the quarantine area. On account of no one knowing jack shit about whets going on in it and the info that has slipped threw the cracks was vague and ominous.
"Maybe if they TOLD us what we were running from I'd agree with ya. But Ma's already out of town visiting family in Alaska, I don't wanna leave all our shit alone." "I'll come over and help you hide your stuff under the floor boards tomorrow if it makes you feel better."
"That'd be great, thanks man."
"Anytime."
"I'ma get back to ya later, I'm working on the apocalypse-proof truck." "Alright. Have fun!"
Ellis hung up. Leaving Keith to look into a sky where the city lights choked out stars.
(1 day until Savannah outbreak)
Keith had volunteered to help escort/herd people into the whirly birds. His family was evacuating from Steven's school and had suggested that he come too. But Keith wanted to make sure as many people got out as possible.
There were a lot of zones and from the looks of it the whole thing was a rushed mess. Course he would know, Dave spent an hour crying over how bad it turned out.
"They put one on a hotel that had thirty flights of stairs, THIRTY!" His lover had cried into his arms. "They didn't even have wheel chair access!"
The good news was a lot of people were volunteering to help others. Granted it wasn't an overwhelming amount. The line up was about 10 people including him, but that's was because most people assumed that CEDA could take care of everything.
Keith didn't trust the organisation of something this big left only to CEDA. Especially after Dave crying into his arms about how badly the meeting had gone. Not that it was only CEDA's fault, from what Keith could gather the Savannah council had been unwilling to let people land whirly birds in Forsyth park because "That would ruin the lawn." but allowed places like the previously mentioned 30 fleets of stairs hotel. Some poor souls would be left for dead there because of how long it'd take to get there, he knew it.
The whole thing was a mess and Keith just wanted to make sure everyone possible could make it out safe.
The line reached him.
"Name?" asked the man in front of him.
"Keith Murphy"
"Volunteer or emergency evac?" emergency evac was registering for the priority list. being disabled, immunocompromised, ect.
"Volunteer." Keith answered
"Oh thank god." whispered the man, that was not the reaction Keith had been expecting.
"Ok, you will be evacuating people on evac zone 18, in the business district. You need to be there by 8:00am and be ready to deal with possible unrest. Can you do that?"
"Yes sir."
The man sighed in relief. "Your a life saver kid, there's barley enough CEDA agents to man every station as it is.... You didn't hear that from me." He quickly added.
Keith shrugged, to say the truth he already knew, he had told his family but they all decided that it would be quicker to leave on a chopper than on the roads, as they would undoubtably get blocked with traffic, or at least that's what Paul said. Ellis said that his truck should get threw anything and Keith was inclined to agree.
After signing some forms the man gave him the address of the evac and said to be and Keith left. The card also said an email would tell him of any other volunteers that would be paired with him.
No email came.
(8:00 hrs until Savannah is overrun)
Keith thought back to yesterday, when he had been tasked with evacuating people in the business district.
"God that was a mistake." He thought to himself.
Not that he didn't want to help people. But two people that came to this evac zone didn't understand the concept of a line or sharing.
"I'm getting on!"
"No I am!"
"There's enough space for everyone." The CEDA agent he was paired with assured. "Please remain calm." She slowly moved them to the edge of the building to stop them from blocking the line.
Keith was busy leading people who WEREN'T fighting to get on one of the five large choppers, into said choppers. As the two old people, who looked like two CEO's of rival business, yelled their heads off not to get on, but seemingly so the other gets left behind.
It reminded him of customer service on black Friday and had he been the more vengeful type he'd may of been tempted to leave them both here just for reminding him of that dark time.
But that wasn't his style. He was a live and let live kind of person. Although that didn't mean he'd go out of his way to save someone who wanted someone else dead when innocent people where right in front of him.
So he shook his head and lead the next lot of people in.
(6:00 hrs)
The last chopper was almost full and the two CEOs were. Still. arguing.
Keith wondered if they even noticed that there was a world around them anymore, they were so consumed in their hatred that they didn't notice it.
They didn't notice the other helicopters leaving.
They didn't notice buildings in the distance catch fire.
They didn't notice the sounds of destruction on the streets coming steadily closer.
While the home Keith had grown up in was burning to the ground because of the unknown, those two continued with some petty feud.
They had been auguring for so long the CEDA agent had seemed to give up on evacuating them. Keith wasn't even sure the two would notice if they leave.
But by god, if he did indeed exist, Keith couldn't leave without TRYING to get them to look around and smell the burning reality. He sighed to himself, internally knowing this likely wasn't worth it. Either they'd both get on, or neither of them would.
"Hey, guys?" Keith tried to get their attention.
There was no change in the two.
"You two! The last chopper is leaving! You want on or not?"
One of them got louder and, was the other one growling?
"Um... Guys?"
The one that was growling tackled the other off the top of the building.
It happed so fast Keith didn't have time to react. He stood there for a good few seconds trying to figure out how or why that happened. They were mad, this world had gone mad.
They ran back to the chopper, just as the CEDA agent got on, and closed the door behind them.
"Were are the other two?" The agent asked
"One of them tackled the other off the building! I don't know what happened!"
"Where you close to them?" she asked immediately.
"Wh- No. I was still about 8 feet from them."
"Ok. Pilot! Get us out of here!"
That conversion was... over oddly quickly. Keith's gut told him that something wasn't right, not a common occurrence but never wrong when it's come up before.
But he didn't even know where to start talking about what just happened, and with the CEDA agent going to check on the others in the chopper he didn't feel it was the time.
He turned to the window slits to look at his hometown.
Keith had always loved fire, even if fire loved him a bit too much. So there was an odd beauty to seeing the world burn.
"How had it come to this?" Keith thought in melancholy. "The movies taught us it takes 28 days for the world to go to hell.... I guess they were a week off."
He sighed aloud, there was nothing for it now... God he hated feeling so responsible.
He looked to the street, unable to see anyone still left. from the traffic it looked like people had abandoned their cars to get away. He looked closer in a morbid curiosity.
Then he saw something, something big.
It was a fleshy, sunburnt thing, towering over the car's around it. Keith would of thought that he had hallucinated it due to stress if a women next to him hadn't screamed and pointed out the troll like creature.
(5:00 hrs)
The massive, horrid thing ripped the road out of the ground and threw the heap of rock straight at them.
The pilot tried his best to get out of the way, but there was not enough time to avoid the bolder in the first place. The tail was ripped of the rest of the vehicle like paper.
The impact almost made Keith fall out then and there. The rubble from parts of the asphalt covered him and would of filled his lungs if he hadn't stopped breathing from the shock.
"Mayday! Mayday!" The pilot said as they plummeted to the earth, Keith barely heard him over the screams of the others, he was so fuelled with panic couldn't hear if he was screaming too.
The chopper hit the ground.
.
.
.
.
.
.
(1:00 hr)
Keith woke up in pain. Not a rare occurrence to be fair, but this was a rare time that he woken up not on a bed.
He took note of where he could feel, all of his limbs felt terrible, but they moved when he told him too. So that was good. He turned his head, seeing human hand stick out from-
'Nope. Can't deal with that right now.' Keith's mind went as he turned his head the other way. 'Focus on you.'
He slowly got up, apart from the initial pain, there didn't seem to be anything he couldn't heal from. He felt a buzzing in his front pocket, his phone by some miracle had not been decimated by the crash.
He answered the phone.
"Hello?"
(00:60)
"Keith?!" Dave exclaimed from the other end. "Where are you?! I've been calling you for at least 3 hours now!"
"My whirly bird crashed! It was hit by.- God I don't even know, some huge fucking thing threw a slab of concrete at it! I survived the crash but I don't think anyone else did. I've been out that whole time."
(00:55)
"That's... Oh god that was your helicopter?! I saw that go down!"
"Where are you?"
"In a different one! I have Steven with me."
Oh thank God, was all Keith could think.
(00:50)
"Do you know where Paul and my parents are?"
"No, Last time I checked they were headed for evac with my family."
"And Ellis?"
"I don't know. Said something about his own way out?"
"Stay with Steve. I'll find a different evac point."
(00:40)
"Don't go t҉o҉ t҉h҉e҉ m҉a҉l҉l҉"
"What?"
"Don't go to the mall! I can see it being overrun from here!"
Keith didn't know what Dave meant by that, but he didn't have time to ask.
He realised Dave had said something.
"Dave you're breaking up"
"Steven wants to talk to you."
"Put him on"
(00:30)
"Keith?" said a shaky voice, it hurt his heart just to hear the boy like that.
"Hey Bouncy ball."
"Are you going to be ok?" This made Keith stop, he was never this direct.
"Of course! It's me after all! I always turn out ok!"
"Promise?" Steven sounded close to tears.
"I promise." Keith said. He knew he couldn't stay on for long "Stay with Dave, he'll look after you."
He heard a noise that sounded like a yes.
(00:20)
"OK, I'm going to find my way to you and everything will be fine ok?"
"And you won't let the monsters get you?"
"Nah, No monster could get me!"
His body had turned ice cold, he didn't know what was going on, but he didn't like what he was seeing when he looked between the lines.
But what could he do? He wanted to go look for the rest of his family, but that could lead to him getting into more danger. They could take care of themselves, Keith decided. They were smart people.
He breathed out, then spoke into the phone.
(00:10)
"I love you, ok Steven?" Keith said, knowing those could be his last words to him.
(00:09)
"I love y-" The phone cut out before Steven could finish. Keith quickly checked his phone, The battery was fine, but the connection had ceased to work.
(00:08)
He heard a noise, a scream from down the road.
(00:07)
He turned to look for the source of the voice, to see if he could help.
(00:06)
But the scream was swallowed up by a choirs of maddened roars
(00:05)
As he saw what could only be described as a title wave, Keith saw too late what Dave and Steven had meant.
(00:04)
Now all he could do was run.
(00:03)
He turned to do so,
(00:02)
But found the other side had a similar storm of bodies.
(00:01)
He braced himself, the hoard was upon him.
(00:00)
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obsidiancreates · 1 year
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Random Into The Neon Rambles (Angsty 2012 Universe Stuff. I mean seriously sad, I cried writing it.)
So I've had the WORST brain fog lately (we keep intending to get a Covid test but it's been over a week and a half now since my breathing became like Just Swam Up From The Bottom Of The Pool But That All The Time and it still hasn't happened yet so IDK at this point, it's dependent on the cleaning schedules) and haven't been able to write SHIT so here's some completely word-vomit rambles about this AU.
April and Casey are still alive in the 2012 universe, but of course the boys died at 19 and I headcanon that they turned 19 in Season 4 and were 19 through all of Season 5 so that means Splinter is dead. The Mutanimals actually moved into the lair and take very good care of it, they set up a memorial to the boys right beside the one for Splinter. April and Casey see them often, Leatherhead took over the main care of Ice Cream Kitty, and they're all trying to get by. April's dad has his hands full these days, trying to be a grief counselor for all of them, and it's difficult because it's not his specialty. At this point he's always on the lookout for therapists and psychiatrists who are either mutant-friendly or, more ideally, mutants themselves.
There's actually quite a bit of focus now on finding and helping other mutants. The reason for the boys deaths was kind of the last Big Thing to happen, so there's not a lot of combat to do in the years following. The occasional alien issue, but April has been practicing and growing her powers with a focus that Casey likes to think is her way of honoring the turtles, specifically Leo and Donnie really, and The Mutanimals have been too.
The boys were alone together when they died. Partly by their own design, making sure no-one else got hurt... or worse.
They knew there was a strong chance they wouldn't make it out this time.
So Earth is well-protected by a powerful, grieving telekenetic/psychic/empath/ninja/general badass alongside a group of kick-ass mutant, a grieving Salamadarian soldier who keeps Raph's mask on her whenever she patrols, a grieving basically-son who's like 10 feet tall and can crush practically any enemy with his mace, a grieving best friend who's determined to carry both Mikey's kindness and ferocity with him always, a grieving teen who just lost some of the first people to truly help him after being kicked out for his mutation, and of course, a grieving big sister who lost her brothers the same way she lost her father and mother: before she could truly know them.
Yes, Karai knew the boys for a few years. But she never knew them outside of War. She never knew them in casual settings, she never even thought to try when they were alive. Now not only are they gone, but the last people who knew her father are, too. April tries to share stories of Splinter, but she can't tell Karai what he was like on birthdays. She can't tell her what he was like as a father, not just to teens, but through childhoods. Karai lost the last of her family before she could even fully appreciate finding them. She's trying, now. She helps a lot with the efforts to find and help mutants who have nowhere else to go. She takes a lot of them into her reformed Foot Clan, trains them to be able to defend themselves, and uses the vast network of international resources for anything that can help. She does it in remembrance of her father, who raised four little mutants as his sons, and those four sons, who accepted her and loved her even after she did horrible things to them more than once, who showed her there was a way beyond The Shredder's and helped her to be free of him.
April tries to find them sometimes. She never learned that kind of thing from Splinter, and her powers actually make it harder to connect to the spirit world sometimes. It's a different energy, one she isn't used to, and she has no teacher. She's felt, at most, a comforting presence, the faintest tough of a familiar paw, but nothing from the boys themselves. She can only hope that Splinter's assurance means they're okay, wherever they are in the universe.
Ice Cream Kitty was very confused for a while. She would yowl and yowl for Mikey. She would climb out of the freezer and drag herself to his room to look for him. At some point they put Mikey's mask in there with her, and a few of his comics. It helped.
They could all tell when she understood. That day, instead of finding her in his room after she escaped, she dragged herself to April in the dojo and meowed sadly until April held her. April cried. Ice Cream Kitty didn't make a peep. April felt the sadness of the kitty more strongly than the cold or stickiness of the ice cream in her arms.
It's been less time for them. The boys are 10 at this point in Into The Neon, for them it's been half the time. 5 years. April is in college, community college. She's not sure what she wants to go into. She thought biomedical for a while, but she kept wanting to ask Donnie for help when she got stuck.
She dropped the class.
Casey is mostly working with The Mutanimals. Leatherhead actually keeps trying to get him to take a break from it, concerned about how much he throws himself into battle. Casey is working on it. He had a breakthrough recently. He has Survivor's Guilt. The boys told him and April to go and convince any stragglers to evacuate, and they did. He wished he'd stayed. He knows he couldn't have stopped what happened, but his last interaction with any of them was a quick nod and a 'Got it.'
He believed they'd come back. Really. He knows April didn't, and tried to assure her. "Those guys are unkillable," he'd said. "If space aliens and Super Shredders couldn't get them, nothin' can!"
He remembers falling to his knees when they came back to the wreckage and saying "Just had to prove me wrong, didn't you?" It was the hollowest he'd ever felt, and he doesn't really remember the words like they came from him. He just remembers hearing them in his voice, distant and far away while he waited for someone to move, cough, shout at him to help them up already, anything.
They were buried on the farm, of course, next to their father. Doctor Cluckingsworth actually protects the graves from the other chickens, and when the others come to visit she usually comes by with some flowers she picked for them. She really only knew Mikey very well, but Mikey loved his brothers, and she remembers that.
The worst part was how peaceful everything became after. April was so angry that they didn't get to see it. That she's living in a world where, slowly, mutants are more able to be known and exist, where there's not a constant threat, where there's chances for harmless fun and just being happy, and they can't be there for it. When they announced a live-action reboot of Crognard she blew up the TV without even meaning to. She just saw it and thought 'I gotta tell Mikey' and then it was obliterated and she was sobbing in her dad's arms.
Casey actually does have something he's considering. He's been the one trying to keep the old vehicles in shape, and he thinks maybe he could be a mechanic or some kind of engineer. He thinks Donnie would laugh about the engineer thing because of all the math that takes, but he's gotten better at it. He has to use Donnie's old blueprints a lot to make sure he's not breaking The Shellraizer or The Party Wagon or the go-karts or anything else while trying to repair it, and you can't really pour over Donnie's stuff and work on the same things without absorbing a little. He's not a whiz by any means, can't do even a quarter what Donnie could, but they work together well. He remembers that every time he repairs a new hole Slash made by accident, or something Mondo accidentally ripped our with his tail while skating past, or anything like that. He remembers working on the hot rod in the barn with Donnie and wishes they made more wild things with each other instead of fighting all the time. He liked that Donnie matched his energy, could go toe-to-toe with him, that they could get into awful fights and rip each other apart verbally and it didn't really matter to either of them. He liked Raph for the same reason. And he liked Leo because he seemed all calm and cool but you could stoke a real fire out of him, and he liked Mikey for a similar reason-
He cries a lot while he's doing these repairs. It's a safe place to do it, and if any of the others have noticed (they have) they don't mention it. They never interrupt him, though he knows April is keeping a psychic eye on him most of the time. Whatever. He's keeping a (regular) eye on her all the time too. At least when he cries over their lost friends, it doesn't have a chance of rattling half the city like they're sitting on a fault line.
Chompy still refuses to fall asleep unless Mona is holding him and she has Raph's mask out. Chompy snuggled his face against it. Slash watches him when Mona can't, because for a while they were deeply worried about the little guy. He was depressed without Raph, and he got sick. It took a lot of patience and care to get him to the other side of that, and the two of them basically made it their whole purpose in life to keep Chompy going. For Raph.
Everyone's trying their best, all for the sake of the boys. For their memories.
They're having a hard time of it.
But they're trying.
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All roads lead to you. —BoruSara.
Hello, it's been years since i wrote anything borusara related but i've been in the mood lately and wanted to get this out of my system. Enjoy my small drabble and i may write more in the future. ♥️
Boruto and Sarada had a silent agreement.
No cheesy love confesions, no big romantic scenes were needed between them, their bond slowly developed through the years from childhood friends to rivals to teammates, they basically trusted each other with their lives. Just one look was enough to understand what the other was saying or feeling, that's how close they were.
Hence why they never needed all the fireworks and flying to the moon to know their hearts were one. Besides, they were fighting literal gods and avoiding death and destruction since they were 13, the day didn't have enough hours to spare sometime and go on a date like any other people in love do, so they realized about the depth of their feelings at a very slow pace.
They've been together since babies, both very used to each presence as they were used to see the sun in the sky everyday.
People may wonder when everything changed, that's an easy answer, Boruto could say, after the Momoshiki invasion, when he realized his life goal was to support Sarada as a Hokage and protect her. Of course, he wanted to be like Sasuke, a free spirit roaming around but always helping the village on his own way, however, that would be meaningless if the person in charge wasn't Sarada.
He has witnessed her determination to achieve her goals, all her efforts and late night training sessions just because she felt she didn't give her 100% that day. She has helped him too, as a shoulder to lean on, someone to put him back on track if he got distracted.
He knew Sarada wanted him to be the best version of himself and that's why she called him out whenever he acted reckless, and although they often fought because of that, he knew it was coming from worry.
He had plenty of time to think about what Sarada meant to him the years they were separated, when Boruto left to train and control the new powers he had, but honestly, there wasn't much thinking needed when she was always his priority, heck, 13 year old Boruto knew he wanted to be with her as her support but it took him to be apart and miss her to understand he just didn't want to be a right hand man because she was her teammate and closest friend.
When he thought about his future all he could see was seeing Sarada everyday and bringing her lunch to the Hokage office because he would be damned if he allowed her to develop the same unhealthy habits of his old man, no sir, he was ready to prepare lunch for her everyday and make sure she rested well and was happy. You see, it is not normal to have these thoughts for your just friend, even if he was Mr. Oblivious he wasn't stupid.
Love is not an easy topic and he thought he should be more scared and worried about falling for her best friend, but that wasn't the case.
Falling in love with Sarada felt right, natural, as if it was always meant to be and he wouldn't want to fall for anyone else. A small voice in his head asked the important question "what if she doesn't love me back?", Boruto decided to brush it off and just wait to meet her again.
All those worries went away the moment he laid his eyes on her at the village gates. She waited for him all those years holding in her hand the small bolt necklace he gave her as a promise to see each other again, and the look she gave him was what gave her away. Midnight eyes full of sparkling stars and longing, but the only thing she said was "Welcome home".
He nodded and closed the distance between them with a warm hug whispering on her ear "I'm home now". It was crystal clear, the beating of their hearts matched as much as their souls.
Boruto's POV is so fun to write, lots of Sarada in that blondish head. Should i write my vision of Sarada's pov next? We'll see.
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doggoboigaugau · 1 year
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CW: this is a vent post. it actually doesn't really mention anything too upsetting but it's very personal and will be long so I guess some won't want to bear that.
Yall is 'brother issues' a thing lmao bc the guy i've been talking about keeps making me feel that way 😔😔😔😔
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OK so the first thing is the reason why i opt for brother issues rather than daddy issues is because i see him as a big brother, not a dad or anything. And i also don't feel anything romantic or sexual towards him, like in the other post, i only feel (and crave) family-like affection from him.
I guess it's partly because i dont have a big brother or an older male cousin, and during my childhood no one really considered me a boy, so i have always been craving to have a cool big brother or an uncle who will treat me as the boy i am and show me simple acts of affection that men often do to their younger male family members, like hugging shoulders, ruffling hair, sth like that...
It's so nice here when i grew up and escaped from that stupid homophobic and transphobic where i spent my whole childhood and secondary school years and studied in a place where i meet people who respect my identity and really see me as a boy. Including him. And it's not common for me to be closer than a mere acquaintance to a man who is older than me (most of my friends are my age or younger), so being with him makes me have feelings. Like i wanna be important to him so fucking bad.
The "he" in the two pics above is a new close friend of mine. We met in a language class where "he" is the student and im the teaching assistance, and tbh "he" brought me to hella places like bars and pubs and stuff where i had one of the newest and most exciting experiences of my life. "He" is also the person who helps me and the guy i have brother issues about to get closer like we're now. But i feel like the only reason why that guy gets closer to me is just because of "him", bc everything we talk about is related to "him" lmao (besides work ofc).
Earlier this evening, the guy called me out to have a talk, and he told me the exactly things i wrote in the pics above. The feelings i had that moment sucked so bad. I feel jealous over one of my best friends for having an older man considering "him" as a younger brother, i feel like a loser for having such a feeling.
I mean he cared for "him" so fucking much that it's so fucking obvious. And given that one of the main reasons we're best friends is because of out similar family background: we all have sth with dads--"his" biological dad left "him" and "his" mom when "he" was a small child while mine passed away kinda early (my dad was a very great man, but bc of his early passing away i kinda felt-- u know what i meant), we both have to try to work to earn money and support ourselves, and we always care for (and sometimes it even reaches 'stressing over') our moms and sisters. So when that guy told me he wants to help and care for my friend as much as he can bc of "his" family background, i just feel jealous so bad, and i hate myself so much for that yk. Watching someone having the things that u'll never have. im supposed to feel happy for my friend for meeting such a great man, and tbh i do, but still i cannot help feeling jealous and i fucking despise myself for that.
I'm not the luckiest person with romantic love (in fact, my love life is just a pile of mess) and i've kinda given up on finding someone who really loves me lmao... and now even this i can't have. I feel like i'll have to take care of myself forever🥲🥲🥲🥲 like having no one to care for you like that guy with my best friend... It's like i'll never have what i wanna have and it's my fucking fate to keep watching other people having what i desire. All my life i've just been standing in a distance and watching people having those of things, having a big brother, having a close-knit friend group, having a healthy romantic love,... fuck it sucks so bad i hate my life lmao
I never plan to grow old 💀👍 like i'll die (kms) as soon as i think my job here on earth in this life is over 💀💀💀
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mermaidsirennikita · 6 days
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ARC Review: Earls Trip by Jenny Holiday
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3.5/5. Releases 4/23/2024.
Heat Index: 5/10
Vibes: romcom shenanigans, childhood friends to lovers, positive male friendships, vacations
Archie (earl), Simon (earl), and Effie (future earl) have been friends since they were young boys. And they have a tradition--Earls Trip, where they spend time together, relax, and have fun. But this year's trip gets diverted when a letter arrives, begging him to rescue his childhood friend Olive from an ill-advised elopement. Oh, and Olive's sister Clementine ran after Olive, so can he rescue her too? The trip is no longer just the earls, but a pair of girls; and Archie finds himself drawn to the grown-up Clementine, who's gone from his wild young friend to a blunt woman who refuses to marry.
As we all know, historical accuracy is not my biggest priority with historical romances. Is this book very concerned with history? Not at all. Is it a frothy, funny little story about a bunch of hapless lords dealing with ladies just CRASHING their PARTY. Yes.
Could it have been a lot more? I do think so.
I feel like this premise could've gone a lot further, and based on that and the cover (which I actually find rather cute and befitting the book, despite my general dislike of cartoon covers) I thought we'd get roadtrip romance vibes that we just didn't. In fact, while Archie and Clementine had chemistry, and their romance was cute, I think we should've leaned into the romance part a good bit sooner.
Quick Takes:
--Jenny Holiday has a really approachable, naturally funny writing style, and that's on full display here. I think it best serves the earls (well, the earls and the viscount). Their relationship was my favorite part of the book, and I don't necessarily think that's surprising or a bad thing. I love a romance, especially a historical romance, where the heroes are like "that's my brother. THAT'S MY BROTHER" [tearful manly hug].
This actually takes it a step further. Archie, Simon, and Effie are supportive and openly loving. They confide in each other. They bare their hearts to each other. Like, they have their little quirks and none of them are perfect creatures without flaw. They're funny and human. I just think these kind of friendships between men are so uncommon in fiction that it's just refreshing to see.
--You do have hijinx, right? You have an errant bullet early in the book (nobody is seriously injured--I think this is the second heroine I've read shoot the hero by accident this year?), you have phallic hedges, you have poetic drama. But while I by no means expected a Hangover-esque orgiastic trip from what was clearly a romcom.....
I don't know. Not a lot happened on the trip. Like, I get that it was supposed to be dudely bonding, but I didn't really see them... doing much... besides companionably hanging out? And I think you need more than that. I mean, there's some plot, but the pacing of the book just kind of made it feel less.
--I also think the pacing could've used some work. The official summary mentioned that Clementine asked Archie to teach her about sex, and he does... But like, in the back half of the book. It's not a big thing. It doesn't kick off the PLOT.
And I think that if it had, there would've been a lot more urgency to the story. I kind of felt like the book pulled a big "hurry up and wait".
The Sex:
So, the sex does something interesting. Again, it's kind of at odds with the description. There are a few scenes, and none of them go super far. Like, pleasure is had, but I kind of felt like the story was building up to a big wedding night scene and it... doesn't happen.
That said, I did appreciate that Clementine wasn't a virgin; she just hadn't had good sex. Archie is really sweet and weirdly friend-like during these scenes, but he's also BARELY keeping it together. One of my favorite moments of the book is when he demonstrates the "tools" men can use to give women pleasure. I just wish we'd have more of that, or at least had it earlier in the story.
While this installment wasn't a home run for me, it was fun, and I think there's potential for the series. I want to know what happens to Simon and Effie. That's half the battle, right?
Thanks to NetGalley and Kensington for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
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