#me: let's give you a new haircut and outfit. as a treat. :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

damn-stark · 3 years

Text

Survivor

Chapter 5 of Cherry

A/N: I really hope you guys like this and I promise there will be more Reiner and rc interactions ;)

Warning- Angst, SLOWBURN, Violence, LONG CHAPTER! Talks of death and blood.

Pairing- Jean Kirstein x reader, Reiner Braun x reader

Episodes- 1x17

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“Squad I’d like to present you to Cherry,” Levi introduces you to his own squad who quietly watch you with eyes filled with curiosity.

“It’s y/n,” you correct him through gritted teeth, as a happy smile spreads on your lips while you finally had the honor to meet the squad he had spoken about in his letters.

“It’s the same thing,” he remarks nonchalantly.

“Not really, because one is my actual name and the other—”

“Y/N? You’re alive!” You hear a voice exclaim before your eyes wander to the entrance of the room where you notice Eren walking in with his eyes wide and filled with a surprise and a bit of joy.

“Eren!” You exclaim happily, “you’re okay, right?”

Said boy walks over to you and nods to answer your concern filled question. “Yeah, I’m alright, are you? Are the rest of our friends?”

You hesitate at the sound of his question, feeling your smile falter at the memory of one friend who wasn’t so lucky to have made it. Eren doesn’t catch your fault though, his green eyes remain filled with concern whilst he waits for your answer that never came as Levi interrupted you. “Cherry, listen.”

You tear your eyes away from Eren and focus on Levi and nod, “right,” before you look back to the four members of his special operations squad. “I’m y/n.”

Levi eyes roll to you and then slide to his squad members, not giving them any kind of audible signal before they all begin to introduce themselves, starting with a tall blonde man that had his hair picked up and sported a goatee on his chin. “I’m Eld Gin.”

“I’m Gunther Schultz,” A dark haired man said right after, pulling your attention to him and letting you recognize that some of these members looked familiar, you probably had seen them before but you weren’t sure now. There were too many soldiers to keep track of, you only talked to the ones you saw the most.

“Hi, I’m Petra Rall,” the only woman in his squad spoke not so long after, offering you a small smile that you returned before your eyes landed on one last man with his light brown hair styled in a nice undercut haircut. One you couldn’t help but notice off the bat appeared a bit odd to you...appearance wise anyways—“Oruo Bozad.” He said nonchalantly with his arms crossed over his chest.

Slowly you tear your gaze away from him and give all the members one last look before you look at Levi beside you. “And of course,” he continued, “you know Eren.”

You nod and a grin slowly spreads on your lips as you solely look at Levi and grab his arm to ask one last thing excitedly. “So does this mean I can join, Levi squad?!”

“Yeah, can she?” Eren asks after you in a more hopeful tone. Perhaps because he was hopeful he’d have someone his age in the squad. But that wouldn't be the case.

Levi’s blue eyes shift to you and his eyes narrow before he shakes his head. “No. But you can earn your spot like they did and then we can talk.”

“Tsk.” You pull your hands away from his arm and sigh in disappointment.

“But,” he added as he unfolded his arms and shoved his hand in his pocket to pull out a folded parchment paper. “Here. It’s for you.” He says in a mischievous tone that you only caught as you took the paper and he began to walk out of the room. “I’ll give you a few minutes to talk to them before you have to rejoin the recruits.”

Before you could try to input something concerning the paper, or the fact that your friends were taking a tour of the grounds that you knew by heart, Levi leaves the room with all eyes on the paper he had given you. “Open it,” Eren points to the paper in your hand. You look down at it and think for a moment, before you pout at the realization of what he had given you so publicly.

“Why don’t you?” You sigh, as you hand him the paper and sit back in a chair to rest your chin on your hand as you prop your elbow on the table beside you.

Erens green eyes lifted from the paper in his hand to look at you with his eyebrows pinched together and his fingers under the fold. “Are you sure?”

“Knock yourself out,” you mutter bitterly, noticing the rest of the squad all had knowing smirks on their faces as Erens curiosity got the best of him. Like you, they knew that the paper didn’t contain anything worthwhile, Eren on the other hand still was getting to know who Levi truly was and expected to read something juicy. But as he unfolded on the paper, and his eyes scanned the inside, his eyes lost their spark, and his smile fell. He slowly lowered his hand and turned to look at you with his face twisted.

“It’s a chores list?”

“Yeah,” you groan as you drop your head to the table's surface. “I knew it. Ughh…”

“It says,” Eren interjects, “you can help the Levi Squad with their chores.”

“Stab my leg won’t you?” You grumble to the wooden table, hearing a few of the other members snicker, whilst Eren still had the need to remark to you.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?”

“What was she going to tell you, Eren?” You hear one of the guy members ask him in a playful tone, “that our captain was a clean freak? It would have ruined the illusion and his reputation.”

You pick up your head only far enough so you could peek one eye out, noticing that it had been Eld who had just commented that. “Plus, it’s always funny seeing the newcomers realize that Levi isn’t just Humanity’s greatest soldier.” You snicker, making everyone laugh and nod in agreement. “And you thought I was a clean freak before,” you smirk, “you hadn’t met him yet...you’re still getting to know him.” You fully lift your head to see him with both eyes, barely catching as Eren throws your chores list back to you with a look of disappointment expressed all over his face. “I hope he’s been treating you well.”

“Well he still has me sleeping down in the basement,”

Eren comments bitterly, “but I mean, I understand why he would. Besides that he isn’t bad.”

“Good,” you say before your attention gets suddenly interrupted by Oruo.

“Say kid, where is it the Captain got you from? Are you really his kid?”

“Uh,” you voice, catching his comrade Petra shaking her head at his comment while the others just sigh before you continue unsurely and confused. “He got me from his doorstep?” You blink a few times and notice he seemed to be deep in thought. “Levi is not my actual father...he—” you abruptly cut yourself off as your eyes refocus on the way his hair was styled in an undercut, the way he kept his face so nonchalant and had a similar cravat to Levi’s. You also couldn’t help but notice the way he stood and tried to keep his posture, his voice also began to echo in your mind and you couldn’t help but pick out the similarity there too. It was all something that made you slowly grin.

“...I see now,” you comment to him smugly, whilst your eyes scanned his outfit and lifted back on his face. “Your cravat is a shade off. And,” you pause to stand up and shift your posture and change your voice to mock Levi’s, “you should stand like this and lower your voice a bit more.”

Oruos eyes widened but he’s quick to catch himself, quick to turn down what you suggested to him as his comrades burst into laughter and Eren seemed a bit lost. “I don’t know what you’re talking about brat.”

You smirk and change back to your own posture and voice. “It’s okay, I find it funny.”

“Oruo,” Petra interjected, “don’t talk to the Captain's kid like that.”

“It’s okay,” you assure them, “I don’t mind, but really,” you then change your voice and your expression to once again mock Levi’s. “It’s like this.” You smile brightly and switch back to your own voice. “It was an honor meeting you all.” You begin to walk to the door and continue. “I guess I’ll see you all later, for now I have to go before he comes back and gets me in trouble.” Your eyes shift to Eren and you wave at him. “See ya later, Eren.”

As far as first days go, this first day as an official Scout was like the rest. There were introductions, touring, assignments, schedules on the classes every new recruit needed to attend to memorize Erwins formation for the expedition that everyone was going to join. Something that surprised you because from what you did pick up before you left, usually the new recruits wouldn’t attend the expedition, not until they had proper time to memorize the map. But this time it was different. But then again, perhaps it was just a new normal now.

And it’s not like you could just skip these classes, you were a recruit now. It was an obligation. Just like your chores were too. Nonetheless you preferred chores over the classes that you had to admit were dreadfully boring. No matter how much you claimed to like learning, these weren’t really the classes you wanted. Not only that, but learning that as recruits you were going to go on your first expedition in a month was really hard, for some more than the others. It was a good thing that reuniting with Eren lifted some of your friends' spirits after hearing such heavy news. Yours on the other hand lasted until the night.

As night rolled around, as you lay in your bunk and closed your eyes, sleep came but soon was interrupted by the same nightmare you’ve had the past month; the one where you’re underground again, basked in darkness and cornered by the dead bodies of Furlan and Isabel. Only this time, Marcos' body was there too. The darkness was invasive but you knew he was there now too; haunting your dreams and not letting you get any sleep out of fear of both the dark and their bloodied bodies.

You tried rolling to your other side, tried to find assurance in the orange-red flame from the candlelight that casted your body's shadow on the wall beside you, but it didn’t work. So instead of trying to sleep again, you quietly roll off of bed and grab a book from under your bed, quietly grab your candlelight and carefully tiptoe out of the girls bunk room to walk towards Levi’s room. You knew he hardly slept, so you knew going to him in the middle of the night was always welcomed. Not like he cared if you were there when he was sleeping too.

When you got to the outside of his door, you saw the soft candlelight peeking out from under the door and expected him to be awake. But as you knocked once and slowly opened the door after no answer, you were welcomed with the sight of him slouched over his desk fast asleep. You softly huffed out at the sight and quietly closed the door after you, walking in and placing your book on the bed to instead grab his pillow and blanket. “How many times,” you whisper to yourself as you make your way to where he is. “Have I told him to sleep on his bed?”

There was no point in trying to move him to his bed, you knew if you tried he’d wake up the moment you lifted him from the chair. So instead you did the thing you always did; you threw the blanket over his body, very gently picked up his head to move his things to the side and instead slide the pillow under his head, so he wouldn’t have to lay on the hard surface. “There you go,” you continue to whisper as you successfully step back without waking him up. “Goodnight, Levi.” You smile softly, turning back around to grab your book and lay on his bed to read instead. Finding comfort in hearing his soft snores fill the candlelit room; smiling to yourself as you read the book you were rereading and unknowingly passing out after some time. Much to Levi’s surprise as he woke up not so much longer after.

He groggily lifted his head off the pillow he was surprised to be laying on, and kept his eyes on you for a few minutes to try and realize that this wasn’t a dream. You were in fact back. When that realization hit him he didn’t hesitate to push himself off his chair, grabbing the blanket that slid off his body and the pillow on his desk. He quietly stepped to the side of the bed and threw the blanket over your curled up body, lifting your head to pull away the book that you were accidentally drooling on and placing the same pillow you left him, under your own head.

Before he sat back on his chair, he slowly leaned in to gently stroke your cheek with his knuckle as he still couldn’t believe the person he was seeing. He couldn’t help but sigh deeply as his mind tried to process the fact that you had aged up so much in the past three years he hadn’t seen you. He couldn’t help but notice that your face had changed, that your body had matured and was still doing so, that your eyes didn’t carry the same innocent glow they once did. He had wanted to keep you protected from all the ugliness the world had, but it was impossible, he knew that the moment he found you on his doorstep. Yet throughout the years he couldn’t help but be delusional to that certain fact.

He couldn’t be that way anymore, you both knew that. No matter how much he wanted to keep you secured under the security of his cape, and in the warmth of his arms. He had to let you spread your own wings now, experience for yourself all the dangers he dreaded you facing, everything life had to offer you. All he could do now was watch you grow, advise and protect you when he could without completely smothering you. He couldn’t help but think if this was the same good type of heartache his own mother suffered as she raised him...he just never expected to get so attached.

——

“Cherry seed.”

Your eyes fly to Jean after that nickname spills out of his mouth, and as you're sitting across from him you shoot him a feigned smile and snap back, “horse face.”

His dark eyebrows furrow and he scoffs, “don’t call me that.”

“Then don’t call me what you just did, two can play at that game and I'd hate to see you lose.” You remark while a smirk pulls on the corner of your lips.

Jean just shoots you a pointed glare before he takes a spoonful of his breakfast and changes the subject. “Where have you been? I didn’t see you all of yesterday, I almost forgot you existed.”

“I was busy,” you shrug as you prop your elbows on the table. “But you’ll see more of me from now on. I get no special treatment so I’ll be stuck as if I were actually new here.”

“Oh how poor of you.” Jean feigns pity before taking another spoonful of breakfast. “To be stuck with us fresh meat and not get an immediate promotion.”

“It truly does suck,” you answer sarcastically whilst you rest your chin on your hand and feign a pout. “To think I could’ve been your captain.”

“To think I lost such great honor.” He sighs deeply and then can’t help but mirror your faint smile before he focuses back on his breakfast, sliding his eyes to your empty space on the table. “You should eat,” he mutters with food in his mouth, “you’ve been skipping breakfast too much already.”

You sigh and roll out “I will,” slowly before you rest your head on your other hand.

“And don’t be giving it to Sasha,” he continues to scold you “and pretend you ate it either.”

“I will,” you repeat a bit more sharply; knowing that he wouldn't be the only one nagging you about missed meals anymore. You knew you had other sets of eyes watching you now too—“so,” you continue to change the subject. “How was your first night as a Scout, Hmm?”

“Right now it feels just like when I was a Cadet.” He shares, “it doesn’t feel any different and I don’t suspect it will until our first expedition.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Jeans eyes leave your slouched figure in front of him and catches the tall blonde walking your way. “Reiner is coming this way.” He tells you as he looks back at his plate.

You lift your head from your hand and straighten out your posture, trying to fight the temptation not to look at him over your shoulder and instead keeping your focus on Jean. “Quick, how do I look?”

“Like you’ve been lacking sleep for sixteen years.” He remarks, causing you to shoot him an icy glare before he continues to toruture you. “Now is your chance to tell him how you feel.”

You laugh nervously and shake your head. “Are you crazy? No.”

“You know he likes you,” Jean points out, “what’s the worst thing that can happen?”

“Uh, he can hear me.” You spat out. “And I embarrass myself.” You peek over your shoulder and feel your heart clench in your chest. “How about this,” you continue as you look back at Jean. “You tell Mikasa how you feel and I tell Reiner how I feel, yeah?”

Before Jean could answer, the man you had been talking about comes and sits beside you, sliding a plate of hot breakfast to you as he also puts down his own. “Thought you were running on an empty stomach.” He tells you, “you should eat. Wouldn’t want you passing out in the middle of training.”

You fully turn your head to the side and smile shyly, pulling your plate closer to you and sharing a quick lingering look with Reiner. “Thank you,” you mutter, tearing your gaze away as you caught Bertholdt sitting next to Reiner, noticing as you were looking back at your food that Jean was trying hard not to laugh at you. You ignore him however and hesitantly take a bite out of the breakfast Reiner brought you, swallowing before briefly glancing at Reiner and Bertholdt to address your concerned question to them. “How are you guys doing?”

“Well,” Reiner sighs, “the past couple days have really been something, but we’ll pull through. We always have.”

“Yeah,” Bertholdt agrees as his eyes leave Reiner and turn to you. “Reiner is right. You don’t have to worry about us, y/n. How are you?”

You shrug. “I’ll be alright.” You look at your food and take in another small spoonful, letting Jean's comment about Reiner echo in your mind, but nothing else beside that before your train of thought was interrupted as Connie, Sasha, Ymir, Krista, Mikasa, Armin and Eren sat at the same table. They all had their breakfasts and a more lighthearted look on their faces than the ones they carried yesterday. Sasha especially, as she seemed to be angsty to talk to you as she sat at your side and didn’t hesitate to address you.

“So y/n, is y/n your real name? Or is it Cherry?”

You lift your eyes from your plate and slowly slide them to Sasha, noticing that all of your friends' eyes were intently on you. “It’s y/n. Cherry is just something that Levi and some of the Scouts call me.”

“Why?” Krista probes.

“Well Levi does because,” your mind wanders to the story he had told you about the nickname, and you decide it’s too long to tell them at the moment. “Well it’s a long story, but Cherry is something he called me, and the scouts, well, when I came here, I introduced myself with my nickname, so it stuck.”

“Oh well you’re lucky,” Sasha continues with a goofy smile. “You’re nicknamed after a fruit!” Her brown eyes glow with excitement as she grabs your arm a little too tightly. “Can I call you Cherry from now on?”

“Uh, sure.” You shrug nonchalantly, looking at Krista as she also continued speaking.

“That’s such a sweet name, can I call you that too?”

“Go ahead.” You answer, knowing that you couldn’t be rude and say no.

“Hey,” Eren chimed in, “Hange said that the reason Levi calls you that is because you were...”

“It doesn’t matter,” you quickly cut off Eren, shooting him a warning glare before you avoid all the curious stares and begin eating again.

“Tell us what you heard, Eren.” Ymir commented smugly, shooting you a taunting look that you felt burning into your skull. “You can’t leave us hanging now.”

Again you tear your gaze away from your food and shoot Eren a cold warning look that he took as a sign to just be quiet and ignore Ymir instead. She kept pestering him, like Connie and Sasha did too, but he didn’t give in. The stare you shot him engraved into his head and scared him from saying the rest, whilst also reminding him too much of his captain's chilling look. That, or well the sight of Levi passing by you to place a cup of tea by your plate just made him avoid the subject completely. So instead he just let the conversation change before you all had to go to your class.

A class that was the same each day for a month straight; boring as you had to remember your maps and important positions for the expedition.

All until you only had the choice but try to recall it by pure memory as the day of the expedition finally rolled around.

“The 57th expedition outside the wall begins now!” Erwin's voice booms from the front of the formation, everyone not letting themselves fall behind, nor trying to focus on the Titans that already threatened your lives, instead letting the support squad do their work while you all rode ahead; luckily enough everyone making it out of the town alive and riding further out the wall.

Something that still felt so surreal to you. Even if where you were, was still considered being inside the walls. Nonetheless, it felt like a rush of both excitement and fear. Mainly fear. Because now you were on your own. Literally parting away from the formation on your own (not really), but as Erwin signalled for the long range scouting, your friends weren’t going to be by your side anymore, you were with your own squad, riding in the right flank with the search squad.

What damn luck. On my first expedition too.

The only reason you got put there is to be their messenger and shoot the needed flares. You weren’t to make contact with any Titans unless extremely necessary. Which was disappointing, yet relieving. And the more you thought of it, of what you were supposed to do, the memory of a lesson came to mind as you rode along your squad. “It will be mainly the search squads in the first column that will have contact with Titans. When they find a Titan, they will fire a red smoke flare. When a soldier sees a flare he relays the message in the same way. Using the flares to confirm the Titans location the commander will fire a green flare and indicate in which direction everyone will proceed. In this way everyone can avoid contact with Titans. However there will be instances due to the lay of the land or obstructions when a Titan will be found too late and is already inside the formation....”

“Y/N, shoot a right flare for that short ugly Titan approaching the right corner.” Your squad leader orders, causing you to look in the direction of the small Titan approaching, lifting your flare and shooting out a red flare whilst you cover your ear from the loud boom. Since it was small, the squad chose to leave it be and instead move away as the formation moved slightly.

“...Our past measures have worked only on the relatively easy-to-predict “ordinary” types. The variants, with their unpredictable behavior, are the only ones that demand engagement!”

“I hear you’ve already killed two Titans as a cadet?! That’s impressive!” Your squad leader exclaims her comment at you.

You nod stiffly and briefly glance at her before you refocus on the incoming land. “Yes, I have, but it wasn’t an easy task, nor was it alone!” Again you glance her way and notice this time her brown eyes were searching the area. Yet she still found a way to multitask.

“Two is still two.” She assures you, her eyes following yours as you watched a flock of birds rapidly fly from their tree and caw sharply as they flew past you. It wasn’t a sight to gawk over, or really think much of, but still your hands tightened around your horse's reins and your eyes narrowed ahead. You continued to ride in a careful silence, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand and chills run down your spine. Again you didn’t think much of that either.

But it was in that moment, the seconds after, where two Titans began to come after you, breaking apart from one another and aiming for both sides of your squad, their arms out ready to swing at you beneath them. However you all were smarter, you sped up and rode to the left side, pulling out your flare gun with your trembling hand and taking a red flare to shoot it into the sky—“good!” Your squad leader praised you, leading the way and pushing the horses to sprint away from the Titans faster.

Yet as you left those behind and moved with the formation, two more Titans came running, creating a dust cloud that covered the horde following after them.

“What the hell?” One of your squad members shouts as his eyes fixate on the horde all coming your way, picking up their pace as their eyes spotted their temptation, as if the sight of your approaching figures had set something off within them. “We can’t take them all! We’ll be caught up and only end up losing our own!”

Your eyes widen and your mind races with the thought that this is the most Titans you’ve seen clustered together. It almost looked like they were purposely baited together. It was off putting and made your heart race inside your chest...even more so as they began to break apart and target different spots of your squad, running faster as they did so. And regardless of their tactics you put a red flare in your gun and intended to shoot it as a couple of your comrades fought them to thin out their horde. But as your finger hovered over the trigger, you felt the ground tremble, and spotted more birds quickly fly away as if in a panic.

When you tried to figure out what felt wrong, suddenly another large horde came running your way, this time getting led by a taller Titan, a blonde one with features of a female, blue eyes and a glare that made goosebumps grow all over your body. Unlike the Titans it led, this one seemed to be on a mission, she ran like a human would and let the horde run past her as she stopped in her spot briefly. Her eyes appearing to watch over the chaos she delivered, and her expression painted as if she were thinking.

She let the horde infest and overwhelm your squad. While she left you all stunned and speechless, frozen as you had never seen an abnormal like her. Or they hadn’t. She reminded you of Eren's Titan. From what you could take note, she acted like him; in the manner they were both intelligent and in control—“This-this one is an abnormal,” your squad leader stammered as she tried to lead what was left of her squad from being caught by swinging hands. “Shoot out the black flare, y/n! We can’t let this one into the formation!”

You nod slowly, trying to guide your horse from the approaching threats, whilst you also struggled to pull out the black flare, feeling the canister almost slip from your fingers before you gripped onto it and then struggled to push it in the gun. From the corner of your eye seeing a red flare fly into the sky. Knowing that the signal was going to move the formation, even if you all had to lag behind to thin out the horde that was more trouble than any of you suspected. You still had to deal with the abnormal Female Titan that continued to prove your theory right.

Your squad leader began to go after her and the Female Titan reacted within seconds, snapping her eyes to your leader and surprising you even more as she reacted by bolting towards her. At the last second though, the Female Titan turned sharply on her heels and headed for the formation, only causing the reaction on your face to deepen as your eyes peeled back further, and your eyebrows pinched together. Regardless of your reaction albeit, this time you were aware, you broke from your stupor as your squad leader looked over her shoulder to shout out the same instruction as before.

This time you raised your hand and shot the black flare, hastily shoving the flare gun back in your pocket as you kept your attention on your squad leader approaching the Female Titan; hearing the cries in the chaos that was brewing from the scene you were leaving, hearing Titans jaws snapping, and bones cracking as you tried your best to follow the instructions given to you. It was a crude thing to do, evil; it made your stomach churn and your heart drop, but you had to keep riding along. They kept reminding that to you. They told you to run to inform the Commander of what rose in battle.

But as you begin to split away, your eyes slide to your squad leader shooting her grapples at the Female Titans body, and a sharp gasp leaves your lips the moment she flies in to swing at the Titans nape, and she swiftly swings her hand back to capture your leader in her grasp. She continues to peek over her shoulder, almost as if she was taunting those couple of soldiers after her before she gave an effortless squeeze that instantly killed your squad leader. Leaving behind only a gruesome mess that she dropped before she looked away and bolted away. Leaving you stunned and petrified on your horse.

At the back of your head you could feel yourself registering the fact that more comrades tried to chase after her, but you couldn’t act on any plan. Your mind came up blank as the brutal scene continued to play out ahead of you. All you could do was watch as the Female Titan evilly played with your comrades; swatting them away and stomping one into unrecognizable pieces and a thick pool of blood.

When you could snap from your speechless state was when a blood-curdling scream beside you rang in your ears, snapping your attention to the side to see a Titan bite down on a comrade and another swing at you, barely letting you swerve away.

“Shit,” you hiss sharply, accidentally stumbling back to where the chaos had brewed and being directly behind the Female Titan’s path. You tried to guide your horse back to your previous path, but as your Horse tries to ride back, from the thick of some trees a Titan jumped out ahead of you. Blossom jolted and skidded to a hard stop, crying out as she stood on her twos and fumbled back before she fell back down on all fours. You tried to calm her down as well yourself, “it’s okay, Blossom, it’s okay girl, I won’t let it grab you. I’m here.”

Albeit the moment you tried to run away, another Titan wasted no time to lunge at you from behind. It’s jaw missing your horse and you by an inch, and instead crashing into the Titan in front of you—Fuck yeah—a smirk tugs on your lips as you watch the smoke rise from their clashed bodies over your shoulder. But the moment was brief, because when you turn away and look ahead, the body of a dead comrade comes hurdling your way. You yanked at the reins to make your horse move away, but the body had been thrown too fast and crashed into your horse, making her cry out in pain as she fell forward and threw you off her back to harshly roll on the ground.

When you come to a hard stop, you feel your body crash onto something hot and wet, you pay no mind to it, just think it’s some Titan remains you saw a now dead Comrade kill. Instead your eyes flutter open, welcoming in the brightness, but instantly feeling them sting and noticing your vision was slightly blurry after the impact—concussion maybe? Nevertheless, regardless of your symptoms, you continue to try to push yourself to your hands and knees, feeling your palms slip on something thick and wet. You blink a few times to clear your vision, wasting no time on looking at the sky above and instead dropping your gaze to identify what was under your hands. Albeit instantly freezing as you recognize the thick crimson pool of blood and the gruesome body parts of a dead body under you.

It took a moment for your head to react as you kept your eyes glued to what was underneath, but once you blinked again, you quickly reeled back onto the clean grass. Feeling yourself pant and cry before your breakfast ran up your throat and escaped from your mouth. You gagged more violently, but your stomach just jerked as nothing came out but air, leaving you to finally wipe tears away and suck in air.

When you remembered to breathe out, whilst thoughts in your mind raced at a speed that you couldn’t keep up with. You could feel your body pushing itself to its feet and you could see your bloodied clothes as your eyes roamed down your body, but that was it. Every other feeling was absent, time only seemed to slow down around you. You knew you were looking for your horse, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead you saw Titans in her place, coming at you from all sides, surrounding you and causing reality to slap you in the face and return everything back to its normal pace.

“Fuck,” you breathe out rapidly, “fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” You quickly move your hands to pull your blades out, eyeing all four Titans that were surrounding you, trying to see if there was a horse, or anyone who could help you at least create a gap to escape. But as you switched from side to side, all you saw was red painted on the ground. No living souls left to help. Of course you could try to create a gap of your own, there were enough bodies for you to hook your grapples onto, but it would all be useless without a horse to use to leave. You were completely and utterly rendered isolated, with only two blades to think of your salvation. To keep your hopes up.

But that hope was burned away the moment the Titans shadows casted over your body, and the sounds of their running mouths echoed in your ears and pulled you back to that disoriented state you fell under after you saw what you had crashed onto. You could see the Titans hands stretch out to try and grab you off the floor, you noticed their jaws open to show off their sets of teeth and slippery tongues in slow motion as time seemed to slow down around you; as the knowledge of your life coming to a brutal end invaded every single thought, numbing every single muscle in your body and drying your mouth and eyes so no tears rolled down your cheeks.

And perhaps the no tears part was half of your mind accepting death. It was on your first expedition, but who were you to fight fate? At least now you could reunite with Marco, Furlan and Isabel. That beautiful thought made you smile to yourself, made death something easier to accept. After all you had lived longer than you anticipated...Levi would miss you...hopefully. That was one thing that rattled your soul, but...hey, you would be with the family you had both lost, he could rejoice in that fact.

When he didn’t see me return and join what was left of the Scouts, would he wait for my hopeful return? Would he be angry when he figured out I was one of the fatalities? That I had broken my promise to stay alive? Your mind fell silent and you blinked away from the Titans to look at the blue sky and passing clouds. I’m sorry.

You draw in a deep breath and ignore the stench of death that filled the air and instead you focus on the slight smell of grass and sweet fresh air. Death wasn’t something you wanted, not like this...you always wanted it to be after a long fruitful life, outside between the trees and under the sky. But this, well this had to do, right? At least you weren’t in the dark, or underground. At least you were under the sky….Hmm, it is a beautiful day—you continue to close your eyes and let out a slow shaky breath. Expecting to picture Isabel's red hair and bright eyes, Furlans smug but yet sweet look, and or Marcos' goofy grin. But someone else completely comes to mind. Levi. A memory of him plays vividly in your head. A specific memory. Almost as if it was purposely chosen to show you.

“You have to fight, you can’t die,” you heard him whisper to your fragile and sick body, feeling as if his voice was hundreds of miles away, but still clear. “Not like this.You still have a lot to live for…” his eyes looked to the clear sky out the window and he sighed before returning his eyes back to you. “...and you still have a lot to discover,” he continued as he grabbed your hand from the bed. “I know that I may not be like Furlan or Isabel, but I promise I'll try, I won’t leave you. I’m still going to look after you, I’ll listen to your stories, I always do, I’ll read through all your findings, I’ll try to do as much as I can do with you. Just fight for me, y/n, please. I want you to live a long life, to experience everything life has to offer you with no regrets. Just survive. You can’t die. Don’t die. Fight and survive. Fight and survive....”

As Levi’s words echoed all over your head and the memory faded, something else sparked within you, electrifying your mind like if a bolt of lightning had suddenly struck your brain. It almost felt like an adrenaline rush had flooded your entire body, but it felt much, much stronger. You could feel much stronger and much more aware. Your eyes suddenly flew open and you drew in a sharp breath that filled your lungs with a relief that you felt after you resurfaced from the water. Every color that surrounded you was much more vivid, everything your eyes saw was much sharper; to the shortest distance and to the farthest. Something unfolded within you.

Suddenly every thought of death turned to the will to fight. Suddenly blood rushed through your numbed limbs, causing you to dig your heels into the dirt and fortify your grip around your handles. Time was slow, but it was different, you could feel your eyes snap to every location, spot every single movement; from the flapping leaves, to the flowing grass blades, the floating clouds and approaching Titan hands. Your mind instantly came up with an instant plan to escape your current dilemma. And before you knew it, you were shooting your grapple hooks and moving like lightning, faster than you ever have in your years of using ODM gear

One moment you were on the ground, ready to die, the next you were swinging under a Titans arm, swirling around the moment you unhooked your grapples to then shoot them again, and spin directly at the Titans nape. You jumped off their falling body to continue the same process with the others, feeling an instinct guide you, a sense knowing exactly what to do pump through your blood. It was like a rush. Something new and much more than an adrenaline rush. You felt yourself fly around like the wind.

It felt odd moving so fast, you could hardly understand it, hardly control your own speed, but you were grateful for it as it helped you take down the Titans that had once threatened your life. Now, you just watched their bodies slowly evaporate away and leave behind only thick white smoke before you let yourself fall back to the ground in the middle of where their bodies lay to slowly take in what you had done.

It was unbelievable, but there was no one else around for you to make excuses that it wasn’t you—yet you still couldn’t believe it. You looked down at your hands as if that was going to give you reassurance to what had happened, you looked at the sky and found reassurance in the fact that you were alive. You rejoiced in that fact for a brief moment before you were reminded why your life was put at such high risk, why your whole squad was now dead.

She.

It.

The Female Titan was at fault. It was all her fault. She played with your comrades as if they were toys, she brought hordes of Titans that killed your comrades, she was the reason you almost died. Now, you needed to kill her.

You stepped away from the Titans thick smoke their decaying bodies produced and searched for your horse, you called for her, but nothing, luckily another horse heard your call. That was better than nothing. “Good horse,” you praise it as you climb onto it and gently pat their side, giving the chaotic and bloodied scene one last look before you tell them to go.

Needless to say you were riding fast and in rage, focusing on that single mission, and luckily not running into more Titans on your way after the Female Titan. You may not know exactly where she was headed, but you had a rough idea; she seemed to be dead set on chasing the formation, she appeared to be after something, or someone, she—suddenly you lose your previous train of thought and a new thought sparks in your mind. One that causes you to slap your hand on your mouth and run your hand down your face.

Of course. Of fucking course. It can’t be just a coincidence that suddenly another intelligent Titan like Erens appeared out of thin air, after not showing any sign of herself before. And of course she appeared after Eren was announced to be a Titan shifter. She’s most likely after him!

You smile proudly to yourself and release a held in breath—sometimes I truly do surprise myself. Wow.

With a bit more resolve, you focus back on your path ahead, dropping your smile instantaneously and fueling with pulsing rage as you caught sight of the Female Titan.

She was on her knee, and her hand was covering her nape, while her eyes appeared to be focused on something. It was hard to notice what with your rage and your own goal in mind, but the moment you pushed yourself on top of your horse and shot your grapples at the tree beside her to hop off your horse, and press on the gas to fly directly at her, you heard and saw who it was that was keeping her busy. “Y/N?!” Jean shouted.

Your eyes briefly glanced at him beside another tree, before they shifted to Armin at her other side a few feet away, and lastly at Reiner below you riding on his horse. His own eyes watching you fly overhead.

Your lips tugged into a smirk and you continued on, releasing your hooks and letting yourself fall towards the ground as The Female Titan swung her hand at you, missing your body and trying to catch a glimpse of you as you flashed forward and hooked your grapples onto the ground a few feet away. You used the stable ground to flip in the sky and be facing her, using your fingers to press on your gas to hastily fly towards her in a blinding rage that made your figure appear like a gust of wind, or a flash of light as you faked going for her nape and instead stabbed your blades on her shoulder and circled your blades around them to weaken her limb. You flew past her and let your body fall forward before you hooked your grabbles on the tree beside Jean, letting your heels scrape the dirt before you pressed on the gas to throw yourself to the sky and flip around in the air and repeat the process with her other shoulder.

In the heat of the moment you didn’t even focus on the three boys that you were now with, your anger raged and blinded you, your newfound strength and speed kept you busy as you tried to control it properly. The Female Titan kept your mind locked on killing her, and you were close; after weakening both arms, watching as they flopped down, you aligned yourself at a perfect spot where you could swing your blades over her nape. Only as you spun forward, and lifted your blades to slash her nape; the moment you let out a frustrated scream, and felt your blades make contact with her flesh, instead of cutting her nape and killing her, your blades suddenly broke as the tips reached the middle of her nape.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight and your lips parted in a stunned surprise. “What the hell?!” You look back at her nape before blinking to look back at your broken blades, “what just happened?” Once again you look back at the Female Titan and instead of landing on the ground, your gaze narrows on her and you swiftly flip around to again fly towards her. “No matter,” you sneer whilst you hook your grapples onto the ground beside her. “I’ll finish you.” Instead of going to her nape, first you try to take out her eyes. It was a smart plan, but you didn’t catch the fact that she had healed an arm, you didn’t see her lifting her hand to attempt to grab you from the air. It could’ve been a foolish outcome, but you were saved.

Suddenly, the moment you unhook your grapples and try to press on the gas, you feel another body collide onto yours. They push you out of the way and have you stabbing your blades onto the ground so you could slide back and come to a stop without hitting the ground roughly. Again. And the moment you did stop, you snapped your eyes to where you had been shoved away from, and notice that it had been Reiner who had saved you from being crushed.

His eyes find yours for a brief second to share a short lingering before he tries to kill the Female Titan himself. Only just like she failed to do with you, she successfully grabbed Reiner in her grip. Causing you to drop your blades so you could jump to your feet and cry out his name as you saw her thumb crush his body in her fist. “No! Reiner!”

No. No.

You stepped forward mindlessly and clenched your fist around your handles. You waited, or really you were so stunned that you didn’t know how to truly react. All you felt was your heart sink to your stomach and your breath trap in your lungs.

The moment you could react and were going to try and get revenge for Reiner. Said man suddenly and impressively spun out of the Female Titans fist—“yes,” you grin slowly, watching in awe as he safely landed on the ground.

Nevertheless you couldn’t express such emotion because Jean suddenly grabbed your hand and began pulling you forward with the rest of the group. Leaving behind the Female Titan.

“I think we bought enough time!” Reiner exclaimed to all of you, causing you to look at the Female Titan over your shoulder after you let go of Jean's hand. “Hurry and let’s put some distance from this one! It won’t come after us unless it’s a cannibal!”

Just like Reiner had mentioned, the Female Titan went the other way, letting all of you run away. “Look at that!” You point out, causing Reiner to follow your line of vision and add more comments after you.

“The giant bimbo’s scared and going home.”

Only that didn't feel right. But you didn’t have a chance to point that out as Reiner pointed out the skills you demonstrated moments ago. “Hey, y/n what was that?! Where the hell have you been hiding that skill?! You were impressive!”

“That’s right, I noticed that too, you’ve never shown skill like that before.” Armin interjected from under Reiner's arm.

“You were moving like Mikasa and Captain Levi. What was that?” Jean chimed in too.

Your eyes turned to the boys and their curious stares, before you looked back at the horizon ahead and shrugged cluessely. “I...don’t know.”

Tagged- @expectoscamander , @greenygreenland @that-soft-lesbian-friend , @dai-tsukki-desu @usernamehere91 , @avocadopoosae

191 notes · View notes

inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of underage drinking

Part Summary: Sam hosts a party and Y/N makes a not-so-great acquaintance of a certain rock star.

Masterlist

Sam’s house is filled with people. I know the majority of the partiers, the rest I can recognize from whatever field of entertainment they’re in. The music is blasting over the speakers and the voices fill the remaining space.

I search around for him. I manage to find him in the family room on the couch. He’s chatting with a group of people, including Penelope. I make my way over, shuffling between bodies. When I appear out from within the crowd, Sam gleams.

“You made it!”

“I did!” I giggle.

We hug and he introduces me to the girl beside him. “Y/N, this is Cara.”

As if I don't know who Cara Delevigne is, I may be busy but I don't live on Mars. I smile at her kindly. “Nice to meet you!”

“You too! I’m a huge fan of your work on TSL!” She gushes, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

The Seasons of Life is often shortened to TSL, just a side note.

Cara’s accent is so pretty! She’s already a model then she has to have a British accent as if she wasn’t perfect enough!

“Aw, thank you so much!”

Sam slips by me. “I’m going to go get us a drink!”

"Oh wait, Sam!"

“I know what to do!” He shouts back without stopping. I should know better. With how much time we spend together, he would know my order.

“That kid,” I sigh to Penelope and Cara.

The two giggle and we go on to talk about this and that. Fun enough, Cara leaves for Paris tomorrow for a fashion show. Must be exciting to travel so often and to wear the most amazing clothes. She’s quite funny. Her personality is so vibrant and warm. I can see us being good friends.

A loud voice echoes through the house and the three of us look toward the archway to see who it’s coming from. Bodies block the view so I turn my attention back to the girls. Penelope and I discuss the photoshoot in two days and Cara talks about her experiences with Vanity Fair.

“Hey, Cara!” A voice greets behind me.

I don't turn around, but I can feel their energy hovering over me. They shuffle to stand right beside me. I glance up, but can't recognize them.

Cara stands up to hug them. “Good to see you! How are you?” She keeps him in an embrace.

“Great, great!” The guy, who’s back is to me for some reason seems familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“You know Sam?” She questions as they part.

“Not really, I came with a few friends.”

I look over at Penelope for a hint as to who it could be. She shrugs and watches the two interact.

“Speaking of, have you seen him? I should say hi.” The man asks.

“He went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and Y/N.”

The man turns around and he peers down at me on the couch. I should’ve guessed it… MGK. The hair and a million tattoos should've been a dead giveaway. That bright blonde mess of a hairstyle.

“Colson, this is Y/N Voss,” Cara introduces us.

He glances down at me with a smile. “We’ve met actually,” he claims.

My head tilts, I can’t recall when we've met properly.

“Today after I performed on James’s show,” he describes, towering over me.

“Oh! Awesome!” Cara sits back down next to me.

All I can do is stare at Colson in confusion. “If you count glancing at one another from across the room once as meeting,” I reply a bit snarky.

He gives me a toothy grin and eases down onto the cushion ottoman right across from me. “It was more than one glance,” he argues.

“You would know, you’re the one that never looked away," I fire back.

Cara and Penelope exchange a glance, snicker, then leave the scene together. They offer their goodbye before giggling away. They're smart.

Colson seems to have not noticed or at least doesn’t care. He moves to take Cara's spot on the cushion next to me. “You would’ve had to been looking to have noticed that I never looked away.”

My head rolls back, with a mocking laugh. “Well aren’t you a genius!”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind me. “I like to think so.”

“One vodka tonic.” Sam interrupts, holding out my drink.

I take it bitterly. "Thanks."

“Sam huh?” Colson stands up and the two shake hands. “I’m Colson, nice to officially meet you, man!”

Sam treats him like an old friend which annoys the heck out of me. Colson so far has only shown his arrogance to me. “You too! Great seeing you today at the show. Your performance was amazing.”

“Thanks, your interview was hilarious!” Colson fakes charming better than some actors.

“You watched?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I stuck around just off-camera. You two are great!”

Watching these two talk each other up is a bromance waiting to happen.

Sam gestures to me with his glass. “Y/N here is the real comedian. There’s never a dull moment with her."

“I'm sure.” Colson peers down at me with a bright smile. "We’ve only just met and she’s already sparked a debate with me.”

I narrow my eyes at Colson, what’s he trying to start?

Sam settles down on the ottoman where Colson was. “What about?” He is all for the conversation and is jumping headfirst into the tiff between us.

Colson smiles but I see the mischief in his eyes.

“It wasn’t a debate” I rise to my feet in front of the boys. “If you would excuse.” I step away from the couch a little irked.

“Oh come on now Baby, I’m only joking,” Colson calls not bothered.

“Oh no,” Sam laughs behind me. “Best not call her that or any pet names for that matter. She hates them!”

I don’t even acknowledge them on my walk out of the room. Cocky, annoying, ugh! It’s been maybe five minutes and he’s already managed to irritate me. Maybe all the things they write in the tabloids about him are true. A spoiled, arrogant, womanizing jerk. A piece of the worst parts of the industry. I'm going to go find the girls and stay far away from Colson Baker.

________________________________________

On the set of the Vanity Fair shoot, the atmosphere is lively and carefree. The theme is an 80’s vintage style and since it’s coming back the magazine is mixing old with the new. Sam and I are in an old-fashioned record store and it’s wicked! The walls are teal and remind me of an old Taco Bell. There are rows and rows of just vinyl records. My hair is teased in an 80’s rock band kind of hairstyle. 80s music has been playing on set all morning to set the mood. I'm living for it!

A lady approaches me with a huge light wash denim jacket.

“No way! I get to wear this!” I gush.

She helps me put it on and I’m dying from how awesome this shoot is.

I immediately go to Sam's trailer. “Sam! I’m rocking the denim on denim look!” I show off my high-waisted light wash denim shorts with a black bulky leather belt around my waist.

He laughs. “I appreciate the denim on denim but I have to say my favorite part is the old Bon Jovi T.”

The photographer, Adam, comes up with this brilliant idea for me to stand on the crates of records. Where the two rows in the middle of the store meet, there’s enough room for me to stand. Once I’m up there and I can find the balance in these red heels, they have Sam join me.

“Sam, grab her leg and look up at her as though you’re keeping an eye on her,” Adam instructs.

The camera flashes and between snaps, I change my facial features.

“Good! Good! Let’s get some shots from the counter!”

Sam helps me down from the crates and I hop down. We get a shot of me laying across the counter with a red sucker in my hand and Sam hovering over me. This shoot is incredibly fun and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

Sam and I change outfits and Adam asks if he can get a video for the website and YouTube channel. Of course, we said yes. It’ll be a montage of an interview of us individually and then of us just messing around throughout the store with 80’s music playing in the background. Adam has me sit on an 80’s style floral couch they set up in front of a backdrop in the back room. The whole setup is very comfortable and intimate. Only us, a few lights and a camera with the radio playing. Sam is in makeup and dress for the part of the video of us being candid.

“You can sit however you like!” Adam instructs, meaning I’m sitting too formal with my posture straight and legs crossed. “Act like we’re just hanging out or something.”

I adjust myself and crisscross my legs, slouching a bit.

“Much better!” he compliments, staring down at the camera. He hits up on a stool and positions his camera on the stand. “What’s it like to be on the cover of Vanity Fair?”

“The whole experience is unreal! I remember having a subscription to Teen Vogue growing up. My friends and I loved them!”

“Would you describe your style as modern or classic?”

“Classic for sure!” I gush.

Adam snickers. “What’s your favorite decade for fashion?”

I laugh and gesture down at my outfit. “The 80’s.”

“Does anyone from the 80’s inspire your style in particular?”

I tap the tips of my fingers together and hum. “That’s a toughy! I guess I would have to say Demi Moore for the hair. Specifically, her haircut from About Last Night… that’s where I got the style for my hair actually. Another big one would be Cindy Crawford, such a fashion icon!” I could talk about fashion all day and the icons idolize.

“Heels or sneakers?”

“Depends on the occasion. Sneakers for everyday things, I could never live without my trusty Converse. Yet, I would wear heels if I’m dressing it up a bit.”

"Are you more of a girly-girl or tomboy?”

“People who know me well would say I’m a girly-girl but I also don’t mind downplaying it from time to time. I’ve gotten better lately at relaxing and no being so “on” all the time.”

“Hair up or down?”

“Half up, half down,” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully looking into the camera.

Adam chuckles behind the camera. He changes topics. “You’re from South Carolina originally...”

My heart sinks a little at the mention of home, but I hide behind a smile. “That I am.”

“You haven’t been back in almost a year, do you miss it?”

I play with the ends of my hair, examining my lap. Avoiding the camera lens. I look at anywhere but there. “If I were to miss anything about South Carolina, it would be the gorgeous landscape and southern food."

“You have three siblings, correct?” Adam asks next.

“I do, an older brother and sister, then a younger brother.” I list.

“What do they think about the show and your career?”

I nod. “They support me but the distance is hard. As you said, we haven’t all been together in almost a year.”

“Do you have any plans to go visit home soon?”

I sigh, “sadly no, my work keeps me quite busy.”

The interview goes on and we discuss how my style has evolved since I was a teen starting out in the business. I’ll admit, the topics about home and family sucked. Work and personal life are two separate jobs, my worlds can’t collide. I never bring South Carolina into it.

______________________________________________

After the shoot, I received a call from Cara when we were finishing up the photoshoot. Last night, Cara, Penelope, and I had a blast! I completely forgot about the whole tiff with Colson once I reached them in the kitchen. Since then, we’ve been three peas in a pod. While we were talking on the phone, she invited Sam and me to dinner at The Ivy.

“A small gathering of friends,” she told me and asked for us to be there by seven.

Jump ahead to now and Sam is parallel parking the car. I hop out and wait on the sidewalk for Sam to walk around. Our hands' interlock and the paparazzi take notice of us when people on the sidewalk pull out their phones.

“Y/N! SAM! SAM! OVER HERE!”

“HOW’S FILMING GOING?”

“It’s good to be back on set!” I cover my eyes with my clutch.

“YOUR INTERVIEW WITH JAMES CORDEN WAS GREAT!”

“SOCIAL BLEW UP AFTER THE INTERVIEW!”

Sam asks for the guys to make a path so we can get through without issues. He releases my hand and presses his palm to my lower back protectively.

“WE’VE ALREADY SEEN Cara AND PENELOPE GO IN!”

“A FEW PEOPLE ACTUALLY!”

“ARE YOU ALL MEETING UP?”

“Maybe, maybe not!” I look into one of the video cameras and wink.

The guy behind it gets a hoot out of my expression.

Sam and I reach the restaurant and the men let us go in unbothered.

“WE’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE TO YOUR DINNER!”

“Thanks guys, see you later!” I wave to them and their cameras shoot rapidly.

The noise dies down when we go back further into the restaurant. Sam spots Cara in the back and guides me back there. Tables are lined up in a long row and the majority of the seats are filled.

Cara, cool as a cucumber pulls me into a hug. “Hey Y/N! So glad you two could come!” She sits Sam and me across from each other near the middle. She insisted that I sit by her so we could chat. We get to talking about the Vanity Fair shoot today then she’s pulled away when another guest arrives.

The waitress comes up behind me and requests my drink order.

“I’ll have a sweet tea please.”

“We only serve unsweetened.”

I hate it when they say that. “That’s fine, thank you!” Sam eyes me and I pout about having no sweet tea.

“You realize there’s sugar right here.” He slides me the packets of sugar.

“Yes but it’s not the same. There’s sweet tea at every restaurant where I’m from and I come here boom! Sweet tea is nonexistent!”

"What’s the drink that’s carbonated?” He’s asking to be annoying because the west coast and the midwest disagree on the name.

“Pop!” I glare at him.

“That’s right! Pop! Sounds like you’re saying pot every time.” He laughs at his own joke, finding himself humorous.

“It’s soda by the way," he corrects.

“Uh uh,” I refuse to change my ways, “it’s pop.”

The empty chair next to me slides back and when I glance up to see who’s doing it, an instant headache hits my brain.

Sam greets Colson warmly with a handshake. I shoot Sam another glare. He’s acting neutral but that shouldn’t be a choice in this case. He was my friend first!

Colson removes black Ray-Bans from his face and positions them on top of his head.

“Hello Y/N.” Colson sends me one of his charming grins so many teen girls swoon over.

“Hi,” I reply, not attempting to hide my disinterest. I curve my body away from him and towards Cara, legitly giving him the cold shoulder.

The dinner goes on without a hitch surprisingly, considering the circumstances. Penelope leans down over the back of my chair to say our goodbyes.

I turn around in my chair to face her. “See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” she rubs her hand up and down my arm.

She and I exchange kisses on the cheek. “Love you!” We say in unison as we part.

“Later Sam!” She wiggles her fingers at him in a wave.

Sam and I stick around a while longer since Cara and I have gotten into a deep conversation about our shared love for vintage things. A conversation about our collections of records alone went on for twenty minutes. I hadn't noticed that it was just four of us now. Sam and Colson have been talking most of the dinner.

A pair of hands rest on my shoulders and steal my attention away from Cara. “Y/N, you ready to go?” Sam asks.

“We’ll head out too!” Cara announces with her sights directed behind me.

I look over my shoulder and Colson is standing beside Sam. The four of us walking out together… how convenient.

I grab my clutch, sticking close to Sam to dodge Colson.

The four of us walk toward the front of the restaurant and right when we reach the steps leading outside, Cara announces that she forgot her purse.

“I’ll be right back!” She urges us to go on without her.

The cameras waited for us as I assumed they would. They’re capturing every minute of us waiting for Cara.

I place my hand on Sam’s shoulder, “would you go help her?”

“You sure?” His eyes flicker between me and Colson.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him and he promises he’ll only be a second.

“Go to the car so you aren’t bothered,” he refers to the paparazzi.

“I’ll walk her,” Colson offers.

Sam gives him the go-ahead as he goes off to help in the search for the purse.

I’m left with the one guy I was avoiding. I grip the keys in my hand and walk down the brick steps to the sidewalk. I hear Colson behind me and stop to address him. “I can walk myself to the car.”

He raises his arms mocking a surrender. “I don’t doubt your ability to walk, just helping out.”

“I don’t need your help,” I scoff, starting to walk again.

“I never said you did,” Colson sassily replies.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

A man runs around me to get a photo of me straight on.

“Y/N! Y/N! WALKING IN WITH SAM AND LEAVING WITH MGK, ANY EXPLANATION?”

I pause for a moment, making eye contact with the man behind the camera. Is he honestly trying to start drama? What lies are he going to sell? I’m only going to the car because Sam requested. The only reason Colson is even near me is that he’s so freaking persistent.

I push back the aggravation and force my lips into a kind smile. I can’t have a single moment of weakness. I can’t give in to my emotions like others. “Sam is helping Cara with something inside. Colson was kind enough to walk me to the car.”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU GUYS KNOWN EACH OTHER?”

I purposefully answer quickly so Colson doesn’t even have the chance to think of a response. “Not long, we met the other day backstage at The Late Late Show. We have a lot of the same friends and had no idea!” I peek over at Colson and he gives me a knowing look. I dismiss it and go on with my charade. I will not let this jerk mess with my career.

“ANY CHANCE OF HAVING COLSON GUEST STAR ON THE SHOW?”

“That would be great!” I lie my butt off, “having more friends on set would be fun!”

“COLSON, HOW’S YOUR NEW ALBUM COMING ALONG?!”

“We’re in the recording stage right now. Should be released sometime this summer," he answers.

“FOLLOWING UP WITH A TOUR?”

“Of course!” he chuckles.

I unlock the car and move around the guys to reach the door.

“WE’LL LET YOU GUYS GO ON. ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR NIGHT!” One of them departs.

“Thank you! You too!” I wave goodbye.

Some stick behind to get a few last pictures but for the most part, they all disburse. The ones remaining, however, keep their distance.

I yank on the handle of the door and Colson holds it for me. As if he's a gentleman. I begin to climb in, prepared to yank it shut in his face.

“Friends huh?” Colson chuckles.

I turn around abruptly and check around the general area of the sidewalk for any cameras. Seems the remainder of the guys have left. I shut the door and Colson removes his hand in a rush.

“No, not friends! I only said that to please the public," I huff.

“Ouch!” he acts offended, placing his hand on his heart. “I did find it interesting that you claimed we met backstage the other day so I was right!” He chuckles, believing he caught me.

“No, no, no, no!" I shut that thought down quickly. "The only reason I made that up was that it’s not good for my image if I admit I was at a party. People tend to assume that heavy drinking and drugs occur at parties. I can’t be associate with that scene!”

“Oh, so it’s alright to lie?” He crosses his arms and snickers, glancing down the street toward the restaurant.

I roll my eyes, of course, he doesn’t understand, why would he? “You don’t get it” I scoff, dismissing him. I turn and reach for the car handle again.

“So what if you were at a party? People drink, if some have a problem with that, that’s their problem. Oh! I forgot! You're America's Sweetheart! The perfect angel princess with a spotless record,” he mocks.

I slam the car door shut, having hit my limit. I keep my voice hush. “It’s not that simple! I'm not like you! I can't be caught partying! If the country, the world, sees the truth then my image is ruined! I've been doing this since I was a teenager! I worked way too hard for far too long to lose everything over a stupid mistake!”

Colson’s face falters from his usual carefree expression to one of seriousness.

“Found it! Let’s go!” Sam announces loudly to the whole block.

I toss him the keys and glance back to Colson who stands there in a stillness I have yet to see from me. His stare makes me want to hide. I feel as though I’m under a microscope being studied.

“Toodaloo Y/N! ‘Till next time my pals!” Cara strolls down the sidewalk.

It’s evident she’s had a couple of drinks. She sways further down the sidewalk and comes to a stop once she notices Colson isn’t following.

“Later Cara!” Sam shouts over the top of the car behind me.

Colson and I stare at each other I’m guessing for different reasons. He appears lost in thought and I’m desperately trying to figure out why. If I look away, I fear he’ll break to pieces or something.

Cara pauses. “Colson? You coming?”

He holds out for a moment but finally breaks eye contact with me. "Yeah."

When I’m no longer staring into those black works of art I regain my ability to move. I hurry into the car and Sam says his goodbyes again over the top of the car. I buckle my seatbelt when he climbs in. Watching strangers walk up and down the sidewalk, I’m perfectly aware of Sam starring me down.

He pulls onto the street. “Are we gonna talk about it or are we doing silence?”

I reach over and turn up the radio.

“Of course you make your own option.” Sam watches me, waiting for some sort of explanation.

We come in at the end of a song and the next one is oh too recognizable. The classic rock sound that is a part of all of Colson’s music plays through the car speakers. His vocals enter the soundwave and I groan loudly over the music before turning off the radio.

"No music then!" I snap.

__________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @canyoubuymetoast @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa5 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxr @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresix @thysagclub

#mgk smut #mgk fanfic #mgk imagine #mgk #mgk x reader #mgk aesthetic #machine gun kelly #imagine #fanfiction

62 notes · View notes

my-soul-sings · 3 years

Text

kiss the girl: ch 3

Fandom: Tears of Themis Characters: Artem x Reader

Summary: Armed with a trusty book, Artem Wing attempts to win the woman of his dreams.

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 2 extra (ft. marius) | ch 3

***

Compliment her.

This was supposed to be the easiest tip of them all. Giving her compliments was easy; he could compliment her for doing a good job on a court document draft, for responding well to the client at a client meeting, for her quick and sharp answer to his question about a case… Point was, it wasn’t a difficult task.

…At least, that was what he thought, until one afternoon, Celestine barged into his office looking quite exasperated.

“You’ve been complimenting her a lot lately, you know,” she tells him, to which he merely looks up briefly before returning his attention to the case file he was reading.

“And?”

“I know what you’re doing, but, Artem… this...” He looks up again and Celestine is chewing on her bottom lip, frowning as she thinks about how to string her thoughts into words.

“Am I doing something wrong?” How can he get this wrong though? He might be clueless in things like giving flowers, but surely he’s able to do something as simple as compliments.

“It’s not that. It’s...” she starts snapping her fingers as she attempts to summon a coherent explanation. “She’s happy, but… ah, I’ve got it.” Celestine clears her throat, smiling confidently now. “The compliments are coming from you as her boss rather than as a love interest. You get it?”

Artem sees nothing worth smiling about. In fact, the paper in his hand begins to crumple.

His colleague is quick to realise this, and her smile drops almost immediately. “It’s not a huge problem. She’s happy that you think she’s performing well!”

Her words don’t seem to register in his mind, however. The crumpled document falls from his grasp and flutters soundlessly onto the table, while Artem interlocks his fingers and rests his head against his knuckles with a loud sigh.

“Come on, don’t be like that. It’s fine. Just keep it in mind the next time you want to compliment her.”

“What compliment can I give that won’t sound like it’s coming from her boss, and won’t land me in a talk with the HR department?”

“Just say her hair looks nice. Or her outfit. Women aren’t that hard to please.”

With another sigh, Artem looks up and nods, although the movement is noticeably weary. Celestine eyes soften at the sight, although of course she can’t help but laugh at him—as she always does. “You’re making progress, don’t worry. And I have your back, so everything will be fine.”

“Alright... Thank you, Celestine.”

“You can thank me by treating me to a fancy dinner.”

In the haze of his thoughts, he agrees easily. “Fine, I will.”

Artem waits for her to gleefully exit his office before leaning back in his chair and running his hands through his hair.

So much for it being easy this time.

***

You’re starting to wonder if Artem is sending you hints… and not in a good way. He’s been complimenting you on your outfit and hair for the past three days, even though you’ve been wearing the same hairstyle and the same red jacket and pencil skirt to work (because that is the only outfit you own—you’re not sure why, it’s not like you’re a character in a game).

Is he hinting for you to change it up? He’s not the kind of person to tell you outright if you need an outfit change… Maybe it’s time to schedule a solo shopping trip this weekend—if you can clear the pile of research on your to-do list before then, that is.

“You look worried. What happened?” Kiki asks as she passes by your desk on the way to the restroom.

Right, Kiki. You can ask her. You swivel your chair around so she can get a full look at your outfit. “How do I look? Tell me honestly.”

“You… look the same as always. Am I supposed to notice something new?”

“No,” you wave her off with a sigh. “I think Artem is hinting for me to get some new clothes.”

“Huh? No way. Why? Did he tell you to go shopping?”

“He didn’t… He’s just been complimenting me a lot on my clothes and hair, but I look the same as I always do.”

“That’s weird…” Kiki purses her lips, eyes darting left and right as she thinks. “But everyone in this office wears the same outfit all the time too, even him. Why would he single you out?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter. “Maybe I’m doing something wrong?”

“He’s here,” she whispers sharply, and immediately you tense up when you notice Artem walking over towards the pantry. Kiki sends you a quick thumbs-up sign, mouthing “Good luck” before she scurries off in the direction of the restroom.

You pretend to go back to work, hoping that Artem will just walk by and not comment on your outfit or hair again—you got the hint. You’ll go shopping this weekend. You will incinerate these clothes and maybe get a haircut or try a different hairdo. All you want is to not hear from the man you like that he’s less than impressed with your outfit or hair.

Unfortunately, it seems that your silent pleas won’t go answered today again. You hear your boss clear his throat right next to your desk, and you look up, plastering a smile on your face to greet him.

“Yes… Artem?”

He pauses, scrutinising your face for a moment, and you regret letting your smile slip for just that split second. Artem has eyes as sharp as an eagle’s and immediately he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing!”

He leans over, his frown deepening. It’s unfair that he can look this effortlessly good in his suit and tie despite wearing it every day. You, on the other hand…

“You don’t look like you’re okay. Is it a case that’s troubling you?”

“No, it’s not. It’s something else... I won’t let it affect my work, don’t worry.” You grin at him, hoping he’ll buy it, but you gather from the thin line of his lips that he is hardly convinced. Of course not—this man has been thoroughly trained to single out liars on the witness stand.

Your shoulders tense, not sure what Artem is about to say. Judging from the frown, it doesn’t look like it’ll be good.

But then in that moment, his features soften into the kind, gentle man you’ve become familiar with after working with him for so long. “If there’s anything you’re worried about, you can talk to me. I’m here to listen.”

His words remind you of why you fell for him in the first place.

Touched, your lips begin to lift into a smile. “It’s really nothing… But thank you.”

Again, he pauses, although this time, his expression wavers, morphing into something pinker and unsure. His lips move, but no sound comes out until a few seconds pass.

Eventually, he speaks again. “You look... better when you smile.” The sentence is almost too soft to hear, but you manage to catch it before he turns around and marches right back into his office.

You stare at his retreating figure, wondering if you’d heard wrong. Despite the lingering doubt, your cheeks begin to warm.

***

When Artem returns to his office, the first thing he does is to loosen his tie—it’s starting to feel suffocating with how warm he’s suddenly feeling. How pathetic must he look? He was asking her what she was worried about, but all he did was say something and then run away with his tail between his legs.

But then… maybe that could count as a compliment? He can’t really tell, since Celestine only told him to compliment her on her outfit and hair. And he doesn’t want to consult Celestine further on this, lest she ask for another appallingly expensive dinner treat.

If that was a compliment though, then it had come out far more naturally than he had expected it to. Maybe that’s what it’s supposed to be like—natural, easy and sincere. No need to think too deep into it and just let things be.

With a satisfied smile, he peeks out the window of his office to see her also smiling to herself as she continues her work.

Compliment her. That wasn’t such a bad tip after all.

#tears of themis #artem wing #artem fanfiction #artem fanfic #tears of themis fanfiction #tears of themis fanfic #tot fanfiction #tot fanfic #kiss the girl #my writing

70 notes · View notes

floralseokjin · 3 years

Text

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up.

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years. But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning.

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course.

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.”

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said.

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.

Unknown (9:32am) Hi Y/N, It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up. Regards, Seokjin

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed.

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him.

You (9:43am) Of course, send the details. I trust your taste!

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself. Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly…

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you.

Seokjin (9:50am) The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30. Seokjin

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother).

You (9:52am) I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later!

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it.

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely. He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back.

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to.

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again.

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious.

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form.

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea…

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing.

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man.

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately.

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly.

“Hey,” you greeted back.

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment.

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that."

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway.

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.”

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous.

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #mls:drabbles #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

144 notes · View notes

haus-seeblick · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 4 - Secrets

Title: “Messy”

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 3,503

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Original Characters

Tags: John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Angst, Breaking The Rules, Dean is Sam's Real Parent (But he shouldn't have to be), Dean Giving Sam a Childhood, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Meets a Cute Boy, Unwanted Haircut, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dean is 13 and Sam is 9

Summary: John leaves Dean and Sam alone at a motel the day before Halloween. Despite John's hard-and-fast rules about leaving the motel room, Sam convinces Dean to take him trick-or-treating. While they're out, Dean meets a boy who makes him feel like breaking the rules was worth it.

On AO3 Here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dean, you know the drill,” John says brusquely as he hoists the duffel over his shoulder. “Tell me the rules.”

Dean stands up from where he’s folding laundry on the motel room floor. They stopped at the laundromat this morning, John tossing Dean just enough quarters for two small loads before taking Sam along with him to the local library for research. They’ve been tracking a creature for days and John’s still not sure exactly what it is.

Dean would have loved to help with the books. Instead he sat in front of the laundry machine, exactly the same as the hundreds of others he’s fed with quarters over the years, and watched their clothes spin around and around. He noticed new holes in Sam’s jeans and socks when he moved them to the dryer. If his dad will let him use some of their wound-stitching thread, he’ll repair them after this hunt.

He faces his dad, posture straight and hands behind his back. “The rules are stay in the room, keep the doors and windows locked, don’t answer the door for anyone except you and Bobby, only spend money if I absolutely have to, and always have a weapon in reach,” he rattles off.

John nods, face impassive. “And the most important rule?”

“Protect Sammy,” Dean says firmly. He glances over to the rickety table under the window, where his scrawny little brother is filling out a worksheet. It’s part of the last round of homework their teachers had given them at their previous school, right before John took them out again to hit the road.

Dean quietly tossed his own homework in the garbage and told Sammy to finish every worksheet, because he was going to mail it back to the school and his teacher would check it. Sam’s even writing a letter in the cursive he’s learning to go along with it.

Dean has no clue what the address of the school is.

John pulls the Impala key out of his pocket and opens the door. “I’ll be out of cell range during this next leg. Check in date is Thursday. Don’t call for help until Sunday.”

Dean nods. John steps halfway out the door before turning back. He eyes Dean for a long moment, as if he’s trying to come up with something to add. Eventually he just says “I’m cutting your hair when I get back. You look messy.”

The door closes. In the silence of the room, Dean reaches up and touches his bangs. Just this morning, in the reflection of the washing machine door, he admired how his hair was curling a bit over his ears. It framed his face and made him look softer. Less skinny. More like the other boys he’d seen at school.

Oh well.

The Impala roars to life outside in the parking lot, and Dean listens until the purr of the engine fades away down the road. He looks at the half-folded pile of laundry at his feet.

“Tomorrow’s Halloween.”

Dean jumps a little. Sam’s right next to him, eyebrows raised expectantly. Dean pushes him away and drops onto the couch, nudging a balled-up pair of socks with his foot. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

Sam sits down next to him. “Dean, I think Dad forgot about Halloween.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “He didn’t forget, Sammy. It just doesn’t matter.” He avoids looking at his brother, running his fingers over the ridge of threads barely holding together the hole in his own jeans.

“But I told James I’d be a doctor,” Sam needles. “He’s gonna be a pirate.”

Sam’s ability to instantly make friends always leaves Dean feeling half-proud, half-nervous. Sam was in third grade with James for less than two weeks, and he still talks about him constantly.

Dean thinks it’s better not to get attached. He just can’t bring himself to teach Sam that particular lesson yet.

He sighs and glances at Sam. “You know you can’t trick-or-treat with James anyway, right? He’s in Denver.”

Sam groans dramatically and flops against the hard backrest of the couch. His shaggy hair falls into his face. Dean looks at the longest strands, curving past Sam’s cheekbones.

“We can just do Halloween here,” he suggests, even though he knows “buying candy from the gas station” definitely doesn’t count as necessary spending.

Sam shakes his head where it’s still resting on the couch. “That’s not real Halloween.”

“We’ve never done a real Halloween, so how would you know?” Dean’s just buying time now, putting off the moment when he has to say “no.”

The stink-eye that’s sent his way is of epic proportions. “I watch TV, Dean.”

Dean rubs his face. “Sammy--”

“--Oh, please, Dean, please!” Sam shifts into begging mode, sitting up and whipping out the puppy eyes. His left eye is half-covered by hair. “I know we’re not allowed, but can’t we break the rules just one time? It can be a secret.”

They hold eye contact for a moment, but Sam’s more stubborn. Dean looks away first, his eyes falling to the laundry on the floor. Almost unconsciously, he reaches under the lumpy couch cushion next to him and lets his fingers graze the pistol stashed there. His stomach rumbles and he wonders how far he can stretch their last cans of soup.

Suddenly, a secret doesn’t sound so bad at all.

“Okay,” he says.

Sam must’ve not expected Dean to relent, because he’s silent for a couple seconds before whooping and launching himself at Dean. “Ahh! Thank you thank you thank you!”

Dean can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He hugs Sam back, the kid’s bony shoulder digging into his ribcage. After a moment, he pulls away and puts on his most serious face. Hands on Sam’s upper arms, he looks him straight in the eyes. “Sam, if we do this, you cannot tell Dad. Do you understand?”

Sam nods enthusiastically, still grinning. Dean digs his fingers into his arms. “Listen to me, or we’re not going.” He waits for Sam’s face to fall a little before continuing. “You can’t just not tell Dad, you can’t drop hints. You have to clean up all your wrappers. We can never talk about it. Do you get it?”

Sam’s eyes are wide now. He nods again, very small, and Dean knows he’s gotten through. He loosens his grip on Sam’s arms. “All right, then. How are we gonna make you look like a doctor?”

Sam beams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, they lock the motel room door behind them and head out. The neighborhood that starts a few streets behind the motel is pretty normal, as far as Dean can tell. The houses aren’t super big, but the yards are, and there are toys scattered on some of the lawns. The biggest house on the corner even has a tree swing. The big tree reminds him of the one in their front yard in Lawrence. He tries not to think about that too much.

It’s dark, and chilly -- they’re still in Colorado -- and Dean holds his jacket closed in front of his chest. The zipper broke a couple weeks ago. Ahead of him, Sam doesn’t seem to feel the cold at all. His “doctor coat” flaps behind his legs as he skips down the sidewalk. It’s just a sheet from the bed that Dean stuck together with safety pins in a certain way (it doesn’t look like a coat at all, but the mirror in the motel bathroom was shattered so Sam couldn’t see it anyway). He hung their stethoscope from the big first-aid kit around Sam’s neck, with the express instruction not to lose it, and he emptied the rest of the first-aid kit onto the couch so Sam could carry the empty box with the big red cross and look professional.

Sam hasn’t smiled this much in weeks. Dean’s neck is crawling with the knowledge that he’s breaking rules, bigtime, but he shakes it off. They’re out now. It’s done.

Sam has already latched on to a group of kids making their way up the drive to a single-story brick house. Dean hears him introduce himself, sees him flash the big toothy smile that Dean told him makes him look friendly. The other kids compliment his stethoscope, and Dean relaxes a little.

Everyone in the group is wearing what looks like homemade costumes, too — there’s another bedsheet, draped over a short kid’s head like a ghost (if only ghosts actually looked like that, Dean thinks); and a long black coat, obviously from an adult, dwarfing a kid who Dean’s pretty sure is supposed to be a vampire. Sam, in his makeshift getup, fits right in.

Dean’s trailing behind the group, letting Sam do his making-friends thing, when he notices another older kid doing the same. He looks about Dean’s age, maybe a year older, fourteen or so, and he’s dressed like an angel with a blue halo made out of pipe cleaners. The rest of his outfit is normal, though — a t-shirt that’s printed to look like a suit and tie, under a regular puffy winter coat. Dean’s eyes linger on him as they follow the younger kids up to the house. When they come to a stop so Sam can ring the doorbell, the other boy looks over at Dean, too.

“Hi,” he says. In the yellow glow of the porchlight, his eyes look greenish blue. “I’m Al.” He reaches out a hand. Dean looks at it for a moment, then takes it. They shake. Al’s hand is warm and smooth, a stark contrast to Dean’s freezing, calloused palm. Dean wishes he could hold on a bit longer.

“Dean,” he replies, dropping Al’s hand. He’s not sure what to say next. That’s Sam’s area of expertise.

Luckily, Al doesn’t let him flounder long. “Do you live around here?” he asks, friendly and curious. Dean’s used to hearing that question asked with a thick layer of suspicion, usually out of the mouth of some nosy adult. He still gives his practiced answer, though.

“No, me and my brother are just visiting our grandparents for a couple days.”

Al nods, accepting the lie easily. “I thought I’d never seen you at school.” He points at the sheet-clad ghost. “That’s my sister Katie. She’s seven. It’s the first time our parents are letting me take her trick-or-treating on our own.”

Dean smiles and gestures at Sam, who’s holding the empty first-aid kit out to the homeowner for candy. “That’s Sam. He’s nine. Same deal for us.”

“I like his costume,” Al says. Dean bristles for a moment, until he realizes Al’s being sincere.

“Thanks,” he replies. “I like Katie’s too.” He sweeps his eyes over Al again. “Why are you wearing a fake suit with your halo?”

Al looks down at himself and laughs sheepishly, smoothing down the front of his t-shirt. “I wanted to do a toga with a sheet, but it’s way too cold. I just dressed up ‘cause Katie wanted me to. The halo was the quickest thing.”

“It works,” Dean assures him, suddenly wanting Al to feel good about himself. He shuffles his feet a little, kicking at the fallen leaves littering the walkway. Al smiles at him and something grows in Dean’s chest, a warm, glowing ball, making everything feel tight and tingly. He’s not sure what to do with it.

Sam appears at his elbow suddenly, much to Dean’s relief. He ruffles Sam’s hair. “What’d you get?”

Already chewing on something that looks very caramelly as it squishes between his teeth, Sam holds out the first-aid kit. “She gave me two big ones!” he announces around his mouthful. Two full-sized Milky Ways, one already half-unwrapped, slide around in the box.

“Cool,” Dean says. “Don’t get a stomachache.”

“They’re gonna get stomachaches,” Al says ruefully as Sam and Katie bounce down the driveway to hit the next house. “We should steal some of their candy, y’know, just to protect them.”

The word protect briefly jolts Dean out of his growing sense of relaxation and he sneakily pats his chest, feeling the sheathed knife tucked away in the inside pocket. He makes sure he can still see Sammy (now bounding up the walkway of the next house), and takes a breath. Everything’s under control.

“You okay?” Al’s looking at him with his eyebrows drawn together, a lock of dark hair falling into the crease. He has nice hair, Dean decides. Floppy and kind of messy, squished flat in the middle by the band of the pipe cleaner halo.

“Yep,” he says, forcing the cheer into his voice. If Al notices, he doesn’t say anything. They continue to follow their siblings through the neighborhood, leaving some distance so they can talk. Al tells Dean about school, that he likes science and hates history, that his favorite band is Journey, that he wants to play soccer but his dad wants him to play football, and that he wants to be a veterinarian.

“I like cars,” Dean says in response. “I’m not great at school. Not sure what I wanna do when I grow up.”

Not sure how to tell you that I’ll probably be hunting monsters for the rest of my life.

Al leans on the picket fence of the house that they’re currently waiting outside. “You could be a teacher,” he says.

Dean narrows his eyes at him in confusion. “I just told you I’m bad at school.”

Al shrugs. “My favorite teacher says he didn’t like school. That’s why he’s so good at helping us. He gets it.”

The heavy layer of clouds above them breaks, and a ray of moonlight lands across Al’s face. They’re standing between streetlights, so the silvery glow makes Al’s blueish eyes gleam. Dean finds he has to breathe a little harder than normal. He shakes his head.

“Nah, if anyone’s gonna be a teacher, it’s Sammy. He’s really smart.”

Al hums and pushes off the fence. Sam and Katie are moving on again. “I don’t know, man. You seem smart to me.” He pats Dean on the shoulder, the warmth of his hand seeping through Dean’s threadbare jacket.

In the relative darkness, Dean smiles so hard his eyes squeeze shut.

Eventually, they’ve stopped at every house in the neighborhood. Dean’s pockets are full of the candy that doesn’t fit into Sam’s overflowing first-aid kit. Al’s coat pockets are bulging, too. Sam and Katie run sugar-hyped circles under a streetlight while Dean and Al stand on the corner, looking at each other a bit awkwardly.

“Uh-- I’m glad we ran into you guys,” Al says finally. “You’re really cool.”

Dean’s glad that he’s the one facing away from the streetlight, because his cheeks heat up and probably look way pinker than they would from just the cold.

“You too,” he says. “Wish we lived around here.”

“Where do you live?” Al asks. “You know, just in case we ever take a road trip.”

Unless your destination’s my dad’s car, I don’t think you’re gonna run into me.

“Sioux Falls,” he says. “South Dakota. I live with my uncle.”

If Al finds that strange, he doesn’t pry. Dean could hug him. He wants to hug him.

Katie comes barrelling over, dragging her pillowcase of candy along the pavement. She’s huffing from running around, ghost sheet dangling half off her body. “Al, I’m soooo tired.” She flops against her brother. Sam comes trotting up behind her and grins at Dean. Dean tries to smile back, but there’s a lump in his throat, something that’s making it hard to breathe.

Al pats Katie on the head. “We should probably go home, anyway. It’s getting late.”

Still taking tight little breaths, Dean nods. “Uh-- yeah, us too. See if Sam can sleep off the sugar rush.”

“How long are you staying with your grandparents?” Al asks.

Dean looks at his feet. Weighs the pros and cons of sneaking out again. He’d have to take Sam; there aren’t actually any grandparents who could watch him.

He can’t risk it.

“We’re going home tomorrow morning,” he says, every word dropping like lead. Sam shoots him a confused look, but he ignores it.

Unless he’s imagining it, Al’s face seems to fall. “Aw, too bad. Wait! Hang on.” He rummages through his candy-heavy pockets until he pulls out a little spiral notebook and a nub of a pencil. He writes something on a page and rips it out. He hands it to Dean.

“Our phone number,” he says with a little smile. He steps forward and the streetlight catches his eyes again. Dean thinks that in the sunlight, they’d be bright blue. Al gestures at the paper. “You’ve got a phone at your uncle’s, right? Maybe you can call me sometime.”

There are way too many feelings jumbling around in Dean’s chest for him to say anything coherent, so he just nods. Al smiles wider. “Cool. I’m happy we met you.” He takes one more step forward and — Dean stops breathing altogether — wraps his arms briefly around Dean’s shoulders. He’s very warm. His hair smells good. Dean’s brain doesn’t catch up quite in time, and he misses his chance to hug back. The edge of Al’s halo brushes Dean’s forehead as he pulls away.

“Thanks for hanging out,” Al says, putting his arm around Katie’s shoulders and turning to go. “Have a good drive back home!”

Dean clears his throat. “Bye, guys,” he says lamely. Sam waves enthusiastically to make up for it. They stand under the streetlight for a long few minutes, watching Al and Katie go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam manages to eat every piece of candy by Thursday morning, which is the day they’re supposed to hear from John. Dean makes him eat canned vegetable soup in between meals of Mars bars and Skittles. They scrounge the motel room for wrappers, tossing them all into a big garbage bag that Dean’s going to throw into the dumpster outside. He finishes folding the laundry, counts the money to make sure it’s all there, re-packs the first aid kit, and puts the sheet back on the bed without the safety pins.

Anytime the unease creeps in about having broken the rules, he looks at his brother’s shining face and pushes it back down. He and Sam rehearse their story in case John asks them what they did and Sam even finishes all of his worksheets. Dean folds them up and hides them at the very bottom of his duffle. He tells Sam he put them into the mailbox in the motel office.

And every few hours, he pulls the folded little piece of notebook paper out of his pocket and looks at it. In careful handwriting, Al had written:

Alan Montgomery

(from Halloween. I hope you call.)

And his phone number.

Thursday afternoon, Dean takes the candy-wrapper garbage bag out to the parking lot. At the last second, he pulls Al’s note out of his jeans. After a long moment of reading and re-reading it, he gently folds it back up and tosses it into the bag. He throws the whole thing into the dumpster.

But not before memorizing the number.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John gets home late Thursday night. Before they check out of the motel on Friday, John sits Dean down on the toilet seat in the bathroom and pulls out his electric clippers.

While John has his back turned, plugging in the clippers by the sink, Dean pushes his hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands bunch up between his fingers and fall back down onto his ears. He remembers Al’s messy hair brushing his cheek when they hugged.

John flips the clippers on and the buzzing fills the bathroom. For the second time, Dean is glad that the mirror is shattered.

With every lock of hair that tumbles to the ground, Dean recites Al’s number in his head.

“There,” John says gruffly, after the floor and Dean’s lap are littered with honey brown strands. “You look like a man again.”

Dean stands up, brushing off his jeans. His head feels cold. “I’ll get a broom,” he says.

He’s halfway out the bathroom door when John says “Dean.”

Dean freezes, already wondering where he left a wrapper, how John found the garbage bag, if Sam let something slip. He slowly turns back. John’s wrapping the cord around the clippers.

“I need you to come on the next hunt. We’ll drop Sam off at Bobby’s.”

Bobby’s, where the telephone is. Dean’s heart beats hard for a different reason now. He tries to look casual. “Are we gonna stay for a bit?”

John’s already shaking his head before Dean’s done talking. He pushes past him and drops the clippers into his duffel bag on the bed. “No. We’ll be on the road for a while.” He stops and looks at Dean. “Weren’t you going to find a broom?”

Dean loads a dustpan with his hair and empties it on top of the garbage bag in the dumpster.

He whispers Al’s number again.

#suptober21 #sorry for the angst #it's Hating John Hours over here #Al is not intended to be a time-traveling Cas btw #I just liked the idea of a pipe-cleaner halo and of Dean having a type #Anyway Dean is Sam's parent #Fuck John Winchester #Dean deserved a cute teenage boyfriend #spn fanfic #ficlet

29 notes · View notes

geniusgub · 3 years

Text

sweatpants//spencer reid

genre: fluff

warnings: nothing really. sad spencer for about two seconds.

word count: 2.7k

i have plenty more one shots on my wattpad so let me know if any of you want to see more of this type of writing :) make sure to reblog and comment :))

i fell in love with spencer reid the moment i met him. i fell in love with absolutely everything about him. his smile lit up the little bookstore as his glasses drifted further and further down his nose, and his hair hung over his forehead in messy, unbrushed curls. from the first time we locked eyes after he got a book down from the top shelf for me, i envisioned our whole future together.

we saw each other casually after our first meeting despite how badly i wanted more. we quickly realized that we frequented the little bookstore at the same time on saturdays and we just began to "accidentally" run into each other over and over at the same exact day and time. of course, i made sure to be there every saturday for the next three months just for the chance of seeing him.

i finally got the balls to ask him out after the fifth month of these meetups. he seems surprised and he blushed, then tugged on his tie to loosen it around his neck. he accepted quickly and we went bowling the next week. we were both horrible and eventually asked to put the bumpers up because the amount of gutter balls we were throwing were astronomical. but that "first" date was the first time i noticed something very important about spencer reid.

he wears a variation of the same outfit every single day, no matter what he's doing.

sweater vests, button ups, slacks, ties, and converse. sometimes a cardigan. these items get mixed and matched everyday and sometimes don't match, but the chaos of his outfit colors just suits him. and it suits his penchant for wearing mismatched socks. but i continued to realize more and more about his wardrobe as we spent more time together.

if we went out: slacks, button up, tie, converse.

if we had dinner at his apartment: slacks, button up, sweater vest, tie, converse.

if we cuddle on the couch: pajamas.

there's no in-between with him and it took me a while to decide if i loved this or thought it was odd. i landed somewhere in the middle. he would sometimes start to squirm in the middle of dinner and go to change into pajamas to be more comfortable.

i never commented on this because i knew he liked the way he dressed and i didn't want him to think i hated it. he's already an insecure person, despite me loving him with my whole heart and soul, and i'd feel so horrible if i added onto that. so i would sit through the squirming and the tie-tugging and the quick unlacing of shoes after a long day of converse wearing. i grinned and gave him lots of kisses because i love him regardless of his fashion choices. or lack there of.

but spencer continues to grow and thankfully, i grow with him. i start a new job and spencer continues to thrive at the bau. i move into his apartment and he decides that this is the perfect time for a change. a new haircut. super short on the sides and long on the top. i nearly keeled when i saw how utterly handsome he was with his new haircut. i jumped his bones immediately.

but the sweater vests and same brown cardigan didn't quite hit the spot anymore. i would find spencer standing in front of the mirror before work, silently wondering if the black or brown cardigan would look better with his gray sweater vest. still, it was endearing but eventually it becomes too much.

i pass a department store everyday on my way home from work and it started to pique my interest. one day when i got off work early and knew spencer wouldn't be home, i stopped off. the store was huge and had a humongous selection of styles and brands to choose from. i knew i had to bring spencer.

when i told him i wanted to take him shopping, he tilted his head in confusion like an adorable puppy. "what do you need? new sweaters? it is almost winter and i know you got rid of most of your winter clothes when the summer came. did you—"

"no, honey," i laughed, silencing his confused, off-topic rant. "i'm taking you shopping. for you."

another head tilt. "for me? i don't need anything."

"i know you don't need anything," i clarified, running my hands through his freshly cut hair, "but i want to treat you. and besides, i think you've outgrown some of your wardrobe and it's time to get some new items."

so that leaves us now, walking hand in hand into the department store. he's holding me tighter than usual as i lead him to the men's section, but i don't complain. i know he gets nervous in public places and i have no problem with a bit of coddling.

"so, i was thinking," i say as i flip through a rack of undershirts, "you could get some new dress pants. maybe a pair of jeans. maybe some blazers or just suit jackets. that way your style can grow but you can also wear your trusty button ups and ties underneath."

spencer pouts. "i like it better when we shop for you."

i stifle a laugh as i find an appealing gray blazer and search for spencer's size. "and why's that, bub?"

"because then you get to pick out cute clothes and i can watch you try them on."

"well, this time, i'll get to watch you try them on," i wink and hand the blazer over to him. "hold that. please and thank you."

spencer huffs and drops my hand so he can hold the hanger of the blazer. i continue walking through the racks and in my peripherals, i can see spencer glancing around the store and at the racks surrounding us. he follows behind me like a lost puppy, the amount of items in his hands growing as i pass every rack.

"how would you feel about," i pick out a set of matching maroon pants and a maroon blazer, "this color?" i told it up to spencer's chest. he looks down at the garment and scrunches up his nose. "no? that's okay. i think navy's suit you better anyway. no pun intended."

"babe?" he wonders softly as i move over to a rack of ties. "why are you doing this?"

"doing what?" i pick up a tie that is blue with pink flamingoes on it and drape it over his shoulder.

"taking me shopping. wanting to redo my wardrobe or something."

"well," a new tie on his shoulder- a yellow base with blue whales, "you have had the same wardrobe since i met you, and that was many years ago. you've grown up, spencer. maybe some new clothes could reflect that."

i watch a pout come to his face and his shoulders deflate. "you don't like the way i dress?"

i pout right back at him, trying to not seem so mocking in my expression. "i love the way you dress. but i think it might be time to replace that same brown sweater vest you've had since college. that's what i'm talking about. we don't have to do this if you don't want. we can go home."

spencer thinks for a second. he adjusts his hold on the handful of blazers and trousers in his arms and takes another glance at them. "i'll give these a try."

the pride swells in my chest and nearly bursts out. it's no secret that spencer hates change. he would rather his life stays exactly the same all the time. meals, furniture arrangement, train schedule, his wardrobe. clearly, he would rather wear the same clothes for the rest of his life than branch out a bit. so him agreeing to do just that nearly makes me cry right in the middle of the department store.

we push on and spencer continues to trail behind me and hold the clothes i pick. once his knees are practically buckling under the weight of the chosen clothes, i agree to let him start part two. the fitting room.

he disappears into a room and i sit across from the door in a fluffy armchair that probably has more germs on it than a public bathroom. okay, maybe that's just dramatic. but it has enough germs that i'm sure spencer would refuse to sit here, or maybe even get grossed out that i'm sitting on it.

"uh," i hear my boyfriends voice from behind the door, "i think i did it."

i hold in my giggle. "you think?"

"i mean, i put together an outfit. don't know if it's any good. it's definitely not as good as the things you put together."

"just let me see."

the door pops open and my jaw nearly hits the floor. my spencer is standing there in navy slacks, a navy blazer, a vest, button up, and a tie. he looks exactly like i expected him too. my same loving, quiet, genius boyfriend but much older and mature. he looks phenomenal.

but spencer scrunches up his nose and turns on his toes to look in the full length mirror. "i feel like all of this is too busy. there's too much happening."

"no, baby, not at all," i come up behind him and slide my hands across his back and then around his waist. "it's such a good look on you. it's spencer reid but as an adult."

he furrows his eyebrows and looks at me through the mirror. "are you implying i dressed like a child before?"

"no, no, not at all," i nudge his waist and he spins back to me. "it's a perfect outfit. you put it together perfectly. the colors, the different pieces."

spencer's face lights up as he watches me adjust the lapel of his jacket. "really?"

"yes!" i smooth down the shoulders and then tug on the cuff links. "it's perfectly your style. you don't think so?"

"mm," he looks back down at his own body and shakes out his arms a little. "i guess it is. it's just...different."

"it is different but it's a good different. you're still the same old genius who could go on for hours about mushrooms or doctor who or whatever. so you," i pat his shoulder and go up on my toes to kiss his cheek, "get into a new outfit and show me again, okay?"

spencer agrees and closes the fitting room door. we stay at the store for nearly two hours, picking out and trying on potential outfits. spencer even starts picking items on his own, but he comes to me in the cutest way to ask if i like the things he's picked out. i always do. and even if it's not my favorite piece, he obviously likes it so i tell him i love it.

we spend hundreds and split the bill. i insisted i pay because i was the one who brought him here, but he insisted he pay because the clothes are for him. we found a happy medium.

i don't know what i thought was going to happen after we basically replaced his wardrobe. apparently, i didn't think about what the next work day would be like. because i wake up before spencer and go to make breakfast and only listen to him shower and get dressed.

"good morning!" spencer chirps, practically skipping into the kitchen.

"morning!" i say back, putting pancakes on a plate for him. "here's your—" and i absolutely freeze in my spot at the sight of him in a dark tan jacket and slacks, a purple button up, and a matching gray tie. his hair is perfectly swooped across his forehead and he's grinning, practically glowing in his new outfit. "holy shit."

"you like it?" he holds up his arms a bit as if to gesture to his appearance.

i just stand and stare at him for another minute, clutching the plate in my hand so tightly that i fear i might break it. but spencer chuckles, taking it from me and placing it in front of the chair he always has breakfast in.

"i might not let you out of the house looking this good," i finally manage to say. "you'll come home with a new girl on your arm and forget all about me."

spencer pouts. "i'd never do that to you."

i grab onto his cheeks and lay a huge kiss on his lips. "i know you wouldn't. you look amazing, spence. even better than yesterday."

spencer comes home that night and beams about the compliments he got from his coworkers today and thanks me for encouraging him to expand his wardrobe. i don't accept his thanks because i'm just happy to see him feeling more confident in himself than ever.

however, my job is not done yet.

as much as he loves his new clothes, i give him a few weeks to adjust to his new normal. i let him get used to needing a few extra minutes in the morning to arrange an outfit and to the washing process before i spring something new on him. but once i can tell he's completely comfortable with his new wardrobe, i stop at the department store after work again.

"spence?" i call into the apartment as i kick my shoes off, clutching the paper bag in my hand.

"hi!" he calls back, emerging from the study with a book in his hand. "you're late."

i hold up the bag for proof. "i stopped at the store again." spencer follows me into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed in anticipation. "well, first, i saw a couple more ties that i liked," i take those out of the bag and throw them over his shoulder. "but i got these!"

i pull out three perfectly folded pairs of sweatpants and four plain colored tee shirts. spencer unravels each item and then looks up with his eyebrows furrowed. "i don't get it."

"okay," i giggle, placing my hands on his shoulders, "when i go to work, i wear my skirts and blouses and heels, right?"

like the puppy he is, he tilts his head to the side in confusion. "right."

"and when i got to sleep, i wear pajamas. but between the blouse and the pajamas, i wear sweats. you, my love," i boop his nose and instantly, an adorable pink hue paints his cheeks, "don't own sweats. you go from suits to pajamas. and again, i'm not saying that i don't love the way you dress. i'm just looking out for your comfort. if you hate them, i'll return them. simple as that."

he runs his hands over the tee shirts and runs it between his fingers. "they are really soft."

"i got the ones that are 100% cotton because i know you like how it feels."

"i'll try it," he concedes, smiling up at me. "thank you. you're too good to me."

"you deserve the world, angel face."

the next day, he gets called away for a case and i don't see him for almost two weeks. we call and text as much as possible, but we both get so busy that it's nearly impossible. so i stick to sending him good morning and goodnight texts and praying that he comes home in one piece.

after nearly two and a half weeks without him, i come home and see his car in the parking garage where it always is. i squeal, running all the way to the apartment and bursting through the door.

spencer is lounging on the couch, thankfully in one piece, and reading a book, dressed in gray sweatpants and a white tee shirt. he looks up and grins when i enter, standing up and pulling me into his arms.

"i can't believe you're sitting here," i mumble into his neck, "and looking so good when i'm not around."

spencer laughs into my shoulder, kissing my small bit of exposed skin. "well, you're here now so you can enjoy it."

"you look so fucking hot," i blurt out, grabbing a handful of his cotton shirt and tugging him towards the bedroom. "let me show you just how hot i think you are."

"god, i love this new wardrobe."

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #dr reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #mgg

41 notes · View notes

softsebnbuckystan · 3 years

Text

Soul ties - Part 8 (Bucky Barnes au)

“No, I don't wanna know, Where you been or where you're goin'

But I know I won't be home, And you'll be on your own”

Maniac by Michael Sembello was blasting from Wanda's room as she was going through her closet, looking for something you could wear at the party. You were tapping your feet to the beat and shaking your head softly.

"This is perfect," Wanda said as she handed you jean shorts and a T-shirt. Finding something in your style had been hard, but the outfit turned out really cute on you. "And before you ask, I still have your plaid shirt if you want to wear that."

Your sister knew you too well ; or maybe it was just her ability to read minds. You were pretty sure it was a mix of both. You looked at your watch : five in the afternoon were already passed and you knew Nat was supposed to arrive soon, so you went to the kitchen after changing. Actually, she was already there.

"Nat!"

"Happy birthday, girl! How do you feel about hitting thirty, huh?"

"Surprisingly good, to be honest," you answered as you hug her tight. "I'm glad you came by."

"Me too. Steve told me pretty interesting news about some guy." She wiggled her brows, making you raise yours.

"Not that interesting. Yes, he is my supposed soulmate, but I got married last week, not matter how that's turning out."

"Yeah, sorry I couldn't be there, by the way. However, if I trust Steve's words..."

"Don't? Please." You smiled, making her laugh. You really must've sounded desperate, or in denial – or, once again, both.

"Fine. But I can't promise I'll hold back my thoughts."

"I know you won't," you joked. "Anyway, is the cake already here?" You asked Sam.

"No, Bucky's not back yet."

"Oh, alright. I thought since he left early..."

"He had stuff to do, apparently." He shrugged, showing he didn't know any more than you did. A smirk appeared on his face. "Miss him already?"

"Ugh, I hate you all."

"No, you don't!"

Everyone around you laughed and, frankly, you couldn't hold it in either. These people always had a way of making you forget about your problems, and Darren hadn't crossed your mind until now. Hours went by and more people arrived at the compound. It wasn't supposed to be a big party, but Tony was obviously unable to resist to Peter Parker asking if he could tag along. This kid loved being around here, maybe as much as you did. Once eight hours rang, almost everyone was there, except for Bucky. You were sure he'd eventually show up, even though you couldn't help but feel a little anxious while everyone shared champagne bottles.

"Alright, close your eyes," Sam said, dragging you out of your thoughts. He put his hands on your eyes as you giggled softly.

"What is it now, you asked?"

"Patience, lady."

You couldn't see anything – obviously – but you soon heard voices around you singing you a happy birthday. When Sam removed his hands, your eyes took some time to adjust to the sparkling candles on the big birthday cake. More importantly, it took you a second to recognise the man carrying it. Where had his hair gone?

"Your hair," you whispered once he was close enough.

He shrugged. "C'mon, the candles will melt if you don't blow them out." His own smile quickly spread to your face as you blew out your thirty candles. Everyone applauded and Bucky started cutting it so that people could help themselves. Once seated next to him, you took a bite of your own piece and closed your eyes in delight.

"Raspberries. I love those."

"Yeah, Wanda said it was your favourite," he told you before eating a chunk of cake. "How do you like the party so far?"

"I love it. Everyone I love is here, so I couldn't be happier, really." You didn't even think about what you were saying. Tony's champagne did that to you for sure.

"Everyone?"

"Of course, why do you ask?" You gave him a confused look before it dawned on you. "Oh, I know. Well if he's not here by now, I guess that means something."

"Well I'm not the one saying it. It's your night, anyway, so let's not talk about him and let you have fun." He gently poked your arm – you felt delighted, as it was him who'd made the move this time. It felt as if he was becoming more comfortable around you : you'd noticed he'd been laughing with you a lot more frequently these last few days.

"So, why the new haircut?"

"I wanted some change. New me, old me, I guess." He took a sip of his beer.

"I like it. Can I have some?" You pointed at the bottle. He gladly handed it to you ; damn, this man did not know what one beer might do to you, especially after champagne.

Wanda spotted you from across the room and stopped walking towards you, interrupting her conversation with Scott Lang.

"I hope that's your first drink tonight," she said with a grin. "You don't want to expose your party demon now, do you?"

You chuckled at Bucky's scared eyes. "I'm taking this back," he said, taking his beer back and finishing it.

"Don't worry, Bucky. I'm fine. I'm just a little more outgoing when I drink, that is all."

A screeching sound made you turn your head : Steve had just plugged a microphone into the speakers.

"Alright, so, as you all know, tonight's Y/n's thirtieth birthday. For the occasion, I'm sure she'll gladly treat us to a speech now."

If looks could kill, Steve would've died on the spot, super soldier or not. You never had inspiration for that kind of stuff.

"C'mon guys, she needs some encouragement," Sam chimed in.

Tony and Peter both whoo'ed at you with huge smiles, and you had no other choice than going on that improvised stage which consisted of the space between the speakers. You took the microphone from Steve's hand and Nat handed you a beer.

"Oh my, thanks for that," you said, chuckling. "I want to thank you all for coming. You might have known me for a while, or not, but hum...you guys are family. I couldn't be happier to celebrate thirty years on Earth with you." You raised your bottle in front of you. "To found family."

Everyone drank to that, and you jumped as Sam placed his hand on your shoulder and started speaking in another mic.

"So many emotions there, I love to see it. Now we're not done with you. Remember that night in Brooklyn?"

"Oh no."

"Oh, yeah... we're gonna do it. And you're gonna love it, don't you dare say otherwise."

You stared at Sam before downing your drink. He was damn right.

"Okay Scott, fire away!"

"Toniiight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time..." Sam started singing this fabulous bop as the music soared in the air. You obviously joined him right away.

"I'm burning through the skyyyyy, yeah." You probably were not singing right, but you couldn't have cared less. Everyone around you was singing – more like yelling – along and you finally let go of your last inhibitions. You were singing and dancing, pretending you were the international rock star giving a representation. For once, you saw a wide smile on Bucky's face that couldn't seem to go away, and you decided to have fun with him a little. You pointed at him and smiled as you basically jumped to the beat.

"I'm a sex machine ready to reload like an atom bomb about to oh, oh, oh, oh exploooode!"

He couldn't help but laugh and he even started tapping his feet to the beat as well. You went back to Sam and you ended the song back to back, definitely yelling more than you were actually singing.

"See, I told you you'd love it!" he exclaimed.

You laughed out loud before handing the mic to Scott. "You have fun now, I gotta rest for a sec."

You happily got back to Wanda and Bucky as Scott and Sam were joined by Peter to keep this improvised karaoke going. Your sister was less than surprised, since this wasn't the first party she had with you. Bucky, on the other hand...

"I didn't know you could do that," he said with a grin.

"What, absolutely slay the day with a mic in my hand? Hell yeah I can, only after some drinks though."

"Yeah, I don't know if your cheeks are this red from drinks, dancing or just regular blush."

You chuckled at his laugh, even placing your hand on his shoulder while doing so. When your eyes were done squinting from all the laughs, you froze.

"Darren, I-"

"That science guy let me in."

Bruce shot you a sorry look, raising his hands in the air. "He wouldn't let me ask you for your opinion first anyway."

Damn, you hadn't realised how much everyone disliked your husband. After all, no one had ever been rude to his face, unlike his friends. Bucky turned around to face him and crossed his arms over his chest : his smile was long gone now, as if it had been only a fever dream.

"You put on quite a show there."

"Wow, so not even a 'happy birthday', huh?" You didn't even look down this time : you stared at him, no trace of a smile on your lips. "When I said you could come if you wanted to, I didn't say that so you could come and be condescending."

"I'm not gonna wish you a happy birthday after I saw you hit on that guy in a fucking song!" he yelled, pointing at Bucky. Darren's anger was so unjustified that you would've laughed at him, hadn't you been remotely nice and equally angry at him.

Bucky didn't say a word as he slowly put Darren's hand down. You noticed he'd used his metal arm, even though you knew for a fact he was right handed and usually prioritised his dominant hand. That was quite passive-agressive ; you held back a smile.

"Do you even hear what you're saying?" Keeping your cool was not an option anymore, and you walked away from everyone. Contrary to Darren's belief, you didn't like 'putting on a show'.

"We're going home, now," he said firmly. "Your little crisis lasted long enough."

"My crisis? You've left me alone at home for days and now you expect me to come back? You're unbelievable, Darren. And you started pulling this shit before we were even engaged!"

"You never complained about this, so why do it now?"

"Because I can't take it anymore! Is that so hard to believe? Is it hard to understand that I want to be treated the way I deserve?"

You ran a hand through your hair, looking at Darren in disbelief as the anger in his eyes just grew harder.

"You know what?" you continued. "If you have nothing better to say, I might as well just go back to the people who really love me. As far as I'm concerned, this" — you gestured at the both of you – "is over."

You turned around, feeling a huge confidence boost that still wasn't strong enough to overcome your disappointment.

"What's that on your back?" His voice was so low compared to seconds earlier that you looked back at him.

"What?"

He walked up to you fast, but too slowly not to be noticed by Steve and Bucky, who'd been watching the scene carefully. Despite their obvious strength, they couldn't get to you before Darren violently lifted the back of your t-shirt, scratching your back with his nail at the same time. You let out a cry and next thing you knew, Darren was pinned against the wall, held back by Bucky's arm.

"You lied," he whispered. "You do have a tattoo."

Damn. You had always been careful to wear high waisted jeans. All it took was one careless pair of shorts. You had no answer to give to him, so Darren looked at Bucky instead.

"It's you. Right? I fucking knew it." He looked back at you. "I should've known you weren't to be trusted around other guys. You're such a-"

"I think you should leave." Steve had laid his hand on his friend's shoulder to try and calm him down. Bucky let go of your husband and shot you a side glance to check on you. You were crossing your arms on your chest and your eyes had never been more interested in the floor.

"Steve's right," you uttered. "You should go." You walked away with these words. You hadn't even noticed there was no longer any music playing in the room. Silence was oppressing and everyone seeing you cry was not an option. You walked to your room in daze. Once you felt the door closing behind you, you allowed yourself to break down. It was a knock on the door that made you tilt your head up a few minutes later.

--- You have no idea how excited I am for part 9!!! If I wasn't strictly following my self-imposed rule of having two unpublished chapters at all times, I would post it right away. x) I hope you liked this one!! Feel free to give me any notes you may have : I improve thanks to readers.

Message me if you want to be added to the tag list (seeing it grow is making me so happy)!

Tag list :

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02 @coniumalces @writehistorynotthegrocerylist @bluemoon-icecream @lady-loki-ren @simplybombshell

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #james bucky barnes #self insert #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #cacw #catws #fanfiction #x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader

43 notes · View notes

killemwithkawaii · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can i ask what would Sal do if his rich s/o (male if it's possible but you can do female if you are uncomfortable with this) likes to spoil him and always showers him with expensive gift but not like a watch or an expensive pen i mean something like a brand new fully custom rare guitar for his birthday, which was well over 50.000 dollars. If they are hanging out at a shopping mall and Sal looks something more than 2 seconds BAM! it's his now.

Sal with a rich boyfriend who spoils him-

>The man is Uncomfortable

>He's seen how hard most people have to work just to get by, having grown up with a single parent who had to work long, grueling hours at the expense of personal fulfillment just to keep the household afloat. While Sal never went hungry or felt deprived, but he's still never experienced luxury before he met his boyfriend.

> He's used to pinching pennies- DIY haircuts, patching holes in his socks, microwaving last nights leftovers in tupperware to spare a paper plate. Pretty much everything he's ever owned has bought second-hand or on sale, including his guitar and gearboy, and he doesn’t think anything is wrong with that.

>All the fancy stuff his partner introduces him to is very foreign and intimidating. The designer clothes [S/O] gets him feel like costumes more than outfits. He doesn't know how to act around his boyfriends affluent friends when they're invited to parties in mini-mansions or on yachts. He can't relate to their anecdotes about their holidays abroad in Florence and Bora Bora. He's never even been on an airplane before, let alone flown in a private jet just to 'get away' for the weekend...

> He doesn't know how to accept the frequent lavish gifts from [S/O]. He feels kind of guilty just taking said items out of the packaging, let alone using them. He's thankful, of course, but Sal assures [S/O] that he doesn't need these things, and often turns down his offer when [S/O] insists on treating him. He just wants them to spend time together, maybe grab a bite to eat while they're out (at a fast-food place that they can walk to, not a five-star restaurant via limousine).

>But that's exactly why Sals rich [S/O] wants to shower him with gifts and luxuries. He knows that Sal doesn't want him for his money and that his desire for them to be together is motivated by mutual attraction and interest, not in the size of [S/O]s bank account. Sal would like him just the same if he lost his fortune tomorrow, so why not take advantage of it today?

>It also doesn't hurt that Sal, once he gets a little more comfortable utilizing his boyfriends wealth, often wants to use it to help others. It starts out small, buying a meal for a stranger who's down on their luck or making a respectable donation to a local charity. Once the purse strings loosen, it gets a little more personal: He wants to buy Larry a new sound system. He wants to buy Ash a new camera. He wants to buy Todd upgraded ghost-hunting gadgets. He wants to give Lisa some funds to help repair the 5th floor. He wants to buy his dad a new computer (after he accidently fried the old one...).

>It's not until the couple visits a little music store in the city and Sal pauses to admire a near-mint '57 Gibson Les Paul Custom “Black Beauty", the center-piece of the shop, that he simply cannot refuse when [S/O] offers to buy it for him. They had originally gone in to check out some vintage records, but Sal was so drawn to the instrument, with its beautiful ebony finish and renowned warm, dark tones that he couldn't help but gush over, that [S/O] insisted on purchasing it for him on the spot.

"Y... you would really buy this for me? Really?"

"Of course, Sally! It's only a few thousand- I make that in an hour, sometimes less, on a good day. It's just like when you treated us to dinner and appetizers at Olive Garden last week."

"This is not mozzarella sticks and ravioli, [S/O]. Less than 150 of these were ever made, and this one looks like it’s barely been touched. It’s flawless- it even comes with the original case...!"

"Well, it's the equivalent of mozzarella sticks and ravioli to my credit card. And if you'll use it and actually enjoy it, I want you to have it. You deserve it, and I'm happy to get it for you."

>Needless to say, the guitar is no longer mint once Sal gets his hands on it, and his boyfriend is delighted to finally see him enjoying being spoiled for once. 💕

#sally face #sally face imagine #sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher x y/n #romance #K.E.W.K. writes #this was a fun one uwu #spoil the boi he deserves it!!

124 notes · View notes

ayellowcurtain · 3 years

Text

What about Sander who is the dance partner of Robbe’s sister, but when Robbe comes pick her op from the dance studio, he meets Robbe. Sander ends up teaching Robbe how to dance because it will be his prom very soon so he would be able to dance with a girl from his school, but eventualy it will be Robbe and Sander going to the prom together and Robbe will show his footwork on the dance floor while spinning Sander around his finger

“How do I look?” Noor shakes her hair from underneath and everything sits perfectly right under her sharp jawline. Her haircut is so blunt and pitch black and Robbe can’t imagine anyone else rocking it as good as she does.

“So perfect.” He answers honestly and she looks at him through the mirror in front of her, blowing him a kiss and Robbe smiles at his older sister. She really is ridiculously beautiful, Robbe can’t even believe it.

Her makeup is very bright for tonight, almost neon-ish with the eyeshadows and the bright pink blush, so edgy like everything else Noor does. Robbe has a feeling that if it isn’t for her to be the brightest person in the room, Noor wouldn’t even want to go. She likes to dress up and be original and weird in a way, but again, she can rock it like very few others could.

“Not that it matters, really…” She complains, sitting closer to the mirror to put some red lipstick on. Britt and her are still in that weird grey area, Robbe guesses. They went out to talk yesterday but from Noor’s behavior and lack of interest in talking about it with him, he imagines not much changed.

“She’ll be there and you’re kinda hard to miss so I’m sure things will move tonight. Or you will. Finally make a move.”

Robbe tries to keep looking at the computer screen, editing the vlog Jens is waiting for him to send back later today - Jens can be extremely chill about everything but he’s weirdly professional about these videos - but it’s hard to ignore when Noor is staring at you, almost piercing through him so he looks up at her again.

“Look who’s talking. I invited Sander to go to prom with me just so you can stare at him up closer, hoping he’ll finally make a move, any move, a word would be a good start.”

“Shut up.” Robbe closes his laptop, feeling his cheeks get red instantly, his work here is done and Noor doesn’t need to see him blushing because of her close friend yet again. He just needed to keep her company, watch her put on her silky and bright purple dress and do her make up, make some small talk to keep her entertained for the long hours of preparation.

“You’ll talk to him today, I don’t care what it takes.”

Robbe leaves her bedroom door open behind him and rushes to his room, thinking that he should take a shower, be a little more presentable when Sander gets here to pick up his sister. He looks at himself in his bathroom mirror and he feels so stupid and small. He’s too skinny, too small, this long hair that Robbe has no idea what to do with it. It’s impossible to understand how he and Noor are related, made by the same two other beautiful and confident humans.

Before his shower, Robbe puts a bunch of clothes on display on his bed, trying to put together the perfect outfit.

Everything now seems too big, too old and worn out. He decides for the black sweater he stole from Noor that fits him perfectly - that’s why it’s basically brand new, because Robbe thinks it’s too fitted any other day - and his usual black jeans that don’t seem too old. He can’t risk a last minute homemade haircut so he decides to keep it long and natural, messy as usual.

There’s no way Noor will let him get away with hiding in his bedroom tonight so at least he has to try to look decent when the time comes.

Sander adjusts his button-up shirt and runs his hand through the front, trying to get rid of any wrinkles, looking up to not get caught overthinking when someone opens the door suddenly for him.

He was expecting someone else, so he’s left with an open mouth and no words coming out of it when he sees Robbe right there, leaning against the door, trying not to trip with how quickly he opened either.

“Hi…” Sander breathes out, knowing he’s making a fool of himself but unable to stop it.

“Hi...hm, come in.” Robbe opens the door wider and Sander walks in, standing next to the door to wait for Robbe to close it.

��Hi Sander!” He hears their mom screaming from probably the kitchen and he looks in that direction for just a second, not wanting to waste his time when Robbe is looking so beautiful right in front of him, with nobody else close enough to interrupt them.

“Hi!” His voice sounds even worse the second time so he presses his lips together, putting his hands inside his pockets, standing on his tiptoes and then on his heels.

“Noor should be coming down soon…” He nods his head and keeps looking at Robbe. He looks too good for someone that’s just staying inside for tonight.

“You’re going out too?”

“Me? No, no...I have to work on some things for Jens’ video so...yeah.”

Of course he’s busy doing something for Jens. Sander looks down and nods his head, happy he’ll be able to get shitfaced with Noor - and probably Britt - and not think about fucking Jens.

“You look handsome.” Robbe says in an almost whisper and Sander looks up over his lashes, closing his hands inside his pockets.

“Thank you. You look good too for someone that’s staying inside on a Friday night…”

Robbe smiles shyly and Sander imagines himself stepping closer, holding his face and finally just kissing him, for hours, hopefully.

They’re only two years different in age but Robbe looks so angelic, so not deserving of the mess Sander is. And of course he’s Noor’s baby brother, so no matter how small the age difference is, it still feels like Robbe is even younger because he’s Noor’s favorite person in the world and she’s not afraid to treat him like a baby.

The thing Sander would do with that boy…

Noor comes down the stairs almost like she’s reading his disrespectful thoughts about her little brother and Sander feels like he was caught so he looks at her, trying to apologize in his thoughts even though he didn’t do anything wrong yet.

He knows Noor would be happy if they just did it already, kissed and got together like they want to. At least Sander thinks they want to, and he’s been almost sure about it for a year now. Noor tells him that Robbe has the biggest crush on him over and over again and if it was only up for her approval or not, she would be so happy to finally see them together but it still feels like he shouldn’t.

It’s just not that easy to make it happen, it’s safer to keep it platonic. Sander wants Robbe to make a move if he wants to because Sander doesn’t want to pressure him to do anything, to make a choice if he feels like there’s nothing to choose, if they shouldn’t be together.

“You two are so weird.” Noor complains, rolling her eyes, standing next to Sander, calling for her mom to come say goodbye already. She holds his hand in a weird way, no fingers intertwined and the three of them know it means less than nothing but Sander still has to hold himself back from explaining, telling Robbe it means nothing.

“Are you going to take the pictures of us?” Sander asks quietly and Robbe looks at him and then at Noor, laughing sheepishly.

“I guess so.”

“Don’t worry, Robbie. I’ll take good care of him and bring him whole later.”

He laughs and Sander smiles, keeping his eyes on Robbe to watch his full reaction, hoping he won’t disagree. He only nods his head and that’s all Sander needed to make this the best night of his life already. Robbe didn’t correct Noor, didn’t say anything against it and that’s all Sander needed for now.

Sander doesn’t mind early mornings most of the time. His sleeping schedule is not the healthiest, he’s sure but he’s happy he’s getting his solid seven hours of sleep every night, it doesn’t matter if sometimes he goes to bed at 2 or if he wakes up past midday, as long as he slept seven hours, he feels good, safe. It’s been working for him, at least.

Robbe is still asleep and Sander smiles, carefully lying back down next to him, moving slowly on the bed to lie on his side, putting his hand under his cheek, watching Robbe sleep with his mouth slightly open, a hint of dry drool on the corner of his lips, his hair a lot shorter than two years ago, but getting longer, with the curls turning outwards around his face.

It’s finally the big day. The day Sander will go to Robbe’s prom as his date. It’s an inside joke that he’s both Noor’s and Robbe’s date and Sander adores Noor, really, but this is so much better.

He planned the perfect day for them, to celebrate Robbe finally being done with school, but they have the morning free so he’s in no rush to wake up his boyfriend.

While waiting he can hear the rest of the house slowly waking up, the muffled footsteps of their fluffy socks to go downstairs, the wood creaking in every step and Sander is happy they are at the very last floor of the house, away from all the chaos.

Noor is probably the last one to wake up and even though she’s on the second floor beneath them, Sander can still hear her electric toothbrush as she hums a happy song and he hears the stupid laughters of her and Britt trying to be quiet while probably making out in the bathroom with the door open.

Sander sighs, snuggling closer to his boyfriend and Robbe finally gives a small sign that he might be half awake. The thin lines on his cheek appear and he also pushes his hips and the rest of his body follows, resting right in between Sander’s arms, his warm breath hitting Sander’s bare chest directly.

“So you’re awake…”

It takes a long but not heavy second for Robbe to answer with his eyes still very much closed, “For a minute.”

He wraps his arms around Sander’s waist, low whines slipping out of his mouth as a silent complaint of how little Sander is helping him move his body closer.

“It’s still kinda early, you can sleep a little more.” He finally gives in, wrapping them both in a mess of heavy and comfortable limbs tangled together, making sure they’re both still covered by Robbe’s weighted comforter.

“I was dreaming about you.” Robbe leaves a trail of soft kisses from the angle between his collarbone and neck all the way behind his ear.

“Yeah? What was I doing? If you’re allowed to tell me that…”

Robbe smiles against his neck, putting his head back on his pillow, finally opening his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to get used to the sunlight clearly ignoring his closed yellow curtains completely.

“You were extremely impressed by my dance moves.”

Sander snorts and that makes Robbe’s head instantly move to look up at him.

“What?” Robbe tries not to smile too.

“Your dance moves?” Sander lifts his eyebrows, playing with the curls cupping Robbe’s ear. They’ve only been together for a few months, but Sander is sure Robbe has absolutely no dance moves.

“I’m a good dancer, Sander!”

“Cutie, I love you so much, but there’s no way you can dance. I can’t dance either so it’s fine! Were we dancing well?”

Robbe doesn’t answer, but he’s still looking at Sander, his eyes moving to see every inch of his face.

“What?”

“You said you love me. Very much.”

Sander opens and closes his mouth. He said these words so many times in his head he completely forgot they never said it out loud.

Everytime Robbe laughs wholeheartedly, or when he snuggles closer to Sander when they’re ready to go to sleep, when he’s actually hearing Sander go on and on about Bowie or art in general, when Robbe is brushing his teeth still half asleep every morning, when he opens his arms wide, sitting in front of Sander on his bike, when he’s a very talkative drunk.

Everytime Sander stares and thinks about how much he loves Robbe. He thought he had said it out loud before.

“It’s not a lie…” He tries to go the easier route first to test the waters, now too aware that he said that he loved Robbe and he didn’t hear anything back yet, still playing with that one curl and Robbe holds his face carefully with one hand, making Sander look in his eyes, “I love you, Robbe. I’m not afraid to use these words lightly with you.”

He doesn’t doubt that Robbe loves him back, it would be impossible to think that when Robbe looks at him like he’s doing right now.

With his soft eyes going even softer, brighter, pressing his thin lips together, smiling so wide that every line to his dimples appear, a bright pink starting to pool on his cheekbones. And Robbe has this thing he does unconsciously that’s between a purr and a pleased whine that he does often when he’s this close to Sander. He gently touches Robbe’s dimple with his fingertips, drawing a line to his ear like he’s trying to make Robbe open his smile wider.

“I love you too, Sander.”

He looks at Robbe and just takes the moment in, hearing him say it back, it feels amazing, but also so very normal. He knew Robbe felt it anyway. It feels like sunbeams during a blue-sky-winter-morning.

The morning breaths don’t bother him when he kisses Robbe, turning his body a little to rest over Robbe’s naked chest, slipping his arm down, trying to lift the heavy comforter so he can fully go under it when the door is wide open out of nowhere.

“My baby is graduating!” Sander looks over his shoulder while quickly taking his hand from under the comforter to find Noor at the door holding a trait with their breakfast, Britt right behind her, smiling shyly, both of them wearing very similar and small pajamas, the same haircut, and Britt follows Noor inside, both of the girls sitting on Robbe’s bed, almost pushing him to sit up right away, ruining every plan Sander had of giving Robbe an early and very nice graduation gift.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #robbe x sander #sobbe #noor bauwens #britt ingelbrecht

81 notes · View notes

sunsetcurbed · 3 years

Text

you showed me faith is not blind (miracles happen)

Pairing: Alex/Willie Words: 5,686 Rating: T Chapter Warnings: none Chapter: 4/11 read on AO3

Chapter Summary: “Tell me about it, stud,” Willie grins, reaching up to brush something off of Alex’s shoulder.

Alex feels his face growing hot. Did—did Willie just call him a stud? In front of all of their friends? He looks at their friends who are all grinning wide—such a non-reaction that Alex is sure his must have imagine Willie’s words—and then back to Willie. “What?”

“What?” Luke cries. “Have you never seen Grea—has he never seen Grease?”

(*)

Alex regrets telling his grandmother that they could start lessons on Monday.

Their gig at Drake's goes from nine until half past ten, at which point another band takes the stage. While their parents are all there (all have to be there in order for them to even be able to play the gig) to drive them home right after, all of them are too amped up to fall asleep. They stay up until nearly three texting each other, first about the gig, and then about everything and nothing. Unfortunately, this means minimal sleep, as Alex's alarm comes to life only three hours later at quarter 'til six. Then it's seven and a half hours of school, and now—now…

"Why are you wearing joggers to school? To the Beasiga consulate?" his grandmother asks, and he thinks she does a great job hiding the horror with exasperation in her voice. She gives herself away with the dramatic hand to her chest, though.

Alex sighs and lifts a hand to rub at his eyes. "I had a long night, sorry. I didn't even look at what I was putting on this morning."

His grandmother huffs. She drops her hand from her chest, shaking her head as she looks him up and down. "Dear, you've got to care about how you present yourself, tired or not. Even were you not a prince, this is an important life skill—how you present yourself influences those around you. How they treat you, how they act, and especially what they think. How you choose to dress is how you choose to portray yourself. And it influences you as well. You would feel much more confident in a pair of well-fitted trousers, wouldn't you? And on that note—your hair."

Alex frowns. "My hair?" He reaches up and runs his fingers through it. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Well, nothing really. But do you not think you could shape it up some? Use some product?"

Alex pulls a face.

His grandmother looks at him. "I'll call in my stylist. How's Thursday? We'll get you set with a new wardrobe and new hair, all right?"

"Wait a minute—"

"If you don't like it you can go back to wearing your old clothes," she waves him off, "and your hair will grow back, won't it? Just give it a chance, will you?"

Alex isn't sure if it's because she's making fair points or if he's really, really tired, but he nods. "Yeah, okay."

Which is then how he finds himself sitting in the ballroom of the consulate three days later as Tasha—his grandmother's stylist—unclips the barber's cape from behind his neck and throws it off of him. He watches as it, and the rest of his hair that had fallen on to it, falls to the floor. He feels bad for whoever has to clean this room later. He's not given the chance to feel bad for too long though, because Tasha is spinning the chair around to face the mirror. He looks up and—

It's actually. Not that bad.

The sides are a little too short for him, and he's going to hate using product every morning to get it to stand up, but… it looks normal. It looks good.

"Wow," he says, for Tasha, Alden, and his grandmother's benefit. "I like it."

"Oh, wonderful!" his grandmother exclaims, clapping her hands together while rising to her feet. "Tasha, thank you for all your work today."

"Of course, ma'am," Tasha says, curtseying politely. "It is always my pleasure to work with you, you must know."

"I do," she smiles, and takes the hand that Tasha holds out to her in hers and nods once. "Thank you, dear. I will contact you for my hair for the dinner in a few weeks as well, is that all right with you?"

"Yes, that's fine. And it was my pleasure, ma'am," Tasha says again, and then she's gone, and Alex is alone with his grandmother while Alden escorts Tasha out.

His grandmother walks up, standing behind the chair and placing her hands on his shoulders. She makes eye contact with him through the mirror and smiles. "Do you know what I think?" she asks. He hums a question. "You look like a prince."

He holds back a grimace at those words and assesses himself in the mirror. He's wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a pale pink henley with the sleeves of the shirt pushed up nearly to his elbow. Half of him thinks that he looks like every asshole he's ever wanted to punch for catcalling Julie and Flynn when they were out walking around LA, half of him… kind of agrees with his grandmother. Now that he knows he's technically a prince, and now that he is dressed like this, and presented like this… he can see it.

It scares him.

"Uh, yeah," he agrees. "The clothes aren't half bad, either." They're not. They're really, really not. The clothes Tasha had thrown at him this afternoon were just regular looking clothes, albeit most of them are designer brand, but they're just… picked out for him, fitted to him, and then put together for him so he doesn't have to worry about whether or not something will match.

"You like them then?" his grandmother asks.

Alex nods, lifting his arms and looking down to study his current outfit again. "I do. Not as… posh as I was expecting."

She laughs brightly, and squeezes his shoulders. "No, of course not, Alexander. I know you're still in high school. I would never want to make you stand out. No. No, the goal here was to give you more confidence in yourself, that would never work if you felt you were dressed in some rubbish outfit that stood out at your school." She takes a deep breath and releases it. "Ah! I'm so glad you like it! You must tell me what your friends think tomorrow."

(Huh.

It scared him before.

He's terrified now.)

He doesn't have to wait long to find out what his friends think. His bus gets to the school seven almost every day—today is no different. Reggie and Flynn live on the same street and take the same but which always gets there two or three minutes after Alex's. Luke drives, and since he and Julie live a block away from each other, he gives her a ride. They're almost always there five minutes after seven, sometimes earlier, sometimes later. Willie drives himself but he's a toss up as to when—or if—he'll show up each day because of his other friends. Classes don't start until 7:22, and, apart from Willie, their lockers are all in the same bay, and their first classes are all in the same two wings that are right next to each other, so they all spend their mornings together. So Alex knows that it won't be long before—

"Look at you, buddy!" Luke yells, jumping on to Alex's back, one arm wrapping around Alex's shoulder and neck to cling for dear life, while the other musses up Alex's styled hair. Shit, he should have expected that. Maybe he should have left it unstyled for the first few days. "Lookin' all fancy like, lookin' all—"

"Luke, get off of him," Julie commands, and Alex feels himself sway back. He grabs on to the inside of his locker so Julie pulling Luke off of Alex's back won't pull him over, too. A few seconds later, Luke drops off his back, and Alex stands up straight again. He turns to glare at Luke who is smiling innocently. Julie steps forward from beside her boyfriend and reaches a hand toward Alex's head. "Here, let me," she says, and then starts running her fingers through Alex's hair, tugging it until it's in place again. When she's done she wipes her hands on her jeans and steps back. "There. Back to normal before this one had to ruin it. It looks good! New clothes too?"

"Uh, yeah," Alex nods, shifting on his feet and pushing his sleeves up his arms, just to have something to do with his hands. It doesn't occupy them for long, so they drop back uselessly to his side. "My, uh. Grandma. She? She wanted to—she wanted to uh, spoil me a bit, I guess?"

"Dude, you should have asked for a new kit," Luke tells him.

Julie roles her eyes and throws a backhand into his gut. "Alex just got a new kit in March, Luke."

"Yeah, but wouldn't it be awesome if he had two? Then he could keep one at the studio and at his house."

"I, uh, don't think my mom would've let me get away with that, since she didn't even let me keep the old one," Alex makes up. "It's whatever. The clothes are cool, too, I guess."

"Hey, buddy!" Reggie's voice breaks in. "What happened to you?"

"Wow, Alex," Flynn adds, "are you getting… fancy—" she winks "—for someone?"

"Wh—? No. It—my grandma bought me stuff, took me for a haircut, she just wanted to do something nice for me."

"She did something nice for someone," Flynn grins, looking at Julie, who shares a look with her best friend. Alex wants to ask but at the same time, he really does not.

Julie mumbles something under her breath to Flynn. She then looks over Alex's shoulder and her smile widens. "Oh! Speaking of…"

Alex furrows his eyebrows together and twists around preparing for something potentially humiliating, only to relax immediately when he sees Willie. Willie's smile falters when he must see Alex's new look and his step stutters, but he recovers quickly and he offers a wide smile when he makes eye contact with Alex. Alex can feel the smile grow on his own face. "Hey," he says once Willie is close enough to hear.

"Tell me about it, stud," Willie grins, reaching up to brush something off of Alex's shoulder.

"What?" Luke cries. "Have you never seen Grea—has he never seen Grease?" he demands, turning to Julie. Julie sighs heavily, reaching up to pat Luke's chest, as he rambles to her something about a missed experience and movie night and she's the one that he wants. Alex gives him a look, and then turns back to Willie.

"Sorry, I guess. If that was a reference, I didn't get it."

"No worries, bro," Willie says. He looks at the rest of the group. "We should have a movie night though, if only to keep Luke from premature death."

"Thank you!" Luke shouts. "Do we want to do it tonight or tomorrow?"

"Luke's taking no prisoners on this one," Reggie leans over and says as an aside to Willie and Alex, still clearly loud enough for Luke to hear. He leans back upright and looks at Luke, "I'm good for either."

"Same," Flynn says.

"I'll be with my grandma this evening," Alex says. "So tomorrow would probably work best."

Luke raises an eyebrow. "You'll be with her all night?"

"I go over after school and I'm there until seven. So if we do it tomorrow we'll have more time," Alex explains, hoping they won't think too much into the amount of time he's spending with her and why it's so structured. But, well. Non-princes have structured visits with their grandparents too, right? He honestly can't remember. His last grandparent passed away when he was twelve.

"Saturday it is then," Julie decides. "That work for you, Willie?"

"Yeah, I can make that work," he says. "You guys finish practice at four, right?"

"Yeah, we usually aim for somewhere around there," Julie confirms. "So you can come over any time after four."

"Right," he nods, and snaps his fingers, instantly turning them into finger guns, pointing them at Flynn. "You want a ride, then?"

"Please," Flynn says, and Willie nods, reaching forward to high five her. When their hands collide, she clasps his hand in hers. "We can make our own band in the ride over too."

"Ooh," Willie cringes, "not sure if you want me in your band. Unless you just want me to dance for you. I've got that covered no problem, but anything beyond that, I—" he makes a face and pulls his hand back from hers to drag it across his neck in a cutting motion (even though Alex knows he can sing). "No go."

"Fine," Flynn huffs. "I guess we can let them have their thing."

"Oh, that's sweet," Reggie hums, propping an arm on Flynn's shoulder—the only one who could ever dream of getting away with that. "Did you hear that guys? She's going to let us have our thing."

"How considerate," Julie coos.

Alex holds up his hands in a show of innocence. "I'm an innocent bystander if Luke murders Flynn for calling our band a thing."

"I wasn't going to murder her," Luke rolls his eyes, shoving at Alex's shoulder.

"Maiming her is also a crime," Willie adds.

The group around Alex laughs and Alex feels his chest expand, happy to be with his people. It's not that prince lessons have been horrible, but they've definitely taken a lot out of him this week, especially being added on top of his schoolwork. He barely has time to talk to his friends anymore, let alone be with them like this. Even at lunch he's been working on homework, just so it's more that he doesn't have to do later that night. They've all been great about it—offering to help with his homework, catching him between classes just to get in their four minute conversations, and staying up a few minutes later than normal to text with him when he finally finishes homework for the night. But… this. The entire presence of the entire group is just rejuvenating and Alex is angry that he's only got a few minutes of it left. But he's going to soak it up for as long as he can, because he knows that he owes his happiness to his friends and right now, he's really happy.

At lunch, he's busy doing his math assignment, even though it's Friday. With band practice and the movie night tomorrow, and prince lessons on Sunday, he's not sure how much time he'll have this weekend for his homework. He's sure his grandmother would cut back on the lessons if needed, but if he can get it done at school just as easily, he might as well. He's hunched over his book and worksheet while his friends all make noise around him, Reggie jostling him every once in a while. Willie, however, never once bumps into Alex even though Alex can see Willie stand up multiple times to reach across the table to wrestle something away that Luke has stolen from him. It's surprisingly easy to get his work done despite the chaos. His anxiety drives him, causing him to hyper fixate on his work, but that also means that, like Tuesday, he forgets to eat.

The bell rings and Alex snaps his head up looking around him, his nearly completed math assignment still under his pencil. His friends are all getting up. Reggie grabs the piece of pizza off of Alex's tray and shoves it in his mouth. He mumbles around the food in his mouth, that only years of hearing Reggie speak with food in his mouth allows Alex to make out "you snooze you lose." He is, however, at least decent enough to throw away the tray of the food that he ate, so Alex doesn't complain too much.

He closes his worksheet in his math book, bookmarking the page where he left off, and slips the book into his backpack. He moves to stand up, but as he spins on the bench, he realizes Willie is still sitting next to him. When they make eye contact, Willie flicks his eyebrows up and down and smiles. "Back with us, hot dog?"

"Yeah. Sorry for ignoring you guys, I just—"

"Hey, no, that's not—" He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a bag of trail mix. "You didn't eat Tuesday, kind of assumed it was going to happen again at some point so I came prepared. Now at least you'll have something, dude."

Alex takes the pack from him and wills his face not to burst into flames and nods. "Yeah, thanks, Willie."

They both stand up and walk out of the cafeteria, heading towards their classes. When they reach the D wing, where Willie is meant to turn and Alex is meant to continue straight, Willie grabs Alex's hand and pulls him through the group of students to the wall. Alex follows confused, but willing, and frowns at Willie when Willie turns to him and leans against the wall. "D'you think your grandma would let me pick you up today instead of having her guard dogs take you home?" Willie asks.

"Huh? Why?"

Willie shrugs, nonchalant. "Haven't gotten to talk to you outside of text all week, and even text has been pretty sparse. I know you're busy, I get it, I do. But I kinda just wanna hang."

"What about tomorrow?"

Willie scoffs. "Come on, it's gonna go like every other movie night we have after band practice—you're going to make it through the first movie, which, by the way Luke's not going to let us talk through since you've never seen Grease before, and then you're going to be asleep within the first thirty minutes of the next."

"I will not—I won't—I—whatever," Alex mutters. He wants to refute it, but he can't drudge up a memory to do so. "I'll talk to my grandma. I don't see why it should be an issue."

"Great," Willie grins. "Have a great rest of your day, yeah? Text me the answer and address." He glances at the clock. "And you might wanna hurry to class too." Alex looks at the clock and curses, turning and rushing down the hall. He makes it to class with a few seconds to spare, and the anxiety of nearly being tardy morphing into the immediate focusing on class doesn't let him think too much on his potential… hang with Willie later.

When he gets to lessons that day, he asks his grandmother later if Willie can pick him up and she tells him yes. So at seven he bids goodbye to her, Alden, and John, the head of security. Willie's car is parked in the driveway and, just like last Friday when he came to pick him up just down the street, it looks entirely out of place in this neighborhood. Alex doesn't care. He gets in the car, placing his backpack on the floor, and buckles himself in. Willie had started driving as soon as he shut the door, so when Alex looks up, they're already turned out of the driveway. "Where to, then?"

"I'm not sure," Willie shrugs. "I didn't plan that far ahead."

"You're a horrible date," Alex jokes, sinking further into his seat.

Willie casts a look at Alex. "Yeah?" he grins.

"The worst."

"Well I guess I just have to step up my game then," Willie hums, and flicks his turn signal on to switch lanes. It seems like he's made his mind up where they were going. "So how's school been—how did your midterms go? Junior year kicked my ass, and I didn't have the added pressure of learning to become a prince."

Alex laughs, but starts talking about his classes and what he got on his midterms, before asking Willie about his classes as well, and about what Alex should expect next year. About twenty minutes later, Willie is pulling into a parking lot, pulling out his wallet as he does so he can pay. Alex looks around at where they are and frowns. They're near Venice Beach but not at Venice Beach, so Alex isn't sure what Willie's plan is here. However, there's a parking lot here, so Alex figures there must be something of significance.

They get out of the car and right away Willie leads him in one direction and, well, it all makes sense then.

"Seriously?" Alex groans.

"What, hot dog?" Willie asks, turning to him, holding his arms out at his sides. "Are you not impressed with my date?"

"This is the most cliché Los Angles date," Alex tells him, taking a few longer strides so he can catch up to Willie, who's walking up on one side of the Venice Canals.

"Is it? Is it really? Because by the look on your face you didn't even know where we were until just now. I think I'm winning at this whole date thing."

All right.

They really need to stop saying 'date' before Alex starts to get his hopes up. They're already up enough as it is—adding in banter about their non-existent date is… not helping him.

"Just because I've never been here before—"

"You've never been here before?"

"No. My parents don't really do tourist-y places," he says.

A smile spreads on Willie's face. "Oh, that probably means I have more date material, doesn't it? All the tourist spots you've missed out on your entire life?"

Alex hums, and doesn't comment, because fuck, stop saying date.

"This was actually my parents first date, too," Willie says, and Alex's mind malfunctions at the 'too.' Sorry, too? Too? He runs Willie's words back in his head. Yeah, he definitely said too. "They met at Venice Beach and decided to keep their first date close to where they met since they thought maybe it was lucky or something." Too. "That's what my mom says, anyways. My dad always laughs when she says that, never agrees, but never disagrees, either. I definitely don't agree, I don't think Venice is lucky or anything." Too. "I do think it's a good spot though, cliché or not. You can't deny that it's a great place, right? So, c'mon, hot dog. You can go on and admit that I'm actually the best date."

Alex laughs. He hopes it's just him that it sounds off to. "Not a chance, puka. A date isn't just the location, you know."

Willie quirks his eyebrows and pokes his tongue in his cheek. "You're right." He reaches over, grabs Alex's hand, and tugs. They start walking the canals and Alex expects Willie to drop his hand but he doesn't. "I can't ask first date questions since we already know everything about each other—" first date. Alex is maybe panicking. "—so you gotta help me out here. What don't I know about you?"

Alex's brain is currently short-circuiting, so thinking of these things isn't easy for him at the moment. He takes a minute to really think about everything that Willie knows about him and says, "I actually like the sofritas at Chipotle more than the steak. When Julie told me it had more sugar it ruined my whole 'it's healthier' disguise."

"Dude, I know that," Willie laughs. "You devour sofritas. No, that doesn't count. Something else."

"I hoard books. I've literally got over a thousand books. I have three book shelves in my room and—"

"No, I knew that, too. I've been to the bookstore with you, and I've seen your room on Snapchat. Something else, man, dig deep."

"Okay, here," Alex starts. "No one knows—well, actually Julie probably knows at this point. But Reggie and Flynn don't—"

"Luke does?"

"I'm getting there," Alex says. He pauses. "He was my first kiss. And second and third and—a lot. We didn't… date? But both of us wanted… practice."

"Really," Willie whistles. "When was this? I thought he's been all eyes for Julie since he met her?"

"Yeah but they didn't get together until sophomore year. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he was practicing for her," Alex admits. "I didn't care. It was just… nice, at the time."

"Huh. Well, yeah, okay, definitely didn't know that one," Willie acknowledges.

"Yeah," Alex laughs, "like I said, no one does."

"All right, your turn."

"You're not just going to answer?"

"You wanna ask the same question then? Something you don't know about me?"

"Oh." Alex looks down at the ground. In the corner of his eye he can see their hands swinging together. He looks towards them. They look completely fine even though it feels like his hand is on fire. "Uh," he clears his throat, and looks back up, looking at Willie. "If you could talk to any animal, what would it be?"

Willie's step falters and Alex opens his mouth, about to take it back, ask for a redo, when, "like, any species of animal, or like, a single… one animal, like, say I had a pet dog, I could only talk to that pet dog?"

"Like, a species?" Alex says, voice lilting into a question.

Willie hums, thoughtful, but he looks genuinely into the question, so Alex doesn't ask to take it back even though he feels like it had been a ridiculous question. Willie's face is so focused that Alex doesn't want to break him out of it. After a minute, he picks his head up from where he'd been watching the ground as they walked, and looks over at Alex with a confident look on his face. "Crows. Hands down. They're supposed to be one of the smartest animals out there. Did you know they understand water displacement? Like, scientists did an experiment where they put treats in water in long, skinny test tubes and gave the crows objects. They-they figured out that the heavier the object, the higher the treat rose. They learn safe and dangerous places to go, and they can remember good and bad people, and hold grudges against bad people and even pass those grudges down through generations. And they, sometimes they hold funerals? Which I think is really cool of them. They're can make their own tools or use things around them—there are crows that drop nuts in the street during red lights in path of car tires, let the cars run the nuts over, wait for the light to turn red again, and then go get the food. They just… they seem so cool, y'know? I'd love to talk to something that intelligent that isn't human."

In the second that it takes Alex to blink, he falls even further in love with Willie. Alex… can't believe that Willie is real. He took Alex's dumbass question and ran with it and didn't give some half-assed answer like most everyone else would have done. He put genuine thought into a inane question and even before he answered he had made Alex feel relaxed for asking a question that Alex had thought was dumb. Alex feels so at ease around Willie, even when he does something foolish like ask a completely out of place question, and Willie just… makes him feel like it's okay. Willie makes him feel like it's not an out of place question.

"Alright, sticking with the animal theme, if you could be an animal for one day—what day?"

Willie really makes him feel like it's not an out of place question.

"I—" Alex goes to answer the question, then narrows his eyes. Well that's not how he expected the question to end. He looks over at Willie and sees his shoulders shaking as he giggles to himself. He goes with it, just like Willie had. "Is it every week or just this upcoming day?"

"Hm. Every week."

"Sunday," Alex decides. "It'd get me out of the seven hour lessons I have coming up every Sunday for the next month and half for the foreseeable future and after that… wait, is this like… a werewolf situation where like… Sunday, boom, I'm an animal? Or do I get to like, change at will?"

"Let's go on the side of chaos. Boom, you're an animal."

"Oh, great. That's fun. That's awesome. I hope I'm not a dangerous animal."

"Nah, man," Willie grins, bringing his hand that's not holding on to Alex's and swinging it to bump Alex in the chest. "You'd be a golden retriever. But like, one who wasn't taken out enough as a puppy, you know? So you're scared of shit."

"Makes sense. Yeah, though, still Sunday. Gets me out of lessons. And it can't be Saturdays because of band practice, and I can't miss a day every week of school a year, so. Sunday is the only option. Plus maybe my parents would stop giving me disappointed looks every time I didn't go with them to church. I can't Mom, Dad, I'm on four paws and slobbering."

Willie swings their hands exaggeratedly between them. "Who knows? Maybe if you were a dog they'd have an excuse to clip a leash to you and literally drag you to church." Alex looks at Willie, horror on his face. Willie laughs. "Alright. Your turn."

He looks back ahead. He dodges out of the way of a couple that's passing them, which means he has to press his body closer to Willie's. When they separate again, his mind is going so fast he can't keep up. He tries to think of something, tries to come up with anything. "What are you most proud of?"

Willie's eyebrows go up. Alex thinks he's asked another stupid question for a second until, "huh. That's a good question. I'm… not sure? Obviously I'm really proud of my dancing, I'm really proud of my grades, my dedication to my work… I'm really proud of my skateboarding. I've come a long way with that, and it's… you know my skateboarding is like… is like my happy place. But I also don't skateboard to show off or for a job? So saying that I'm most proud of it doesn't feel right." He looks over at Alex and studies him. He tilts his head, and then looks back out at the path they're following again. "I'm proud of my friendship," he decides. "I'm proud when the kids at the skate park come to me when they need help with a trick, or when they want to show off a new trick. And when Flynn and Julie ask me to help them prank you guys. And when Reggie feels safe enough to tell me about his parents fighting again, and takes me up on my offer to hang out at midnight just to get him out of the house. And when Luke asks my opinion on a new song and genuinely cares about my opinion. And when I help you through a panic attack, and see you come back to yourself and know that you're okay. And—and just hanging with you guys, making you smile, making you laugh. I'm proud of that."

He feels overwhelmed for a moment, but when it passes, he feels so genuinely grateful to have a friend like Willie. To have someone who is not only willing to help him through his darkest moments, but is proud to do so, who isn't ashamed or embarrassed to be associated with the kid who has anxiety. He's grateful that his friends have someone like Willie: that Flynn and Julie have another mind to help them—with school as well as their pranks. And Willie not only helps Reggie with his parents, but sometimes Reggie will see Willie playing with a fidget toy and a few days later at lunch Willie will toss it to Reggie, holding up a new one saying his parents had accidentally gotten him two. Then with Luke, Willie helps him get away from music and just exist in the world and he's one of only five people who can do that, so that's amazing enough on it's own. And with Alex, Willie is there through the hard times, yes, but Alex loves most when they're celebrating the good times together because that's when Alex can appreciate it the most. It's just—Willie's incredible, he's an incredible friend, and Alex is so glad that Willie knows that.

"I think I asked the better questions," Alex murmurs, at a loss for anything else to say. But, Alex really does think he asked the better questions in the end, even if they had been dumb. Or, maybe he didn't ask the better questions; maybe Willie just had the better answers. He feels like he got so much more out of Willie than Willie got out of him and for a second, he feels guilty. This had been Willie's idea—Willie had been the one who had wanted to find out more about Alex. Alex will just have to find ways to disperse pieces of himself into the rest of their conversation today to make up for it.

Willie tips his head back and laughs. "Uh-uh, no way. My first question got out of you that your first kiss was Luke Patterson. Clearly the superior question." Alex groans and drops his head. "Yours were a close second and third, I'll give you that."

Alex huffs, feeling his face heat up. "I'll just think of a better question."

"Nothing is going to beat finding out that Patterson was your first kiss," Willie says, squeezing his hand. It sends a jolt through Alex, and reminds him that they are, in fact, still holding hands. That they are walking around Venice Canals holding hands. On a "date." Oh, fuck him. He looks over at Willie who is looking back at him with a smug grin on his face. "So. Your Royal Highness—" Alex groans, and Willie laughs "—what exactly have you been doing at those lessons of yours?"

#willex #willex fic #willex fanfic #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #ysmfinb #my writing

37 notes · View notes

ranma-rewatch · 3 years

Text

Episode 27: P-Chan Explodes! The Icy Fountain of Love!

I’m...kind of sad to be here. We’re at the end of the Martial Arts Figure Skating arc. But all good things must come to an end, and I remember absolutely loving where this one goes. Will that till be the case? I have no clue, so next paragraph you can join me after I’ve rewatched the episode!

Okay so...that was still good. Definitely good. But...we’ll get into it later.

The episode once again picks off where the last left off, with Ranma making an epic declaration of his official relationship status with Akane and how he won’t let Mikado touch her. This tends Akane into a bit of a tizzy, but Mikado and Azusa laugh. It’s revealed that they’re known as more than just the Golden Pair, an unbeatable skating duo. They also have a reputation for splitting up the couples they fight.

They quickly set up their finisher which is made to do just that: the Goodbye Whirl (called the Break-Up Merry-Go-Round in the sub). It’s an absolutely ridiculous move that I love to death: it involves getting one of their opponents to grab the other, and then Azusa grabs one. Mikado lifts her and both opponents all into the area and twirl around as quickly as it can. The move always ends when one of the people in the relationship betrays the other, ending them flying in a bid to save themselves.

But that isn’t how it works this time around. While Akane is begging Ranma to let go of her, so he can be okay, Ranma refuses, making it clear he’s not going to let go. They hold on so long that Azusa gets busy and breaks contact, sending Ranma and Akane flying.

It looks like Akane’s going to be crashing into the rink wall, but Ranma maneuvers to take the damage instead. Akane cries over his seemingly unconscious form, calling him an idiot, when Ranma opens his eyes. It seems like he’s just fine, but just standing up causes him enough pain to make him start crying.

While all of that was going on, Ryoga managed to escape from his bondage and tries to pull off a cunning plan: dousing Ranma with water before jumping in and taking over as Akane’s partner. It only has one hiccup: he grab the wrong “girl”, and ends up throwing Akane out of the ring while taking Ranma in his cursed form as his partner.

The crowd isn’t happy with this change, even if Mikado is all too happy to fight this version of Ranma. They’re not upset about the substitution though, just that their costumes aren’t up to snuff. Luckily, there’s a whole fashion department waiting in the wings, who sweep in and fit the two for new outfits.

That done, it becomes apparent that Ryoga still doesn’t know how to skate, and so he and Ranma are easily taken into the Goodbye Whirl, and no matter what Ranma/Ryoga shippers tell you they don’t have the same bond that Ranma does with Akane. In no time at all, Ryoga socks Ranma in the face to betray him, and we get to see how the move is supposed to work: Azusa ensures the betrayer is smashed into the ice face-first, while Mikado picks up the “damsel in distress” to romance on the rebound.

Of course, this doesn’t really work well with Ranma, but even worse is that Azusa sees the collar on Ryoga’s neck and realizes that he must be Charlotte. This makes Ranma laugh, but sends Ryoga into terror. After all, Akane’s not far away, and he doesn't want her to know he’s actually her pet pig.

When Mikado tries to actually get back into the fight, Azusa smashes him with a mallet, since she doesn’t want Ryoga hurt now that she knows he’s Charlotte. (What a sentence.) The blow is so powerful that it shatters the ice rink, and sends Mikado out of the match on a stretcher. That means Ranma and Ryoga won...except now Ryoga wants to fight Ranma.

As the ice rink goes truly haywire, with water shooting out as geysers and freezing mid-air, they take the fight outside, ultimately going to a nearby pool. Akane follows, trying to get them to stop and demanding to know why they feel the need to keep fighting each other whenever they can. Akane falls into the pool, and when the fighters realize that she can’t swim, they dive down together to save her...with Ryoga realizing mid-jump that the water will activate his curse.

Akane wakes up later, recovering from nearly drowning, to hear that P-Chan helped pull her out of the water. Oh, and Genma in his panda form was adopted by Azusa as another cute animal named “Oscar” and he actually blushes at being called cute. End of storyline.

Let me try a compliment sandwich with this one. To start with, I just adore the chaos of this episode. Like I said before, the Goodbye Whirl is the kind of awesome, silly wonderfulness I come to Ranma 1/2 for in the first place. I love that we get to see it fail against Ranma and Akane, then succeed with him and Ryoga. The fact the fight quickly dissolves from there into utter nonsense, with the rink exploding and the fight going outdoors, it just feels fun and satisfying.

Speaking of satisfying, the fighting in this and the previous episode is all really well done. This is definitely a romantic comedy series, first and foremost, but I love how when they take the time for a martial arts match it can still feel kinetic and fluid and visually stimulating. The ice skating makes it all the more interesting, and just watching something as simple as Mikado circling the rink after being thrown aside is enjoyable.

It’s also a really funny episode. The conflicts between Ranma and Akane, Ranma and Ryoga, Ranma and Mikado, Mikado and Azusa, they all mix and spin and stir into a beautiful concoction, with both barbs and slapstick aplenty to amuse.

Now...into the less fun bits. To start with, as much as I enjoy the Ranma/Akane content in this episode, which yes I’ll talk a bit more about that later, there’s also a bit too much here in terms of jealousy and possessiveness, especially on Ranma’s part. I know it’s kind of a recurring part of the series, but I really dislike jealousy being framed as romantic, because it’s honestly not a healthy emotion and not a sign of a good relationship.

This next complaint is less solid, but it affects my feelings of the episode anyway. I...seem to have massively mis-remembered this episode? For some reason, I have very vivid memories that, once it becomes more Ranma vs Ryoga and the Golden Pair are out of the picture, that they fought on the broken rink.

Like, I can picture them struggling to stay on top of icy platform, with Ryoga especially trying to avoid falling into the water, and Akane interfering and like...what is going on there? Is that from another episode, and I mixed it up with this storyline? Or did my brain just make that up wholesale in the decade since I last saw this show?

Either way, it kind of sucks because...that felt more epic than what did happen? It’s strange to hold it against the show for failing to match the fake memories I made, but I dunno what to tell you, I can’t help being at least a little sad about this.

Okay, done with that stuff, back to what I like. Yes, there’s some tasty content here for my Ranma/Akane loving heart, and I ate it up. It was also nice seeing Ranma actually take damage from someone else’s move. He tends to be so much better than a lot of his opponents that they never really stand a chance of hurting him, but the Goodbye Whirl really came close to downing him.

Before we leave this storyline behind, it’s time to give a little Character Spotlight to the other half of the Golden Pair, Azusa Shiratori! Her Japanese voice actress is Naoko Matsui, and...the only other role I really recognize on her page is Monet from One Piece, but she’s been in a lot of stuff. In English, she’s played by Cathy Weseluck, who is also Shampoo. So check out Shampoo’s spotlight to see what other roles she’s done.

They both play Azusa pretty similarly, high-pitched and cutesy, but I think Cathy might actually play it up a little too much? But maybe that’s just because it’s the language of the two that I actually speak.

I was never a huge fan of Azusa to start with, just because she’s a bit...much. The combination of her high-pitched voice, third-person speak, repetitious dialogue, and extreme cutesiness is all just a lot. It’s just the type of thing that would grate on my nerves in too high doses, and the series tends to use a lot of Azusa when she does appear.

But, so far at least, I’m liking her more on this watchthrough. I still find her whole “naming things French people names and taking them” thing not especially funny, but I love the way she clashes with Mikado. They fight together wonderfully, but she has no problems kicking his ass or making him look like an idiot when she wants to. They’re a great double act.

Which is why it’s kind of odd that, while Mikado only has a few small appearances after this episode, Azusa will be getting more than that. They’re anime-only, but it seems she was popular, with fans, writers, or both, enough to get more screentime. I do wish she’d gotten a single-person move the way Mikado did, but that’s just one more complaint on how the show treats women to put on the stack.

So, this episode sadly didn’t quite live up to my memories of it. That said, it was still a fun mix of fighting and humor, so it’s definitely going to be in my top ten. But where exactly...hmm... I think it comes close to getting into the Top 5, but isn’t quite good enough to beat Shampoo’s introductory episode, sitting right below it and above the episode all about Akane’s haircut. That puts our current ranking at:

Episode 26: Close Call! The Dance of Death... On Ice!

Episode 7: Enter Ryoga, the Eternal ‘Lost Boy’

Episode 25: The Abduction of P-Chan

Episode 12: A Woman's Love is War! The Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 15: Enter Shampoo, the Gung-Ho Girl! I Put My Life in Your Hands

Episode 27: P-Chan Explodes! The Icy Fountain of Love!

Episode 9: True Confessions! A Girl's Hair is Her Life!

Episode 2: School is No Place for Horsing Around

Episode 19: Clash of the Delivery Girls! The Martial Arts Takeout Race

Episode 6: Akane's Lost Love... These Things Happen, You Know

Episode 13: A Tear in a Girl-Delinquent's Eye? The End of the Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 23: Enter Mousse! The Fist of the White Swan

Episode 17: I Love You, Ranma! Please Don’t Say Goodbye

Episode 20: You Really Do Hate Cats!

Episode 16: Shampoo's Revenge! The Shiatsu Technique That Steals Heart and Soul

Episode 8: School is a Battlefield! Ranma vs. Ryoga

Episode 11: Ranma Meets Love Head-On! Enter the Delinquent Juvenile Gymnast!

Episode 4: Ranma and...Ranma? If It’s Not One Thing, It’s Another

Episode 5: Love Me to the Bone! The Compound Fracture of Akane's Heart

Episode 1: Here’s Ranma

Episode 22: Behold! The 'Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire' Technique

Episode 3: A Sudden Storm of Love

Episode 21: This Ol' Gal's the Leader of the Amazon Tribe!

Episode 10: P-P-P-Chan! He's Good For Nothin'

Episode 14: Pelvic Fortune-Telling? Ranma is the No. One Bride in Japan

Episode 18: I Am a Man! Ranma's Going Back to China!?

Episode 24: Cool Runnings! The Race of the Snowmen

As much as I’m sad to see this storyline end, we’ve got another one of my favorites coming up! It’s training time, so next week we’re getting some more Ranma vs Ryoga action with "Ranma Trains on Mt. Terror". See you then!

#episode 27 #P-Chan Explodes! The Icy Fountain of Love!#ranma saotome #akane tendo #ryoga hibiki #mikado sanzenin #azusa shiratore #ranma 1/2 #anime rewatch #anime analysis

14 notes · View notes