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gifted-burnout-archive · 3 years

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Route 66

Requested?: Yes! @dxlanhxlland asked for a Owen x Reader where y/n is oblivious to Owen’s flirting. I added a little more to it, not gonna lie, so i hope you still like it my lovey!

Word Count: 5.6K+

Author’s Note: I found out Route 66 went through Oklahoma and kinda just had to write this tonight... Struck by inspiration, so I was. It’s nonsense, and it’s mine, and that makes it acceptable for the blog. Enjoy!

Warning: nothing really, it’s all fluff.

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Being best friends with an actor had some major perks. To start, you were always the plus one for premieres, parties, festivals, all of it. Then there was the constant gifts from around the world sent to you back home, and getting to help with script run throughs if someone’s sick, or being sent over snippets of shows months before they aired, being a part of the secret without having all the hard work that came along with it.

The best thing was always the reunions though, when that favourite person comes back from weeks or months away, back to your little Oklahoma town, even if just for a little while. That feeling of adrenaline and serotonin mixed together as lost souls reconnect after so long apart, it’s special.

Of course, the worst thing is watching them leave again. That’s exactly what Y/N was facing that weekend after two months of her best friend Owen being home from filming in Vancouver.

She knew it would happen of course, his tv show had become a success overnight, it only made sense that the team at Netflix would renew it for another season, but it didn’t make it any easier to see Owen leave again. It was never easy, in fact: Y/N found it was getting harder and harder to make that drive to the airport and send him on his way to LA. The tears that came alongside his departures were plentiful, the rides home alone deathly quiet, the nights empty without him there to spend time with.

It wasn’t like Oklahoma was exactly an exciting place to live.

Y/N had considered taking the jump, moving to LA with the hope of seeing her oldest friend more often, sure, but she didn’t have the money for such an adventure. She had been saving up for a few years now, what with Owen’s rising stardom and eventual permanent relocation imminent, but she was nowhere near close to what she needed.

So, as she woke up that Friday morning, she made a conscious decision as she pulled on a sundress and tidied her hair until a floppy sunhat, as she slipped into some sandals, grabbed her handbag, and ventured into the blazing sun of the Oklahoma summer: she was going to make this the best gosh darn weekend of Owen’s life.

“Well, don’t you look determined.” Owen commented with a smile from across the street, waving from the front steps of his house at his best friend, who waved right back. “What you got planned for me today then?” He asked with a smirk as he jogged across the road, and Y/N took in just how good he looked that morning in some vintage sports top repping a team she didn’t know, paired with a denim jacket and shorts.

“Well, I thought we could go exploring.” Y/N answered with a smile, lifting her car keys from her purse. “I think you need a trip down memory lane before disappearing off to LA again.” The decisive words had Owen unable to contain his smile as he followed her towards the truck parked in her driveway, slinging an arm over her shoulder a they walked over, taking a breath and being overcome with Y/N’s perfume: God, he loved that smell.

God, he loved her. He had for a while.

It wasn’t something he’d be sharing any time soon, of course, the kid was smarter than that. As Y/N tossed him the keys, and jumped in the passenger side of the truck, him taking the steering wheel, he took one more glance at her, committing the image of her sat in her sundress, pulling out a road map that must have been about thirty years old, to memory. He didn’t want to forget any of this as his life continued to zoom forward in the fast lane, he wanted to keep some moments locked in time, just for him.

“You sure we can be doing this? I was getting quite used to sitting on my couch all day, especially with you there...” Owen commented, and Y/N glanced up, nodding quickly, oblivious to his attempts at flirting. She always had been, more associating it with Owen’s charm rather than his attraction to her.

“Don’t worry, I have the whole day planned… Sort of… Got a mask just in case?” She asked, and Owen pulled the face covering from his pocket to prove it. “Then we’ll be taking a turn up to Jefferson, and you’ll need to get us on the Route.” She instructed, and Owen chuckled at her bossy tone, switching on the engine and pulling out the driveway, with the Great American Road in mind.

There wasn’t anything really exciting about Route 66 most of the year, Owen was aware of that. But if you picked the right day, the right car, and right stretch… It really could be a magical place.

It only took them 40 minutes or so to get onto the road, getting lucky to find it nearly empty as Owen revved the engine and started to speed down the tarmac. Y/N had slipped a CD into the truck’s sound system, the map splayed over her knees as they sang along to the country hits from her dad’s old music collection he couldn’t be bothered to clean out.

“You’re really not going to give me any clues as to where we’re driving?” Owen asked for the fourth time since they had started driving, and Y/N just grinned again, shaking her head.

“And ruin the surprise?” She pouted, and Owen bit his lip at the sight of it. “Not a chance, Joyner… We should go on the Live!” She exclaimed suddenly, causing the boy to laugh. Y/N had never been one for technology, but she knew how important it was to Owen’s job: social media presence was important to him, Owen had always enjoyed interacting with his fans.

Y/N took off her seatbelt and slid across the truck seat, reaching across Owen’s body and grabbing his phone out his jacket pocket, the boy doing his best to stay calm as her other hand grazed against the exposed skin above the collar of his shirt. She moved away as quickly as she had arrived, buckling herself back into her seatbelt and finding Owen’s Instagram app. He glanced over, grinning at her puzzled expression.

“Swipe right on the screen, Y/N.” He instructed as he watched the road, and the girl followed his directions. “Are you on the camera?” He asked, catching her nodding in his peripheral. “Great. At the bottom, there should be a button that says live. Click it, and you’ll be there.” He directed, but Y/N was a step ahead, proud of herself as she brought the camera up.

“I think it’s working!” She squeaked in excitement, panning the phone up to a grinning Owen, then out onto the view of the road. “Let me try and zoom…” She muttered, not noticing the watcher count jumping higher and higher up as she tapped on the screen, letting out a soft ‘oops!’ as she switched the camera to face herself. “Owen I think I broke your phone…” She said softly, moving the screen away from her face and frowning. “Oh, wait, no… There’s people talking to you!” She exclaimed, and Owen shook his head at her adorable incompetence, pulling over to the side of the road. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just have an idea.” He said quickly, holding a hand out for the phone and smiling into the camera, waving hello. “Hey guys! Sorry about that, if you haven’t already met my best friend Y/N, you should know she’s a little new to anything from 1998 onwards. Bear with me.” He said with a smile, quickly propping the phone up on the centre console of the truck. “And there, can you see us both?” He asked, quickly glancing down to check the answers. When he received an overwhelming stream of ‘yes!’, he sat himself back with a smile. “Well, spontaneous live! Hello! We are on a mystery trip, Y/N is surprising me before I head back to LA.” Owen prefaced as he indicated back out onto the road, continuing their drive. “We’re, what? Fifteen minutes out now?”

“Yeah, about that. Hello Owen’s followers!” Y/N waved at the phone. “O, what’s the text at the bottom?” She asked, getting the boy laughing again.

“It’s the comments, from people watching. Have a look, read some out, that’s what I usually do.” Owen explained, and Y/N leaned closer to the phone with an excited smile, catching sight of the first comment she saw.

“Aw, they’re all saying hello back! This is so cool!” Y/N squealed, biting her lip as she read a little more. “Why do you use a phone like my grandma?” She giggled at the comment, sitting back a little. “Good question, I don’t have a good answer. I’ve never really needed a phone; not like I would call anyone but Owen anyway. My life’s a lot less exciting than his.” She answered with a smile and happy shrug. “Oh, this exit, this one.”

“You’re sure this leads somewhere?” Alex checked, raising an eyebrow as he pulled off onto a road that was only a step away from dirt tracks. “And for the record, Y/N’s life is plenty exciting.” They shared a glance, both smiling at one another, Owen only pulling his eyes away to focus on the road.

“Well, maybe he’s right but he’s quite a tough act to follow, Owen’s followers.” She commented with another wave to the camera, quickly point him down another dirt road.

“Is this where you kill me on my own live feed, Y/N? That’s so not fetch.” Owen said with a roll of the eyes, and Y/N punched his arm gently.

“Stop trying to make fetch happen, it’s not going to happen.” She muttered, quoting the movie the pair had watched the night before. She leaned forward again, reading the new comments that were popping up. “How long have Owen and I been friends?” She read aloud, and glanced back at her friend. “What is it now, fifteen years?” She guessed, and he nodded. “Wait! Does that make me the original Owen Joyner fan?” She asked with a bright smile.

“I suppose it does… I mean, you were the only person to clap after my third grade concert.” Owen remarked, and Y/N giggled at the fond memory. “So, yeah…” He trailed off as they came over a hill. “Wow…” He muttered.

Y/N was quick to pick up the phone and flip the camera, presenting the view to the audience accompanying them with a giggle.

The dirt track wound its way along to the right, but Owen drove off-road, glad for the tires on the truck, coming to a stop at the edge of the bluest lake he had ever seen in person. The way the road led was to a cliff side, about 25 feet above the water, and trees popped up sporadically around the lake’s border, providing shade against the burning sun overhead.

“I thought this was dream…” Owen whispered, and Y/N turned the camera to face him, catching his expression of complete awe as he looked out at the scene.

The pair had visited once before, as kids, and it looked the exact same as it had back then. Owen had almost forgotten it existed, after them never visiting again he just assumed he had dreamed it, the day out he had spent with his family and Y/N. But there it was, right in front of him, and he turned to look at the girl who had brought it back to him.

“I stole swim trunks from your room last week, and there’s a cooler in the back.” Y/N said with a cheesy grin, glad she had kept the surprise for so long, because the look on her best friend’s face was priceless. She glanced down at the phone again, reading another comment. “Oh, who do I like most out of the JATP cast?” She read aloud, flipping the camera and smiling. “Definitely Owen, but besides him? I met Madison at New Year’s, she’s awesome!” She answered with a grin.

To her left, she was oblivious to Owen’s slack jawed expression as he tried to comprehend just how much he was in love with the girl beside him. Only Y/N would have come up with something this special, this brilliant, and act like she didn’t just make the boy’s entire year.

“You know, whenever I count my blessings Y/N, you show up twice.” Owen muttered, the girl glancing up at him as a blush coloured her cheeks. She glanced back down at the phone, her eyebrows furrowing, the compliment falling prey to the breeze that came through the car’s open windows.

“Owen, what is a Tic Tac and why does everyone want you to make one?” She asked, handing over the phone, and Owen shook his head in disbelief at her, smiling to himself.

“Right guys, don’t go confusing Y/N, her pretty little head can’t always handle it.” He remarked, teasing her as Y/N climbed out the car and made her way to collect the cooler and blankets from the truck bed, shouting a ‘hey!’ in response. Owen laughed, his eyes scanning over the comments for a moment before landing on a question:

When are you going to tell her, Owen? The heart eyes are real.

“I’ll sign out for now guys, come back to you on my story later. Thanks for tuning in!” He said with a wave to the camera, ending the live with a shaky breath, Y/N appearing at his side door a moment later.

“So, what is a Tic Tac?” She asked, opening the door for Owen, who quickly clambered out, taking the cooler off her hands as the pair started for the water’s edge. Y/N laid down the tattered blanket on the sand shores of the lake, and tossed Owen’s swim trunks and her bikini down beside her. If that boy had thought they come here and not swim, he was sorely mistaken.

“A TikTok,” Owen corrected. “Is a short video. Not much more to it.” He shrugged, and Y/N looked up.

“What, like a Vine?” She asked, scoffing when Owen raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like phones; it doesn’t mean I’m a caveman.” Y/N reminded, opening up the cooler as Owen sat it and himself down, handing over a beer to the blonde boy. He smiled, pulling out the car key and sticking it under the cap, popping it off with ease before taking Y/N’s drink and doing the same, both taking a sip of the cold beverage and sharing in a happy sigh.

The silence was comforting, familiar, accompanied only by the rustling of trees in the wind and the sound of cicadas in the nearby grass. It was like the pair had found themselves a slice of heaven only an hour or so away from home, a spot just for themselves, and as Owen glanced over at Y/N, who lay back on her elbows and bathed in the sunshine, he was tempted.

Tempted to maybe tell her how he felt, explain how he didn’t want to go to LA again without her, but the words never came. He wasn’t about to lose her.

“Thank you… For this. For everything, the past few months I’ve been back.” He decided on, taking another swig of the bitter drink, looking out onto the water in thought. “I forget sometimes, how great home can be…”

“That’s alright… You’re life’s moving forward, you can’t get stuck in one place.” Y/N responded softly, letting her eyes cast over him, the way he smiled out on the water, the way he held onto the neck of the beer so that it swung between his fingers. “Just don’t forget home entirely. That’s when you start to lose who you are.” The words were ones she had considered for the past few years now, when Owen’s career took off, she wondered if they’d ever have a talk like this. Where she’d have to remind him where he came from, who he was before fame… Before he left home indefinitely.

“Come on.” Owen clambered to his feet after a moment, holding out a hand to his friend with a small smile. “Time to make some memories.” He said as Y/N’s hand fell into his and she placed down her beer, letting him lead her towards the truck again, Owen scooping up the swimsuits as they went. She did her best to keep up with the blonde boy’s longer strides, the pair starting the trail towards the little cliff that hung over the water.

“Feeling a littler adventurous, aren’t we?” Y/N raised an eyebrow at her friend’s determined expression, taking her bikini from his hands.

“Yeah, it’s usually Charlie doing shit like this…” Owen muttered, coming to a stop as they reached their destination at the top of the hill, amongst trees and bushes. He was quick to pull off his jacket and t-shirt, glancing over as Y/N dropped her hat onto the pile. She couldn’t help stopping and glancing at the toned abdomen her friend had maintained over the years thanks to the job, her eyes trailing up to find Owen watching her with a playful smirk. “Enjoying the view there?” He asked, sending a wink over that had Y/N flushing and averting her gaze quickly, walking around the back of a nearby tree.

“You’re ridiculous, Owen. I bring you to swim and you want to jump off a cliff.” She called out as she stripped down and slipped into the bikini, Owen catching a glimpse of the bare back, gulping at the sight and finding his eyes falling down to his feet. “You’ll need to go first; give me your phone and I’ll film it for the Instagram.” She called again, collecting her clothing her walking back round to the clearing where Owen waited, doing his best to not let his jaw drop.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Y/N in a swim suit before, but as he thought back, it was the first bikini. She was stunning, the white fabric clinging flush against her skin, almost cut like a thong rather than swimwear.

“Owen?” Y/N asked again, dropping her clothes down and waving a hand in front of Owen’s face, breaking the trance she had unknowingly caused.

“Right, my phone… Sorry.” He muttered, reaching down and grabbing it from amongst the clothes, clearing his throat as he came up, handing the device over and walking to the cliff’s edge. “Please make sure you record this. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it again.” He admitted, looking back as Y/N filmed him, giving him a thumbs up.

“Do a flip!” She called out as he got his toes to the edge, earning a chuckle from the boy. He took a deep breath, and a few steps back. “Give it some pizazz.” He turned to look to her, and the camera, outstretching his hands by his sides as he walked backwards, right for the cliff edge.

“Gotta stop being adorable Y/N, or I might just fall for you.” Owen said with a wink, taking a final step and plummeting down to the waters below with a yell of adrenaline.

Y/N rushed to the edge of the cliff as she heard a splash, looking down at the deep blue below, the water rippling where Owen had entered, and she waited until he remerged with a flick of his hair and whoop of triumph.

“Come on, Y/N! You can’t leave me down here alone!” He called up, and Y/N grinned, quickly dropping the phone amongst their pile of clothes. She took a second, a deep breath, building up the nerve before running fast and jumping over the cliff’s edge with a front flip, landing in the warm water below feet first, her heart thudding against her ribcage so hard she thought it might break her bones.

She let herself be submerged in the water for a moment before pushing herself to the surface, coming up and gasping for air as Owen swam over, the pair holding onto one another to stay afloat as they erupted into laughter at their reckless abandon.

“Again?” Y/N asked, breathing heavy, and Owen could feel himself falling deeper once more.

“Definitely.”

The following days had been spent in a similar fashion, Y/N being quite adamant in her adventures before Owen left for the sunshine state. She did her best to capture as many of the moments she could too, whether it was a tourist stop or a movie night or diner food along Route 66, she did her very best to take pictures despite sub-optimal phone skills.

She didn’t want him leaving and forgetting her, she wouldn’t let it happen.

His flight off to LA came sooner than either of them wanted, the early morning alarm buzz Y/N was sure to set causing groans to echo around Owen’s bedroom. She had stayed over the night before, falling asleep cuddled into his side during a movie marathon of the Lord of the Rings franchise, not that Owen had minded. In all honesty, the moment she had begun to snooze with his thigh as a pillow, Owen hadn’t moved a muscle, too scared to wake her when she looked so peaceful. He had fallen asleep sat up, and as he slowly came to, his neck was punishing him for that decision.

He surveyed the room through hazy vision, catching Y/N’s shadow rushing off the bed to turn off the alarm clock, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. It was early doors, maybe three or four in the morning, the night outside still dark, thought not for long. By the time they got themselves on the road for the airport, dawn would be breaking.

“Morning, gorgeous.” Owen muttered, his voice heavy with sleep, the words causing Y/N to pause at the sound, a shiver running through her. “What time is it?” He muttered, rolling the pain from his neck and shoulder slowly as his vision finally focused, Y/N gathering the last of his belongings for him to take back to LA with him.

“3.52. We need to be on the road in a half hour.” She voice was no more than a whisper, and Owen smiled. It had been a while since he heard her early morning voice, which was always a mix of sleepiness and Y/N’s fear of waking others in the house. “Go get a shower, I’ll take your stuff down to the car.” She said, sending a smile his way in the low light that made Owen’s heart flutter.

“You got it, boss.” He saluted lazily as she disappeared out the room with the first of his packed cases, leaving Owen to sigh and roll the last cricks out of his shoulders with a fond smile, the weight of Y/N’s head on his upper leg still lingering as he got up, clothes in hand, and headed for his shower.

Their was a tension in his chest that rose and refused to go away as Owen stepped under the stream of warm water, one Owen suspected would stay with him for a lot longer than the flight home, too. He was leaving again, and again he had chickened out of saying how he felt about his best friend. And the excuse that it might ruin their friendship didn’t seem to be cutting it anymore, it hadn’t worked in a while, because now Owen was just lying to Y/N.

Under the water, he had a chance to hate himself and his cowardice, doing so until the water ran clear of soapy suds. But once the suds were down the drain, Owen tried his hardest to focus on all the fun the two had had over his months at home, over that weekend in particular.

How they had stayed at their lake until dark those few days before, cuddled on the sands and pointing out constellations to one another until Owen’s mom called to check in on him, to make sure he was alright. How they had spent the following day on the road again, stopping at their favourite childhood diner, caught up in hours of conversation over milkshakes and burgers. How their last day together had been spent in his bedroom with music blaring as they packed, Y/N joining him for an Instagram live, and an evening of movies and popcorn until sleep took over.

As he pulled on his clothes for the day of travelling, Owen quickly brushed his teeth and found himself scrolling through the photos Y/N and he had captured of the last three days: so many of them blurry or askew, but every single on forcing Owen’s smile even wider. He had gotten the lucky draw of friends, of best friends, but leaving this time felt different…

It felt like they were saying goodbye for good.

“You ready in there, Owen?” A chap came on the bathroom door, and Owen quickly closed his phone and shoved it in his pocket, spitting out the last glob of toothpaste and wiping his face before opening the door, Y/N stood on the other side in one of her favourite sundresses, and one of Owen’s hoodies on top. “Time to go…” She said with a sad smile, holding out a hand. He came over to her quickly, her outstretched hand coming around his waist as his rested over her shoulders, and the pair started downstairs and out the house.

“You should come visit this time. I know you have work and things here…” Owen trailed off when she nodded softly, separating from him to head to the truck’s driver side.

“Yeah, maybe I will.” Y/N answered softly, climbing into the truck and leaving it at that. A part of her knew it would be the smartest idea, but it would just lead to another goodbye like this one.

As Owen clambered into the car, he had to push Y/N’s overnight bag to the floor, one she had brought across the street for ease of access, but he was soon buckled in without issue, and they were on the road three minutes ahead of schedule. The only noises seemingly allowed were mechanical: the turn of the tires on the road below, the indicator flicking as Y/N took a turn, the revving of the engine as they started off from a stop light. Neither could muster the strength for words of farewell, it was too daunting, too difficult, and instead their silence swallowed their thoughts all the way to the airport terminal.

When the engine switched off, somehow it all became worse.

“I’ll get your bags…” Y/N spoke up after a minute or so of complete silence, stepping out the car and out onto the deserted terminal drop-off’s pavement. Her sandals slapped between the sole of her foot and the tarmac as she rounded the car to open the truck bed, beginning the labour of hauling Owen’s cases down to the sidewalk. When she heard the truck door slam, she didn’t look up, the pain of goodbye swelling in her chest.

Owen couldn’t stand it, the idea of not having her around every day, of not seeing her smile any more. It had been building up for years, of course, and finally hit its limit: he couldn’t go this time without her. He wholeheartedly believed that going back to LA, then to Vancouver, than to God knew where, would be impossible to bear if he didn’t have Y/N by his side through it.

So as he got out the truck, he grabbed the overnight bag Y/N had left in the truck front, with all her essentials, in front of her eyes, garnering his attention.

“Come with me to LA.” Owen said the words with shaky conviction, trying not to falter as her watery eyes looked up into his. Hers locked on his, then the overnight bag,

“Very funny, Owen…” Y/N whispered, her eyes trailing quickly back to their feet. “I don’t think this is really the time for jokes though…”

“Good, I’m not joking.” Owen said, more definite in his stance this time. “I want you to give your keys to the valet service, I want you to grab that overnight bag, and I want you to come to La with me.”

“Come on Owen…” Y/N sighed, a sad smile on her lips. “I’d cramp your style in the big city, you need to be moving forward…” She looked up, wiping away a stray tear as she mustered the courage to look him in the eye. “You’re just being nice because here is boring, but I’ll be fine. You need to do this, without me, so you can experience it all.” The words were kind, but misinformed, and the longer Y/N went on, the closer Owen came to exploding. “You need to spend time with your friends, with yourself, get to know who Owen is in Hollywood, because it’s not Owen in Oklahoma. Besides, you don’t need me hanging around when you’re working, or out at parties, you certainly don’t need me in the picture when you’re flirting with girls and dating-”

“Jesus, Y/N, the only girl I’ve flirted with in four years is you!”

The words hung in the air, a stray car driving along the terminal front and turning onto the freeway, the two friends stood an awkward distance apart under the harsh fluorescent lights of the airport entrance. A passer-by might have thought them strangers, and in a way they were. The glass had shattered, a secret revealed neither thought would ever come to light: one for fear of losing the other; the second believing such feelings never existed in the first place.

“What… What do you mean?” Y/N’s voice was shaky, her hands tugging at the sleeves of Owen’s hoodie she wore. “Owen, I’ve read the gossip columns, I know you’re dating, living it up in Hollywood. You don’t need to make up some bullshit to try and get me on a plane.”

“It’s not bullshit! God, are you really that oblivious, Y/N?” Owen let out a frustrated chuckle, running a hand through his mess of still damp hair, beginning to pace along the length of the truck before turning back and stopping. “Tabloids are gossip and rumours, Y/N, and none it’s true because I’ve been in love with you for as long as I care to remember!”

The words spilled from his lips before he could moderate volume or filter the language, his biggest secret laid out in front of them both on the concrete pavement below.

“… Why me?” The question was timid, quiet, something that could have been lost to early morning ambience had Owen not so desperately been waiting for a response to his confession. It wasn’t what he expected though, his frustration fading to concern as he walked over, cupping Y/N’s face in his hands, tilting her chin up so the teary-eyed girl’s gaze met his own. “I’m not exactly in your league, am I?”

“You’re far beyond it, certainly. It’s me doing the reaching here… No-one, and I mean no-one, makes me feel the way you do. Nothing makes me happier than seeing you laugh, nothing sadder than seeing you cry…” His thumb came to wipe away another rogue tear from her cheek, a smile on his lips.

“But you could do better! I’m sure there’s a thousand girls in LA who would kill to be with you, Owen.” Her words were frantic, panicked almost. “Maybe you’re wrong, maybe you’re tired and this is just nonsense talk! That makes sense, guys like you don’t flirt with girls like me I-” She was starting to pull back, so Owen pulled her flush to his body, her hands finding position against his chest as he held her tight to him by the waist.

“You’re like air, and light and sleep and water and heat… Y/N, it’s quite clear to me that I need you. And I can’t leave you here, not again.” Owen said softly, calmly, despite his heart’s erratic pace, not dissimilar to the feeling he had only a few days before, jumping off that cliff and plunging into the sapphire blue waters of the lake.

It was that adrenaline that pushed Owen to finally find the bravery to press his lips to Y/N’s, a kiss that had been years in the making for him, and seemingly for Y/N too. She kissed back immediately, her hands coming to his neck and pulling him closer. It felt like floating, his lips of hers, hers on his, the pair not seeing need to break apart as Owen lifted Y/N into his arms, her legs coming to wrap around his waist as her hands held his face tenderly.

“Come to LA with me…” Owen whispered as they finally broke apart, his breathing heavy as he examined her up close. Her eyes fluttered open, her lips swollen from their kiss, cheeks tinted pink from heat, pupils blown like he suspected his own were.

He would never get over how beautiful she was.

“Ok…” Y/N replied, a smile spreading over her lips. It was crazy, yes, and she wasn’t usually the type to do anything without planning it to some degree beforehand, but it felt right. “Let’s do it. Let’s go to LA.” She confirmed, Owen laughing in disbelief and pressing his lips to hers once more.

And so they did, gathering Owen’s suitcases and Y/N’s overnight duffel and booking another ticket for the plane. She left a voicemail for her family, to let them know what was happening, what they had decided, and Owen sent a message to the cast group chat, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

The memories they had made that weekend weren’t the end of something old, rather the beginning of something new.

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#owen joyner #owen patrick joyner #owen jatp #owen joyner x reader #owen joyner x y/n #jatp owen #julie and the phantoms #jatp #owen joyner imagine #fluff #owen joyner fluff

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scribblingfangirl · 3 years

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WITH LOVE, THE GOSTS | Julie and The Phantoms - Part Three

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Author’s Note: I decided that this fic trilogy occurs a year after the season one final, making Julie and Y/N almost (or already) 17. Also… this part turned out waaay longer than expected. Which is why there is going to be a fourth part because I have one last idea but didn’t want to rush to write it. And to think this all started because of a rushed (haha) 1k Oneshot. I should really start to write more spontaneously, it seems like good things come out of it. Anyway, Enjoy! :D

word count: ~ 3.9k

summary: Even after meeting the boys they still aren’t tired of helping you out and they each have their own little ways to do it.

warnings: // (english is not my first language, not beta-read)

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

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Knowing that ghosts existed was an absurd feeling (even though you had always believed or hoped that there was more out there than just this world, especially with all those planets that had been discovered by NASA), but knowing that there were three certain ghosts that liked you enough to kindly haunt you, well… that was just plain unimaginable somehow. Yet, still less anxiety awakening than you expected.

After Julie let you meet the guys for the first time you thought you were prepared to accept that you would not be able to talk to them unless they played something (after all, you had Flynn to groan about that), but the occasional giggle from Julie and her glances into nothing still sent chills down your spine.

So you started to always look around very suspiciously whenever you were over at her house and make obscene hand movements just to be sure that the boys would move before you walked somewhere or sat down (which just earned chuckles from Flynn and annoyed sighs from Julie - “Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see you. They know where you are, so please stop, or else my dad will call your parents and send you to Dr Turner as well.” The boys found it hilarious and liked to imitate you whenever they came too close to you.)

The boys also still kept doing little things for you, just not so in secret anymore (though… Reggie was never one for subtlety). Whenever you seemed to have had a bad day (or whenever they just wanted to make you smile) you knew you could count on them having something prepared for you.

You soon discovered that anything related to food (which sometimes were extremely odd and bizarre combinations) was Luke’s doing (except for pizza and meatballs, according to Julie that was always Reggie). And you knew it was Alex whenever it was something more calm and soothing, yet sometimes a little bit clumsy. And whenever it was blatantly obvious and/or slightly weird (in a good way!) it was Reggie.

Well, no. Not always in a good way. One time you came back from school and your whole room was filled with glitter and butterflies and a small note with a little ‘Sorry!’ on it was pinned to your desk - cleaning that had been a pain in the a-. But you couldn’t be angry at Reggie, even though you weren’t quite sure what his ultimate goal would have been.

Speaking of REGGIE...

All those helpful little deeds and nice gestures were always done within the limits of your house (mostly room) or Julie’s house and the studio, which is why you almost let out a loud yelp when suddenly during a math test your pen started to move on his own, filling out the empty space (because yes, you hadn’t been doing very much other than staring helplessly at the paper in front of you). Quickly you grabbed the pen as well (loosely and while trying to ignore the fact that you were practically holding hands with one of the guys) so that nobody would see a floating pen as you did a few weeks ago at Christmas.

From the corners of your eyes, you saw Julie slightly move her head towards you, as if she was listening to you - or rather someone right beside or behind you. ‘Of course. I can’t see them, so the only way to help me is by physically grabbing the pen, but Julie can hear and see them, so they (whoever this is - because let’s be honest, none of the guys really looks like a math genius) only have to tell her the corrects solutions and how to get there. My money’s on Alex.’

You were kind of shocked, and weirdly proud when Julie came up to you after class and said: “Reggie’s not so questionable after all, huh?” (Though… you should’ve guessed it, you did say subtlety wasn’t Reggie’s strong suit.) So you just giggled and shook your head while leaving some of your books in your locker (alongside the fact that Reggie was probably almost (if not!) hugging you from behind - you shuddered at that thought, it’s not like you were already awkward around living boys your age, no need to add ghosts to that list!)

A week later you and Julie entered the studio with blank faces and hanging shoulders. Julie threw a weak little wave towards the piano and sighed while you threw the blankets and snacks you were holding carelessly on the ground and let yourself fall face-first onto the couch, not being able to hide your smile anymore.

“We got our math exams back… yes the one Reggie helped us with.”

You couldn’t see what Julie was doing, but you heard her gasp and whisper “No! Reggie…” after a while. Then she was standing beside you, nudging your shoulder and willing you to sit up, but you didn’t bulge, needing a few more seconds to wipe the smile off your face again.

Faking to disgruntledly accept defeat as Julie’s nudges got stronger (the couch was really comfortable, you totally understood Luke now) you sat up and looked at Julie. “Who’s going to tell them?” you said with a heavy voice and felt how the couch dipped beside you. Raising your eyebrows you quickly glanced to the side (obviously not seeing anybody or anything) and looked back at Julie questioningly.

She nodded, telling you that it was indeed Reggie and gave you the okay to drop the bomb.

You sighed as you turned back around, facing the wall on the other side of the studio and hoped that Reggie would ignore the fact that you were probably talking to his ear or something. “So Reggie… the help you gave us on the math final? Well…,” you couldn’t keep your face straight any longer and jumped onto the couch, “WE ACED IT! I WOULD HUG YOU IF YOU WEREN’T MADE OUT OF CUTE AIR!” (Okay… maybe there was a little bit too much serotonin involved.)

Julie added smiling, “And I’m happy to announce that due to my good grades my father allowed Julie and The Phantoms to play at the upcoming Summer Music Festival!”

A guitar riff filled the studio, followed by a short drum intro and with a ‘puff!’ the boys appeared in front of you, beaming and glowing at the news. Reggie even threw a wink at you when you smiled back and said: “Thank you!”

Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never!

This allowed LUKE…

The music festival was an experience you would never forget. You were very happy Ray managed to persuade your parents to let you accompany Julie (sadly Flynn had no such luck). Not only did you turn 17 and the boys made sure to have the whole crowd sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you (as soon as you were back home you would add an extra point to your to-do: ‘find out how to kill ghosts a second time’), but the boys rocked the stage and Julie stood up taller and shined brighter than ever before.

Gone (yet not forgotten) were the painful shocks and the fear of never performing again and the serenity of the guys was visible.

It was the last night of the music festival when Julie got the phone call from her father. He would come by to get her the next morning and they would drive directly to visit other family members and spend the rest of the summer holidays there.

Of course, Julie was excited to see her cousins and aunts and uncles again, but she also felt bad to leave you to drive back alone (you had come with your car jam-packed with all the necessary equipment you needed and that wasn’t provided by the festival).

“Don’t worry! It’s only a four-hour drive! I’ve got good music, podcasts and audiobooks to keep me company and back home Flynn will be waiting. It sadly looks like I’m going to survive without you.”

Early the next morning Julie and some newfound fans of Julie and The Phantoms helped you load the equipment into your car and you said goodbye to Julie. Expecting the boys to just directly puff back to Los Feliz you didn’t waste any time and entered your car, connected your phone with the stereo and started to blast your favourite Broadway musicals.

You must’ve been on the road for half an hour when suddenly the playlist stopped and ‘Wake Up’ started to play.

So wake that spirit, spirit!

Confused you scrunched up your nose and touched the touch screen displaying the music system, trying to change it back to your playlist. But instead, the music changed yet again.

(Don't stop me now) 'Cause I'm having a good time (Don't stop me now) Yes, I'm havin' a good time I don't want to stop at all

“What the hell?” you muttered, staring at your stereo for a quick second before focusing back on the road, “Why you always going crazy on me dude?”

Once again the music switched.

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?

It took you a hot minute to understand what was going on and then you couldn’t stop laughing.

Don't laugh at me, don't call me names Don't get your pleasure from my pain

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said mockingly, looking at the empty passenger seat, guessing that that’s where your invisible friend was sitting. “Your pain? I’m not the one who is able to puff wherever and whenever their heart desires and who sneaks up on innocent people.”

Silence.

“For what it’s worth. I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not like you choose this life, you deserved better than this. But I’m really glad I was able to get to know you. I’m really thankful for the light and happiness you brought back into Julie’s life.”

Don't you worry 'bout a thing

But I'm still learnin' to

using technology

You laughed. “Impressive skills nevertheless. Knowing three fitting songs and then changing them at the right time? Let me guess, Luke? Because I don’t think all of you three would fit into my tiny car full of musical equipment.”

At first, there was no music yet again, but then the slow melody of a (for you) well-known song flooded your car. It was the one Trevor Wilson song you never understood until you met the boys, the one song that was so totally different to his usual rock sound (except for the refrains, which, as you later would find out, were parts of the original lyrics Luke wrote for his version of the song).

I sing to remember the stories that used to be But I don’t write to create what could have been And as I scream words into the darkness around me They come out like a dying whisper

The kindest thing to do is to silence them and let them die To unleash my heartfelt sorrow into the sky And diminish the will to fight That pulses like fire and screams with pain through my veins

But life’s not always beautiful, it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down He is here to stay

Don’t call him a breeze when he’s a hurricane Don’t call him a tremble when he’s an earthquake Don’t call him an inconvenience Please just say his name

Leaving lyrics in my hands That I swallow like pills Like hurtful words, they rip and claw And press painfully against my chest

But no matter how painful they are I will soak them up, thinking of our hopes and wishes And as each word pushes a new pulse through my veins I keep staring out on the grave of our shared space of mind

Life’s not always beautiful, but it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down He is here to stay

Don’t call him a spark when he’s a lightning bolt Don’t call him a flicker when he’s a raging flame Don’t you dare to underestimate him Please just say his name

But even when the word flood finally comes to an end Fidgeting hands remind me of music never played

I owe him my voice I owe him my sound

So I give him this time I give him this space To sing it out loud To let him declare And let me be proud

What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!)

How long do we say his name? (Until we explode!)

My name is Luke! (Tell your friends!)

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, the song now more emotional than ever before. You couldn’t imagine how this song must affect Luke. Thinking that his bandmate abandoned him (which honestly… he kind of did, only mentioning him in one song, not giving any money to their parents and so on) up until he heard the song for the first time.

“Luke…”

Forget about it Let's forget about it

The ensuing silence wasn’t awkward. You hummed along to the music Luke selected, sometimes it were old classics (probably his favourites), other times it seemed to be random newer hits he probably never heard before mixed with some songs from your favourite playlists.

It was nearing midday and your stomach made itself known. As if on cue a road sign hinted at a diner just up ahead. Setting the blinker you pulled into the parking lot a few moments later.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know home’s only like an hour away, but...” you began to trail off, not knowing where to look at and your stomach finished your sentence. And before you were able to grab the door handle it sprung wide open.

“Uh, what a gentleman. Thank you very much.”

The meal was over in a flash and once more you realised how much the boys actually knew about you without having actually interacted with you (perks of seeing other people without being seen themselves?).

It’s like Luke could read your wishes just from your facial expressions. Whenever you needed salt or pepper they were right there. Whenever something was too salty or had too much pepper on your drink was being pushed closer to your side. And when you accidentally spilt something and needed more napkins they magically appeared.

When you then spotted a cute little guitar keychain that reminded you of Luke that was being sold as a souvenir at the check-out it was suddenly safely tucked into your back pocket (though that was really really risky, and while you did not condone it you couldn’t really stop a ghost).

Back in your car, you didn’t even bother to turn on the stereo, knowing that Luke would take over as soon as your hands were on the steering wheel again.

However, a glance to your right presented you with a map of your surroundings, a big x hastily drawn over the Silverwood Lake in San Bernardino, which was basically just around the corner.

“You want to go swimming? We- I just ate! And my bathing suit is somewhere under that mountain of equipment on the backseat.”

Let's just get naked, just for a laugh Let's just get naked It's a trip and a half

You laughed at that, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, before stowing the map away and turning on the car. “I guess catching Reggie in the shower isn’t enough anymore?”

Hey!

“You started making it weird buddy.”

It had started to rain when you finally pulled up in your driveway, but you couldn’t be bothered to rush inside, enjoying the feeling of the cooling wetness on your skin.

“Look at that,” you said to nobody in particular, not knowing if Luke was still around or if he puffed back to the garage, “I didn’t even need to go swimming after all.”

He was. Sitting in the passenger seat, face on his arms while he leaned on the open car window, he watched you dance in the rain with a smile on his face. He was glad he decided to stick around and keep you company on that road trip. You gave him the courage to listen to My Name Is Luke for the first time (and getting to see you smile while showing off his impressive music knowledge was a bonus too). Because without knowing, you were doing little deeds for the boys too.

And made ALEX…

Whoever wrote that “Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain”-quote totally forgot to mention how dangerous small summer storms can be.

Well sure, it might have been your fault for staying out for too long and deciding to let the sun that came out a little bit later dry you instead of changing into fresh and dry clothes, but whatever happened happened and you got sick. (It’s not like you had anything better to do during the last few days of your summer holidays, right?)

Flynn had been a great friend and hung out almost daily at your house, playing board games, watching movies or tv or even just discussing upcoming Julie and The Phantoms possibilities with you. But your dearest little helper had been Alex.

The blond drummer had turned into the tall brother you never had but always wanted (focus on tall because the age thing with ghosts is seriously confusing) even if he was invisible to you 100% of the time. You had the same interests and were able to bond without actually having to say any words, little gestures and reciprocations on your side were more than enough.

Julie had come up with an easy solution and had bought you some of those sound buzzers (like the ones that dogs and cats use to communicate with their owners) and recorded some simple words and phrases the boys liked to use on them. Now the boys just had to press them to be able to communicate with you without having to use pen and paper or Julie herself (sure your parents were a little bit weary and confused, but you said it was for a longer school research project and that shut them up).

Now, feeling way better than during the last few days, but still very tired, you were sitting in your bed, not really focused on the tv show (or was it a movie?) that was playing on your computer. You had been contemplating and mentally preparing yourself to get something to eat and to drink for the past 15 minutes, but the thoughts alone were exhausting and binding you to the bed. Just then a tray with a water bottle, meds and a fruit bowl floated into your room.

Suddenly wide awake and full of energy you clumsily jumped out of your bed and grabbed the tray, throwing a quick glance out of the door to see if your parents were around and slammed the door shut, wincing at the loud sound and hoping that Alex had walked out of the way (not that it would have hurt him, but you know - rude).

“Rude.”

See? He thought the same. (Julie had to specifically add this word for Alex.)

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I would like not to get murdered or have Sam and Dean Winchester on my back because my parents think I’m possessed and need to be exorcised.”

“Me.”

“You what?”

“Me.”

“Alex… I need more context.”

“I do. Me.”

You just blinked blankly at the sound buzzers, trying to piece together what Alex was trying to say.

“Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. M-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH Y/N! WHATEVER THAT SCHOOL PROJECT IS, TELL IT I HEARD IT AND I DON’T CARE WHAT IT WANTS!” you heard your father's scream come muffled through the door.

The audience laughter from sitcoms filled your room and you groaned, grabbing a pillow and smashing it against your face.

Faintly you heard the telltale sound of a pen scribbling something on paper and when you peeked from behind the pillow a note was floating in the air in front of you. “You mean exorcise ME! You would be the one surviving!”

“What? Oh my god… yeah okay, YOU get exorcised… same thing. Both aren’t allowed to happen. Forgive my fever brain.”

“No.”

“Fork you, Alex.”

“No.”

“I have Carlos on speed-dial, I’m sure he already came up with other methods to get rid of ghosts other than the salt thing. He already told me that he’s sorry and that he thinks I might get haunted by you too with the amount of time I spend at their house.”

“No. Food.”

Confused at that topic change it took you a few seconds to answer. “What?” Looking around your gaze landed on the tray that you had deposited on your desk. “Oh right! Boy, I completely forgot how thirsty and hungry I am. Did I say thank you? Fang u!” you mumbled with your mouth full of fruit.

“No. Food.”

You swallowed down your food and took a big gulp of water. “Yes Alex, thank you. I am eating. You see? Here I am, here’s the food. The food is here and now whoops - ifs gan!”

You could basically feel the annoyance radiating from the ghost and weren’t really shocked when the pen started to scribble something down again.

“No! Argh!” He really wrote Argh… that dork really wrote Argh! “You can be worse than Reggie sometimes, but you do it on purpose and I’m just sorry for Reggie. A) Carlos thinks he got rid of us by making a french dip and B) You’re awfully lively for a supposedly sick person. I might need to use the buzzers more and see what other reactions I can provoke from your parents.”

Crumbling the note in your hands you thought ‘Challenge accepted’. “You know what? I think I’mma go back on Reggie’s offer and actually let him introduce me to Wilbur. He might know some stuff I could use to blackmail you. And you’re right! I feel much better, just very tired, but that’s nothing a little bit of fresh air can’t fix! Toodles!”

You left your room, leaving a flabbergasted ghost behind who had lost his snapback with the number of times he had been combing through his hair with his hands. And while angrily pressing a pink buzzer, the buzzer wasn't the only thing that screamed “WILLIAM!” after the girl. (That was another important sound Alex wanted to have recorded.)

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Taglist: @sunsetcurvej @ifilwtmfc

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #luke patterson x reader #reggie peters x reader #alex mercer x reader #jatp imagine #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #jatp one shot #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms oneshot #julie and the phantoms one shot #my writing #viascribbles

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gojos-sidepiece-69 · 3 years

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Tokyo Tech Training- Chapter 4

How was it only Tuesday? You groaned and put your hands over your eyes, slowly sitting up in your bed. You had just had a nice, dreamless sleep: no blindfolds, no stupid jokes, no stupidly moisturized lips (that belonged to a certain man whore) anywhere to be seen. You racked your brain trying to figure out how any of this could have possibly happened within the span of your first four days in the Jujutsu world. The whiplash from the most eventful weekend of your life started to kick in, heavily.

Your feet dangled over the edge of your bed, and you sighed deeply, touching at the bruised flesh on your hips. You pulled the band of your pajama pants down slightly, gaping at the state of your thighs. You couldn’t tell whether the crescent-shaped indents and the violent branding of love bites were from Gojo or...Sukuna. You let out a small laugh at the insanity of the situation.

To your luck and great relief, the higher-ups had ordered a restful “team-bonding” day. From what you had heard, Megumi and Nobara had taken quite the beating as well. Their mission with Nanami to exorcise a certain high-grade curse with patchwork skin proved to be unsuccessful, as the evil thing escaped without a trace into the sewer systems. You pushed your door open and joined your fellow first-years in the hallway. There was a certain comfort in seeing the four of you together, all tired and scarred and bruised, but still smiling nonetheless (except for the ever-deadpanned Megumi). “Hey, I know what we can do today!” Nobara suggested excitedly. “Let’s go movie-hopping!”

Yuji started jumping up and down quickly. “Yes, yes, let’s do it! What movies are they showing today?! Hopefully something with Jennifer Lawrence in it,” he drooled. Megumi rolled his eyes, but nodded. “If I see any curses, though, I’m going to be upset. This was our day to recover.” You agreed with the movie-hopping idea, glad that you could have just one more day to yourselves, doing normal teenager things.

Half an hour later, you met up with your classmates at the front gates of Tokyo Tech, and started on your stroll downtown. “Hey, Y/n, what’s with the limp?” Nobara chuckled as she took in your pathetic attempt to walk straight. “The curse get you that badly?” You nodded at her, sheepishly thinking about how the damage from that curse was the least of your concerns. Yuji immediately patted himself. “Hop on,” he told you, signaling you to jump onto his back. “You want to give me a piggy back ride?” You smiled and teased him; his sincerity and concern was genuine, and it made your heart warmer.

You climbed onto his back and he continued walking as though he was weightless. Damn, you thought enviously. How did he recover so quickly? Yuji animatedly and dramatically described yesterday’s encounter to his friends. He was talking so fast you could barely keep up: “...and there were spikes, and the finger was caged between the teeth, and ... and, then I had to switch with Sukuna or we would’ve died! !! !!! And I can’t remember a thing after that. Oh, did you guys like your Mickey Mouse keychains?” Nobara gushed about how cute the souvenir was, and the two of you discussed how much you loved being in Tokyo. You took in the street vendors around you, the big flashing, neon lights, and the vibrant storefronts. Everything you laid your eyes on was so interesting and new, but couldn’t help but find yourself thinking about the view from above...38 floors above.

You shook your head and tried to forget about him. Why did your mind always have to wander back to him? No, you still didn’t care. “We’re here!!” Yuji shook you out of your intrusive thoughts as he announced your arrival in front of the Toho Cinema. You gaped at the marvelous glass building, serotonin boosting by the minute. “What are we watching?” You asked after you all pushed inside. Of course, it only took a second for the three get into a heated argument about which movie they would see first.

“We’re watching the showing of Back to the Future!” Yuji pouted, and Nobara was quick to yell, “Hell no! The freaky old man scares me!” Then Megumi suggested, “How about Fight Club?” and Nobara stamped her foot. “No violence today. I don’t need to see a skinny Brad Pitt with blood spurting out of his nostrils for two hours straight,” and you nodded in accord. After two more minutes of heated debate, you settled on Fast and Furious, because of its perfect blend of early-2000s tomfoolery, corny dialogue, and sexy (but ridiculous) car chases.

You sat sandwiched between Nobara and Itadori, and made the regrettable decision of holding the food tray in your lap. You could barely hear the furious engines revving over the sound of Yuji and Nobara greedily scooping popcorn and dropping sour gummy worms everywhere. Yuji repeatedly slurped his coke (which he for some reason preferred watered down) at maximum volume. Megumi was intently staring at the screen, and you made eye contact with him a few times and exchanged friendly eye rolls. The four of you exited the theater after the movie, and were about to commence your second round of argument for the next choice when your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Sukuna’s devilish mouth made an appearance on Yuji’s right cheek. This couldn’t be good.

Before Yuji could slap it away, it spoke. “Y/n has a little secret to tell you guys. Go on, tell them,” he provoked you. The three turned to you, looking slightly confused. “Huh? I-I have no idea what he’s talking about,” you rushed. “Come on, you don’t want them to know how much fun we had together yesterday? Oh, maybe your friends don’t know that side of you yet; surprising, because I could tell just from the redness of your cheeks how much you enjoyed being called a slut. Anyways, if you don’t tell them, I will,” Sukuna’s mouth continued in a bored tone. You went to sharply slap your hand right across Yuji’s face, but his reflexes were too fast.

“He’s talking nonsense, guys,” you pleaded with their eyes. Before any of them could speak, Sukuna laughed and yelled, “I fucked her! And she was screaming and arching her back for me like she’d been deprived of dick her whole life! Don’t let her innocence fool you, she’s nothing but a whore!” He laughed once more and retreated back into Yuji’s skin.

You were so shocked that you couldn’t move. “What the fuck,” Megumi said, his usually half-lidded eyes widening. “Is it true?” Nobara asked. “Is that why you could barely walk today? Was it that big?” While those two were quietly asking questions in shock and utter disbelief, your pink-haired companion went completely ballistic. “I CAN’T REMEMBER ANY OF THIS. WHY WOULD HE DO THAT?!!! I DON’T UNDERSTAND...I’M NEVER SWITCHING WITH THAT IDIOT AGAIN!” He continued to have a system malfunction and babble, but your shame and embarrassment grew. You felt a slight pinch of anger forming as you realized that Gojo hadn’t explained anything to Yuji yet, even though he said he would. Yuji didn’t know about Sukuna’s deal yet.

“Was it...did you want to do it? I have to make sure. Because if you didn’t, I’ll kill that bastard right now with my own two hands” Nobara said. You swallowed the growing lump in your throat and nodded shamefully. “I wanted to.” “He’s taken so many innocent lives,” Megumi said quietly, and looked away. “Who’s side are you on?” Your shoes began to look really interesting, and you managed a weak, “I...didn’t want you guys to find out. It’s okay, you don’t have to worry about me. It’s extremely hard to explain, but I-you’re just going to have to trust me when I say I’ll be okay. There’s a...a reason I’m doing it.” Even saying it out loud sounded ridiculous. You had no guarantee that you would leave this arrangement unscathed, no guarantee except for...whatever Gojo’s protection had to offer.

There was no guarantee, either, that keeping up your end of the bargain would even save lives. “DID HE HURT YOU? DID I HURT YOU?” Yuji grabbed your shoulders and forced you to look up. “No, no. I’m good,” you answered. You were glad that your friends had your back, but extremely ashamed that you had let all of them down for your own selfish reasons. To play a game and keep a certain person jealous. What made you feel even worse, though, was the fact that you secretly didn’t want that game to end.

Yuji, sensing the tension, broke the silence. “All right, no more arguing. We’re going to go watch World War Z and forget that ever happened.” You were so grateful when him and Nobara took you by the arms and dragged you into another theater, Megumi following behind. Even if it was a zombie apocalypse movie, you needed the escape. “And more popcorn!” Yuji enthusiastically suggested, bolting to get another large bucket and then coming back within two seconds.

You tried, again, to focus on the movie but this time you weren’t distracted by you’re friends’ prodding elbows and crunching noises. It was the looming fear of what Sukuna was going to do to you day after tomorrow. The thought of his evil grin and sheer strength sent chills down your spine, and you sat up straight. You looked at Yuji for a minute, wondering if the king of curses was watching you writhe with nervousness right now. He was probably enjoying feeding off of your fear, you thought. And you were right. He was.

🌹

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo sensei #jujutsu kaisen #jjk anime #jjk smut #anime #chapter 4 #long fic #fanfic #writing #fancfiction #fushiguro megumi #yuji itadori #kugisaki nobara #sukuna #jjk

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moonctzeny · 4 years

Text

Never really yours

anon: Just wanted to say that "The bet" was absolutely cute!!! If you are still taking requests, I'd love to have celebrity!au + Taeyong + exes + 26 I'm looking forward to your next writings :)!

“Baby, please. Being with you once a month is still so much better than not being with you at all. I can’t live without you” “And I can’t keep looking for flakes of happiness in the same place that I lost it”.

pairing: celebrity! Taeyong x fem! reader

genre: angst, smut

word count: 1,734

warnings: mentions of death, drinking, slight body worship, breakups, for the love of god don’t read this if you’re freshly broken up

a/n: sorry for the angst, hope you like it anon!

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How did you get yourself into this mess again?

He looks good, his hair a turquoise shade only he could pull off that well. You wondered how he found time to attend your common friend’s birthday party tonight, it’s been months since anyone in your life had seen him in person. Being a k-pop idol meant having almost no free time and as Taeyong’s ex-girlfriend, you knew that too well.

You don’t know how you found yourself tangled up with him in your sheets.

It started off with an awkward greeting, your friend’s apartment not big enough for you to avoid stumbling upon each other. He asks you about your life, about work, about your favourite TV show ending. You lie about everything being fine, not mentioning the fact that you’ve been waking up crying every night because he keeps visiting your dreams. Hugging your waist, kissing your knuckles, only for you to open your eyes to see the cold spot he left in your bed. In turn, you ask him about Ruby, and when he tells you she passed away, big eyes brimmed with tears and avoiding yours, you insist you sit down with him and share a beer.

Taeyong isn’t a good drinker, but he would gladly do it if it meant spending more time with you. An hour of catching up and you remember exactly what drew you to him in the first place and what convinced you to get in a committed relationship with someone so unattainable. He is so sensitive, so sweet. Attentive to everything you had to say, gentle and encouraging with his words. He always knew how to calm you down, all your problems you shared with him shrinking into nothingness the moment he reassured you everything was going to be okay.

You know you shouldn’t have let him grab your hands, but the circles he drew on them with his thumbs had a drug-like effect on you. You know you shouldn’t have run your hands through his hair, but the little mewl he let as he nuzzled his head against you, made all your constraints fall out the window.

“I can’t stop thinking about you”, he murmurs as soon as the beer can is less than half full and you choose to believe him. He insists on walking you home and you agree, knowing damn well he will follow you upstairs without any complaints from you.

From the moment he steps into your apartment, he has his lips glued on yours. Hungry, fervent kisses were exchanged between you, making you struggle to lock your front door. You move onto the couch, never breaking away from each other and discarding a piece of clothing with each step.

“I’ve missed you so much”, Taeyong whispers against your lips and you want to pinch yourself to make sure this isn’t one of the countless scenarios your mind fabricates for you in your sleep. You want to say it back but you’ve cried it so many times in your pillow that it seemed pointless to be repeated.

He pulls you on his lap, hands running over your sides to unfasten your bra. Sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, his doe eyes look up at you to gauge your reaction. He loves when you tell him he does a good job, that he makes you feel good, such a people pleaser that it makes your heart ache.

“Mmm, yes baby. Your lips feel so good”

His eyes light up in your praise, urging him to flick his tongue over your bud until you’re moaning his name. You know your pleasure is his number one priority but the sensitivity is getting too much and you haven’t had enough of him yet. Crouching down, you pull his hair to rest on the couch’s headrest when you start nibbling on his neck.

“No marks”, he pleads, “I have a photoshoot tomorrow”

Ah, yes, there it is. That stomach-churning feeling that has the memories you’ve tried so hard to repress flooding your mind in a second. That little voice that reminds you that Taeyong is never really yours. Missed birthdays, missed anniversaries, missed calls. Homemade dinner you prepared for him getting cold due to another practice taking too long. Waiting for a week for a mere notification, a voice message. Only getting to hear his voice by turning on the TV, seeing his smile through a screen. Were you his significant other or his fan? Did his most loyal fans know even more about your boyfriend than you? No. Maybe they knew about his favourite number, or his album sales, but you knew how to do this.

You kneel down in front of him, springing his member out of his boxers and putting him into your mouth. Slurping around him intensely, you let your tongue hang out as his tip hits your soft palate. He moans at the feeling and you gloat over the sounds he is making just for you. You knew how to make him feel good, and you had to prove to yourself that you meant something to him, maybe even as much as he meant to you.

After some more minutes of your pampering he pulls you up, and starts leaving kisses over every part of your body his lips can reach. He murmurs about how beautiful they are, how beautiful you are, how much he missed you. His words were as sweet as they were addictive, so you lead him to your bedroom to shut him up.

Taeyong soon finds himself on top of you, naked and rubbing his cock over your folds that are undoubtedly wet by this point. You haven’t slept with anyone since your breakup but you don’t tell him that. Hell, you couldn’t even admit to yourself that his loving was the only physical contact you were really craving, but the moment he dives into you it’s hard to deny it.

He captures your lips in a devout kiss, contrasting his deepening thrusts. You hold on to his arms to try and ground yourself from the pleasure that is devouring you completely. This feels so familiar, so right that you want to scream. How unfair is it that someone has to rip these moments of intimacy with him, that you need near as damn much as oxygen at this point, away from you?

One of his thrusts soon hits that sensitive spot in you and you moan at him loudly to do it again. He concentrates in pleasuring you more deeply and opens your legs further in the process, pinning your knees onto the mattress. The motion is rigorous and your neighbors must hate you for the thumping of the bedpost against the wall but you couldn’t care less. His eyes are focused on your contorting expressions, widening the moment your mouth drops open at the wave of your orgasm washing over you.

Nothing can compare to the feeling of having the person you genuinely love connect with you through body and soul. In these serotonin-filled moments of your pussy gripping him, trying to coax an orgasm from him, nothing has changed. You’re still together, like those times you sneaked a quicky in his dorms after dance practice. Or those times he managed to stay over at your place to have a movie marathon and binge on his favorite sweet potato snacks. Or those rare times he took you out on a date under the moonlight of the UN Village hills, making promises about forevers.

Taeyong doesn’t take long to cum, panting and glistening in after-sex glow, and you think you’ve never seen anything more stunning. He plops next to you, one arm serving as a pillow under your head, the other drawing abstract shapes over your tummy. You don’t know what to say as the euphoria starts to wear off, leaving you in the uncomfortable realization of what you just did. He is the one who breaks the silence first.

“Sometimes, I sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different”

Oh, God knows you did too. You’ve spent the majority of your relationship daydreaming about an alternative universe, where Taeyong is just your colleague from work that you started dating, where you can go to the grocery store down the street with him, or kiss his hand in the daylight without fearing for his career ending. Your answer was quite different though.

“Don’t. There’s no use.”

He turns his torso around, leaning on the hand behind you to look at you.

“Why?”

“Because”, you sigh, hating the way he furrows his eyebrows like he didn’t agree with your breakup as well, “you won’t give up being a celebrity and I can’t stand only seeing you once a month. We’ve been over this”

“Well, this time it can be different! I can ask for less promotions and you can ask for more day offs. We can make this work!”

“No, we can’t Taeyong!” You move away from him now, using up every ounce of self-control to deny him. “You think I didn’t try as hard as I could the first time around? This isn’t sustainable and you know it.”

“Why can’t we just try again? And if it doesn’t work then-”

“Then what? What will happen when I need you and you won’t be able to be here? Do you know how much it fucking hurts to only hold on to memories of you? It almost doesn’t matter if we’re together or not, I still miss you all the same!”

You get up from the bed, covering yourself with a bathrobe, blinking again and again to keep the tears from spilling out. He is looking back at you with those big puppy eyes that you love the most and you hate yourself for the way they lost their sparkle.

“Baby, please. Being with you once a month is still so much better than not being with you at all. I can’t live without you”

“And I can’t keep looking for flakes of happiness in the same place that I lost it”. It was so hard to avoid his eye contact, so hard to keep yourself from snuggling up to him in the bedsheets and let yourself get carried away in the lie. But you had to be strong, for the both of you. “I think it’s time you should go”

#taeyong smut #taeyong angst #taeyong scenarios #nct smut #nct scenarios #superm #superm smut #superm scenarios #lee taeyong #nct angst #nct 2020 #taeyong

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shinsousbedroom · 3 years

Text

Stars and their Distance

Daiya no Ace misawa FWB AU, 1/10 chapters

Miyuki Kazuya, a depressed, workaholic catcher in the NPB, and Sawamura Eijun, a frustrated influencer who just got dumped, are both looking for temporary distraction. The casual, no-strings-attached friends with benefits thing they stumble into is exactly that.

Well, it would be if either of them knew how to do casual.

[Read on AO3.]

Chapter 1: Spinning

Excerpt from “Ace of Hearts: a blog about when love comes outta left field!; Q&A: Bad Break-Up Blues”

“[…] Think of relationships like this. You’re a pitcher on the mound and there’s a line up of batters waiting to knock your ball outta the park. These are your dating prospects. When you’ve gotten hurt pitching before—tore a tendon, drilled the batter, balked, whatever it was—you might not wanna pitch again, right? But the only surefire way to lose the game is to not throw the ball at all.

“You might be thinking, ‘But Eijun, if the batter hits a home run off your pitch, aren’t you losing the game?’ Well, if you think the point of the game is to win, sure. But to me, the point of baseball isn’t victory. It’s playing the best game you can with the best players you can. The same can be said for love. Some batters will foul out early, and some runners will never make it all the way home. But when you make that connection, when that bat slams the ball out of the park and the whole field feels the electric rush of a phenomenal play that you helped make—isn’t that a beautiful moment to chase after? Isn’t that feeling worth the risk that comes with love?

“So no matter how unlikely a batter steps up to your plate—and there will be batters you didn’t anticipate—throw the pitch! I promise, every strikeout and home run just makes you a better pitcher and brings you a step closer to a beautiful game. […]”

***

“Did you have to move right after the end of the season?” Kuramochi wiped off the sweat from his face with the bottom of his blue shirt. The whole thing was already drenched dark, consistently doused with water the whole day through as Kuramochi drained bottles over his head to beat back the unseasonably hot September day. “Take a fucking break first, Miyuki.”

Kazuya spat out a handful of screws. The bitter, metallic aftertaste clung to his mouth. “Why delay?” he said, tossing the instruction manual for his shelf to the side in frustration. It skittered across the hardwood floor and into Chris’ calf.

Chris plucked the booklet up and thumbed through the pages of mildly helpful pictograms, eyeing them warily against Kazuya’s clear lack of progress. “Yeah, Miyuki. Why delay?”

Kazuya shot Chris a sour look and flopped back onto the ground with a groan, defeated. “Not like we’re busy during postseason this year.”

They sighed in unison, united in the bitterness of loss.

At least Chris’ team had been only one out from the Climax Series. The Swallows hadn’t come close, and even though it was expected from a rebuild year, the loss still rankled. Small mercies, though: Kazuya could rub in the fact that the Swallows hadn’t been last place in their league unlike the Mariners.

Suck it, Kuramochi. He’d take his victories where he could.

Kazuya stuck his hand into the air, spreading his fingers wide as the overhead lights filtered between them. “Anyway. Moving is work, and you all banned me from working for the next four months. So really, I’m being responsible here.” His hand flopped down next to him with a hard thunk.

Kuramochi trudged over, heavy steps echoing through the empty apartment, until his head popped into Kazuya’s vision, arms crossed and scowl fierce. “If you wanna try to fight this again, just give me a fucking reason to pin you into a headlock until you’re crying for mercy.”

Kazuya grabbed at his ankle, rolling onto his stomach for a second swipe as Kuramochi danced out of reach.

“You can’t pull a fast one on the cheet—AH!”

His ankles caught the edge of the shelf boards, knocking Kuramochi onto his ass. The wooden slats scraped across each other as they slid out of their neat stacks, thumping and scratching the floor until they were criss-crossed between Kazuya cackling into the floor on his stomach and Kuramochi, shocked and sprawled across the debris.

“Fucking build your furniture, Miyuki!” He cradled his foot in his hands, holding it up to inspect as he twisted it every which way. “We’re not doing the same thing as last time, when it took you a full year to finally put all your shit together.”

The weight of apathy slid back into Kazuya’s limbs, edging out the laughter that had given him a moment of relief. “What if I just didn’t?”

“Is that what you want?” Chris replied evenly.

He lolled his head towards Chris. Despite the heat, Chris had spent all day in a black turtleneck, never once hinting he was even mildly uncomfortable even at the peak of the day’s heat, lugging in heavy boxes from the sun-warmed streets. Now sitting on the floor among bubble wrap and crumpled paper, legs kicked out in front of him and waves of brown bangs framing his face, he still looked as wholly put together as ever.

Even when Kazuya knew beyond a doubt Chris was the epitome of keeping a stone face even when he was going through the worst of it, he still couldn’t help but be jealous.

Kazuya went back to staring at the unfamiliar gray tiles on his new ceiling. “It would be pretty funny to leave my apartment unfurnished to spite Kuramochi.”

“Finish the shelf.” Chris tossed the manual back.

“Kominato’s the one who left the task half-done,” Kazuya said, closing his eyes, overwhelmed in a sudden wash of fury and helplessness.

He opened his eyes to see Kuramochi and Chris hovering above him again. Both their brows were furrowed, Kuramochi’s fist clenched at his collar, Chris frowning mildly.

“I’m fine,” Kazuya said brusquely.

They glanced at each other, then back at Kazuya.

He sat up, forcing the other two to reel back to avoid knocking their heads together. “I’m 27, not 7,” he said, testily. “I don’t need to be put under a watch, I’m a grown ass adult.”

“We aren’t gonna—we can’t sit to the side and watch you nearly kill yourself from overwork again this off-season.”

“Don’t exaggerate—“

“You said you had it together last year, but you didn’t. So you’re getting strict rules this year,” Kuramochi tugged at his hair, a frustrated sneer on his face. “The Swallows and your agent both know not to let you pile on more than your bare minimum until preseason. And the rest of us are going to check on you regularly because we care about your health, even when you don’t. Got it?”

“It’s not overwork,” he said, falling into the same argument that had been chipping away at him for a year now.

“Then what is it?”

The only coping mechanism that works. The only way I can pretend to feel anything off the diamond. The only thing that makes me tired enough to sleep at night without baseball 24/7.

He settled on: “It’s just work. Making a living, some might say.”

“Hard to do that when you’re stuck in a hospital bed.”

“That won’t happen again. I was just stressed and tired and a bad day caught me off guard.”

“Yeah, it won’t again because we’re gonna help make sure the off-season doesn’t wreck you again after a long history of hiding your fucking problems until they explode.”

“At least you can’t take conditioning away from me.”

“Follow the plan your trainers set for you.” Chris’ voice cut into Kazuya’s stubbornness. “Please don’t joke about this with me.”

After a moment, Kazuya nodded his head, brusque.

Kuramochi rubbed the back of his neck, trying to break the awkward air that had sprung up between them. “Isn’t exercise supposed to help depressed people? Boost your serotonin up or some shit like that?”

“Just my luck it doesn’t,” Kazuya muttered. He cleared his throat. “Can we go back to harassing me about how bad I am at unpacking?”

“We wouldn’t harass you if you just did it.” Kuramochi stood back up and kicked at a box as he went back to sweeping the floors. “Unpack before the season starts up again. You have nearly five months. If you’re feeling feisty, try decorating your apartment, too.”

“My entire personality is baseball. I don’t care about interior design. Or anything else, for that matter.”

“You used to. Pick up your old hobbies. Bring out that telescope you had at back at Waseda. Read a memoir. All the shit you can’t do during the season, drag ‘em out into the open again.”

The wrong answer, he knew, was to reiterate that he didn’t care about any of that anymore. Seriously. “You two are busy-bodies.”

Chris handed him the power drill then returned to the pile of securely wrapped glass kitchenware. “It’s called friendship,” he said, bubble wrap crinkling.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Just try, Miyuki. Please.”

“Sure,” he said, flippantly, knowing the lie didn’t pass unnoticed from the sag in Kuramochi’s shoulders. He thumbed through the instructions, pushing aside the guilt welling into his throat. Kazuya needed this conversation to be over. “Chris-senpai, where’d you put the drill bits?”

***

“Hjnhbgfgvbhnjmknjbhgvfdbghnjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj” wasn’t the most eloquent start to Eijun’s next blog post. Of course, Eijun normally didn’t start his articles by rolling his face across the keyboard in frustration, but considering how little he’d written in the past week, this was as good a draft as any.

Eijun’s eyes flung open as the laptop shifted from under his face, tipping his head off to thunk into the table. He rubbed at his forehead, and blinked up to find Harucchi tapping delicately at the keyboard while the other hand balanced the device in the air. “Eijun-kun,” said Harucchi, peering from around the screen, “not your finest work.”

Eijun sat up and scowled, the lines of his face scrunching against the keyboard indents on his skin. “What would you know about it?”

“I’ve been editing your posts for years,” Harucchi said. He settled the laptop in front of Eijun, then settled into the chair across from him. “If you’d like me to stop now, I can happily use that time in other ways.”

The dishes rattled when Eijun slammed his palm onto the table. “You’re not allowed to ditch me like that!”

Harucchi raised his eyebrows. “Says the man who’s been avoiding me.”

A double blow of panic and then confusion struck him. He frowned and swiveled his head around. Snaking line at the counter, coffee scenting the air, a low hum of incomprehensible chatter: this was definitely the coffee shop he’d just discovered this morning and came to by himself and didn’t tell Harucchi about. “How’d you find me?”

“You should stop posting your location on Instagram if you don’t want to be found,” he offered with a gentle smile.

“You don’t live anywhere near here.”

“A teammate just moved to the neighborhood. It was pure luck I happened to be there while you happened to be here.” He ran his fingers against the edge of a plate by Eijun’s elbow, empty of all but crumbs. “It’s a cute shop. New haunt for you?” he asked, a touch too casual.

Eijun averted his eyes, lips pinching. He knew what Harucchi was really asking. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

“I’m doing fine,” Eijun insisted. “Really.”

“I’m glad you stopped feeling obligated to go to the other cafe.” His voice was barely loud enough to reach Eijun, covered by the clatter and call of employees, and a particularly rowdy group of seven students packed at a four person table next to his little corner.

“The old place got too many baristas who sucked,” Eijun lied. As if Harucchi didn’t already know that he’d only just shoved his pride aside enough to accept he’d lost his favorite coffee shop to the break-up. “Had to find a new one.”

Harucchi pried open the plastic lid to his coffee, blowing at the steam rising from the cup. He drew in a long, slow slip of his drink. “Maybe a fresh start here means a fresh start with the blog. Talk about grinding new beans, or something…?” Eijun blanched, well aware that Harucchi’s innocent reputation was a front.

“If you think I am going to subject my loyal followers to love advice using bean grinding as the topic—”

“You’ll have to excuse me if you had an idea in mind already. I’d thought from the keysmashing that you hadn’t.” Eijun aimed a kick at his shin under the table. Without looking, Harucchi crossed his legs, as if he’d planned on it for that exact moment all along instead of the attempt to dodge Eijun’s ire that it really was. “Is there a reason you can’t find an appropriate topic for your next post?”

Eijun cheeks puffed out, determined for two whole seconds not to tell Harucchi the truth, before blurting out, “I promised Wakana we’d wait a few months before officially announcing we broke up.” And yep—there it was, that classic Kominato passively skeptical look that circled past nonjudgmental so thoroughly that it ended up aggressively intimidating. The one that meant Harucchi was seconds away from bulldozing through all the nonsense he was seeing ahead of him. Eijun lived in terror of it. “She wanted to give us a chance to recuperate in private first,” he muttered, defensive.

“Eijun-kun.”

“I know, I know! A smart idea for people like Wakana, but I don’t…like wallowing like this. I can’t keep sitting here thinking about how much she doesn’t want me, and it’s all I want to write about. But I can’t post any of it. It’s been nearly two months, and I haven’t moved on. I’ve just gotten madder.”

“You two didn’t consider posting a small announcement saying you were over but you needed time? Space?”

“I couldn’t ask her.” Eijun subsided, spinning his teacup in its saucer with a single finger hooked through its tiny handle. “I owe her, Harucchi. The only reason I started lifestyle and romance blogging was because Wakana got me into it. I made my start on her profiles with her followers. Talking about her now? Why we broke up? Even if I want to, it sounds like betraying her. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m trying to talk shit about her, when we’re both in the same influencer circles.”

Harucchi tilted his head, and when Eijun didn't continue on after several seconds, he prompted, “There’s more.”

So much for the dumb jock stereotype.

“If I write it, then I feel like I’m giving up on her. On us ever being something together, again.” He crossed his arms onto the table, elbows shoving the dishes and laptop uncomfortably close to the edge of the small table, and laid his head on his forearms. He closed his eyes, and said quietly into his chest, “I still love her, Harucchi.”

“I know, Eijun-kun.” A warm hand squeezed his elbow. Between their silence, the monstrous table of college students packed up and left, and suddenly the shop settled into a calm Eijun needed.

He poked his head up from the comfort of his arms to stare at Harucchi. He was steadily sipping his coffee, one hand resting on Eijun’s elbow. His pink hair had pulled out of the bun at his nape and fell into windswept wisps framing his face and neck. He’d long since stopped wearing Ryou-san’s hand-me-downs in favor of softer, luxe sweaters and slacks, the only true expense he indulged in despite his lucrative status as a rising star for the Swallows.

Altogether, he looked gentle, dangerously so. On the diamond or off, it was easy to be lulled into a sense of security right before he whacked an unpleasant truth out of the park.

Harucchi pulled his hand back and apologized with a glance. Eijun wasn’t sure why…until he started speaking. “You make a living off of posting about your life—and romance, in particular. You’ve never hidden your past relationship troubles from your followers, however difficult it was to express. It’s part of your brand at this point.”

Eijun’s mouth twisted as he sat up. “Wakana isn’t a branding tool.”

“No one is saying that,” Harucchi said patiently. “What I am saying: you underestimate how much of your own work goes into your success. Aotsuki was certainly helpful—but your personality and your words are why people stay. People trust you.

“You’re good at what you do, Eijun-kun. You’re honest and kind in your observations, to yourself, to your partners, to strangers, despite how difficult and personal love is. When the time comes, whatever you post about Aotsuki will be the same.” Harucchi shrugged. “Also, I’ll edit out anything that makes you sound insensitive.”

Eijun let out a heavy sigh, stretching his arms into the air and shaking off the melancholy. “Thanks for not letting me fall on my own sword.”

“What are friends for?”

For all that he felt better, though, Eijun was still stuck staring at a blinking cursor at the end of a line of drivel. “That still doesn’t solve my problem. I don’t have a clue what to post next. The schedule I followed is trash now without personal updates of me and Wakana. I haven’t been able to binge any of the manga or shows I wanted to review, either. All I got left is the advice column, but if I keep that up with nothing else, I might as well change the blog name to Dear Eijun instead of Ace of Hearts.”

Harucchi stared at him, calculating out something as he took in Sawamura’s restlessness. “You don’t have to keep writing about romance.”

“That’s what I started the blog for.”

“But that’s not why you started writing and recording back at Seidou. You’ve had success with your baseball analysis and tutorials on YouTube and Instagram. You could even say you’ve been neglecting them to chase after romance.”

Eijun groaned, loud and theatrical enough to make the meek businessman behind him jump in shock. “Maybe if I got as much engagement talking about how stupid the idea of celebrity athletes are when it’s a team sport—”

“See?” he cut in, tilting his cup toward Eijun. “You already have a topic to post about.”

“Baseball is my hobby, not my job,” he said mulishly, jaw jutting out. “My dad wrecked his love of music that way! I’m not gonna risk hating baseball after he spent my whole life yelling at me not to ‘monetize my interests’ while holding me in a headlock. That’s asking for the biggest lecture of my life!”

“You can always stop if it’s not the direction you want to go. You’re not getting married to the idea.”

“Don’t bring up marriage, I just got dumped!”

Harucchi pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Fine, don’t think of it as a marriage,” he said. From Harucchi, the sliver of impatience he let free was the equivalent of hauling Eijun by the collar and shaking him down. “Flirt with baseball. Go on a few dates. Get a benefit or two out of it. Does the metaphor suffice now?”

Eijun gasped. “Harucchi! You’re too innocent for that sort of talk!”

“My brother is Kominato Ryousuke, and my best friend writes a blog about romance and sex that I edit,” he said, even as his quiet voice went squeaky and his face mottled bright red from embarrassment.

“Maybe I should change my blog to save you the embarrassment.”

“I also admit I have a request of you,” Harucchi said sheepishly, pressing a hand to his cheek. “The Swallows want me to get more heavily involved in PR this offseason, and I could use your help figuring out what I’d actually like to do instead of going along with every idea they propose. I’ve seen what they make the other players do, and I’m not interested in doing the exact type of promo they’ve done the past few seasons.”

Eijun crossed his arms and leaned back, chin tilting up defensively. “If you’re trying to convince me by pretending you need help—”

Harucchi shook his head, bangs bouncing across his forehead. “I hope you’ll find value or inspiration in it, too, but I was going to ask, regardless.” He grimaced into his cup. “The players who carry most of the strain of Swallows marketing are…otherwise occupied this offseason. I was volunteered to step in; management’s been wanting me to raise my profile for a while. I can’t really say no, so I may as well make the most of it.”

“I don’t want a pity job.”

“Please, be reasonable.” Harucchi smiled the shy, dreamy, polished smile the Swallows had been trying to splash across their advertising since he joined the team. “It’s a pity favor.”

Eijun snorted, relaxing into his chair again. “Fine,” he said, pulling open a clean document on his laptop. “Let’s brainstorm.”

#daiya no ace #daiya no a #misawa #daiya no ace fanfic #lolo's fic writing tag

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glitterblazercalum · 3 years

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got a river for a soul, and baby, you’re a boat

or: Oh, fuck. We showed up wearing matching couples’ costumes to this party by accident and now everyone thinks we’re together.” + cashton

hello and happy halloween everyone!! giant thank u to ainslee @ashesonthefloor for putting this event together!! and for forcing me to actually get this fic done, looking it over, and generally being a major source of serotonin in my life. another huge thank u to bella @clumsyclifford for being one of my favorite people and loving frat boys enough that it made me want to write a fic about them to annoy her <3 love you both <3

here is the link to the event masterpost bc I highly recommend checking out all of the other amazing fics:

https://ashesonthefloor.tumblr.com/post/633534107120549888/hello-welcome-to-my-halloween-fic-event

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 2,872

without further ado, please enjoy the fic I wrote mostly all last night while looping drag me down for thirteen hours straight :))

Calum doesn’t know what fuckhead came up with the idea of having a joint Halloween party for Sigma Nu and Sigma Pi this year, but he really wants to fight them. He thinks he’d probably have a lot of people on his side, considering how much Sig Nu and and Sig Pi hate each other, so he tucks the idea of interfraternity war away in his head as a contingency plan in case the party goes to shit, as joint parties with any other frat always seem to. And it’s not like it’s a one night thing, because all three days of the “Halloweekend,” as Michael refuses to stop calling it, are supposedly going to be spent with Sig Nu, one party at their own house, and two at the shithole that he assumes is the Sig Nu house, in some deranged attempt at bonding. He’ll be lucky to make it out alive, probably.

Before college, he really never did anything of his own for Halloween, mainly used to being used as a prop or side character for his sister Mali-Koa’s elaborate costumes, or, after she’d moved out, sticking a pair of fake fangs in his mouth to hand out candy to the few kids who rang the doorbell despite his efforts to keep all the lights in the house off. Last year, as a freshman, he’d gotten roped into a group costume with some of the other Sig Pi pledges, and while his memories are...hazy at best, he vaguely remembers falling asleep in a Teletubbies onesie at the end of the night.

This year, though, no one has tried to tell him what to dress up as, so it’s now a few hours before the first of the three parties, and Calum still has no ideas for what he should dress up as. A quick Google search for “cheap easy costumes” hadn’t really been all that helpful, so he decides to ignore the problem and take a nap until he actually has to leave.

A few hours later, Michael barges into the room to drag him out of bed, and looks around for a few seconds before asking, “You don’t have a costume, do you?”

Calum groans, pulling himself out of bed and wracking his brain for an idea that he can plausibly bullshit in the next few seconds, because he can’t let Michael be right and have something to tease him about, so he blurts, “I’m going to be a salt shaker.”

Michael gapes at him a bit for a few seconds before asking, “What the fuck? What kind of costume is that? What are you even going to wear for that?”

Calum mentally kicks himself in the shin, as hard as possible, because he really hasn’t thought this through. Why couldn’t he have just said cat or cowboy or something even slightly in the realm of normal Halloween costumes?

“Uhhh.. y’know that baseball tee I have? The one with the black sleeves and white middle?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s in my closet, but continue.”

“What the fuck, dude? Give it back!”

“You haven’t noticed that it’s missing for like three weeks, I just assumed it was mine now. Tell me what the rest of the costume is,” Michael demands.

“I’ll just tape a piece of paper with a big ‘S’ on it to the front of my shirt, and then put one of those pots with the holes on my head. Bam! Salt shaker!” Calum says, moderately impressed with his ability to pull stuff out of his ass this quickly.

“What makes you think we even have a colander?” Michael asks, crossing his arms.

Calum gives him a blank stare. “A what?”

“That’s what the pots with the holes are called, you idiot.”

“You think Harry would live anywhere that didn’t have a fully-stocked kitchen? There’s bound to be one in one of the cabinets or something.”

“Fine. I’ll go get the shirt while you look for the colander.” Before Calum can object, suggest that he look through Michael’s closet himself and steal back any of his other clothes that have somehow wound up there, Michael’s already halfway down the hallway.

Sighing, he trudges down the stairs towards the kitchen, where one of the seniors, Niall, is sitting with his head in his hands, dressed as a pirate.

“Hey, dude, nice costume,” Calum offers as a greeting. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find a colander, would you? I know Harry—”

“Do not talk to me about Harry right now,” Niall says, and Calum stops his search for a moment to send him a concerned look.

“What happ—”

“That needy-ass motherfucker thinks that just because I didn’t want to do a couples’ costume with him, it means I don’t love him anymore! Never mind the fact that he literally mentioned this idea to me yesterday, well past the point where everyone finalizes their costumes.”

Calum offers him a sympathetic look and offers, “Couples�� costumes are boring and cheesy anyways. Neither of you are missing out on anything, at least in my opinion.”

Niall lifts his head up from where he’d been repeatedly hitting it on the table to smirk at Calum and ask, “Have a lot of experience with couples’ costumes, do you?”

Luckily, Calum has finally found the colander, so he opts to ignore the question and just leave the kitchen entirely.

When he gets back upstairs, Michael’s in his room, unabashedly checking himself out in the mirror that’s on the back of the closet door. “Yeah, yeah, your anime character of the year looks great, now get out and let me get ready.”

Michael scoffs, “Get ready, as if you’re even doing anything,” but moves towards the door anyway.

Michael’s right, the costume is ridiculously easy to throw together, and two minutes later, they’re both out the door, walking across Fraternity Row to get to the Sig Nu house, where the music is already blaring and strobe lights throw red, then green, then blue shadows across everyone’s faces. On his way to the kitchen to grab a drink, he sees Niall and Harry walk into the house, holding hands and laughing together, so he assumes that their fight has blown over as quickly as all of their other fights always seem to.

He sees a few different trays of shots and decides he might as well take one to get the night started off right. After, he realizes that he probably shouldn’t grab a beer now, Mali’s rule about sticking to one color of booze for the night ringing in his head, so he settles for filling up a Solo cup with whatever glow in the dark gin concoction is in all the punch bowls. He wouldn’t put it past the Sig Nus to poison the drink on purpose, but it tastes relatively normal, so he grabs another cup for Michael and attempts to leave the kitchen, steering around the couple sloppily making out in the doorway.

It’s harder to spot Michael than it usually is, considering that at least half the people at the party are wearing some type of wig, but Calum eventually makes his way back over to him. He’s talking to Niall and Harry, and they both offer him a smile before continuing on with the conversation. Once that reaches a lull, Niall leans closer to Calum and says, “Mate, you didn’t need to lie to me about couples’ costumes.”

Calum has no idea what Niall is talking about, so he shakes his head and asks, “What are you talking about?”

Niall cackles, and Harry turns to look at him adoringly before going back to talking to Michael, and Calum is more confused than ever. Niall grabs his shoulder and spins him around and points in the direction of a clump of people. “You’re salt and he’s pepper, right? That’s such an obvious couples’ costume, although you two do seem to have a bit of a disconnect on how much effort you put in. That guy really went all out. And dude, why haven’t you told us that you have a boyfriend? You know we’d want to know about that, give him the Sig Pi seal of approval and all that. Wait. Unless he’s a Sig Nu, in which case, I don’t want to know because I’d probably have to kick you out. That’s a joke, by the way.”

Calum barely has the presence of mind to mumble, “He’s not my boyfriend,” before crossing the room to get to the guy in the hyper-realistic pepper grinder costume.

The guy smiles as Calum approaches, and despite the costume covering most of his body, Calum can tell that he’s cute. “Why so salty?” Pepper Guy greets, the sunshiney smile still on his face.

Calum smirks and replies, “Maybe I just need some more spice in my life.” Pepper Guy laughs, and just like everything else about him, it’s cute, and Calum wants to hear it again. “I’m Calum, by the way.”

“Ashton. Nice to meet you, man.”

Calum leans a little closer so that it’s easier to hold a conversation over the loud music and asks, “What’s the deal with the super realistic pepper grinder costume?”

Ashton makes a strange noise, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and says, “I got it off some random sketchy website, but it was supposed to be a chess piece. Something clearly went wrong somewhere in production, and my friend Luke said that I might as well sharpie a “P” onto it and just go with it.”

Calum makes a noise of agreement, mind stuck on a dumb idea. Before he can reconsider, he sends Michael a quick text that says if u’ve already taken over as dj, can u play that come grind w me song? and a few seconds later, he hears the opening notes and grins.

“Hey, Ashton?”

“Yeah?” Ashton replies, as realization slips across his face.

Right in time with the singer’s voice, Calum says, “Come grind with me,” and he laughingly pulls Ashton towards the makeshift dance floor. Neither of them can really dance, so it’s a mess of laughter and limbs flopping around, but Calum feels an unmistakable electricity between them too, and once the song is over, they stay for the next few, enraptured by each other. When they finally exhaust themselves with all the laughing and mock-twerking, Ashton asks Calum if he wants a refill, and when Calum nods, he grabs his hand and starts pulling him towards the kitchen.

Once they’re there, Calum goes for another serving of the glow in the dark punch, which is steadily dimming as the glow sticks run out of light. Since that’s really the only light source in the kitchen, Calum doesn’t see Ashton until he’s turning around and Ashton is right in front of him, reaching around him for a cup. Calum’s kind of trapped with his back against the counter, Ashton’s pepper grinder costume tall enough to really block out the view of the rest of the party, and the world narrows, all of it contained in where their eyes connect, and then, after Calum has safely set his drink back on the counter, that narrow point expands just a bit to where their mouths land on each other’s. The colander gets knocked off Calum’s head as he lifts himself up to sit on the counter, wrapping his legs around Ashton’s waist to pull him closer, as close as he can possibly get him.

Ashton’s sucking a mark into Calum’s neck when Calum has his first coherent thought of the past few minutes and pulls back, breathlessly asking “Wait, wait, you’re not a Sig Nu, are you?” fully expecting the answer to be no.

Ashton steps back a little too, and it takes him a second to register the question before he groans, “Of course you’re a fucking Sig Pi, that’s the only explanation that makes sense for me never seeing you anywhere before. You’re too hot for me to not notice otherwise.”

Calum flushes and mentally curses out whatever idiots had started the rivalry between Sig Nu and Sig Pi before he grabs his stupid colander off the ground and gives Ashton an awkward wave goodbye.

Once he’s out of the kitchen, he quickly glances around in search of Michael, and when he can’t immediately find him, he just gives up and leaves entirely. Fuck Sig Nu.

He spends most of the next day bitching about his hangover, and then, a few hours later, bitching about his hangover while helping to set up the house for that night’s party.

He doesn’t really have much more of a costume for tonight, throwing on a gray shirt and sharpie-ing some whiskers on his face. Michael takes pity on him and makes him a headband with an approximation of what they both think mouse ears are, and Calum is mildly entertained by going up to everyone and saying, “I’m a mouse, duh.”

His heart’s really not in the right place to party tonight, which is probably breaking the cardinal rule of being in a frat, so he sticks close to Michael, who has taken over the role of DJ, once again. Zayn from Alpha Sig strolls over after about half an hour, devil horns askew, and quietly says to Calum, “Cat and mouse, huh? Didn’t think you had it in you, Hood, that’s proper cute. Not as cute as me and Lou, mind you, but still, I respect the effort.”

Calum is reluctant to look up and see who he’s accidentally matching with today, because, with his luck, it’s probably another guy from Sig Nu. When he does eventually look up, he immediately makes eye contact with Ashton, who happens to be walking by, dressed in all black and with whiskers sharpie’d onto his face too. Calum wants to bang his head into a wall because the universe clearly hates him if it’s having him match with Ashton again. Even beyond that, Ashton looks so good out of the stupid pepper grinder and in all black that Calum wants to make out with him again.

Ashton is clearly having similar thoughts when he gestures Calum over and leads them towards a little pocket of quiet space in one of the lesser used hallways.

Calum really wants to hook his thumb into one of Ashton’s belt loops, so he does, as Ashton looks him up and down a few times. “Is the mouse costume your way of telling me you want me to chase you?”

Calum murmurs, “Shut up,” before leaning in to kiss him, frat rivalry be damned. It’s just as good as it was the night before, maybe even more so, now that the pepper costume isn’t in their way. At this point, there’s no denying the chemistry. It can’t be blamed on being drunk since Calum’s been nursing the same beer all night, and the part of his brain that’s protesting against being this close to a Sig Nu is getting smaller and smaller as he and Ashton continue to kiss.

They stay in that hallway for the rest of the night, eventually sliding down to sit on the ground, legs pressed together, sharing stupid stories about their respective frats. Calum’s surprised when the music shuts off because it feels like it’s only been an hour at most, that’s how easy it is to talk to Ashton. Ashton heaves himself up and reaches both hands down to help Calum up, too.

“I don’t think there’s any way you can match your costume to mine tomorrow, but I’ll come find you anyways,” Ashton says, as he leaves Calum with a kiss on the cheek.

Calum’s too wired to sleep much, so he opts to help clean up the house instead, and that takes up enough of his day that when nighttime rolls around, he’s stood staring at his closet without a costume idea for the third time in as many days. After ten minutes of consideration, he digs through one of his drawers to pull out the fake vampire fangs that he had somehow remembered to bring with him, and he goes down the hall to ask Jack to put some fake blood on his mouth and neck. Jack always goes all out for Halloween.

Once he’s at the party, he doesn’t have to wait long to find Ashton, who looks incredibly good in his werewolf costume. There’s fake blood on him too, which is really the only way their costumes could be understood to be matching, or so Calum thinks. Tonight, Jack and Alex are the ones to tease him, “You know what, I agree. Jacob and Edward should have ended up together, Bella was boring as shit.”

Calum’s really not bothered by the comments at all, so much so that he’s already thinking of couples’ costumes ideas for next year when he finds his way over to Ashton and whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Are you trying to make a move on me? I’m a respectable Sigma Nu, I don’t know if I can allow that.”

Calum laughs and tugs him out the door, “Told you I wanted some more spice in my life.”

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glacecakes · 4 years

Text

Alchemy Lullaby (7/?)

Of all the changes that came with living in the castle, becoming a father was not one he anticipated. When Eugene encounters a small child suffering like he did, he gives them the opportunity to grow up the way he never did... helping them both heal. (AU where Varian is 4 and gets adopted by Eugene)

Part 7: Varian spends his first Christmas with his family. There is no actual plot it's just fluff

Read the rest on AO3

Part of an art trade for the lovely @finnoky once again! Finn is my partner in crime on this au so major shout out to him <3 Yes we are aware it is Halloween season but a) the timeline dictates Christmas and b) JUST LET ME HAVE MY CHRISTMAS SEROTONIN

Also a massive shoutout to the Scar Varian discord, who's support has cured my depression. And all of you! Seriously, the love for this fic is insane I don't know how to handle it lol. If you want more baby Varian content dm me! The Scar Varian server is where we brainstorm baby ideas like, daily. And it's a riot. If you have any ideas you wanna see for this AU send me an ask! Also the next chapter is gonna be a world of pain enjoy this while it lasts

The castle was abuzz with joy. The maids flitted around the halls, some even humming as they strung up lights and garlands. The frosted windows shone light through their wreaths, basking everything in a wintery-white glow. Even Old Lady Crowley seemed less angry than normal, barking out orders at only half volume.

Spinning around, Rapunzel hums an old Christmas song. She’s always loved this time of year! Christmas was watching snow, and cuddling up by the fire with chocolate, and cooking gingerbread…! There was so much to be excited about! Even if she never had an official Christmas with her family yet, her steps were light as a feather, confident in this year’s success. Her previous Christmases had been quiet, just her and sometimes Gothel. Now, she had a mother, a father, a boyfriend, and his son! To think, exactly one year ago she never would have thought this could be possible.

The princess twirled to a stop in the throne room. The place was decked to the nines, ribbons and garland and all sorts of red decorated every inch. And in the corner sat a perfect pine, already decorated head to toe. The candles shone down on a confused, pudgy face.

Varian tugged at one of the ornaments. Not hard enough for it to fall, but enough for it to jingle.

Oh, that’s right! She’s not the only one celebrating a first Christmas with family!

The little boy fiddled with the pine needles, marvelling at the bristles and poking soft fingers into needles. He stuck his tongue out and stood on his tiptoes, reaching for a candy cane tied to a higher branch. If only he was a little taller…!

Strong, warm hands wrapped around his stomach and lifted him skyward.

“Need a hand?”

Varian looked up at the princess and beamed. “Hi Punzel!”

“Hello, Varian. Did you want the candy cane?”

Varian blinked, confused. “No, I wanted the red hook.” He grabbed the candy cane off the tree and held up his prize. “See?”

“That’s a candy cane, but it’s just for decoration. If you want actual candy canes, you can head down to the kitchens.” the princess gently took the decor from his hands.

He frowned, trying to commit the term to memory. “What’s it for?”

“The candy canes?”

“No, the tree!” He yelled right into her ear.

“Woah, inside voice.” Varian zipped his lip. “It’s for Christmas.”

“Ooooh. What’s that?” he asked.

Rapunzel’s smile fell off her face near instantly. How do you explain a holiday to a toddler…?

“Well, um,” she started. “It’s a day where we all get together and celebrate being a family. We exchange gifts under the tree, and eat snacks, and sing songs… there’s a lot of stuff to do! It’s very fun, you’ll like it a lot, I promise.”

Thankfully, that seemed to satisfy him. “Celebrate family… like momma?”

“More like you, and me, and Eugene,” Well, and Cass and Lance and her parents, but no overwhelming the baby. Little at a time.

Baby blue eyes glanced down at the floor. “But… momma is family.”

There was no denying the wasps in her heart, stinging at the mention of Varian’s mother. How they burrowed deep, whispering how the boy saw Eugene as his father, but not Rapunzel as his mother. It was selfish, she knew it. Varian was much closer to Eugene, he was practically the man’s shadow. But as Eugene’s girlfriend (and hopefully future wife), there was no denying the wish for Varian to see her in a similar light.

Varian still saw that woman as family? That’s ok, he still needed time. Or maybe he’d always see her as family. That was ok too. But hopefully, they could assure Varian that his real family, his loving family, was there for him this Christmas.

“Varian,” she whispered, gently lifting his chin to face him. “Family loves you, protects you. It’s ok if you still love your momma, but you weren’t safe with her. That’s why you have us now! We’re your family too, and we’ll celebrate Christmas with you, ok?”

Varian nodded weakly, wrapping short arms around her waist. Outstretched arms squeezed him tight. Then, he broke off, skittering out of the throne room and likely towards the kitchen for those treats.

Rapunzel sighed as she watched him go. He was a smart little thing, learning faster than anyone could teach. On more than one occasion she spotted the precocious kid trying to heave a too heavy book around the library. One thing he was particularly fond of were the sciences. From Astronomy to Zoology, Varian ate it all up, greedily grabbing any book that even looked like it was informational. He was also a big fan of the Flynn Rider series, but that may be more because Eugene was so eager to share it with him. Ever since Lance told him Eugene used to be Flynn Rider, Varian assumed he’d meant the book Flynn, and his love for his dad became near fervent in nature.

But while Varian adored learning about the world around him, there were certain things he struggled to pick up. Social cues were a big one. He was dreadfully shy around strangers, and a little hellion to those he knew. On one memorable occasion, Varian had insisted on dressing himself, resulting in a day of backwards shirts and missing pants. Anytime Eugene tried to fix it, he’d screamed like the man was stabbing him.

Poor Eugene had needed a drink after that.

The point is, Varian loved to learn, but he still struggled with sociability, not unlike Rapunzel when she first came home. It sounded like he grew up in the same way, isolated from other people, relying only on a controlling mother. Thankfully, Varian was saved at a much younger age. Rapunzel could only pray that meant he’d flourish now.

Varian struggled to understand the world around him sometimes.

There were some things he understood perfectly well, like how Ruddiger was his friend. There were some things he knew were true but didn’t really get why, like how his family hated his momma. And there were some things he was completely lost on, which in this case, was Christmas.

Everyone around him was so cheery, so lively, even more so than usual. Whenever he asked why, he got the same answer: It’s almost Christmas! Christmas is tomorrow! But when he asked what Christmas was, what Rapunzel meant by singing and eating and gifts, everyone had a different answer! How was he supposed to figure it out if everyone had a different idea of what Christmas was?

Everyone was busy preparing for… something. Varian wasn’t sure what. A party, maybe? So soon after the last one? That party sucked, but at least he got to introduce Ruddiger to everyone.

After that debacle, Eugene hadn’t been so keen on letting Varian keep the baby raccoon. The boy wasn’t even 5 yet, how was he supposed to care for his own pet? Rapunzel mentioned she’d been about his age when she met Pascal, but apparently a chameleon and raccoon are two very different things. Bummer.

Eventually, they settled on a compromise: Ruddiger was an outdoor animal who belonged outdoors, but during the winter and night he was allowed to be inside. And once Varian got older, he might be allowed to keep Ruddiger full time!

Since it was snowing today, Ruddiger got to happily trail the child, keeping close to his feet as they traversed the castle. He said hi to the maids and guards as he walked by, but right now, Varian was trying to find his family. He technically wasn’t allowed to wander the castle alone, but King Frederick was really the only stickler about that rule. Varian had survived 6 months on the street, he could survive the short walk to and fro.

Just as he passed the kitchens, a sweet smell tickled his nose, followed by a deep, familiar voice singing. His pet noticed it too, already waddling into the kitchen. Varian followed, and sure, enough, Eugene’s best friend was there.

“Hi Lance!” Varian squeaked. He latched onto the burly man’s legs.

Lance leaned down from his place by the stove. He’d just finished taking the gingerbread out of the oven, the golden brown sizzling on the sheet. Carefully, so as not to drop the sheet on the child, Lance set the cookies down with one hand and ruffled black hair with another.

“Hey there, kiddo! I thought I told you to call me Uncle Lance,” he grinned at how Varian squirmed under his palm.

Varian giggled. “Eugene said you’re not really my uncle.” Those giggles doubled at Lance’s mock offended face.

“After everything we’ve been through, after all I’ve done for him, and he won’t call me a brother!” He gripped his chest, and his knees sunk to the floor. “It hurts… my heart…” with an overdramatic wail, Lance fell back and squished Varian to the floor. His weight wasn’t entirely on this child, he didn’t want to crush him, but it was enough to send Varian sprawling.

Honestly, Varian didn’t get why Eugene was so against him calling Lance his uncle. He didn’t even know what an Uncle was! Shrieking laughter emanated from the toddler. “Lance!! Get off!” He said.

“Sorry, can’t, Lance is dead.”

“Nooooo!”

“Yesssss, the only cure,” the thief sighed, “Is for a brave, smart kid to call him… uncle…”

“Uncle Lance!” Varian shrieked. “Uncle Lance get off!” Almost instantly he sat upright, freeing his prisoner.

“I live!” He cried, scooping Varian up and standing. “Thank you, sweet child!” He smushed their cheeks together in joy, only letting go when he had to bat Ruddiger away from his creation.

“No bud! Gingerbread is bad for raccoons… probably,”

Varian hadn’t heard that word before. “Gingerbread?” It smelled so good, surely Lance wouldn’t mind if he stole one, right? The guy adored him.

“Ah-ah!” Lance spun away from the stove, cookies now out of reach. He ignored the whines. “Gingerbread cookies can only be eaten if they’re decorated.” Setting Varian on a nearby counter, the man grabbed a few icing pipettes and candy pieces. “Gingerbread men need gingerbread clothes!”

The next hour was filled with messy cookies and sprawling icing. White sugar covered nearly every surface, as Varian couldn’t figure out the right pressure to use a pipette. Eventually he gave up, letting Lance do the drawing while he added buttons and eyes in the form of candies. Every so often, Varian would hand a small treat to Ruddiger, enjoying fuzzy whiskers that tickled his hand. It was a comfortable silence, both of them invested in their individual activity. By the time Lance finally spoke again, the sun had tracked across the room and shone through the window.

“So,” he said, tongue sticking out as he drew a face onto his cookie. “Why Eugene?” His companion stuck his head up, confused. He licked the sugar off his fingers. “What about him made you want to stay with him?”

Varian glanced down, deep in thought. “He’s nice,” he started. “He gives me lots of hugs, and makes me laugh.”

“Yea? What else?”

“Eugene is… super cool! He’s pretty, and he let me keep Ruddiger, and he loves me…” his small voice trailed off. The heat from sunlight warmed his bones, layering him in laziness. A yawn escaped him.

He was just about to doze off, mind still trying to think of compliments, when soft knocking shook him awake. Cassandra nodded at him, bundled up in her winter coat.

“It’s high time someone got fresh air,” She said in her monotone voice, so Varian slid off the counter to join her. He waved to Lance on the way out, and off they went.

No sooner than they left, Rapunzel peeked her head in. “Hey Lance! I have an idea…”

Ruddiger zoomed ahead, happily digging up snow and dirt to catch a meal. The winter sun was bright yet also weak, sparkling off snow mounds. Varian’s small boots kicked up powder as he walked, each step more exaggerated than need be. He gripped Cassandra’s hand tightly. Out of everyone Varian frequently interacted with, she scared him the most… except maybe for the King. But he trusted her not to let him get hurt, not after saving him from the Stabbingtons.

Sure enough, she whispered “Careful, it’s slippery.” And lifted him up and over the patch of ice with just her hands.

“Wow, you’re really strong,” She raised her eyebrow at him.

“I have to be, it’s my job to keep Rapunzel safe.”

Just Rapunzel? Not him, not Eugene? What about the king? Didn’t they need protecting? Thankfully, Cassandra saw his confused face and smiled faintly. “And you, someone’s gotta clean up after you.”

“Eugene said it’s rude to leave things for the maids to clean up.”

A look akin to shock overtook her face. She stopped walking, temporarily startled, forcing Varian to stop with her. “He said that?” A nod. “Huh. Guess he’s not a terrible father after all.”

That caught the child’s attention. Rage simmered in his gut, bubbling and twisting his insides around. He glared up at her with a look he hoped was intimidating, but judging by her veiled laughter, he’d failed. A booted foot stomped the snow, and by his side small black spikes sprouted. It wasn’t noticeable, only as tall as his shoelaces, but it was there regardless. Just as fast as it appeared, the rage fell down his body and leaked out into the earth.

“Don’t call Eugene bad,” Varian pouted, cheeks puffing up and lip jutting out. “He’s the best!”

“Oh yea? Why’s that?” Cassandra teased, resuming their walk.

“He’s a reallllllly good reader. Like, really good. And he’s smart,” That got a laugh. “And he saved me!”

“So did I,” she reminded him, but that just got her frustrated boot shuffles. At last the handmaiden took pity on him. “Ok, ok. I’m sorry I called Eugene a bad dad. He loves you very much, and you love him.” He preened.

He went to speak, but soft crunches interrupted his train of thought. From around the bend, two familiar and burly men step into view.

“...no word from either of them, but Hector never answers my letters anyway-” Quirin was speaking, with Frederick hanging onto his every word. Their faces were both solemn, stoic and businesslike. Whatever they were talking about, it was likely serious. But the seriousness evaporates when Quirin catches sight of the young child. “Hello there!” Frederick’s face remains impassive, but he seems to let the subject drop. At least for now.

Something about Quirin just screams welcoming to Varian. It’s strange. His time on the streets as well as his encounter with the Stabbingtons should have made Varian terrified of men like him, but Quirin’s autumn scent and warm smile relaxed Varian. He grinned his toothy smile and waved.

“Your majesty,” Cassandra bowed. The King nodded, and she stood back up. He gave Varian a nod as well, but he had no idea to react. Bow? Smile? Hide? All of those options sounded like a bad idea, so he just stood still for now.

“Hello, Cassandra, Varian.” The latter name was said with a hint of apprehension. “Enjoying the weather?”

“Yes sir,” The lady-in-waiting responded, and she gently nudged Varian. He nodded frantically, so fast his head might as well have flown off. Quirin seemed amused, at least.

“Don’t stay out too long, we don’t want this young man to catch a cold,” Quirin ruffled Varian’s hair, and the child blushed.

“We won’t, sir.” Cassandra bowed to him as well. Satisfied, they moved on, leaving Varian and Cassandra to finish their walk around the castle ground. “Cassie? Who is Quirin?”

She seemed surprised by the question. “Who is he? I think he’s an advisor, or something.”

“A what?”

“He helps the king.”

Varian’s mouth dropped open in an “o” shape. Who knew Kings needed help? Not him, that’s for sure!

“Come on, let’s go inside, it’s getting cold.” She led him away, until Varian couldn’t see either man when he turned around.

“As I was saying, Adira is hard to track down, but-” Quirin’s words halted as he stumbled over something. “What the…” A small cluster of black rocks, innocent and unflinching. The men shared a nervous glance.

When Cassandra dropped Varian off inside, she watched as Varian toddled off to find Eugene, turned around, and came face to face with a Rapunzel grinning like a maniac.

The princess covered her friend’s mouth before she could scream. “Come on! I need your help. We only have a few more hours!” Without any explanation, Cass found herself being dragged off to god knows where.

Waking up on the early side was not new to Varian. Ever since he’d come to the castle, Eugene would drag him out of bed no later than 9:30 am. And he’d learned to adapt, even if Varian preferred to get up when the sun’s rays were directly overhead. But 7 was really pushing it.

“Noooo!” He whined, clutching his sheets like a lifeline. “I don’t wanna get up!”

Eugene grunted from where he was holding his legs. For a 4 year old Varian had a hell of a grip. “Come on, kid, you can go back to sleep when we’re done if you want! Don’t have to change out of your pjs either. But you gotta get up now or you’re gonna miss your surprise.”

“Nooooo!” Varian wailed, burying his head into the duvet.

“Yesssss.”

With one final tug, Eugene managed to dislodge his child from his bed, sending them both sprawling on the floor. They laid there for a moment. Eugene questioned his life choices as Ruddiger rounded the bed and licked his face.

He carried Varian down the corridor to the throne room. At this early hour, the only people about were night shift guards preparing to turn in. A strange quiet filled the castle, a sense of peace lingered. It would be a nice experience if Varian wasn’t bone-tired. Honestly who decided that 7 am was a normal time to get up? It was understandable during the summer, but not at Christmas!

Grand doors swung upon, revealing the same setup as yesterday, only several people sat under the tree. Familiar blonde hair swung around to reveal Rapunzel’s exuberant face. By her side stood her family plus Lance and Cass, all looking tired but content. Presents sat scattered, surrounded by pine needles that had fallen.

“Merry Christmas!” She cried as she stood up and ran over. Both boys found themselves in a trademark bear hug. “It’s our first Christmas as a family, how exciting!”

“Sunshine, you’re squishing meeee!” Eugene wheezed, face turning red. The princess paid him no heed, leading him (and by extension, Varian) over to the pile. Several gifts with multiple names in fun colors and patterns awaited them. It was at this time Varian realized he knew how to read most things, but his name was not one of them. Thankfully, Rapunzel was eager to hand out everyone’s gifts. Slowly Varian’s pile grew larger and larger.

Cassandra winced. “I think you went a little overboard, Raps,”

“Nonsense! What makes you say that?” Cassandra pointed to where Varian sat by a pile larger than himself. He leaned against Eugene, eyes drooping.

The man rustled his shoulder. “Wake up, kiddo, open your presents.”

“My what?”

“All those boxes, they’re for you! They have fun stuff inside them.”

“Like what?”

The gathering broke into chuckles. “Why don’t you find out?” asked Arianna.

Curious eyes grabbed the largest box and fingers ran across its paper. Happy snowmen decorated the outside, and he was loathe to destroy it. But Rapunzel gave him a thumbs up, and that was all the invitation needed. With a war cry, Varian ripped off smiling snowmen with claw and fang. Even Ruddiger joined in on the mayhem, happily shaking his head as he held a piece of wrapping paper. The box gave way to…. Another box? But this one was on wheels.

A cart! A painted cart! It was light blue, just like his hair, and painted on the side was a name. Varian ran his fingers over it in confusion.

“Ruddiger,” Eugene whispered. “It says Ruddiger. So he can stay with you.” Varian’s eyes lit up in understanding. Without any pomp, he scooped up the raccoon and plopped him straight into the cart, much to Ruddiger’s confusion. Then, like a shot out of a canon, they were off. Varian screeched with delight as he zoomed around the throne room, wheels clacking against the marble floor as Ruddiger chittered in similar joy.

“So, I think he likes it!” Rapunzel chimed.

“He better,” Cassandra muttered. She was not a fan of staying up till midnight to help Rapunzel wrap her last-minute Christmas gifts. Lance got to do the easy part, too. All he had to do was sign! Meanwhile Cassandra nearly broke her nail for that one gift.

“Varian, you can play with that some more after the rest of your gifts! Come say thank you!” Eugene called. The child skidded to a stop, happily launching himself at Rapunzel for a hug.

“Thank you Punzel! Love you!” He pressed a wet kiss to her cheek. It should’ve been gross, but to her, it was perfect.

Eugene smiled from his seat on the floor. It was pretty damn perfect to him too.

#tangled #tts #tangled the series #varian #tts varian #team awesome #tangled eugene #eugene fitzherbert

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Not Nineteen Forever (4) (Branjie/Scyvie)- Ortega

a/n: i am absolutely hanging out my arse so editing and re-reading this chapter made me feel vaguely ill. i’ll pass it off as method acting xo thank you so much for the continued love and support for this fic, the fact that each chapter so far has broken 100 notes makes me piss my pants with excitement (watch now i’ve jinkxed it and this one’ll get like 8). in this installment Scarlet finds it hard to believe that she isn’t Victoria Beckham.

Trigger Warnings: explicit drug use, alcohol. unaaay.

Summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree

***

Scarlet had to admit, she was enjoying the high life. As she sat up the back of the lecture theatre in the new fur coat she wasn’t planning on taking off anytime soon, blinking heavily with her £75 lash extensions, drumming her £50 acrylics against her notepad, she smiled to herself. This was definitely the kind of life she was suited to. Okay, she got a bit of a shock when the rent left her bank account, as well as her gas and electricity bills, but she still had a good amount there. Clenching her stomach, Scarlet thought about the number on her banking app. £3713.65. Slightly giddy, she pressed her lips together as she thought about it. How could she have spent over a thousand pounds in the space of two weeks? She thought through it in her mind. Rent, £550. Electricity, £30 split with Ra’Jah. Gas, £25, also split with Ra’Jah. But that only came to what…just under six hundred pounds? There was still so much unaccounted for. Scarlet thought about how much she’d paid for on nights out, the two shopping trips she’d been on since her scratchcard win, and the many, many Ubers she’d taken pretty much everywhere. It was time to reign the spending in.

It was crazy how much confidence it was giving her, though. Even on the group chat Scarlet felt self-assured enough to throw out barbs every so often, the girls all responding with keyboard smashes and capitalised laughter and giving her a boost of serotonin. It had even made her feel more confident around Yvie. Scarlet felt weird about the whole Yvie thing. Now that she’d realised she liked her, she didn’t really know what to do about it. She knew she would do something, she promised herself, as if she ended up in a situation like Vanjie’s she would scream. Scarlet cast a glance to the girl beside her, frantically typing notes into her laptop and listening intently. Bored, Scarlet took her fluffy-topped pen and wrote on her notepad, pushing it Vanjie’s way.

Lunch after this?

She watched as Vanjie looked down at her writing, looked back up, then nodded once. Scarlet smiled, glad that she had something to look forward to. It had been a while since she’d had a catchup with Vanjie, and part of her was excited to see if there had been any progress made between her and Brooke. Scarlet then realised it was a little selfish of her to think that way and, realising she hadn’t confided in anyone about her crush on Yvie yet, she decided she’d let Vanjie in on her secret.

When the lecture finished up they decided they would go for lunch at the Mexican place in town. It was a slightly longer walk than anywhere on campus but Vanjie was good company, chatting away happily about something funny her Mum had done back home and distracting Scarlet from the cold weather. They eventually reached the restaurant and got sat at a table, despite the fact Scarlet could have stood under the heaters that were blasting by the entrance forever. She watched as Vanjie shrugged her huge coat off then leant forward.

“So, how’s your lovely flatmate?” Vanjie asked, Scarlet letting out a snort and rolling her eyes.

“Our oven’s broken. She’s saying I broke it,” she explained, Vanessa tilting her head with intrigue.

“Why? What did you do?”

“I don’t know. Used it to cook food,” Scarlet said, her laugh giving away her monotone voice and causing Vanjie to giggle too. “It’s exhausting living with her! She just hates me for no reason! I swear she’s going to turn up by my bed in the middle of the night with a knife and her pillow to smother me with.”

“But then she’d have no-one to blame for the shit that goes wrong in the flat.”

“True. If I’m ever found murdered, though, you know who it was,” Scarlet raised her eyebrows knowingly, Vanessa having to stop herself from laughing as a waitress arrived at their table and took their drinks orders. Vanessa ordered a Corona and Scarlet almost joined her, then realised that beer on a lunch break when she still had a lecture in the afternoon was risky. She got a blood orange San Pellegrino instead. As the waitress walked away, Scarlet continued. “How’s Silky and Akeria? I’ve not seen them since last Saturday.”

“They’re good. Akeria’s stressing about Masters applications, even though I keep telling her every uni is gonna be fallin’ over themselves to accept her. Silk is fine. She’s always fine. I think she’s made peace with the fact she’s probably going to get a 2:2.”

“Nothing wrong with a 2:2,” Scarlet shrugged, even though she knew that if she was on course for a 2:2 she’d be crying as if her life was over.

“That’s true. Degree’s a degree. Still gon’ cry like a baby if I don’t get a 2:1 though,” Vanessa frowned, brightening up as the waitress returned and put their drinks in front of them.

“You will,” Scarlet said. It hadn’t been a lie- even though she only saw Vanessa working towards part of her PPE degree, she always seemed on the ball with lecture notes, got good grades in her essays, and you could never shut her up in tutorials. The other girl still narrowed her eyes at her as she took a drink.

“You have to say that, though. You’re my friend,” Vanessa said, Scarlet brightening up at the validation of her friendship. She’d never known if Vanessa had liked her at first, but over the years they’d eventually settled into being comfortable with each other. Vanessa sighed. “I worked out that if I want a 2:1 I need to get above 65% in everything until the end of the year.”

“That’s doable!” Scarlet insisted, pouring her can into the glass in front of her. She frowned and shook her head. “Anyway, let’s not worry any more about uni. How’s Brooke Lynn?”

Vanessa slid down in her seat and covered her face with the menu. “I don’t know, bitch, ask her.”

“You know what I mean! How are things going? Any progress?”

Vanessa screwed up her face. “I mean, I don’t know. Kind of? Maybe? It’s so hard to tell with that bitch.”

“What’s the maybe?”

“So last Monday we went for a drink after we went to the library. We were just talkin’ and somehow…I don’t even know how we got onto this topic…we started talkin’ about how we were…y'know, like in bed.”

Scarlet let out a screech. “OH my God. Amazing. How is that a maybe in any way?!”

“Nah, well, you know,” Vanessa smiled bashfully, fanning herself with the menu which neither of them had so much as glanced at. “It started to get deep and then I did my classic ha ha ha what a big joke this is I’m definitely not takin’ this serious in any way thing I always do with her. I think I made it awkward, ‘cuz I’ve not seen her since then. I mean we’ve talked on the chat but…yeah.”

Scarlet pouted, feeling sorry for her friend. “Oh, Vanj, no. It won’t be that at all. You know her and Plastique have got their portfolios due next week, she’ll just be busy!”

Vanessa bit her lip, then smiled slowly. “How about if I organise a lil somethin’ to take her mind off her work, then?”

Scarlet took a sip of her drink. “You’re going to turn up to her flat wearing nothing but a massive bow playing The Stripper through your phone speaker.”

As Vanessa howled, Scarlet realised a little too late that someone had come to take their order. She asked for five more minutes, neither of them having looked at the menu yet and having only used it as a prop for embarrassment.

“No, bitch,” Vanessa wheezed, finally getting her breath back. “Let’s see if we can get her to come out tonight.”

Scarlet felt her brows pulling together involuntarily. “On a Wednesday? She’ll be too responsible.”

Vanessa sighed and gave the menu a cursory glance. “Couldn’t we at least try? I just need to know if I’ve made things awkward so I can go about trying to fix them. Although how the fuck I’d do that, I don’t know.”

“I guess you could put it on the chat?” Scarlet shrugged.

Gleefully, Vanessa bounced about in her chair and grabbed her phone decisively, immediately typing. She put it back face-down on the table almost as quickly as she’d picked it up. “It’s sent. Although now we’re running the risk of everyone being free apart from Brooke Lynn, and if I’m honest I really don’t have the energy to go out otherwise.”

“We’re getting old,” Scarlet shrugged, her eyes scanning over tostadas, taquitos and empanadas without really being able to focus on any of them. “Do you remember the days when you could manage two nights out back to back?”

“I remember the days I could manage two nights out in one night,” Vanessa laughed, running a hand through her hair and exhaling. “Scarlet, why am I nervous? Tell me why I’m nervous.”

“Because you’ve just orchestrated a night out with our whole friendship group just so you can see one member of it. Instead of, you know. Asking her on a date,” Scarlet smiled teasingly, Vanessa laughing in self-depreciation. It occured to Scarlet that she still hadn’t told Vanessa about Yvie. “That reminds me-”

Just then she was cut off as the waitress appeared again at their table. Scarlet couldn’t bear to send her away again so she quickly ordered some fish tacos and some sort of cheesy beany quesadilla she had no idea the other ingredients of. Vanessa rapidly fired off an order for a pulled chicken burrito and pork taquitos which, Scarlet could glean from a quick glance at the menu, seemed to be served with radioactive levels of spice. As the waitress walked away, Scarlet frowned.

“Are those taquitos not really spicy?”

“Meh. I don’t mind spice. Worst case scenario I’ll have to install scaffolding round my ass for the next three days after I eat ‘em,” Vanessa shrugged and then leaned forward, hardly giving time for Scarlet to laugh at what she’d just said. “You said ‘that reminds me’ after we were talkin’ about dates, what’s up with that?”

“Oh uh, nothing,” Scarlet smiled shyly as she picked at a bit of dripped candle wax on the tabletop. “Just that I’m joining you in the crushing-on-my-best-friend club for the foreseeable future.”

Vanessa’s face lit up. “What is this?!”

Scarlet felt cheeks flush red as she said it. “I…think I have a crush on Yvie.”

Vanessa let out a quick screech of delight, drawing the gaze of a dining couple sitting at the opposite side of the room. Hushing herself, she leant close to Scarlet and continued. “Oh my God! Bitch! I love this. This is amazing. Aw, you’d be so cute together! I knew you were touchy with each other but I always thought that was just how your friendship was.”

“It is how our friendship is!” Scarlet protested, then put her head in her hands to cover her cheeks as she smiled. “I just…realised I like being touchy with her a little too much to be friendly.”

“Oh, I got it. You wanna be touchy with her in a different way,” Vanessa winked suggestively, Scarlet squealing in mortification and both the girls ending up howling with laughter. As the laughter died down, Vanessa smiled. “Well, welcome to the world of crushing on a friend, boo. It’s amazing, electric, and largely horrific. And painful. I’m not selling this well.”

“It sounds slightly sadomasochistic.”

“That’s actually what you get if you Google it,” Vanessa nodded faux-seriously, then put on a funny, posh-sounding voice. “If you liked getting shocked by a disused electrical socket twenty-five times in a row, perhaps you’d like: crushing on your best friend!”

Scarlet laughed, then shot a glance down at her phone as it sat face-down on the table. “I’m kinda hoping Yvie comes out tonight too now.”

“Ooh! We should check the chat,” Vanessa said, pouncing on her phone and her face dropping as she looked. Scarlet opened her own to see what had been said.

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: me n Scarlet wanna go out tonight who’s down

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: BITCH ARE U CRAZY WE AINT FRESHERS ANY MORE

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: I GOTTA DATE WITH BRADLEY WALSH AND WHOEVER THE CHASER IS TODAY

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Girl we all know The Chase starts at 5pm you gotta think of a better excuse

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Sorry boo I’m out

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: BITCH BACK TO BACK EPS ON CHALLENGE TV FROM 7 THANK U NEXT

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Need to be at the library early if I wanna get that 1st

Kim Kardashian-West: Placement :((((((( sorry babyyy

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: I’ll see yall at pres though

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: I’m guessing they’re gonna be at ours

Okay Then: Sorry girls our portfolios are due in like 9 days

Okay Then: big celebrations after though!!

Dave the Laugh: i’d actually be down

Scarlet felt guilty as her heart gave a jump, Vanessa sitting dejectedly across from her. “Hey, chin up! She’s not replied yet.”

“If Plastique is sayin’ no, she’ll be a no too,” she jerked her mouth to the side in a pained attempt at a smile. “Your girl’s down though, that’s good!”

“Stop. She’s not my girl.”

“Yet,” Vanessa smiled, a glint of disappointment still present in her eyes. Just then, Scarlet’s phone lit up in her hand.

mose: I’m going to follow the tradition of my entire university career making poor life choices and say yeah I’d be up for a night out

Scarlet looked with anticipation across to Vanessa, whose eyes were wide with excitement. She didn’t seem to know that she had a beaming smile on her face, and Scarlet couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, happy for the girl opposite her. “See? Good news!”

“Oh my God. It’s gonna be me, you, Yvie and Brooke Lynn. Fuckin’ double date night out,” Vanessa’s eyes scrunched up as she laughed happily. Scarlet felt her pulse start racing, nerves taking hold of her already. She was excited, though, for some time with Yvie in a slightly smaller setting. She hadn’t grabbed a coffee or done anything with just her in a while, and even though this wasn’t the ideal setting, it was still an opportunity. Vanessa was back typing quickly into her phone, and Scarlet watched the group chat progress.

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: yall suck apart from Yvie and BrookeLynn

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: come to mine for 9 then bitches! Xoxoxoxo

Mose: See ya then boo

Scarlet turned over her phone and raised an eyebrow at Vanessa. “You’re her boo.”

“Yeah fuck y’all bitches, I’m Brooke Lynn’s lil’ ghost,” she smiled and gave her hands a quick clap together in excitement, Scarlet spluttering a laugh at her friend’s adorable reaction. Just then, their food arrived and got placed down in front of them.

“Oh hey, can I grab another Corona?” Vanessa asked, holding up her empty one. The waitress took it and nodded, and Vanessa gave Scarlet a guilty look. “I should really head to the library after this but I’mma go back home and nap, then spend the next four hours gettin’ ready. Fuck, I don’t even know how I’m gonna afford goin’ out tonight.”

Scarlet took a bite of a taco, then thought. Lunch was only going to come to about forty-ish pounds altogether, and really, what was that out of her winnings? She swallowed, looked to Vanessa, and smiled.

“Hey. I’ll get us lunch,” she shrugged, shifting a little in her seat as Vanessa blinked at her.

“Serious? No, Scarlet, I can’t let you do that.”

“Honestly! My loan came in early,” she said, looking down at her plate as she lied. “Think of it as a celebratory, double-date-crush-night-out-whatever-the-fuck-this-is treat. And you can buy me a drink or something when we go out, call it even.”

As a waiter came by and placed another bottle in front of Vanessa, she gave a smile and raised it. “To coming out on the other side of tonight with girlfriends?”

Scarlet smiled as she clinked her glass against Vanessa’s beer. “Let’s not push it.”

The rest of her lunch with Vanessa passed by comfortably, Scarlet paying the bill when they were finished without a second thought and the girls saying goodbye with a hug and an excited squeal in anticipation of later on. Part of Scarlet wanted to head straight to the shops to look for something new to wear but she stopped herself, instead getting in an Uber and going back to the flat, the prospect of her returning to campus for her 3pm lecture growing thin. Turning the keys in her front door, she sighed when she heard loud music coming from Ra’Jah’s room. Scarlet had hoped she’d be out by now. Walking through to the living room to dump her shoes, coat and bag, she paused when she saw something on the messy, cluttered coffee table that she was sure hadn’t been there before.

It was a tiny, clear, plastic ziploc bag filled full of a white powder. Scarlet frowned as she picked it up, transferring the bag between her fingers and watching as the powder inside crumbled and broke up, the same sort of consistency as flour although slightly looser and whiter. The realisation of what she was holding suddenly hit her like a bus, nearly making her drop the bag. She stood silent for a couple of minutes, completely unsure of what to do. Then she heard the music in Ra’Jah’s room get turned up and that seemed to make her decision for her.

Storming back through into the hallway, Scarlet banged on her flatmate’s door. “Ra’Jah!”

The music got cut off and there was an eerie buzz of silence in the flat. The door in front of Scarlet swung open to reveal her flatmate, her face unimpressed. “Yes?”

Scarlet held up the bag, hoping it would elicit some emotion out of the other girl. It did not. “Can you not leave that shit lying around our flat?”

Ra’Jah smiled in amusement, showing a set of slightly uneven teeth. Scarlet felt her top lip curl up in a sneer. Ra'Jah wasn’t able to pull them off, not like Yvie with the cute gap she had between her front teeth. Fuck, was she really thinking of Yvie right now? Ra’Jah leant on the doorframe cockily. “What, a girl ain’t never seen cocaine before?”

“Of course I’ve seen it,” Scarlet lied, gripping the bag tight between her fingers. “I just don’t want the flat looking like a fucking crack den. I mean it’s not a potted plant, Ra’Jah, it’s a fucking class A drug. It’s not decorative.”

“Class A, ooh,” Ra’Jah mimicked mockingly, irritation washing over Scarlet. “Don’t shit yourself, bitch, it’s fine. I only put it down for, like, two seconds anyway. Just give it and I’ll put it somewhere safe.”

Scarlet went to pass it back to her, but something held her back. She looked at the powder again and a flash of thoughts flew through her head, of skinny, glamorous models and nightclub toilets and champagne. It was an illegal drug, and everything Scarlet had been brought up to believe told her it was fucking disgusting, and dangerous, and led to a spiral of addiction and debt. But still part of her was so insatiably curious, like she was addicted without even having tried it yet. She watched Ra’Jah’s expression change as Scarlet curled her fingers back. “Where’d you get it?”

“What is this, twenty fuckin’ questions?” her flatmate snapped back, rolling her eyes. “Just give me my narcotics, bitch.”

“Can I, um. I’ll buy it off you?” Scarlet stumbled out, causing Ra’Jah to look at her in disbelief.

“You want to buy cocaine?” she raised an eyebrow at her, speaking through a slight laugh. Scarlet’s hackles were up.

“Or give me the number of your dealer.”

Ra’Jah let out a small snort, shrugging her shoulders. “Ain’t any need to involve anyone else. Alright, that’s a gram. Give me sixty and it’s a deal.”

Scarlet felt her eyes widen involuntarily, Ra’Jah chuckling in response. “Girl, what did you think it was gonna be? Naomi Campbell snorts this shit for a reason, people use rolled up hundred dollar bills to snort this shit for a reason. It ain’t fuckin’ Cabbage Patch kids weed we talkin’ ‘bout here.”

Scarlet frowned and took out her phone, opening up her banking app. Just before she transferred the money, she looked at her flatmate suspiciously. Ra’Jah rolled her eyes.

“Look, I’m not taking you for a ride. I got it for fifty, a bitch wants to make a profit. Sixty is standard in some places. Others you’d be talkin’ seventy. Google it if you don’t believe me.”

“No, I believe you,” Scarlet simply said, hitting a button and just like that, sixty pounds flew out of her account. A nervous heartbeat felt entirely too fast and too loud in her body. Another hundred pounds gone.

“Thanks, bitch. This was great fun, maybe I’ll drop out and become a dealer,” Ra’Jah laughed, Scarlet saying nothing in reply as the door swung shut in her face. The bag seemed to make her right hand tingle, and a surge of nervous excitement shot through Scarlet like propane.

She got ready for the night ahead in a sort of daze, as the panic and the gravity of what she’d actually done began to sink in. She’d just bought a gram of cocaine for a night out. What the hell was she planning on doing with it? There was no way she’d be able to actually do any. Or was there? That was what Scarlet had always said about weed and now her and Yvie got high together all the time. Her pulse thrummed at her wrists when she thought about the other girl. Scarlet imagined bringing the small bag out in a toilet cubicle with her, watching her eyes grow wide, imagined her thinking holy shit, I never knew Scarlet was this type of girl at all. Imagined them both cutting it up with Scarlet’s bank card and snorting it, then hitting their high on the dancefloor, turning to her and letting Yvie lean in and kiss her in a haze of euphoria and lust.

Scarlet felt a throb of heat pulse between her legs, her doubts gone. This was a good decision.

Scarlet showed up to Vanessa’s flat only running a tiny bit late, ready with a bottle of vodka the size of her head and a couple of mixers in case any of the girls wanted to share. She got buzzed in quickly and was welcomed into the flat by Akeria who was looking a far cry from her usually-glamorous self, her hair piled on top of her head in a towel and a pair of pink flannel pyjamas on. Scarlet was shown through to their kitchen where she found Vanessa, Brooke and Yvie all sitting on the sofa or on chairs beside Silky who was also in her pyjamas and, just as she’d promised on the chat, was watching The Chase. The girls gave a small cry of delight as Scarlet walked in, Scarlet not missing the way Vanessa was sat on Brooke Lynn’s lap. Part of her prickled with jealousy, wishing that her and Yvie were in their place, but she didn’t mind too much. She was happy for Vanessa. Scarlet grabbed a glass, took a chair to sit in, and began pouring a drink as the girls continued to watch the TV.

“Low offer of minus four thousand pounds, high offer, please?”

“Fifty-one thousand pounds.”

“We’re watching The Chase,” Vanessa explained to Scarlet.

“I gathered.”

“If he takes the minus offer, I’m gonna reach through the TV and stab him,” Brooke said seriously, her face displeased.

“Nah, he’s gonna stick in the middle. I trust Nigel, 52, from Stockport,” Yvie drawled, taking a sip of her drink then smiling at Scarlet from her position on the chair beside her, reaching across and squeezing her hand. “Hey, girl, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks,” she smiled shyly, giving Yvie’s hand a small squeeze back and admiring her crushed-velvet red dress. “You look good.”

Yvie momentarily looked as if she was about to say something cute in response when her eyes were suddenly ripped from Scarlet’s and back to the screen as the girls groaned loudly.

“He’s a fucking TRAITOR,” Silky yelled, launching a cushion at the TV. “Sheila brought back forty-five thousand for this asshole to take from it? NO MA’AM!”

“Well this is the most lit pres I’ve ever been to,” Scarlet deadpanned.

“I hate this motherfuckin’ game show. Silk, turn this shit off,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, her flatmate loudly complaining.

“It’s my fuckin’ flat too, hoe!”

“Yeah, some of us actually have to do work tomorrow,” Akeria piped up from her position at the oven, checking on whatever she’d put inside. “How come you’re out tonight anyway?”

Scarlet caught Vanessa’s eye and she just stopped herself from smiling. “Oh, you know. Sometimes you just fancy going out.”

“It’s called being spontaneous, Kiki. You should try it,” Brooke joined in as she brought both hands up around Vanessa’s waist, the other girl giving a happy sigh and Scarlet staring at them, jealousy burning under her skin. As the other girls bickered, Yvie turned to face her again.

“Hey. You alright?” she asked, concern etched on her face and making Scarlet’s heart swell up.

“No, yeah, I’m good!” she smiled, blinking and trying not to come out with the truth of I’m insanely jealous of how close and cuddly Brooke and Vanessa are being right now and I wish Silky would get up off the sofa so we can join them. Satisfied with her answer, Yvie smiled.

“That’s good. No sad allowed at pres,” she joked, then tapped her gently on the nose. “Also you’re not allowed to be upset, you’re, like, my favourite person. Don’t tell the others.”

Scarlet felt something akin to a tidal wave flood over her whole body. Boosted, she gave Yvie a small wink. “I won’t. I promise.”

Something behind Yvie’s eyes seemed taken-aback, but not in a negative way. Almost as if she hadn’t expected Scarlet to come back with something so flirty so quickly, and Scarlet had to hide her smile behind her hand when she saw Yvie’s cheeks turn slightly pink.

Two hours later, all of Scarlet’s vodka had been drank and the four girls had managed to navigate a drunk Uber ride and entry into one of the fanciest clubs in the city. Usually none of them would have been able to afford the entry fee, but Scarlet had paid the ten pounds for each of them without batting an eyelid. She probably should have cared, but Scarlet had hit that stage where the alcohol had her convinced that life was wonderful, she was invincible, and she would be young and rich forever. She laughed as she cast her eye around the small circle the girls had formed on the dancefloor. Vanessa was dancing, frankly, like a stripper, and Brooke seemed to be living for it, her hands on the other girl’s waist protectively. Yvie was bouncing and flailing about, completely intoxicated, and yelling along to whatever song was playing- Scarlet didn’t know it, but she didn’t really need to. Turning to Yvie, she grabbed her hands and laughed. Yvie looked at her curiously.

“You look like those things…those car lot things…they go like this in the wind,” Scarlet explained, suddenly demonstrating to Yvie and throwing her hands in the air. Yvie buckled over with laughter, her hands on her knees, and Scarlet was so pleased she’d made her laugh.

“Bitch you started doing the floss to Miami 2 Ibiza, shut the fuck up,” Yvie snorted, Scarlet howling beside her. Casting her eye again to Brooke and Vanjie, an idea planted itself in Scarlet’s head.

“Yvie, watch me dance like Vanessa,” she commanded, suddenly feeling emboldened enough to throw her arms around Yvie’s neck and push her body up against hers. She ran her hands through the other girl’s hair messily, Yvie’s eyes half-lidded as she laughed gently at her.

“Girl…messing up my hair,” she muttered, Scarlet smiling back brazenly.

“It was messed up when you did it,” she smiled cheekily, tapping Yvie on the nose like she’d done to her earlier. Without giving her a chance to respond, Scarlet dropped down onto the floor in a move she hoped would make her look irresistible. Instead, she toppled over and ended up flat on her back against the sticky floor, the crowd parting around her like the Red Sea. She looked up to see Yvie laughing hysterically, holding both her hands out to her. Scarlet took them gratefully and she was pulled up, beside Yvie again only this time with just a fraction of the confidence. Yvie must have seen her pouting as Scarlet felt her strong arms being wrapped around her in a hug.

“Aw baby, I like your dancing the way it is,” she slurred into her ear, a tingle shooting down Scarlet’s spine at the proximity of Yvie’s lips to her skin. Scarlet was about to do something, say something, when she suddenly felt herself being wrenched away from Yvie and dancing beside Vanessa, who was gripping her arm. Scarlet was confused until Vanessa leaned in close to her and yelled above the music.

“I got an idea,” she said, her voice thick with alcohol. “Gonna make them both jealous.”

Scarlet’s eyes widened, an electric shock running through her veins as Vanessa pulled her close, then tilted her head up and kissed her. There was little to no hesitation and Scarlet felt herself kissing back, feeling the eyes of the other girls on them both. Vanessa kissed as if she’d known Scarlet’s lips her whole life, hot and passionate, and it briefly ran through Scarlet’s mind that Vanessa probably had a certain Canadian blonde on her mind as she was doing it. She desperately wanted to open her eyes, to look over to Yvie to see if she even cared. Show over, Vanessa pulled away, beaming and laughing, and Scarlet felt herself laugh back. In her drunk state, the situation was funny- the pair of them getting with each other to try to make their two other friends jealous. It appeared to have worked, certainly in Scarlet’s case, as Yvie took her hand and pulled her back, an odd sort of smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She shouted over the music at Scarlet, something that she couldn’t quite hear.

“What?”

Yvie raised her voice a little more. “I didn’t know you liked Vanessa like that!”

Scarlet laughed. “I don’t!”

Yvie gave her a funny look, a multitude of questions no doubt running around her head. Scarlet felt her confidence peak and she leaned in close to Yvie’s ear, Yvie’s arms snaking round her waist instinctively. “You jealous, girl?”

She felt Yvie’s body shake in a laugh Scarlet could tell was affected. “No…bitch.”

Scarlet leant her head on her shoulder and spoke against her neck. “Hey, 'f you’re lucky it might be you next time.”

She pressed a tiny kiss against Yvie’s skin and pulled away laughing, Yvie looking momentarily shaken then joining in with Scarlet’s laughter. Scarlet ran her tongue over her teeth. Fucking yes. Suddenly, she remembered the tiny bag she had in her bra. She caught the attention of the other girls and shouted over the music again. “Guys. Come pee with me.”

She began to make her way through the crowd to the toilets, hearing Vanessa and Yvie laugh at Brooke singing a parody of Come Fly With Me but replacing the word “fly” with “pee”. They eventually all managed to cram into a cubicle together, Scarlet counting her blessings that there was no toilet attendant on duty who would almost definitely have bundled them all out. The girls looked shocked as Scarlet turned around from locking the door and produced the bag from her bra.

“Is anyone down?” she asked lightly, Brooke letting out a nervous laugh beside her. Vanessa flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“What the fuck is that,” Yvie asked, her face set in a hesitant, concerned smile. Scarlet shrugged.

“It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Vanessa spoke first with a blase shrug. “Yeah, bitch, let’s do it.”

Scarlet smiled happily, part of her quite surprised at how readily Vanessa agreed to the whole thing. Her eyes darted to Yvie, who was still looking at the bag cautiously. Obviously noticing her eyes on her, Yvie gave her a look that Scarlet couldn’t quite decipher, then screwed her face up. “So this is a thing we all do now?”

Vanessa narrowed her eyes at her. “Aw Jesus, Yvie, it’s one key in a club on a night out, we’re not all about to turn into fuckin’ junkies.”

Scarlet’s confidence had been given a knock. She hesitantly caught Yvie’s eye. “I mean, you don’t have to, I just thought-”

“No, girl, I’ll do some. ’M not a fucking pussy,” she frowned, taking a breath that seemed to be shaky and turning to Brooke, who was still looking with wide eyes at Scarlet. “Brooke, you doing this?”

It occurred to Scarlet that this was the first time she’d ever seen Brooke look anything other than completely sure of herself. She was laughing awkwardly, almost nervously. Scarlet watched as Vanessa put a gentle hand on her arm. “You don’t have to, baby.”

“No, well, y'know me. Try anything once,” she slurred, leaning into Vanessa’s touch. “Okay, fuck, let’s do this shit.”

Scarlet moved to empty the bag out onto the toilet cistern, but Vanessa put out a hand to stop her. “Woah, girl, the fuck you doin’? Just take a key, ain’t no need for all that fuckin’ credit card shit.”

Scarlet frowned at her, confused in her drunken state. “Keys?”

Vanessa seemed to shrink back into herself as she saw all three girls looking at her intently, wondering how she knew so much about the process. Wordlessly, she gestured for the baggie and produced her keys from her gold clutch bag. She calmly opened the small plastic bag and fished into it with a single key, balancing some of the powder on the length of it. With a short glance up at the girls, she pressed a finger to one nostril and gave a quick, harsh sniff with the other. As quickly as it had appeared, the cocaine was gone. Vanessa rubbed quickly at her nose, sniffing awkwardly.

“Alright, who’s next?” she questioned. Scarlet could feel Yvie’s eyes on her.

“Well since Scarlet brought it, she should go next,” she said, something off to her tone and her stare that Scarlet couldn’t quite pinpoint. Scarlet shrugged stiffly, Vanessa reaching back into the bag with the key and holding some out for her. The butterflies in her stomach almost overwhelming, Scarlet leaned forward and mimicked what Vanessa had done. The first thing that she felt was the all-encompassing smell of petrol, followed by a horrific stinging at the back of her nose and mouth, Scarlet briefly being reminded of jumping into swimming pools when she was little and water shooting up her nose. She gave a cough and a big, follow-up sniff, Vanessa chuckling lightly.

Well, that just happened.

Nervously thrilled, Scarlet felt the butterflies in her stomach dissipate as she watched Vanessa hold a key out to Yvie. Yvie frowned and shook her head.

“Nah. Changed my mind. I’m out,” she said darkly, shooting Scarlet a glare that made her feel like a reprimanded child.

“Come on, Yvie, it’s fine,” Scarlet offered, the other girl scrunching up her face.

“No. It’s not happening. You guys have fun.”

Scarlet felt dejected. She wished she knew what she’d done wrong. Trying to push her feelings aside, Scarlet watched as Vanessa turned the key to Brooke. Brooke was looking from the key to the lock of the toilet stall, nervous. Vanessa reached up and touched a lock of her hair.

“You don’t have to, Brooky.”

“No, I will, I will. I’m just nervous. And excited,” she stammered out, Scarlet thinking she couldn’t have judged the girls’ reaction to this entire situation less accurately if she’d tried.

“You can rub it on your gums if you don’t wanna snort it,” Vanessa explained, part of Scarlet wishing she’d told her that before her turn. Brooke tilted her head, considering, then wet her finger, reached into the bag and took some. Then she put her finger back in her mouth and maneuvered it around, her eyes on Vanessa.

“You tryna flirt, boo?” the other girl questioned, her eyes half-lidded as she locked eyes with her.

Brooke let out a laugh. “Bitch I’m trying to take fucking drugs!”

Vanessa, Brooke and Scarlet burst out laughing, Yvie shushing them.

“Right, let’s go, junkies,” she said irritably. Scarlet frowned, sad that she seemed to have upset Yvie in some way. An idea came to her as they left the cubicle and wandered past the judgemental line of waiting girls.

“I’m gonna get us a bottle of champagne,” Scarlet decided, sure for a second that she saw Yvie roll her eyes, but she wasn’t too sure.

“Vanjie, does it look obvious we’ve been doing drugs?” Scarlet heard Brooke yell over the music, Vanessa laughing gently.

“Everyone here is on drugs, baby. Just chill. It’ll kick in in a minute,” she winked, taking both of Brooke’s hands and jumping a little on the dancefloor.

Scarlet watched as Brooke’s eyes darted to a security camera on the ceiling. “Guys. They can see us. They know.”

“Brooke, relax, nobody gives a shit,” Yvie rolled her eyes. Brooke turned to Scarlet, panic filling her eyes.

“Scarlet, what was in that? Is it all okay, yeah? It’s not got anything through it?”

“Oh, good. Well done, bitch, are you seeing this?” Yvie glared at Scarlet before she had a chance to reply to Brooke. “Brooke! It’s fine! You’re okay!”

The music seemed as if it had been turned up louder. Scarlet scrunched her eyes closed. “Brooke, it’s fine, okay? I’m going to the bar, who wants something?”

“Ugh, of course you are,” she thought she heard Yvie mutter. Suddenly irritated, Scarlet whipped around to face her.

“And what is that meant to mean, huh?” she snapped, Yvie’s eyes widening a little at being challenged.

“You, bitch! What the fuck is up with you these days?”

“Nothing’s up with me? What is this?!” Scarlet cried, a couple of heads turning their way then slowly turning back. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as if she’d just drank fifty Red Bulls back to back, although she was unable to tell if this was the effect of the drugs or just how annoyed she was.

“Something’s off with you. Fucking…cocaine, champagne, this constant…buying everything for everyone like we’re all charity cases, behaving like you’re a fucking extra off Gossip Girl? This isn’t you, Scarlet!” Yvie yelled back, suddenly grasping her by the wrists and giving her a shake. “The normal Scarlet would have shit herself at the thought of doing a key, the normal Scarlet would want to go to Levels and pay a pound for entry instead of going here to dance around with a bunch of fucking Love Island rejects!”

Yvie’s words stung harshly at Scarlet’s heart. She knew the other girl could sometimes grow argumentative when she was drunk, but Scarlet had never had it directed at her. It wasn’t nice. Scarlet felt her tone switch a little as she spoke. “Yvie, you’re being kind of a dick.”

Yvie gave a laugh of disbelief. “Well breaking fucking news, Scarlet! So are you! I mean do you have any idea how shitty it is to see your best friend grow into a total asshole over the space of two weeks?”

“Guys,” Vanessa suddenly interrupted out of nowhere, and Scarlet had no idea how long they’d been fighting or at what volume. “Me and Brooke are gonna go. She’s not doing well.”

Yvie looked at Vanessa, panicked. She cast Scarlet one last withering look before dashing through the crowd, presumably to pick up their jackets. Scarlet felt a bubble of upset prick at her throat. She turned to Vanessa instead. “What’s happened?”

“She thinks she’s having a heart attack. I mean, she’s not, it’s just the drugs, but I’m still worried about her,” she frowned, biting her lip. Vanessa jerked a thumb back to where Yvie had slinked off. “The fuck was that all about?”

Scarlet shook her head silently, not trusting herself to speak unless she began to cry. She didn’t understand how she’d managed to fuck everything up so badly. Vanessa saw her upset and pulled her in for a quick hug.

“Baby. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

The four of them got their coats and joined the taxi queue in a blur. Yvie wouldn’t even look her way, and Scarlet didn’t trust herself to try to speak to her in case she managed to make things even worse. She seemed more concerned about Brooke anyway, who was chattering away, her teeth clicking together in the cold night air.

“Is the taxi driver going to know? Will he just drive us to the police station and hand us in? Do you think he’ll phone the police? What if the police were to just come here right now and say they’re giving random drug tests to everyone in the line? What if-”

“Oh my God, what if you shut the fuck up?” Yvie snapped, Brooke looking taken-aback. Vanessa wrapped her arms around Brooke’s waist protectively.

“Brooky. It’s alright. The police aren’t coming, the taxi driver isn’t gonna turn us in. We’re going back to your flat and we’ll get you into bed safe. You’ve got us, nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

Brooke let out a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a sob. She buried her face in Vanessa’s hair. “I love you, V’nessa.”

Scarlet saw something shut down behind Vanessa’s eyes as she squeezed Brooke tightly. “I love you too, baby.”

Scarlet couldn’t stop herself from casting her eyes across to Yvie, selfishly longing. If she hadn’t fucked everything up, maybe something could have happened. Now, though, it looked as if she’d have to piece their friendship back together, never mind anything more.

The line moved up, and they found themselves at the front. Brooke and Vanessa spilled in, then Yvie. Scarlet went to join them when she found the door getting pulled across in her face. Yvie scowled at her. “No. You’re not getting in with us. I don’t even want to speak to you right now.”

Scarlet could hear Vanessa protesting. “Yvie, for fuck’s sake-”

“You’re not coming with us, bitch. Make your own damn way home,” she reiterated, slamming the door shut.

As the taxi sped away, Scarlet couldn’t fix the slack-jawed look of complete hurt she could feel on her face. As the reality of what had just happened sank in, she felt her face crumple like a paper bag as she began to cry, stood on her own at the taxi rank in the small hours of the morning, and all she could do was wait.

#rpdr fanfiction #tw drug and alcohol use

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allthephils · 5 years

Text

From the Passenger Seat

This work was written for the @phandomreversebang and was inspired by this wonderful art by @dnovep.

Word count: 4002 Rated T (Mild references to sex and homophobia, mental health, established relationship)

Read on AO3

“Phil.”

His name lingers in a fog of sleep before dropping to the bed. The mattress dips with the weight of it. There’s one quick, deep breath before he presses his face further into the pillow and sinks back into a disjointed dream.

“Phil!”

It’s loud enough to break through now, dragging consciousness with it. Phil resists with a grunt, turning away from the sound but a hand comes to grip his shoulder, shaking him abruptly before pulling away. He hears a heavy put upon sigh and finally allows his eyes to open, slowly letting in bright morning sunlight. “What time is it?”

“Finally.” Dan is stood now. Phil twists to see him zipping up a bag and stepping into his shoes. “I’m leaving, just thought you should know.”

“Leaving? What time is it?” Phil can’t make sense of anything. The way the sun streams in says it’s early, so much earlier than he ever gets up. He’s not looking at Dan because his eyes have settled on the duffle bag sitting on the bed near his feet. He searches for a memory he must have lost. Was there a plan? Is Dan going away today?

“It’s like 6:30,” Dan says, like that’s a perfectly reasonable time to be waking Phil up. He’s bothered, annoyed. Judging by his tone, it must be quite a burden to drag Phil from a dream this way. “Go back to sleep. I just thought I should tell you before I left.”

Dan grabs his jacket off the back of the desk chair while Phil watches, confused and only half awake. Something squeezes around his heart like a fist, clenching tighter every second as awareness creeps in. The night before had been rough. Dan spent most if it sulking, complaining about every little thing, while Phil mostly stayed quiet and tried to leave room for Dan to vent. His offers of affection were ignored, his empathy met with derision. Dan had snapped at Phil, refused to talk to him. He’d rolled his eyes at Phil’s insistence that they not go to bed angry. I’m not going to bed, he’d said you are. So not my problem I guess. Phil was genuinely hurt but there was no getting through so he did go to bed, falling asleep alone to a soundtrack of the too loud television coming from the lounge.

“Wait, Dan. You’re leaving?” Phil says, voice shaky and cracking, his body reacting before his mind is fully aware of the fear he’s facing.

“Yeah, I’ll…” He turns as he speaks but stops short when he sees the alarm on Phil’s face. “Phil?”

Dan looks so tired, his eyes are pink and heavy, ringed in blue grey, his mouth pulled down at the corners. All the while, his body darts and weaves around the room.

“Phil. What?” He’s so terse, Phil is almost afraid to answer.

“You’re leaving? What does that mean exactly?” Any attempt to appear detached is lost to the panic rising in Phil’s throat.

Dan just stares at him for a few moments and then, “Jesus Phil, I’m not leaving you. I’m just leaving.” There’s that eye roll again. It’s so dismissive and it stings, it really does. Phil wonders if it felt like this for his mum when he would roll his eyes as a teenager. Dan’s not a teenager though.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.”

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.” Again with the irritation, like Phil has no reason to worry, no right to know what to expect.

“Are you ok?” Phil asks, earnest, and sits up, reaching for his glasses.

“I don’t know.” An honest answer, matter of fact.

Phil throws the covers off himself and stands, reaching under the bed to pull out his suitcase. He pulls shirts from the closet leaving a mess of hangers on the floor. Three drawers slam one by one as he grabs what he needs from the chest. He doesn’t actually know what he needs because he doesn’t know where they’re going or how long they’ll be gone but he grabs a change of jeans and some pajamas, a handful of underwear and a pile of single mismatched socks and shoves in all into his case.

“Get the chargers and my pillow, I’ll be fast.”

Dan is still stood in the middle of the room watching Phil. “Fast at what?”

Phil has already turned on the shower and he climbs in in lieu of answering. He keeps his hair dry and washes as quickly as he can, then steps out to dry off and brush his teeth. He grabs hair product and his toothbrush and opens the door to find Dan in the same spot.

“Fast at what?”

“Showering. Did you sleep at all?” His chargers are right where he left them. He throws on jeans and a t-shirt and grabs a tour hoodie off the floor. The last bits packed, he zips up, grabs his pillow, and walks toward the door.

“Dan?”

Dan hasn’t moved.

“Dan?!”

He startles.

“Are we going?” Phil is losing patience but he’s trying, he’s trying so hard. This isn’t the first time Dan has run off in search of a conclusion to the story in his head. It hasn’t happened in a while and this scenario is definitely new. Waking Phil up for a goodbye, however ill tempered, is an improvement.

“You’re coming with me?”

Phil just huffs and walks past Dan to grab his bag too.

“Come on.”

They get an Uber to the rental car lot because Dan is too embarrassed to let Phil ride the tube holding his pillow. They don’t talk once they’re seated in the back seat. Phil politely deflects any conversation from the driver.

The morning is dreary and grey, a little too on the nose for Phil. He thinks a little glaring sun might do a world of good right now. Maybe it would boost Dan’s serotonin levels just enough or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe, to Dan, sunny skies would be an affront today, an assault on the senses. Maybe sunny skies would bring out the friendly in this driver and bring crowds to this rental lot. Maybe dreary and grey is a safety net.

Phil’s a safety net too though and he could really use a little sunshine right now. It’s not about him, he knows that but he can’t pretend this doesn’t scare him, doesn’t bring back all sorts of memories of hard times, bad days, and worse nights. If Dan can choose to be off meds, to let these days come sometimes, then Phil can choose to cling to him for dear life. We all have our coping mechanisms.

Phil loads a cooler into the backseat of the rental car before climbing in and setting two coffees into the cup holders in the center console.

“Where did you get a cooler?” Dan sounds angry but that’s just how he sounds on days like today.

Phil answers him with forced neutrality. “Tesco.”

“And Starbucks? You did all that while I was at the counter?” The look dan gives him could best be described as suspicious but there’s a hint of gratitude way in the back of his words. Phil holds onto it and shrugs.

“You won’t tell me where we’re going or how long we’ll be gone,” Phil says, “so I got snacks. You’re welcome.”

It takes a real effort not to mirror Dan’s mood. It’s not fair to be angry so Phil breathes deep and watches the scenery go by, bland as it is. He sips his coffee and reaches behind him to pull a box of doughnuts from the cooler. Vaguely political chatter drones from the speakers. It might be interesting if it weren’t so early. Dan waves away the offer of a doughnut but reaches over a few minutes later to take one from the box.

The landscape is dull as the sky. It all runs together, rushing past Phil’s window, beige and grey and muted green. Dan’s hands make the steering wheel look like one of those toys you’d give a baby in their car seat. He fidgets, gripping in pulses and twists. The muscles of his face twitch and spasm as he clenches his jaw and Phil reaches out to touch the hard edge of it.

“Babe,” Phil sounds small, “can you relax your jaw?” He clears his throat, “it’s gonna be sore.”

Dan inhales through his nose and lets his jaw soften. It’s a small thing but it feels like a victory and Phil’s shoulders relax the tiniest bit. He tries to remember everything he’s learned, things the internet taught him in the middle of nights made sleepless by worry, and things Dan taught him, vulnerable and open in Phil’s arms on one of his better days. There’s an inner dialogue unfolding that he’ll have to repeat on a loop until Dan is on the other side of whatever this is. All he can do is be here, strong and open-hearted, a witness to Dan’s strength, reflecting it back until he can see it for himself.

A sign rushes by, the off ramp for Wokingham is ahead. It distracts Phil from his thoughts.

“Oh Wokingham,” He says, “is that where we’re going?”

The laugh that follows is scathing. “Wokingham? Phil, are you actually joking?” Dan shoots him a look that matches his tone, “Fuck Wokingham.”

Phil’s eyelids are heavy, his head wobbles on his neck, and it’s clear Dan isn’t interested in chatting. Reclining the seat, he hugs his pillow and feels himself drift. He’s not falling asleep, he’s just getting comfortable, resting his eyes.

A cold rush of air sends a shiver over Phil and he reaches for a duvet that isn’t there. “Dan. It’s cold! Roll up your window.” He curls in tighter but his eyes flutter open to see Dan reach out and crank the heat up. The droning voice Phil had drifted off to has been replaced by something deep and loud, an angry voice half sings, half raps, and Dan sings along, hand drumming the beat into the steering wheel.

“Pull over, I need a wee.” Phil sits upright and throws his pillow into the back. “How long was I asleep?”

“An hour? Hour and a half? Wasn’t really paying attention.”

The nearest exit takes them to a petrol station and Phil runs inside, grateful for an actual toilet. He’s never been great at having a wee on the side of the road with his nervous bladder. When he comes back, Dan is leaning against the car, a picnic of road snacks laid out on the boot. Phil pauses just outside the shop, taking a moment to look. From here, Dan is only beautiful. He looks cool and strong, no sign of his crumbling resolve, no chemical imbalance, no dark circles, no trauma.

“Glad you’re eating.”

Dan holds out the pastry in his hand for Phil to take a bite. It’s a thing they’ve done a thousand times and Phil basks in the normal of it.

“When I get diabetes, you’re going to have to give me the shots.” A joke in poor taste, another small hint of normal for Phil to hold on to.

Phil gathers up wrappers and bottles and takes it all to the garbage. By the time he’s back, Dan is back in the driver’s seat.

“It’s bloody cold.” He says, starting the car and cranking up the heat. Phil breathes into his hands and looks to Dan, carefully choosing his next words.

“Feeling a little better?”

The twitch in the muscle of Dan’s jaw says he chose wrong.

“Better than what?” Dan says with a laugh that’s not at all funny.

The music is up and they are on the road again, making their way over the bridge to Wales. They don’t talk. Phil usually knows what to say, what not to say, how to just be there. He knows the heavy, shut down numbness of Dan’s depressive episodes and the weepy desperation that sometimes comes when the clouds are about to part. Maybe this is what it’s like when Dan runs off. Maybe the mood swings and the worry in Dan’s brow are par for the course. He hates that he doesn’t know. Running away like this has always been something Dan did without warning. Phil has never been privy to this piece of Dan’s puzzle but he can see that Dan’s mind is racing. He thinks he knows how that feels but he can’t be sure. He wants to know what to say. He wants to make stupid jokes and eat pizza and go home and cuddle. He wishes that he could be enough.

Outside, the blue sky has cracked through the murky grey clouds. The sea is calm, rushing past on both sides and soon they’re driving right along the coast. It brings to mind family holidays and morning walks with his mum but beneath the comfort, there’s an undercurrent of fear. Any moment, those dark waters could rise up, crash over them, envelop this little town they’re in. He conjures an image of he and Dan on the Isle of Man, watching the sunset, kissing on a high cliff where no one could see. Staring into the water, he clings to a heavy handed metaphor. He and Dan run deeper than most could imagine, so constant in their ebb and flow, so strong in their quietest moments. He’s lost in those thoughts when he feels the car pull off the road and realizes they’ve arrived. Somewhere.

Before he can ask, Dan is out of the car and walking toward the water. Grabbing a blanket from the backseat, Phil finds a grassy spot without too many rocks. There’s a lighthouse in the distance and the sound of the sea in Phil’s ears as he stands and watches Dan stretch his arms above his head. The blanket isn’t much barrier from the poking grass and pebbly sand but Phil sits anyway. Phil watching Dan, Dan watching the sea, birds screaming overhead. Enough time passes that the light has changed, the clouded sun giving a glow that feels like early morning though they left that part of the day at home. Finally, Dan turns and begins the walk back. He sits but the distance between them is miles wide.

“You ok?”

“No.”

Of course he’s not ok. “I can read on my phone or play a game. We could probably get a signal here, watch something.”

All he gets is a heavy sigh in response.

“I’m sorry.” Phil squeaks out. “Maybe this is your thing. I should have stayed home. I just get scared Dan.” Dan stretches the crick out of his neck and Phil wishes he could shave some of that annoyance away. “I try so hard not to make it about my feelings when you’re like this but things have been pretty good,” Dan’s brows shoot up, he’s picking at the grass next to blanket, “or maybe just familiar, I don’t know. But I’m having flashbacks if I’m honest. Last night was hard, this morning was hard.” Phil continues, “No, not hard, terrifying.”

Dan’s head turns just slightly and the flash of his eyes makes Phil want to reach out and pull him in but he stays put.

“Sorry I was a twat last night.” Dan tucks in his legs and pulls the blanket around his knees. “But I’m ok Phil. I mean I’m not, but I’m figuring it out.”

“Ok but that’s what scares me Dan. The only times you’ve ever scared me is when you’ve said you could handle things.” Phil’s lip is sore where he keeps biting it. “It just makes me think back to right before you started therapy. You kept insisting you were fine and then, well you weren’t. Do you remember what you said to me?”

“No.” He answers, exasperated.

Phil looks right at him and speaks slowly. “You said, ‘It’s getting scary Phil.’ Then there were tears. You weren’t really crying but there were tears. And I held you there. And you said you were scared. You said it a few times.”

“Ok, Yeah. I remember,” Dan says, “I was scared. That was a darker place than I had been before.”

“And now? Are you scared now?”

Dan turns his body toward Phil, finally looking at him. “Not like I was then. I’m not on an edge anymore. I would never do that do you.”

“Will you please come here?” Phil is really trying but he has to touch him. He’s the most important person on the planet and he can’t survive this moment without something, just a touch, he’ll take anything.

Dan lays his head in Phil’s lap and Phil’s fingers are instantly in his hair. It’s a fix and the itch under his skin finally subsides. He’s aware of the utter codependency, the addiction he has when it comes to Dan but he doesn’t care.

“I’m not going to do anything I can’t take back. This is different. I’m different.” He rolls on his side, curling against the cool air. “The thing is though, that means there’s no way out.”

“Jesus Christ Dan. How can you just say that?”

“Hear me out.” Dan has readjusted his position several times already and now he sits up, one leg folded in, on leg sort of wrapped around Phil’s so they are finally, finally close. “If I’m gonna do this, if I’m gonna feel everything, I can’t stagnate, I have to keep moving forward, making my life what I want it to be. You can’t be the only good thing in my life Phil.”

“I’m not. You have so much Dan.”

“Whatever. Some days you are. I want to have a good life with you, not just for you or because of you. Does that make sense?” He’s brushing his fingertips up and down Phil’s neck, searching for some connection and knowing he needs it as much as Phil does brings more comfort than anything could. He nods, it’s a small thing but it’s all he’s got.

They sit like that for some time. Dan watching Phil, Phil watching the sea, birds screaming overhead.

“So what were you doing last night? If you weren’t depressed or whatever, why were you up?”

“I was writing. All night. And drawing and outlining and my brain was about to combust so that’s why the drive.” There’s almost a smile now, the sunshine Phil’s been waiting for.

“Oh. Cool. What did you write?”

“Welp. Phil. I was working on a script, a concept really, for a video. It’s way too long right now, I’m gonna need your help cutting it down.”

“Of course.” Phil is lost but he waits.

“It’s my coming out.” Dan says, his eyes expectant.

“Coming out? Like, of the closet?”

“No Phil, it’s my coming out into southern American society. I’ll need a chaperone, will you escort me to my cotillion?” At least he’s laughing.

“Ok, I’m just surprised.”

“What do you think?”

“I think you should do whatever you need to do to be happy.”

Dan laughs, “Well I don’t know about that lofty aspiration, but I think it will help.” He leans back a bit, gets a good look at Phil’s eyes. “Anyway, that’s not what I’m asking. This is gonna out you too. I can’t exactly not mention the guy that made me commit to one dick for the rest of my life.”

Phil huffs a relieved sort of giggle, “so you aren’t sad, or numb, or any of that?”

“Not today. Just nervous, excited, anxious, terrified, maybe a little sad after writing my story down, but just normal sad.” He lays back down, so tired, like talking about this has used up the last of the adrenaline that was keeping him up. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“We don’t have to talk about this now.” Phil says, back to the important work of stroke Dan’s hair.

“Actually, we do. Kinda the whole point of this little trip. You’re the one that came along and uninvited bub. Can’t escape now.”

“Yeah, I mean, say what you want Dan. I’m already out to everyone that matters.”

Dan looks up at him. “I can think of 4 million people who matter who don’t know.”

“Oh come on, they know. I talk about hot guys all the time.”

“Yes Phil, I know.” Dan says with utter contempt in his voice. “And sure, the lesbians know, but what about all the people who will just assume we’re straight unless we literally leak our sex tape? What about all the people in denial because they’re just so in love with big daddy Philly.”

“Ew. Stop.” Phil crinkles his nose. “I’m not subtle Dan. And I don’t care if they know for sure, they’ll figure it out.”

“Ok babe. You do you. I’m just saying, you could maybe help some people.”

“How did this become a conversation about me?” Phil watches Dan snuggle in and close his eyes. “Let’s just get through your video first. See how it goes. You know mine will be pretty low key. If I decide to make one.”

“Alright.” Dan bats his eyelashes at Phil. It’s not intentional, just a thing that happens when he feels like this. “Thanks for hijacking my road trip. I love you.”

“Wait, what about your family, Dan?”

“Guess that’s step one.” He sounds so sleepy now, the words slur a bit, his breathing slow. “I’ve got till June. Maybe I’ll do it at Easter.”

“The June video.” Phil says.

“Has to be June.” He yawns. He looks so small sometimes. “A year is enough time thinking about it. I’ve got to rip off the plaster.”

Everything is different. Different to last night, different to this morning, different to last year, and so different to a few years ago. It doesn’t mean an absence of fear. Loving Dan means a small corner of his heart will always be hollowed out, lying in wait for the next time he sinks. But he’s reassured, for now.

There’s a little shack of motel up the road, generously referred to as a bed and breakfast on the website. Phil drags Dan awake after a half hour or so and leads him to the car.

“You can’t drive Phil.” Dan mumbles.

“I can and I am. It’s just ten minutes. No complaining.”

The lady at the front desk wears a scrutinizing gaze as she checks them in. Phil repeats yep just one room, more than once.

As they make their way up the stairs with their bags and Phil’s pillow, Dan whispers, “We’ll have to make some noise for her sake, after I get a nap.” Phil giggles looking over his shoulder.

They choose a movie and Dan’s asleep before the title appears. Phil isn’t far behind. Eventually, he gets up and ventures out to bring back a real meal. They eat and talk about all the ideas overflowing in Dan’s mind. Phil makes Dan take a shower and he doesn’t even unzip his bag, just climbs into bed to make that noise they’d talked about. In the end, they’re rather quiet but for breathy sighs and whispered affection. Dan is happy to do this Phil’s way, to let the weight of him hold him steady and let himself be adored. And so Phil does adore him, covering his skin in kisses, keeping their bodies impossibly close. He’ll taste every sweet and bitter piece of Dan and hear the soft sounds that only he’s allowed to hear. Dan will end up draped over Phil, drifting off yet again. Silky brown curls will slip around and past Phil’s fingers again and again and he’ll remember a time when he was the only one who got to see these curls. The years of hiding so many pieces of them are coming to an end but some things, the most important things, will always belong to just the two of them.

#phanfic #prb19 #prb #myfic

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