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theasstour · 3 years

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𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟐.𝟏𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE! ARCHITECT!HARRY! 🏛️❣️✨ It’s been ages since I posted writing on here and it feels good to be back! Believe me when I say that though nothing much happens in this chapter, something will go down in absolutely every chapter, so you’ll hopefully be entertained at one point AOIJFOIREJ! I absolutely adore architect!harry (yearly as much as I adore you lot), I hope you lot will too! Now, let’s start this journey, shall we? 🥰🌟

Friday, 15 September 2017

Monday September 8th 2014. Y/N had spent an abnormal amount of time thinking about that day over the last three years. Sometimes, even if she were in the middle of something else or thinking about a topic completely unrelated, it would just come back to her. Like a flash, as if someone turned on the dim light inside a dark room, she would be taken back to a time, a moment, that would be burned into her brain forever. It would paralyse her for a few seconds, making her unable to do or think or be anything besides that memory. It was almost like, at this point, she thought the ghost of her sister would never quite leave her.

The countless times she had recounted this specific memory, Y/N could never remember exactly what it was that had woken her that late Monday night, or morning rather, in September 2014. One second she was asleep, and then the next, she was awake. She remembered herself looking at the blinds of the window, how they weren’t fully closed that night for some reason, so the orange light from the streetlamp outside shone through the small slits, her room completely silent. This must have been what woke her up from her trance. The blinds were always closed, and the window was always open, letting in fresh air and the noises of Nottingham into her room. It was like her conscious had done it for her, alerted her that something was off and she needed to check her surroundings.

Y/N blinked, realising that the only sound in the room was her eyelids meeting and parting, and the rustling of her bedsheets as she made to sit up in bed. That was when she noticed a flicker of movement in the shadow beside her door. Something unexpected, something unlike what normally was.

“Hello?” Y/N asked, voice hoarse as she sat up completely in bed.

The room was quiet save for the sound of a trainer against Y/N’s carpeted floor. It was faint, and had Y/N’s window been open, she probably would not have heard it. She didn’t remember how she felt in that moment, it was like all emotion was stripped from that memory in order for her to objectively pick it apart over and over and over again. She could therefore not remember how she had felt when she recognised her sister, but she knew she must have been shocked.

“Marcela?” Y/N asked when she recognised the short brown hair of her sister in the shadow on the wall.

A small sigh and Y/N’s older sister stepped forward, letting the dim light of the outside streetlamp wash over her. Y/N had always envied her older sister for right about anything. The colour of her brown eyes, the way her hair looked almost bronze-coloured if the sun hit it just right on late summer afternoons, her wide and pretty smile, charming personality, and slim body were some of the many things that Y/N was jealous of. It just seemed like her sister lived a better, more eventful and meaningful life than Y/N ever would.

Even standing there, wearing a white and lilac floral summer dress, dungaree jacket and white Vans, in the middle of the night or early morning, Y/N thought Marcela had everything together. But whatever happened next to Y/N’s sister, Marcela could never have had it fully together, Y/N realised that now. Nothing that gruesome, that unknowable, could happen to someone who had it all figured out.

“Mari, what’re you doing here?” Y/N asked, reaching for her glasses on the nightstand and pushing them onto her face. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Newport?”

“Yeah,” Marcela answered, smiling at Y/N as if her being in her little sister’s room that late at night, when the world was asleep, was completely normal.

“What’re you doing here?” Y/N asked again.

“I forgot some things. Kit and I are on the way back. He’s waiting in the car.”

In that moment, Y/N did not think to ask Marcela of what exactly her sister had forgotten in Y/N’s room, which was again something she had beaten herself up for since.

“Y/N,” Marcela said, cocking her head to the side and smiling ever so slightly. “You should be asleep.”

Y/N forgot how to speak, just looking at her older sister as her still slow and sleepy brain tried to comprehend what was going on.

“It’s late, you’ve got school tomorrow.” Marcela walked backward towards the door, still directing that same reassuring smile at Y/N on the way there. “You know how grumpy you’re gonna be tomorrow morning if you don’t get your eight hours.”

“When will you be back?”

Marcela smiled. “Next weekend. I told you this.”

Y/N nodded again, feeling like this was all some sort of hallucination. Maybe it was just a dream.

Marcela held up her right hand and showed off the tattoo just below her thumb. One letter, for Y/N. Y/N’s hand immediately fell to the M just below her own right thumb. A M for Marcela. They had gotten it four months earlier for Y/N’s 16th. Y/N still remembered how scared she was, she did not want to be in pain. Marcela had informed her that it would hurt, but it would all be worth it in the end. Her sister had gotten a few tattoos, most of them up and down her arms, but Y/N knew she wanted even more of them. Y/N supposed her love for tattoos had started because of her sister. After her sister died, Y/N had just gone on to get more and more tattoos. She supposed it had been a coping mechanism in the beginning, to somehow feel close to Marcela, yet forget about her and everything for a little while as the smell of fresh ink, the sound of the needle, and the feel of a tingling pain took over all she knew.

“I’ll be back next weekend. Promise. Just let me have this week with Kit, yeah?”

Y/N swore she could hear a slight tremor to her sister’s voice. However, Marcela was not shaking as she took a hold of the door handle, and she did not look the slightest bit scared or like she was crying for help. No, she just looked like the Marcela Y/N had always known. And that was the problem. Nothing had been out of the ordinary. Something had to have been out of the ordinary.

“Y/N?”

She blinked, realising that she had been fixated on the M tattoo by her thumb again. She would sometimes drift off like this, thrown back to that moment in time that haunted her still, three years later.

“Amorzinho?”

Y/N looked up at her father who glanced over his shoulder at her, a slight furrow to his brows as if he knew exactly where she had just been. Davi and Y/N had always understood each other like that, especially after everything with Marcela happened three years ago. They would sometimes just find the other one staring out into thin air, or at something significant to Marcela, and the other would know right away where the other one had gone. Y/N did not know what memory her papai went back to, she never asked and, quite frankly, did not want to know. That whole experience was hard enough as it was, she had enough with her own memories and regrets.

“Y/N, you alright?” Davi asked, reaching for his daughter’s knee and squeezing it lightly. His positioning was a bit awkward from where he sat in the passenger seat and she sat right behind him in the car, but she felt reassured by his tender action nevertheless.

“Alright, pai,” Y/N answered, laying her hand on top of his.

Her father had always been the affectionate type. He would always go around touching the people that meant the most to him, whether it was a light caress to their cheek, a squeeze to their shoulder, a long hug, or a kiss to their cheek. Having grown up with a single mother and an older sister, he had learned from the best, and had not changed, even for his wife who had never been huge on showing affection. Y/N guessed that, in the case of her parents, opposites really did attract.

Where her father was loud, welcoming, and vulnerable, her mother was a bit more reserved, quiet, and tough. However, when Lottie had, at the ripe age of 24, travelled around South America with her mates after finishing her business degree, she had met Davi in Santos in Southern Brazil, the state of São Paulo, and they had fallen in love right away. It took a year for Lottie to leave Santos after that, bringing her then fiancé with her home to meet her family in Nottingham. Since then, the two of them had been together, and had brought Marcela and Y/N into this world.

It would be weird to not spend every single day with her parents. Everything was about to change drastically. The last time abrupt and extreme change had happened was that morning when Y/N’s parents realised Marcela hadn’t made it home from their cabin in Newport, Wales in time. It had been the day she disappeared. When they had gotten the news that she was murdered.

Y/N hoped her papai couldn’t tell that she was shaking.

“It’s not far now,” Lottie said from the driver’s seat. “Just a few minutes.”

Y/N nodded, looking out at the busy streets of North London as they drove on.

“You know what?” Davi said.

“What?”

“I think this is gonna be amazing.”

Y/N smiled at that, squeezing her father’s hand. “Yeah… I think it might be, too.”

“You will meet so many new people and learn so much. It will be the best time of your life.”

“I’ve told you, love. University was the absolute best time of my life.”

Davi looked at his wife.

Lottie clicked her tongue. “Oh, you know what I mean!”

“I do not. You say the best thing to ever happen to you is me, and yet-“

“-Darling, uni was the best time of my life, but meeting you was the best thing to happen to me.”

Davi threw his hands up in the air in exaggerated frustration, muttering something in Portuguese that Y/N did not catch. However, she couldn’t help her slight chuckle, and the grin on her face only widened when she saw her mother smiling, and then her father taking her hand, planting a lingering kiss to her skin before putting it back on the steering wheel. It was nice to witness casual affection between them like this. It was normal for Y/N to see it at this point, they had been like this her entire time growing up, but it was nice to be reminded that her parents loved each other.

“We’ll be on Orsman Road in five minutes tops,” Lottie said, looking back at Y/N as she stopped at a red light. “Nathan’s gonna meet you outside with your flat keys and such, yeah?”

“Yeah, he said he’d pick them up for me at the letting firm before I arrived.”

“Good,” Davi said.

“It’s nice that you get to move into an actual flat your first year of uni so that you get to be with someone you already know,” Lottie said. “As long as the uni’s got your address and knows you’ve got someplace to live, not living in uni accommodation is alright, if I understand correctly.”

“That’s what they said, anyway,” Y/N said.

“You just need a home. You’ll be home with Nathan.”

Y/N nodded, looking out at Hackney as they drove on. “Yeah.”

“He’ll take you to campus after, yes? So you can register and everything?”

Though Y/N had gone over this plan with her parents countless of times these last three hours, as well as the days leading up to departure, it seemed that her mum needed to be reminded one too many times. Taking a deep breath, Y/N said, “Yes.”

“Good. It’s important that you make it there by your time slot at 5. Reckon there’s heaps of students that are going to register at Helmond today.”

“Probs.”

“It’s important to be on time.”

“We will be.”

“Yeah, remember-“

“-Charlotte,” Davi said, putting his hand on his wife’s thigh. “Y/N’s got it under control.”

Lottie chanced a look at Davi as she turned off the main road and onto a smaller one. Y/N recognised this street from the FaceTime calls with Nathan where he had shown her around the street and flat. Though Y/N had been looking forward to this day for what felt like centuries, parts of her were still nervous, and Nathan’s video guides around her new flat and new neighbourhood had calmed her nerves considerably. She felt like she had already been here, but she could not wait to explore the areas of Hoxton and Hackney that she had yet to see.

As they drove down Orsman Road, Y/N could make out a figure in the distance that she felt like she had not seen in ages. A grin was instantly planted on her face and she fidgeted in her seat, wanting to jump out of the car and in Nathan’s direction. Her tall, lanky, slim, red-haired best friend stood by the entrance to what Y/N assumed would be 36 Orsman Road, squinting in the direction of Y/N’s car. At the sight of it, he started jumping up and down, waving enthusiastically as if he was stranded on a deserted island and a plane was flying by over him. Davi laughed, recognising his daughter’s best friend from the countless sleepovers, dinner parties, and drives home drunk from house parties on the other side of town.

Nathan banged on the window as Lottie parked the car by the side of the road, walking as the car was reversed into place, grinning at Y/N the entire time.

“Oh, my life,” Nathan said through the window, hands pressed against it. Y/N pressed her own against his. “I swear, you’ve taken ages. Thought you were gonna stand me up there.”

“Mate,” Y/N said, opening the car and throwing herself into Nathan’s arms. “Couldn’t miss going to uni with you, could I?”

Nathan squealed and hugged Y/N back, though he had to bend at an unnatural angle in order to do so.

“Nate, how are you?” Lottie asked as her and Davi started unloading the boot of the car, putting bags and boxes on the pavement to be carried upstairs.

“Can’t complain, Lottie, I really can’t. Just moved into a flat with me mates, we might go out tonight, and I have the pleasure of seeing your beautiful face today.”

Lottie laughed, squeezing Nathan’s arm before putting one of Y/N’s bags on her shoulder.

“Right, it’s the first and second floor,” Nathan explained, and upon seeing Davi’s confused expression, added, “It’s split-level.”

“Ahh!”

“Right.” Nathan bent down, taking one of the cardboard boxes. “I’ll show the way.”

“Stay behind, will you, darling?” Lottie asked Davi. “Just so we don’t leave anything on the pavement for anyone to nick.”

“Yes, you go ahead,” Davi answered, waving them off.

Nathan opened the front door and let Y/N and Lottie enter first. From the video calls, Y/N knew that once she arrived at the first story landing, the door to the left would be her and Nathan’s flat. Her new home. She was unsure if it would really dawn on her that she was going to be living on her own, without her parents, for the next three years, two of which were spent with Nathan in this flat. Living without her parents seemed liberating, but also terrifying. How was she going to survive without her papai’s cooking? Without the sound of her mother’s sewing machine? Without hearing their laughter as they watched something on the telly in the living room right below her room? How would she just go on living normally without them being close, like they had been all her life?

Nathan used his elbow to open the door and walked on in first this time to hold the door open for Y/N and her mum. Now, with her own two eyes, Y/N took in the place she would be living in over the next year, maybe two. The foyer they entered wasn’t long, but it had no particular furniture in it except for a painting on the wall opposite the stairs. Y/N suspected the landlord had printed out the popular painting and put it in a frame.

To her left was a slim white door – which matched the rest of the walls of the flat – that she knew to be the very spacious wardrobe. She would put her cardboard boxes and bags there once she was done unpacking, at least that was what Nathan had told her over FaceTime because he had done just that himself. To the right was another white door, this one with a window over it, and yet again, she knew this was where the kitchen would be. The door was open as she walked by, so she sneaked a look at it. The European Oak parquet stood in nice, warm contrast to the white cupboards and black countertops that went along the right wall and the wall right opposite to the door. Above the counter to the right, along the white tiled wall, was a long and small window. The view was nothing to brag about, just a greyish brick building and the pub on the other side of the road, The Stag’s Head.

Further along, the door into the living room stood open. As Lottie studied the kitchen, Y/N stood in the doorway to the shared space to just take a good look with her own two eyes. This, along with the bedrooms upstairs, was the only place in the flat with carpeted floor. The grey carpeted floor looked worn, as if it had been stepped on and used for countless of years prior, there were stains some places from what Y/N could only assume to be red wine and coffee. The left wall had four sets of windows; two smaller ones on the side and two bigger ones in the middle, where the smaller ones were the only ones it seemed that the tenants could open. The windows overlooked Regent’s Canal and the dark brown brick buildings on the other side. Not the prettiest view, but then, they were students and there weren’t many places in Haggerston, London that offered something pretty to look at.

Right underneath the windows, there was a radiator, and right beside that, positioned with its back against the wall opposite to the door where Y/N stood, was a blue sofa. In front of it, positioned against the wall facing it, was a table where a small telly was propped. A PlayStation was already plugged in and Y/N hoped it would be possible for her to somehow play Mario Kart on it as any other games did not interest her. Beside the sofa and the wooden coffee table in front of it, stood a red Poäng Ikea armchair with a footrest to match. That one also looked as worn as the rest of the living room. Y/N was sure that if she sat down, the chair would simply give out and turn to dust under her.

“Up we go,” Nathan said, walking straight past Y/N and up the stairs that leaned against the wall opposite to the living room and kitchen.

Before following her best friend, Y/N looked out through the windowed door, leading out to a mini terrace. You could barely fit two people out there, but she reckoned it would be a lush way to start her mornings. A fresh cuppa and the dreary sight of Haggerston.

“Y/N, you coming?!” Nathan called, making Y/N jump.

She looked back at her mum who just flashed a tight-lipped smile her way. Taking that as a good enough sign, Y/N followed Nathan upstairs. The hallway she was then presented with looked exactly like the one downstairs. However, right in front of her were two doors; the one to the left leading to the small toilet room, and the one beside it to the sink and shower. There was a door to her right as she came upstairs, two to her left, and another one right above where the terrace would be downstairs. That was the room Nathan was in now, putting down Y/N’s cardboard box.

“I’ll run downstairs and let Davi up so he can have a look,” Nathan smiled, walking past Y/N and Lottie to run down to the ground floor again.

The only things the room had to offer were a queen-sized bed, which at 204cm, took up all the space from wall to wall, but luckily enough, there was a drawer behind the door where Y/N could at least put all her clothes. This was the smallest room she had ever lived in.

“This is… rather spacious,” Lottie said, walking over to the windows above the bed and opening them both to let some fresh air in.

“Can’t really expect much if I’m gonna live in London, though. And I’m a student.”

“Precisely.” Lottie took her hands on her hips, looking out at the view from Y/N’s window. It was the same one as from the terrace just under them. The weather that day had been just as nice as Y/N had suspected of the South; a little-too-hot early autumn afternoon, partly cloudy, with busy pavements and crowded parks. She knew that the weather would soon match what she was used to from the Midlands. Even though she would now live farther south, she knew lousy weather was just as likely in London as it was in Nottingham. Y/N was suddenly very happy her mother had opened the windows to let in some of the canal wind.

A small sniffle sounded, and Y/N immediately looked to Lottie who still had her face turned away from her daughter.

“Mum?”

“Look at that!” Davi exclaimed, entering the room with a massive grin on his face.

The different reactions her parents had to the flat just reminded Y/N of how different they were.

“I know, pai,” Y/N said, looking around her room. “A wee bit small, but I’ve never needed much, have I?”

“With all those clothes you’ve brought?!” Lottie asked, looking down at the bag where Y/N’s clothes were, still not meeting anyone’s gaze. “You have too much clothes for your own good. When do you even use most of it?”

“Well, I don’t usually bring out the crop tops and see-through shirts for family gatherings, mum. Might be it.”

“Thank God.”

Y/N watched her mum for a few seconds, knowing something was wrong the moment she started fussing over the bare bed in front of her.

“You need a nightstand,” Davi pointed out, walking over to stand by the bed, indicating with his hand where the nightstand would go. “And a desk.”

“Nathan and I talked about popping by an Ikea. Nearest one’s in Greenwich, I think. Or Wembley.”

“Good! Nathan hasn’t brought his car down, has he?” Davi asked.

“No, he left it-“

“-Speaking of Nathan, I’ll go downstairs and let him carry the last box upstairs.” Before either Davi or Y/N could say anything else, Lottie was out the door and down the stairs, walking down to the car again.

Y/N looked at her papai, seeing a slight furrow to his brows as he regarded his wife retreating downstairs.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked in a low voice, listening to the sound of her mother’s footsteps down the stairs.

Davi met Y/N’s eyes, shrugging one shoulder. “Think she’s a little sad.”

Y/N bit the side of her mouth, sighing slowly.

“It’s a weird day. You’re moving away to University, and last time… last time we drove one of our daughters away like this, she didn’t come home.”

For some reason, Y/N had seen something like this happening. Though her mother had a weird way of showing it, she was constantly terrified after what happened to Marcela, and she was especially protective of Y/N. It had been hard for Lottie to let Y/N have any sort of social life that first year after Marcela. She would want to know everything about where Y/N was heading, who would be there, what they were going to do, and when Lottie could come and pick her up. Though this had been alright in the beginning - Y/N had known even then that it must be her mother’s way of coping with everything – it got a bit much as months, and then years went on. Y/N loved her mother, she really did, but she acted as if Y/N could not protect or take care of herself, something she was more than capable of.

“Pai, I won’t die at uni.”

“I know,” Davi said, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “But your mother still has a hard time taking it all in. You won’t be home, and she won’t have you near anymore. It’ll be a lot.”

Y/N nodded, resting her head back against her papai’s arm.

“Cosy moment,” Nathan smiled as he entered the room with the last box, placing it down on the floor beside the other ones.

“Is mum downstairs?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, she’s by the car. Think she’s waiting for you two.”

Y/N and Davi nodded, Davi then taking a last look around his daughter’s room, smiling as he already knew she would make the bleak setting one many would envy. Y/N, after all, had always had a sense for these kinds of things.

“I’ll wait in my room, which is the one by the toilet,” Nathan informed, pointing to the open door behind him. “Just come knock when you’re ready to head for the uni, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll only be a minute.”

“No worries, babes, take all the time you need.”

Y/N smiled, walking past Nathan while Davi gave him a hug, wishing him good luck to come in the approaching first semester of University. It would be Nathan’s second year, so he knew what he was going into compared to her, but she knew Nathan appreciated Davi’s encouraging words regardless.

Y/N walked down towards the ground floor, her papai right behind her as they exited the flat building. Lottie stood by the car, arms crossed and eyes on something further up the street. It was as if she was looking for something, making sure it was safe for her Y/N to live there without her mother’s supervision.

“Mum,” Y/N said, now recognising the worry on her mother’s face. “Mum, it’ll be alright.”

She walked straight for her mother, wrapping her arms around her in a tight embrace. Though it would normally have been the other way around, the parents reassuring their kid they would be fine on their own, Y/N now patted her mother on the back and felt her bury her face into her daughter’s shoulder. Davi walked over as well, placing a hand on Lottie’s arm, squeezing her lightly. Some time went by without any one of them saying anything, just feeling and processing the words left unsaid.

Soon, Davi let out a small sigh, hugging the back of Y/N’s frame and mumbling her name against the top of his daughter’s head.

“We’re going to miss you,” he said, leaving a kiss against her hair.

Too caught up in her mother’s sadness, Y/N did not realise until just then that this was the moment she had been dreading. This one, where she stood by her parents’ car, saying goodbye to them and watching them start on their drive back home to Nottingham without her.

It was a complex state of being. Going away to University, starting a new life for herself, was something Y/N had dreamed of for as long as she could remember. She wanted to experience new things and to study something she was passionate about. But part of her was still pulling her back towards Nottingham, home. It would feel wrong, maybe even like being abandoned, thrust into adult reality, when she watched her parents drive off.

The thought of her living in the biggest city in the country by herself, did not sit right with her in that second. She was suddenly six again, her papai teaching her how to ride a bike. She was eleven, getting her period for the first time and her mother showing her how to use a pad. She was sixteen, having forgotten she had an important maths exam the next day, resulting in her and Davi sitting up for hours until she knew what she was doing. She lived at home, where her parents could protect her, help her, guide her, and provide for her at any given second. They would always be there whenever she needed them, always close and ready to pour every ounce of love onto her.

But now, even though she knew her parents would still love her the same and always be at her service whenever she needed them, now they would live separate lives. She would still be part of their lives and they would be part of hers, but they would not intermingle, get stuck, and weave themselves together like they had done since Y/N’s day of birth and until now. Y/N had not lived a single day in her life where she had not physically been close to her parents in one form or another. She had known it would be hard to watch them leave, she knew she would hate herself for this once she sat in her room all alone that same night or when researching information for an essay in a month’s time. Even though part of her was looking forward to what was to come, another part did not want to be left. She wanted a new life, but she was terrified of letting the old one, the safe one, go.

“Oh, my baby,” Lottie said as she pulled away, taking Y/N’s face in her hands. “My wee Y/N.”

Y/N went back in for another hug just so her mother wouldn’t see how glassy her eyes were. She felt them stinging and knew she would shed a tear soon.

“You will have no problems at uni,” Davi said, squeezing his daughter.

“How do you know that?” Y/N mumbled into her mother’s shoulder, closing her eyes as to make sure no tears escaped. She felt pathetic, but the overwhelming realisation that her parents would leave her in a few minutes had hit her like a brick.

“Because we know you. We know you’ll make friends; we know you’ll excel.” Davi took a step away, placing both hands on her shoulders. “Deep down, you know that, too.”

“As much as I hate the fact that I won’t get to see you every single day or know what you’re doing, I know you’re going to love being at University and you’re going to love London,” Lottie said, rubbing Y/N’s back.

“I don’t want you to leave.” Y/N sounded like a wee child, refusing to let her parents leave her at kindergarten for seven hours.

Davi squeezed Y/N’s shoulders again. “It’ll be alright, querida.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do. You feel like this now because this is a huge change. University is the beginning of adult life, it’s scary, but you’ll love it.”

Y/N chose not to argue with her papai as she knew he was only trying to make her feel better. And also, though she did not want them to leave, she knew that the longer she stayed there with them, the higher the risk was for her to bawl her eyes out into her mum’s shoulders. Slowly, making sure to wipe her eyes discreetly against her mother’s shoulder, Y/N stepped away from her parents, trying to smile at them both. She knew they could tell she was about to cry, but was grateful that neither one of them pointed it out.

“Goodbye, my baby,” Lottie said, stroking Y/N’s cheek. “Please call us tonight or tomorrow, we want to see your room when it’s all finished.”

Y/N nodded. She always kept her mouth shut when she was about to cry, it was as if speaking made all emotion float out of her through her open mouth, and she started crying uncontrollably.

“We’ll see you soon,” Davi smiled. “Remember to have fun, yes? This is going to be so much better than you think.”

She smiled, watching her father sit down in the passenger side and her mother climb into the driver’s side.

“Remember your time slot, Y/N. Remember to get to the uni on time to register-“

“-Lotts,” Davi warned.

“Right, alright,” Lottie sighed, getting the car going. She turned back to Y/N one last time blowing her a kiss. “Love you.”

“Te amo!” Davi shouted, waving and grinning at his daughter.

Y/N was left standing there looking after the car as her parents drove off. She was unable to move for a moment, the only thing she managed to do was stare after the car until it was out of sight. When it was, Y/N felt an instant sort of empty feeling in her stomach. She was on her own. Her parents were on their way back to Nottingham, and she was here. In London. Alone. Momentarily, Y/N’s excitement about uni and everything she would experience these next three years, was all insignificant. The lack of her parents’ presence was like stripping reality of warm colour, replacing them with the dreary and cold.

She felt her eyes begin to sting and let one tear roll down her cheek. Then, wiping the next few off her face, she started making her way up to her new flat. She closed the ground door behind her, and then the front door of the flat when she reached it. Nathan was out on the balcony with a cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other. He did not notice Y/N as she walked up to her room again and she was very happy he did not.

Walking straight for the bathroom, the door right in front of the stairs once you reached the first storey of the split flat, Y/N closed and locked the door afterwards. She turned water on, scooped some coldness into her hands and splashed it over her face. Without hesitating, she did it again, turning the tap off before looking at herself in the mirror above the sink. She wiped the water off her face with the sleeves of her jumper, cursing herself for not having brought a towel in with her.

“You’re a bad bitch,” she hissed at her reflection. “Why’re you crying?”

A small gasp left Y/N’s lips and she turned the tap on again, splashing her face with more cold water. She had no idea if it was helping any, but she had a strange sense that by doing it, she would feel better afterwards. However, looking at herself in the mirror again, she did not feel the least bit better.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked herself in a whisper. “Can you stop crying? There’s literally no need to cry.”

But there was, her brain retorted, and that alone brought more tears to her eyes. Y/N knew that had she been driven down here by her parents to be on holiday for a week or two, she would not have cried. Maybe she would have cried the day before going home because she would rather be in London than Nottingham because she loved it so much, but she would not have cried when her parents drove off. In fact, she was sure she would have loved to see them go and known she was free to do whatever she wanted, when she wanted.

But this was different. She lived in London now. Her mother couldn’t just come whenever Y/N needed her, and her papai couldn’t stop whatever he was doing to help her with whatever she was struggling with. It was a new life. A new beginning. And she had to do it all alone. She was used to being alone by choice, she didn’t like this feeling of alone.

“Y/N?!” Nathan called as he walked up the stairs. “Y/N, you in your room?!”

Taking a deep breath and wiping a little excess water off her cheek, she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped outside just as Nathan stood in the doorway of her room. Nathan took one look at her and said, in a quiet and low tone, “They left?”

Y/N inhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

Nathan walked over to her, bringing her in for a hug. Y/N hugged him back tightly, appreciating the reassurance. She knew she wasn’t alone, she had Nathan after all, but it was still strange to be here without her parents.

All her time throughout school, Y/N had looked forward to moving away to University. Her and Nathan had planned out their lives once they got to uni, in detail, and could spend hours on end just making plans for Freshers Week and the parties they would attend. Having been friends since year three of school, the two of them had made a lot of plans throughout the years. Most of the plans, they had never gone through with, but it was still fun to imagine. Neither could remember what exactly had gotten them to talk to one another that first time, but they had always suspected it was their mutual friend, Ella, who had gotten them talking. Since then, Nathan and Y/N had been inseparable.

They always did the stupidest things together, annoying all their friends and family. They got their license on the same day, would often sleep out in one of their gardens just because they could, always made the other a Build-a-Bear for their birthday, knew each other’s favourite scents, tastes, turn ons and turn offs, and everything in between. It was a friendship that was seen as maybe a little too close, but once you found your soulmate, there were no boundaries anymore. At least that was how Y/N and Nathan saw it. Besides, there was a sense of bond between them that only people identifying as queer could understand. Though neither of them had known at the age of seven when they met that they would grow up to identify as gay and bisexual, they knew now that their bodies, on some level, had known, and therefore drawn them to one another.

When you’re around other people from the LGBT community, there is not only a sense of understanding between you, but also undeniable, immeasurable comfort and support. No matter what. It’s a home, someplace to be completely you, without feeling like you need to tone it down or be ashamed, something the outer world sometimes could make you think you needed to. Y/N was therefore incredibly happy that her, as a bisexual, had found Nathan, who was himself with his whole heart, and who encouraged her to be the same.

“You ready to go to uni?” Nathan asked.

“Yeah, I’ll just change into a tee shirt.”

Nathan let go of her and followed her into her room.

Having always been plus size, Y/N broke a sweat rather easily. She therefore knew that she might freeze a bit in the beginning, but if her and Nathan were supposed to walk up and down stairs at tube stations and walk indoors at Helmond, she would need to wear a tee shirt to cool herself down some.

She took her jumper off, lobbing it on the still empty bed before she opened her bag filled with tops. She dragged a tee shirt out at random, taking a look at the black tee shirt with a white half moon embroidered onto the chest. Dragging it over her head, she walked to the full-body mirror that her mother had insisted on her bringing. She said there were rarely mirrors in student houses, and she was right. Looking at herself, Y/N ran a hand over her black denim shorts, studying how her faux leather sock boots went with the rest of her outfit. The chunky soles were amazing for walking, and she knew her feet would be aching by the time they got back home.

“Hmm,” Y/N said. “Might change into jeans, actually.”

“Why?” Nathan asked, furrowing his brows. “You look good in that.”

“I know, but the chafing.”

Nathan, who had heard this before, only nodded. With his noodle legs, he had never experienced chafing, and therefore did not say anything. Y/N knew this and appreciated him not trying to relate to her problems as a plus size woman. He could understand many of her problems, but never that.

Bringing her trouser bag forth, she got a pair of black jeans out, putting them on, making sure the sock boots were on the outside of the tight-fitted denim, and then the two of them were on their way. Y/N brought a tote bag, putting her phone, purse, and flat keys in it.

They arrived at Haggerston tube station on Lee Street, and once they were there, Nathan helped Y/N set up her Oyster card. The card would be an easier payment method for public transport around London, and though she could easily just tap her bank card, an Oyster card was, according to Nathan, a better way of doing it.

“You can use it for right about anything,” Nathan explained as they stood by the Overground platform, waiting for the Crystal Palace / New Cross / West Croydon train to arrive. “We’re talking Underground, Overground, Tramlink, all buses, River Services, you name it.”

“You always take the tube to uni.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Nate, you literally send a snapchat every single day before you go to uni of you sitting on the Overground.”

Nathan tutted, shaking his head. “I also walk.”

“When?”

“Blimey, I can walk. I do have legs, have you seen them?”

“Pretty hard to miss when they take up 80% of your body.”

Nathan gasped, nudging Y/N before the two of them laughed. The train arrived, and they got onboard, sitting down on one of them orange seats along the walls. They got off at Whitechapel, weaving past people to get to the Underground this time. They took an escalator down to the District and Hammersmith & City lines, Y/N following Nathan as he made a right turn for the Eastbound route.

“I know that exact walk, from the Overground to the District Line, like the back of my hand,” Nathan said, grinning proudly as they stepped aboard the train, holding onto the pole in between two doors. The doors closed, and Y/N had to hold on tight as not to faceplant onto the tube floor. That would not have been an ideal way of starting her conversion into a proper Londoner.

“Thought you said you walked to uni as well.”

“Well, I still do!”

“Alright.” Y/N nodded. “When’re we getting off?”

“Stepney Green.”

“This is Stepney Green. Change here for Hammersmith & City-“

Y/N raised her eyebrows at Nathan. “Really? Not even one stop?”

“Leave off, you hag.”

“Please, mind the gap between the train and the platform edge.”

The two walked up to the surface again and started on their ten-minute walk to Helmond from there. Y/N thought it would take them longer to get there considering she was a slow walker, something Nathan always had to consider when walking around with her, but it did not. The lack of her parents’ presence still hung in the air around her, it was still thick as fog, and she knew the longing for their closeness would not clear away within the next few days, but the moment she set her eyes on her University, she forgot about everything for just a little bit.

Helmond, University of London rose up before them in beautiful red and white bricks, shining in the late September sun like a lone castle in the middle of a vast and dark forest. It felt like Y/N had been without food and water for days, and the sign of the castle, the sign of life, brought a new sense of meaning to her. The massive University took up an entire 175-acre rectangle in London, enrolling a total of 20 thousand students, and being the second biggest London University for that reason alone, only barely beaten by Battersea, University of London, who hosted 35 thousand. Regardless, Helmond was the oldest uni in London, the first one to be established in the capital in 1817. Y/N felt very small looking at it, even though it wasn’t a particularly tall building, but she knew how big it was from the Open Day she had spent walking around campus grounds with her parents.

Nathan led Y/N over to the stairs and the two walked on in. It was like stepping right into a Renaissance painting. The ceilings were tall and vaulted, grand pillars against the walls up and down the halls. This hall was white, but Y/N knew that in other places in Helmond, the ceilings were painted, making it look like a sort of Versailles rip-off.

Immediately as you walked in, you stepped into the entry hall that was filled with first years trying to find their way around the uni. Right ahead was the reception area and a statue of Victor Helmond, the founder of the school and the first headmaster. To Y/N, he looked right about just like those old statues from the 1800s did, he was no different with his medium height, messy hair, and beard. Through the tall French windows behind the reception and statue, Y/N glimpsed one of the two massive courtyards in the middle of the University.

The uni was built around two quads, separating them was another quad just behind a red and white brick bridge, making it easier for students to get to lectures on time instead of walking their way through the long hallways, past lecture halls, cafeteria, and shops. Y/N could envision herself walking that bridge quite a few times over the next few years. There was another statue in the middle of the courtyard Y/N could see now, red and white tiled paths leading up to the fountain it stood on from each of the four walls facing it. The other courtyard was a replica of this one, only the statue was different. The one Y/N could see was Victor Helmond’s wife, Maud, and she knew that in the other courtyard, there was a statue of Queen Victoria. She had been told all of this on her Open Day months ago.

People were sitting in the grass of the quads, either with books in their hands or surrounded by friends. No one looked to have a care in the world, not even another oncoming year at uni. Y/N wished she could be as relaxed as them, and told herself that at one point, when she felt more at home here, she would.

“Coming?” Nathan asked after a little while, walking backwards while keeping his eyes on Y/N.

“Yeah.”

She followed him and the two walked further down the hall where there was a queue. Nathan stopped there and smiled at Y/N, nodding in the direction of the open door.

“Won’t be too long, there are tons of student representatives standing there, so it’ll take us ten minutes,” Nathan explained.

And he was right, it did not take them long to get to the front of the queue. They were stood in what Y/N could only assume to be a room specifically used for meetings. The table was fixed to look like a horse shoe, right about ten student representatives standing there, helping to register those that were there to start their first year.

“Next!” a woman called, and with one last look at Nathan, Y/N walked in her direction, giving her, what she hoped to be, a friendly smile as she approached.

“What’s your surname?” the student representative asked.

“Montes.”

She looked behind her, taking some time to find a M. She walked up and down the row of tables behind her, but once she finally came back to Y/N, she placed a manila folder on the table in front of her.

“Y/N Montes, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Studying English Literature?”

“Yup.”

“Brilliant,” the woman said, bending down to retrieve something more Y/N had to bring with her. “Just sign your name, date of birth, and the student halls you’re living in on the paper in front of you, please.”

“I don’t live in halls.”

“Ah, well, then you just write your address down. The uni just wants to know where you live, really. Especially if you’ve moved here to attend uni.”

Y/N nodded, taking the pen laid before her and writing under Jack Williams that had been before her.

“English Lit?”

After only having signed her name, Y/N looked up at the girl to her left who had just talked. She was looking straight at Y/N with a small smile on her face.

“I’m doing English Lit, too,” the girl said, her smile growing.

Y/N smiled back. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she blonde said, grinning now. “I’m Chloe.”

“Y/N.”

Chloe made a small bow. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And yours.” Y/N cursed herself for not being funnier. This girl would not want to be her friend if she wasn’t funny.

“Not to be like this,” the bloke helping Chloe out said. “But could you do this outside? We need to register more people.”

“Of course,” Chloe said, sounding a little too charming for her own good. She glanced back at Y/N, hugging her manila folder to her chest. “See you around, Y/N.”

“And you.”

Y/N’s entire chest burst with a sort of contentment only strange encounters could bring forth. It was a sort of reminder that Y/N was appreciated and seen by someone she barely knew; someone she appreciated and saw in return. Knowing that, even though they might not stay friends for their entire time at uni, they would at least lean on each other as lectures began. She could find Chloe and sit down next to her, and it would not be weird.

“Wicked,” Nathan said as Y/N came walking in his direction with the Helmond folder in her hands. “Now, let’s go for dinner. I’m famished.”

And so they did. They stopped by a pub on the way home, staying there for two hours just talking, eating and drinking. It was nice to finally be with Nathan again. He had been in London for well over a month, and as much as Y/N wanted to come down there, she needed all those hours of work to earn money for uni. New Look did not pay well, but at least she had a bit of money to use right off the bat. She’d need a new job, though. And fast.

This time around they walked back to the flat, taking the hour it took to just take in the stroll that Y/N knew she would take more than she would take the tube. There was just a lot to look at, and no hills, meaning that the stroll would not kill her. Another bonus was the time she would get to spend just listening to music, something she adored. Once again, she completely forgot about her parents and them leaving, until they reached the flat an hour later. Remembering brought a white-hot ball of aching to Y/N’s stomach, making it hard for her to swallow properly. She assumed it would be like this for a few days, if not weeks. She’d have to find her place and her people before the feeling of longing for her parents and life back home in Nottingham, would dissipate.

It was very dark in the flat when they finally got home around 8. Nathan stumbled a bit when they walked through the door, making Y/N laugh her ass off. Nathan only flipped her off before urging her to walk on in. She did, taking her shoes off and leaving them by the door. The light in the kitchen was on, and because Y/N assumed they must have left it on before they left, she did not bother to take a proper sweeping look over the room before reaching for the light switch. She stopped.

Nathan was busy closing and locking the front door, humming to that Tinie Tempah song that was always played in any sort of club setting. He must have been clubbing the night before, she reckoned. The rest of the flat was quiet. It was left in darkness. It was therefore weird to Y/N that she saw a hallucination in the middle of the lit-up kitchen. Would it not have been wiser of her brain, a bit scarier also perhaps, to put that hallucination in the corner of her dark room? Why was she seeing it right there, in the kitchen, in vivid detail? She wouldn’t remember ever having hallucinated… him. Her sister sometimes showed up, but Y/N never saw her in detail, only as she remembered her from that last time she saw her. But this… this was different. Y/N fucking hated it.

“Y/N,” he said, voice darker than she remembered it.

Blinking a few times to get the sight of him out of her head, she turned the lights off and turned to Nathan who struggled taking his shoes off, now humming to another song.

“Nate, literally shut up. Chainsmokers is rank.”

“Oi! Closer is a fucking belter!”

“Y/N, could you turn the lights back on, please?”

There it was again. His voice. She closed her eyes and shook her head forcefully, as she did to get rid of Marcela’s image. With a hand on the strap of her tote bag, Y/N started on her journey towards the stairs.

“Oi, Y/N, why’re you leaving the man in the dark?” Nathan asked, frowning over at Y/N as she stopped moving. What… What did Nathan just say? Had he seen Y/N’s hallucination as well? Were they both hallucinating? What had been in the two pints they’d just had? Nathan wasn’t drunk, was he?

She could tell by the yellow light that flooded into the hallway from the kitchen that Nathan had turned the lights back on. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder at Nathan, meeting his gaze right away. Nathan glanced into the kitchen, giving the hallucination a smile before asking, a little too casually, “You’re home early.”

“Work was slow. Let me off early so I could get a few extra hours sleep in before uni starts.”

Y/N shook her head again, walking over and putting a hand on Nathan’s shoulder to check if he was real and not just another hallucination. Nathan looked to Y/N right away, a deep furrow to his brows as Y/N felt his neck and cheek.

“Have you cracked your skull? What’re you doing?” Nathan asked.

“You can see him?” Y/N blinked at Nathan, nodding in the direction of the kitchen.

“Of course, I can see Harry. I’m not blind and I did develop the ability to sense another human beings’ presence when they’re in the same room as me. He’s standing right there, isn’t he?”

“No, he… he’s not…”

Y/N looked at the hallucination again then. Harry Styles. She had not thought about him in months, had not seen him in years. They had not been in each other’s proximity since he lived in Nottingham with his father three years ago. Had not spoken properly since that day in late August 2014 when they spent the night together. And there he was, standing in the kitchen of her new uni flat. She could not believe it. There were so many questions running through Y/N’s head in that second that she did not know which one to ask Nathan, who, it seemed, had no problem with Harry Styles being in their kitchen.

“Yes, he is,” Harry answered slowly, looking at Y/N with his eyebrows raised. They rose even higher up his forehead once he caught Nathan’s eye. “You didn’t tell her.”

“What?” Y/N looked at Nathan. “Didn’t tell me what?”

Nathan raised his shoulders in a shrug that Y/N knew was only done to buy her best friend some time. He pursed his lips, refusing to meet either of their eyes. “Might’ve slipped my mind.”

Harry cocked his head, putting the glass of milk he was holding back onto the counter. “Slipped… your mind?”

“I forgot.”

“You forgot?!”

“Y/N’s blind, you’re deaf. What’s next?”

“Nate, please, for the love of fuck, tell me you told her.”

“Nate?” That made Y/N retreat, two lines etched between her brows as she looked to Harry again, then back at Nathan. “You only let your mates call you that.”

Harry let out a short, high-pitched laugh. “Brilliant. You didn’t even tell her about me in general. What’s that about? You ashamed of me?”

“Oh, don’t take the piss, you wank-stain.” Nathan rolled his eyes. “I knew it would not go down very well.”

Harry crossed his arms. “And this way it would?”

“I was gonna sit her down and tell her, but I never got around to it. Alcohol called, she wanted us to have two pints at a pub.”

“Don’t blame this on a pint, you could’ve told her ages ago.”

“Can someone please,” Y/N called, making Nathan stop whatever he was about to say. “Tell me what the bloody hell is going on?”

Nathan and Harry looked at one another, exchanging a sort of glance Y/N could almost decipher, but in her confused state was too dizzy to try and comprehend. They stood like that for a few seconds, making grimaces at one another, having a telepathic argument that Y/N wanted in on.

“Hello?!” she called, making both boys jump and look at her again.

“Nathan,” Harry said, picking his glass of milk up again and taking a sip.

“Right,” Nathan sighed, turning his body in Y/N’s direction. “Y/N, Harry’s gonna be living with you for the rest of the year.”

Harry huffed. “Want me to move out next year, do you? Don’t wanna live with me our third year?”

“Oh, you know I do, but one year at a time, yeah? Don’t need to traumatise her more than necessary.”

Y/N did not know what to do. Out of all possible scenarios, out of all horrible happenings at University, she had not seen this one coming. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought this would ever happen. She quite frankly thought she had left Harry Styles behind her in her past, never to be in contact with or meet him again. But he was one of her new flatmates. She would be living with him for at least a year, two if she did not decide to move out. They had been each other’s first time, and then never spoke to each other again, despite everything else. That was three years ago, and now what? Were they supposed to talk it through? Were they supposed to ignore it? Ignore each other?

Y/N’s head was spinning, and it seemed the rest of the flat was spinning with her. Taking one last look at Harry and Nathan, she started walking in the direction of the stairs. Whatever the two were arguing about, they stopped the second they saw her strolling away.

“Oi, what’re you doing?” asked Nathan.

“I’m fucking going to my room to get away from you,” Y/N asked, voice razor sharp. “Unless you forgot to tell me there’s a corpse hidden inside my wardrobe?”

“It’s just 8. The night’s still young.”

“I don’t care.”

“Mate-“

“-Is there a corpse in my room? Or lice in my mattress? Or any other rather big news you’d like to tell me?”

Nathan must have known this would happen, but he still looked nervous as he shook his head, indicating that there was nothing else he was supposed to have told her but hadn’t.

“Good,” Y/N said. “I’ll deal with whatever kind of situation this is, tomorrow.” She paused. “Or maybe the day after that.” Another pause. “Fuck this. Fuck you.” She pointed at Nathan.

“I’m just trying to make us all be friends here,” he said. “Besides, don’t fuck me, I’m gay. And…” Nathan nodded in the direction of the kitchen where Harry stood. “You’ve already fucked him-“

“-I’ll literally murder you, Nathan,” Y/N hissed, and she swore she could hear a grunt of disapproval from Harry’s end as well, not having appreciated Nathan’s comment.

Without another look at them, she walked up the stairs and to her room, locking herself in there. It was then that she realised she hadn’t gotten her bed ready for the night. However, in her infuriated state, Y/N did not care. She got her pillow out from one of her bags along with her duvet, opening the windows to let some fresh air in and pulled the curtains close. She wasn’t really about to go to bed, but she knew that she would cry in not too long because she missed home, and her anger at Nathan and Harry did not help. If she got angry enough, she’d cry. Hard.

She could not believe this. It did not feel real. Ever since that night in August, she had not talked to Harry, and she did not think she ever would again. However, here she was, living in the same flat as him. It wasn’t as if their time together had been more awkward than they had anticipated, but the reason why she could not stand him was because, even though had kept every single other promise he’d ever made, he had not even done as much as look at her after they had sex. He had not called like he promised he would. Had not kept in contact with her after moving away. Had not been what he had promised he would be: different. A mate.

They had promised each other at the time that this would not be awkward, they would just get it over with, be awkward with one another, and then forget it ever happened. They would go back to being mates. But then Harry had shut her out, and they had not talked since. At times, when Y/N thought about this not too long after it had happened, she was scared that the entire reason why Harry had even been friendly in the first place was so they’d fuck and forget about one another. Sometimes it was easier to tell herself that than to remember all the lovely times. Y/N chose to repress those. He was not worth it.

She heard Nathan’s voice and then Harry’s along with footsteps. They were walking up the stairs, talking in hushed voices as if scared to wake anyone up. Y/N supposed it was the last flatmate that she had yet to meet, and considering how Nathan had not told her she would be living with Harry for the next year, she was scared to think who the last flatmate would be.

There was a knock at her door.

Y/N rubbed a hand over her face. “Drink piss.”

“Y/N, I just wanna talk.”

“No, Nathan.”

He jiggled the door handle. “Please.”

“Nathan, I need to be alone or else I’m sure I’m gonna fucking choke you till your eyes pop,” Y/N said. “Harry Styles, Nathan!”

“Yes, Y/N, I know!” Nathan said, sounding genuinely conflicted as well. “I know I should have told you he goes to Helmond! And that we’re mates here! I know!”

“Why didn’t you?”

“’Cause I knew you wouldn’t live with me if I told you,” Nathan admitted. “I had been looking forward to you coming here for so long, and Harry, Mason, and I kind of agreed to move in together. I told Harry, but he never had a problem with it, but I knew you would, because… well… everything that happened in Notts.”

Y/N rolled her eyes.

“But believe me that I didn’t do this as a way for you and Harry to, like, start talking again-“

“-‘Cause if you did-“

“-Oh, I know I would’ve been dead by now if that was the case, I know.” Nathan sighed. “Y/N, he’s not as much of a knob-“

“-He is a knobhead. Now, then, forever. Now, leave me alone.”

Nathan knew there was no way for him to make this any better. Once Y/N had made her mind up, it was hard to change her perspective on things. Getting her used to Harry, to living with him, to accepting this fate of hers, would take a very long fucking time.

Nathan said a small, “Later” from down the hall, and Harry replied with a “Have a good one” that seemed a bit closer somehow. Before she knew it, the door just beside hers opened, a small creak to it as Harry stepped in. It closed just after Nathan’s did, and Y/N heard the sound of footsteps from the room just beside hers. Not only was Harry Styles, the person who took her virginity, and Y/N Montes, the person who took Harry Styles’ virginity, living in the same flat. No, their rooms were also right next to one another. Brilliant. Fucking brilliant. Not only had she cried an abnormal amount today, sprained her ankle some on her walk home, and been uncharacteristically awkward when meeting new people, but she had also moved into the same house as her ex-friend.

Y/N turned her face, burying it into her pillow, and screamed.

Monday, 18 September 2017

There were people everywhere. Y/N was used to there being heaps of people everywhere she looked and did not mind crowds. She liked the company of people around her, the sounds of civilisation. In fact, it relaxed her much more than a calm countryside ever could. When walking through Canada Water, she did not mind people bumping into her or them walking right past her. It just showed signs of people and she loved that. She hated being alone, hated the sound of her own breathing and nothing to accompany her.

That was one of the reasons why she had looked forward to moving to London in the first place. She wanted the comfort of never being alone, of always having someone around, which she knew she would appreciate about London. Of course, she knew there were places in London she could go to be on her own, but she liked the idea of never, truly, being alone. The prospect of being alone, terrified her. She was never lonely, she had a lot of friends, she was close with her parents, but being alone, with no one else around, was something else entirely.

She did not feel lonely, even though she did not know any of the people around her at this precise moment in the tube station, she was surrounded by people and there was a comfort in that. Years & Years blasted from her earbuds and it was hard not to sing along when Desire went as hard as it did. So, instead of singing with her whole chest in the middle of the tube station, Y/N settled for miming the words with her mouth. She loved Years & Years more than she could articulate, so it was hard for her not to go crazy while listening to them. She could not wait for their second album to drop sometime next year.

Y/N walked towards the Eastbound platform as she reached the Jubilee line level. Nathan would be waiting for her at Ikea in Greenwich, as he had gone for a few other errands in the area, which ones Y/N did not know, but she had no problem meeting him there. However, she would have much more preferred it if he could have gone there with her, as she much more preferred to hang out with her friends than getting to places by herself. She just needed to take the Jubilee line to North Greenwich, and then take the 161 bus to Millennium Leisure Park East, and there Nathan would be waiting for her. That was all she had to do on her own, then she would have company.

She had not yet forgiven him for not telling her about Harry, but she didn’t have anyone else to take to Ikea, so she’d just have to ignore it until she had the energy to talk it through. Until then, she’d be passive aggressive and make Nathan feel bad for keeping it from her. Not the best way to go about it, she knew, but it would do for now.

The train arrived and Y/N waited patiently before she boarded it, letting the passengers that were already aboard get off before she started making her way on. Too anxious to sit down, Y/N took to standing by the pole just by the door she just entered, holding onto it with two other business men, neither who paid anyone on that train any attention as all of it were on the phone in front of them. Y/N reached for her phone then, typing out a message to Nathan that she was on her way. Or… at least she hoped she was.

“This is a Jubilee line train to Stratford; the next station is Canary Warf.”

Y/N let out a small sigh of relief, mentally patting herself on the back for managing to make it this far on her journey to Ikea Greenwich without getting completely lost. She felt her phone vibrate in her hand, and she immediately raised it to look at her new notification.

Nathan

Glad you’re finding your way around London, can be quite challenging

Nathan

Especially when you have a pea brain

Nathan

Like you do

Y/N snorted, started typing a text out right away as she held onto the blue pole for dear life.

Y/N

Scientists have been working for years to find a brain inside your gigantic head, seems it’s too small to be found, even under a magnifying glass

Because of poor reception, the text did not send, and the thought of being so low underground that she had trouble reaching her loved ones, suddenly scared her a bit. Y/N closed her phone and looked up at the tube map as the speaker overhead announced their arrival at Canary Wharf, people milling on and off the train.

Y/N saw something just before the door closed. She stopped breathing. It was only for a split-second, but she could swear she had seen something. She recognised the denim jacket, the hair, the smile. No matter the scenario, where she was, what was happening, Y/N would remember and make out her sister. She would recognise her anywhere. This was no different.

However, it had only been for a single second, not even that. The doors had closed before Y/N got to take a proper look. Right away, she closed her eyes tightly, willing her violently beating heart and pulse to slow down. It had just been a hallucination; it had not been real. I had just been a hallucination; it had not been real, and she continued to tell herself that until the train started driving away from the platform. Once she finally opened her eyes and looked out of the train windows, the darkness of the underground tunnels had surrounded them. Marcela was nowhere in sight.

Y/N leaned her forehead against the blue pole, feeling a slight layer of sweat over her cupid’s bow and forehead. The Marcela hallucination had affected her more than she thought it would have. Taking a deep breath, Y/N kept her eyes shut and her mind closed until she reached North Greenwich. Then, forcing the image of her sister away, Y/N walked off the train the second it stopped and almost ran for the exit and fresh air. Marcela was not alive; she had been dead for three years. She had been murdered three years ago. Neither hallucinations nor will would bring her back, it was time Y/N made her brain believe that as well.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 28th February, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets 🏛️ @sunflowerstache 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh 🏛️

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #1dff #super super super unsure about the cover art i'm most likely gonna change it #BUTTTTT HERE IT IS WOHOOOO

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malfoysstilinski · 4 years

Text

girl in the mirror pt2 | DRACO MALFOY

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

SUMMARY: part two of girl in the mirror. draco meets his soulmate for the first time. she’s pretty cool for a muggle, but reveals something that has him heading back to hogwarts a little less than happy.

WARNINGS: none i think?

A/N: i dont think americans have houses and i assume most of my readers are american,, so in case its confusing obviously theyre like harry potter houses, but jk rowling made it ten times more dramatic and a main part of her story. we dont really care about houses irl.

Explaining to you that Draco was a wizard was one of the most frustrating and hardest things the blond boy had ever had to do. Only hours later were you starting to reluctantly believe that he was telling the truth. He’d been reluctant to tell you, but since you were his soulmate, you were allowed to know. You had the right.

The pair of you hadn’t even realised how much time had gone by, sat on your bed as you stare at him unsurely.

“You look as though you still don’t believe me,” Draco says. “I’ve shown you my wand.”

“Yes, but you’ve not shown me any real magic, have you?” You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms across your chest.

“I told you, I have to wait a few months ‘till I’m seventeen,” Draco reminds you with a roll of the eyes. “Then I’ll show you something.”

You sigh, not wanting to believe him but having a funny feeling that he was telling the truth. I mean, how else could you explain the fact that he had literally fallen through your mirror?

“So... We’re soulmates,” you repeat from earlier, before the two of you had fought over whether or not Draco was really a wizard.

“Yeah,” Draco whispers with a nod. “You know what that is, right?”

“I guess,” you mumble, hugging your arms closer to yourself. “But why is your soulmate not... magic as well?”

Draco shrugs. “Happens sometimes,” he says. “Never ever to a Malfoy...” He looks a little paler as he says so. “But I suppose there’s a first for everything.”

You wonder why it’s a big deal for a member of his family to be put with ‘a Muggle’ as he had called you before.

“Enough about me,” Draco claps his hands together when he sees the clogs in your brain turning. “Let me find out about you. Please. I’ve been wondering about you since the day I turned thirteen.”

“There’s not much to say,” you sigh. “I guess I just go to school... come home... homework... maybe hang out with friends sometimes.”

Draco seems interested despite your negative mood, sitting up straighter with an eager look behind his silver eyes and an encouraging small smile on his face.

He looks odd sat on your bed. He truly does look like some sort of magical being with his pale features and icy hair, and the black suit and turtleneck and polished shoes make him look like he belongs truly where he says he’s from-- a castle or something. Not your bedroom that screams twenty-first century teenage girl.

“Well, tell me about school,” Draco suggests, glancing you over. “Your tie is red. Is that your house?”

You glance down with a frown, pulling at your tie. “Hm? Oh, no. I’m in Austen. The yellow house.”

Draco frowns. “Is that good or bad?”

You frown back, raising a brow at him. “I mean... we won the most house points last year? Not really a big deal. Oh, and we won house games, like, two years in a row.”

“Not a big deal?” Draco scoffs. “Well done, Y/N! That is a great deal.”

You stare at him like he’s grown two heads. “Thanks? I’m assuming houses are a big deal at your school?”

“Well, of course,” he says rather arrogantly. “I’m a Slytherin. How were you sorted into your house? Do you take personality quizzes in the Muggle world?”

“No,” you giggle slightly and Draco’s heart skips a beat at the sound. “You just get put into whatever house depending on what tutor group you’re in. I switched from green to yellow half way through secondary school because our tutor group got full.”

Draco had never looked so confused. He wonders how Muggles are even motivated to do well when their house points don’t even really mean anything to them.

He knows a few things about Muggles-- he knows they definitely do not play Qudditch on flying brooms and would much rather play football. He guesses their house games are like that.

“My tie’s red because I’m a prefect,” you say and reach into your bedside drawer, producing a red badge with ‘prefect’ written in gold on it.

Draco’s grin brightens, taking it from you as he scans it over. “Oh, they look just like ours!”

You laugh at his eagerness. “That’s good.”

There’s a moment of silence and Draco peers at all of the records placed on your wall. He stands and moved to look at some of the vinyl covers, pointing at your The Neighbourhood one, releasing a huff of air past his nose and glancing over his shoulder back at you.

“You listen to this one all the time,” Draco states. “I like the one about jumper weather or something.”

You laugh and nod. “Sweater Weather. It’s a good song...” You trail off. “You know, I don’t really understand your music. You only seem to listen to classical.”

“That’s me,” Draco says, scratching the back of his neck. “Playing the piano. I don’t- I don’t really listen to music much. I never really have to when you listen to it 24/7 anyway.”

You look away with a small blush on your face, bashful. “Sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Draco moves to sit beside you on your bed. “I love it, actually. It makes assemblies less boring and sleeping in a dorm far more bearable.”

“I’m glad,” you say. “Do you want to listen to something now?”

Draco’s breath hitches because it’s all he’s ever wanted. He nods slowly, scared that you would laugh in his face and take your suggestion back. You grab your phone off of your bedside table and press shuffle on a playlist. Draco can’t believe how weird it is to hear your music playing but not have it muffled in his ears as if he was underwater.

He watches with parted lips as you slide down so you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Draco looks at you like you put the stars and the moon in the sky. You might be just a Muggle, but you’re magic to him. The true definition of it.

Slowly, unsure if he’s crossing a line or not, Draco slides down so he’s lying beside you on your bed, on his back like you. You both stare at your ceiling and he notices that you have constellations painted on it. He nearly melts when he sees ‘Draco’, one of the biggest ones.

He slides his hand down the small gap in between you and hesitantly holds your hand before guiding it up above your heads. It’s not like real stargazing, but Draco likes it. Maybe one day he would be able to sneak you to the Astronomy Tower and show you the same sky he stares at most nights.

“That’s Draco,” he says.

You smile as you turn to face him and Draco shuffles to face you too, the only sounds being your small breaths and an Arctic Monkeys song playing behind you.

“Maybe I always knew?” You suggest.

“Maybe,” Draco chuckles back and turns to look up at the ceiling.

You spend a few seconds admiring his side profile; his sharp jaw and the strength of his nose. It’s hard to be scared of the stranger when he’s so beautiful and feels so familiar. Like a puzzle piece you’d been looking for.

“You’ve only been playing sad songs recently,” Draco says quietly after a little bit. “Is everything okay with you? I was worried... so I asked my friend to teach me how to do the mirror trick.”

You frown a little at the reminder and immediately grow embarrassed. You’re not sure if you should make up a lie or try to change the subject, but Draco seems really concerned and you’d feel awful lying.

“My... Well, um, my boyfriend broke up with me,” you say awkwardly.

You feel Draco stiffen beside you. He sits up after a few seconds. He knows it’s not really your fault but he can’t help feeling jealous and angry. He swallows as he stares at a spot on your carpet, unsure how to feel knowing that his soulmate had been with another person.

He needed a moment to think. He didn’t want to scare you with his harsh words or looks.

“I should get back,” Draco mutters, trying to make his voice sound strong as he stands.

“Draco, I--”

“It’s nearly what? Four in the morning? I should of been going ages ago anyway,” he forces you a grim smile as he heads towards the mirror. “I’ll try and talk to you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You watch with a saddened expression as Draco slips his hand through the glass or your mirror and is suddenly gone. You push yourself up from the mattress and rush over, your fingertips brushing it but coming to a dead end. You blink back tears, wondering if you had just imagined the entire thing.

You stare into the mirror, unaware that Draco is sadly staring back.

...

i know it’s a lil dramatic but that’s draco for you and teen love in general tbh

#draco malfoy #draco #malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #dracomalfoy #harry potter #harry potter imagine #imagine #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy soulmate au #harry potter au

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ssa-babygirl · 4 years

Text

Out of My League [Part 3]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: ~4.5k

Summary: Nothing brings two friends together like a bit of grief with a side of daddy issues. (Mixed POV, includes flashbacks)

Warning(s): As the summary states, angst, grief and daddy issues, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of cancer, a few swear words, i think that’s it??? i use the word “smile” like 138407894 times i’m so sorry i hate noticing my crutch words

Author’s Note: I am SO sorry how long this took I honestly have no excuse, this chapter isn’t even that great but this is only two thirds of what I actually intended this part to be so GUESS WHAT I SPLIT IT UP!!!! the next part shouldn’t take too long (I say that but watch it’s gonna take like another year) and it’s gonna be super fluffy so DON’T Y’ALL WORRY IT’S GONNA BE FLUFF CENTRAL FOR THE NEXT COUPLE OF CHAPTERS

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

WASHINGTON D.C., 2007

(Reader POV)

You had only been to D.C. a few times before to visit your dad, normally under happier circumstances, such as him getting sworn in for another term, but this time was not the case. You got the phone call from your mother the evening before when you quickly packed yours and Jamie’s bags for the flight that left later that night. The few hours you had spent in D.C. already felt like long days. You were physically and emotionally exhausted. Jamie had never been on a plane before and was grappling with the effects of jet lag.

You needed a bit of a pick-me-up yourself, so you ran over to a coffee shop for a bit of a change of scenery. It was about eight o'clock in the morning when you heard your name being called, but not by the barista making your drinks, but by a familiar voice that you had only heard over the phone for a couple of months since his last visit home. You turned around to face the source and locked eyes with Spencer.

“Hey!” You smiled, trying your best to not look like you had just had the longest 24 hours of your life.

“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you say you were gonna be in town?”

“I didn’t know I was gonna be in town until last night!” Spencer could see right through you. He pursed his lips, not asking what was wrong yet, but still opting to check-in and make sure you’re okay.

“How are you feeling? Jet lagged?”

“Some profiler.” Your chuckle came out more annoyed than you would have liked it to.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, just getting some coffee--”

“No, like, are you okay?” He knew something was wrong, he wasn’t stupid, quite the opposite, by a long shot.

“I’m fine, Spence,” you lied through your teeth.

“Then who isn’t?” Panic and worry flashed across his face, “Is Jamie okay?

“Yes! He’s fine!” You couldn’t help but smile at the relief Spencer displayed that your son was safe and well, his hand coming up to rest over his heart. You hesitated for a second before giving in and telling him why you seemed so off, “My dad’s sick in the hospital.”

“Oh! Do they know what’s wrong with him?”

“Yep. Stage 4 lung cancer.” Your dad had been a smoker for most of your life. He tried to quit after Jamie was born, but the damage had already been done.

Spencer looked genuinely heartbroken as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of what to say next “Do you know how much time he has?”

“Couple of weeks if we’re lucky.”

His eyebrow furrowed and his golden eyes softened to an impossible degree, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This wasn’t sudden, we’ve been expecting it, but when the doctor says eight to twelve months, and you get through month eight, you start hoping it’s gonna be twelve.”

“Are you going back to the hospital now?”

“Yeah-”

“I’ll come with you!”

“Don’t you have work?”

“I don’t have to be there for another hour and,” he checks his watch, which was pulled over the sleeve of his dark gray cardigan, “fifty-six minutes.”

“The hospital’s out of the way and you hate being late.”

“I hate the thought of you going through this alone even more.” You tried to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling that gave you but ultimately failed. Those big brown eyes refused to stop studying your face, analyzing any signs that you needed him, which to be fair, you did.

“I’m not alone, I got Jamie and my mom.”

“Even more the reason for me to want to go with you.” He finally dropped the solemn frown and took up a bright smile instead. You swore his grin was contagious because, by the time you both got your coffees, you were smiling just as wide.

You drove back to the hospital in comfortable silence. Walking back to your father’s room felt easier with him by your side. Jamie looked up from his drawing as he saw you approach, beaming at you and his favorite federal agent.

“Doctor Spencer!” He came running up to him and hugging his legs.

“Hey, little man!” Spencer ruffled his hair and grinned down at the tiny human squeezing his arms around his thigh.

Your mother looked up from her book, “Doctor? Spencer? Wait. As in…”

“Yeah, mom.”

She stands and wraps him in a hug, “Oh my goodness, sweetheart, you got so big! You’re all grown up! Oh, and you’re cute, too!” She pinched his now pink cheek as his face twisted into a bashful smile, “Right, Y/N? Spencer got cute!”

Now you were blushing a little.

Why am I blushing? I don’t blush over Spencer!

You pursed your lips and looked him up and down. His striped tie was crooked under his cardigan. His long hair was a bit shaggy, as if he rolled out of bed, showered, and decided to go to work. You just laughed nervously as you met Spencer’s eyes. God, those eyes. “Yeah… I’d say so.”

“You definitely grew into your looks. Honey, this is Spencer. Remember the boy that used to tutor Y/N?”

“Oh, nice to finally meet you, son, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Your father shifted in his bed, managing to sit up slightly.

“You too, sir, I just wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

“Don’t give me any of that ‘sir’ crap, I got enough of that working on the Hill,” your father chuckled but his hearty laugh quickly devolved into a coughing fit. Your mother sat back down on the bed next to him and fed him some ice chips to keep him hydrated.

“So, Spencer, Y/N says you work for the FBI now?” She turns her attention away from her husband and forces a smile.

“Yes! I do.”

You took a seat and sipped your coffee, “He was on the team that helped save Jamie, remember?”

“What division are you in?” Your dad asked.

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“I got some buddies in the bureau, who’s your supervisor?”

“Aaron Hotchner?”

“Oh, I knew him in his prosecutor days. Helluva lawyer, he got some of my clients put away.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, they were guilty, weren’t they?”

Spencer’s phone rang in his pocket, “Speaking of which, I have to go. Got a case.”

“Go! Don’t be late!”

“Go catch the bad guy, Doctor Spencer!”

“Will do, Jamie.” He ruffled his hair before turning to your parents, “Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. L/N, it was great seeing you.”

“Bye, sweetheart, don’t be a stranger!”

“I’ll walk you out, return the favor.” You walked quietly with him.

“Listen, I don’t know when I’ll be home from this, but I’ll let you know when I get back, and if you’re still here just give me a call, okay?”

“Of course, Spence. Now go catch the bad guy!” You grinned as you parroted your son’s words. He returned your smile and pulled you into a hug. You could feel tears brimming in your eyes, but you fought it off best you could. Spencer could still sense your pain and hugged you as tight as possible. You were the one to pull away first, patting his back and forcing your pursed lips into a smile. His phone started to ring shortly after.

“Don’t let me keep you.”

(Spencer’s POV)

The case went on for too long. Two whole weeks passed before we were able to come home from Minneapolis. A man was strangling women with short black hair between the ages 30-40 because they reminded him of his mother, it’s standard stuff, it should have been a pretty cut and dry case, but the guy was almost impossible to find, he was completely off the grid. It took Garcia days to just get us a name, let alone contact information. He killed two other women while we were there. One of them was a mother, she had three kids all under the age of 10. Cases like these were always tough, but Gideon had seen enough to talk us all through it. I still wasn’t used to him being gone.

I couldn’t get any sleep on the jet. The nightmares have been coming back with a vengeance since Gideon left. He was like a father to me, my protector, my mentor, and now I have no one.

That’s hyperbolic; I do have the team, and they miss him too, but I’m pretty much alone out on the field. I know I can go to them, but it doesn’t feel right. I don’t like to rely on others because when they leave, I’m by myself.

Which is exactly why I am the only one awake on the jet home.

I suppose I wasn’t totally alone, I could call Y/N, but I wouldn’t wanna bother her if she was with her family. She only has so much time left with her dad. I took my phone out of my pocket anyway and saw a missed call from her last night, I hadn’t seen it before because of the case. If she wanted to talk she probably needed to, right?

I mulled it over in my head, and before I could even come to a decision, my fingers worked on autopilot, dialing the same number I had memorized years ago, and hit call.

Las Vegas, 1994

I picked up the book from the top of the pile she set down on the counter, “You’re reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“Yeah, for class.”

“If you need any help with that, my mother was a classics professor, I’ve read most of Shakespeare’s works.”

“Really? That’s cool. I’ve read the basics in other classes, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Macbeth, all that, but this one is definitely my favorite so far.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I don’t know why, but the idea of falling in love with the wrong person just sorta… I dunno… resonates, I guess.”

“Yeah, same here.”

She snorted, “You’re like 12, how would you know about that?”

I bit my lip before explaining, “Reminds me of my parents. They loved each other at one point, obviously, but not enough to stop my dad from leaving us.”

She cringed to herself as if she realized some horrible mistake, “Jeez, I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“How long ago did he leave?”

“Two years ago.”

“So it’s just been you and your mom?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at the pencil as she twisted it in between her fingers. Her eyes refused to meet mine. “My dad has worked in D.C. pretty much my whole life, and a lot of the time it was just my mom and me. He was always home for Christmas and birthdays, he came to all my recitals as a kid, but he was gone the rest of the year. I see him maybe… fifteen days out of the year?”

She finally looked up, if only for a second. Seeing her eyes, at last, I took note of the sadness behind them, “Which is fine, it’s better than nothing, but I don’t really have a dad the other 350 days of the year, you know? I could call him, but I don’t, it’s always ‘Sorry sweetheart, I’m a bit busy right now.’”

“Yeah, my dad was always too busy too.”

“I know our situations are still really different, and you probably already know this after two years, but it does get easier.”

Present Day

(Reader POV)

You click the button to answer the call, “Spencer?”

“Hey! We’re landing soon, you still in D.C.?” His voice is scratchy like he had just woken up, or like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in a couple of hours.

“Y-yeah! I’m still staying with my mom.”

“How’s your dad?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to, your silence answered his question well enough.

“Oh, shit…” Spencer groaned, “God, Y/N, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be, you didn’t know.”

“How long ago?”

“Last week, the funeral was yesterday.” You could hear him grimace over the phone.

“Y/N I am… so sorry I couldn’t be there for you—”

“Don’t be! You had to work, it’s okay, Spencer.”

“I should have called sooner.”

You almost laughed at his tone, “Spencer, you were catching a serial killer, it’s not your responsibility to make sure I’m okay.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing. I’m fine.”

“How’s Jamie, god, how’s your mother?”

“She’s holding up. I’m helping her out for a while, I don’t want her to be in this house alone.” You decided to leave out the part about you putting a downpayment on an apartment a couple of blocks away from your mother’s house for now.

“How’s Jamie doing?” He asked with perfect timing as Jamie flopped onto the couch behind you.

“Wanna talk to him? He’s right here.”

“Can I? Please?”

“Jamie, baby, wanna talk to Doctor Spencer?” He didn’t even say yes before he leaped up from his seat and grabbed the phone from your hand.

“Hi, Doc!”

“Hey, little man! How’s it going? How are you?” You could still hear his excited voice even though it was nowhere near your ear anymore. It brought a smile to your face as you saw Jamie light up at the sound of your friend on the other side of the call.

“I’m okay. Did you catch the bad guy?”

“Yes, Jamie, we got him. How’s your mom?”

“She’s saying she’s fine, but she’s still really sad.”

“Well, can you put her back on with me?” Jamie hands the phone back to you and runs off to return to his coloring book and crayons.

You sighed before putting the phone back to your ear, “Don’t worry about me, Spence—”

“Come to the BAU.”

He said the words so fast you almost needed him to repeat it, “What?”

“I mean it, I’ll call you when we land, come visit. Bring Jamie and your mom.”

“Won’t you have a ton of work to do when you land?”

“I couldn’t sleep, I did all my paperwork on the jet.”

“Spencer—”

“Please. I need to see you guys.” He was practically begging. It tugged at your heart in a familiar way, but there was a pit in your stomach that you couldn’t place.

“What happened on the case?”

He sighed, “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Just come in like, an hour.”

You tried to lighten the mood just a little bit, “My mom’s been obsessively baking, want us to bring you your favorite?”

“Did she make her famous oatmeal cookies?” You could almost see his face and the way his brown eyes lit up, even while he was on a plane hours away.

The image brought a soft smile to your face and sparked a tiny bit of light in your heart, “Yep!”

“Y/N L/N, if you bring me some, I will be forever indebted to you.”

“You owe me nothing, Doctor Reid.”

Security waved you through to the elevator, Spencer had cleared you for entry already. One guard hit the button for the sixth floor and sent you up, one hand holding Jamie’s and the other holding a Tupperware of your mom’s cookies. When the doors opened, you saw the entrance to the bullpen, desks filled with paperwork, and busy agents trying to get it all done. As the three of you crept through the hall to the glass doors, your eyes locked onto Spencer, who was sprawled out in his office chair with a thick book, legs propped up on his desk, and glasses balanced on the ridge of his nose.

“Hi! Who are you here to see?” A chipper blonde with purple cat eyeglasses and curly ponytails waved at you from down the hall.

“Spencer Reid?”

“Oh! He mentioned he’d have visitors, you must be Y/N! I’m Penelope.”

“That’s a pretty name!” Jamie beamed up to the woman, who clutched a hand over her heart and returned his smile.

“Oh! Thank you, sweetheart! What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Jamie!”

“Oh you are just precious, he is precious, Y/N, good kid.”

You laughed at the pair’s enthusiasm, “Thank you, can we just go straight in?”

“Yep! Go ahead!”

You walked up to his desk and placed the cookies next to his computer, pulling his attention away from his book. He turned to look up at you, closing the book and throwing it where his feet rested before he jumped up to wrap his arms around you. Jamie hugged his leg and your mother pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hey, how are you guys doing?”

“Spencer, we’re fine.”

He didn’t say anything, just examined your face for any sign of a lie. The frustration on his face said he didn’t find one.

“Stop profiling me, I’m okay.”

“Mommy, can I have a cookie now?” Jamie eyed the container like a hawk; he shared Spencer’s love of oatmeal cookies, especially from your mom.

“Right! You brought your cookies, thank you so much, Mrs. L/N.”

“You’re not a kid anymore, honey, you can call me by my first name.”

“No, I absolutely cannot,” he laughed.

“Y/N?”

You turned around and saw the woman who hugged you while you cried when you thought your son was gone: JJ.

“Hi! Good to see you again!” You brought her in for a hug while Spencer continued to catch up with Jamie and your mom.

“You too! Jamie got so big!”

“Yeah, he’s starting 3rd grade soon!” You reached around to ruffle Jamie’s hair.

“When does he start?”

“A few weeks! We gotta go back to school shopping!”

“Ooh, that’s exciting! So you’re heading home soon?”

“Um…” You glanced at Spencer and your mom, who was pestering him about whether or not he had a girlfriend, “Actually, I just thought it would be best for us to stay close to my mom. Jamie likes it here, so we’re actually going to be moving here before school starts.”

“A new school! Are you excited, Jamie?”

“Yeah!”

Spencer, still a blushing mess thanks to your mother’s nosiness, sputtered out “Uh… Excited for what?”

“To move to D.C.!” You raised your hands in a little “Surprise!” motion.

“W-what?” He couldn’t stop himself from looking delighted even if he tried.

“We’re moving here to stay close to my mom.”

“She’s been such a good help,” she gestured to the cookies, half gone over the course of the conversation, “I’m not really ready to give her up just yet.”

“Spence, you should show her around!” JJ’s face had an unreadable look, but I guess that’s what profilers are for “Take her sightseeing. Jamie, have you been to the Washington Monument yet?”

“Nope! Doctor Spencer, can you take us?”

“Sure, little man, you want your mom and grandma to come with?”

“Yes!”

Spencer grinned at him, ruffling his curls before smiling at you. His eyes were scrunched into thin lines from his cheeks, but there was still something behind them. Something you couldn’t quite read. His smile softened slightly and you finally got a clear view of his hazel eyes. His lips parted like he was about to say something, but Jamie cut him off again.

“Ooh! Ooh! Can we go to the Smithsonian?”

“Oh, honey, you’re gonna wish you didn’t say that,” JJ joked.

“The kid knows everything, you’ll be there for hours,” a deep voice said behind you.

“Morgan!” You smiled and stretched your arms out to hug him.

“Good to see you again, Y/N.”

When you turned back to Spencer, his warm grin was gone, replaced by a glare directed at Morgan. Had something happened with them? Last you heard they were best friends. Maybe that’s what happened on the case? Maybe that’s why he was so upset on the phone? Whatever it was had to be bad because he barely spoke for the rest of the visit.

A few weeks later, after you were all moved into your new apartment and Jamie was settled into his new school, you called Spencer. He owed you a trip to the Washington Monument. On your little day trip, there was no such thing as silence. Even in the quiet museum, Spencer’s voice filled the air, spewing facts about the monument, the memorial, the exhibits, and everything in between. Jamie loved to learn, so he hung onto every word that he heard.

“Plans for the monument’s development actually started in 1783, before Washington was even elected president. D.C. wasn’t even the capital of the country yet. Washington was actually against the monument because he didn’t want to use public funds for it, but after his death, Congress wanted to build him a mausoleum--”

You didn’t mind the rants. You still loved to listen to him ramble. Even if you didn’t understand what he was talking about sometimes, the sound of his voice was just soothing, especially after the stress of moving across the country.

Jamie got tired after walking around all day after the tour of the National Museum of Natural History and the Washington Monument, so your mom offered to take him home. You planted a kiss to his forehead and ruffled his hair, hugging your mom goodbye as Spencer high fived him and waved as they went off in the direction of home.

“You know, you didn’t have to stay with me. If you wanna go home too, you can.”

“No. I wanna stay with you.”

A small smile crept across his lips, blush rising to his cheeks. He bit his lips and looked down at his feet as he started walking off to the next stop on his little tour.

“Where to now, Doc?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Come on, tell me, tell me!”

“No, ‘cuz then it’s not a surprise!”

“I’m aware of the definition of surprise, you don’t need to have an eidetic memory to know that.” You would just have to rely on your less refined profiling skills to figure out where you were going. You were on foot, so it couldn’t be too far.

“Why aren’t we taking a cab?”

“Because I wanna walk with you.”

Just hail a cab, it takes way less time than--

Oh.

You walked side by side for the remainder of the distance. He did most of the talking, telling you stories about the team. You took notice of the softness in his voice when he talked about Morgan. He wasn’t bitter anymore.

“--And then Garcia answered the phone.”

“Oh, god, what’d she say?”

“‘Talk dirty to me.’”

“No!”

“Yep!”

“She said that to your boss.”

“Morgan was mortified, you should have seen his face.”

You looked at him while he grinned at the memory. It was the most at peace you’d seen him in… well, a while.

“So… you guys are cool now?”

The peace was replaced with confusion, “What do you mean?”

Your pace faltered, but you kept walking, “Didn’t you guys…? Weren’t you fighting?”

“No? Why would you think that?”

You pursed your lips and furrowed your brows, “No reason.”

Why else would he have been mad at Morgan when I went to visit? You thought, There’s no other reason! Unless…

Oh--

“We’re here!” Spencer stopped in his tracks, looking up at a large white structure with tall windows and stone carvings decorating the walls. You turned and saw the sign out front that read: “Folger Shakespeare Library.”

“Spencer…” You gaped at the sign, a small, awe-filled smile tugging at your lips.

“I remembered how much you loved Shakespeare in school, I thought you’d get a kick out of this.”

“Spencer, this is… This is wonderful!”

“Good surprise?”

“Great surprise!”

You grabbed him by the arm and tugged him up the front steps as he digs through his pockets for his wallet. Once inside, he bought two tickets for the next show: Midsummer Night’s Dream. Your favorite. It didn’t start for another half hour, so he led you to the reading room.

The room was beautiful, to put it lightly. Three ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The furniture and accents were all done in a dark wood, shelves packed tightly with books. The setting sun shone through the breathtaking stained glass windows. An unlit fireplace rested against the wall. Spencer led you up to the second level, a balcony wrapping around the border of the room.

“Thank you for today,” you beamed, “I haven’t seen Jamie that happy since…”

“I know the feeling. I haven’t felt this okay since…” His gaze dropped to his feet, trying to swallow the words that came out too soon.

“Since what?”

“Since uh...” He glanced back up to your face, “Since Gideon left the team.”

Spencer never told you he left. Agent Gideon kept tabs on Jamie after his rescue. For the last three years, he got a card in the mail on Christmas and his birthday. He always checked in and asked how he was doing. When you went to visit Spencer at the BAU a few weeks ago, you wanted to say hi to Agent Gideon and thank him for his consideration, but you hadn’t seen him. You thought he was just taking a personal day, he worked too hard anyways from what Spencer told you.

“Spence, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

The words were like a spark that shocked your heart awake from a lovely sleep, and now it was upset to be so rudely awoken, “Of course I care! What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t wanna know the reason you’ve been so… off.”

“What do you mean ‘off?’”

“You don’t have to be a profiler to see you haven’t been yourself in… when did Gideon leave?”

He played with a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater and looked back down at his feet, the toe of his converse nudging at the emerald green carpet, “Couple of months ago.”

“You could have told me.”

“You’ve had your own stuff going on. It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t have to convince yourself that you aren’t having a hard time just because I am. You don’t always have to be the hero.”

“Neither do you, you know.”

“I really am fine.”

“Y/N, he was your dad, you’re allowed to be upset.”

“I am, okay?” You snapped, “I miss him like hell! He was always just one phone call away and now…” One hand carded through your hair as you inhaled deeply, placing your other hand on the banister beside you to steady yourself.

“I’m not going to pretend that our situations are the same because they aren’t, but I’ll tell you the same thing you told me when we were kids.” He placed his hand close to yours on the banister, your fingers almost touching. Almost. “It gets easier, not seeing him every day. But just ‘cuz he wasn’t around doesn’t mean you can’t feel bad.”

You force a smile, “Thanks, Spence.”

“Of course.” He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. The hug wasn’t particularly emotional. Neither one of you felt like you were about to cry, it just felt nice to be in each other's embrace.

“Show’s starting soon.” He muttered into your ear before pulling away, walking off towards the theater with you following close behind.

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @rottenearly @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae @t0xicllama @undeniablyyou @staplernpaper @theweirdobella @sammypotato67 @k-k0129 @helloniallslovelies

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg smut #mgg fanfiction #mgg imagine #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler smut #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #CM #cm fan fiction #cm imagine

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moons-and-stars-and-shit · 3 years

Note

May I please order a cake (written matchup for haikyuu)? I can be described as introverted and withdrawn because of events in life despite being outgoing and lively in the past. I randomly doze off and daydream a lot when I’m alone, with friends, and family. Because of my introverted personality I am often mistaken for cold a lot because of my “resting bitch face.” Once people get to know me I am just emotionally shy and empathetic. Even though I can respond and identify to the feeling of others, I have a hard time expressing my own and try not to express it often. When I’m with friends I am very upbeat, joyful, and hardworking by supporting my friends and family and putting their needs before my own and keeping them happy. I’m pretty much independent and a hard worker that spends too much caring for everyone but myself. My friends describe me as a good listener and easy to talk with because I Am open-minded and easygoing. I like to watch anime, read manga, play video games (final fantasy and kingdom hearts: my favorite series. also metal gear, solid, resident evil etc.), watch DC comic films and shows XD Besides that, my ultimate favorite hobbies include drawing fan arts of Kpop groups & anime, while listening to music (second ultimate favorite hobby). I also like to swim and drive around because of my love for adventures and imagination (also relaxation). I have a strong passion of disliking bugs (especially cockroaches). I especially love to eat sweets , in particular boba and macaroons. I have big brown eyes, long wavy brown hair, baby face (don’t look my age. I Am mistaken for looking 13-17), slender body. I am half-Chinese, el salvadoran, and French descendent. Sexuality: heterosexual Age: 24 gender: female.

Were gonna age our boy up for you here

We’ll say your both 24 here

🍰 for @otakupandasworld

Romantic Matchup

Kita Shinsuke

How yall met

Aran had actually introduced you two

You and Aran have been friends for a while

And he couldn't help but notice how similar you and his ex captain acted

So when kita decided to come into the city to visit

He thought it would be a good idea to introduce you two

You two didn't really talk to each other at first

And Aran was afraid that introducing you two was a mistake

However he was proven wrong when he came back from the bathroom to see Kita smiling

Wait

Kita was smiling?

Omg

Did he just laugh at something you said?

Turns out when Aran was gone you and kita had fallen into a conversation about his rice farm

You had told him that you really wanted to live out in the country because you feel like you needed to spend a year or two just focusing on yourself

He laughed saying he had felt the same way before he moved

He told you that he would be in the city for a few days if you ever wanted to hang out

And if you ever decided of moving to the country to give him a call

You two had hung out a few more times before he went back home

And you even stayed in touch when he went back

about a month later you had called him saying you were going to take a vacation in the country and asked if it would be alright if you stayed with him while you were there

He agreed and soon enough you were at his front door with your bags

Since you guys were so far out in the country it really allowed you both to get to know each other

And by the end of your stay you realized how much you liked living in the country

So you decided to move

Kita had kindly offered for you to stay with him until you could get a place of your own

Which you accepted

After about 3 months of living together kita had confessed that he's grown feelings for you

Lucky for him you felt the same way

Yeah lets just say you never ended up finding your own place...

What they love about you

He loves how you seem to always know hows hes feeling

Now Kita is a man of very few words

And even fewer expressions

He knows that this can cause problems when some people are trying to read his emotions

But somehow you always seem to know how he's feeling without telling you

He loves how caring you are

Even though you said you wanted to move to the country to focus on you

You still check in with all of your friends and family almost everyday

There have even been times where you take the long journey back to the city because someone needed you

He loves that you care so much

But he also wishes you would take some time to care for yourself too

He loves how hardworking/helpful you are

Your always helping kita around the farm whenever you can

And he can tell you put all of your effort into helping

And when your not helping on the farm

You can usually be found inside helping tidy up the house

Honestly kitas never had a helping hand around the farm before

So he really appreciates it whenever you offer to help

He loves your sense of adventure

Every once in awhile you'll drag him off of the farm

And just go driving around the countryside

Seeing What new places you can find

Ngl you've gotten lost many many times on these little road trips

But that just adds to the fun!

Favorite things to do together

Omg

This man SCREAMS domestic

Like hell find little joys in doing things like

Cooking dinner with you

Reading with you

Taking walks with you

Cleaning with you

The little things yk

But he does love it when you guys will take little getaways to the city

Hell admit running a farm can get exhausting

So he likes it when you two just pack your things and plan a weekend in the city

Going to shops

Exploring

Seeing old friends

He loves it all

Random Hc

He kills all the bugs inside the house

Thank god

And he doesn't even kill them

He just catches them and sets them free outside

Soft boi ❤️

He made you an art room inside the house

Every now and then hell just go in there and admire some of your works

Whenever you guys go to the market he makes sure to stock up on sweets for you

But he has to hide them so you don't eat them all

Sundays are your quote unquote relaxation days

It's basically where you tidy up the house while listening to music

Then spend the rest of the day enjoying eachothers company

Whether that be reading together

Watching movies together

Or playing video games together

He doesn't really care to play video games

But he likes to spend time with you so hell play them anyways

His nicknames for you include: Dear, My love, and Sweetness

Old couple vibes right here

Overall Aesthetic

Honeycore 🍯

Songs-

Falling for you (peachy and mxmtoon)

Put your head on my shoulder (paul anka)

Can't help falling in love with you (Elvis)

Mr.Sandman (The Chordettes)

#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu matchups #kita x y/n #kita headcanons #kita hcs #kita x reader #kita shinsuke #kita supremacy

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1266

Retaking this survey I took nearly exactly a year ago, which would be around the time of one of the lowest points in my life. A lot has changed and I’m *so much* happier these days, but it doesn’t hurt to revisit and acknowledge the emotions I went through then.

Are you afraid of lifts? 2020: I only feel afraid if I’m the only person riding the elevator. If I ever got locked inside I’d always feel a lot better if there’s at least one other person stuck with me. Otherwise I try not to be too bothered by lifts. 2021: Yeah, as much as possible I would still only get in if someone else was also planning to get in; elevators that are also visibly old and unmaintained tend to scare me away, too. But generally, riding the elevator isn’t a phobia of mine.

Who did you last talk to in person? Is that person attractive? 2020: That would be my mom and yes, I think she’s very attractive. Not in that way of course, but you know what I mean. She looks very young for her age and we always get mistaken as sisters. 2021: My dad. Sure, I think he looks okay.

Have you ever had a deep, personal conversation with a stranger? 2020: As much as possible I don’t like having deep conversations with someone I barely know, but sometimes I can’t escape the situation and I end up being a part of those talks. The nicest conversation I had was with a client during my first internship – he has his own company now, but over breakfast he told me about his struggles, his old unfulfilling 9-5 job, and gave me so much valuable life advice. He was so genuine and so nice and at that time I stopped minding the fact that he was a stranger and I’d most likely never encounter him again. 2021: Ooh I remember that. Yeah, he was lovely to talk to and I definitely have not encountered anyone with stories like his ever since. Anyway, I’ve grown to be a lot more extroverted over the past year so I certainly wouldn’t mind a conversation with a stranger, as long as they haven’t established themselves as a creep or pervert.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your own appearance? Why? 2020: Probably an 8. I don’t have a problem with my physical features for the most part, but I don’t like my front teeth and that my body hair is thicker and grows more quickly than average. Those are the two things that mess with my self-esteem the most, and the two factors that took out the missing two points. 2021: 9. I still have the same points for self-esteem issues; but I’ve embraced them slightly more over the last year.

Who was the last person to send you a message on Facebook? When was the last time you saw that person? 2020: Rita. I probably saw her sometime in early March. Maybe during a board meeting for our org before the lockdown was implemented. 2021: Angela. Sometime mid-July, I think? when we went to the BTS pop-up store together with Reena and Hans. I might see her again next week for her birthday. I have to see her reaction when she opens up the present I plan to get her.

If you decided, at this moment in time, that you were going to make a sandwich, what would you put on it? 2020: Assuming my hypothetical pantry is full, I would go for a southern-style chicken sandwich with chicken breast and spicy mayo. My stomach just rumbled, what have you doneeeeee 2021: Holy shit that sounds so fucking good right now. Can I just steal my own answer? Spicy crunchy chicken sandwiches are the shit.

Are you good at controlling your emotions, or do you tend to let them get the better of you? 2020: It’s 50/50 at best. Sometimes I let self-control win since it’s usually the most responsible choice and it’s also to avoid drama, but there are days where I recognize that self-care is just as important and so I allow myself a healthy release whether the release is one of sadness or resentment or anything else. Repressing my emotions and letting them bubble up over time isn’t healthy, either. 2021: I’m a lot better at it now. I think I have done a lot of growing and maturing and processing over the last year, and I don’t get into dramatic outbursts nor repress my feelings too much anymore. Whenever I feel deeply I let the emotions stay, but I also know when I need to reach out and seek help.

At this moment in time, what do you want the most? 2020: Normalcy. 2021: At this moment in time, I wish I could go back to when I took this survey and reassure the me then that everything was going to turn out absolutely fine. But right now I wish I also had sushi.

How many times have you cried over the person you love/like? 2020: Too many. 2021: I don’t love anyone in that sense.

How exactly are you feeling right now? Why do you feel the way you do? 2020: I haven’t been feeling anything in particular these days. To be honest, I’ve just been doing a lot of…floating around, existing, trying to make it to the end of the day unscathed. I believe I’m feeling this way because there’ve been a lot of major life changes happening and I simply wasn’t prepared to deal with all of them simultaneously. 2021: Jesus Christ that was brutal to read. How the fuck did I...manage? Anyway, right nooooow I feel quite content because a new episode of Run BTS came out and I really enjoyed it!! I also feel cozy because it’s actually quite cold tonight, so it’s making me feel sleepy faster than I would like lol. What’s the relationship status of the last person that put their arms around you? 2020: She’s been married for the last 23 years to my dad. 2021: He’s been married for the last 24 years to my mom.

Has the last person you held hands with, ever told you that they love you? 2020: Yeah. 2021: ^ Gross. But yeah to answer this question in 2021 – yes she has, in a platonic, sisterly way. We say it all the time.

Is there someone you used to hang out with all the time, and now you don’t anymore? If so, do you ever miss that person? Why do you think your relationship changed? 2020: Sure, Sofie’s the first person I thought of because we used to be the best of friends. We simply grew apart when college started, since she studied in Manila and I was all the way in another city. It would’ve been too difficult to keep up the friendship with both of us also starting to have different goals and priorities, as well as new friends. I miss her sometimes, but I’m not desperate to see her anytime soon. I’m sad to see our relationship fizzle out the way it did, but we’re both pretty happy and have been doing well and that’s enough for me. 2021: I stopped hanging out with Aya because she is an abusive piece of shit, and I obviously value my friendship with Jo far more than tolerating an abuser and keeping them around in my life. As for missing her, no, not really. I’ve always found it easy to cut people off and wipe out the positive sentiments I would use to have about a person.

Who was the last person you talked to, whose name started with ‘H’? What color are that person’s eyes? 2020: I don’t know a lot of H people so it was probably Hannah even though I haven’t talked to her in a while. Her eyes are dark brown/black, like nearly every Filipino. 2021: Hans. Same, dark brown/black.

Who was the last person you talked to, whose name started with ‘M’? How did you meet that person? 2020: OMG this was so tough to think about. The only person I can think of is Angela but that’s only because her first name is actually Maria. We met on the first day of 1st grade, back in 2005. I accidentally stabbed her with a newly-sharpened pencil and made her palm bleed, and for some insane reason a lifelong friendship was established that day. 2021: Macky. He’s a coworker but is a couple of positions above me. At first I took issue with my workplace not using honorifics, but when I learned it was a tactic to get everyone comfortable with one another, I soon got used to it.

The person you love/like is offered a job in another country. Would you let them go, or try and convince them to stay? 2020: Let them, because that was what we agreed on. 2021: No matter my feelings towards the situation, I would never interfere and ask them to stay.

Is there anyone you dislike so much, that you actually can’t stand to be around them? 2020: Back in college I hated being anywhere near a frat guy. They all had the same vibe, had the same fashion sense, used the same slang, had the same shitty work ethic so I always knew whenever one was nearby. 2021: One of my uncles, who I believe has COVID literally right now because he refused to get a vaccine. Can’t say I feel awful.

When was the last time you wanted to cry, but didn’t, because you didn’t want to show that you were upset? Why? 2020: I’ve been hiding my emotions and my tears from my family the whole month because we’re not a showy family when it comes to our feelings. We deal with our emotions privately, in our own bedrooms. 2021: Like two weeks ago when my teacher in my Korean classes shared a song recommendation with us and it turned out to be this really emotional, introspective song about dealing with life anxieties. It was beautifully sung and I nearly cried, and the only reason I didn’t was because I was in a virtual class full of strangers and I wasn’t about to start bawling my eyes out in such a situation lol.

If you found out that someone had been talking about you behind your back, would you confront them? 2020: I probably only would if they’ve always been super nice to me to my face but talking shit about me if I’m not around. It would be something I’d want to get into the bottom of. 2021: Depends on who the person is and if I think they’re worth my energy or not.

Which do you think is worse - saying something and then wishing you hadn’t, or not saying something and wishing you had? 2020: I hate nothing more than being too afraid to say something and then never having the space to say it again. That’s the type of regret that stays with me and keeps me up at night. 2021: I still go with the latter.

Do you know anyone who seems almost incapable of showing their emotions? 2020: I wouldn’t say I know anyone exactly like this, but I know of people who have built a great big wall around themselves and are super defensive when it comes to their emotions in a way that you’ll never know if they’re going through something. The first person I thought of was JM. 2021: My dad is extremely unexpressive. I guess I can say I kinda get it - he has to keep up his image as the father of the house and all - but I hope he has his own, healthy ways of processing his emotions, even if they have to be done in private.

What are 3 things that are guaranteed to make you smile, or put you in a good mood? 2020: Good Mythical Morning, seeing my orgmates, and driving. Driving seems to put me in a really good mood these days, though that’s likely because I haven’t had to do it as often as I used to. 2021: BTS, my dogs, and talking to Angela and Reena.

Do you look more like your mum or your dad? 2020: I’m a carbon copy of my mom, I’ve been told more times than I can count. 2021: Well yeah, that hasn’t changed.

When was the last time you saw your grandparents? 2020: I last saw my paternal grandparents in February; with my maternal grandma, two Thursdays ago. I have not seen my maternal grandpa since June or July 2015. 2021: Start of August for my maternal grandma; and I believe it was June when we most recently visited my dad’s parents. I visited my maternal grandpa at his columbarium slot during his birthday last year.

Have you ever felt really attracted to someone, but been deterred because you found out they didn’t have a very nice personality? 2020: No. If I get attracted to someone, that means I’ve already decided that they’re attractive on all fronts, including their attitudes and personality. 2021: ^ That is such a damn lie lmao. I remember getting attracted to this boy Lance from high school and thinking he was so cute and that I should probably try my chances with him...but I immediately got turned off when I noticed how he was slightly immature for his age and I stopped pursuing him immediately.

Have you ever hugged/kissed someone you’d only just met? 2020: Probably when I was out drinking, yes. 2021: ^ That’s true but that only goes for hugging.

Where is the person you would most like to see/be with? 2020: There is no such person. 2021: All my friends and best friends are at home. At least they should be at this hour, lmao.

When was the last time you bought a CD/DVD? Which one was it? 2020: The last CD I bought was Beyoncé’s self-titled album, but I can’t remember if I bought it in late 2013 or early 2014. 2021: ^ 2020-me had no idea :’) Anyway, the last DVD I placed an order for was Map of the Soul ON:E, though I’m not getting that until October. The last thing I was able to successfully receive was my Butter CD set.

Have you ever gone against someone’s advice and then regretted it? 2020: I don’t usually ask my friends for advice since I don’t want to possibly be the jerk that asks for advice but goes against them. I’ve always just gone with whatever I think is best for myself. 2021: I guess I’m still the same as I found myself agreeing to those two sentences.

Would you ever apologize for something that wasn’t your fault? 2020: Welcome to my life. 2021: Before, I used to. I won’t let shit like that pass now.

What’s been the best thing about your day so far? 2020: I’ve done a good share of self-care activities today…I actually got up in bed and have been taking surveys, I ate a lot for breakfast, I took a shower, and fixed myself a cup of coffee. The bar has been set very low since August obviously, but considering I’ve been skipping out on a great deal of activities that used to make me happy, I’m just glad I accomplished several today. It’s the little joys, guys. 2021: Getting good feedback from my boss on a deck I had to work on all day today. Also the new episode of Run BTS, aka my favorite thing about Tuesdays.

Has anyone ever cried in your arms before? 2020: I can only recall one person who’s done this. 2021: Sure.

Who was the last person you talked to, whose name started with ‘C’? Is that person older or younger than you? 2020: Tina, but her full name is Christina so she counts. I keep forgetting she’s a year older than me. 2021: Coco. Yeah, I believe so.

Do you keep a lot of things from your parents? 2020: Yes. They know my good side - my awards, achievements, job prospects, all the shiny stuff they can be proud of. They don’t need to know how mentally fucked their firstborn actually is, because it’s not like they’d know how to deal with all that weight. 2021: Yes.

Who was the last person you confided in? Do you regret it? 2020: Angela. Not at all. She’s been my rock for the last 15 years. 2021: Andi, and no. I trust them with my whole life and then some.

What was the last film you watched, that you hadn’t seen before? What kind of film was it? What did you think of it? 2020: I’m Thinking of Ending Things is a psychological thriller. It’s not for the faint of heart, especially those who’ve been feeling depressed and/or existential lately. It certainly didn’t make me feel good and I wish I could unwatch it, not because it was bad but because it was a bit too triggering. 2021: Be With You; it’s a Korean film that’s mostly romance but with a super super slight tinge of fantasy if you squint your eyes hard enough. I loved it a lot; both the leads are sooooooooo pretty to look at and the kid is a fantastic actor. I also cried a lot, but I do think the ending could’ve been executed better as it felt rushed.

Have you ever had an argument with the last person you hugged/kissed? 2020: Lots. 2021: Nothing more than extremely petty fights, the last of which we had approximately 12 years ago.

Using one word only, describe the day you’ve had so far. 2020: Lonely. 2021: Routine.

#survey #surveys

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

Green-eyed bad boy (2)

Summary: He’s trouble, you don’t care.

Pairing: AU!Dean x Reader, AU Sam, OFC’s

Warnings: angst, tension, flirty/cocky Dean, nakedness, talking about tattoos, voyeurism, virgin reader, innocent reader, language, smut, protected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), seducing, slight age gap (the reader is 24; Dean is 28)

Trouble Masterlist

Eight months, two weeks and four days ago…

Blinking a few times, you need to let his words sink in. Your heart beats faster and you are sure the way you are breathing is wrong.

“Did you listen at all, Y/N?” Your father, or rather stepfather barks. He only was nice to you as he loved your mother, or at least he pretended to do so.

“Yeah, Jason.” Sniffling you look away. “I heard your words. Every single word telling me you are going to marry a woman barely elder than me after my mom died not a year ago.” Spatting the words, you want to turn on your heels, but your stepfather grabs your arm harshly.

“You will be nice to her or you can leave my house. I think you should learn your place, Y/N. I only let you leave here and pay for your education as your mother asked me to do so. Don’t be useless for once and follow my orders…”

Stiffen you nod silently, not knowing where else to go. “Okay…”

“Good…now…” Handing you the keys to the house, garage and back yard your stepfather narrows his eyes. “I want you to let the gardener in the whole month. I will be away for at least a month, maybe two. Money is in my office, the brown envelope.”

“I don’t know how to…” His grip tightens and you whimper as your stepfather smirks at you. “You will learn how to live alone. You turn twenty-five, you are gone. Got it.”

“Yeah…mom really could pick them…” Mumbling the words you cry out as he backhands you.

“I promised her to make sure you can end your education, nothing else. Twenty-five was the limit. Now take the keys and follow the list lying next to the envelope. All bills are paid, you only must buy food. No parties. No boys. No friends.”

Finally letting go of you your stepfather glares at the gardener who dared to walk into the house.

You can see the pity on the tall man’s face seeing your split lip and the tears rolling down your cheeks. “Sir, I’m Sam Winchester, my brother Dean is outside with the needed tools. Can we begin?”

“The student… Law was it, right?” Changing is posture your father offers Sam his hand and you wonder. “He’s studying law at Stanford. Maybe you should’ve studied something useful too…”

—-

Two weeks later the tall gardener is gone and got replaced by his brother. He’s tall too, cocky and doesn’t talk much. All he does is cutting the lawn while playing music.

Today you try to find some peace while looking for a payable apartment and a job to apply to. No way you will keep on living with your stepfather and his new wife.

“Can you hand me the water, Sweetheart?” Smirking the gardener eyes you up and down, enjoying the way you look up at him with doe eyes. “I won’t bite.”

Feeling your cheeks heating you nod, not able to talk to a man like him.

“Here…” Handing the tall man a bottle of water and a half of your sandwich you bite your lower lips as he takes a huge bite, moaning at the taste.

“Such a nice girl, Sweetheart. I bet your daddy is proud of you…” His piercing green eyes search your face only to see it fall.

“Stepfather, and he’s not. I need to…” Pointing toward the newspaper and your iPad you want to continue your research.

“Damn, such a shame…” You want to say something, want to tell him your stepfather doesn’t even like you, but he strips his Henley off, followed by his undershirt to reveal his muscles and tattoos.

With shaking fingers, you grab the newspaper while you try so hard to not stare at the man opening the water bottle only to pour it over his sweaty chest. A tiny whimper escapes your lips as he flexed his arms.

“You should look at my brother’s girlfriends’ profile. She offers a room. It’s a nice apartment, safe and clean. Sammy would hang out there, but according to my brother you liked him.” Dean turns toward the mowing machine, showing you the tattoo on his back.

There’s a phoenix on his left shoulder, one of the wings is placed at this left upper arm, the other spread over the back. It’s a beautiful tattoo and you could get lost in studying the man’s body.

“Are you in a gang?” Glancing at the odd numbers underneath the phoenix you gasp at your boldness. Believing he will get mad you try to get away but he’s turning around, giving you a dirty grin.

“Sweetheart, I am member of a gang. I like tattoos, the girls like it too.”

Stepping closer, close enough to let his breath fan over your skin the green-eyed man darts his tongue out. His fingers reach out for you, slowly sliding over your right arm.

“Girls…” Looking up at him with glassy eyes you barely recognize you place one hand onto his chest. “Is that the reason you’ve got a heart tattoo on your chest?”

“No, Baby Girl. That’s just the first step…you know…” He’s closer again, almost brushing your forehead with his nose. “First step? I don’t think I understand what this means…Sir…”

“Dean, Sweetheart. Just call me Dean.” Smirking he wraps his hand around your upper arm, squeezing your flesh. “It means this tattoo is for a special girl, a girl I didn’t find so far. One day her name will join the heart…”

“OH…” Nodding eagerly you look at the heart at his chest again. “That’s romantic…”

“Nah, I’m not into romance or cuddling. I’m rather the take what you want for one night guy.” His nose brushes your forehead and you shiver as you can smell his cologne and musky scent.

“You mean sex only…I see.” Shrugging you take a step back. “I don’t like men doing such a thing. Pretending they like you only to use you…”

“Baby Girl, I do not use anyone. All girls are coming back…” The smirk turns into a dirty grin. “…for more…”

—-

Every day the same pattern. Instead of sitting in the garden you hide in your room, behind the curtains to watch Dean take care of the garden or repair the fence. Dreamily you bite your lips when he takes off his shirt again.

Once or twice he got a glimpse of you, knowing you are watching him. Dean is flexing his arms, stretching his back to show you all he has to offer but so far you didn’t give in to his advances.

“Dude, get dressed,” Sam mutters as he steps into the garden, handing Dean the phone he forgot at Jessica’s place. “She’s not one of your one-nighters, Dean. Y/N is a good girl, innocent…”

“Innocent…” Looking up to your room Dean licks his lips as you hide behind the curtains, panting heavily. “I shouldn’t…”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t, Dean. I know you love your love them and leave them attitude, even the bad-boy façade, but that girl…” Sighing Sam points toward your window. “She’s been through enough without you breaking her fragile heart. Just don’t…”

“Don’t…” Dean nods, not wanting to hurt you even more. He can see the longing in your eyes and the want, but he will be damned to hurt you.

Forming a plan in his mind he will try to scare you away.

—-

Walking back toward the house, two heavy bags in your arms you wonder why a black muscle car stands in front of your fence. Glancing at the car you gasp at the sight of Dean butt-naked on top of a girl.

He’s calling her dirty girl, while she screams underneath him. You want to look away, want to walk into the house but you can’t take your eyes off his body rocking into the woman.

To your shame he turns around, looking at you with those plump lips curved into a dark grin. Flustered and disappointed you rush toward the house, not wanting him to believe you are a peeping tom.

—-

For the next days, Sam took over his brother’s job, took care of your mother’s roses while you searched for an apartment and job.

“Got some water for me, Sweetheart?” Dean husks but you don’t turn around. Simply pointing toward the water, you remain silent, continuing looking at a scrapbook you made with your mother. “Are you mad at me for having fun in front of your house?”

“Why should I? The street, we don’t own it and you are a grown man able to have sex with whoever you want to.” Sniffling you look at the next picture.

“Are you crying, Y/N?” Feeling guilty Dean looks you all over, seeing the red and puffy eyes he believes it’s his fault. “Listen…I’m sorry…”

“Gosh, Dean. Do you believe everything is about you?” Scoffing you jump up, pressing the scrapbook against his chest.

“It’s my mom’s date of death. My stepfather promised to be here but he’s busy fucking a girl barely elder than me. You can have fun with this girl anytime. It’s not as if we are friends or anything…”

Turning on your heels you run toward the house, not looking back as Dean stands in the back yard, blinking a few times.

“Damnit…I want you…”

—-

Another week passed without Dean coming around. Oddly you miss his company, even if he only gave you a dirty grin or called you Sweetheart Dean made you feel comfortable around him.

Tonight, your friends insisted on dragging you into a bar. Here you are now, bored and not in the mood for their stupid jokes you look around to meet sparkling green eyes.

Your breathing quickens as he smirks at you, downing his drink in one go. Watching Dean for a while you sigh as a girl sits next to him, trying to get his attention but his eyes are focused on you and the way you look away now and then.

“I need to go, Lis. I don’t feel well and should sleep a bit.” Pecking your friend’s cheek, you say goodnight to call a cab outside of the bar but only a few heartbeats later you feel a presence behind you.

“It’s late, Y/N. You shouldn’t stand out here alone in the darkness.” Dean steps closer to wrap his jacket around your shoulders. “’s cold too, Sweetheart. Let me drive you home…”

“I can call a cab, Dean…” His hands move up and down your arms to warm you up as he chuckles behind you. “I didn’t ask for permission. Come to my car and I will drive you home, no talking back…”

“Okay…”

—-

Eyes glued to Dean as he drives toward your house you bite your lower lip. There’s a new tattoo at his right upper arm and you have the urge to shove his shirt away to reveal what it is.

“Just have a look, Sweetheart…” Shoving his shirt away Dean shows you it’s another phoenix.

“You like a phoenix?” Gently touching the colorful tattoo, you look at Dean. His features change for a moment. There’s a hint of sadness in these green orbs as he stops the car.

“It has a meaning, every tattoo…you know. The phoenix stands for resurrection, Baby. It means I was dead for a moment and came back to life.” Gasping you touch the tattoo again.

“You were dead?” Blinking you flinch as Dean places one large palm onto your thigh, gently caressing your skin.

“Car accident when I was eighteen. Sammy, me and my parents got hit by a truck. My parents…they died…” Gulping you feel his hand wander higher, squeezing you tightly. “I was in the hospital and my heart stopped beating for like half a minute. They had to reanimate me three times…”

“So…there will be three phoenixes one day?” Panting you spread your thighs as the hand wanders to your mound, cupping it shamelessly. “Dean…”

“I got another one…” Smirking Dean leans closer to brush his lips over your ear. “I’ll show it to you one day, Baby Girl. Now let me drive you home…”

“The numbers underneath the big phoenix…is that the date of death of your parents?” Dean shakes his head, brushing his fingers over your clit to ignite a spark you didn’t know exists.

“It’s the time my heart stopped beating. I will always remind myself I’m mortal, and destructible. I live my life the way I want to, Sweetheart. No rules. No complaints. No chains holding me down.”

—-

“Will you let me in to have a shower, Sweetheart. Sweat his running down me like a waterfall.” Dean takes his shirt off, licking his lower lip as you are only in a flimsy nightshirt.

“I was still asleep. It’s Sunday morning, Dean…” Yawning you walk toward the stairs to show Dean the way to the shower.

“You could join me, Y/N. I won’t bite…not if you don’t want me to…”

Stepping backward you shake your head, glancing at the tattoo at his chest once again. There are flames around the heart now, which seem to burn the heart.

“Changed it a bit, you know…” Stepping closer Dean cups your face. “I might have found someone burning me inside and outside…”

Plush lips press against yours and you gasp as his tongue swipes over your lips, forcing its way into your mouth.

“I want to taste you…” Purring the words Dean smirks as you blink a few times, not getting what he meant.

“I…uh-I got no clue what this means…” Laughing Dean presses his lips to your forehead. “You are a good girl after all…”

—-

While Dean has a shower, you prefer grabbing some clothes to get dressed. You can hear him sing under the spray, along with praises for the water pressure.

Giggling you get a pair of panties out of your drawer to get dressed but stop in your tracks, watching Dean walk into your room, only a towel slung around his waist.

“I thought you wanted me to taste you…” Dean’s eyes roam your body as you try to hide the panties in your hands.

“You won’t need those…” Taking the panties out of your hand Dean tosses the fabric over his shoulder. “Need you to lie on your bed and spread those pretty legs…”

“I…no…Dean…” Pressing your hands against his chest you shake your head. “I never…I can’t…”

“Shh…I want to taste you, not steal your innocence - not today at least.” A dirty promise in his words Dean pushes you onto the bed, making you yelp as he crawls onto the bed to spread your legs. “Son of a bitch, Baby Girl. Such a nice little cunt you have…”

Paralyzed you feel one finger slide over your folds, spreading your arousal around your clit. His thumb draws circles around your nub, and you gasp as he lowers his head to replace his thumb with his tongue.

“Dean! Oh…god…” Grasping for his hair you cry out as his wet tongue laps at your folds. You read about this in a book, but never thought you would ever experience someone will willingly go down on you.

“Fuck, you taste so good, Baby Girl. Can’t get enough.”

Your thighs lock around his head caging him as he wraps his lips around your clit, suckling hard enough to let your legs shake.

“I…it feels…please…” Fisting his hair harder you press his face further into your sex, grinding against him and Dean groans against you. “I tainted you…” Purring the words he slips two fingers into you, teasing your entrance.

“Dean,” Whimpering you arch your back. “Oh…don’t stop…please.”

Smirking against your he laps at your folds, as his digits slide deeper into your pussy.

“You want this? Right here…right now?” Eyes three shades darker Dean looks up at you, smirking as you nod eagerly.

“Please…”

“God, I’m such a selfish bastard…” His lips seal around your clit, sucking hard and you cry out his name. “Love it when you cum…”

You’re a quivering mess, boneless and shivering as Dean kneels between your legs to remove his towel.

“Dean…do you have something with you?” Nervously chewing at your lower lip, you point toward his cock and he laughs, nodding eagerly. “We will wrap it before I take you apart, Sweetheart…”

“Take me apart…” Eyes wide, fearful you watch Dean grab his wallet to fish a condom out. “I will not hurt you, Y/N. Let me make you feel good, Sweetheart. I know how to treat a girl right…”

“I know, you got some practice a few weeks ago after all.” Smirking Dean nods before he pounces on you, tugging at the shirt covering your body.

“Get this off … now.” Growling Dean kneels between your thighs, watching you strip your shirt off with a dark grin on his lips. “You’re fucking perfect, damn…” Cupping one tit he squeezes your tender flesh and you press it further into his hand.

“Dean…”

“I’ve got you, Y/N. Do you want this? I need to know you don’t do this only as I’m here between your thighs. We can stop anytime.” Dean tilts his head to wrap his lips around one nipple, causing you to arch your back. “So responsive…”

“I want this…with you. All guys I knew are…dunno…” Shrugging you look at Dean. “I want a man, not a boy…”

“I am a bad boy, Baby Girl but I’m going to make you feel so good…” Pushing you onto the pillow he kneads one breast, not taking his eyes off you as he rips the foliage of the condom open with his teeth.

—-

“Do you think Dean is into that girl? He spends more time at her stepfather’s house than he gets paid for.” Jess smirks as her boyfriend sighs heavily.

“He wanted to help me out, take over my shifts and I am afraid he’ll get into trouble or hurt Y/N. She’s not his usual girl…maybe we should intervene, Jess…” Meeting his girlfriend’s eyes Sam gives her his puppy dog eyes.

“Sam, he changed the tattoo…you know…” Pointing at Sam’s heart Jessica smiles. “There are flames now, Sam. You know what this means…”

Looking at his tattoo Sam smiles. Loving the way Jess slides her hand over his chest to place it onto his heart. “You mean he found the one?”

“I think he did, Sammy…”

—-

“Just relax, let me in, Y/N.” Settling between your legs Dean carefully slips the tip in to press into you. You are a panting mess, nervous as hell to embarrass yourself as Dean slowly inches into you.

“You’ve got freckles…” Giggling you slide your fingers over his chest, glancing at the little dots all over Dean’s skin.

“I got freckles, Baby Girl and …shit…oh…you’re so tight around me.” Bottoming out with a groan Dean press his lips against yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Your hands slide over his shoulder, gripping him tightly as you feel him slide back out.

After a few shallow thrusts, Dean sets pace taking your breath away.

Your legs wrapped tightly around his thighs you try to match his rhythm.

The spark reignites and you dig your nails into his shoulders, crying out his name to urge Dean on.

“Want you to cum for me, Sweetheart. Need to feel this tight pussy squeezing me…” Nodding you peck his lips, panting against him while the heat in your lower abdomen gets unbearable.

“Please…so close…” Your hands get pinned down as Dean press his knees into the mattress to slam his hips against yours. He pants, curses and moans between thrusts, looking like the bad boy he is with his smirk on those plush lips.

“Fuck, Sweetheart…” Body shaking, you whimper as you come undone. “Best fuck I ever had…”

You feel something warm fill the condom, not daring to say a word. “I think…” Kissing your neck Dean smiles against your skin. “I want to do this with you again…”

—-

Months later…

“You’ve got a surprise for me, Dean?” Sitting on his hood you look up at your boyfriend, your lover, your bad boy as he unbuttons his Henley.

“All for you, Sweetheart.” With shaking fingers, you touch his chest. The heart is even more on fire now, but that’s not what takes your breath away. It’s your name written under the heart.

“That’s my name…” Stammering you get up to kiss his chest. “My name…”

“You name, Baby Girl, only your name.” Smirking Dean cups your cheek. “Now, we need to decide where to put my name…”

“Hmmm…my chest?” Dean shakes his head, looking you all over before his eyes land on your lap. “I think I found my favorite spot…”

“No way!”

“Can I seduce you?” Wiggling his eyebrows Dean smirks as you pout at him. “How about my chest, right over my heart. Matching tattoos…”

“Bad boys do not wear matching tattoos…” Cursing Dean feels your hand slide over his chest as you look up at him with doe eyes.

“But you are my bad boy, Dean. My man can wear matching tattoos…”

“Fine…you win…” Grumbling Dean presses his lips to yours, snaking his tongue with yours.

“I’ll have a phoenix too, Dean. I want one on my shoulder as the moment I met you I got resurrected too…”

>> Part 3

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @sandlee44, @strayrosesbloom, @notyourtypicalrose, @thewinchesterco, @marvelfansworld, @hobby27, @gh0stgurl, @flamencodiva, @jay-and-dean, @voltage-my2dlove, @spnhollis, @chonisberonica, @wittysunflower, @supernaturalenchanted, @shikshinkwon, @yolobloggers, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space, @ilovefanfic86, @linki-locks11, @eggingamazinglove, @trumpettay, @fandom-imagines1, @thenamelesschibi, @waywardbaby, @straycuties9, @drakelover78, @stuckys-whore, @zxph-yr, @i-love-superhero, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @deepmuffinspymaker, @katpatrova17, @heyitscam99, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @neii3n, @exo-nova, @cocklesbelli, @echoesofpassion, @lauravic, @shatteredabby, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @sea040561, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @shadowkat-83, @alltimesamantha, @officialmarvelwhore, @meganywinchester, @miraclesoflove, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @kayla-2000, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @alexoloughlinlover32, @geekofmanyforms, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @atomicfandombomb, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @defenderrosetyler, @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming, @cassiopeia-barrow, @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters, @mscarter213, @jo-like-josette, @mep6811, @prettydeaneyes, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @negans-lucille-tblr, @deans-baby-momma, @thefaithfulwriter, @squirrelnotsam, @roonyxx, @neerness, @deansgirl-1968, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @20gayneen, @janicho88, @woodworthti666, @thevelvetseries, @dreaminemz, @akshi8278, @midnightsilver16830, @mrspeacem1nusone, @ria132love, @caligraphee, @the-witch-in-silence, @justanotherwinchester, @multisuperfandom, @jason-todd-squad, @jadesupernatural, @psychicforest, @luciathewinchestergirl, @magssteenkamp, @palefiregiver, @tranquility-or-chaos, @jxackles, @michellemxndes, @addictedtofictionalcharacters, @gabifernandessn

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tirednotflirting · 4 years

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does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?

baby’s first au whaaaaaat?

special thank you to @clumsyclifford for linking the prompt list i got this idea from! this was the prompt (it was a whole slew of celebrity AUs: “wait, you’re supposed to be DEAD and i just recognized you at the grocery store, turns out you just didn’t want to be a celebrity anymore” au. bella is also writing one from this list and it’s one of my most favorite lashton things i have ever read, highly recommend, 10/10, i could yell about hello, hello for ages omg

also here is the ao3 link if that’s your preferred way to read :)

There are few things that bring Luke as much joy as his Friday night (well, Saturday morning, really) grocery trips.

He had started working the night shift at the nurses’ desk at the children’s hospital about a year prior after graduating. He had found the job through the friend of a friend of a friend who was a nurse herself and mentioned the job needed filling fast. Luke had never really considered the idea of a night job but ultimately the work wasn’t all too bad. He made coffee every couple of hours (he made an effort to never let the pot empty which got him lots of smiles from the nurses) and every once in awhile Lina, the 6 year old cancer patient whose room was just around the corner from the brightly colored desk, would wander out to ask him to check for monsters under her bed and to be tucked back in. It was pretty simple (and heartwarming) work.

However, staying up through the night for 5 nights a week made it damn near impossible to be awake during the day on his weekends off. Luckily enough for Luke, he had friends like Michael who tended to play video games all night despite working through the day (he stopped questioning how he managed it a long time ago) and his favorite grocery store was a 24 hour location.

The first time Luke had come to do his shop at around 2am, he had felt a little spooked by the parking lot and eerie silence in between Top 40 songs that played over the intercom in the store. But he soon grew to find the general atmosphere pretty calming and he made friends with the nighttime stocker (a guy named Calum who also never saw himself doing nighttime work but here they were) and it became something he really looked forward to on his Saturday (very early) mornings.

He arrives at the store just a bit after 1am. He just finished ‘a late breakfast’ (he still always finds himself giggling at the concept of eating meals at opposite points in the day as everyone else despite the obvious logic to the schedule) and has a list tucked into the pocket of his sweats. It’s a little chilly out so he grabs the first sweater he sees on the backseat - a blue cardigan - since he knows they also keep the store pretty cool in the night to make sure everybody stays awake through their shift.

As he grabs one of the smaller carts as he heads into the store, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulls out his list first and drops it into the baby seat of the cart and then grabs his phone. Luke’s faced with the wild selfie Michael set for his profile picture and he rolls his eyes as clicks the icon to answer the call.

“What’s up, Mikey?” he answers as he starts pushing the cart in the direction of the produce section.

“You at the store yet?” Luke can hear the clicking of the buttons on the controller in Michael’s hands.

“Yeah, just got in. You need anything?”

Michael then rambles off a short list that Luke jots down into his notes app since he doesn’t have a pen or anything with him. He assures his friend he’ll come drop off the odd collection of snacks and things (“They have to be the dinosaur shaped ones. I swear Luke they do taste better.”) once he finished up his shop of real groceries.

Luke wanders around the produce, picking out what fruits and veggies he wants to have around for the week. He takes his time finding the apples without the bruises, bananas that will be the perfect amount of ripe by midweek, some leafy bunches for the salad he’s been assigned to bring for the breakroom potluck on Tuesday. He’s checking out some strawberries that he thinks might be nice to toss into the mix too when a human sized figure appears in the corner of his vision.

It’s a man around his size (in similar cozy clothes) facing away from him. He’s got hair the opposite color to Luke’s bleached blonde. His messy black curls are pulled back into a tiny bun that mirrors Luke’s own. The other man is broad and has a tattoo of a bird across the back of his neck, just barely visible above the collar of a faded blue sweatshirt. The tattoo is one that seems oddly familiar to Luke, as though it belongs to someone he knows. The man begins to wander off toward the bakery section of the store though and Luke shrugs off the recognition, figuring it might be someone he’s seen around a waiting room in the hospital at some point. He settles on some strawberries and starts pushing his cart in the direction of the deli and meats.

As he stares at the different packages of chicken and breakfast sausages, he can’t help but think back on the man he saw though. There was something achingly familiar about him, and more than just the tattoo. He can’t shake the thought for some reason and finds himself jumping in surprise when he feels his phone buzz once again in his pocket.

He doesn’t even have to look to the screen to know that it’s Michael calling again to add something to his list. In fact, he happens to even know the items that his friend failed to mention the first time he called. Luke presses the accept button and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Froot Loops and the character shaped fruit snacks?”

“The superhero ones, if they have them please!”

Luke continues around the store, grabbing all the bits from his list (and Michael’s 12 year old boy list) and eventually lands in the dairy section. He grabs the yogurt he’s been mixing granola into for breakfast lately and some butter for the cookies his mom sent him a recipe for. Only thing left in terms of food is cereal milk and coffee milk (2% and oat, respectively, of course). When he looks up from the list to make his way over to the fridges containing the plethora of milks, he is faced once again with the familiar stranger.

Except this time, as he catches just the briefest glimpse of the man’s face, of his hazel eyes and strong jawline, he realizes this isn’t a stranger. Very much not a stranger. It’s Ashton Irwin, the host of at least three of those reality dating shows he forces Michael to watch with him on the weekends since he can’t watch them when they air live on Monday and Tuesdays.

Or, well, he was the host of all of those shows until about two months ago.

Because Ashton Irwin has been dead for two months due to a freak heart attack while on vacation on some remote island.

Luke glances away from him for a moment in a panic. Has he completely lost it? Have the late nights finally gotten to him and he’s starting to actually see things that don’t exist? Was Calum right all along and the store really is haunted? (Though it's a little lost on him why a star TV host would want to haunt a grocery store. And not even a good one like that Whole Foods in Downtown.)

Then he realizes that perhaps he was just wrong. (Though now that he thinks about it, he very much remembers liking an Instagram picture of that tattoo on Ashton Irwin’s account a couple years back.) He’s far enough down the aisle from him that he can chance a look at the man without being caught. So, slowly, Luke turns again just slightly to look toward him.

It’s the hair that left him not immediately making the recognition. His hair has been dyed black, a stark contrast to his signature dark red but definitely a change that likely doesn’t draw as much attention. The sweatshirt he’s paired with black skinny jeans is pretty baggy and it’s a damn shame because Luke knows he has the arms of a god.

(Something Luke knows from the tabloid covers he glances at from time to time at the pharmacy and the summer version of the show that Ashton hosted, of course. He most definitely has never searched up his name + ‘biceps’ before. Never.)

But despite the obvious attempt to match the look and aesthetic of ‘2am grocery shopper’ he's still very unmistakably Ashton Irwin.

As Luke grapples with this new knowledge that apparently this person he thought was dead is not dead and also apparently goes to the same grocery as him, he fails to notice that Ashton has turned to face him and that he is still staring at him in shock.

Very quickly, Ashton’s face comes to mirror Luke’s expression and he’s rushing toward the blonde in a state of terror.

“Please don’t say anything,” he gasped in a hushed voice. The accent similar to his own that Luke has grown used to hearing on his TV sticks out some in his panicked words.

“How? I - uh? Are you,” Luke trips over every syllable that comes out of his mouth as he attempts to let his brain wrap around the situation. “Are you a ghost?”

The feared look of the black haired man actually fades some as he lets a quiet giggle escape (a very cute giggle, if Luke is being honest). “I’m, uh, not a ghost. No. Though I guess that does kind of accurately explain what I’m trying to be.”

Now Luke is even more confused. Based on the statement, he obviously wasn’t making up all of the tabloid stories he had seen about Ashton dying but something isn’t adding up to the present moment. “I don't-”

“Listen, if you’re going to go tell the press, can you at least give me like,” he glances down at his phone screen displaying the time. “2 hours to get back out to my friend’s place where I’ve been hiding?”

It’s now Luke’s turn to laugh. “You do realize if I go to some paparazzi or something and tell them I saw deceased Ashton Irwin wandering around my grocery store trying to decide between hazelnut and cashew milk they would just laugh in my face, right?”

The statement causes Ashton to look down at his hands to the milks in his hands. He sighs down at the cartons before tossing both of them in the cart. “Guess you’re not really wrong.”

“Is someone pulling some kind of long-winded, over the top prank on me right now? Am I being punk’d?” Luke asks, his head tilting some in a way that would normally have Michael making fun of him for the child-like behavior. “Because I know for a fact that I am not worth that much effort.”

The questions have Ashton smiling a bit again and Luke suddenly finds himself wanting to say increasingly dumb things so long as it’ll keep the hazel-eyed man smiling. “No, no. Not at all. I just,” his smile falters some, leaving his lips still turned up but his eyes drop some. “I started to get a little sick of the world and the world started getting a bit sick of me, I think.” Luke wonders if Ashton knew just how heavy his words feel.

He scoffs then, as if hearing Luke’s silent question. “Wow, sorry that was really dramatic,” Ashton shakes his head a bit before continuing. “Hi, I’m Ashton.”

Luke looks down to the tanned arm being stretched out toward him. He lifts a hand from his shopping cart and wraps it around Ashton’s. “I’m Luke.”

Ashton brightens again as he shakes his hand. “Well, Luke, you’re the first person other than my current landlord of sorts that I’ve come across since literally dying in the eyes of the media. So I guess I owe you an explanation? Since it seems like you’re familiar with that media viewpoint?”

Ashton moves to start pushing his cart in the direction of another area of the store but peers over his shoulder and gestures with his head to follow him. Luke quickly reaches into the fridge on his left to grab the rest of his dairy before catching up to him. “Well, you really don’t owe me anything. I don’t know you beyond what I see of you on my TV screen,” Luke wonders then if maybe he should have played it a bit cooler and not told the cute, presumed dead TV star that he watches his shows. “But I am a bit confused by whatever is going on and would like to hear anything you’re willing to share.”

“Cute and polite,” Ashton muses, avoiding Luke’s eye as he continues forward toward the packaged food aisles. “You’re already checking boxes, Luke.”

Some kind of intelligible noise falls from Luke’s lips as he feels a blush rush up to his cheeks because he’s flirting with him. Ashton only laughs and starts his story.

“Well Luke, you seem to be aware of what I did for a living up until about 2 months ago. I’ve been doing this job for like, about 5 years and before every new season of anything, there’s all these big network and programming meetings about production and filming and such. And every single time, I get hounded by our ratings people because I apparently don’t do enough to instigate and promote drama. Like my contract was getting threatened like three times a year because rather than trying to make peoples’ lives miserable, I just want to help them fall in love.

“And so at this particular meeting, about two and half months ago, just before the ‘accident’,” he punctuates the word with air quotations. “I got the boot. Ratings from the previous season were down by 3% and all of the uppers decided it was because of my congeniality and not the fact that the guy they chose for the season was a complete dick.

“So that night I have to host the red carpet stuff for an awards show. And I’m talking with all these glittery people who also do TV work and it suddenly hits me, harder than it ever has before, that every single person I’m speaking to would never even bother to smile in my direction if they didn’t know who I was. If I was just a plain old guy, the kind of guy I was back in school before I signed on to the shows, they probably wouldn’t pay me a single bit of kindness. So I decided, right then, as I was talking to some Grey’s Anatomy actor, that I wanted to get out.”

He turns into the chip aisle then, and Luke follows close behind. “You decided you wanted to step away from television and your first idea was to fake your own death?”

Ashton laughs as he reaches for a couple tubes of Pringles. “It was more than that,” he starts as he tosses the tubes into the cart. “I wanted to escape celebrity all together, not just the world of television. A friend from back home that I would trust with my life had this cabin kinda out in the middle of nowhere in this forest and he only ever uses it for like, two weeks in the summer and said I could camp out there until I find a way to get back to Australia undetected to live at the house I bought over there a few years ago. My manager helped with all the media stories and such. And two months later, here we are.”

“That’s insane,” Luke shakes his head as he speaks, reaching for his own tube of Pringles as he realizes it's been quite awhile since he got his hand stuck in a Pringle tube so why not?

“The journey is a bit wild, I will agree, Luke, but the life I’m living right now is much more enjoyable than faking it every damn day.”

Luke shakes his head (and ignores the fluttery feeling he keeps getting when Ashton says his name). “No, I mean it’s insane that I am somehow the first person that’s caught you.”

Ashton’s brows perk up at the statement. “Oh yeah no, I’m also pretty surprised by that. Figured I would have had to pay off a lot of people by now to keep them quiet.”

They’ve both pushed their carts up toward the self check out how and start scanning away at their items. Luke looks up halfway through his cart and catches Calum giving him a look from a little ways away. He’s got a suggestive look on his face. But thankfully it's one that reads much more as “ohhh Luke is talking to a boy” rather than “ohhh there’s a celebrity in my store”. Plus Luke knows Calum wouldn’t be the type to go rushing to media people to out the presence of dead celebrities in his grocery store at 2am so he chooses to subtly flip him off before reaching for the next item in his basket.

They’re both about done scanning and bagging up their groceries when Luke starts to realize he really...doesn’t want this little bit of time he’s spent with Ashton to end yet. And given his lack of normal human interaction during daylight hours as of recently, he’s a bit out of practice on the whole asking someone to extend a conversation beyond the grocery store aisles. He drops his bags back into his cart to roll back out to his car and as he watches Ashton perform the same action the words just sort of leap from his mouth. “Hey do you, uh, have anywhere to be right now?”

Ashton gently places a bag containing some produce into his cart before turning to Luke, a teasing smirk resting on his lips. “Luke, it’s 2am and I’m presumed dead to everyone but about 4 people,” he catches that Luke still looks somewhat nervous (something he would later reflect on to tell him just how damn cute it was) and continues. “So I’ve got just about all the time in the world.”

“Want to come to mine for lunch? We could make something and watch a show or keep chatting or something?” he asks, tentatively.

He watches as Ashton’s face shifts a bit, obviously confused by some part of what Luke’s just said. “Why would you ask if I’m free now if you were wanting to make lunch plans?”

Luke realizes his request requires some explanation for people that live during normal human hours. “Oh, because I have lunch at about 3am. Because I work nights. So right now feels like,” he pauses a moment, trying to decide and calculate what time this would have been for him before taking his job. “It feels like about 11am-ish for me right now. So close to lunch time.”

They’re out in the parking lot now and Ashton just stops for a moment beside Luke in the middle of the lot and looks up at him for a moment, a smile spreading across his face, his dimples, ones that Luke had grown used to seeing on his TV screens over the last few years, increasingly deepen. “Lunch sounds nice.”

Ashton follows Luke back to his apartment (and to the brief stop he makes at Michael’s where he ignores the comments about the man parked in the car behind his) and they park in the garage, carrying their groceries in their arms up to his unit. They each deposit their cold and frozen items into Luke’s fridge and he pours them each a glass of water as Ashton takes a seat at his kitchen counter. Luke sips from his glass as he watches Ashton glance around his kitchen and living room.

“I try to keep it cozy,” Luke explains as he reaches into a cabinet for a couple pots and pans. He migrates over to his sink to fill a pot with water to boil. “Needed it when I first started the working at night thing and I needed to find a way to force myself to sleep when the sun was up. Gonna make some pasta and chicken thing, that cool?”

Ashton smiles warmly from his place at the counter. “Sounds lovely. You mind if I use that?” he points to the opposite corner of the space where a black Keurig machine sits. “I don’t often do this whole living like normal in the night thing.”

Luke laughs at the comment on being nocturnal. “Go for it.”

He turns back to the pan of chicken, chopping it up and moving it around some before turning to a different burner and tossing in a few things to make a garlic sauce. He can make maybe two things that qualify as meals rather than just large portioned snacks so he’s opted for one of those since he so rarely has company.

“What do you do then that’s got you up all through the night?” Ashton asks as he opens the cabinet above the coffee machine pulling down a bright yellow mug. The color suits him, Luke thinks. “You work in tech support or something?”

“Thankfully very far off from that,” Luke starts with a giggle. “I’m absolute garbage with computers. I work the nurses’ desk for the recovery wing at one of the children’s hospitals. It’s a lot of checking and distributing charts, ordering things for the nurses, talking to parents when they want more logistical updates on their child’s care there. Sometimes I get to help entertain the kids who get to go out and about. Yesterday I let them request songs to play for awhile and then we had show and tell.”

“God, you’re like something out of some cheesy movie, huh?”

Luke turns to see Ashton smiling up at him, his arms crossed at his chest as he leans against the counter to face him, the coffee machine whirring to life behind him. Luke bites at his cheek to avoid an entirely too large smile to spread across his face though he knows he can’t help the blush painting it’s way across his nose and cheeks. “It’s a good job. Even worth the whole graveyard shift situation.”

Ashton grimaces at the end of Luke’s reply. “Night shoots used to kick my ass. There is nothing in the world more terrifying than slightly drunk women in hot pink crying over some complete asshole rejecting them after a cocktail party at 2am.”

“Was there anything about it that you liked, though?” Luke asks after he turns down the heat to let the sauce simmer for a bit. He watches Ashton stir some milk into his mug that he retrieved from the fridge.

“Of course,” Ashton answers quickly, in a tone that projects honesty rather than just being used to answering the question. “I got to travel to places I would have never made it to otherwise, meet people that I considered heroes growing up, provide for myself and my family. And for a while that’s why I just dealt with the bull shit. But I started to realize I was working my ass off for all of that good stuff I was getting. That I didn’t have to deal with things in exchange for those things that were mine because of my work.”

Luke isn’t quite sure what to respond to that. Because he’s right, the logic is obvious and sound on all of it. As he’s trying to formulate a response though, Ashton cuts in again. “Though I guess maybe that’s a pretty privileged logic I-”

“No, don’t,” Luke cuts him off. “You shouldn’t justify the unfair parts of your job like that. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your own values about the way people should be interacting with one another for the sake of drama for good TV ratings. You don’t owe anything to anyone who doesn’t actually give a shit about you as a person. I’ve known you for like two hours and it already just baffles me why someone wouldn’t want to know who you are behind the stage makeup and scripted lines.”

He watches as Ashton lifts the mug to his lips, pink cheeks peeking out from each side (he wonders if the change in color comes from the heat of the mug or the words he’s just said). He lowers the mug and his lips lift into a lazy smile. “See now I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually dead. Your kindness is angelic.”

Luke hasn’t a single clue how to respond to that so he gives the hazel-eyed man a small smile before returning to his saucepan. Ashton shifts the conversation then, asking Luke more about his job before telling him about the gardening he’s taken up since being stuck out in the middle of nowhere on his own. He shows Luke pictures of his herb garden and points out each one as he names it. As he starts putting food into bowls, Luke offhandedly mentions how he’s always wanted to grow lavender but tending to plants when you sleep through the sunshine makes gardening difficult. He drops a fork into a bowl and when he turns to hand it to Ashton, Luke watches as he hits the “Add to Cart” option on an Amazon page for lavender seeds. His heart does some kind of funny rhythm as butterflies burst in his chest. Their eyes meet as Ashton locks his phone and looks up to him.

“Pretend you didn’t see that, I want it to be a surprise,” Ashton whispers between the two of them, his right eye winking up at Luke as he accepts the bowl.

“So this is going to be happening again then?” Luke muses as he grabs his own bowl and walks toward the living room. Ashton follows behind him. “I should plan for future early morning lunches with a dead celebrity?”

“I know it comes with some amount of risk for both of us but,” Ashton looks down toward his feet, scratching at the back of his neck as he tries to come up with the right way to phrase things. Luke turns to face him as he hears the hesitation in his voice. “I really want to see you again. This has been nice. And not just because you’re the first person I’ve spoken to other than my mother in two months. I...want to know you, Luke.”

Luke smiles tiredly, feelings the earliness of the hour in a way that he hasn’t in quite some time. He watches as Ashton’s fingers fidget with a string hanging from the end of his sweatshirt, obviously nervous about what he’s just admitted to the man he’s only just really met, still. Luke reaches forward for his hand, tangling their fingers together as he squeezes his palm against Ashton’s. It feels nice to be close to someone like this. It’s something he didn’t realize he was missing out on while only really living in the night.

“I think you’re worth the risk, Ashton.”

He watches as Ashton looks down to their intertwined hands, Luke’s eyes following to the same place. His hands are pale from the lack of much sunlight other than what he gets at sunset when he goes out to take his walk after waking. Ashton’s is warm and tanned, likely from the sun he gets from days in his secret garden hideout. He barely knows this man, apart from the apparently highly curated version he’s seen on screen. He wants to know the Ashton that speaks like sunshine and loves love enough to lose his job over. He wants to know the steps he knows he’s skipping in his story right now that led to him faking his own death. So it’s no surprise that the next words have him smiling bright enough to light up the early morning they found each other in.

“I think we’re worth the risk, too.”

#lashton #lashton fic #i honestly have been staring at this for so long i can't even tell if i like it anymore #i had to end it in domestic fluff i am SORRY #i have no idea how to end fics otherwise #this is Such a funny au though #like there were def better ways to do it but it was fun #esp for never having given AU a shot before #wow we're rambling in the tags anyone surprised? anyone?#also almost made the title a line from when the day met the night by patd but decided against it #i picked this title on the 1d anniversary and i feel the need to honor My Men

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yayeetsonny · 4 years

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"I really have 3 moms huh?" Baby R/Christen, Kelly, and Becky

Prompt: "Can you do one with Kelley, Becky, Christen being protective of the reader (since she’s the youngest and also in both teams with them) and acting like her team mom’s?"

This is for @super-market-sun-flowers

I'm so sorry that I've taken forever to get this out I just wanted it to be good haha. hopefully you like it!

-Minor swearing

Y/N PRO//

I finally was able to head back to the locker room after a grueling game against the Portland Thorns. We won the game 2- 1. I was so proud of the team and I was proud of how I played but I was in some serious pain because Midge Purce had fouled me in the 85th minute and when she did she clipped my ankle. I got up and walked it off and was able to play the remainder of the game. I did my best to hide the pain I was in because my "moms" Becky, Kelly, and Christen would totally flip if they knew. See I'm the youngest player on the Utah Royals FC and USWNT, at age 17 and being 4'11 doesn't help much either. Those three in particular baby me a lot. It's very sweet but sometimes it's a little much.

As I was taking off my cleats I noticed my ankle was a little purple and swollen. Uh oh, Midge got me good.

"Shit." I mumbled, wincing when I went to move it.

"Oh my god. You need ice on that little one." Christen said startling me by her sudden appearance.

"H-hey Christen, it's really not a big deal. I'm okay."

"Then why are you grimacing and looking close to tears?"

"My allergies."

"You don't have any."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Yes I do."

"No you don't.- okay since we're going in circles I'll just call Becky and Kelly over and see what they want to do."

"Woah wait that's not necessary. Shouldn't I be able to decide what to do about my injury?."

"No. You never take care of yourself when you're hurt or sick and you're the most stubborn person I know."

"I'll make sure I don't exert myself I promise!"

"I don't believe you even a little bit." She said crossing her arms and giving me a look.

"Okay, okay whatever get the other two involved I don't care anymore." I said exasperated

"Kelly, Becky come over here for a sec please."

"Hey what's up?"

"What's up CP?"

"Our kid is hurt and she doesn't want to ice her ankle and thinks that she can take a care of herself."

"I'm 17 years old! I turn 18 in like 4 months!" I said indignantly

"Sush. Let us help you babe. You're hurt."

"I'm fine guys seriously. it's nothing. Look we have camp in a week and I really don't want to jeopardize my chances by making this a bigger deal that it is."

"It'll be an even bigger deal if you don't take care of it properly and over do it at camp. Please just cooperate and ice your ankle." Christen said softly yet sternly. She's always been softer and gentler with me than the others but she has her moments too. Kelly and Becky nodded their heads in agreement.

"Ugh okayyy." I said. They all laughed at my dramatics as Kelly ruffled my hair. Kelly and Christen then proceeded to help me to the bus while Becky carried our things. Once there they insisted on having me sit in the back with my feet on Becky's lap elevating my foot. All of them fussing over me and arguing over what was the right way to ice an ankle.

"Kelly I swear if you hurt her more jostling her foot like that I'll make you hurt." Christen threatened

"Chill Chris I got it." She said

"No you don't you're hurting her."

"Stop being so uptight."

"She's my kid."

"She's my kid too. She's our kid." Kelly said looking a little hurt.

"You're right, I'm sorry Kel."

"They finally were able to agree on the way my foot was wrapped with the ice and let me be. Given it was only after Becky threatened to not let either of them take care of me if they didn't get it together. The look she gave then would have made a grown ass man afraid.

3 hours later//

The girls definitely were pushing it with the whole babying thing, they insisted on carrying me everywhere after we got back to the apartment we shared.

"Chris you can put me down! I can walk." I said, and I know what you're thinking but she's definitely stronger than she looks. She was carrying me to the couch after I woke up from a nap that she insisted on me taking because according to her I was "grumpy"

"No bubs you could hurt yourself more just let me help you. I just want you to be safe."

"I know Chris and I am, with you I always will be." I said laying my head in the crook of her neck.

I know I said them babying me and acting like over protective moms 24/7 was a little much but sometimes it really does make me feel all warm inside. Kelly and Becky had gone out to get food for all of us and would be back any minute.

Suddenly the door burst open and Kelly came barreling in "we're home losers!!"

"Kelly chill, Chris could've dropped our kid." Becky said having noticed that we jumped when they entered.

"Oh, oops my bad."

"Sometimes I feel like Christen and I have 2 kids instead of 1." Becky said rolling her eyes in amusement.

"Hey! I resent that!" Kelly said

"Oh come on Kel, she's only joking."

"I still resent it." She mumbled.

"Okay well let's eat before the food gets cold." Becky said patting Kelly on the back as she continued to pout.

"What's for dinner?" I asked

"Sandwiches from the deli around the corner."

"Oh yes, Antonio's! That place has the best hot sandwiches!" I said eagerly as I attempted to wiggle free from Christen's grip.

"Okay Christen seriously let me down please."

"We just talked about this baby, I'll put you on the couch that's it."

"I'm not a baby!"

"You're acting like it."

"Am not!" I whined

"Point proven." She said giving me a knowing look.

"Listen we love you and you're our kid whether you love it or not. We all know you at least like it 9/10 when we baby you. We're always gonna want what's best for you. Please let us take care of you until we know for sure your ankle is better." Becky said

"Okay, I'm sorry guys I just still have trouble getting used to having people who care about me so much. Sometimes I get a little overwhelmed by all the love you guys give me 24/7. I really do appreciate it and love you guys so much." I said getting all sappy.

"Awww you love us!" Kelly said running over and crushing Christen and I in a hug.

"Yeah, yeah. Can we eat now please?" I said

"Oh right, almost forgot." Becky chuckled

1 week later//

Becky, Christen, Kelly and I arrived at camp and met the rest of the team in the meeting room. After going over the plan for the day we were released to do some team bonding.

"Hey Y/N I missed you!" I heard someone say before I was startled by Emily Sonnett jumping on my back. I was able to catch her legs at the last second so she didn't fall but I rolled my already sensitive ankle as I tried to regain my footing.

"Shit, shit, shit." I said as Emily realized something was wrong as she climbed off of me.

"Oh man I'm sorry Y/N. I didn't hurt you did I?" She said looking slightly scared. All of the players on the USWNT, even some of the newest ones knew who my "moms" were and knew that they'd do anything to protect me, even going as far as getting in people's faces sometimes.

"I just lost my footing and rolled my ankle a little no big." I said trying to shake it off.

"You sure? Do you want me to get Christen?" She asked knowing I was closest with her.

"No, no it's all good. Just try not to surprise me anymore." I said smiling at her softly as I walked away.

"Hey kid, you good?" Ashyln said as I walked passed her

"Yeah, yeah all good." I said as I tried to rush away. My ankle was doing much better but still sensitive and was just getting back to 100% I argued with myself on what to do because it really hurt and I was beginning to panic. I knew my moms would be upset if they knew I had hurt it again after we just got here and I- wait, I called them my moms. Huh I didn't even notice. Do I say it out loud too? Does it weird them out? Oh my god wait what if they think it's weird I mean I know they think I'm their "kid" but I've never called them moms out loud before. I began to get lost in thought and was really starting to panic about everything, so much so I didn't even realize I ran right into Christen.

"Ouch" I landed on my butt after running right into her back. She turned around from talking to Tobin and Julie.

"Woah, hey there bubs. You okay?"

"Y/N?"

"Huh? Oh yeah I'm good. Sorry I just wasn't paying attention to where I was going." I said refusing to make eye contact, my ankle was killing me

She crouched down so she could look at me and softly grabbed my chin tilting my head up so I'd look at her. "Hey, What's wrong."

"Nothing."

"I know you too well to know when you're lying."

"I'm not lying it's nothing, just drop it." I said frustrated

"Woah drop the attitude please."

"I'm sorry, just forget it please."

"Y/N..." she said in a warning tone along with giving me the look

"Okay fine, I may have twisted my ankle when Sonnett jumped on me when she came to say hi." I said hesitantly as I scooted away.

"Well there it is, gotta go bye!" I said attempting to get up and get away before she went into full mama Press mode.

"Uh uh. Don't move, Kelly! Becky!" Christen yelled across the room.

"Oh man." I said laying back and face palming

"Uh oh short stack you gotta help sonnett before Chris, Kelly and Becky kill her." Tobin said in amusement.

Julie just rolled her eyes and said "why am I friends with you guys?"

"Oh shut up, we work together and you love us." Tobin said

"She's right dude you can't get enough of us." I said smugly.

"Woah CP, what's going on?" Kelly said rushing over to us as she saw the look on Chris's face.

"Where's Becky?"

"She's coming over right now what's going on? Is everything okay?"

"No."

"Chris will you please relax I'm okay." I said trying to get her to settle down before she went off.

"No stay out of this." She said not looking at me.

"This is literally about me! Come on don't make this a big thing."

"Hush before I-" she didn't get to finish because Becky came rushing over much in the same way as Kelly.

"Woah hey everyone take a breath, let's calm down. Will someone please tell me what this is about?"

"Sonnett hurt our kid!"

"No she didn't! I rolled my ankle when she tried to jump on my back! It's not a big deal I'm fine!" I said aggravated.

"She shouldn't have done that!" Christen said angrily. Becky, Kelly, Julie and Tobin were just looking back and forth as we argued.

"I can take care of myself! Just please don't hurt sonnett it was an accident and she didn't mean to. She even apologized even though it wasn't necessary."

"What she did was reckless and she could have seriously hurt you and herself!"

"Oh my god will you stop being so dramatic?! It's. Not. A. Big. Deal." I was getting increasingly frustrated as the argument went on.

"Oh I'm sorry, I guess you don't care about your safety or anyone else's then?" Chris said raising her eyebrow daring me to say something else.

"I do I just... Chris will you please talk to me about this, without yelling?" I said softly, finally relenting.

"I just want to protect my baby." Chris mumbled helping me up and pulling me against her chest. She ran her hands through my hair and kissed me on the forehead.

"I know Christen, I'll always feel safe and be safe with you protecting me. I already told you that. It won't ever change."

"Get ice on your ankle please. Elevate it and make sure that if you need anything at all you tell Becky or Kel okay baby? I'll tell dawn about your ankle so she can decide what to do."

"Yes mama." I said taking myself and everyone around us by surprise.

"I- I mean, yes Chris. I'll get on that. Where are you going?"

"Well, Sonnett and I need to have a chat so I'll see you later okay?" She said trying to mask the surprised look on her face.

"Don't kill my best friend please."

"Don't worry I just want to make sure she knows not to be so reckless next time."

"Okay..."

"Julie Tobin watch out for Em please." I whispered as Kelly carried me away.

"You got it kid." They said in sync

"Come on babe let's get you that ice."

30 minutes later//

"How you feelin kid?" Alex said as she sat next to me on the couch after finishing a game of monopoly deal with Tobs.

"I'm fine I guess it just blows my ankle is back at square one."

"Aw yeah that sucks, but it's not too severe right? So you'll be able to play with us and everything in a few days."

"You're right I'm just glad this camp is a pretty long one. I'll have a real chance to still show what I can do to the coaching staff."

"You're so talented. You have nothing to prove babe."

"Thanks Al that means a lot."

"Of course love. I love you."

"I love you too."

"You wanna play a game of speed?"

"You're on, just know I'm really good."

"Okay whatever you say Alex." I said chuckling

"What you don't believe me?"

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

"Oh it's on."

"Let's do it."

In the end Alex absolutely creamed me. But the plus side was that it wasn't just me she creamed, Crystal, Mal, Rose, and Sam had all joined in and it was amazing watching them lose just as badly as I did.

"Hey where's Chris?" I said suddenly realizing I hadn't seen her or Emily in over half an hour.

"Don't you mean mama?" Sam said teasing me as everyone else laughed

I blushed as I mumbled "that was an accident. Just forget it."

"Aw come on it was cute!"

"Yeah how come you don't call me and Becky mom or mama?" Kelly said appearing out of nowhere.

"Ahh! Geez you guys gotta stop doing that to me!"

"Aw I'm sorry kid. My bad."

"Seriously where's Chris? She didn't kill Emily did she? I told Julie and Tobin to watch out for her. What if-"

"Woah kid chill out, she's coming over right now."

"Hi bubs. You okay?"

"Yeah ma-Chris, I'm good. You and Em good?" I said catching my slip up. Everyone smirked at me knowingly while Chris gave me a curious look.

"Yeah we're good, you sure you're good?"

"Yeah." I said my voice cracking as I said it... dammit.

"Okay... uh hey guys can you give Y/N and I a minute I wanna talk to her about something." Everyone nodded and got up and went elsewhere, Sam patted me on the shoulder as she left.

"What's up Chris?"

"Are you sure you're okay? You're acting a little weird."

"Well, it's just that I know I slipped up twice now calling you mama and the girls were teasing me earlier and I'm sorry it probably weirds you out. I didn't mean to i swear, I'm so sorry please don't be mad, please don't hurt me I-"

"Woah hey, hey. Shhh calm down you're okay bubs. No ones going to hurt you, we would never. What's that all about? Look at me." Chris said holding my face so I'll look at her.

"I'm sorry I just don't want to weird you guys out. And uh, it's nothing forget I said that." Shit I really let that slip out, well that's a backstory for another time.

"You know I'm not going to do that baby, we'll talk about that later okay? You're okay I promise, there's nothing weird about it. We already see you as our kid. We love you more than you'll ever know and I'd be honored if you decided to keep calling me mama. I'm sure Kel and Beck would ecstatic to be called mom too." She said while rubbing my cheeks soothingly

"Can we finish this conversation with Becky and Kelly?" I asked timidly

"Of course Y/N. They won't mind."

"Kel, Becky can you come sit with us for a minute?"

"Yeah coming!"

"Absolutely!" They both came to sit with us, Becky on the other side of me and Kelly sat across from me.

"What's up kid?"

"Uhhh..."

"Y/N is worried that calling us her moms in a not joking manner will weird us out."

"Wait you really want to call us moms, like for real?"

"Well yeah i see you all as my mommies and I love you so much and wouldn't be anywhere without your love and support."

"I'd be honored."

"Me too."

"Wow really?"

"Of course, we really do love you kid."

"I love you too." I said almost beginning to cry.

"I really have 3 moms huh?"

"Yeah, you do."

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

-THE END

#becky sauerbrunn #christen press #kelly o'hara #utah royals #uswnt #x reader #baby reader #alex morgan #crystal dunn #ashyln harris #sam mewis #rose lavelle #mal pugh #tobin heath #julie ertz #uswnt imagines

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figuringouthowtobehere · 3 years

Text

please dont reblog this

i dont have many ppl to talk to. so here i am, screaming into the void that is my tumblr again.

im mostly posting this because im alone. im really really fucking alone. and im hoping i might, idfk, make a solid, trustable connection from tumblr??? idfk. im alone in the world.

please dont reblog this

cw family issues, su*cidality, abandonment, abuse, childhood abuse, trauma, being alone in the world

i have no one to go to. my entire life since i was a baby all ive ever been able to do is survive at the skin of my teeth. and here i am, 20, breathing, trying so fucking hard to live and, idk if im succeeding. im doing my film shit which is cool but. im alone. im on my own. im alone in the world. i never had parents. like, obviously i had parents, but they were never parents, dyou know what i mean? like the people who genetically made me were around but they were abusing me or just being awful or refusing to listen to me about what i needed from them, from their parenthood.

i had a conversation with my mom yesterday (after two days of not being able to get a hold of her and really really needing to) and i was basically just like ‘why cant you be my mom’ and she was like ‘i am your mom’ and i was like ‘well, yeah, but youre not--you cant--you dont mother me. and you dont mother me in the ways i need you to.’ and she was like ‘what does that look like to you?’ and i said ‘someone who i can turn to, always, someone who has my back no matter what, someone who respects me and what i need and who listens to me and trusts my experience and, yeah, someone who i can turn to always’ and she said ‘i mean i can talk with you on the phone, i can tell you what i think you should do, i can try to give you advice from my experience, but as far as someone having your back 24/7 always, i cant do that’ and we ended up talking about how im an adult now - and she was talking about it in the sense of ‘youre a grown man now, you dont need your mom like that anymore’ - and im like ‘ya, i am basically a grown man but i still need my mom. i still need parents.’ and i think im gonna end up cutting contact with her again because its too hard to simultaneously grieve her not being the mom i need and also talk to her. if im not talking to her then i can deal with the idea that i dont have a mother, that i dont have parents and i probably never will.

ive never really had people. i never really had friends when i was a child and i dont really have friends now. maybe its cause im trans, maybe its cause im autistic, maybe its cause im mixed, i dont know, but generally people in the world dont like me or it takes them a long time to not hate me. it doesnt matter why right now the point is i never had people (like, a support system) and i dont now.

so yeah im pretty seriously thinking about killing myself (or, trying to anyway). i dont wanna die but ive spent my whole life trying to just. be a person. and find contentment. and everything in my life ends up going awful or causing me a lot of trouble at some point or another. ive come to expect it. whenever anything happens in my life im just like ‘when will this go wrong. how long will it take this time.’ and im alone. im just fucking on my own. and i know theres lots of people who are and have been more alone than i am/have been and i admire these people so fucking much like GO YOU!! YOUFUCKING DID IT!!! HELL YEAH! im so proud of u. for real, i have so much respect for all yall reading this who have made it through shit and made it through being alone in the world. you fucking got this. youre doing it. good fucking job!!!!! ✨ but then. idk ig it doesnt take away from this being incredibly fucking difficult for me. pretty much everything in my life was fucked from birth to age 18 and now over half of everything in my life is fucked. which is better, for sure, but its still. ive never had a chance. idk it just seems to me like it doesnt matter. i can try and try and do all the therapies and take all the psych meds a psychiatrist might give me and i can meditate all the time. it just seems like im Doomed. (WOW i sound dumb and childish) like ik logically this is probably incorrect, that im not actually just.. doomed but thats how it feels. whenever a good thing happens im just waiting for it to collapse on me. and usually it does in way or another. generally not because of anything ive done or havent done, it just ends up being shit.

and then. ive never had anyone. i dont have anyone. im alone in the world. like its not that im ignoring people i do have or choosing to omit them from my mind right now. i have a singular friend in the place where i live; my other two friends both live in the states. i live with someone who was a support for me until like last ... july or so, i think, who now makes me feel like shit (they arent being malicious its just a bunch of issues in our relationship. theres more on that in stuff ive posted before, if you feel like digging through my posts for a while go ahead and youll find more on that) and i have like 5% (out of 100%) trust for them. i have a therapist who i see once a week and ik shes invested in me, but thats her job. and i cant just call her whenever i want. i have several people for film stuff but theyre either just casual pals and then colleagues or just colleagues. i know a lot of people, who dont really show any investment in me as a person or their relationship with me and who i dont really click well with. and thats it.

and im so. im so in love with Film. all of it. (not The Film Industry obviously.) im so fucking in love with it. the only real concrete reason that i wont end up killing myself in the next like month or two is because Film. and i just. need. people. i need parents. or something. fuck.

i think part of this is probably the long-term ramifications of ongoing childhood sexual, physical, and psychological abuse and never really having good, consistent support cause id be surprised if that didnt fuck with my brain (and, yk, untreated severe childhood brain damage from tbis beginning at less than a year old). but it doesnt really matter does it. ive been through the shit time and again and its not like anyone has appeared and been like ‘hello, i see you never had parents, this is who i am, would you like to get to know each other for a while and maybe i could be your mom?’ cause thats literally what i need. i need parents. like i know theres a thing of ‘if you didnt have parents then you cant undo that damage’ but like idk. if someone has a bunch of unhealed broken bones that got broken years ago that are now causing them a lot of pain you wouldnt just be like ‘sorry, i see youre in trouble from this shit, but because it happened years ago theres nothing we can do’ cause there is??? i forget how i was gonna say this before but like. i didnt have parents. with the ‘parents’ i had its a scientific anomaly i lived past age three. i refuse to believe that having Good Parents and a Good Support System now would do nothing for me. cause it would.

im also facing impending homelessness due to a) welfare/disability programs not giving you enough to live off and b) not having a roommate/not having support systems/not having people. so that doesnt help.

i dont know how to do this. im on my own. im doing all i can. ive reached out to everyone i feel like i could reach out to and. im on my own.

help. i guess. idk what that means but im, once again, at an incredibly fucking AWFUL point in my life and i need help. i doubt anyone will be able to but. if youre able to then. idk. do something. ik that i sound desperate and pitiful and i literally dont care at all because i literally am desperate for support and i literally am at - ANOTHER - extremely low point in my life and its pitiful. im cringing at myself actually posting this because its like ‘you think youre actually find what you need via a tumblr post? where are you? cause thats not real life dude’ but i dont fucking have people to talk to (as you have already understood 🙃) and im tired and tired and tired and tired.

if you took the time to read this i thank you and i hope ur day is going vvv well

please dont reblog this!!

#childhood abuse tw #tw #tw alone in the world #suicide tw #please dont reblog this #no rb #homelessness tw

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paralume-game · 4 years

Note

How old are the RO and characters?

Azalea & Azazel

"We were born on the same day, Lea. 25 years ago. That's the same exact age," Azazel says, tired of his sister's ongoing quarrels.

She's never been one to surrender easily.

"Ah, but is that the full truth? I've been the very first to pierce our dear mother's hearing by ungodly screaming, and also the first to be spoiled by her embrace."

Azalea snakes an arm around his nape, brushing through his long strands of hair.

"You were the only one who ever screamed, I'm pretty sure."

He sighs, awaiting her affectionate torture.

She harshly grabs his face, squishing it between her palms, careful not to leave more scars than necessary with her sharp nails,

"My wonderful little brother, you are."

He reaches out for her too, laying his own nails over her skin.

They don't make for much of a weapon, always perfectly trimmed.

Defenseless, he has to endure her crude show of fondness.

In moments like these, he feels as if the minutes that they're apart have somehow turned into years.

Blaire & Nathan/Hanna

Blaire claps their hands, and dramatically falls back into the cushions littered all over the floor.

"Let's see. I've been stuck here 24 years and a lil bit. That's what, 291 months?"

They lean back. Annoying snapping of fingers fills the silence of the room.

"8870 days?" There's a pause, in which they roll over, now mumbling into the pillows.

"You know what? Do the math yourself. Can't believe I actually calculated this far. See what boredom leads you to?"

They're hit by a pillow, followed by a chuckle, and a warm voice.

"Am I so boring to you?"

Blaire groans, "No... just old."

They sit up, to point at their friends face, and to blow a raspberry on the back of their hand,

"Old fart you are."

Their friend laughs heartily at the childish display, "four years your senior. I'm afraid I'm turning stale, hm?"

"Yeah, I could be your child," the clapping and finger snapping now turns into rapid tapping on the wooden flooring.

"Do you want a cup of hot cocoa then, kid?"

Blaire scoffs, but nods their head regardless. "Such a loving parent you are to me. Say, can I get some pocket money?"

Willow

"Does counting years matter? 'Wisdom comes with age', well I beg to differ. I may be young, but I'm no fool.

I've seen my fair share of stupidity to be anything but that."

They look at you, judgingly, trying to pass down the message that- yes, you are older than them, but apparently still far from using your wit.

In their opinion, anyway.

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration, "Willow, please. Just answer the question."

They squint their eyes more, if that's even possible, "I'm 22."

Sugar

You squeal at the photographs of Sugar in your palms, from the times in which she was but a wee fluffball of a kitten.

Silly pictures of her crawling through paper bags, or daringly climbing visitor's legs.

You're especially fond of an image depicting her with a messy muzzle, food dripping from her whiskers, and her tongue licking over her maw.

A good meal, it seems.

She's not bothered by the mess she created. There's only joy to be seen.

"Can't believe this was already more than 3 years ago. She's grown so much." Your company's eyes tear up a bit,

"My little sugarcube."

She observes you thoroughly from her high vantage point.

A queen overlooking her kingdom, scrutinizing her valet.

Birds search for her vicinity, flock together in her presence.

Accompany her as she speaks.

Their quiet song follows her whisper, one that rustles through the fallen leaves around your feet. Just like the wind.

Cold. Harsh. Powerful.

Black eyes swell with sorrow,

as the breeze weeps, "Ancient."

#?? makes a come back!! :)#Azalea #Azazel #Blaire #Nathan #Hanna #Willow #Sugar #??

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saras-almanac · 4 years

Text

wip wednesday - 24 june 2020

So I realized I have like 10k written for this random dad!Robert AU i started ages ago where Noah is his secret son who shows up right after Aaron goes to prison. I just loved the idea of really having Robert focusing on so much and how it is absolutely the WORST time for this to happen, but here it is. And I made it Noah cause I love Noah and really liked his dynamic with Robert when he was basically taking care of Noah too. Though in this one, I have Zoe Tate as Noah’s mum cause her and Robert had a one night stand (or something) ages ago. There’s no love lost between them but she never really told Robert cause they weren’t together and she was find raising Noah on her own. Full disclosure, this might change as it’s only mentioned once in passing so far. But we’ll see.

Let me know if this is something anyone’s interested in! I might bump this up the list to work on. God, I have so many WIPs currently happening... oh well!

previous (sort of) snippet * other wip snippets * ask me anything!

♥️ ♥️ ♥️

Robert didn’t know what to say to that so he looked to Victoria for help.

“How did you know Robert was here?” Vic asked gently, leaning over the bar.

“I didn’t exactly,” Noah said. “I knew he’d been here and thought people had to remember him.”

“How would your mum know that?” Robert asked. There was absolutely no way he’d have talked about his past, or Emmerdale, with anyone from his past. The only person he’d talked about it with had been Chrissie and Lawrence found a way to use it against him in the end.

“Well, she doesn’t,” Noah said. “But I saw it in the paper.”

“Saw what in the paper?” Robert asked.

Noah looked up at him guiltily. “That you were shot.”

Robert felt himself freeze. He hadn’t allowed himself to think much about that time in his life because it had put him in an incredibly dark place.

“I didn’t think it made news anywhere but here,” Victoria said.

“I searched for you,” Noah said. “Mum only told me your name a few months ago, but then I have found that article and you looked like mum described you.”

“So you decided to come here and meet him?” Victoria asked, noticing that Robert had literally frozen.

Noah nodded. “I know that you didn’t want me at first, but I’m grown now, almost thirteen, and I thought that maybe now you’d want to get to know me since I’m not a baby and don’t need looking after.”

Robert’s throat burned as he took in Noah’s hopeful eyes. He hadn’t ever known about this kid, and if he’d had, Robert might have turned his back on him anyway. But how was he to turn him away now? Say to him, ‘No I don’t want anything to do with you?’ Especially if he did turn out to be Robert’s kid. And who better than Robert to understand the pain of parental neglect and rejection? No matter what, he wouldn’t do that to this kid.

“Yeah,” Robert said, his voice hoarse. “Course I want to get to know ya. But I will have to phone your mum and all.”

“But I can stay the night, right?” Noah asked. “I just, I have so much I want to know about you!”

Victoria, who was quickly becoming Robert’s saving grace throughout this conversation, jumped in. “Why don’t you two head back to mine and hang out? I’ll be home in a bit with dinner and we can figure out a game plan then, eh?”

Robert shared a look with Victoria before nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

Victoria squeezed his shoulder.

“If you see Liv, can you let her know I’m staying at yours?” Robert asked her. “I’ll text her later, but just in case you see her.”

“Sure,” Victoria said. “Now go on you two.”

Robert turned to the kid who was grinning up at him looking both too childlike like and too adult at the same time. It reminded him a bit of Liv. Both of them having to grow up too quickly but those moments when they’re allowed to just be a kid they look so much younger than they were.

“Let’s go, Noah,” Robert said. “You can tell me about your studies on our way.”

#i have such a soft spot for noah in my heart #i will include him as much as i can #and i really love this idea of noah just absolutely idolizing robert and angry that people don't see how great his dad is #robert sugden #noah dingle #cut to every one in the village constantly badmouthing robert and noah is just not having it anymore #and maybe some liv and noah jealousy where each of them sort of think of robert as their dad #and don't know what to do about the fact that they now have to share him?#i honestly don't know where this fic is going to go #robert and noah #my writing #emmerdale fic #wip wednesday #dad!robert au

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bunchofbooks · 4 years

Text

It’s Time for Kyrsten’s Opinion: Flowers in the Attic Review Edition

Flowers in the Attic is the first book in the Dollanganger series but VC Andrews. It follows the Dollanganger family; the four children, Chris, Cathy, Carrie, Cory and their mother, Corrine. They were a perfect family, until their father is suddenly killed in a car accident on the way home from work one evening. The four children must stay hidden in the attic of their estranged grandparent’s estate for the sake of inheritance. Their mother assures them this is only temporary - one night at most; but the days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. And the months turned into years with no glimmer of escape.

While this book was a really enjoyable read it was also a really heavy read. Under the cut I have posted a spoiler free review of the book, with my thoughts and opinions including content warnings.

Before I even start getting into the review I wanted to jump right into the content warning. A quick sidebar, I first heard about VC Andrews through the podcast, My Favorite Murder. The women who host it were talking about reading this book in middle school and high school, I thought that it can’t be too bad if they read it when they were that young. The woman who was ringing me up at the store when I bought it also said she read it when she was in middle school and said it was intense, but that she was a baby so it probably wasn’t that bad. I just want to know WHERE WERE THEIR PARENTS?!?! This book needs a lot of content warnings and I’m hoping that I cover all of them here even if I don’t get into all of them in the review. Content warning for: death of a parent, abuse / neglect, self - mutilation, incest (holy incest Batman), suicidal thoughts, victim blaming, and death of a child.

The estranged grandmother is a vile woman who is abusive and neglectful of her grandchildren. She dangles the threat over the children and Corrine that all she has to do is tell one of their maids that Corrine has 4 children from her marriage and they can kiss that inheritance goodbye. The neglect seems obvious, these kids are locked in an attic 24/7, in the dead of summer and on the coldest nights during the winter, but she also at points is angry with the children and refuses to bring them food because they broke one of her many rules. One part in particular that sticks out to me is when she tells Cathy she can either cut all of her hair off or they can go one week without food. When Cathy does not agree and the kids are able to ration what little food they have left for the entire week, she drugs Cathy and dumps tar in her hair so she must shave it off; and even after she cuts off her hair, the grandmother still does not bring the children food.The children become so hungry that Chris cuts his arm and forces his younger sisters and brother to drink his blood (insert my screaming here). The grandmother whips her adult daughter and then makes her show the marks left to her young children so they see what she is capable of. The grandmother attacks Chris and Cathy, whipping them both and then beating Cathy until she is unconscious with a hair brush.

However, the grandmother is not the only culprit here. Corrine, while she starts out as being loyal to her children, starts coming up to the attic less and less once she starts getting some money from her father, leaving them to fend for themselves. At one point she leaves for days, not telling her children where she is going or when she will be back. When she does come back she does not understand why her children are not excited she had been on a trip nor do they want to hear about it or see what she has brought back for them. Corrine gaslights her children, saying that they chose to come with her. They chose to make these sacrifices of staying in an attic all this time. They chose this life for themselves. As if they had a choice in the matter at all. Corrine then leaves them in the attic. . . again.

The children are told by Corrine that they must only stay in the attic for one night, until she can get back into the good graces of her estranged father so they can get the inheritance. The children ask what she did to make her family disowned her out the way they did and for a little bit, all Corrine will tell her kids is that she did something that her family did not approve of. Instantly I’m thinking, oh she stole money, she ran off and got married, she got pregnant before she was married. It takes place in the 1950’s so while that isn’t the end of the world today, I can see how an affluent family would want to keep that out of the public to save face. NOPE I WAS VERY WRONG! I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE WRONG ABOUT SOMETHING IN MY ENTIRE LIFE! The mother was disowned by her family because she was in a relationship with her father’s step brother - or her half uncle - but don’t worry no one else thinks it’s wrong (except for the grandmother and grandfather who are painted to be the villains in all of this) because he was so much younger than Corrine’s father and they were only half siblings. Have no fear though, because this is not the only instance of incest that we get to read about in Flowers in the Attic! Cathy - who narrates the story - and her older brother, Chris, begin a relationship. Which somehow goes from creepy to creepier. Cathy catches Chris spying on her when she is naked. Even more concerning was during the same scene, Cathy tells Chris to go away and he ignores her to keep staring at his sister. When Chris and Cathy are kissing in bed, Cathy tells Chris to stop and he says that what they are doing is not wrong, because they are only kissing and not having sex. . . However Chris your thinking is flawed because they do have sex, which will be brought up at my next therapy appointment and every therapy appointment from now until my dying day. While it is not a long scene, it is certainly graphic and more brother / sister sex scenes than I ever wanted to read. After they have sex, Chris is saying how he feels awful for what they did and Cathy says that she is to blame because she wears short clothes that don’t fit. If this were a youtube video this is the point I would insert the clip of someone screaming bitch what the fuck.

Flowers in the Attic, while definitely one of the most intense books I have ever read was enjoyable. There were aspects of it that I thought were amazing. VC Andrews was able to make it feel like I was in Foxworth Hall with the Dollanganger children in the attic and could make me feel claustrophobic even if I was reading outside or on a train. You really felt like time was ticking by and you were also waiting for the grandmother to catch you doing something wrong (not quite having sex with your brother, maybe something a little less. . . weird, like looking at your hair in the mirror, which is in fact a rule that the grandmother has because we don’t promote vanity. No sir, not at Foxworth Hall). VC Andrews would drop it on you like a bomb that all of this time had passed, the seasons bled into one another flawlessly. She would have one of the children say something, for instance, “sometimes eight months can feel like eight years”, and it hits you like a ton of bricks that it has been eight months since they first entered that attic, while also dropping that they should have been there only for one night.

Another thing that I loved was how much VC Andrews made me hate Corrine. Corrine Dollanganger is truly one of the most awful fictional parents I have read, but she isn’t instantly an awful person. At the beginning she is a wonderful mother who I genuinely believe would have done anything for her children. However, slowly VC Andrews would peel back these layers and show how having this money corrupted Corrine. Some of her finer moments include asking her 14 and 12 year old to provide a quality kindergarten education to her five year old twins so when they went back to school they wouldn’t be too far behind. Ma’am your children are literally living in an attic they’re going to have much bigger issues other than being behind in school. When the youngest son, Cory accidentally locks himself in a trunk, she is nowhere to be seen nor does she want to hear it, but she acts like mother of the year because she brings toys to the kids. However, the most infuriating thing about Corrine is how she causes so many fights among the children. Cathy tries to point out how messed up their situation is, but Chris does not want to hear about it and jumps to defend the mother who couldn't care less about him. Cathy at the age of twelve was left taking care of herself, including going through puberty, and her five year old brother and sister and Corrine would get all of the praise from the children when she came in to do the bare minimum! I would get so angry with this fictional woman!

The last fifty pages were absolutely wild. There were so many surprises twists that I did not see coming! Sometimes when books have all of these twists at the end I’m like, yeah okay let’s speed this along, but with Flowers in the Attic I could not get enough. I was caught off guard but it didn’t feel like it was phony in any way. I was sitting in the living room reading and I gasped and was freaking out about the ending.

My biggest complaint about the book would be the dialogue, specifically Chris. It was completely unrealistic for anyone to speak like that, even more so a seventeen year old boy. The children would talk in these elaborate metaphors and seem so worldly when Cathy says before that they lived a pretty sheltered life prior to the attic. Chris would say things to the twins like we shouldn’t quibble, as if they would know what that means?! Just say fight Christopher! At another part he is in a fight with his mother who had left them in an attic and says, “when you look and register do you see how healthy they have grown”. This is a direct quote that comes out of a child’s mouth. I understand that he was smart and read all of these books about medicine, but his dialogue specifically is what stuck out to me as unrealistic. Had VC Andrews ever met a 17 year old boy? Overall he just seemed like an unrealistic character. He kind of felt like he was there to be this convenient character that could fix almost every problem they came across. Cory and Carrie wanted a playground? Oh wow Chris comes in and saves the day because he knows exactly how to build one. . . in an attic. . . where they are living. Cathy is sick? Oh well Chris just read this book about childhood illnesses, they just have to make sure he gets plenty of fluids. Cory wants to keep this mouse that he found with its leg caught in a trap? That’s awesome because Chris can conveniently make a mouse sized splint for a little mouse leg.

Overall, I really did enjoy my time reading this book. I have some theories about the rest of the series and am interested to see how the rest plays out.

Would I recommend this book? Yes, but I would be sure to let someone know the content warnings. I would not recommend this book to someone in middle school or early high school. It was a lot.

Will I keep reading the series? Definitely!

#flowers in the attic #vc andrews #book reviews #adult books #books #dollanganger

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calpalirwin · 4 years

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Pretty Girl, Handsome Boy

A/N: So Mikey has felt a little underappreciated in my opinion, so I did something about it. Enjoy!

And away, and away we go!

~~~

“Ah, shit! Fucker…” you grumbled, setting your controller down in frustration as you waited to respawn.

“Whoa, you’re a chick?”

“Fuck!” you grumbled again, fiddling with your headset. You hated when people found out you were a girl in the gaming universe, but you had forgotten to mute your mic before playing.

The chat at the bottom of the game starting blowing up in the realization of a girl in their midst. The same shit you were used to- comments ranging from about how it made sense how much you sucked now to more lewd comments about other things you could suck.

“Fuck this,” you said, picking up your controller to take yourself out of the game and find a new match. You reached up to hit the switch on your mic to mute yourself.

A notification popped up in the corner of your screen to let you know someone by the tag Mikerowave_X had messaged you.

“The fuck?” you said aloud, opening the notification. Why did that tag sound familiar?

Sorry about those assholes, the message read.

Nah, it’s all good, you typed back, forgot I wasn’t muted.

They’re still assholes. You were playing just fine. Better than some of them, even.

Haha, thanks.

I’m Mike, btw.

I could tell. Clever name. What’s the X for?

It’s a Final Fantasy thing, lol.

Sick! I’m Y/N.

Nice to meet ya, Y/N.

Nice to meet you too, Mike.

What else do you play?

Oh, loads of stuff. I’m not too picky.

Cool. We should play sometime.

For sure. I use the same gamer tag on all my accounts so just hit me up, you typed, not quite sure why you were opening yourself up to play with someone you didn’t know, but figuring if push came to shove you could always block the dude. But something told you you wouldn’t need to; that this Mike character was a good guy.

You down to play something now or were you going offline for the day?

Nah, I was just switching matches. Can’t really play once people find out I’m a girl. Ruins it for me.

Is that why none of us can find the girl gamers on these things?

Just a gamer, Mike. A girl yeah. But a gamer just like you. We don’t call you guy gamers.

Shit, my bad. But you’re for real a girl?

Nah, I’m a middle aged dude with the voice of a prepubescent boy. Yes I’m a girl.

Just checking, damn… can’t be too careful these days.

Says the one who’s prob a middle aged dude himself…

Lol, I’m 24. Swear.

Prove it.

For real? Hang tight then.

A few moments later a picture of a boy with a hat covering his blonde hair, with the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen and beard stubble flashed on your screen, his phone with the date and time next to him for added proof. My mate took it so we could timestamp it for ya, the message below the picture said.

Damn… you typed, immediately recognizing him, all the pieces of the puzzle clicking together: his gamer tag, the use of X being a Final Fantasy reference. No fuckin way...

Haha, like what you see?

As far as nerds go, yeah, you’re kinda hot, you responded trying to keep your cool.

Lol, I got a song by that name. Well almost.

Yeah, I know.

Oh? You good?

I’m a little stunned, you admitted.

Lol why?

Cuz you’re Michael fuckin Clifford

It’s Gordon actually. But yeah, so?

Michael fuckin Clifford is messaging me… fuckin hell this is wild!

Shh, don’t blow my cover. I’m just a gamer, yeah?

Just a gamer, yeah, okay.

Can I get a pic of you? Shit, not like that… I just meant… ah fuck…

Lol, it’s fine. Gimme a sec. If Michael fuckin Clifford wanted a picture of you, you were gonna give him a picture. You tried to do a cute, goofy pose with your tongue poking out, making sure your TV screen with the date and time was visible in the background. Shit, that’s awful, you typed as you sent the picture to him.

Damn…

Haha, like what you see? you teased, using his words against him

Very much so, Y/N, very much so. How old are you, btw?

Same as you, 24.

Yeah?

What, wanna see my license for proof? I don’t lie, Mike.

Nah, you just hide that you’re a girl.

I don’t hide it. It’s visible on my profile. I just keep a gender neutral gamer tag. Keeps the assholes away.

Damn, defensive. I was joking Y/N.

Oh… so you serious about playing a game sometime?

Hell yeah, I’m serious. But, I actually gotta go. Famous duty calls.

Oh, alright. See you around then.

See ya, pretty girl.

Bye, handsome boy.

~~~

You played with Mike for the next few months every time he was on. You didn’t admit it in your messages to each other, but your heart sank when you would see he was offline and it did a little jump when he was. Unbeknownst to you, his heart was having the same reaction.

Hey, pretty girl? he typed about 4 months after the first message.

You heart leapt in your throat. You loved that he had deemed you “pretty girl” although again, you’d never admit it.

Yeah, handsome boy? you typed back, using his deemed nickname in response.

We’re getting back in town here in a few days. Was wondering if we could meet up in person?

Really?

Yeah. I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well these past few months. Why not?

I don’t want to disappoint you…

Disappoint me? Aw, pretty girl…

I’m a nerd, handsome boy. What you see is what you get. No surprises.

Pretty girl, that could never disappoint me.

You sighed. Alright, name the time and place and I’ll be there.

~~~

You walked into the arcade, double-checking that you were in the right place. “Pretty girl?” a scruffy voice sounded from behind you.

You turned and looked up at the blonde-haired, green-eyed boy who had his arms open for a hug. “Handsome boy,” you greeted, accepting his hug. You smiled into his chest as his arms enveloped you. Damn he felt good. “So, an arcade, huh?” you asked once you let go of each other.

“Figured it’d make a good first date,” he winked.

“Date?” You quirked an eyebrow at him, hands going to your hips. You weren’t dressed for a date. You had spent the better part of your morning deciding what to wear before opting for a simple black t-shirt and jeans. Every day attire, not first date attire.

“Well yeah? What did you think this was?”

“2 friends meeting up?”

“Pretty girl…” he sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look, I’m not good at these things okay? Ash is the…”

“Wordsmith,” you nodded. “I know. Ash is the wordsmith, Cal’s the squishy cheeks who hates love, Luke’s hungover Jesus, and you’re the gamer. I know.”

He let out a small chuckle, “Yeah. But, I like you, okay? I don’t call just anyone ‘pretty girl’. In fact, you’re the only one I call that.”

“Well, I like you too, Mike, but…”

“But what? Is this too real for you now?” His voice wasn’t angry, it was almost sad. Like he was scared he was losing you. Which he was. He had grown attached to you and he wanted more than a gaming friendship with you. And here he was, ruining it. So typical.

“A little?” you admitted, trying to find the words. “I mean, before… you were handsome boy and I was pretty girl. And… and that was enough for me. But now… you’re here. In front of me. And you’re him. You’re Michael fuckin Clifford…”

“It’s Gordon, actually,” he half-joked. “But, Y/N, that doesn’t change anything. I’m still handsome boy, and you’re still pretty girl. What you see is what you get, right? No surprises?”

“Yeah, but you’re you! Like actually you! And I’m… I’m me. And people like me don’t go on dates with people like you.”

He pursed his lips together, a wave of emotion coursing through him. He was angry, yes. But more than that, he was hurt. Hurt that he had hurt you by trying to get close to you. Hurt himself by making himself vulnerable. Maybe this is why Calum hated love so much. This shit hurt.

You looked up at him, as his face tried to process your words and his feelings towards you. You could see the pain etched in his face. “Mike,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “This has nothing to do with you, okay? I like you. A lot, if I’m being honest. But, I’m scared, okay? I’m not blind to your professional life and what that entails. It was easier before. I could ignore that you were you and just pretend you were just Mike, my friend in the gaming world. But this?” you gestured with your hands. “Well, my world’s spinning a little too fast.”

“I’m still him, Y/N…”

“You are. But you’re also not,” you said sadly, thinking that this is exactly why you weren’t supposed to meet your idols.

“God, that’s such bullshit… I’m me, Y/N!” he shouted suddenly, his voice ringing out around you. “I’m still the dude who messaged you to apologize for assholes who think that just because you’re a girl gives them a free pass to make a pass at you. I’m the same guy you’ve been talking to for months. I’m still the same guy in the picture when you knew who I really was. And I’m still here, in front of you, trying to ask the girl I like on a date.”

“Mike… I…” you sputtered. It was too real. It was too real that he was right here in front of you. The feelings you had for him were too real. This was just… too much too fast.

“Look me in the eye and tell me I’m not the same person you’ve gotten to know these last 4 months,” he challenged you.

“Mike, it’s not that simple, and you know it!” You were doing what you did best, closing yourself off so you couldn’t disappoint anyone.

“Bullshit, it isn’t! Look, if this is about you being scared of disappointing me I got news for ya: you don’t. I meant every word I’ve ever said to you.”

“Mike…” you said, your voice breaking. “I can’t be the girl you want me to be. I just can’t, okay?”

“I only ever wanted you to be you…”

“And I am!”

“And that’s enough for me! Can’t you see that? Haven’t I proved that to you?”

“It’s clearly not enough if you want to date me, Mike…”

“Pretty girl, I want to date you because you’re enough. It’s not easy for me to open up to people, okay? I’m not like Ash, I can’t just make myself vulnerable and pass it off as charm. I’m not like Cal who just passes his feelings off as indifference. I’m not a cute dork like Luke. I’m just nerdy ole me who likes nerdy ole you a hell of a lot. You have made these past few months away from home more bearable than I can put into words. Yes, I love my job. I love what I do, and wouldn’t trade it for anything. But it gets lonely. And it gets hard. But when I was with you, I felt at home. Like for once in my life there was someone to come home to. And that’s not a feeling I want to let go of. If this is too much, that’s fine. I get it. I have a tendency of coming on a little strong because I don’t know how to open up, so when I do it’s like an avalanche. If we need to go back to just being gaming friends, I guess I’ll find a way to be okay with that. But I like you, okay? You feel like home to me and I just need you to know that.”

“Mike… I don’t think that’s what it means to like someone…” you said, once he was done giving a voice to all the feelings you’d been having yourself. “Pretty sure that’s love.”

“Oh… well, fuck, maybe I love you then, pretty girl.”

“Maybe I love you too, handsome boy,” you said before reaching up to touch his cheek, needing to look at those green eyes of his.

“Maybe?” he said softly, as his gaze locked with yours, the tip of his tongue poking out to wet at his lips.

“Maybe,” you nodded, before your lips touched his.

#pretty girl handsome boy #michael clifford #michael blurb #fuck I'm swerving #vulnerable 5sos boys make me SOFT!!!#5sos #galcal irwin

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thelastspeecher · 4 years

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Recoil - Chapter 5: Buffer

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 AO3

Here it is! The final chapter of my de-aged Ford, FiddStan fic! Sorry it took me so long to post it, I was busy with thesis things and then I took a nice long break. But now, “Recoil” is officially finished! We find out how things are resolved and finally get some nice nice gay FiddStan moments.

(Again, this fic was inspired by “1 Step Forward, 20 Years Back” by @infriga)

Buffer (noun): a component that reduces the velocity of recoiling parts

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Stan continued to watch Ford sleep. He could feel tears beginning to prick the corners of his eyes. They’d had to put a nightlight in the room yesterday; Ford was too afraid to fall asleep alone without it. Luckily, Fiddleford knew where Ford had stored a large, glowing crystal, which even had the added effect of casting a “soothing aura”.

Whatever the hell that means. Stan looked over at the crystal in question, perched on the corner of Ford’s desk, filling the room with a faint blue glow. Sure doesn’t seem to soothe me. The door opened with a faint creak. Fiddleford poked his head in.

“Is he asleep?” Fiddleford whispered. Stan nodded and gestured for him to come in. Fiddleford quietly walked over to Ford’s bed. “Did he go down all right?”

“Better than last night. Or the night before.” Stan looked down at Ford again. “It feels like Ford’s been stuck as a toddler for months.” He rubbed his face. “It’s only been three days. It’s only been three days!”

“I know,” Fiddleford said calmly. He sat next to Stan. “When ya have a small child, it often seems like time moves slower than it does.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a small child! Or at least, I’m not supposed to! Not yet.” Stan could feel tears welling up again. “Ever since I was a teenager, I wanted to be a dad. But not- not this way.” Stan’s voice broke. “Not this way.”

“Hey.” Fiddleford rested a hand on Stan’s shoulder. Stan typically shrunk away from touches, but right now he sunk into the comfort. He’d gotten to know Fiddleford over the last few days. The southern man was annoyingly good at breaking down his barriers. But more importantly, Stan could feel himself coming apart at the seams. Fiddleford’s calming, grounded energy was the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces. “This’ll get resolved.” A troubled look passed over Fiddleford’s face. “Somehow. And when it does, well, you’ll get a chance to be a dad the right way.” Fiddleford squeezed Stan’s shoulder reassuringly. Stan let out a sigh.

“I dunno. I don’t know if I should be a dad. It’s not like I had anyone to show me how to do it right,” he muttered. He froze, realizing that he had accidentally said aloud what he was thinking.

Damn McGucket. Making me feel comfortable around him and shit. He expected Fiddleford to tsk and talk him down. To his surprise, Fiddleford let out a peal of laughter. Stan stared at him, not just shocked by Fiddleford’s reaction but also by the realization that he had never heard Fiddleford laugh before. Wryly chuckle, yes. But not full-throated laughter. Not the prettiest laugh I’ve ever heard. It was higher pitched than Stan would have expected and had a slightly grating tone. Doesn’t mean it’s not nice, though. Fiddleford’s merriment came through, worming its way into Stan’s sour mood, beginning to lift it like wind whisking away fog.

“Now, that’s hilarious.”

“…What?” Stan asked.

“The idea that ya wouldn’t be a good father. How can ya actually believe that? Ya just spent the last month or so provin’ ya have what it takes.”

“Yeah. With a kid that’s actually an adult,” Stan snorted. Fiddleford rolled his eyes.

“Honestly? Stanford at eight was way worse than Tate was at that age. Sure, it ain’t exactly the same sit’ation, and you’ve only handled an eight-year-old and a three-year-old, but there’s no chance you’d screw it up the way yer worried about it.” Stan opened his mouth, about to make some wisecrack about how he could find a way to screw up anything. Upon seeing Fiddleford’s sincere expression, though, he thought better of it and closed his mouth. Fiddleford smiled slightly. Stan’s heart fluttered. He cleared his throat roughly.

“So, how are things going with finding a cure?” Stan asked. Fiddleford’s smile vanished. “Oh.”

“I- I can’t make heads nor tails of any of this stuff,” Fiddleford said softly. He gripped the edge of the bed. “I’m startin’ to think it was a fluke, everything I did to figure out why Stanford got turned young. I can’t handle this on my own, I don’t think.” Fiddleford took a shuddering breath. “I keep runnin’ into wall after wall and-”

“Hey, you’re a genius,” Stan said, putting an arm around Fiddleford’s shoulders. “You can handle it. I-” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “Like you said, I’ve been able to take care of Ford so far. I can keep on doing that until-” Stan’s voice gave out.

“I can tell it’s startin’ to wear on ya. Stanford callin’ ya his father.”

“I mean, yeah. Can you blame me?” Stan laughed, but the sound had no humor in it. “He’s my twin brother and he thinks I’m his dad. It’s not exactly ideal, Fiddleford.”

“I know, but-” Fiddleford started. A low glow began to fill the room. Stan looked around the room, trying to figure out what was giving off light. His eyes landed on Ford.

“Shit!” Stan pulled the blanket off Ford, revealing that his entire, minute body was emitting a faint, yellow glow. “Fiddleford, what’s-”

“I don’t know Stanley, I-” The glow became brighter and brighter, almost burning Stan’s eyes, strong enough that he had to look away. As suddenly as the light had appeared, it vanished. Stan blinked away the afterimages and looked back at Ford.

“…Holy hell,” Stan breathed. Ford was still much younger than he should be, but he was also older than he had been a second ago. The now very tight pajamas were evidence of that. Stan looked over at Fiddleford, who was also staring at Ford in shock. “Is he…?”

“I don’t know.” Fiddleford ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t understand anything that’s happening.”

“Think we should wake him up?”

“Uh, no.” Fiddleford gently blocked Stan from reaching out to shake Ford. “I don’t understand anything that’s happening, but I do know that wakin’ a child as young as he is will only result in everyone cryin’. Let’s go wait in the kitchen until he wakes up on his own.”

“Yeah. That sounds good. I could use a drink,” Stan said decidedly. Fiddleford nodded.

“I think I could, too.”

-----

It felt like waking from a very deep sleep. Ford fought his way out of the solemn darkness and blankets, only to land on the floor. He sat up, taking in his surroundings.

To be fair, I did just wake from a very deep sleep. Ford got to his feet. Though I feel as though I’ve woken from more than just slumber. He looked down at himself, dreading what he would see. His mouth dropped open. I’ve grown. Either Fiddleford found a cure or a significant amount of time has passed. Ford swallowed. Time that I don’t remember. He took a breath. Calm down, Stanford. Find Stanley or Fiddleford. They can explain what has happened.

Thankfully, the door was ajar, saving Ford the indignity of having to struggle to reach the handle properly. He pushed the door open the rest of the way. Faint voices could be heard coming from somewhere else in the house, along with the distinctive twang and jangle of Fiddleford’s favorite country music station. Ford headed in the direction of the sounds. As he approached, he could distinguish individual words.

“Ya don’t strike me as the kind of feller who’d like John Denver,” Fiddleford’s voice said.

“Oh, is that the guy’s name?” Stan’s voice responded idly.

“Yes.”

“You’re right. It’s not my kinda music.”

“Then how do ya know it?” Fiddleford asked. Ford arrived in the entryway of the kitchen. From where he stood, he could now see that Stan and Fiddleford were doing dishes, Stan scrubbing them clean and handing them off to Fiddleford, who dried and put them away.

“It plays on country stations nonstop, genius.” Stan handed a washed plate to Fiddleford. “And when you’re driving through Midwestern Nowhere Hell, the only radio stations around play country 24/7.”

“Still, I’m surprised ya bothered to learn the words.”

“It’s catchy. Sue me,” Stan said dismissively, wiping his hands dry on the seat of his pants. “I wonder if Ford’s up yet. Think we should check on him?”

“That’s prob’ly the appropriate course of action,” Fiddleford replied. Ford cleared his throat. Stan and Fiddleford looked over. “Stanford, yer up!” Fiddleford said in surprise. He seemed relieved, while Stan’s expression was carefully guarded.

“How are you feeling?” Stan asked cautiously. Ford shrugged.

“All right, I suppose. I don’t feel particularly ill or weak.” Naked relief broke across Stan’s face. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” Stan looked at Fiddleford meaningfully. Fiddleford shrugged. “So, uh, quick question. What’s the last thing you remember and when did it happen?”

“Um.” Ford had to think for a second. “Fiddleford examining me in the lab on Thursday. Why?”

“You were right,” Stan said in a low voice to Fiddleford.

“Right about what?” Ford asked.

“That ya wouldn’t remember the last few days,” Fiddleford said. He put away the last clean and dried dish. “Ya seemed to be in some sort of fugue state, and folks don’t usually remember things from while they were in one of those.”

“Last few days?” Ford squeaked. Stan and Fiddleford nodded.

“It’s Monday,” Stan said. Ford’s jaw dropped open. “Honestly, I think it’s for the best you don’t remember everything that happened since Thursday.” Fiddleford rolled his eyes.

“Sure, now yer all fer forgettin’ things,” he said to Stan. Despite the sharpness of his voice, the words lacked any venom. Instead, the comment bore the cadence of a joke. Ford raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Did Fiddleford just joke about the memory erasing gun with Stan? Something has happened between the two of them.

“I’d ask what happened during those days that I can’t remember,” Ford said, “but I’ll trust your judgement that I wouldn’t like to know.”

“Maybe when you’re back to your old nerdy self,” Stan said. Ford shrugged.

“Maybe. When will that be, by the way? Fiddleford, I assume you discovered a cure?”

“Uh, no.”

“Pardon?”

“I couldn’t come up with one.” Fiddleford looked down at the counter, his jaw set in agitation. “No matter how I approached the issue, it was like bangin’ my head into a wall. But less fun.”

“Then why am I older?” Ford asked.

“No clue,” Stan said cheerfully. “You started glowing earlier, while you were asleep, and when you stopped glowing, you were older. Magic, amiright?”

“I…” Ford looked down at himself again. “I think I want to run some tests.”

“Absolutely,” Fiddleford said. “With yer help, we should be able to get some good results.”

“I also think I could use some new clothes,” Ford added.

“I’m on it,” Stan said, already exiting the kitchen. Fiddleford shook his head.

“If that boy steals ‘em, I swear…” he mumbled. Ford frowned thoughtfully at Fiddleford. Fiddleford noticed his expression. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…observing.”

“Observing what?” Fiddleford asked. Ford’s frown deepened.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

-----

On Tuesday, Fiddleford was in the lab, running test after test on Ford, who was more than happy to help Fiddleford when his memory failed him. Fiddleford felt like his mind was beginning to settle, but he didn’t want to jinx it, so he kept that hope to himself. He frowned at the latest printout of data.

“This is interestin’,” he remarked softly.

“What?” Ford asked, standing on his tiptoes to see over the table. He seemed to have settled back into a primarily adult mindset, but with a youthful energy that either drained or invigorated Fiddleford. Right now, it was doing the former. Fiddleford handed the printout to Ford with a soft, tired sigh. Ford’s brow wrinkled.

“Hmm. I’m still giving off magical energy.”

“Yep. Which I think is a good thing, since yer not to yer proper age yet. And we might not know exactly what happened with that plant, but fer sure it was what brought ya up to yer current age.”

“Yes,” Ford mumbled, distracted. He looked up at Fiddleford. “Could I see the results of the latest test on the plant?” Fiddleford glanced over at the plant. It was currently in a microwave that Fiddleford had repurposed ages ago for fine-detail magical analysis.

“It’s still goin’.”

“Ugh.” Ford sat down on the ground with a scowl. “How long has it been in there? It feels like forever.” Fiddleford checked his watch.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Really? That’s it?” Ford sighed. “My internal clock must be off.”

“Yer internal clock has always been off,” Fiddleford said idly, picking up a piece of paper that summarized what they had learned about the plant so far. He scanned it, despite knowing that he had gone over it a hundred times and would learn nothing new from reading it again.

Genus: Salvia. Species: Unknown. Emits a strong aura of magic that is closely affiliated with this dimension. Whether it is innately magical or magical due to exposure from a separate source is unknown.

“Yer also a kid,” Fiddleford continued, setting the paper down. “Kids have a dif’rent perception of time.”

“Hmph. I- what’s that sound?”

“What sound?” Fiddleford asked, looking at Ford. His eyes widened. Ford was beginning to emit a glow like he had the previous day, before he aged. “Uh…”

“It’s- it sounds like a school bell,” Ford said. He seemed not to have noticed he was glowing. Instead, he was staring off into the distance thoughtfully. “Like one that rang when Stanley and I were in elementary school.” Fiddleford grabbed a spare piece of paper and a pen. “Why are you writing that down?”

“Yer glowin’ again,” Fiddleford said, hurriedly scrawling what Ford had told him. Ford looked down at himself. He yelped.

“How did I not notice?”

“You were too caught up in the memory, I s’ppose,” Fiddleford said. He paused, gears beginning to turn in his head.

Stan said that Stanford was talkin’ ‘bout cinnamon donuts from their childhood, when Stanford first ate that plant. The bakery stopped carryin’ those donuts when they were about four. Fiddleford chewed on the end of the pen. Did the plant bring him to the age he was when he most remembered eatin’ those donuts? If so, does that mean that Stanford will be ‘bout the age of an elementary school student soon? Fiddleford whipped his head around to look at Ford. Ford didn’t seem perturbed by the glowing. Rather, he had one finger stuck inside his ear.

“I’m still hearing that ringing,” Ford said, frustrated. The glow grew brighter and brighter, until it was so strong that Fiddleford had to close his eyes. When he opened his eyes again and blinked away the afterimages, Ford was older. More precisely, he was eight again.

I was right. But what does it mean? Fiddleford pursed his lips. He shook his head. Never mind. Tackle what matters most right now.

“How are ya feelin’?” Fiddleford asked. Ford inspected himself carefully.

“Like an eight-year-old,” he said flatly. Fiddleford chuckled. Ford sighed. “Scan me again.”

“What’s the magic word?” Fiddleford said on instinct. Ford pouted.

“Please,” he mumbled. Fiddleford fought back a smile. He picked up the device that measured magical auras and scanned Ford. His eyebrows went up at the results.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Yer still givin’ off magic, so you’ll prob’ly keep growin’. Most likely in these growth spurts.” Fiddleford cracked a small grin at the pun. “But the amount of magic in yer aura is less than it was. I assume you’ll stop growin’ eventually.”

“Ideally, when I return to my appropriate age,” Ford said.

“Yes. That would be ideal,” Fiddleford agreed. There was a ding from the analyzing microwave. Ford jumped to his feet, filled to the brim with energy again.

“Results!” Ford raced over to the microwave. “F! We have more results to go over, more data to decipher!” Fiddleford rubbed his face tiredly.

“Yes, but you should prob’ly change yer clothes first.”

“No need! I can look over the printouts in tight clothes. I could probably look over them in no clothes. Clothing is immaterial in the grand scheme of things, Fiddleford.” Ford trotted over, carrying the papers of data spat out by the microwave. “We need to begin work immediately, before Stanley insists on making us stop for lunch.” Ford huffed impatiently. “Food isn’t nearly as important as science.” With a sigh, Fiddleford took the piece of paper Ford was handing him.

From what Stan’s told me, Stanford’s always been like this. How did their mother survive?

-----

By Thursday, Ford was sixteen and proud of it. He strutted into the kitchen and clapped his hands.

“I have some excellent news!” he announced in a booming voice. Stan turned a page in his newspaper without looking up.

“We get it, you’re glad your voice isn’t cracking every other word,” Stan said lazily. “You don’t have to shout all the time.” Ford flushed. After the last growth spurt, his voice had dropped to his regular baritone, something he’d been over the moon about. Fiddleford, who was wiping down the counters after breakfast, rolled his eyes.

“Ignore him, Stanford. What’s yer good news?” Fiddleford asked. Ford beamed.

“I’ve discovered why the portal malfunctioned,” he said. That got Stan’s attention. He set down his newspaper and looked at Ford.

“And?” Stan asked expectantly.

“It was sabotaged.”

“Sab-” Stan looked at Fiddleford, who seemed just as confused as him. “How the hell did someone sabotage it? Whatshisname, the demon, he wanted you to build it, and he seems like the only guy who could have access to your creepy basement. Except for you two nerds.” Stan frowned thoughtfully. “Is whatshisname a guy?”

“I don’t know the gender politics of demons from other dimensions,” Ford said dryly.

“Demons from other dimensions,” Fiddleford muttered darkly. The day before, Ford had finally come clean about Bill’s involvement with the portal, and Fiddleford was still bitter about the whole affair.

“Lord above, Stanford Pines, you got yourself into a deal with a demon? How could ya think it was a good idea? I know yer not as religious as I am, but that don’t mean you never heard someone say before that demons were bad!” Stan stifled a chuckle at the memory. Since Fiddleford was still using kid gloves with Ford, the whole scene had felt more like Ford was being scolded for staying up late, not summoning an interdimensional demon.

“But you are correct in that the portal had very limited access,” Ford continued.

“Then who sabotaged it?” Fiddleford asked. Ford raised an eyebrow.

“You did.”

“I-” Fiddleford put his hands on his hips. “I think I’d remember sabotagin’ somethin’ that I sunk far too much of my life into!”

“Would you?” Stan asked quietly. Fiddleford’s eyes widened.

“The sabotage was clearly your handiwork, Fiddleford,” Ford said. “I recognize it. No one else has your talent for rewiring.” Fiddleford sunk into a chair at the table, his expression blank. “My thought is that, after sabotaging the portal, you either erased your memory of the event or that memory was a casualty of a separate memory wiping session.”

“Those seem like the only two options,” Fiddleford said, his voice creaking. Stan watched Fiddleford in concern.

“You all right there?” Stan asked. Fiddleford nodded.

“Yeah, I just- gimme a mo’. I ain’t mad at myself, I’m just- it’s a bit disconcerting to have forgotten somethin’ as major as that.”

“I’m grateful you did it,” Ford said solemnly, sitting at the table as well. “If you hadn’t, who knows where I would have been?” A chill ran down Stan’s spine.

“You sure as hell wouldn’t be here,” Stan whispered. Ford nodded. Fiddleford took a shaking breath.

“Yes. I’m aware.” Fiddleford rubbed his face. “And I’m glad I did it, too. A tad bit peeved I don’t recall it, but glad.” He looked up. “And relieved to finally have an answer to that particular question.”

“Same here,” Stan said, picking up his newspaper again. Ford clasped his hands. Stan recognized the gesture. He set his newspaper back down. “What is it, Ford?”

“We need to prepare for when I return to my proper age.”

“Okay. Whattaya mean by that?”

“The house needs to be protected from Bill’s influence,” Ford said. Stan nodded.

“How do we do that?”

“The first step would be to create a barrier that will prevent him from entering. I’m already brainstorming ideas to settle things with Bill once and for all, but the barrier will ensure that I do not get possessed by him.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Fiddleford said. Ford sighed.

“Yes. But unfortunately, we’ll need unicorn hair.”

“Unicorns are real?” Stan asked. Fiddleford and Ford looked at him. “Yeah, yeah, weird magic shit is here all the time, I shouldn’t be surprised, whatever,” Stan mumbled. “Is it hard to get the hair or somethin’? You’re acting like it is.”

“Yes, it is very difficult,” Ford said with a small groan. “Difficult, nigh impossible. I have yet to peacefully obtain some.”

“Then it’s a good thing those unicorns like me,” Fiddleford said, upbeat. He winked at Stan and got up from the table. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“Of course unicorns would like you,” Stan muttered. Fiddleford whapped him over the head playfully. Stan grinned at him as he left the room. He turned his attention back to Ford. “What else do we need?” Ford steepled his fingers thoughtfully.

“What was that about?” Ford asked.

“Huh? Oh, nothing. What do else we need to protect the house from Bill?”

“Materials I’ve already collected,” Ford said, waving a hand. “Don’t concern yourself over it. Now, is something going on between you and F?”

“Me and Fidds?” Stan asked. Ford nodded. “What- what would make you think that?”

“Besides the fact that you’ve started calling him Fidds, instead of Fiddlesticks, Fiddlenerd, and Fiddledork?”

“I still call him that sometimes,” Stan mumbled.

“Yes, but in an endearing way. A playful way. Not in frustration.”

“Whatever.”

“The other piece of evidence was the way that you looked at him just now. Very reminiscent of how you used to look at Carla.” Stan could feel a warm flush beginning to spread across his face. “And as for the look Fiddleford gave you, well…” Ford tapped his chin. “I’ve only ever seen him make it once. At his wedding, when he lifted his wife’s veil.” Some small hope that Stan hadn’t realized was rising plummeted.

Right. He’s got a kid. Of course he’s married. Ford shook his head.

“Sorry. His ex-wife.”

“Ex?” Stan asked, that hope beginning to grow again.

“Yes. They got divorced shortly before F moved here to work for me full-time. As I understand it, they have split custody of Tate.” Ford frowned. “Did he not tell you he was divorced?”

“He didn’t tell me he had been married, period.”

“Ah.” Ford leaned back. “Well, that could be because he was rather ashamed he couldn’t get it to work out. His family’s Catholic, you know. Very anti-divorce.”

And probably anti-gay.

“Don’t get me wrong. They’re supportive of him. They weren’t happy he was getting a divorce, but they considered his happiness to be most important.” Ford was now watching Stan carefully. “It’s a very loving family. His younger brother came out as gay not that long ago.” Stan’s heart stopped. “There was an initial adjustment period, to be sure, but again, they wanted Fiddleford’s brother to be happy. And pretending to like women wasn’t making him happy. So they adjusted their mindsets.” Ford shrugged. “F claims it’s because of their ‘southern hospitality’ or some such thing.” He met Stan’s eyes. “Funny thing, though, F had no issues adjusting to his younger brother being gay. He took it far better than anyone else in his family did.”

“Why- why did you tell me that?” Stan croaked. Ford cocked his head.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ford grinned. “You should make a move.”

-----

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Stan didn’t bother looking up from his magazine, dreading the conversation that was about to happen.

“I take it F has left?”

“Yep,” Stan grunted. “Something about how he wasn’t ready to see you as an adult yet.”

“Ah. So he went to his house?”

“Nope. California. Said this whole thing made him realize how much he misses his son. He’ll be back in a coupla days.”

“I see.” Stan continued to stare resolutely at the pages open in front of him, rereading the same line over and over, not a single word sinking in. “Stanley.” Stan swallowed and looked up. Ford stood in the entryway of the living room, back to his proper age.

But now he’s not practically a ghost. Ford crossed over to the armchair Stan was sitting in and balanced himself precariously on the dinosaur skull next to the chair, crossing his legs to do so.

“I should start getting my things,” Stan said. He scowled at the break in his voice. “That’s what I said I’d do. I said I’d leave once you were back to normal.” He set aside his magazine, about to get up.

“You- you aren’t even somewhat curious about why the plant returned me to normal?” Ford asked.

“…Sure.” Stan settled back into the chair. “Go for it, Sixer. What was the deal with that?”

“Well…” Ford cleared his throat. “I’m still not certain as to where the plant originated from. Regardless of its origin, however, the immense radiation it gave off was unique to this dimension. I belong to this dimension-”

“Debatable,” Stan mumbled. Ford ignored him.

“-however, my cellular components were aligned with an alternate dimension. As a result, I was drawn towards a source of immense, familiar energy,” Ford continued. Stan chewed on his lip.

“Like a beacon.”

“Exactly.” Ford sighed and uncrossed his legs, planting his feet firmly on the floor. “Instinctually, I was driven to consume the plant, as an attempt to realign myself with this dimension.” Ford gestured to himself. “And obviously, it worked.”

“Why’d it take so long for you to get all the way back to normal, then?”

“I had to build up the energy to do so, which meant it could only happen in spurts. After all, I require energy for basic function.” Ford frowned. “I’m still uncertain as to why I began to experience sensations I associated with specific ages before each growth spurt, as well as why I regressed before I could…progress.”

“Fidds didn’t talk to you about his theory?” Stan asked, surprised. Ford looked at him. Stan looked away, avoiding eye contact.

“No, he didn’t. What was his theory?”

“We were talking about stuff he could do while he visited Tate, and shooting came up, since he apparently used to go hunting with his dad when he was a kid. And he was going on and on, explaining the mechanism behind why guns have a kickback. I got lost after about five words.” Stan grinned slightly at the memory.

I’m used to guys way smarter than me talking at me about things that go over my head. I kinda missed it.

“And then he stopped mid-sentence and just stared at me with his mouth wide open.” Stan shook his head. “And he said, ‘Stanford got younger ‘cause the plant had a recoil!’ I guess he got it into his mind that, in order to send you forward, it had to send you backwards, first.” Stan shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him to explain it in more science-y words when he gets back. That’s about all that I can explain.”

“Hmm.” Ford leaned back thoughtfully. “I most certainly will have to speak to him.” Ford cleared his throat. “Did- did you have any questions for me?”

“Not really. Just seems pretty damn lucky that this all just dropped into our laps,” Stan said dryly. Ford let out a soft sigh.

“My knee-jerk reaction is to be doubtful of this stroke of good fortune as well.”

“Yeah, your buddy Fiddlesticks isn’t as cynical as we are. He told me to be happy that things worked out so quickly and easily. I was like, ‘Quickly? Ford was a kid for over a month!’ And he said, ‘Could’ve been worse.’” Stan spoke Fiddleford’s words in a slow drawl, attempting to approximate his southern accent. Ford let out a small chuckle.

“Have you asked him out yet?” Ford asked quietly. Stan whipped his head around to glare at Ford, who seemed startled by the aggressive movement. “What?”

“Come on, Sixer, that’s just-” Stan huffed. “First off, stop trying to get involved in my love life. Second, don’t try to fucking set me up when you’re still pissed at me for something I did over ten years ago!” A moment passed.

“I’m…not sure that I am pissed anymore,” Ford said finally. Stan snorted.

“Really. That’d be the discovery of the century. Fuck the thing in the basement, you learned how to give up on a grudge.” Ford scowled. “See? You’re still pissed at me.”

“Maybe- maybe I am,” Ford said, straightening his posture and almost falling off the dinosaur skull. He held his arms out to steady himself. “But I’m not pissed enough to ruin your chance with Fiddleford. He’s- he’s a good man, he deserves someone who would treat him right. And under that playboy façade of yours, you’re a hopeless romantic. You always have been. You never got over your high school sweetheart.”

“Shut up,” Stan muttered. He rubbed his face. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t make a move, okay? He’s- he probably wouldn’t be into a guy, and-”

“That’s not true.”

“How the hell would you know?” Stan demanded. He groaned. “Holy Moses, don’t tell me you guys dated. I said that as a joke, I didn’t-”

“No, no!” Ford said quickly, holding up his hands. “Fiddleford and I never had romantic intentions with each other. My one true love is science, Stanley.”

“Yeah. That old chestnut.”

“Before we fixed some issues in our roommate agreement at Backupsmore, he had a tendency to bring sexual partners back to our dorm room. He didn’t seem to care about the gender of the person whatsoever.”

“…Fine, he’s into guys,” Stan said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ll be leaving soon.”

“You…you will?”

“Well, yeah. I told you I’d leave when you were back to normal, and you’re back to as normal as you get, so…” Stan gestured vaguely. Ford looked down at the ground. “You were all for kicking me out before all this happened and now you want me to stick around?”

“I-” Ford grimaced. “I’m not very good at articulating my emotions.”

“I’m in the same fucking boat, Poindexter.”

“I-” Ford took a deep breath. “I’m still pissed at you.”

“We went over that already. I know this.”

“Yes, well…just because I’m upset with you doesn’t mean I want you gone. Or that I want to have it out with you right now.” Ford spoke in a rush, each word tumbling out faster than the other. Stan merely watched him. “It’s- I’d forgotten what it was like to have you around.” Stan chortled.

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there. The last month? That was nothing like how it was when we were kids.”

“Yes, yes. Still.” Ford looked away. “I’ve…missed you, Stanley.” A silence fell. After what felt like an eternity, Stan spoke.

“I missed you too, Stanford.” Stan could feel his throat getting thick with emotion. He coughed to clear it. “It was…it was pretty great to not be mad at you for a while.”

“Yes,” Ford said softly. Stan then put a word to how it had felt for the last ten or so years during which he’d been homeless, furious at Ford, but also desperate, craving some scrap of an interaction with him.

It hurt. It hurt to be so angry at him, but also know he used to be the one person I could count on.

“I don’t know if I know how to be a good brother,” Ford said.

“Me neither. Obviously, I know how to be a damn good dad, but-” Ford laughed and playfully punched Stan’s shoulder. Stan rubbed the spot, chuckling. “Do you think we can get through this? Through all the bullshit we dealt with the last ten years?”

“It would take work. But I think it’s feasible,” Ford said carefully. He eyed Stan. “Of course, you’d need to stick around for that…”

“Yeah.”

“You know, I could really use someone to act as muscle for my research.” Ford feigned a casual tone. “There are a lot of dangerous things in the woods around here.” He raised an eyebrow at Stan. Stan’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Are you- are you-” he croaked.

“It might be a bit awkward at first, but if you’re willing to work for me, I’d love to have you join my research team.”

“As long as you don’t make me do any team-building exercises, I’m in,” Stan said. Ford beamed.

“Excellent.” Ford leaned closer. “Now, when are you going to ask Fiddleford out?”

“Wh- son of a bitch, Sixer, why do you keep pushing this?”

“Because the only reason you asked out Carla McCorkle was because I dared you to. You need a push when it comes to forming a meaningful relationship.” Ford nudged Stan. “Here’s your push. Go for it.”

“I think you’re still stuck in kid mode. I’ve heard kids of single parents trying to get them to go on dates.”

“Please. I may have been a child, but I never once thought you were my father,” Ford scoffed. Stan looked away guiltily. “…Stan?”

“…I should probably tell you about those coupla days you can’t remember.”

“Oh-” Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sweet Moses. Maybe we won’t be able to work past this.”

“Nah,” Stan said confidently. “Like you said. It’ll take some work and a whole lotta time, but we’ve got this.” Ford managed a small smile. “What are you gonna do for dinner?”

“What am I going to do for dinner?”

“I cooked for you for a month. You owe me a lotta meals.”

“…I don’t know how to cook.”

“Yeah.” Stan got up and stretched. “Let’s order some greasy, shitty pizza, then. It’s been a while since I’ve clogged my arteries.” Ford shook his head, hiding a smile.

-----

Stan didn’t bother to turn around when he heard the back door open. He took another drag of his cigarette, relishing the ability to indulge in the vice in the open.

Couldn’t smoke around Ford when he was a kid. Someone coughed. Stan looked over. It was Fiddleford.

“Oh, hey Fidds,” Stan said. Fiddleford walked over and sat next to him, his gangly legs dangling over the edge of the porch. Stan offered him his cigarette. Fiddleford looked at it longingly before shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t. I don’t want Tate to smell it on me.”

“Tate’s in California. Go ahead, have a puff.”

“Tate’s actually not in California right now,” Fiddleford said slowly. Stan raised an eyebrow. “Emma-May and I worked out an agreement.” Fiddleford sighed heavily. “Took some convincin’. My absence didn’t exactly make her heart grow fonder. But so long as Tate calls every night, she’s willin’ to let him stay with me fer a week.”

“That’s it?”

“It’s a trial run of sorts. She ain’t willin’ to let Tate be in my care any longer than that yet. Once I’ve earned her trust, we’ll revisit the custody arrangement.”

“So if Tate’s in Gravity Falls, who’s watching him?” Stan asked. Fiddleford quirked a half-smile.

“Stanford.”

“Really?”

“He was a boy himself recent enough. Figured it might have helped him figure out how children work.” There was a clatter and a shout from inside. “Though I’m second-guessin’ that right now.”

“Eh, Ford’ll be fine,” Stan said, waving a hand. “I was telling him yesterday about all the tips I used on him while he was a kid. He shoulda remembered some of ‘em.” Fiddleford chuckled.

“He should, but sometimes, things go in one ear and out the other with him.”

“Heh. Yeah.” Stan finished off his cigarette. He ground the butt underneath his heel as he exhaled the last puff of smoke.

“I’m surprised yer still here,” Fiddleford said abruptly. Stan looked at him. “Didn’t you say you’d leave once Stanford was back to normal?”

“Yeah. I did. But that plan changed.” Stan winked at Fiddleford. “I’m gonna stick around to help Ford with his research. He said he needed some muscle.”

“…Oh.” The sound was small, disappointed. Fiddleford cleared his throat hurriedly. “I was just…I mean…” Fiddleford looked at the forest, avoiding eye contact with Stan. “There’s…there’s no other reason yer plannin’ on stayin’ in town?” Stan felt like he couldn’t breathe. A silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of wind through the trees and Ford trying and failing to watch Tate inside.

“I, uh, I don’t have a lot of options-” Stan started. Fiddleford’s shoulders tightened; he hunched in on himself.

“That’s why? ‘Cause yer only other choice is to be homeless?” Fiddleford asked quietly. During the time span in which Stan and Fiddleford had worked together, Fiddleford had worked his weird, southern charm to convince Stan to talk about his life. Specifically, what his life had been like since he’d gotten kicked out of the house.

“I mean…” Stan mumbled. Fiddleford was silent. Stan could practically hear the gears turning in Fiddleford’s mind as he grappled with the decision to be more upfront about what he was asking. “Fidds.” Fiddleford looked at him, wary. Stan managed a cocky grin. “I’m not as much of a dumbass as Ford. I get what you’re asking about.” Doubt remained in Fiddleford’s eyes. Stan scooched closer.

“Would I have left if Ford didn’t tell me I could basically crash on his couch?” Stan said. “Yeah. Probably. There’s a lotta bad blood between me and Ford. I don’t think I’d be able to handle the stress of being in the same state as him, let alone the same town, if he wasn’t willing to try to bury the hatchet. Or bury at least one of the hatchets.” Stan saw Fiddleford roll his eyes the tiniest amount. The meaning was clear.

“Get to the point and address what I was implying.”

“But I wouldn’t have been happy,” Stan said softly. “And not just ‘cause things would still be bad with me and Ford. I- you-” Stan took a breath and tried to line up the words he wanted to say. “You’re the first person I’ve been able to open up to about my shitty, fucked-up life. Ford, I never needed to tell him, he was there for most of it. The people I met while I was homeless? Didn’t matter to me. I knew I’d see ‘em a day and be gone the next. But you…” Stan shook his head. “Despite my best attempts to push you away, you kept clawing your way back in, you little southern shit.” Fiddleford was smiling now. Stan could feel his heart pounding in his chest, so loudly that he was sure Ford and Tate would be able to hear it above the ruckus of whatever was going on inside.

“You need a push when it comes to forming a meaningful relationship.” Stan leaned in, his eyes filled with the light of the setting sun, reflecting off Fiddleford’s reading glasses. “Here’s your push. Go for it.” His lips met Fiddleford’s.

He was expecting Fiddleford to shout some southern swear and shove him away. But nothing of the sort happened. When they broke apart, Fiddleford looked away quickly, but not quickly enough to hide the redness of his face.

Wouldn’t have helped anyways, Stan thought, noting that Fiddleford’s flush snuck down his neck, disappearing behind his shirt collar. There was a dead silence. The wind had stilled, even the commotion in the house had stopped. C’mon, Fiddlesticks, say something!

“I, uh,” Fiddleford stammered finally, taking off his glasses and polishing them on his shirt, a nervous habit Stan had become familiar with. He slid his glasses back onto his prominent nose. “That was…”

“Hey, the moment was right,” Stan said with a shrug. His attempt to feign a lack of concern was marred by the crack in his voice. Fiddleford pursed his lips, looking down at his feet intently. “Look, if you didn’t like it-”

“No.” It was a whisper. “I- I did.” Fiddleford took a shuddering breath. “My folks, they- they’ve backed down from their original opinions, but it’s still- it’s-”

“It’s hard to fight the programming,” Stan said softly, thinking back to his own childhood. Filbrick’s disdainful sneer as he snarled slurs at anyone who didn’t fit in. Fiddleford nodded. “If you don’t want-”

“I do.” Fiddleford looked up at Stan, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I do. More- more than I would’ve thought possible, given we’ve known each other less ‘n a month.”

“What can I say? I’m a charmer.”

“No, you aren’t,” Fiddleford said, a tease in his tone.

“What?”

“I doubt the av’rage Joe would consider yer baggage, build, and general behavior to be as charmin’ as you think it is.” Fiddleford grinned. “But I ain’t the av’rage Joe, now, am I?”

“No, you’re not,” Stan said. “For one thing, it’s definitely not normal for someone to insult a person that they said they want to be, ah, romantic with.” Stan filled the word “romantic” with as much subtext as he possibly could. The effort was rewarded promptly – Fiddleford turned an even deeper shade of red. “I don’t mind abnormal, though. Especially when abnormal kisses like that.” Fiddleford covered his face with his hands. “Really, Fiddlesticks? You’re embarrassed? You were the one using tongue!”

“Oh, Lord,” Fiddleford wheezed. Stan decided to back off for the moment. Silence fell again, but more companionable. Less strained. Fiddleford shook his head. “I- you-”

“Take your time,” Stan said, amused.

“I was- before you started sayin’ that, I was ‘bout to say that you weren’t the only one who had a rare chance to open up,” Fiddleford finally said, his face blotchy.

“I thought you were close with your family,” Stan said.

“Well, sure. But I don’t want to drag ‘em into the nonsense I got myself into here in Gravity Falls.” Fiddleford smiled slightly at Stan. “You, though, got dragged into it by someone else entirely.”

“Yup.” Stan let out a long sigh. “I did. Same person that dragged you into it.”

“Yessir.” Fiddleford chewed on his lip. “I- Stanley, I think I’d like to- to try this.”

“This?”

“U-us,” Fiddleford stammered. Stan rolled his eyes.

“No doy. Figured that out when you used tongue on a first kiss.”

“Stanley, please!” Fiddleford shrieked. Stan merely grinned at him.

“I wanna take a stab at it, too,” Stan said reassuringly. “I-” Stan scowled. “Ford says that deep down, I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“Are you?”

“Fuck if I know.” Stan sighed. “But I wanna try something that I think could last. With someone I’m close to.” He looked at Fiddleford. “Someone who, despite being made of twigs, manages to be attractive.” Fiddleford blushed again. “So when do you wanna go out?”

“I, um…”

“If you don’t wanna go out in public, we can always come here. Or the woods,” Stan added as an afterthought. “Never done it in the woods before.”

“I need more than one date ‘fore I’ll do ‘it’,” Fiddleford mumbled. His disgruntled tone didn’t mask his smile, however.

“Okay, no woods. Where, then?”

“There’s a campground just outside of town. Isolated, secluded. Perfect spot fer a picnic.”

“I think I can handle a picnic,” Stan said with a slow nod. Fiddleford’s smile widened. There was a loud crash from inside, causing them both to jump, startled. Fiddleford looked back at the house.

“I should prob’ly go make sure Stanford hasn’t put Tate in danger. Or vice versa.” He stood up. Stan got up as well.

“Yeah, I think it’s high time I met your kid,” Stan said confidently. Fiddleford blinked at him in surprise. “Hey, you were the one who brought him over.”

“Yes, but…” Fiddleford shook his head in a fruitless effort to hide his growing smile. “Still. Wantin’ to meet someone’s child ‘fore you’ve even gone on a first date? That’s mighty bold.” Stan leaned over to kiss Fiddleford on the cheek. He let out a small squeak and turned red again.

“Thought you woulda figured it out by now, Fiddlesticks. I am bold.”

#Gravity Falls #Stanley Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Stanford Pines #FiddStan #fanfiction #deaging #Recoil AU #my writing #my stuff #this is......a looooooong chapter #speecher speaks

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btsonmymind · 4 years

Text

Seoulmates : Chapter One

P A I R I N G : Model!Jungkook X Reader X ?(You’ll just have to read to find out ;))

G E N R E : Angst (if you squint very hard), Soulmate AU

W O R D C O U N T : 2.3K

W A R N I N G S : None

S U M M A R Y : For thousands of years, the closer humans got to their soulmate a electric feeling shoots through the air. Only about 40% of the population will find their soulmate. The sparks you feel when the two souls meet is a give away, but what if there’s another way you could find your soulmate?

*BREAKING NEWS*

ACTRESS, LUNA YOUNG, FINDS HER SOULMATE ON A TRIP TO PARIS! SHE RECALLS THE PICTURE PERFECT MOMENT, “It was magical, a moment any girl would kill for.” STAY TUNED TO HEAR MORE ABOUT THIS ONCE IN A LIFETIME STORY. ONLY ON…

“Hey, I was watching that!” My best friend, Jimin, whipped his head in my direction, glaring at me. If looks could kill, I would be dead right now. Both of us were sitting on my couch watching the new channel for almost two hours. Jimin lived for those celebrity news shows, it was like a drug to him.

Throwing the remote on my coffee table, I shrugged my shoulders, “It was almost over anyways. Also, how do you even know she’s telling the truth? What if they are doing that for publicity? Science says it is a one in a million chance you would be able to find your soulmate anyways.”

Rolling his eyes, he turns his body toward me, “(Y/N), you are over exaggerating. It’s, like, one in a thousand. And, celebrities have money to travel and do all sorts of things, so it’s easier for them to find their soulmates.”

Sighing, I get up and walk to the kitchen. It’s really hard for “ordinary” people to find their soulmates. None of my family members ever found their “true love”, so they just married whomever they pleased. There are only a couple of stories of people actually finding their other half.

Everyone, who has found their soulmate, says the closer you are to them you get this tingly feeling, like electricity almost. And, the less distance between you and your “true partner” the stronger the sensation becomes. But it is hard for average people to find their “other half” because most of the time they live in other countries. Like Luna Young for example, she found her soulmate is Paris! She has the money to travel anywhere, at any time she wants. That’s why every month there is a new celebrity that found their soulmate.

Following me to the kitchen, he opens up my fridge and grabs two Cokes: one for me and one for him. “I just don’t get why you are so against finding your soulmate.”

“It’s because I don't want to waste my time and give my hopes up. If I find them, I find them. If I don’t, I don't. It’s not my dream to find my “one true love” and I’m not going to dedicate my whole life searching.” I crack open my drink and take a sip. The bubbly liquid going down my throat is nice and cold.

“Watch, with that attitude, you would be the first one in your family to find your soulmate.” He says with a slight attitude.

We sit there in silence, scrolling on our phones until Jimin speaks up again. “One of my mom’s friends is moving to Seoul next week. He’s going to be going to college with us. My mom wants us to show him around and to befriend him.”

He flips his phone to show me a picture of a guy around our age. I would be lying if I said he wasn’t the most attractive man I have ever seen. “Damn, he’s hot! What’s his name?”

“I think it’s like Sebastian... or something along those lines.” He shrugs his shoulders and continues to scroll through his phone.

Jimin and I start our first year of college next month and I couldn’t be more excited. Having the freedom of living on my own and not having my parents breathing down my neck 24/7 is life changing. Jimin made sure we both signed up for the same classes. For the most part we do except two classes, which I have to remember to make friends in.

Jimin and I have been best friends since we were 15. Jimin’s mother and father left South Korea when he was around 5 or 6 years-old. A couple months after arriving in California, his parents decided to open a bakery in the Los Angeles area: Cherry on Top. To this day it is still well-known and a popular spot for tourists to go.

Jimin and I first became friends our Freshman year of High School. He was always my seat partner in every class we had. So, being forced to talk to each other, we found out we had a lot in common. We've gotten closer and closer ever since.

Now for me, I’ve always lived in California. My father owns a popular modeling company in California: Star Modeling Agency. He travels all over the world recruiting new people to replace the old. But, recently, he has been traveling less. So, to continue his recruiting, he buys the recruiter their plane tickets to Cali. Father is trying to expand his company to South Korea. Having one in Los Angeles and the other in Seoul will double our income.

My father wanted to give Jimin a modeling gig, but Jimin politely declined. His dream was going to college and taking over his parents' business. So, in the future he wouldn’t have time to model and run a whole business at the same time.

Jimin and I had the same dream, except I was expected to take over the Agency. My father trained me all of my life. Yes, I could have skipped college and went straight into the business, but I wanted to experience college. Living in Korea, far away from my father, is too special to pass up.

After sitting around and doing nothing for another hour, it was time for Jimin to go home. “Text me when you get hime, so I know you made it there safely.”

Yanking me into a bear hug, he smiles “Yes mom…” He says in a mocking tone. I wave goodbye until I can’t see him anymore.

Going to my room, I get ready for bed. What if moving to Seoul is my chance to find my soulmate? What if Jimin was right that I’ll be the first one in my family to find my other half. “(Y/N) why are you even thinking about that?” I shake the obnoxious thoughts out of my head. Closing my eyes, I fall into a deep sleep.

*DREAM*

A GUYS LIPS CAME INTO MY LINE OF VISION. THE FLIRTATIOUS SMIRK ON HIS FACE TOLD ME THAT HE COULD HAVE ANYONE HE DESIRED. HIS FACE AND WAS FUZZY, BUT THE BACKGROUND WAS ALMOST HD.

“Who are you?” I REACHED OUT TO TOUCH HIS FACE, BUT BEFORE I COULD HE BACKED AWAY. I STOOD THERE AND WATCHED HIS BACK RETREAT UNTIL HE DISAPPEARED INTO A HAZY FOG.

Every night I would have that dream, my heart would be racing and my cheeks would be hot. I haven’t told Jimin about the dream, scared he would make fun of me or go on a rant about “soulmate this” or “soulmate that”. It’s not possible to see your soulmate in your dreams, especially if you haven’t met them. So, how could the guy in my dreams be my soulmate if I have never met him.

This is crazy! I don’t have a soulmate. It was only a dream, there could be a logical explanation to it. Should I tell Jimin? No, he’ll just overthink it. But, what if he is right and it is my soulmate. No, that’s just stupid. Stop thinking about it (Y/N)! I hit my head multiple times directing my attention to something else.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re going crazy,” Jimin looks up at me from his bowl of cereal, “Are you stressed about college? Did you forget something?”

Jimin and I sat in the back of my father’s car, riding quietly to the airport. A month has passed since I’ve seen him last. Both of us were dressed in a tank top and sweats. He had one of his airpods in his hands waiting for my response. It has been a month since I’ve last seen him. His hair has grown out a little, covering his eyes slightly.

Should I tell him? He is my best friend and I’m desperate for advice. “No. I packed, it’s just...if I tell you this, you have to promise me you will not tell a soul.” I whispered to him, so my father wouldn’t hear.

Nodding, he listens to every word I say. “I’ve been having a dream for the past month. It’s the same thing over and over. I’m standing there looking at a hazy face. But, the only thing I can see, clearly, is his lips. Also, he is smirking at me, which makes me feel hot all over. I try to reach out and touch his face but he chuckles deeply and turns around to leave. I can’t move or anything, I just watch him leave. The dream feels...real.”

He sits there staring at me, trying to process every word that shot from my mouth. “Let's be honest, after Luna came out with her soulmate, you have been trying to picture yours. I read on the internet that it’s completely normal to do that. It’s your brain trying to picture your soulmate for you.”

What Jimin tells me makes perfect sense. I’m trying to imagine what my “true love” looks like, so I can be satisfied with not meeting them. That’s the only logical explanation of my dream.

Groaning, I rub my face. Jimin can sense how bothered I am by it, so he changes the subject. “Hey look on the bright side, we are almost to the airport! A new beginning is waiting for us.”

I am excited. It is an opportunity to go to Korea where no one knows who I am. And, everyone who knows my name won’t associate it with my father.

Father did a great job by keeping me out of the camera’s eye as I was growing up. But, once I became a High schooler everything changed. Kids only became my friends, so they can get a contract with my dad. Jimin was and still is my only true friend.

The closer we got to the airport, I started feeling weird. It was like I was having constant shivers. I wrap my arms around my body, curling into my knees.

Looking at me worried, Jimin asks, “(Y/N)? Are you okay?” He rests his hand on my shoulder, lightly squeezing. The feeling is so hard to explain.

“Yeah, just a little cold.” I chuckled. I reached in my bag and yanked out my flannel jacket.

Jimin looks at me questionly, but ignores it and goes back to listening to his music. Looking out the window, I watch the cars zoom pass. Looking at my father drive, I wonder if he’s happy that I am leaving? I know he doesn’t hate me, but a part of me knows he is more relaxed with me gone. Father told me before that this is a great opportunity for me and that I should get used to Seoul, whatever that means. It was always just my dad and I. My mother left us when I was around 3 or 4. My father has always told me that I look just like her, and I think that is a part of the reason why he wants me gone so much.

I never knew the reason why my mother left us, my father never told me either. So, as I grew older I just let it go.

The closer the three of us got to the airport, the stronger the chills got. It was almost like needles pricking my skin. I was interrupted by my father speaking, “We are here,” he shifts in the seat to look at me, “I can’t get out because of the-”

“Paperazzi. Yeah, I know.” I rolled my eyes. Two security guards opened the truck of the SUV getting Jimin and I’s baggage. Jimin was standing waiting for me.

Before I could open the car door, my father spoke, “Text me when you get there, okay?”

I nodded and got out of the car. Jimin and I walked side by side. Both of us put our sunglasses on one the flashing began. The paparazzi yelled questions at both Jimin and I. With both of our heads held high we walked to our gate. The security guards helped us until we were safe inside the plane. As we walked, the chills got worse. Now feeling like energy crackling around me, I double over. Jimin grabbed my arm leading me onto the plane.

Once we sat down in our seats, Jimin grabbed my face so I could look at him. “Are you okay?” His eyes are blown wide, staring me down.

Grabbing his wrists, I reassure him, “I am fine Jimin. My stomach started cramping up, that's all.”

Throughout the whole plane ride the electric feeling stayed the same. I could tell Jimin was worried about me, so every so often I would squeeze his hand and smile up at him. I couldn’t have been happier when we landed. Putting shades on top of my head, I walked out of the plane, Jimin following me.

“I’ll go get our suitcases. Just stay right here.” I nod at Jimin, watching him leave. The shivers were back but that’s the only “pain” I am feeling. As I stood there waiting for Jimin. The electric feeling came back tenfold. Turning around I brace myself on the wall closest to me. Leaning on my left side I wrap my arms around my body. Can this feeling please stop. The feeling is getting worse. Should I go look for Jimin? Debating whether or not I should, I decided to go look for him. Whipping around, I hit right into a chest.

Right when I look up into the person’s eyes I feel like the time has stopped and everything is in slow motion. The sensations I am having feel like sparks. I’m pretty sure if you look close enough you can see the sparks shooting from our bodies.

The man that is holding me is smiling from ear to ear. Before I can comprehend what is happening, the fine male staring into my eyes speaks up.

“Hello, my name is Jungkook. And, what is your name, soulmate?” He stares into my eyes and smirks.

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{A.N.}

Hello guys!!! Thank you so much for reading! Chapter 2 will be out as soon as I finish writing it !!!

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