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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 7.4

Author’s Note: I believe I’ll be doing a LIVE pulling for Xiao tonight around 7:45 PST. Join me if you want to see me cry from happiness or from not pulling him LOL. The link is in one of my previous posts. Before, during, or after this chapter, listen to this song to get a feel of what’s happening! https://youtu.be/ifQ3JRS4gqc

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The voices never truly left you alone after that. You were practically becoming unhinged by the endless whispers that plagued your ears, and the quiet of night only seemed to egg them on further. When you were blessed with their silence, you were plagued the physical pains of the karmic debt and your depression from joining the harbingers. Childe was obviously growing more and more concerned with each passing day; you were beginning to freak him out. The Tsaritsa and the other harbingers, however, found great amusement in your...condition. It was a blessing in disguise; they were manipulating you much easier now that you were exhausted from the sleepless nights.

And it wasn't like you were constantly needing medical care, though you wished they would give you some heavy pain killers. No; whatever damage your body was burdened with would be repaired by morning thanks to Xiao's blood. The pain wasn't nearly as dramatic as the first wave, but it was a constant dull aching that ate away at your bones. Slowly but surely, the pains grew over time.

Xiao made his presence known to you only twice more; he showed himself in the late evenings for brief periods of time to quell your aching heart and mind. At least when he was able to be with you, the dreadful screams would disperse if only temporarily. At least when he was with you, you were granted sleep. Small waves of peace would reclaim you as Xiao watched over your sleeping figure.

But once Liyue's festivities were underway, Xiao's visits became nonexistent and your mind was once again thrown into deeper chaos while he fought off more demons. It was the busiest time of the year for both the inhabitants and the demonic presences of Liyue; it was Xiao's task to fend the latter off since the festivities attracted their attention and strengthened their presence. He felt you slowly shattering, and it hurt him to know he couldn't be with you as often as he wanted to.

One day out of the blue, over a month after you joined the Fatui, Childe approached you with a grand smile across his face. "Ojou-chan! Why don't I show you around Snezhnaya? It's much better than sitting in your room all day."

"...Aren't you always saying we could freeze to death?" Your unamused expression failed to hinder Childe's enthusiasm. "Why would I want to go outside?" The bags under your eyes spoke volumes about your continuous sleepless nights.

"Come on, Mezzetin, it'll be good for you. You could use the exercise."

"Are you implying something?" You're eyes narrowed dangerously, but Childe's grin only widened when your normal quips shone through your broken character.

"Well, if you ever feel the need to put me in my place, I'm more than willing to oblige to a fight," he watched your expression lighten for a moment before urging you. "Come on, I'll show you around."

Sheer cold wasn't an issue for this winter wasteland like it was on Dragonspine, but it had to be at least five times colder here. Childe made sure you were bundled up in a large furry coat before guiding you out of the castle and leading you to a town square that was surprisingly bustling with people despite the frigid temperatures. Stalls lined the streets. People gathered around to buy the freshest local food that included some incredibly large seafood varieties. Others were in line to buy trinkets, house decor, and a variety of other items.

"...A farmer's market?" Your cold breath of a remark caught Childe's attention, and he turned to you.

"Of course! Go ahead and look around. If there's anything you want, I'll buy it for you."

He's trying to cheer me up? You examined Childe's earnest demeanor as he eyed the fish stall with stars in his eyes. Can he just pick a side already?! You rolled your eyes. Still, might as well bankrupt him if he insists. You broke away from him and continued down the rows of stalls for awhile, unaware that the harbinger had rejoined you.

You were busy examining a few intriguing necklaces made of materials you haven't heard of when the whispers of the damned regained their voices. You staggered a bit only to be steadied by Childe's hand on your shoulder.

Childe noted your glowing eyes. "Happening again?" His genuine concern made you relieved that he wasn't a complete monster like the other harbingers. "If you need a break, there's a café over there that we can sit in." Your strained nod prompted him to guide you with a hand at the back of your shoulders.

"Hm?" A strange sound reached your ears, and this time it wasn't from inside your head. Your feet came to a halt before the two of you reached the building, and you tilted your head towards the sound.

It was a light and effortless tune that floated through the open air from yet another building. The melody was slow to build, yet you hung onto its every note. It took you a moment to realize that it calmed the demonic voices from screams to hushed murmurs. You followed the path of the sounds until you found yourself in an extremely outdated music shop.

"Mezzetin?" Childe attempted to regain your attention as he followed after you. He caught onto the childlike wonder glistening in your teary eyes. "Care to explain?"

"The pain..." a tear fell. "It's subsiding." You continued to stare at the harpist that played her tune at the back of the shop, eyes never leaving the fingers that plucked the strings. The voices were gone, and now you were only overwhelmed with a sense of peace.

Childe watched you silently listen to the music for a long while. An idea struck him. "Have you ever played?"

"Huh?" You snapped out of your daze and wiped the tears away. "Um...Granny used to play a lot when I was little. I know a couple tunes, but--" Childe walked to the shop owner without letting you finish, pulling out a large sack of mora while he was at it. "H-hey! What're you doing?"

"If it brings you happiness, then I don't see the problem in buying it," Childe argued back after he had purchased the most expensive harp in the shop and left a considerate tip. The two of you were walking back to the palace now. He had ordered for his subordinates to take the instrument back with them.

"But I haven't played in years! And I said I only knew a few simple tunes--"

"--Then I will ensure you receive lessons." He was not going to budge on this, and he made it obvious with his firm gaze. "The rest of the harbingers made it clear that they do not care for your wellbeing, but I do. Think of this as a gift and a type of therapy. You've been down ever since Xiao left you--"

"I left him," you corrected. And I so regret my decision.

"I'm just trying to prove that you aren't in a prison anymore. If you want to see it as that, then by all means, continue to be depressed. But something tells me you want to see Xiao again and find a way with him, no?"

"...Right."

"Then at the very least accept my apology gift to you."

"Huh? Apology?" You gave him a questioning look, but he either didn't hear you or elected to ignore you.

......................................

Xiao was being as antisocial as ever, but it's not like he would ever turn down an invitation for tea from Rex Lapis himself. Here he was, sitting just outside of Wangshu Inn with his master in the bright of day. Aether probably put the archon up to the task considering how Xiao pushed him away what felt like ages ago, but the yaksha decided to give Zhongli the time of day only because of his deep respect for his savior.

"I've also brought more pain killers," Zhongli handed the yaksha a small jar of other-worldly medicines as he continued to fill him in on the upcoming Lantern Rite. He had yet to bring you into the conversation, most likely to avoid irritating the throbbing wound in Xiao's chest.

"Mm." Xiao gladly accepted the medication and set it aside. This ensured yet another lull in their conversations.

"Will you go this year?" Zhongli sipped at his tea. "To the Lantern Rite?"

"My presence would only hinder the festival. Besides, I'm not great with crowds." The yaksha had yet to meet the archon's eyes, and kept his gaze firm on the teacup in front of him. Truth be told, he would have gone this year...with you, since it was you who had asked him. But now that these circumstances have come to pass, why should he go? "It's just another excuse for humans to discard their trash into the ocean." Why should he go when it would only remind him of his failure to keep you at his side?

Zhongli narrowed his eyes as he pondered whether words of comfort would aid his yaksha. "It would be good for you to experience something new after all your years of living."

"I already have," Xiao clenched his jaw, signaling that the topic was beginning to walk on thin ice. "She--"

"--Is not dead," Zhongli reminded. "Do not mourn for a loss that has not occurred."

"But she's dying," he argued back, finally releasing the emotions he's pent up ever since they left you. Zhongli's look of confusion prompted him to continue. "She can feel the karmic debt bestowed upon me."

"When did this begin?" The archon's usual reserved composure faltered slightly while his eyes widened.

"A month ago. I visited her; she can hear the voices of the damned. She's been in physical and mental pain ever since."

"The bond..." Zhongli set his teacup down a bit abruptly as he thought to himself. "It appears these side effects grow stronger in the other's absence. How intriguing..."

"How do we discard them? Is there a way?"

"Have you not interpreted my words in Qingce Village all along? Or my words at the Dawn Winery? I've already given you the means to act, Xiao."

--Can feel your emotions...emotions cannot be permanently ignored...fall on deaf ears...early grave... Xiao scoffed and downed the rest of his tea before forcefully setting the cup back down onto the table. "You think admitting my alleged feelings for a mortal human would solve the problem?"

"She's done her part, now it is your turn," he straightened. "If you fail to do so, I fear she will perish from your karmic debt in no time at all. If what you say is true, it's a miracle she's still alive. Your admittance would seal the bond, as it would eliminate the side effects altogether."

Xiao's head whipped in the direction of the playing of an instrument note, but was only greeted with the joyful screams of children running around nearby. "Tch. How annoying," he played his mishearing off and returned to his normal sitting position. Another sound reached his ears, but he neglected to react to it. The notes are off.

Zhongli didn't question Xiao's sudden alertness, but that didn't take away from the fact that yet another side effect has revealed itself to the archon. It appeared as though the yaksha was already aware of this side effect.

And man, did this one annoy Xiao the most. He heard the most random of tunes and chords at the most random of times. It would even jolt him awake when he managed to fall asleep on rare nights. It wasn't all unpleasant though; there were times in which the melody struck all the right notes and the result was a beautiful thirty second song before it was gloriously ruined by the musician's hesitance or embarrassment.

He knew it was you. Your constant need to practice was as pestering as your old daily prayers before he revealed to you that he could hear them. At least he only sometimes heard the plucking of strings. As pesky and invasive as it was, your insistence upon playing what Xiao only assumed was a lyre somehow brought a bit of joy to his heart. It meant that you were doing better than the last time he saw you.

He just wished he could hear the end result and not your sloppy practice sessions.

........................

Only on the eve of the Lantern Rite, several days before the celebration, did he come to appreciate the hours of hard work you were putting into practicing the music.

You had locked yourself in your room again after watching the failed experiments Dottore had forced you to witness. How many did you see die today? Fifty? He clearly needed to adjust the ratio of your blood to whatever else he had in that serum he developed. What was worse was that you were beginning to become desensitized to the loss of human life; amused by it, even. Just as the Tsaritsa wanted. Sometime into the fortieth treatment, your pains grew stronger as did the voices of the slain daemons.

You retreated to your room, relieved that Childe had for once allowed you to be without his presence. You sat yourself next to the window and allowed for the evening light to illuminate the music sheets the harbinger had bought for you. Your fingers grazed lightly over the strings as the voices continued to grow louder, absently plucking one of them to ensure that you still had full control over your slightly twitching limbs. You had nearly snapped the strings last time the voices overwhelmed you--

There's no time nor need to reminisce those incidents. You pulled yourself out of your thoughts and began to play, the smooth vibrations of the harp humming against your chest and shoulder as the strings were struck. Unlike your practice sessions, your hands glided over the strings from one position to the next like you had played for a thousand years. No hesitation could be felt from the chords. Finally, it seemed as though you mastered this song.

Xiao. I miss you...your warmth...your embrace... Your infested thoughts soon cleared as your mind drifted to an image of him. I wonder if he too finds comfort in music when the voices overwhelm him? For you knew that when the voices grew louder, he too, was subject to them. The music overcame the screaming daemons, and you were relieved with a sense of peace. Your fingers continued to play through the music and repeated the song for as many times as you felt fit. Your aching limbs continued to throb, but you didn't let that stop you from playing. Your mind now clear as water, you poured your longing for Xiao into your music. You hummed the melody as you played.

One day you'll find your way back to him, or him to you. Was it okay to allow yourself to believe in the possibility that he held the same feelings for you? Did he love you? No--Could he? It was already naïve enough to think he was capable of harboring such intimate feelings after living through hell for over two thousand years. And even if he did, it's not like you'd live as long as he has. Would he push me away again? You shoved that thought out of your mind with another series of chords.

You wouldn't be able to put an end to your feelings no matter what he did. He was too admirable, too strong, too strict, too beautiful. He was too kind, even if he put up a front. You loved him too much; perhaps that would end in your own downfall just as Childe predicted and beat into your head every day, but that was alright with you. If the voices were to eat away at you until all that remained were ashes, you were okay with being true to yourself until the very end. Even if he never thought of you as something more than a companion. And as you thought of him, the longing to be reunited swelled within your chest and overflowed into your fingers.

Your song was your unspoken prayer, your love and dedication were your offerings.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #xiao #xiao fanfiction #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao

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literaila · 3 years

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the agony of sanity: chapter one.

“the ghost of goosebumps”

spencer x reader

summary: in every instance, there must be a choice. control or pain? stay or leave? help or let them go?

warnings: fluff, angst, criminal mind stuff, s12 spoilers, italics represent a memory, slight emily x reader

a/n: okay. here it is. first chapter of many to come. i hope you enjoy it.

It wasn't something she needed to think about anymore.

It wasn't a scar that she needed to open up. That wound was old, forgotten in the chaos of the years she had spent building herself up. It had disappeared as she got busier and busier.

She didn't think of it anymore.

She could walk around feeling completely normal. Feeling like she could do anything. She could walk around and see couples and not have to wonder if that was how they used to look. She could walk around with a smile on her face, she could appreciate the finer things in life.

She didn't use to be able to. She felt like everything was crumbling under her, crashing down until she went with it, until she was covered in a pile of rubble, until she was buried under the weight of the things she didn't need to think about anymore.

She didn't think about it anymore. Didn't want to, didn't need to.

She’d moved on. She was changed.

She no longer stayed up late at night, no longer had those dreams. The ones that didn't really feel like sleep. The ones where she would sweat until her cold house felt like a sauna and no longer a place of rest. Those dreams that made her get up out of bed, get up out of her head until she couldn't see those pictures that flashed through her head anymore.

She didn't have those types of dreams anymore.

She went to work every day, smiled at everyone, laughed at all the right times. She didn't have to play pretend or close herself off. She was a completely different person, one that was in control of everything she did. Everything she felt.

She didn't need to think about him. She didn't need to wonder how he was doing. In fact, she didn't wonder. She never thought of him. He was erased in her memory, a blank spot where something used to be.

So, she never thought about it anymore.

She went on with her day, lived her life as well as she could. She reminded herself that she only had a limited amount of days. She reminded herself that even if it seemed like a lifetime, it would be over eventually, and she should appreciate it as long as it lasted. After all, the days were counting down.

She didn't need to waste time thinking about him, about anything related to the life she used to live, anymore. She didn't have that kind of time.

She rarely thought of it. She never did. She was in control.

Until that phone call.

Sun rested against her skin. A song playing in her head.

It was one she heard on the radio earlier, something that caught her ear as soon as she’d turned the volume up. She didn't know the name. Just the tune, just the part that kept replaying in her head.

It seemed appropriate, to have a song like this one- popular and upbeat -stuck in her head while she sat fresh in the sun, absorbing all the warmth she could get. It was appropriate that she was hitting replay on the one thing she could control that day.

Spencer was behind her, his chest a warm blanket against her back.

She was pretty sure that he was smiling. She felt like he was. He didn't have any reason not to be, there was no reason why there would be that frown she’d seen so many times on his face there. No reason to be upset on a day like this. On a day where the sun was shining, the wind was cooling off the burns that they had already developed on their cheeks. No reason to be upset when everything was perfect.

With a song like this stuck in your head.

“Cold?” He wondered.

She laughed as his breath tickled her ear, the wind blowing between the two of them.

She shook her head, comforted by his hand running up and down her thigh. While she laid in the sun.

“It's warm. Why would I be cold?” She whispered back, her voice taken by the wind. The two of them sighing into the relieving cool that came with the wind.

Spencer kissed her temple, moved back so that she could lean against him.

“You’ve got goosebumps,” he said, moving his hand so that it was running over the bumps that lathered her arms.

She shook her head again, following his motion with her eyes, now sure of the smile on his face.

“I’m not cold.”

Spencer hummed out an unfamiliar sound to her ears, so unlike him on any other day.

“Are you experiencing a strong emotion?” he asked, rubbing circles on her forearm, his fingertips only taking part in the goosebumps that continued to stay stuck to her skin.

She laughed, smiling up at the sun, appreciating the wind that was lifting the sweat from her neck. It was windy today.

“Shock?” Spencer continued his question, using the hand that wasn't on her arm to play with the strap of her tank top. “Fear?”

“What?” she whispered back, her mind almost completely captured by his fingertips brushing against her skin.

It was like he was painting a picture like she was his canvas. Like he was using her to make art. Like they were making it together.

“Strong emotions can cause the small muscles on your arm near the hair follicle to contract,” he said as if it was obvious, like she should have known already. “So if you’re not cold… is it shock? Fear?”

Something about the way he was talking, about the way he was painting with his fingertips, something about the wind. It was all a harmony to the melody in her head.

“Nope,” she popped, laughing when she could feel him stop his motions.

“Anxiety?” he asked, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

A breathless noise came out of her mouth, her head shaking once again.

“Inspiration?”

She laughed as he kissed lower down her neck. “Inspiration?” she implored with disbelief.

“Yeah,” Spencer whispered, continuing to kiss down her neck. His hand still firm on her arm, his other on her shoulder.

“No, not inspiration,” she replied, tilting her neck so that he would continue.

He stopped for a brief moment, and even though she couldn't see it, she knew that he was looking at her with curious eyes.

“Sexu-” before he could finish his sentence, she was turning around, moving his hands from her body. Stopping him before he could continue.

She laughed at his face. Her goosebumps gone.

And then, she kissed his nose. And got up. Out of his reach.

She cackled at the look on his face.

Running towards the sun.

“Emily?” she croaked, her voice stumbling out of sleep.

She looked over to the clock by her bedside table, the three little numbers flashing as she looked around. It was still dark outside. It was too cold in her apartment.

“Do you know what time it is?” She asked when there was no response, lifting her phone from her ear to check and see if Emily was still on the line. To make sure that it wasn't just a mistake.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Y/N used one of her hands to rub her eyes, curious at the way Emily’s voice sounded. It sounded like she was sighing. Like she was really tired. Y/N couldn't remember what time it was in Virginia.

“Do you need something?” she asked, trying to wring out the sleep from her body as she stood out of bed. Her room was a mess, clothes from the previous night lathered across the floor. She stepped around them in hopes to get to her kitchen. So that she could get some coffee.

Emily never called at night, but the occasional times she did, it was usually to ask a question. Or because she needed a friend. Y/N wasn't expecting to go back to bed any time soon, even if it was only four in the morning. It was late enough to get up anyway, wasn't it?

“Y/N,” Emily spoke for the second time, her voice more desperate. Serious.

Y/N’s eyebrows creased, she wished she could see the other girl so that she could fully gage her emotions. So that she knew what was going on. She could tell that this wasn't going to be one of their fun chats, Emily wasn't calling just to catch up.

“What's wrong Em?” she wondered, genuine worry slipping out.

“Spencer’s in prison.”

The words took her by surprise. They were sudden and unexpected. Y/N took a moment for her eyes to widen. Let herself hear the unfamiliar name, one she hadn't heard from anyone in years. It felt strange to listen to someone else speak it. She felt her heart clutter, moving against her ribs more forcibly than it had before.

She paused, the silence on the phone apparent to both of them.

And then, she took a deep breath, told herself not to ask, not to say the words. Not to think about it. She rolled her eyes. Let her emotions roll through her body.

“What did he do?” she said, not masking the borderline irritation in her voice.

“Y/N!” Emily sighed, and Y/N could practically see her friend rubbing a hand over her eyes. Though she wasn't going to act like she didn't mean it. “He didn't do anything.” Emily’s voice was harsher now, forceful. Like she was scolding Y/N.

“Emily, you hear that someones in prison and try not to ask what they did!” She defended herself, moving around her kitchen with her phone pressed against her cheek and shoulder as she got a pot of coffee started. It was far too earlier for her to be kind, and far too early for this information. “And whatever's going on with Reid, I hope it works out, I really do Emily, but why are you calling me again?”

The name felt strange in her mouth. Like it was something she’d never tried before. She was smart enough to make her voice sound sincere, to not let her annoyance at Emily slip out.

“I need you, Y/N,” Emily whispered, her voice small and pleading. And suddenly it all made sense to Y/N.

And-

No.

Y/N wasn't doing this. Not today.

Emily knew what she was going to say, she knew what the response would be. That's why she was using that voice. That desperate voice. Emily already knew her answer.

“No, Emily,” Y/N said, shaking her head fast and hard, blinking rapidly as she tried to come up with a better response. She couldn't go back, and she definitely couldn't help Emily with this. She wasn't going to.

“No listen Y/N, this is Spencer, Spencer who’s being charged with murder. And I know how you feel about him, but I’m asking you to forget about your feelings, and think about the man that is going to die in prison alone.”

She didn't utter a word, wincing at the thought of Spencer in prison. Hating Emily for bringing this up.

“Emily…”

“I’m asking you for a favor Y/N. You and I both know that you’re the best person, one of the only people I know that can help with this. I can handle all of the travel fee’s, all of the vacation time. I can even get someone to cover for you at work! I can get everything else solved.” Emily paused, quieter as she continued, “I just need you to come and help.”

It scared Y/N, to think about going back to the place she had vowed to never return. It scared her to open old wounds again. To hear the fear in Emily’s voice, Emily who was so much stronger than anyone Y/N had ever met.

She walked around her small apartment, and didn't notice the sun rising from her window. Her brain was trying to wrap around all of the things Emily had just said. Trying to make a decision that wouldn't hurt either of them.

How could she even help with this, how would she stand helping him with this when she forbid herself from ever thinking about him? How could she even make a difference?

“Y/N?” Emily whispered, the silence drawn out for too long. Her voice was worried, and although Emily seemed confident in her speech, Y/N knew that her friend was worried it wouldn't be enough to convince her.

“I’m here.” She said, her voice breaking as she paused her walking. She sighed, running a hand over her face as she debated with herself. “I’m here.” she repeated.

She could go, break little pieces of the person she had recreated off, and help Spencer. Help Emily, save all of them from the pain she knew would come if anything bad happened. Help them in some way that she didn't understand.

Or she could stay, she could stick with going to work every day, with being the boss and in control of everything. She could stay in control of her emotions, of her thoughts, of her memories. And she could break Emily’s heart. She could be selfish.

“Are you going to come?”

Control or pain?

Which was more important?

Which to choose?

“Y/N?” Emily asked again, clearly impatient. And Y/N understood it, she was worried. Y/N rationalized that if the cards were flipped, she would feel the same. She understood her friend's pain.

She would feel the same.

“Yes.” She whispered, taking a deep breath in. “Yes.”

Pain. Pain was more important.

“I’ll start packing now.” her brain froze, struck by the decision, by the situation she had just put herself in. “Tell me everything.”

“Emily,” she breathed out as soon as the woman appeared in her eyesight.

Seeing her was a huge relief, a breath of fresh air. Since Y/N had landed in Virginia she’d had a strange feeling in her stomach, one that resembled nostalgia, and another that was most definitely nausea.

It was strange to be back in a place that she had once called home. Strange that she was alone from the first step she took in the state. It was a terrible feeling to bed back here. To be back in such a familiar place.

But, even if she was frustrated with Emily for making her do this, for calling in her favor in such a harsh way, it was still good to see her friend.

They’d known each other for years, their initial introduction starting when they were both agents at the BAU. Back then, they weren't the closest of friends. Of course, they had no issue with each other, but both of them had always found it hard to become best friends with someone you caught serial killers with.

But, as soon as Y/N couldn't stay in Quantico any longer, as soon as she needed to get away, she’d called Emily. And she’d asked for her help.

They’d worked together at Interpol for several years until Emily moved back to Virginia, taking over the BAU team, and Y/N became the boss of their team.

And they’d become best friends here, each other's support. They spent days off in each other's apartments, drinking wine and laughing at romantic comedies that they both secretly loved but hated. They slept in the same bed, trying to rid the other of nightmares. It was a close relationship they’d developed, one that they swore they would lose when Emily moved.

When they got to each other, Y/N and Emily shared a brief hug, and a laugh no matter the circumstances, and then they were walking up to Emily’s office. It was dark outside, her plane arriving in the middle of the night. Emily said that she could meet the team the next day when they were awake, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn't work.

Y/N wished they could’ve been meeting together for better reasons.

“Okay,” she said as soon as she sat in front of Emily, files thrown across her desk, clear distress on every piece of paper. “I need to know what advantages we have in his case. I want to get a clear view of what I can and can't use,” she announced as she sat down, ignoring her body's pleading for rest. If she was going to help Emily, she was going to start as soon as she could.

Starting sooner meant leaving sooner.

Emily went flipped through some papers, nodding along with Y/N as she searched for something.

“Here’s all the evidence we have from the crime scene, Spencer’s statement should be in there.” the stack of paper was smaller than Y/N had expected, and she felt herself worried just looking at it.

Emily had briefed Y/N on the case over the phone while she was packing. Y/N knew all the basics. Spencer had been in Mexico, trying to find something for his mother, and was framed for murder. Emily was very sure that it was an act of an unsub they had been hunting down, Mr. Scratch, who seemed to have it out for all of them.

The two of them read through the papers, despite Emily being already familiar with everything in them. They sat in silence for multiple minutes, neither of them having anything interesting to bring up, nothing either of them could say when all the clear answers were thrown out in front of them.

And those answers were that there was nothing. The crime scene pointed at Spencer. Everything in the evidence seemed to match up with Spencer. Whoever had framed him had clearly thought it out.

Y/N sighed, rubbing her eyes and looking up at Emily, who looked exhausted frankly. Y/N empathized with her. Understanding more than she wanted to.

“Did Reid have a drug screen?”

Emily nodded, handing her another file. “He did, but by the time they took it all of the drugs had metabolized in his system.”

“Shit,” Y/N whispered, scanning the screening, confirming what Emily had said. “And you checked the scene for any evidence of drug residue?”

“There was nothing found. Mr. Scratch has a pattern of intoxicating his victims using the vents, but there was nothing there.”

Y/N dropped the file she was holding in her lap, looking at Emily who shared her expression. There was no evidence helping either of them.

Y/N blew out a breath and then looked out the window. “Em, I’m going to be honest, it doesn't look good.”

“I know,” Emily rubbed at her eyes. “That's why I called you.”

Y/N looked back over to Emily, who winked at her then gave her a teasing smile. It was the first time the both of them had laughed that day.

“Okay,” Y/N kept the smile on her face, brushed some hair from her eyes. “Here's what I think..” she started, taking a deep breath. “the only advantage Reid has here is the fact that he can't remember anything. This could clue into his intoxication, and also provides an inconsistency with the evidence. If he can't remember anything then there's still a missing piece.”

Emily nodded, her eyes hopeful.

“When can I meet with his lawyer?” Y/N asked, changing her train of thought.

Emily looked confused, “I thought you were going to step in for his lawyer?”

Y/N laughed, for a brief moment thinking Emily was joking. When she looked up from her laugh back at Emily she could see that she was wrong. “Oh you’re serious…” she paused, thinking. “Well, in Virginia you have to get your license recertified every year, and we don't have time for me to do that.”

Emily looked down, checking her watch.

“I can help his lawyer though.” Y/N finished, looking curiously at Emily. “What’re you doing?” she asked, noticing how distracted her friend got in the middle of her sentence.

“It's very late, you probably haven't slept since getting on your flight. We should get some rest. Continue this in the morning.” Emily announced, standing up from her desk. This was a sudden topic change. It seemed like Emily was trying to push Y/N out of the office. She nodded, confused.

Y/N followed, grabbing her bag. She walked with Emily out the door, not missing the slouch in her friend's posture, nor the silence that followed the two of them. She wondered if Emily was done hoping in anything coming of this, if what she said had decreased any hope Emly had. She told herself that she was probably just tired.

But still, she had to say something.

“Emily, it's going to be fine,” Y/N reassured, stopping by the door. And Emily nodded, but the silent question of ‘how?’ didn't escape either of their minds.

Emily looked doubtful, but she still smiled at Y/N.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N.” she said finally, walking back to her office and leaving Y/N all alone, with that feeling.

“Hey Spence?” she called through the house, struggling to put her boots on as she got ready.

There was no reply from the other room, where Spencer laid in bed, his eyes closed and his face scrunched up. It was dark all around their house, all of the lights turned off even when it was so dark outside.

Spencer had been getting these headaches, ones that he said made everything look brighter. Ones that seemed to kill him from the inside out. In an effort to support him, Y/N had started getting used to walking around her house in the dark. She wasn't sure it was working. She wasn't sure if her efforts were making any difference.

“You okay, love?” she called again, quieter now that she was closer to their room.

She had a case to get to, one that would probably take longer than a couple of days. Hotch had demanded that Spencer stay home as long as he was still feeling sick. He didn't want Spencer out on the field with the possibility that a headache could hit him and he could get hurt.

In all honesty, Y/N was relieved. Spencer did not seem up to leaving, and she wasn't sure how much help he would be even if he was there. Recently, he’d been more and more irritated with everyone, his emotions being thrown at all of them. It was starting to get intense, starting to worry Y/N, and she didn't want to have to think about it at work too. She didn't want to have to worry while there was a serial killer on the loose.

Maybe that was wrong.

Spencer didn't respond even when she walked into the room, he stayed under the covers, his body leaning away from her, his back facing their door. “Spence?” she whispered, walking closer to check and see if he was sleeping.

Sleep might be good. Maybe he would feel better with some sleep.

But when she heard a grunt from under the covers she sighed. She couldn't imagine how much pain he was in, and she had no idea how she could help. He’d been to the doctors, been prescribed pain medication that he would never take. There was nothing else either of them could do.

“I’m leaving soon, is there anything you need before I go?” she whispered, sitting on her side of the bed, waiting for him to look at her.

When Spencer peeked out from under the covers, his eyes were red and his hair was a mess. She wasn't sure how long it had been since he’d left bed, didn't know how much longer he could stand to stay in bed all day.

“Coffee?” she asked, hoping to get a smile out of him when he didn't respond.

But Spencer shook his head, not in the mood for jokes. He wasn't in the mood for anything. He didn't know why he couldn't get to sleep.

Y/N sighed, watching him crawl back under the covers.

“Okay,” she said standing up. There wasn't anything she could do anyway. “I’ll be home soon love, be careful.” she hoped that her words had made him feel comforted, that she was saying the right thing.

When there was no response she walked towards the door. A frown developing on her face.

This pain in her chest hit her. She wanted to see him smile at her again, she wanted him to kiss her goodbye. She wished he was going with her.

But, he couldn't, he was sick and there was nothing that was helping. There was nothing she could do.

Hopefully, he’d feel better as soon as she was home. Hopefully, he would be standing in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading a book he’d read a million times before. Hopefully, he would smile at her again, cause goosebumps on her skin like he loved to do.

Maybe he’d be better when she got home.

She held onto that.

She was going to have to think of it.

It didn’t matter if it opened up that wound, split her scars in half, and ripped her heart from the cage of her ribs. She was going to have to think of it, that was clear.

She hadn’t seen Spencer in four years, hadn’t mentioned his name aloud to anyone but herself. She removed him from her memory, burned all the pictures she had of the two of them, and limited any communication that could’ve been possible with him. She didn't want to see him four years ago, and she didn't want to see him now.

She’d made her wishes perfectly clear with their shared friends, she didn't want to know how he was doing, she didn't want to know anything about him. She just wanted to move on, wanted to let herself heal so that she could go to better things.

There were always better things to think about.

But this thing between the two of them, this silence that they’d both kept up for years, it was clear that it was going to have to come to an end.

She couldn't just stay away from him anymore, she wasn't thousands of miles away on a different continent. She wasn't the boss here in Virginia, she was just Y/N. The same girl that had left years ago. The same girl that could never control her emotions.

She was going to have to think of it.

No matter the consequences it had on her body, on her mind, on the emotions she had so carefully boarded up. She was going to have to relive this pain, she was going to have to move on from it. Move on as she should’ve years ago.

She was terrified. Because, yes, she’d spent all these years alone. She had months to make peace, months to reinvent herself so that she wouldn't have to feel this small again. She’d had so much time to do something, anything that would change her from the person that she had been four years ago in Virginia.

But she hadn't. She’d only closed off that part of her life. Stopped thinking about it.

And she was going to have to face the consequences of that.

Because she was there, at the prison, and she was getting signed in.

It wasn't her first time at a prison. When she still worked with the bureau, she used to get sent in to interview serial killers once a month. She was always the person they sent to handle a particularly difficult subject. She was always the best at getting information out of people that didn't want to speak. It was part of the reason she had stuck with the FBI for so long, because they valued her and her skills.

So no, she wasn't nervous to be walking into prison again. Even four years later she was familiar with all the procedures that it took to get her in. She was used to the grey walls still, the distant feeling that everyone seemed to get when walking in.

It was visiting day, and she’d asked Emily if she could go and speak to Spencer first, before anyone else could tell him that she was there. They needed to make amends, and fast, because Y/N didn't know how long she could work on the case with these pent up feelings still stuck in her head, in her chest.

She wasn't sure how Emily had gotten her past all of the restrictions for visitors, but she appreciated it.

She was terrified. Not to be around murders, or other criminals, but to be around him again. After so long.

Because now was the time, now she had to actually think about it.

And she wasn't allowed to let it tear her apart. She wasn't allowed to run away this time.

She’d profiled all of the guards there, the skills coming easy to her, as she waited for the inmates to be let into the visiting room. All of the men that worked in this prison seemed nonchalant, as most guards were. They didn't care much. She did notice though, the looks she got for being here.

It was unusual for someone of her status to be in a prison.

It was unusual for someone to be allowed in under the circumstances that Spencer was under.

And, of course, government agents didn't usually get a warm welcome in prisons.

It had been ten minutes since she sat down, waiting for him to show up, and she was starting to get restless. She was tired of this overwhelming anxiety building in her brain, and the longer she had to wait, the worse it would get.

It was just Spencer. She had to remind herself of that. No matter how bad they had ended things, no matter how long it had been since they talked, it was only Spencer. Spencer, the man who could barely hurt a fly.

He wasn't intimidating in the slightest.

She had to remember that.

For a brief moment, she wondered how he was doing, what prison was turning out to be like for him. If he wasn't intimidating to her, he certainly wouldn't be intimidating to the inmates.

She winced when she thought of all the things that could happen to him. She turned off her brain, banning herself from thinking like that.

She wasn't here to worry about him. She was here to help. To save her friends from that pain.

She took a deep breath in, holding it for four seconds, exhaling for eight. Grounding herself like she was used to. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

But she was interrupted by the loud beep of the door. By the men starting to walk into the room.

One after one they walked in, most of them with a glare in their eyes, none of them had made direct eye contact with her, but even if they had, she didn't think she would have noticed.

Because after twelve more seconds of waiting, and multiple men walking in a line, she saw him.

And, this was the first time. It had been four years, and even though he hadn't changed much, her brain couldn't help but classify him as different in her head. Because he was, he looked different, looked changed from the last man she had known him as.

Goosebumps, slithered their way up her arms, pouncing on her like she was their prey. She shivered as she looked at him.

And she didn't like the look in his eyes when he saw her.

She knew that he wasn't expecting her, that he would never have expected her to come back, especially not for him, especially not now. After four years, why would he ever expect her to be there, why would she ever come back.

She wasn't supposed to be there, she wasn't even on his visitor's list. So how was she there, why was she there.

He was shocked, and Y/N felt terrified when she saw him pause, when she saw his eyes glance back like he was going to run away from her, like he couldn't deal with her being there. But, he had held up the line, and she saw the inmate behind him push him. Too hard.

She forgot for a moment that he was in prison.

Spencer picked up his speed, continued walking toward her even with that look in his eyes. That one that let her know that this conversation wasn't going to be all that pleasant.

And she barely recognized him. Barely recognized herself. Barely recognized the voice coming out of her mouth when he sat down in front of her with shocked eyes.

She wondered if he had goosebumps.

“Hey, Spence,”

chapter two

194 notes · View notes

sopxhiea · 3 years

Text

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: The ropes are tied on both ends after their last meeting and the infamous wild girl keeps tugging at them, until a sliver of vulnerability seeps through and Alfie sees her for who she is.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Am I in trouble?”

“You play so hard to get...Will I ever catch you?”

The marble walls are cold. It’s sometime in december, hard to tell since the days seem to be morphing into each other as the clock ticks. The sun no longer shows, and it’s faint when it does. One sound from the large clock on the hallway and it’s the end of the week, the passing of time seems to escape the months.

Although no one seems to care as they dance through the night.

It was put somewhere in the calendar by Annabelle, and you vaguely remember the fading lines of your uncle’s smile as he told you he’d be getting married soon. It was hard to care, even harder to remember why you were standing there, in the corner of the lavish room while the music boomed through the fancy building.

There were many things to be said, but you’d keep them to yourself for the day.

The bride was a sham, you could tell from the way she didn’t even smile at your uncle. He was somewhat of a rich guy, although you hadn’t experienced any of the said money since he happened to be greedy guy who just wouldn’t share what he reclaimed to be his.

Much to your luck, you had no interest in his money or any of his property but the new bride couldn’t disagree more. Annabelle had sent you off an hour before the event started and it was school policy to get in before midnight but you never did, even when it wasn’t someone’s wedding and just a tuesday night.

She’s not supposed to tell anyone of your whereabouts but a little green bill and Annabelle turns into a song bird.

You smile at the guests as they dance, hand in hand as the slow song fills the air. It’s rather strange seeing you like this, some think. You’re usually the source of trouble, the one causing the mess and not the quiet girl you’ve been since the wedding started but you figure you owe your uncle that even though he had forcefully sent you to a boarding school and didn’t send you anything on your birthday.

You don’t hold grudges, you say to yourself.

With the strange passage of time, sometimes you can’t quite pinpoint where the reality starts and the dreams end but you know he’s real. The way he tries to play your little game, where most of the men either failed or simply gave up. He’s been holding up his end, you conclude, after almost a month of spontaneous visits.

Alfie, is his name.

You don’t call him that, although he insists but you enjoy the way his scruff covered face reddens way too much to do things the proper way. You hadn’t even kissed him yet, but he still came back for more. He was easily riled up by you and hated Annabelle and sou you figured, you wouldn’t drop this one.

It was easy, to get tired of men and it happened almost naturally for you. The first stages were far more than exciting, when you didn’t know anything about the bloke’s life or boring job he had but soon after that, reality would set in and you’d realise that the bloke you had your hands on was just another boring rich boy who was too good for you in his family’s eyes.

But not him, Alfie had proved to be quite the opposite.

There was blood on his hands and a weight that came with it, it was evident in the way he walked and spoke, he didn’t just do things out of spite like the young lads did. You didn’t even know how old he was, only that he was close to being twice your age as Ollie had told you one time without giving away too much but that didn’t bother you.

It bothered Annabelle, though. You could see it in her eyes.

Being the infamous wild lady had its perks and one of them was the way you had access to direct information on the town’s social climate. Sometimes it was a bitter, snotty girl telling you her best friend had gotten married to a bloke from Birmingham or the drunk lad you were dancing in the club speaking to you about the new club that was opening soon. It came in many forms but the most important part was that it was the voice of the youth around.

Apparently, Alfie’s gangster nature and piercing eyes had made him an attraction of sorts for the younger ladies. No one would say it except some of the girls you knew who worked in the brothel he had visited many times before. There was a line, the girl had told you under the dim light of the entrance, a line made of posh girls who wanted Alfie to fuck their brains out for the thrill of it.

It had almost made you smile.

You didn’t look down on any of the girls for the thoughts they were having, if anything you agreed but Alfie wasn’t just a bloke who lived around the corner from their posh apartments, you knew. He was in a dangerous line of business and very capable of snapping your neck in two if he wished to. It was thrilling, you would give the girls that, but he would need a lot of warming up to be the consistency you wanted him to be.

And that had been in the works, for the past month.

He was the one who came around, the one to seek you out and that put you in the higher hand when compared to him. You could say no, you wouldn’t but you could and Annabelle would just have to shoo him away with a regretful smile. There were a dozen girls worth half the trouble you were causing him but he liked the trouble, he had signed up for it when he brought you home the first night.

He and you had talked, answering all the questions this time but with a couple white lies here and there. You’d told him about your greedy uncle and about the paintings and he told you about his past and how he came to be the person he was. You’d lied to him when he’d asked you about the number of the guys you’d fucked and you’d amplified and multiplied it. He had just nodded and raised his eyebrows.

He’d lied,too, but you’d caught it.

He lied about before the war and the lost love he had but you saw it in his eyes. He lied about his family when you asked and also about what he did, at least some of the lines of business he was involved in but you didn’t push. He hadn’t shot you after pressing all his buttons and you didn’t have a death wish before solving the puzzle of Alfie Solomons.

You soon find yourself leaning against the exterior wall of the building, on the outside towards the street where there’s no one but you and a couple people walking by. The air is cold but you don’t seem to mind it after borrowing the bride’s fur coat, which she had no idea about as she danced inside. You’d return it when you went back inside but it felt warm against your skin and the material was pleasant.

Alfie thought you looked fucking beautiful.

Annabelle wasn’t supposed to give information about your whereabouts but all he had to was to shoot her an annoyed look and she would tremble under his piercing gaze. Her uncle’s wedding, she had said, she wasn’t so happy about it since the bride is just a little older than she is but she’s gone. Alfie had listened and furrowed his eyebrows before shouting at Ollie to drive to where the wedding was taking place.

And there you were, with rosy cheeks leaning against the cold wall of the building.

He didn’t know why he was there, he didn’t ask himself since he was afraid of the answer. He had felt something similar before, not quite the same but he recalled the pretty lass who’d managed to make his chest feel too tight for his heart.

He wouldn’t say it though, not to himself or anyone else.

He cleared his throat while you kept staring at your shoes. They were new, bought just of the occasion but they were damn uncomfortable so before he could utter a word. he saw you lean down and take the kitten heels off of your feet and step on the cold pavement of the ground. He chuckled in surprise which made you look up, he wondered where all of the hours of etiquette class had gone but he wasn’t complaining.

“Mr. Solomons.” you spoke in a breathy voice, a little less chirpy or seductive compared to usual and he saw it in your eyes too but you were far too quick to cover it all up before he could comment on it.

“‘ello, lass.” he spoke in his usual gruff voice and watched your pretty features scrunch up and stare up at him.

“It seems as though you always end up finding me.” you spoke, genuine suspicion in your voice and you continued with a smirk Alfie knew well. He was glad he had told Ollie to stay put in the car and was the only one to see you beaming up at him. “Are you having me followed?” you chuckled at the end of your sentence and he smiled at your words.

He wasn’t, not intentionally anyway.

If he had been, you would’ve noticed. You snuck out nearly every night from the school and almost never got caught. Annabelle would hear things the next day if she was lucky but you knew the way the city worked, if someone had followed you, you would know.

“What brings you to this hellhole, then?” you spat out and saw the discontent in his eyes before he covered it up.

He was almost as good as you in this game, almost.

“Just lookin’ to see the lass.” he spoke, eyes boring into yours as you stood in front of him, looking up since the man was twice as tall as you.

“Hm.” you nodded, looking at the familiar black car and then him. You knew Ollie was in there watching you and Alfie never just came to see you and leave, he was going to take you someplace like he usually did.

“’t’s not fuckin’ fun in there?” he spoke, signalling the large doors that opened up to where the wedding was taking place.

You smiled first and chuckled while you did so, it wasn’t the usual one but he’d take it. Looking at him through fluttered eyelashes, you spoke in a sweet voice that made him stay up all night dreaming of you.

“It’s not my cup of tea, Mr. Solomons.” you said in a breathy voice and he watched, just looked at you for a while.

“Ya’ wanna get out of ‘ere, lass?” he said, meeting your doubtful eyes which were often filled with nothing but trouble and he found that somewhere in there too but it wasn’t as obvious as the last time he’d seen you.

“Am I in trouble?” you spoke through a wicked smile, one Alfie knew well. Maybe too well for his own good, he thought.

“No, lass..” he spoke with a low grin, you could see the amusement seeping off of him. “You, yeah, are the fuckin’ trouble if ya’ ask me.” he spoke through his teeth and earned a wide smirk from you.

You were that, and both of you knew it.

“Well..”you spoke, clutching tighter to your new aunt’s coat as Alfie watched you through glassy eyes. “It’s a shame I didn’t ask.” you said with a lighter tone and it caused Alfie to chuckle loudly, which only made the corners of your lips twitch up in reaction.

You played the game too well.

“Where are you planning on taking me this time?” you spoke in a sweet voice, he saw you regain your usual attitude slowly after the laugh and he was glad it was coming back. He needed it to come back, even if he wasn’t able to admit that to himself yet.

He just shot you a smile and walked away after that, towards the big car where Ollie had been waiting for a while. You followed him, no questions asked or no feeling of fear in the pit of your stomach.

It took two to play this game and you had the upper hand, you always did.

----

It came as a shock to him.

The yards of soil coated in grass were now getting ready for the sunset. There were a few animals here and there, a horse and a group of cows that were nowhere near where Alfie was standing or the sign he’d told you to shoot. Ollie was left in the factory, Alfie had driven you all the way to the suburbs on his own and you felt like that wasn’t very boss-like but it didn’t matter.

“I know how to shoot.”

Your words echoed in his mind for a second.

You were half his age and size, he was sure you had been home-schooled or whatever the rich kids did. The posh people Alfie knew didn’t let their daughters within a one-mile radius of someone who had the possibility of carrying a gun let alone actually teach them.

“You fuckin’ what?” he spoke, a look of surprise coming over him which only made you smile at his expression in return.

Of course you knew how to shoot.

You were an expert at sneaking out and making trouble but that came at a price. Men liked to look at how pretty you looked while you danced but some wanted to touch as well, that’s when self defence became a priority. You could punch them or kick them in the nuts but some were strong so a pistol worked, or the small knife attached to your bra but you wouldn’t tell Alfie that.

“You really need to get your ears checked.” you said, visibly annoyed since he had done the same exact thing the last time he’d seen you. He scoffed at first and then walked over to you, slowly and you just watched.

You didn’t know who was the lion and who was the prey anymore. Not when you had a knife strapped to your bra and a gun in your hands.

“Where the fuck did ya’ learn how to shoot? A lass your age?” he said and you realised he was talking to himself and not you. You let him mumble away for a few seconds before stepping up and speaking.

“Well, It seems as though I’m old enough for you to come looking for me every damn week so I assume I’m not too young....” you said, still pissed at his comments about your age. He had no problem fucking you with his eyes but brought it up when it had to do with a gun. “...and I learned on my own. For protection.”

He looked at you, from head to toe and nodded as his hands ran through his beard. The sun was slowly setting and the speckles of light caught his skin and beard, illuminating him in a way that you’d only seen in renaissance paintings before. You gulped but composed yourself quickly, you could show no weakness.

“I ain’t comin’ to look for ya’ every fuckin’ week.” he said and you smiled. Out of all the things you had said, he got stuck on the one thing.

“Why is Annabelle giving me so much trouble about your unannounced visits then?” you said, in a heartbeat and he smiled at you, just smiled for a solid second before turning away. You were quick to answer your question since you had found out that Alfie wasn’t a fan of doing that.

“Either she wants to fuck you or is genuinely annoyed.” you spat and he turned in one swift motion, facing you again with the ghost of a smirk you’d seen earlier.

“Eh?” he made a sound of encouragement mixed with confusion. Alfie was used to you being so forward but every now and then, it still caught him off guard.

You nodded as a way to confirm the first assumption and spoke again, you were walking next to him as he slowly moved towards the target he had told you to shoot. You looked too comfortable with a gun in your hand, he thought as he watched your lips move.

“You tell me which one, although I have a pretty good idea.” you spoke through a fit of giggles and he watched your features change under the afternoon light.

He was utterly fucked.

“Ain’t she a fuckin’ old maid?” he voiced his opinion and earned a sweet smile from you. You nodded again, a bit quicker this time and fought a fiddle of giggles before speaking.

“She is.” you licked your lips and spoke as Alfie stared at you under the setting sun.

Your hair was all over the place, cheeks red due to the cold weather and he wanted to kiss your nose, warm you up but the game was still on so he composed himself, settled for the inappropriate dreams he’d been having for the past month since you’d been in his house.

“She’s about your age, I think.” you spat out without looking at him and he made a hurt noise, his way of saying that he was offended but the shocked face turned into a small smirk as he spoke, hand tugging at his beard like it usually was and for a moment, your eyes got stuck on his golden rings.

“I ain’t as old as you fuckin’ think I am, lass.” he spoke and you smiled at him. You knew he was significantly older but neither of you had voiced it before but you didn’t think it mattered. He could be as old as he wanted but he’d still be the only person who was able to keep up with you.

“And I’m not as young as you think I am, Mr. Solomons.” you spoke under your breath, eyes at your shoes as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. He wasn’t dangerously close but the warmth of his skin spread through yours.

He waited for a moment, looked at the delicate features of your face as you offered him a gentle smile, contrasting the cold air around. He knew you were older, you just looked younger and it didn’t bother him. If anything, he figured it was perfect since he appeared to be older than he was.

The game was fun, he would admit. Like a breath of fresh air in the dull life he seemed to lead, although you would speak to differ since every act that came from the man was everything but boring. You licked your lips, ready to answer any question thrown your way with a bit of sass you carried around with you. He couldn’t figure you out for the life of him, it drove him mad to think about you yet it seemed to be all he was capable of doing those days.

“Ya’ play so hard to get...Will I ever catch ya’?” he sounded confused, convinced that it would never happen somehow but you would slow down at some point, he just didn’t know it.

Men liked chasing girls dressed in pretty lace and with bright, beaming eyes. You were that girl, had been chased by many but you’d never found it in yourself to stop and look back, none were interesting enough to do that. They wanted superficial things, a fuck or a dance or maybe the thrill of being with a girl every cockney banged on about but there was nothing real in those kind of relationships.

But you figured, since Alfie was proving to be nothing like those men, you’d slow down just a little.

Not now though, but sometime in the future.

“Maybe If your sciatica gets better, you might have a decent shot at it, Mr. Solomons.” you spoke through a beaming smile and the words and the redness on your nose caused Alfie to laugh. He still wanted to kiss you, he realised.

“‘s Alfie, luv.” he reminded for the countless time, but he knew it was useless. He liked the way you said it anyway, much better than anyone he’s heard.

“Sure it is.” you spoke through a half-hearted giggle and started walking towards the car.

He had brought you here to teach you how to shoot but you knew how to do it already, he felt an ease in his gut knowing that. Men around London were dangerous and although he’d speak to differ that you were more lethal than any man he’d seen, a woman could never be too careful. He knew.

He watched you get in the car without the usual help from Ollie, realised something along the way. If he were honest with himself, he had realised it some time ago but he wouldn’t admit to it, took all the fun in his eyes. He smiled at you before looking at the sunset one last time.

The thrill of this would pass but Alfie was sure it would leave a sweet aftertaste. The days were short now, the time washed over the clock like an unexpected tidal wave from a once calm sea. There was a siren calling out to him, enticing him with her words each time she spoke but the siren had no intention of killing him in a cruel way. She was too soft for that, although many saw her as a killer trap.

The siren was you, and you were so beautiful under the sunset as you waved at him from the car.

I might die, he thought. I might die and it would be because of her, he said to himself as he looked at your smile. He soon concluded that he didn’t mind that at all. He would prefer it to the slow bleeding of a knife wound or the quick and efficient house of a bullet in between his blue orbs.

That was how it started, with the handsome sailor ignoring all the warnings.

The amateurs didn’t see the warnings before the siren engulfed them, ate them whole and left no trace. The beginners would be fooled quickly but no, Alfie wasn’t new to this. He knew that the captains went to the sirens on purpose, not because they were fooled but because the siren was a new source of hope in a different world.

And the times had changed.

“Silly girl.” Alfie mumbled to himself after getting into the car. You were sitting quietly next to him, in an unusual manner where you were almost sulking.

You realised, once you sat in the car and gazed out the window to see the now fading orange sky, that until that very point it had always been Alfie who would seek you out. He’d mostly paid you unannounced visits at the school but sometimes, he’d catch you during your weekly shopping trips or even the library. Never during the nights when you’d sneak out to go dancing in the pubs.

Although he knew all about it, you knew the faces of his men by this point. The man who’d follow you in and out of school.

So you decided that it was time for a simple yet revolting change. You’d invite him out this time, in a less more proper manner than he had.

You had it all planned out and he had no idea. You let him drive you to the school, commenting on how boring his old man stories were and he just chuckled and mumbled something under his breath. You let him drop you off, a gentle kiss on your cheek and the cold feel of his rings against your hand as he whispered in your ear, “I’ll see you soon, luv.”. You waved at him as he left.

He had no idea of the hurricane that was about to hit him.

So you got ready, lace all over your body in a sheer dress. You wore your favourite kitten heels and just a simple lip just how Alfie liked it. It was time for a little play, something to tip his interest further. It wasn’t like you’d lost it but men were very easily distracted. So you’d created a masterplan to remedy the problem you thought you had. Your hair was let down, tickling your shoulders as you swayed your hips in the fur coat that had belonged to the new bride in your family but the wedding was long forgotten.

You wouldn’t fuck him, you didn’t think.

Or maybe you would, you said to yourself as you approached his large house. The nerves were near but so was he and you had no intentions of fucking this up. He was an interesting one, one worth keeping and you would make sure of it.

Nine pm. The air cold around your shoulders as a smile graced your lips. You were supposed to be in the tea room, blocks away from where you were standing in front of a stranger’s door.

Well, not so much of a stranger anymore.

One knock, and then another.

His voice filled the other side of the door, a smile graced your lips and you braced yourself for the night, for the look of surprise that would surely be cast on his handsome features.

One inhale, one genuine smile and the swift motion of the door opening.

There he was, your handsome stranger.

And you’d kiss him that night.

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @fuseburner @r-rose08 @innerpaperexpertcloud

a/n: They will kiss soon and do more stuff :) so stay tuned pls and lemme know if you liked the chapter!! This somehow ended up being a slow-burn type of thing but oh well :)

and happy new year, dear ones! I hope it’s a good year for all!

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sisterofleatherfrog · 3 years

Text

The Silence Brings Me Home

Hey! This is my first fanfic so I hope you all enjoy it! I was inspired by an illustration I saw of Crosshair sobbing and holding Lula for comfort (which I cannot find for the life of me, if I do eventually I’ll link it). I meant to get his done before ep. 11 Devil’s Deal (and especially before this week’s) because we still didn’t know what Cross looked like at that point, but I’m slow and here we are. There is some fanart I did at the end, I’ve only recently gotten back into drawing after a long time, so it might be a little rough sorry!

Summary: The Batch get Crosshair back, but what he has, and almost done haunts him. Comfort is given in the simplest of ways: by being presen for the healing.

Warnings: Mention of blood/injury, killing/murder. Heavy angst with comfort. Self loathing ideation.The beginnings of a family healing together from trauma.

Word Count: 2188

It was as close as it got to silent within the Havoc Marauder. The ship always faintly hummed as it cruised through space; the engines and various systems constantly working away in the background via a complicated web of technology and wiring, maintained by the Batch’s resident genius. Rumors were, if someone listened close enough as a ship passed through hyperspace, they could faintly hear the sound of the decillions of particles out there passing around the ship. Something like sand blasting the outside of the hull, but with a bell-like, ringing, song. It was that sort of silence that found all six of the inhabitants within the Marauder.

Tech, the aforementioned genius, was nursing a new goose egg on his forehead with a cold compress while attempting to repair a hairline fracture in one of his goggles lenses. Echo sat across from him helping to guide the nearly blind man in his endeavour. Besides a myriad of small cuts and new bruises, Echo’s left leg lay detached and balanced on his lap, waiting for attention from Tech for a recently smoking blaster hole through the calf. Laying in his bunk, Wrecker was also nursing a new blaster wound: the bolt having ripped through his armour and taken a chunk out of his right bicep. He lay quietly, making sure to stay off his wound so the bacta could do its work and trying to process the events of the day. Remembering the adrenaline and the genuine moment of fear he’d had, but smiling nonetheless. Foreword in the front of the ship, Hunter sat quietly, his face kriffing hurting, his nose having to have been reset after being knocked out of joint. He’d definitely taken a beating, he’d be feeling everything that currently hurt fivefold tomorrow, but the wounds could have been worse. Everything could have been much worse. What could have been was an ache that never faded and a silence that was never filled.

Hunter’s gaze slid to the seat beside him, looking at the small girl that had so quickly become a priority in his life. Omega was curled up on the seat, her arms and legs tightly squeezing Lula to her body while her eyes peaked over her knees to watch the blue of hyperspace. She had thankfully missed all the action this time, safely tucked away within the ship by a promise Hunter had made her swear. He looked over at her, thankful she and his vode were all together here, alive, and relatively in one piece. Still needing something to comfort him though, he reached over and ruffled Omega’s short blonde hair. Her eyes, brown like his, slid over to look at him and he could see a small smile curling at the edges of her mouth. She’d been incredibly worried at the state her family had been at their return, seeing them beaten, bloody, bruised, and punctured wasn’t something a kid should ever be exposed to. They were alive though, and…

Hunter turned his head a little, gazing into the back of the ship where, almost hidden in the furthest recess of the bunks, he could see a pair of long, thin legs encased in black armour. Omega followed Hunter’s gaze and that smile wavered some as nervousness played over her face. She was happy her family was alive and she was happy that her fathers’ brother had been brought back, but the fear of all that time being hunted lingered like a dark cloud on the horizon in her mind. Omega knew it wasn’t Crosshair’s fault. The chip wasn’t something that the host could reason with; locking them far away in the back of their own minds. From the little she could get from what she’d heard, he could be mean, but wasn’t inherently malicious. Everything he’d done in his hunt for them under the Empire was a stripped version of himself- the man was gone but the shrewd soldier remained.

…

Waking up in that dingy medbay was one of the most disorientating moments of Crosshair’s life. He was… a man again, something that thought independently from orders given. But good soldiers follow orders. He wasn’t a drone though. But you are a soldier... Yes, he was, but something else guided him, rather than his superiors he’d always looked elsewhere-

“He’s awake!” The call came from nearby, as did the sound of several pairs of feet rushing in. He knew that voice, but reacted on instinct to the people closing in and jerked his head up, ready to defend, no, attack- Hunter was there, the closest, he was one of his targets-

...So follow through.

No!

Revulsion rose so strongly within himself that everything in his mind that wasn’t his own shrank back like frightened animals, leaving him gasping with an acrid taste in the back of his mouth and a feeling of bile rising in his chest. Pitching sideways he landed gracelessly twisted on the metal floor and began heaving, unable to tell if anything came up at all; not able to remember when the last time he ate was, only feeling a burning in his stomach. Hands gently touched his back but he jerked violently, seeking to remove that touch even if it wasn’t a punishment. When was the last time he’d been given that understanding? When had somebody last cared that his body needed tenderness? It felt unnatural to him now, no longer familiar, and painful.

Voices filtered through as the haze of sickness cleared: “...scans indicate the procedure was a complete success and that he should recover the same as us. Crosshair’s reaction is due to something else entirely.” Tech, he’d know that voice always rattling away with statistics and diagnostics. He’d almost silenced it forever with a single shot- how long ago was that? How long had it been since the ion engine had left him broken and the Kaminoans had pieced him back together, fit him with an eye that didn’t quite measure up to his shooting one and left him always a little off balance?

“Crosshair? Vod?” Hunter now, “Are you with us?” Crosshair felt him kneel next to him and could see his concerned face in his peripheral vision now that his initial haze had begun to fade.

He considered himself for a moment now that the remains of whatever had been in his head were gone. “Yes, I’m here.” Physically, but everything felt so strange. He could hear Wrecker roaring something nearby, probably his loud approximation of a greeting, but he made no move to meet it, didn’t (couldn’t) move himself to. At this, Hunter motioned for him and the others to back off a little before speaking again. “That’s good, we finally caught you and your inhibitor chip is gone now. You’re going to be fine, we’ve got you.” Fine? After everything Crosshair really didn’t think so.

…

Despite the best possible outcome the Batch made their way back to the Marauder, from another downed Jedi cruiser they’d managed to locate thanks to Rex, in an unwieldy silence. Back on the ship they all finally began to address their variety of wounds, and Crosshair, seeing this, froze. This was all him. This was his fault. He had hurt his vod, brought them pain, tried to kill them. He felt sick again, felt as if he was dropping out of his body while his heart constricted painfully and began to race in a clumsy gallop. Crosshair stayed where he was in the back of the ship and sat while somebody got it under way, finally feeling the vague reeling in his gut from entering hyperspace.

It was quiet, nobody made a move to approach him yet. He didn’t know if he even wanted one of them to get close. Everything felt so wrong. He was wrong. What he’d done, betrayed and tried to murder his family, all because of an order?! Him, who flicked his toothpicks at commanders and belonged with a group of defective clones, couldn’t defy an order. Kriff him. One simple pull of a trigger and it could have been any one of them. If he hadn't missed, it could have been Tech’s brain matter splattered over the hull of a downed starship. His vod who was so much like an over-eagre younger sibling. Or Wrecker, who Crosshair had teased and soothed in equal measures in his life. Or Echo who, even though he wasn’t modified like the Batch, could never be normal again and Crosshair had learned to respect him as a brother. And Hunter… he couldn’t think it, couldn’t parse a world where he was dead, where he had been responsible for his death.

Kriff him. How did he- how did he go on alongside his brothers when he’d almost done that? When he’d always be haunted by the pitiless voice in his head (his own, that had ordered the death of innocents) that had repeated his mission as a mantra. He could scrub his skin forever with the harsh scourer he used to clean his armour, but this isn’t something he could wash away. Whether it be in the new scars that had accumulated on their bodies, or the cybernetic eye that now greets him in the mirror, there would be no losing this. No taking it back or making it better. He couldn’t- he should-

A black mass came into his sight and he jumped. Lula was being offered to him in two small hands. The girl, what was her name again? She’d spoken to him when they were all in the cell on Kamino together (the last time they were all together where he wasn’t trying to kill the rest of them). She’d told him it wasn’t his fault, had she known what was working against him in his head? It didn’t matter now. The girl-Omega, that was her name- watched him partially hidden behind the tooka doll with the eyes of his brothers.

“Here” She said, her kaminoan accent still strong after all the time she’d been running, “Wrecka’ lets me borrow her when I’m upset, I don’t think he’ll mind if you do too.”

Crosshair looked at the old, scuffed doll and noticed a stitch in grey forming a cuff on it’s left arm. It had been a dumb scuffle over his and Wreckers continual rivalry and it had ended up with Lula getting the worst of it. He’d stayed up all night trying to make his stitches even and neat, not wanting to ruin the doll. He touched those stitches, gently tracing the line they made before gently grasping it and curling forward, needing to wrap the aching sore that was himself around something. Omega slipped onto the seat next to him and leaned into his left, he wanted to flinch away but something about this gave him... grace. He’d ordered the men under him to aim for her fragile little body and yet here she was offering him comfort through it’s support.

What comfort did he deserve though? What did he deserve indeed. Crosshair gazed unseeingly at the floor, trying to piece the parts of him left scattered in a thousand memories together to once again become the man he was before all this. He startled again when another body suddenly pressed itself into his right side. He turned, a masque of death greeted him, etched into a face permanently carved stern, but the eyes- Hunter’s eyes reminded him of the rail-thin cadet he used to be, not built to fight off any clones who wanted to get a piece of him on his own. He wasn’t alone back then though, three other boys were always there to back him up, and they would patch each other’s wounds together in their quarters afterwards. Hunter, their de-facto leader, was always worried about the hits they’d taken, not relaxing until every bump was seen to and bandaged. It was that look again, that same look that said: ‘I’m staying right here until I know my brothers are going to be fine.’

Some more shuffling in the ship Tech and Echo came into view, the latter still short a leg and being supported over to sit across from him. They didn’t say anything, but Tech came and sat in front of Omega on the floor, letting himself rest against Crosshair’s legs. Echo didn’t move to touch him, but remained in his presence just the same and gently smiled, his posture relaxing to lean against the wall of the berth. Just visible from behind a corner, Wrecker gingerly turned over with his injury, meeting Crosshair’s gaze with a smile already there for him. His injury prevented him from rising, but he extended a large hand towards him from his bunk. He was too far to physically reach him, but the gesture translated anyway: ‘I’m here brother, I missed you, I was worried.’

The Marauder sang through hyperspace; no words were spoken by anyone aboard for a long time. But this silence was familiar, and even though he felt a long way from having earned it, Crosshair could understand it perfectly: ‘Welcome home.’

Here’s Crosshair as in the story, I thought it would be really cool if he and Wrecker had matching cybernetic eyes. I gave him his ep. 11 haircut though because it’s cool.

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writing-imagines · 4 years

Text

Jealousy // An Ellie Williams imagine

Possible warnings: drinking, jealousy, pettiness (?), Dina and Jesse are really the only spoilers

Request: Hey!! I was wondering if you could maybe write something where ellie is jealous because the reader has been hanging out with Jesse or Dina a lot. Maybe end it angsty or fluffy (idk it’s up to you (: )

Life in the apocalypse wasn’t easy by any means. You had to face the fact that anytime you left the safety of Jackson’s walls, you could easily be killed. Having to face that fact everyday really took a toll on those who understood it. While yes, you we’re born into the cordyceps infected world and didn’t know much about the world before it, you still struggled standing on death’s doorstep every day. That’s why any chance you got to let lose, you took full advantage.

You sat at the bar, beer in hand, and enjoyed the couples dancing. Some were really good and others were terrible, but they were all having a good time and that’s what made it entertaining. As you went to take another sip of your beer, the bottle was swiftly removed from your hand. Your head quickly shot up and towards your now empty hand. That’s when you found the culprit.

“You think just because you’re my patrol partner you can take my beer?” You raised an eyebrow, making Dina laugh.

“Listen, I just danced my heart out. I deserve a drink.” She smiled behind the bottle before finishing it.

“Seth, we need two more down here.” She half yelled while waving an arm. The old man nodded and pulled out two beer bottles.

“You gonna trade anything for these, Dina?”

“Put them on my tab.” Dina winked at Seth, causing the old man to roll his eyes.

“Cheers to surviving another patrol.”

“To surviving another patrol.” You clanked your bottles together before drinking. The two of you sat and watched the dancers for a few minutes until Dina sat up straight.

“Hey, your girlfriend is here.” She pointed across the room to the open door. You had to look around a few people, but you eventually saw Ellie’s red flannel.

“I’ll be back. Don’t drink my beer!”

You jumped off the barstool and made a beeline to your girlfriend. You almost ran into a few dancing couples, but you eventually made it to Ellie. Without hesitation, you pulled her into a bear hug.

“Hey! I didn’t think you were coming.” You loosened the hug ever so slightly so you could look at your girlfriend.

“I wasn’t planning on it, but I missed you and I knew you’d be here.”

“I missed you too, babe. Come on, I already have a spot at the bar.” You let go of Ellie only to grab her hand and drag her across the dance floor and to the bar.

“Babe, take my seat.” You gestured to the barstool next to Dina and she accepted. You sat down beside Ellie and gently placed your hand on her back.

“Hey Ellie. Didn’t think we’d see you here.” Dina greeted while swirling her beer around.

“Yeah, I wanted to hang out with y/n for a little bit. We may live together, but we don’t see each other much.”

“Why is that? Y/n, your dad runs the scheduling. Why don’t you have him put you two on the same schedule?” Dina raised her eyebrow at you while finishing off her beer.

“My dad does the scheduling for the jobs around town. Maria is the one who does patrols.”

“Then talk to your stepmom about getting you two together! All the other couples work together if they want to. You should be no exception. Seth, I need two more beers! Ellie, you drink beer, right?”

“Not tonight. I have early morning patrol tomorrow.”

“Y/n, you need another one?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Awesome! Seth, where are my beers?” Dina got up and marched to the other end of the bar where Seth was defiantly hiding from her. You couldn’t help but laugh at your friend.

“She’s something else.” You took a sip of your drink, officially finishing it. When Ellie didn’t respond, you noticed the mild scowl on her face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Are you two going to get hammered again?” Her tone said it all. Ellie was pissed.

“I was hoping to have a few drinks, yeah.”

“Okay. Just don’t be obnoxious when you come home. I’m not cleaning up your mess again.” Before you could respond, Dina came back and handed you another beer.

“Thanks Dina.”

“No problem. So Ellie, how’s the North lookout treating you? I’ve heard there’s a lot of infected out there.”

“It’s good. There’s defiantly...”

You tuned out their conversation. She probably didn’t mean to, but Ellie kind of ruined your night with that comment. Most of your time spent with Dina was on patrol, so, you were really looking forward to enjoying the night in the safety of Jackson. You sat quietly and continued to drink a few more beers while Ellie and Dina caught up with each other. Just as you finished your drink, one of your favorite songs came over the loud speakers. At that point, you had just enough to forget Ellie was mad at you and vice versa.

“I love this song. Will you dance with me?” You held Ellie’s hand and looked at her with hopeful eyes. You knew Ellie wasn’t a big fan of dancing, especially to fast songs, but you thought maybe she would try it for you.

“Oh no, I can’t. I’m terrible at dancing.”

“Come on, babe. Pleaseeee.” You held her hand a little tighter and tried to work your puppy dog eyes.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“Come on, y/n. I’ll dance with you.”

Dina jumped up and quickly pulled you onto the dance floor. You and Dina immediately started jumping around and dancing like idiots. You didn’t care how stupid you looked flailing around, you were having so much fun. The song eventually ended and you and Dina fell into each other, both of you laughing uncontrollably and getting a ton of strange looks. You wrapped an arm around each other and swayed back to the bar.

“Man, I love you, y/n. Seriously. You’re one of the best people I know.” Dina slapped your shoulder before leaning against the bar.

“I love you too, D. I-hey, where’d Ellie go?” You quickly spun around and tried to find her in that red flannel.

“She left. Looked pretty upset too.” The guy sitting on the other side of Dina said. Those words were enough to block most of the alcohol in your body. Dina looked at you with a slightly concerned look.

“Looks like you better go find your girl. Can you make it home okay?”

“Yeah. Can you?”

“I’ll be fine. Go get your girl.” Dina slapped your shoulder again before you ran off.

You stumbled through the crowd and eventually out the door. Things started spinning a little, but you had made the exact same walk a dozen times. The only thing that really posed a threat was the wet leaves everywhere. But, you knew you’d be fine if you fell. It took a little time, but you eventually found your way past the mini greenhouses and to Ellie’s. Without hesitation, you opened the door and nearly tumbled in. Once inside, you saw the most heart breaking sight. Ellie was sitting on her bed, head in her hands and trying not to cry.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” You tried to sit down beside her, but Ellie quickly stood up. Her eyes were red and puffy, causing a ache to settle in your chest.

“What’s wrong? Something is going on between you and Dina. That’s what’s wrong.” Your eyes widened at the accusation.

“Ellie, what are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between me and Dina.”

“You think I haven’t picked up on how you two have been acting these past few weeks? You specially requested her to be your new patrol partner, you always get home late from patrols, and you were just flirting with each other at the bar.” Ellie fought back tears as she spoke. Every word sounded like it was her breaking point. You slowly stood up and stepped towards your girlfriend. Much to your surprise, she let you hold her hands and looked you in the eyes.

“Ellie, babe, Dina has been my friend for years. Hell, she’s practically my sister at this point. There’s nothing going on between us. You have nothing to worry about. I swear. You’re the only one I love.” Ellie pulled her hands out of your lose grasp and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You two haven’t spent this much time together since I’ve known you. If nothing is going on, what’s caused you two to spend so much time together recently?” Her tone changed from heartbroken to even more accusatory and that didn’t sit well with you.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because she broke up with Jesse and has a little more free time?” You shrugged, genuinely not knowing (or caring) why Dina was spending more time with you. Ellie dropped her arms to her sides before shrugging.

“Okay, fine.” Her tone wasn’t very convincing and you knew she was annoyed. She tried to playoff her annoyance by casually walking to the dresser and pulling out her sleep clothes.

“You don’t believe me.”

“No, I do.” Once again, Ellie’s tone wasn’t convincing. If anything it conveyed more annoyance.

“Fine.” You walked over to the desk and grabbed your backpack for overnight patrols. You could feel your girlfriend’s eyes on you as you gathered your own sleep clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to stay at my dad’s. I think we need some time apart.” Your tone was harsh, probably the harshest it had ever been with Ellie. You could tell she was worried now.

“You don’t have to do that. We can keep talking this out.”

“What’s the point? You obviously don’t believe me. I can put up with a lot, but I refuse to sleep next to someone who thinks I’m a liar.”

“I don’t think you’re a liar, y/n. Please, put the bag down and let’s talk.” Now her tone was laced with worry as you put on your flannel shirt.

“No. I can’t be around you right now, Ellie.” All bets of you staying where off when you opened the door.

“Please don’t go. I want you here.” The ache settled in your chest again when you heard the hurt in her voice. You took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night. Love you.”

You stepped out into the cold fall night again and made your way to the other side of Jackson. You couldn’t help but notice all the looks you were getting as you walked down the street. After what felt like an eternity, you reached the doorstep of your former home. You softly knocked, hoping your dad would answer.

“Hi y/n. What are you doing here this late?” Maria asked, already in her robe for the night.

“Hey Maria. I um...I was wondering if I could talk to my dad.” You watched as her eyes landed on your backpack.

“Of course. Come inside it’s cold. Tommy, y/n is here for you!” She stepped to the side, allowing you to walk inside the house. Maria placed her hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Is this something you want me to hear? I know how you feel about people knowing your business.”

“It’s nothing personal. This-” she placed her hand up, effectively shutting you up.

“I’ll let you two have your talk. Let me know if you need anything.” Maria walked into the kitchen, leaving you alone until your dad walked downstairs.

“Kiddo, what are you doing here?” Tommy asked as he held his arms out and pulled you into a hug.

“Hey Dad. Do you think I could stay here for the night? Ellie and I kind of got into a fight.” Even though Maria was in another room, you found yourself whispering. Tommy quickly pulled away, his smile was replaced by a puzzled look.

“Of course you can. Is everything okay between you two?”

“I don’t know.” That lump in your throat returned and you try to hold back your unexpected tears.

“Hey, it’s okay. Did you eat dinner?”

“No, but I’m not hungry. I really want to lay down actually.”

“Okay. Here, I’ll take your bag.”

Tommy helped slip the bag off your shoulders and started towards the stairs. You followed him even though you knew where he was going. You followed him upstairs and down the hallway to the last door on the right.

“We haven’t changed it since you moved out.” Your dad opened the door, revealing your childhood bedroom. He wasn’t lying, everything still looked like you remembered.

“Brings back memories.” You couldn’t help but smile as memories from your childhood and teenage years came flooding back.

“You remember that time Dina put her foot through the wall?” Tommy walked over to the far side of the room and pointed at a discolored portion of blue paint.

“Yeah. She was trying to do a handstand and fell backwards.” You both chuckled at the memory, but your smile faded when you remembered why you were back in your childhood bedroom.

“Man, you two were always getting into something when you were younger.” He said with a soft laugh.

“Yeah, we always had a good time.” You sat down on your old mattress and let out a sigh. Tommy walked back to you and carefully sat down on the bed.

“You wanna tell me what happened with Ellie?”

“She thinks something is going on between me and Dina because we’ve been spending more time together. I told Ellie I didn’t love Dina, I only loved her. I could tell she didn’t believe me and that made me mad. So, I packed my bag and I came here because I didn’t want to be around someone who thinks I’m a liar.” You let out a sniffle as a tears attempted to roll down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them away and looked down at the old hardwood floor.

“Kiddo, I’m sure Ellie doesn’t think you’re a liar. She’s probably just really upset at the moment. You both need to cool off for a minute and then talk this out.” Tommy wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you a little closer.

“I don’t understand. I used to run around with Dina for days and Ellie was fine with it. What changed?”

“That’s something you’re going to have to ask her yourself. Remember, that girls been through a lot, more than anyone should ever have to go through. If you both take your time and be patient with each other this will all be fixed.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. It’s the look of love if I’ve ever seen it.” That made you feel a sense of pride, enough to make you smile a little.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“No need to thank me. This is just part of parenthood. Now, I’m going to leave you alone so I can get some sleep.” Your dad lightly tapped your shoulder in an attempt to be supportive before slowly standing up.

“Jesus the bed is hard. Good luck sleeping on it.”

“I slept on it for years. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Night, kiddo. Sleep tight.”

“Night, Dad.”

Tommy finally left your room, closing the door behind him. You let out a sigh and actually felt a little better, albeit tired. You decided to change into your sleep clothes while you still felt a little better about the situation. You had to admit that it felt weird doing your nighttime routine without Ellie there to make conversation with. Once you were changed, you slid into the old bed and hoped to get some sleep.

Instead of falling asleep right away, you thought of the first time Ellie snuck over. You were fifteen and she wanted to show you a knife she found while on patrol. She ended up sleeping over and you two talked about anything and everything. That was the first time you felt feelings towards her. The painful ache returned to your chest the longer you thought about it. You forced yourself to shut your brain off and eventually fall asleep.

You woke up the next morning with a mild headache and a growling stomach. With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed and out into the hallway. Just before you reached the stairs you heard Joel’s voice. You tiptoed closer to the stairs until you could barely see your dad and uncle at the kitchen table.

“So, Ellie’s pretty heartbroken about this?” Your dad questioned while eating his breakfast.

“Yeah, she is. She showed up on my doorstep at one in the morning and asked to talk for a bit. She hasn’t wanted to talk to me like that in years.”

“What did she have to say?”

“She said she was really upset about y/n leaving. Felt like crying for a while, but decided to talk to someone instead. She talked about some other stuff too.” Joel paused and took a drink from his mug.

“Like what, Joel?”

“You know, getting married and moving out of the garage. She thought they were ready for that, but this little mess has her thinking otherwise.”

You had to stop yourself from gasping at that revelation. You knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Ellie and move out of the garage someday, but you had no idea she actually wanted to get married. Realizing the severity of this small fight increased tenfold, you decided it was time to go home. Cautiously, you went back to your bedroom, changed into your jeans, shirt, and flannel from the previous day, and mentally prepared yourself to face your family.

“Look who’s up.” Tommy greeted as you walked down the stairs. Joel looked at you with a somewhat stern look that was usually reserved for Ellie.

“Morning, Dad. Morning, Uncle Joel.”

“Hey, kid.” His stern look stayed, even as he took another drink from the mug. You adjusted your backpack, feeling a little uneasy about the situation you got yourself into.

“Where you running off to? Too good to hang out with your dad and uncle?”

“Of course not. I figured I better get home and take care of some things.” Tommy and Joel gave each other a look, making you feel even more uneasy.

“How much of our conversation did you hear?” Your uncle looked at you for a moment before reaching into his jacket pocket. A small part of you was worried you were about to be shot or stabbed. If that was going to be your last moment, you wanted to be honest.

“All of it. That’s why I’m going home, so I can work things out with Ellie.”

“You might want to take this. It’ll at least get your foot in the door.” Joel finally pulled his hand out of his pocket and revealed Ellie’s switchblade. Your eyes widened in surprise since Ellie rarely let it out of her sight.

“Well, go on. She’ll give up eventually and leave for patrol.” Joel held the switchblade out for you to take. You carefully took it and placed in in your jeans pocket.

“Wish me luck. If she stabs me don’t punish her. I probably deserved it.” Your joke didn’t totally stick, but both men gave you a halfhearted smile.

“Good luck, kiddo. If things don’t work out you can always move back in.” It was a sweet gesture, but you really didn’t want to move back in with your dad and stepmother.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

You hastily left the house, determined to make it back home before Ellie left. After running through town you reached the garage you could see Ellie through the door window, searching for something. You placed your hand on the door handle, but paused before twisting it. We’re you allowed to just walk in after a fight? You pulled your hand away and knocked instead.

“Come in!” You slowly stepped in, expecting her to turn around. Instead, she continued to rummage through her desk drawer.

“You don’t have to say it, Jesse. I know I’m late. I can’t find my switchblade.” You stood there practically frozen. What exactly were you suppose to say in situations like this?

“Uh...it’s me.” Ellie stopped searching and looked over her shoulder. You gave her a small smile and in return she finally turned around to face you.

“Hey. I uh...I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Sorry. I found your switchblade in my bag. I knew you’d want it for patrol.” You pulled the switchblade out of your pocket and walked towards her. When you were a few steps away, Ellie held out her hand, silently telling you to keep your distance. You handed her the switchblade and felt the awkwardness in the room intensify as you both stood in silence.

“Thanks for bringing it back. Now I can finally go on patrol.” Ellie stepped to the side and walked past you. You knew you couldn’t let her go out into the world where she could possibly die without talking things out first.

“We need to talk about last night before you go.” You forced yourself to turn around and look at Ellie. It took her a moment, but your girlfriend eventually turned around to face you.

“What is there to talk about? We fought, you left and now you’re back. We’re fine.” She shrugged, trying not to show she was still upset about this whole thing.

“We are not fine. Come on, talk to me, Ellie.” You carefully approached her and much to your surprise again, Ellie let you hold her hands.

“I’m jealous of Dina. There, are you happy now?” Ellie barely looked you in the eye as she spoke. She also let go of your hands and quickly crossed her arms over her chest.

“Babe, why are you jealous of her?”

“Like I said...she gets to spend a lot of time with you and I don’t. She’s also really pretty.” Ellie nervously bit her lip and rocked back and forth slightly.

“I’ll talk to Maria about maybe scheduling us for the same patrols or at least have us both work mornings. That way we’re both home at the same time.” Ellie finally shifted her gaze from the floor to you.

“I’d like that, but I realized it’s unfair for me to ask you to stop hanging out with Dina. You guys have been friends since before I got here.”

“She’ll understand. After all, she did pretty much abandon me the first month she was dating Jesse.” You chuckled at the memory while Ellie smiled at you. It felt amazing seeing her smile again.

“So...are we good?” Part of you was nervous that she would say ‘no’ and your relationship was permanently damaged. The other part was certain things were finally mended.

“Yeah, we’re good.” That was all the confirmation you needed to pull Ellie into a hug. A smile crept across both your faces as you held one another. Ellie pulled away just enough to fit her arms between you that way she could hold your face in her hands.

“You know, you never denied that Dina was pretty.” She tried to give you a serious look, but ended up looking adorable.

“I can’t deny it because she is pretty. She’s not my type though. I only like girls who are interested in space, comic books, guitars, and who are immune to a certain virus that turns people into walking fungus.” Ellie tried hard to fight her growing smile, but failed miserably. You didn’t even try to hide your amusement.

“You’re such a sap.”

“Yeah, but I’m your sap.”

Like a scene out of a movie, you looked each other in the eyes for a brief moment before leaning in for a kiss. The kiss was sweet at first, but after a few moments things heated up. Ellie’s hands found their way up to your hair, effectively pulling you impossibly close together. Just as you took off your flannel there was a knock at the door.

“Ellie? You in there?” Jesse’s muffled voice called out. You quickly jumped apart, both breathing heavy.

“Shit. Yeah, I’m in here! Just give me a minute!”

“Take your time. It’s not like you’re missing work or anything.” Ellie rolled her eyes and let out a groan.

“I guess we’ll pick this up later?” You asked, straightening out your shirt.

“Definitely. I’ll get back as soon as I can.” Ellie turned around to finally leave for patrol. She only made it a few steps before you grabbed her wrist. Ellie stopped and turned to face you.

“Be careful out there. I can’t lose you after I just got you back.” Your girlfriend smiled before leaning in and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“I’ll always come back to you.”

“I love you, Ellie.”

“I love you too, y/n. See you later.”

“See you later.” She leaned in and gave you another kiss on the cheek.

Ellie finally reached the door and was promptly greeted by Jesse sporting a raised eyebrow.

“And what took you so long?”

“I was busy. Now, let’s go.”

Ellie and Jesse left, officially leaving you alone. You walked over to your bed and laid down, enjoying the feeling of being back in your own home. Just as you closed your eyes for a moment of rest from the emotional rollercoaster you had been on for the past ten hours, there was a knock at your window. You turned your head to see Dina waving furiously.

“Let’s go get breakfast!” Her muffled voice came through the window. For a moment, you considered not going since Ellie told you her feelings about you spending time with Dina. But, Ellie did say it would be selfish of her to ask you to not hang out with your longtime friend. What could one breakfast together hurt anyway? You quickly climbed out of bed and met Dina outside.

“Hey, D. What’s up?”

“I think you know what’s up. You really think you could get into a fight with Ellie and not tell me about it?” Dina placed her hands on her hips and tried to look angry at you.

“How’d you find out?”

“People in this town talk, y/n. Come on, you can tell me all the details over breakfast. I’m starving and hungover. Not a great combination.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

You threw your hands up in a surrendering way before walking with Dina to the bar. It was going to be a long morning, but after the drama you had just been through, you were ready for anything.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams x male reader #dina tlou x reader #tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us imagine #the last of us part 2 imagine #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us part ii

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writemekpop · 4 years

Text

Soaked | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Summary: A shiver of electricity coursed through your body as you realised that your crush was standing next to you, dripping wet and completely naked.

Word Count: 1.8k

It was a Friday night, and you were back in the NCT dorms. But it wasn’t your childhood friend Yuta who had drawn you here, it was something else. Or should you say, someone else.

The first time you saw Jaehyun in person, your heart did a somersault. You’d seen his face numerous times in videos, but a screen could not do justice to this man’s beauty. He was tall, gorgeous and stylish, and you wanted nothing more than to press kisses to his full cheeks and glorious dimples.

You’ve never shared your secret feelings with Yuta, too scarred from having been teased for past crushes before. That being said, you wouldn’t say you were subtle about your affections towards Jaehyun. Sometimes, you’d find yourself staring at his pink lips or his deep eyes, only to be jolted out of your reverie by a sharp nudge in your ribs, delivered by a laughing Yuta.

Tonight, you were playing Monopoly with Yuta, Jaehyun and Haechan. “HAHA pay up hyung! That’s what you get for landing on my hotel!” Haechan screeched at Jaehyun. Jaehyun begrudgingly handed over the last of his fake money. “Haechan, you win,” he said, getting up. “I’m going to take a shower”.

You watched as Jaehyun lifted his long arms above his head to stretch. The movement lifted his black T shirt, revealing a few inches of pale skin. You stared, mouth agape, at the hard lines of his abs and followed the light trail of hair that went from his belly button and dipped below the belt of his jeans. Jaehyun noticed you staring, his cheeks turning a dusted pink.

You dragged your eyes away from his torso to find him staring intently at you, his plump lips parted slightly. Noticing his intense gaze, you quickly looked away, feeling a warmth spreading up your face. Haechan, having noticed the change in atmosphere, was inspecting the hem of his shirt as if it was the most captivating item in the world.

Suddenly, a panicked looking Doyoung burst into the room. “Guys!” he cried, “I just got a text! The manager is on his way to the dorm right now!” He turned and looked at you, his large eyes brimming with terror. “You’ve got to hide. We can’t get caught with girls in the dorm again!"

“Again?” you exclaimed, raising your eyebrow incredulously.

“There’s no time to discuss this now, hurry!” Doyoung cried. As you ran down the corridor you saw a frantic and shirtless Taeil burst out of one door and fall through another, closely followed by two girls who looked like they belonged on the Victoria’s Secret runway. Your mouth fell open in shock as you stared at Yuta, who just shrugged his shoulders and grinned.

As you went to hide in Yuta’s room, he stopped you. “There’s nowhere to hide in there,” he said, looking shifty. “I’ve got a much better idea.” Yuta took your hand in his and dragged you towards the bathroom.

“You need to hide in the shower,” Yuta said, “it’s the only place the manager won’t look”. You could hear the sound of running water, and the air was warm and steamy. Your eyes went wide as you realised who was behind those flimsy shower curtains. The water shut off then, and Jaehyun’s head poked around the curtain, his brown hair dripping, droplets running down his strong jaw.

Yuta lifted you into the tub with Jaehyun. “Be quiet and stay put,” he said to you, “I’ll let you know when the manager’s gone”. And just like that, Yuta ran out of the door with a devilish smirk on his face.

A shiver of electricity coursed through your body as you realised that your crush was standing next to you, dripping wet and completely naked.

You slowly turned to face Jaehyun, who was staring at you with a mixture of shock and embarrassment. He opened his mouth to speak, but hearing the door open, your hand flew to his mouth to stop him. The manager’s voice rang out into the room. “Who’s there?” he asked.

You looked up at Jaehyun, silently pleading with him to play along. The tips of his ears had gone bright pink, and his breath was hot against your hand. “I said who’s there?” Impatience tugged at the manager’s voice.

As you stared into Jaehyun’s unreadable brown eyes, your heart sunk. He wouldn’t give you away, would he?

Just as you were about to give up hope, you felt Jaehyun’s lips turn up into a smile under your clasped hand. The corners of his eyes crinkled warmly, and you marvelled at how his face transformed into one of such beauty. You nodded at him and removed your hand from his mouth.

Jaehyun poked his head out of the curtain to talk to the manager, pinning you against the wall in the process. Because of the strange angle, you had a clear view of the muscles of Jaehyun’s back, which were well defined and glistening under the harsh white lighting. You felt guilty for staring at Jaehyun exposed like this, but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away.

“It’s just me hyung,” Jaehyun said.

“You’re showering, right?” the manager replied. “Well, get on with it then”.

“Um… yeah,” Jaehyun stuttered. He turned around to get at the tap, silently mouthing an apology as he turned it back on. The searing water sprayed out from the shower head, soaking you both. When the manager finally left the bathroom, you both sighed with relief.

The running water drenched your hair and made your clothes stick to your skin. Your eyes wandered over to Jaehyun, who was preoccupied by staring at the soaked straps of your dress. His bold gaze made your cheeks burn. Why were you feeling shy when he was the one who was naked? Now that he was distracted, you finally let your eyes rake over the entirety of his form.

Standing so close to him, you realised just how broad and strong Jaehyun was. You moved your eyes down to his collar bones, where a small pool of liquid lay nuzzled next to his creamy neck. You traced a line of droplets that ran down the planes of his muscles, falling into the hollow of his navel.

You felt dizzy as you let your eyes wander further down, following the V-shaped outline on his lower abdomen and down to his… “Hey!” Jaehyun’s voice snapped you out of your haze. Your eyes flicked up to his face, which was looking a lot less composed. His cheeks sported pink orbs which matched the tips of his ears.

“Let’s turn around,” Jaehyun said, his hands moving to cover himself. You agreed, and the two of you turned so that you were back to back. You stood there in silence, which gradually shifted from awkward to comfortable. You were enjoying the feel of his hard back against yours, and the warm water felt nice on your bare arms.

After a few moments Jaehyun said, “By the way… I listened to that song you recommended… it was really nice”. The last time you were here, you had mentioned a song in attempt to extend your conversation with the beautiful boy.

“I knew you’d like it!” you reply, “As soon as I heard it, I thought of you”. You cringed as you realised how cheesy that sounded. You couldn’t see this, but Jaehyun smiled at your comment, dimples forming on his puffy cheeks. You had always found that if you could calm your racing heart, conversations with Jaehyun were genuinely interesting.

You and Jaehyun spoke about everything and nothing, and eventually so much time had passed that the water ran cold. You shivered as you realised that the warmth in your heart was not enough to heat your body.

Suddenly, you felt Jaehyun’s wet hands on your shoulders, slowly rubbing up and down. Your eyes widened as the atmosphere grew hot under the chill water. Jaehyun pulled you closer and wrapped his arm around your chest; you felt his breath hot on your ear.

You slowly turned around to face Jaehyun. One of his arms worked its way down from its place on your shoulder and held your hand, swinging it lightly as his fingers intertwined with yours. “I’m kind of glad it worked out like this,” Jaehyun said, pouting his lips cutely. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve liked you for a while” he said.

You were at a loss for words. All this time he had liked you back? Too flustered to speak, you just smiled up at him and gave his hand a warm squeeze.

Jaehyun’s gaze fell on your lips as he began to lean forward. This was finally happening! You moved on to your tip toes as Jaehyun came closer, the water dripping over his plump lips. You put your free hand on his chest to stabilise yourself. Just as you felt the ghosting of his lips on yours, a thud from the direction of the door caused the two of you to jump apart.

The next second, the shower curtains were viciously yanked back, revealing an incredulous looking Doyoung. You had to admit that it was an odd sight to see: you in a soaked sun dress and Jaehyun naked, both of you looking flushed despite the cold water that kept running.

“Why are you still here?” Doyoung asked. “The manager left twenty minutes ago! Didn’t Yuta come and tell you?”. You gasped at the audacity of your Japanese friend. You and Jaehyun stared at each other for a second and then burst into laughter.

“I’m going to kill him!” you said, still trying to quell your laughs. Jaehyun smiled then, his deep-set dimples beautifully on show. “I’m not so sure you should,” Jaehyun said, “I can think of a lot of worse people to be stuck in the shower with.” His eyes were twinkling in the light.

“Maybe we could prank Yuta back,” you said “…together”. You whispered the last word, shyly meeting Jaehyun’s gaze.

“I’d like that,” Jaehyun replied, his voice soft and low. He took your hand in his, and the two of you stepped out of the tub. Yuta had no idea what was coming for him.

---

MASTERLIST

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fuckingthefictional · 4 years

Text

All I want- (part one)

Michael Gray x reader

Written version of this gifset that I made, bonus points for anyone who can find the lyrics to a certain song that inspired this.

Next Chapter is found —> here

For @finallyforgotten who wanted more of this :)

Henry used to be Y/N’s knight in shining armour. He was always there, he was perfect and filled her up with all the love that she could possibly want or need.

He used to tell Y/N that she was a star in his eyes, he’d hold the door open for her and hold her hand in the dark.

He was just always there.

And Y/N felt as if she was never alone. Until one day she was.

When Henry suddenly left, it caused a brewing storm to swirl inside of the pit of the young woman’s stomach.

But when Y/N brought it up with her mother, the only claim was that “men like Henry were perfect on paper, but they lie to the face.”

It frustrated her- did Henry think she was the kind of girl who needed to be saved. Is that why he took such interest in her? Because she was an easy target?

All of these questions just created more stress and sadness to strike Y/N’s body. She didn’t know who to trust or believe anymore.

It didn’t matter what she conjured up in her mind- All that stood was that Henry had left and with him he took Y/N’s heart.

But he’d left something with her, something that he didn’t know about. And that was his child- the same child that grew within Y/N.

“Ticket ma’am?”

Y/N looked up from her book to see a portly looking train conductor stood in front of her.

“Yes, sorry.” She reached down to her pocket and pulled out the slip of paper, handing it to the gentleman.

He inspected it for a moment, before puncturing a hole into the side, “Are you sure you’re meant to be taking a single to London miss?”

Y/N’s heart leapt up into her throat, “Yes, my mother purchased the ticket for me, I’m to meet my cousin at the station.” She rambled on.

The train conductor passed the slip of paper back, “if you say so.” He mumbled before walking away.

It was only half true, Y/N mused, she was meeting her cousin at the station and her mother did purchase the ticket for her. But she was going to London indefinitely, to have her baby out of the prying eyes of her neighbours.

As her father said before she left, ‘she and her cousin could be the family disgraces together’.

Y/N watched as the world went past, flashes of green melted into a drab mix of greys.

Her new life was moments away, as the train pulled into King’s cross station.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N heaved down her luggage (careful to avoid her stomach region) and began to disembark off the steam engine.

She scanned around frantically, praying that she hadn’t been stood up by her cousin.

“Y/N!”

Whipping around at the sound of her name, she came face to face with her older cousin.

James, wasn’t much older than she was. He was a few years older than she (but he took great pride in bragging about it and holding it over her head).

In fact it had been a good few years since Y/N had even seen James, as he was banned from the family when he was 17.

After he was caught in bed with another male- it meant nothing to Y/N then and nothing to her now.

He was happy, if he found love in the arms of a man then who was she to judge? - she was 17, pregnant and unmarried.

“James!” The pair embraced, swaying as the did so.

“Come on,” the man exclaimed, “we can talk more when we get home.” And with that he picked up the luggage and guided her through the station.

“So how come you’ve suddenly decided to come and live with me hmm?”

Y/N paused, debating on what to say but ultimately deciding that there was no point in hiding it at this point.

“I’m pregnant.” She spoke, “and father is ready to disown me so, they sent me to you.”

“Jesus Y/N/N you’re 17,” he rubbed his face with his hands, “You’re practically a child yourself.”

Y/N felt her body shake, “you know if I had a bobbin for every time someone has said that to me, I’d be a fucking millionaire,” she laughed without humour, “I’m going to be a mother james, and every single time someone says what you said, I become more determined to be a good mum.”

“Y/N sit down for a second and stop ranting.” James pointed opposite to the chair she’d previously been occupying, “What I was going to say was that you’re young, so you’re going to need all the support you can get. Which is why I’m going to be here for you every step of the way.”

Months later, Y/N was nearing the last month of her pregnancy.

It wasn’t an overreaction to say that she was big. She felt like a bloated whale.

But the young mother found herself getting support from both James and Ada.

God, Y/N was so thankful for Ada. She was the most genuine, caring and hardworking woman that Y/N had ever met.

They’d become great friends ever since they had first met.

The older woman was understanding, but not disconcerting. Loving, but not in a smothering sort of way. Supportive and just damn genuine.

Ada became like the older sister she never had growing up, and the latter was but all happy to take on that role.

She was the one that Y/N could confide in- even about Henry.

“What about the father?”

Y/N looked down, tears already pooling in her eyes, “He’s a boy from my past.” She sniffled,”We fell in love but it didn’t last.”

Ada looked sympathetic, “What happened?”

Y/N found herself shrugging, “It was just like- the second I figured it out he pushed me away,” she steadied her voice, “And I won’t fight for love if he won’t meet me half way- I won’t do it Ada. And I say that I’m through with him, but here I am talking and crying over him.”

Y/N looked at her friend who seemed to be waiting for her to carry on, “All I want it a good guy,” she stated, “Are my expectations far to high? Is there something wrong with me for wanting that?”

Ada just leant forwards, placing her hands on top of Y/N’s shaking ones, “Look- I’ve been through all of these questions. There’s nothing wrong with you okay- I mean look at you Y/N,” she pointed at the other girl’s body, “You’re trying your best at the end of the day, you’re not alone, you have me, Karl, James and Your own child and that is enough for me. You should be proud.”

It was through Ada that Y/N met Thomas Shelby for the first time- which at the time she hadn’t known but would become her future employer.

What was there to say about Thomas Shelby. He was intimidating, he demanded the power of the room. And his eyes- God his eyes. They were piercing blue and just made you cold by looking at them.

The first time Y/N had met the man, she swore she could feel her child squirm inside her, almost as if they were turning away in comfort.

But Ada soon set the record straight, reassuring her brother that Y/N was trusted by her and that the younger girl was a close friend.

The second time that Tommy and Y/N ran into each other was quite literally so. Y/N had been going out for walks (something recommended by her doctor), she was due any day at that point.

She’d been walking in her own little world, fantasising about what her child would look like. Whether they would have Henry’s unruly curls or her eyes.

And then she walked into a wall. A rather tall, slim wall. That spoke with a Brummie accent...and wore a pocket watch.

It was by then that Y/N had realised that it wasn’t actually a brick wall she’d stumbled into. But in fact Thomas Shelby.

Immediately you had stuttered an apology, explaining why you had been so out of it.

He took one look at you. A quick up and down. Before he spoke, “When’re you due?”

The answer caught Y/N completely off guard, she had been expecting a threat for scuffing up his shoes.

“Um, actually I’m due any day now.” She stammered, rubbing her belly lovingly. It was strange really- just how quick she’d grown to love the life inside of her.

The Brummie hummed in understanding, “I remember when Ada was that far along with Karl- a right bloody firecracker she was.”

Y/N smiled slightly, it sure sounded like Ada.

“Listen- Ada would ‘ave my bollocks on a silver platter if I didn’t walk you back to the ‘ouse,” Tommy licked his lips, “So.” He gestured to the arm he was holding out.

“Thank you Mr Shelby.” Y/N said, holding on his arm as they walked the last few streets.

“Tommy- call me Tommy.”

Matthew James Johnson was born kicking and screaming on the 14th of February at exactly 2 o’clock in the morning.

He weighed in at 6 pounds and 4 ounces and was everything Y/N could’ve ever imagined or hoped for.

As predicted Matthew held a head full of soft, blonde curls (just like his father) and his eyes were her own Y/E/C. He was just the perfect little mix of her and Henry.

And even though it broke her heart at first, she eventually began to see it as a blessing. Her baby was someone who she would love forever, who she would never let down.

A months later Y/N strolled into the apartment angrily. She was turned out of a job, yet again. It felt like it was becoming an impossible feat.

She was simply just unemployable, which angered her hugely.

Y/N was a mother for Christ’s sake, she had a baby who depended on her. How on earth was she supposed to do that for someone if she couldn’t even get a steady stream of income coming through the door.

Matthew was around 8 months old now, he was a troublemaker- but still managed to capture his mother’s heart at every glance. He made Y/N’s life worth it, he really did.

Slamming the large door behind her, she shrugged off her coat and hung it up on the coat rack. There was another that had been added to the normal pile.

Ada’s family must’ve been visiting again. She quietly crept through the hallway, attempting to stay out of the eyes of the Shelby family.

It would’ve worked mind you- if Matthew hadn’t spotted you through the crack in the doorway.

“Ma-ma-ma.” He babbled happily from the floor.

Y/N walked in almost guiltily, scooping up her baby boy from the carpet and planting a soft kiss on his rosy red cheeks.

Ada stopped mid conversation and looked up at Y/N hopefully, “So?”

“Turned away.” The young mother answered frustratedly, “It getting tiring now Ada, I-“

“Ada love, are you going to introduce me to your friend?” The voice came from a stern looking woman.

“Pol,” Ada turned the woman, “This is Y/N- James’ cousin and a close friend of mine.” She turned to the girl who was still holding the wriggling baby, “And this is Matthew, Y/N’s baby boy and my godson.”

Polly was stared intently at the boy in Y/N’s arms. The stare itself was calculating and judgemental but Y/N felt...oddly safe around the woman.

“He’s a beautiful boy,” She spoke softly, “reminds me of my Michael when he was this size.”

Y/N just smiled awkwardly, she had no clue who Michael was, she cleared her throat, asking timidly “Would you like to hold him?”

The older woman opened her arms for the child, and when Matthew was safe in them he gurgled happily.

The door creaked open again, this time Tommy walked through the frame.

The pair had actually become quite good friends of the past months. There was nothing romantic, or remotely sexual about their relationship. It was just a friendship.

Tommy was an the older brother, he kept and eye out and looked out for the girl and her son.

“Y/N.” He nodded to the girl, “When did you get in?”

“Just now,” she replied, “Job interview ran over.”

“And?” He prompted, hand digging in his blazer pocket for a cigarette.

“No smoking around the children Tommy- you know the rules,” Y/N reminded him, “And it didn’t go well- they turned me away.”

Tommy appeared to be deep in thought, “My fiancé is due to have a baby in May.” He paused again, “If you’d accept- I’d be happy to hire you as the baby’s nanny.”

“But Matthew-“

“Can stay with you while you work, it’s only a matter of balancing your family life and work life.”

“Has your fiancé agreed with this arrangement?” Y/N folded her arms.

“She will, she trusts me- and I trust you.” Tommy looked deeply at you, “So?”

“Okay.” The young woman looked at Ada, “I’ll do it.”

#peaky blinders #peakyfookinblinder #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peakyblinder #michaelgrayxreader #michael gray x reader #micheal gray #michael gray

232 notes · View notes

seodami · 3 years

Text

Our story | LSM

Part 2

This is our story. From the day we met till the day we part. Black on white, our most precious moments, never leaving us. I love your forever.

LSM

Genre: Fluffffff

Warnings: none

Word count: 2271

Pairing: Idol!Lee Seokmin x fashion student reader

Note: Here is the second part and I have to say I really enjoyed writing this, imagining how easy and funny it must be to talk to DK :)) what would I do to talk to him once :’) Enjoy!

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You both were frozen in your tracks for a moment, you still panicking about what to say or do and him wondering why there was a stranger in his kitchen.

Seokmin hadn’t been feeling well since yesterday evening so since he was feeling even worse this morning, Seungcheol and his manager wanted him both to stay home for at least today until he felt better. He wasn’t exactly keen on staying in an empty apartment alone all day, especially when he wanted to be a part of their schedule. It often made him feel lonely and miss his members. It was stupid honestly, he thought. He saw them everyday and often needed his alone time at times, but he still felt so empty without anyone around.

He was still sleeping when he faintly heard the doorbell ring. Yet he thought it was just in his dream. But when he soon later slowly woke up due to noices from the kitchen, Seokmin wondered if their aunty might have come and would make him a warm soup for his sore throat.

So with still messy hair and puffy face, he made his way over to the kitchen with tiny steps, just to be greeted by a strange face of a girl he never saw.

“O-oh my god. I’m so sorry. I thought no one was home?” You stuttered out totally embarrassed to actually be caught. That was your doom day. Dokyeom found the rambling rather endearing, yet he cautiously made his way over to the kitchen aisle, you were working on.

It took you by huge surprise how handsome and cute this man could look at the same time. Were all idols this pretty?

“Uhm... hi... I don’t want to sound rude but I really... have no idea who you are.” The boy a few feet away from you came to an halt. His voice was a tad hoarse and he sounded a bit sick. He let out a shy chuckle, clearly feeling somewhat uncomfortable in this situation.

Little did you know, the little voice in his head was laughing at him how ridiculous and ugly he must’ve looked with his bare face right after bed. Seokmin had always had his insecurities about his body or face. He never seemed to fully like the way he looked. He would cringe so much looking back at his old childhood pictures, when he had a few pounds too much on him. It just never dawned him how his fans would call him handsome. Most of the times he would just smile and thank them but never really accepting their compliments, thinking it must be the good make up or the stylish hair. Yes, that must be it.

And now standing in front of a pretty woman, he felt it in every fibre of his body and it made him unbelievably uncomfortable.

“Oh... Right... I am Oh Jangmi’s daughter. Nice to meet you.” You quickly muttered, not daring to look him in his eyes for more than a second. You bowed as you typically did, seeing him bow as well.

“Oh aunties daughter? She told us a lot about you. Nice to finally meet you. I’m Dokyeom.” His uncomfortable face was immediately replaced by the brightest smile, you had ever seen. You swear, in that moment, your heart melted in an instant. You heard your heart beating loudly in your ears, unable to grasp this mans beauty. Never ever have you seen such a dazzling smile in person.

“Is aunty not coming today?” He asked curiously leaning against the other side of the aisle. He was way too close for your liking. And you were definitely still panicking. This man was more than gorgeous.

You shook your head, noticing his hoarse voice. “No unfortunately s-she broke her foot on the way here and went to the hospital. So she... asked me to step in for her. She will be coming tomorrow again though.” You completed your sentence while only taking short glances at the male in front of you, who was giving you 100% of his attention. You were more than flustered.

A worried expression replaced his smile. “Oh no... is she alright?” Your heart made a small jump.

You nodded with a small smile, fiddling with potato in your hand. He noticed and hummed. “Do you need help cooking? I mean... I’m not the best but I can chop vegetables without chopping my fingers off I guess.” He smiled at you once more. If he would keep smiling like that, you swear, you wouldn’t be able to see tomorrow.

You let out a small giggle, still denying his offer. “Ah no... it’s fine really. I’m just making jajangmyeon. And you sound like you’ve caught a cold so I won’t be bothering you with doing anything.”

You quickly placed the potato in your hand on the cutting board and started slicing it into small cubes.

“Yeah I actually did. It’s not really pleasant to be honest.” Dokyeom said before caughting in his elbow as on queue.

“Wait a second. I’m gonna make you a tea. I’m a pro in dealing with colds, trust me.” You insisted, already reaching for the water boiler to fill it up with fresh water.

“Thank you. You really don’t have to though.” He giggled coughing again.

“No I want to. I’m sure you will feel better after this tea. I made it every time my siblings were ill.” You smiled at him, feeling already a tad more comfortable with this man, you literally just met.

Seokmin took a seat in one of the high chairs on his side of the kitchen aisle while watching you chop the vegetables. He noticed how soft your hair looked like, falling gently onto your face. He took his phone out to check his messages. There were just a few from his manager about their usual schedule and some silly messages in their group chat. He softly giggled reading through all of them, wondering how he even got friends like this.

You couldn’t help stealing short glances here and there at the beautiful man, noticing how he swept his fluffy bed hair with one hand out of his face. Something about him was immensely attractive and you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was. But hell no, you were not going to develop a crush on a man you literally met one time. Nope. All idols would probably have this effect on you, right? They weren’t idols without a reason.

Soon enough you finished Dokyeoms tea with a last pinch of fresh mint leaves and handed it over to him with a smile. He thanked you, white teeth showing and crescent eyes forming. Melting, definitely melting.

“Wow... It’s very good.” He carefully slurped from the warm tea. You sent him a bright smile, deep down thanking your tea making skills you’ve even improved thanks to your job at the café. That was definitely a pro from working there.

“I sometimes work in a small café, so I had plenty of time to practice. I probably could make you every drink you want.” You laughed while taking out a frying pan to avoid his interested eyes following your every movement.

His laugh mused in with yours. “I always wanted to know someone, who could just magically let all the drinks I wanted appear in my kitchen. Thank god I stayed at home today.”

You both were pleasantly surprised how easy talking to each other was. There was a spark of fun in your conversation, which you both couldn’t get enough of. There weren’t many people you knew, If any, who you just clicked with so easily. It was definitely weird but you liked it.

“The food will still take a bit so you are free to make one more drink wish.” You chuckled, glancing over at Dokyeom leaning his head in the palm of his hand.

A genuine smile was displayed across his lips. “Mhh I have to think, this is a very important desicion, I don’t want to make a mistake.” You both snickered in unison. My god, how were you getting along so well with him?

“Alright, you still have exactly 28 minutes and a half to decide.”

“How generous, I will think about it.” His smile was even brighter now, it was impossible not to smile. There was just something about it that gave you an enormous serotonin boost and transformed you into one of these giggly anime Highschool girls. The bad thing was, you didn’t even remember acting that was after experiencing such a rush of being in his proximity. You liked it more than you could have imagined.

However, this was just the starting point of your wholesome conversation this day. It all just came so naturally, you nearly forgot to keep cooking. Seokmin on his side felt incredibly happy compared to his usual happy demeanor. He truly enjoyed your back and forth conversations and he felt greatly satisfied, seeing a bright smile or hearing you laugh because of his comments. It was at times like this when he remembered how much he missed talking to new people, especially when the two of you were obviously on the same wave length. He kept forgetting that he probably shouldn’t talk that much when he was sick but he just couldn’t stop, even if you mentioned it more than three times already. He enjoyed it that much.

You two talked about funny stories of your mom, ridiculous ones of the other members (you really wouldn’t have expected an idol group to be this funny) and also about your own interests, hobbies and families. You snorted when he told you how their trio Booseoksoon sang one of their songs at his sisters wedding in order to make the married couple kiss. The more you got to know each other, the more you forgot how time actually flied.

He even begged you to stay and eat with him when you finally finished cooking, which you hesitantly accepted after seeing his pleading puppy look. What did you get yourself into?

While eating, you told him excitedly about your new fashion projects, you were working on. He was more than hooked listening to every detail. He always loved it when people told him about their passion and he could clearly see that this was yours with how vivid your eyes were beaming and how big your smile grew. It secretly increased the warmth in his heart more and more.

It was the same look he had on his face as he told you about his fans, their next album preparations and the amazing concerts all around the world. You just loved listening to him, even though you both probably finished eating since over an hour already. Sitting so close to him while looking at his dark shining eyes made your brain just automatically foggy.

It only was when your friend and roommate Minji called to ask where you were for your groups project meeting, that you realised how long you actually let yourself swaying in Dokyeoms presence. You were already over half an hour late to your meeting.

You quickly told her you were on your way and hung up, while carrying the plates to the sink. Seokmins sad eyes followed you as he stood up to help you. “You have to go?” He asked immediately, now standing next to you, taking the plates out of your hands, while towering a good piece over you.

You nodded with a sad smile, suddenly feeling every effect he had on you even stronger.

“Yeah I’m sorry. I already stayed way too long. My group is going to kill me.” You tried joking. He chuckled, searching for your eyes.

Seokmin knew when he was interested in a person and it even was obvious for him that you sparked a deep interest inside of him after today. He just knew he wanted to see you again.

“I really enjoyed talking to you. It’s rare to have such a nice conversation. I literally forgot time.” His rich chocolate eyes met yours. “Yeah, I feel the same...” you chocked out, heart beating way too fast again. What was it with your heart today?

“Are you coming over again or...?” He asked almost timidly while fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He looked adorable. Absolutely adorable.

You sent him a shy smile, shrugging your shoulders. “Maybe... I am kind of busy this month because of work and university. But... I would love to talk to you again.” A sudden wave of confidence hit you and took even you by surprise.

A sigh of relief was heard from his side and you giggled. “Thank god. I really wanted to ask you for your phone number.”

God he really was adorable. Such a cutie.

With a grin, you searched for a piece of paper and a pen nearby and quickly scribbled your number onto it. You really had no worry about him being secretly a creep so why not.

“Here you go. Oh and I still didn’t make you your second free drink, so make sure to text me with your order.” There you both went into a giggling mess again.

“Will do. It’s all I’m thinking about.”

So after swiftly cleaning the plates together and saying goodbye and also telling him to get better soon, you made your way out of the building with such an energy, you had no idea where it came from. But you loved how you felt after spending time with Dokyeom. And you were definitely looking forward to your next meeting.

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specterchasing-a · 3 years

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Hold On (Part 2) || Eddie & Alfie

TIMING: One month ago, directly after part one.

LOCATION: En route to the woods.

PARTIES: @yikesimonfire & @specterchasing

SUMMARY: Alfie and Eddie have a heart-to-heart in the car.

CONTENT: Internalized homophobia tw

Eddie mindfully secured his filming equipment in the trunk of Alfie’s odiously yellow station wagon. As he took a step back to close the hatch, an idea occurred to him. He hastily ducked back into the trunk and unzipped his bag to pilfer for his camera. Now satisfied, Eddie slammed the door shut and walked briskly to the car’s passenger-side. The moment he settled into his seat, a pronounced frown settled into his features.

“When are you gonna get your AC fixed?” Eddie implored, his gaze settling on his chaperone. “Every time I get in this car, it feels like the air’s been replaced by uncomfortably warm dog breath.” He refrained from adding that it smelled like it as well. Alfie didn’t need to be subjected to verbal beration of that magnitude after agreeing to accompany him tonight.

While Eddie packed his gear into the back, Alfie hopped into the driver’s seat, helplessly turning the ignition repeatedly until the engine sputtered to life. Immediately, he was hit with a blast of cold air before the air conditioning unit forgot how to work. The ration of cool air was quickly replaced with a suffocatingly stale breeze. Alfie stretched over to unlock the passenger door and cranked the window open before rolling his own window down to allow a more comfortable airflow. Soon enough, Eddie was in the seat beside him.

A laugh reverberated in his chest at Eddie’s comment. “What do you mean?” Alfie asked, emphatically waving his hand at the dashboard. “It’s doing its best. Besides, parts are hard to come by.” That’s what he got for being cheap. What he needed was a new car altogether, but that wasn’t happening any time soon. The wagon got him from point A to B; that would have to be enough. It wasn’t like he needed a functioning air conditioner anyway, not that Eddie was privy as to why. “We can always take yours,” he offered with a small smirk.

“I hate to break it to you, but its best doesn’t cut it. It needs to do another car’s best,” Eddie riffed while opening the viewer on his camera. With the press of a button, it became a diligent archivist of its owner’s per view. Without warning, Eddie lifted the device to eye-level and pointed it in Alfie’s direction. He knew well and good his friend didn’t enjoy being in the crosshairs of his filming, but that never stopped him in the past. Why would it deter him now?

“Trust me, I would love to take the Mini, but it’s… well, mini, and you know that. As quirky as your car is, it has better storage options.” Eddie’s voice lacked interest—he found himself too caught-up in recording to have any to spare. “You have a nice profile, have I said that before?” he asked, slipping further into his seat as he rested his feet on the dashboard. Meanwhile, his eyes (and camera) remained fixated on Alfie.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” Alfie chuckled as he shifted the car into reverse and eased out of his parking space. With his eyes now fixed on the path ahead, Alfie didn’t notice the camera focused on him. “You really should have considered that when you bought it. What would you do if I ever wasn’t around to lend my cargo space?”

The compliment that soon fell from Eddie’s lips made Alfie’s brow raise. His eyes flickered to look at Eddie, only to find that he was being filmed. “Wha— Christ’s sake, Eddie, would you turn that thing off?” A fire rose in his cheeks, coloring them a vibrant red. He quickly turned his head away, but was unable to avoid the camera’s watching eye. Damn it. He hated being recorded; Eddie knew that. “Or, I’unno… turn it somewhere else, at least?”

As the car reached the edge of the parking lot, Alfie applied the brakes and looked back at Eddie, the blush still prominent on his face. “And buckle,” he scolded — albeit playfully — with raised eyebrows. “Seriously, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Die, probably,” Eddie deadpanned. If he were to make an effort, his car could likely hold whatever necessities he needed it to. Alfie probably knew that, too. However, if he went that route, he wouldn’t be able to spend his time being a nuisance in the passenger’s seat. He much preferred reclining and filming to focusing on the road. A miracle happened the day he got his license, that much was certain.

Alfie’s reaction to being caught on candid camera inspired an impish grin from Eddie. He noticed the change of color in his cheeks—so did his heart, actually. It drummed desperately within his chest, as if also begging Eddie to rethink staring at Alfie for so long. Unfortunately, he rarely listened to what either of them had to say. “I can’t believe you hate art so much that you’d deprive me of my muse,” he said.

Eddie rolled his eyes, also playfully, when Alfie scolded him. “Not today,” he answered before he quickly switched his camera off and buckled in like he was told.

Deprived of his main source of entertainment, Eddie resorted to turning on the radio. Like everything else in Alfie’s car, the display refused to work properly. What should have been words and numbers looked more like hieroglyphs. Eddie briefly toggled through stations before a familiar tune (‘Hold On’ by Wilson Phillips) caused him to turn the radio off with evident disdain.

A strange sensation tugged behind Alfie's navel at the suggestion that Eddie would die without him. It wasn't true, of course. With any luck, Eddie would go on fine without him; he had to. Still, the thought made him feel… guilty? Alfie's time in this life was growing increasingly limited. He couldn't afford to think about it now. It would only make the time he did have left with Eddie less worthwhile, for fear of causing him any grief.

"Your muse?" Alfie nearly cooed. "Please—" his voice cracked. "I have complete faith that you'll find something better." Once again unable to make eye-contact with Eddie today, Alfie shook his head with a breathy chuckle and rolled his eyes. His attention was back on the road and as the seat belt beside him clicked into place, assuring Eddie's safety, Alfie merged onto the street to begin their journey.

It didn't take long for Eddie to begin fidgeting. He knew well enough by now that finding a suitable radio station in the station wagon was unlikely. Alfie wouldn't complain about the music as long as it kept the camera off him. But when Eddie abruptly cut the radio off, he successfully piqued Alfie's curiosity.

"What was that about?" he asked, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes darting between Eddie and the road. "You trying to tell me you hate Wilson Phillips or something? And you were just getting onto me about hating art," Alfie teased.

Alfie’s insistence that Eddie would eventually move on to something better almost made him laugh. For years, his thoughts revolved around his reclusive neighbor and not much else. Alfie and Youtube; that’s what filled his days since he moved downtown. “No, I won’t,” he gently corrected him. “Besides, I don’t want to.” It didn’t worry him to voice his genuine fondness for Alfie, not when they had years of friendship behind them. At this point, it would’ve been more alarming if he didn’t love the guy enough to negate his self-deprecation.

“Wilson Phillips is not art.” Eddie emphatically pointed a finger at Alfie. “Not that song, at least. ‘Hold On’ is trite and cheap. And, all it does is make me think about the time I spent in group therapy as a teenager when our counselor insisted on performing an acoustic version at the end of every single session. Every session, Alfie,” he looked at his chauffeur with bewildered eyes. “She even made eye contact with us while she sang—who does that? I never felt like I could look away, not when she was tearfully pleading with me to break free from the chains. It was torture. Wilson Phillips is torture, not art.”

Alfie didn't want to argue about how quickly Eddie would (or wouldn't) move on. No matter how much Eddie didn't want to, there would come a point that he would have no other option. Besides, Alfie playing the part of Eddie's muse was clearly a joke. Or, perhaps more accurately, a metaphor for their friendship. All that mattered was Eddie had not meant it in a literal sense. So why had he allowed himself to become so flustered over it?

"Bullshit!" squawked Alfie, who was now fully prepared to enlighten Eddie about his previous love affair with the early 90s pop scene. Before he had a chance to share however, Eddie shared his own history with the song. Alfie's jaw slackened and he shot Eddie an incredulous look. "Every session?" he parroted in disbelief. His face scrunched as he imagined what kind of hellscape that must have been. Being forced to listen to acoustic covers was bad enough, but on top of awkward eye-contact?

"Okay, yeah… no. I see your point," Alfie softly spoke after a moment. "Who in their right mind thought she was still fit to be a counselor after the first time that happened, anyway? Like — I'unno, you'd think someone would've had to question her capability or whatever at that point."

"Still," he continued after making a point to showcase his disapproval with a series of disdainful facial expressions. "I stand by what I said. I think there's something beautiful in wanting to turn around and say goodbye — much like how you must have felt after being subjected to that special brand of hell."

Eddie adopted a tight-lipped grin when Alfie conceded. “Every session,” he confirmed. Looking back, he couldn’t remember liking anything about group therapy. Owning up to his issues should’ve never been something that required an audience. As extroverted as Eddie could be, he kept his cards close to his chest when it came to his emotions. Alfie knew him better than anyone else and even he didn’t get the whole truth half the time.

Eddie let out a terse laugh at Alfie’s final comment. “Real cute,” he snarked playfully before his expression became more serious. “It didn’t help that I hated therapy in general. Not only did it well and truly suck to talk about my feelings, but the only reason my parents even made me go was the whole… ghost-vision deal.” Eddie emphasized his annoyance by accompanying the tail-end of his sentence with a flippant flap of his hand. “Funny, that they pegged the one thing that made me happy as the problem.” His brow raised as he pursed his lips.

“But, uh, wow—sorry about the impromptu sharetime,” Eddie said when shame began to collect in chest. “Don’t mind me complaining about therapy while simultaneously making you my therapist.” He hoped levity would be the cure for oversharing.

Alfie’s face lit up at Eddie’s initial response. “I’m the cutest, obviously,” he chided with a lopsided grin. He couldn’t recall any previous conversations about Eddie’s group therapy, but he was well aware of his friend’s relationship to his parents. Maybe he had mentioned it before; it was truly a testament to how solid Alfie’s active listening skills were. “Fuck your parents!” his voice trilled. “Seriously — when have they ever cared about your happiness?” His commiseration was probably unnecessary; Eddie didn’t need another reminder that his family were awful. “Sorry… too far,” he added with a small frown.

With a clear road ahead, Alfie lifted a hand from the steering wheel and maneuvered it around to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey, man, don’t sweat it — really. I will gladly take an impromptu sharetime over an awkwardly silent drive to our inevitable doom.” His gaze shifted to Eddie as he gave him an apologetic smile, allowing his hand to linger a bit longer than was probably acceptable. “Besides,” Alfie added, gently squeezing Eddie’s shoulder before returning his hand to the wheel, “that’s what friends are for, right?”

It wasn’t often that Alfie referred to them as “friends”. The word was scattered few and far between, but that didn’t make it any less true. “From now on, that song is banned. We don’t talk about it. We don’t listen to it. It’s purged from our lives. What song? Wilson Phillips, who? Never heard of ‘em!” Alfie tilted his head in Eddie’s direction and peered at him expectantly, waiting for some sort of positive reaction to ensure he’d sufficed at making his friend feel better.

Eddie glanced at Alfie in surprised amusement after his initial outburst. “You’re right and you should say it,” he encouraged in a light-hearted tone that didn’t fit the topic. If he didn’t try to lessen the weight of the conversation, he might have to admit to how much it hurt to discuss. He couldn’t risk letting Alfie know the extent of his damage.

When Alfie’s hand landed on his shoulder, Eddie felt a lump form in his throat. Usually, he initiated whatever physical contact they shared. He didn’t know how to react to being on the receiving end. Alfie’s mention of ‘inevitable doom’ managed to ease his uncertainty. Eddie replied with a soft huff of laughter, his eyes shining with fondness.

Soon enough, Alfie deprived Eddie of his hand, but didn’t give him much time to be upset about it. He called them friends. “Oh, is that what we are?” Eddie asked with a teasing grin. “Could’ve sworn our relationship was more like whatever Bugs and Elmer had going on.” His expression softened, though his grin remained throughout Alfie’s condemnation of Wilson Phillips.

“You’re…. You’re a really good guy, Alfie,” Eddie said. “Thanks for humoring me tonight.”

It didn’t seem appropriate to continue down the path of shit-talking Eddie’s parents, no matter how much they deserved it. Eddie didn’t enlist Alfie on this adventure just to talk about all of his woes. If he was going to do this, then goddamn it, he was going to make the best out of it. Eddie deserved that much. “‘Course we’re friends,” Alfie returned with a playful sneer. “Though, I think you’re way off base with that one. If anything, we’re more like Bugs and Daffy.” His eyes focused on the road, but his mind was lost in thought. “Actually—” Alfie corrected, “come to think of it, that’s really fuckin’ accurate. Just, y’know, don’t ask me who’s who.”

In an instant, Alfie’s eyes were back on Eddie. Immense guilt crept over him for trying to turn down the invitation in the first place. It was glaringly obvious that Eddie was trying to involve him in his life; something Alfie tried to avoid with just about everyone who did. His heart ached. He didn’t want to refuse Eddie, truly. There just happened to be parts of his life that were better off private. But it wouldn’t kill him to hang out with the guy more every now and then. Well, given Eddie’s track record, it very well could. But it would be worth it… RIght?

“Listen, Ed… I know I’m a pain in the ass. It’s not — I don’t do things like this, y’know? I stay at home like the grumpy hermit crab that I am and that’s how I like it.” Apologies were never Alfie’s strong suit. It was rare that the words “I’m sorry” ever made it out of his mouth. “But I’m already pretty glad I came with you.” Once again, he was dancing the conversation dangerously close to heavy. Alfie mentally berated himself; he needed to keep things light. “But if we make it out alive, you do still owe me those Baby Ruths,” he teased, lightly nudging Eddie’s arm with his own.

#c: alfie #wickedswriting #hold on #internalized homophobia tw #// there's like two more parts to this still #i hope you guys like weekly installments #poaisdjfosdf

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make-it-mavis · 3 years

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Homesick (Entry #41 - Finale)

02/03/88 11:53 PM

Hey.

...Hey.

I’m… really not sure where to begin. To be perfectly honest, part of me feels strange writing this at all. Not to say that filling this notebook has always made total sense to me, but today is different. Today is, well… today. This long-winded bedtime story has finally caught up to me. For the first time since I started, all I have to write about is what happened today.

I’ve never been quite so stuck on the fence between calling these entries ‘letters’ or ‘journals.’ I don’t know where I stand in this game of pretend I’ve been playing with myself for the past couple of months. Pretending I’m writing to you, pretending you’ll ever read all this. I don’t know. I guess I want to believe I don’t need to do this anymore, at least not today. Because with any luck, you saw everything that happened today, and heard everything that was said. What’s the point of telling someone about an event they attended?

But I’ll tell you about it anyway, because I want to record and remember every detail. It was overwhelming, and it somehow went by so fast, and I’m worried that I’ll forget something. My heart’s still kind of pounding. I feel a bit light-headed. I can still smell burning paper, and it’s making me a little sick, but it’s… well, it’s complicated.

Today was, of course, your funeral.

I’m not sure what I expected your funeral to be like. I’d never been to one. I’d certainly never prepared one. I wasn’t even sure a gathering of three could be called a funeral at all. But I did my best to make sure each of us would pay respects to you that were not given at the arcade-wide memorial.

I really had only one major request for Felix and Ralph. I wanted each of us, including myself, to write a letter to you. I could tell that they weren’t thrilled by the idea, but they didn’t fight me on it. I tried to make it as easy and open-ended as possible. I told them to just say whatever they would say to you if they had one more chance to do so, to be genuine about it, no matter what that might look like, and write it in the form of a letter. I didn’t tell them why that last part was so significant, and they didn’t ask. But it just felt right to me.

Once we fully settled on a plan together, it looked like this:

One hour after the arcade closed, we would meet behind Niceland. No articles of blue clothing would be allowed, and I would provide red color edits as needed, including on the flowers that Felix was tasked to bring. I would bring the picture frame with our drawings, and your scarf and goggles, to be placed on a table with the flowers. Each of us would read out our letters, and then fold them into paper boats, light them on fire, and send them down the river while I played a song I wrote for the occasion.

I was still working on the song by the time the evening came.

I was in Felix’s apartment when the arcade closed. I had spent most of the day in my den so that I could hear my own music over the sound of Niceland being pounded to bits, but eventually snuck into the building, picture frame and your belongings in hand, so that Felix would not have to come looking for me. When I heard ‘Quittin’ time’ announced and the wrecking stopped for good, I just tried my best to ignore it and keep plucking away on my guitar.

It was not long before I heard approaching thumps rising up the side of the building and, from the corner of my eye, saw Ralph’s face appear in one of the apartment’s windows. I was startled by the sound of glass breaking, and looked to see him still holding up the finger that he had tried to gently tap the window with.

“D’oh, darn it,” he grunted, before smiling at me sheepishly. “Hey, Mavis. Sorry.”

I set my guitar aside and walked over, kind of annoyed that my heart rate had not fallen since the startle. “Hey, don’t be sorry,” I said with a bit of a sigh, “I hate that window, too.”

He laughed briefly and awkwardly before scratching the back of his head with his free hand. “So… I’ll get out of your hair in a sec, I just wanted to make sure we’re still… Y’know, that this is still--”

“Yup. Still on in an hour.”

“Okay,” he nodded, pretty clearly nervous. “Okay, I’ll go get ready, then.”

He almost dropped, but I called him back with a short whistle. “Hold on,” I told him, pulling out my brush. He watched me quizzically, but held still long enough for me to reach through the window and touch the color red into the otherwise aqua undershirt peeking up under his collar. “There. Now you’re set.”

“Oh,” he tugged his clothes away from his chest to inspect the change. “Right, right. Okay. At least the rest of me is pretty red already, huh?”

“Well, you’re better off than Felix,” I said, cracking a small smile.

We said a couple strained, awkward goodbyes, and he disappeared back down the side of the building almost the second Felix walked in the front door.

At first, he said “Oh, Mavy,” in pleasant surprise, but when he saw the broken window, he repeated in a less happy tone, “Oh, Mavy.”

“Hey, for once it wasn’t me,” I shrugged. “Take it up with the Bad Guy.”

Felix mended the broken window as quickly as ever, and from there, we more or less carried on like we would have any other evening. Felix brewed some tea, we sat at the table, and he told me about his day, as usual. I pretended to listen just enough to seem like I wasn’t snubbing him while I continued to work on the song. I just kept my notepad in my lap and darted my eyes down to it whenever he broke eye contact. Eventually, he couldn’t carry the conversation on his own anymore.

“You haven’t touched your tea,” he pointed out gently. “Can I get you more sugar?”

“No, thanks,” I mumbled absent-mindedly, eyes down, and reached to take a sip of the tea to placate him. Once the cold, minty drink was in my mouth, however, I found it hard to swallow. It tasted fine, but my throat felt almost too tense to allow it. I tried to subtly spit it back into the cup, but I know he saw.

“Are you… alright?” he asked gingerly, like he knew how stupid the question was, today of all days.

“I’m fine,” I sighed, drumming my pen against the paper, still not looking up. “I’m just working on the song I said I’d write. I’ve got the melody, but the words just aren’t coming together.”

“Oh,” I heard him take a slow, thoughtful sip. “Maybe it doesn’t need words. I’m sure it’s lovely anyway.”

I paused to consider that, accepted it, scratched out all my attempts at lyrics and tossed the notepad and pen over my shoulder. “Yeah,” I sighed sharply, planting my elbows on the table and rubbing my brow. “Screw it.”

Felix was quiet for a while. I just kept my eyes closed, trying to escape the headache I’d been fighting all day.

“You know, Mavy,” he said slowly, “we don’t have to do this today. If you need more time, that’s alright.”

“No, no,” I sighed again, folding my arms and staring down at my tea. “I want to do it today.”

“That’s fine, too,” he said. “Just… you know, there’s no rush.”

“Yeah, there is,” I muttered. “For me, there is. I know that a couple of days is not a long time to plan anything, but… I’ve wanted this for way more than a couple of days. I just… I’ve had a lot going on. I haven’t exactly had the mental space to realize just how… how mad I’ve been this whole time. Mad about…” I lifted my fingers, “everything. And I know I’ve been pissy as hell in general, but there’s just been this shade of it that I… I haven’t been able to see.”

I finally glanced up at Felix. He was just listening, cupping his empty mug on the table. There was no pain in his eyes, only a desire to understand. So I continued.

“In counselling, I learned about the stages of grief. Anger is the first. It had been long enough, and I had done enough work on myself, I thought I had moved past it. But there’s been this… underlying resentment that’s gone unaddressed. I know what it is now. It clicked when Ralph gave me that picture frame. I was hit by the fact that it was the first real gesture of respect for Turbo’s memory that I had seen since he died. Yeah, I’m not angry at Turbo anymore. But Devs, I’m angry for him.

“Angry that the arcade-wide memorial only served to vilify him. Angry that I was assaulted before even getting the chance to start mourning, and I’ve spent all this time dealing with what’s happened to me and ignoring what happened to him. Angry that other sprites in counselling get to talk about their grief and loss without a single judging look. Angry that I feel like I have to apologize any time I bring up Turbo in counselling. Angry that sprites out there are literally changing the meaning of his name to mean the act that killed him.”

I took a second to breathe. Felix waited patiently, and I continued once I found a calmer tone to speak in.

“I remember the night before he died. I remember the shape he was in. If anyone else had seen what I did, they wouldn’t be talking like they are. They would know he didn’t deserve to die. I can’t stand being the only sprite in the arcade who seems to understand that. And now I finally have time and energy to do something about it. Even if it’s just me, you, and Ralph. Ideally, Tapper would be there, too. Ideally, the whole arcade would care enough to be there. But I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve got.”

I shook my head. “I just can’t carry this anger a single step further. It has to be today.”

Felix smiled in a sad sort of way and nodded just a bit. “Okay,” he breathed. “Then we’ll do it today.”

The conversation ended after that, and shortly after, Felix excused himself to go gather the flowers he was tasked to bring, leaving me alone in the apartment for a while. It was enough time for me to practice the song a couple more times and try not to obsess over it. I felt like you deserved something better. Something grand. Something you would be happy to assign your name to while you were here. But I couldn’t manage it. I couldn’t even manage to write lyrics for the short, simple melody I came up with.

I guess missing you just doesn’t make me feel very musical.

After I was as satisfied as I was going to get with the song, I set to work coloring my clothes red, leaving only the already white parts unpainted. I was staring into the bathroom mirror, debating coloring the blue out of my eyes when Felix returned, arms full of flowers. I gave the flowers the same red-and-white treatment I gave myself, and eliminated every shade of blue from Felix’s outfit. He looks a bit weird in red, but I just couldn’t allow anything resembling Devout attire at your funeral. Nevermind blue being your least favorite color.

Once about an hour had passed since the arcade closed, we were all ready to go. There wasn’t a shade of blue on us. Felix held the color-coded flowers, and I held the picture frame and your belongings under an arm. Both of us had our respective letters we wrote to you in our pockets. I had my guitar slung over my back, tuned to perfection. Everything on the proverbial checklist was ticked.

But still, I stood there at the front door, one hand on the knob, finding it hard to make myself turn it.

“It’s okay, Mavy,” Felix said softly from behind me. “Take your time.”

I sighed through my nose, closing my eyes and trying to fight the quivering in my stomach. The gravity of what I was about to do had been squeezing me tighter and tighter as the evening went on.

“Hun,” Felix prompted gently, “I know you’re angry. But are you sure you want to do this in anger?”

I considered that, took a deep breath, and stood a bit straighter. “Yes, actually,” I looked back over my shoulder at him, speaking calmly despite my nerves. “I do. Waiting won’t help. I think I can safely say that delaying this is what made me angry in the first place. And... for once, I’d like to use my anger for something good,” I gave half a smile. “I won’t blow anything up this time. Don’t worry.”

Felix gave a quiet huff of a laugh, paused, and shook his head with a warm smile. “I’m not worried.”

I raised a brow.

He put one hand up a bit. “I know, I know how ridiculous that sounds. I know I’m the king of all worrywarts. But I mean it. I’m not worried.”

“Explain.”

Felix shrugged contentedly. “I trust you.”

I just stared at him, unsure if he had ever uttered those words to me before. I didn’t know what to say, so he continued.

“I trust you to do what’s best for you… and for Turbo. You’re the only one in the arcade who could,” he sighed, a bit of glassiness showing in his eyes. “And I’m proud of you. I know he would be, too.”

A bit blindsided in my already emotionally vulnerable state, I swallowed hard. Suddenly, my face felt much too hot. I nodded a bit, letting my eyes wander as the words sank in. I hoped he was right, but I tried not to think too deeply about that lest I turn into an emotional wreck before even making it downstairs.

So I just glanced at him and muttered, “Thanks, cuz.”

“Of course,” he smiled wider. “I know you’ll be alright. I’ve never been so sure of that.”

I allowed my own smile to show. “Yeah. I’ll make it.”

He chuckled. “It’s what you do.”

At that point, I finally found the resolve to open the door and walk down the hall to the elevator. We rode down in silence, and I managed to steady my breathing enough to gain confidence that I could keep it together through our modest little service. Once we reached the ground floor and stepped out into the hallway, however, Felix stopped me before the back doors of Niceland.

“Mavy,” he said, “a word before we go out.”

“What?”

“Well… I hope you don’t mind, but I took a couple... liberties with the service.”

I blinked. “Okay. What’d you do?”

“Just…” he stepped back, pushing open one of the double doors and nodding towards the outside, “...have a look.”

I had no idea what to expect -- Felix’s ideas of surprises are usually extremely underwhelming. But when I obliged him, and took a single step out of the building, what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

There was a crowd.

I saw the Nicelanders first. Behind them, I saw Tapper. And Peter Pepper. And Paperboy, two Joust knights, Mario, and Clyde. And Ralph, towering above them in the back. They were arranged in rows in front of one of the prepared tables, watching me, waiting for me in a reverent hush.

I felt, for just a moment, that I could pass out.

“Mavy… you okay?” Felix whispered.

I looked at him. Then back to the crowd. Then to him. I hadn’t the slightest clue what to say. My thoughts were struggling to keep up with my feelings. I was overwhelmed, equally on the verge of crying, yelling, and running away. But, somehow, all the same… my heart was swelling with gratitude.

“You did this?” I mouthed to Felix.

“I may have spread the word a little bit,” he replied, looking almost smug, in a very nervous way. “I just… I knew you wished he could have a bigger send off, and I knew you thought no one would even come, but… I wanted to prove you wrong. It’s not the whole arcade, but it’s something.”

I stared at him.

“Oh, Mavy,” he frowned, “I’m sorry. Did I do wrong?”

“No,” I whispered, looking back at the crowd. “Absolutely not.”

Finally, we both stepped fully out of Niceland. We crossed to the table in front of the crowd and found that a couple rows of bricks had been placed on it, almost like an altar to put the frame on. I did so, along with your scarf and goggles, and Felix laid out the flowers. After that, he clarified whether I was okay one more time, before stepping in line along the front row of the crowd, leaving me in the spotlight.

I looked at everyone. They looked at me. I silently thanked counselling for getting me accustomed to a certain level of vulnerability in a group setting, and I spoke.

“Wow… I’m almost speechless,” I told them, my voice faltering a bit. “I don’t know what to say, other than…”

At that point, my eyes landed on Gene.

I immediately snapped, “Gene, what the hell are you doing here? Get out.”

He threw his hands up, exclaimed, “THANK YOU,” and broke away from the crowd to return to Niceland. I watched him go, and waited until the door shut behind him to continue.

“Anyway,” I addressed the crowd with a bit more confidence, as Ralph struggled to stifle a laugh in the back, “it means a lot that the rest of you are here. Thank you for…” I sighed, “joining me in remembering Turbo properly. I… obviously have a few things to say, but I’ll hold off for now. Felix and Ralph have prepared remarks, and, uh… after that, if anyone else has something they’d like to say, you’re welcome to do so. I’ll take it from there after that. So…”

I met Felix’s gaze expectantly, and he gasped a little bit before nodding and switching places with me. I set my guitar down on a separate table, and then I stood by the crowd and watched him pull a folded piece of paper out of his chest pocket, clear his throat, and take a moment. The reverent silence from before settled over everyone once more as Felix found his voice.

“Turbo…” he began, “I’m afraid you’ll have to forgive me. This letter isn’t exactly the poetry you’d expect to be read aloud at a… gathering of this nature. Truthfully, writing this at all has been, well… a lot harder than I thought. I’ve written my fair share of letters on my own time. Boy, I even sent you one or two before, when you were still here to receive them. Whether you read them or just turned them into paper airplanes, I never really knew. But this one… I hope, wherever you are, you’re listening. Even if you don’t want to hear from me, there are things I need to say to you. More things than I realized.”

Felix paused to take a steadying breath before attempting the rest. “Turbo, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it took me this long to truly think about you and how I feel. How I feel about losing you. I’ve been so preoccupied looking after the sprites who depend on me, I just… somehow, forgot to mourn. And once I did, once I started writing, I… Well, I cried. I know I’m a big crier, but even for me… I cried so much. Because golly, I… I didn’t realize just how much I’m going to miss you.

“It feels so strange to say it, because, well, you did drive me up the wall most days. You’d burst into my apartment in the wee hours of the morning, tracking in dirt on my carpet, raiding my fridge without so much as a ‘Hello.’ You’d show up uninvited to parties and be rude to the guests. On more than one occasion, you drove your car into our game and left tire tracks that tore up our lovely grass and flowers. But I miss it all, just the same. I miss feeling guilty for laughing at your... crass jokes. I miss being angry at you, angry enough that all my other problems felt like a breeze, comparatively. I miss seeing you in passing in Game Central and hearing every new, mean... frankly annoyingly clever nickname you chose to greet me with. I miss your laugh, your smile, your face… I miss seeing you at all. It’s strange, but I miss all the complicated emotions you brought into my life. You did drive me crazy. But I loved it. I’m just sorry it took losing you to make me realize that.”

At this point, he was pausing at the end of every sentence to wipe away tears from under his eyes, and as he went on, I could feel my own starting to sting a bit. “I wish you could have understood how loved you were. In the way that matters. I wish that you could have seen that you had nothing to be jealous of. You were one in a million, Turbo. No one will ever replace you. No one will ever forget you.”

Just for a moment, he glanced at me. “And I’ll never forget the happiness you brought to my family.” Then, sniffling, he closed out with, “Goodbye, Turbo. Goodbye, my friend.”

After that, he wandered over to join me next to the crowd and pulled out a handkerchief to blow his nose into. I watched him, eventually deciding to rub his back. Touching him is still a challenge, but… I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if I could even say it right.

I had expected his letter to be almost entirely about your relationship with me and how it made him feel. I expected to be the bridge between the two of you, like I always seemed to be before you died. But, seemingly out of nowhere, he pulled out these deeply personal feelings about you. He himself felt guilt over not mourning you properly, just as I did. It made me think about the conversation we had shared about an hour beforehand, and how he must have been angry, too. In his own Felix sort of way. And how that might have inspired him, in part, to invite all the extra guests.

It just meant a lot to me, knowing you meant something to him.

After a couple moments of clumsily comforting Felix, I saw no movement, so I looked back over the crowd at Ralph. He seemed to be doing his best to disappear all nine feet of himself, but once we locked eyes, he surrendered and trudged to the front of the crowd. He seemed kind of nervous, fumbling as he pulled out his letter and unfolded it.

“Turbo, uh…” he began, pausing to stare out at his audience one last time before shifting his feet and clearing his throat. “Okay. Look. I'll be honest with you. When Mavis asked me to write you a letter, I was kind of confused. The letters are a nice idea, but… me? I was never your friend. We never got along. In fact, the very first time I met you, I very clearly remember you saying--” and at this point, he poorly mimicked your accent, “--’Don't tell me. You're a Bad Guy. I can smell a professional loser from across the arcade, even without the help a’ your severe body odor. Take a shower, ya might like it.’”

I didn’t hide my chuckle. I even heard one or two behind me. Ralph noticed, and seemed unsure if he was being laughed at or with. Either way, he took on a bit more of a solid tone.

“Yeah, you were a jerk. You didn't like me, and I didn't like you. But I'm still… I don’t know. Somehow, part of me is still sad you're gone. And not just because things have been so messed up since you left. I think there was just one thing about you that I might have, possibly, maybe, sort of liked.

“You were a Good Guy, but… you didn’t really act like one. A lot of Good Guys are jerks who pretend to be nice, but you never pretended. You never hid how mean you were. It’s weird to think of that as a good thing. I don't know. I'm not sure I get why that sticks out to me in my memories of you, but it does, so... I guess I will miss you, Turbo. Even though you were basically a second Mavis most of the time.”

That one got a bigger laugh, especially from me. Ralph seemed very pleased with himself. He had to clear his throat to snap himself out of a poorly timed smile. Frowning appropriately, he said, “Goodbye, Turbo. Rest in peace.”

He then walked back to his spot in the rear of the crowd, and a blanket of silence settled softly over us all once again.

By this point, I was feeling pretty sick. Somehow, I wasn’t crying yet, but I was incredibly anxious. The longer the service went on, the more I began to wonder if I was making a mistake, after all. Hearing the other two talk about you the way they did… It scared me for a lot of reasons. Not the least of which being I was probably going to have to read my letter in a moment, and it was a lot longer and a lot more personal than what they wrote. I knew that would be the case from the beginning, but when the moment finally came, I was not prepared for it.

And as the silence carried on, I only felt sicker. If no one else wanted to speak, then it would have to be my turn. I just stood there, fighting myself on whether I should wait longer or get it over with, until I heard the blessed sound of footsteps.

Tapper stepped out in front of the crowd.

Seeing him standing there alone, rescuing me from my anxiety for just a couple more minutes, I was finally able to process how happy I was to see him. Knowing that he must have closed the bar down to come support you and me, even after I nearly got his game unplugged… I mean, I could hardly believe it. A week ago, I thought he would never want to see me again. But he was there. He left his blue vest at home, out of respect for the dress code. He was responsible for the precious frame propped up on the table behind him.

And he had something to say to you.

“Turbo…” he began, sighing, “first, let me piss you off by talking about myself at your funeral. It won't take long. After all, I'm a pretty simple guy. I sell root beer, and that's about it. I barely ever even leave my game. But the truth is, I don't have to. I can go anywhere I want without ever stepping outside. I open my doors… and the arcade is brought to me. Everyone brings in little bits of their lives, whether they know it or not, and I get all the travel I need just from good conversation. But lately, well… I ain't been traveling so far. For the first time ever, my game isn't big enough for me. Not since my road to Turbo Time disappeared.”

He paused thoughtfully, eyes down for a moment. “I may not have ever physically set foot in there. Most of us didn't. But I know we all miss it. Some more than others, sure. And yeah, maybe it wasn't the center of the universe like someone would have liked us to believe. But Turbo Time was more than just a game. Turbo Time was a fact. Constant, stable, since the opening of the very arcade itself. I don't think any of us realized just how comforting it was, the idea that at least one thing in this strange, unpredictable world could remain unchanged -- Turbo Time's place in the spotlight.

“Now... it's gone. And I'm sure there's not a sprite in the arcade who doesn't miss it. Who doesn't miss that stability. Doesn't miss the things we could still believe when Turbo Time was here. So I speak for everyone, and I mean everyone, when I say: Turbo, you will be missed. And thank you for the years you gave us. Goodbye, old friend.”

Tapper gave me one short, meaningful glance, and the corner of his moustache tipped up just a bit in the hint of a smile. He walked away, but not before flashing just a flicker of a wink at me. It took a couple of minutes to understand what he meant to convey with that, but knowing Tapper, I figured it out. And it just made me even more grateful that he came.

I think that everyone else’s refusal to speak did not sit right with him. He knew everyone had something to say, so he said it for them. Because it was your freakin’ funeral, and it would be damn disrespectful to snub you like that.

Tapper’s the best.

Once he rejoined the crowd, I went back to waiting for a while. Deep down, I knew no one else would step up. I knew I was just prolonging my own suffering, but I felt rooted to the spot. I just stood there, staring at the point on the ground where I would have to stand. It was only a few steps away. It should have been easy. But everyone was waiting for me. I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching me expectantly. And in a moment, I would have to broadcast some very, very personal feelings to them. For a few moments, I wondered if I should have been mad at Felix for inviting everyone without permission, after all.

But then I thought back again to the conversation we had earlier. How I said, in a perfect world, the whole arcade would come to pay respects to you. In a perfect world, the arcade-wide memorial would have a complete do-over. The handful of sprites I stood next to was the best you were going to get. At that thought, I felt the same anger that inspired me to host the funeral in the first place.

I pulled the letter I wrote to you out of my pocket and looked it over for just a moment, contemplating. It was everything I would say to you, if I could turn back time. But I asked myself whether, given this opportunity, I wanted to speak to you or to them.

I folded up the letter and put it back in my pocket. I told Felix earlier that anger could be used for good, and I figured it was time to practice what I preached.

I stepped out in front of everyone. I deliberately made them wait just a minute longer while I counted every gaze pointed my way. Every single sprite was watching me, listening, which was no longer off-putting.

It was perfect.

“Let me start by thanking you all for coming, once again, and thank Felix for inviting everyone,” I said clearly and calmly. “This… event is long overdue, and undersized. So, what few guests you may be, know that your appearance here means a lot. A special thank you in particular to the Devout here who skipped the blue clothing, as requested. You see, Turbo was not Devout. He never was. Yet, somehow, a Devout preacher was the only sprite given the authority to speak about him at the memorial after his death. That’s why we’re here today.”

I paused, letting that point sink in, and picking my next words carefully. I was angry, but I had to stay level-headed. I had to use that anger effectively, or the very important message I was about to deliver would not land. Once I felt confident in my emotional balance, I continued.

“The preacher never knew him. No one who spoke that day knew him. Admittedly, he was a tough sprite to know. I could easily count on one hand how many sprites actually did. But no one knew him like I did. By rights, it should have been me who spoke that day. It’s a bit late for that now, but I can tell you what I would have said.

“I’d have told you what most people knew Turbo as. Arrogant, narcissistic, loud, belligerent, relentlessly competitive. You could get him to do pretty much anything just by suggesting he couldn’t. And no matter how badly he failed, he would always challenge you to do better.”

I heard a quiet chuckle or two from that, and smiled as I went on.

“Yeah, nothing, not even his game’s lofty track record, was ever so famous about Turbo as his ego. But he was also clever. And witty, and resourceful, and inventive. His garage was always cluttered with work-in-progress gizmos and sheets of... wildly intricate blueprints I never learned how to read. Framed on the table behind me is proof that we would draw together sometimes, and I always thought his art style was cooler than I let on. Sometimes we would sing, or even write music together, and it’ll likely surprise you to hear, but his voice and his poetry weren’t half-bad. Yeah. That guy was full of surprises, way more than anyone would have believed. And probably the hardest to believe of them all, was… he was afraid.”

I took another pause, figuring out how to continue without betraying your privacy too much. I needed to make everyone understand, but I still wanted to be respectful to you. Eventually, I continued carefully, a light tremor of emotion in my voice.

“He had the fame, the fortune, the status, the gamers’ full attention… but like anyone else in this arcade, he was… scared. He wanted to be loved. To be remembered. He wanted something real to hold onto. Some meaning that could hold its own against the universal fear of this life, the fear that someday our games will be unplugged and wheeled out that door to nowhere. Now, I know how I’ll remember him. I’ll remember him as the greatest racer this arcade’s ever seen. I’ll remember him as an artist, an inventor, a singer, a comedian. I’ll remember him as a person. Because that’s what he was. No matter how hard that preacher tried to twist his life into nothing but a cautionary tale, he was just as much a person as she is. As any of us are. Ignoring that goes far beyond disrespect. Ignoring that is outright dangerous. Because Turbo, no matter what connotations his name carries now, was not a monster. He was only ever one of us. We lost one of our own, and until we stop hiding and face the truth of his death, we will lose more the same way. What can kill one of us can kill more of us.”

I could see a few frowns in the audience. I knew my words were getting a bit scary, but that was good. It said to me that they were starting to get it. So I didn’t let up. I let my tone sharpen.

“Disobeying the program is not what killed him. Seeing no meaning outside of the program killed him. And yet, there was the preacher saying we ought to do the exact same thing. Place all our meaning on our code. She said that Turbo had a virus, that he was corrupted, that following the program will protect us from his fate. The program keeps your game alive, this much we can’t change. But it can’t protect us from everything. You can do everything right and still end up quarterless. New games are plugged in, gamers move on, for reasons we will probably never understand. That’s just life here. Life here is hard, and it’s confusing, and for the most part, our roles are the only things we can actually make sense of. But there has to be more. You have to find more. Your role is what you do, but it can’t be who you are. Because if that’s taken away, who are you? Why are you?”

I stopped. The silence that was once reverent had turned tense. I let my breathing slow as I took a good, long look at the crowd. I felt very little sympathy for the uncomfortable faces at first. Felix was just holding his hat in front of his belly, eyes wide, lips parted. Tapper’s gaze was steady on me, but his brow was furrowed in an almost pained sort of way. Ralph wasn’t looking at me at all. His eyes were low, staring at nothing in particular, squeezing his fingers anxiously.

I took in a deep breath, held it, and let a long sigh wash the anger and adrenaline out of me. That was enough. I could let them off the hook.

“Anyway,” I said lowly, sadly, “that’s my sermon for the day. Moving on... Well, speaking of roles... my role doesn't offer a whole lot in the first place. Some say Easter Eggs are good luck, but being one sure isn’t. You can go weeks without a second of gameplay. It’s hard to feel like you really belong anywhere, sometimes. You live in your game, sure, but… it’s hard to call it ‘home’ when you’re barely needed. It’s easy to feel like the least important sprite in the whole arcade. So, imagine my surprise when, four years ago, I found myself goofing off with the king of the arcade,” I smiled a bit at the memory. “It was so weird to me, hanging out with a guy so obsessed with status when I had basically none of my own. I thought it would have bothered him. But… that was one of the instances where his narcissism sort of… canceled itself out and made him a better person, I think. He was too concerned with himself to care. I asked him what he thought about me being an Easter Egg once, and he just shrugged and said, ‘The hell should I care?’ Like I’d asked him what I should have for dinner, or something. Not saying there weren’t things about me he didn’t like, and hey, he wasn’t perfect either. But there was trust there, I guess. Weird, snarky trust.

“So, I ended up spending a whole lot of time with him, and that was great, because being an Easter Egg frankly gives me more free time than I always know what to do with. Eventually, goofing off with him was one of the few things that made sense in my life. Even if it didn’t make sense to anyone else. I mean, not that everyone didn’t see why we got along so well. We were often told how similar we were, usually not in a good way. But why we did the things we did, I don't think many understood. And I wouldn't expect them to, because our fun usually came at everyone else's expense. Like the time we poured puddles of oil around game central just to watch everyone slip. Or when we'd play music in Ghosts n' Goblins so loud it literally woke the dead. Everyone here probably has their own story to tell…”

I made eye contact and managed a smile for each sprite I mentioned, “Like Mary, whose cake we ruined by switching her sugar and salt. Deanna, we were the reason the whole arcade started calling you ‘Dana’. Tapper could keep us up all night with his own tales of our misdeeds, and so could Gene for that matter, if he were allowed to speak. And Don, yes, any time one of your model boats went missing, it was nicked by us. We used to take them into Frogger and set them on fire, and watch them drift away down the river.”

Don in particular looked shocked, confused, and a bit scandalized, but resigned quickly with a small sigh.

“It all sounds… petty,” I continued, nodding. “Meaningless, shallow, self-indulgent wastes of time by two arrogant sprites who didn't give a damn about anything or anyone. And that's how I preferred to think of it too, most of the time. But I tell you… once, while we were watching one of Don's boats burn away as it floated along, Turbo asked me, ‘Where do you think it goes… after it's deleted for good? After the fire eats it all away?’ He wasn't looking at me, but I could tell… he wasn't smiling. I told him the only thing that made sense to me… ‘Anywhere but here.’ And… honestly, I think the idea of that was some kind of comfort. The idea that there was anything outside of what we knew. Many would say he only ever knew a perfect, privileged life. That he had everything he could have wanted. But, still… all we ever did was look for a way out.”

My eyes fell for a moment. I stared at the ground as I clenched my jaw, struggling to string together the heartache I felt into words. My emotions were finally starting to bubble over, and as much as I tried to fight it, my vision started to blur with tears. Almost at a loss, I just forced myself to start talking, my voice weak and quivering as I looked out at the crowd again.

“...Sprites said a lot of things about us. About… us. Some would call him my partner in crime, which wasn't the whole truth. Some called him my best friend, which... wasn’t the whole truth, either. A whole lot more called him my boyfriend, which, despite evidence to the contrary, he was not. Even I was never sure what to call him, or what he really was to me. But I think I understand, now that he's gone. Because I didn't just lose a friend... or a partner. I lost a place at his side… the first place I ever felt like I belonged. Turbo… he was my home. I... don’t know where the fire leads. I don’t know if it leads anywhere. I don’t know if he’s listening. I don’t know if he exists at all anymore. Out of all those, I don’t even know what I want to believe. Right now, all I know is… no matter how many games I see, no matter how many sprites I meet, no matter how many years I live… I’ll always be homesick. Always.”

I closed my eyes, unable to keep a few tears from falling. Trembling from the awful heat deep in my chest, I knew I was done. I couldn’t say another word on the matter. So, after a long, hushed moment, I turned my eyes to Felix and tipped my head in request for him to take my place. He obliged without question, wiping away the wetness on his own red cheeks. I wandered over to sling my guitar over my shoulder once again as he informed the crowd that it was time to take their paper boats over to the river.

Almost everyone started making their way over to the water, but a few stayed behind to exchange passing words with me or Felix, even though I was mostly staying quiet in an attempt to keep the tears reined in.

Mary approached me first, making an awkward, but genuine offer to bake me a cake when I was finished with my counselling. Even suggested that a small party be arranged. I wasn’t opposed to the idea, but I just thanked her and told her I would think about it. I wasn’t in any shape to be making decisions, and she seemed to get that.

Clyde didn’t get too close. He just put himself in my line of vision and offered a supportive, almost proud smile. I just smiled back and nodded, and that was enough for him. He floated away. I’m glad he was there -- I’m sure my grand display of vulnerability earned me some counselling points.

Peter Pepper, Mario, Paperboy, and the Joust knights came one after the other, all saying more or less the same thing. They had some fond memories of you and me, they wanted to show their support, and they were sorry for my loss. I didn’t know how to respond to most of it beyond muttered thanks.

Then Tapper approached me. There was a whole lot of pride in his eyes, too, as he smiled at me. He reached out to do our patented air-handshake, but I fully clasped his hand and shook it gratefully. He seemed shocked for a second, but laughed a little in pleasant surprise. At that point, I began falling over myself a bit in some attempt to come up with an apology even a fraction as big as he deserved, but was quickly stopped short. He told me that me getting help was the best apology I could give him, and that when I’m done, I should come find him to continue our drawing business, since his walls are still pretty bare.

Again, Tapper is the best.

Once all the conversations ended, Felix and I proceeded to fold our letters into boats, and I helped Ralph with his, since his fingers are so huge and clumsy. He thanked me, but he also seemed sadder and quieter than I expected him to be. Maybe someday I’ll talk to him about it, but I didn’t today. I just grabbed the picture frame, your scarf and goggles, and we all walked over to the river in silence.

I stepped up to the edge of the water, brush in hand. One by one, every guest approached me and gave me their boat, which I touched a shade of fire to with my paint, and gently placed them into the stream. As the process went along, I wondered what all of the letters might have said. I expected most of them to be blank, but a good portion of them had handwriting poking out under the folds. The thought of it put a terribly painful gratitude in my chest.

I sent Ralph’s down the water, and then Felix’s. And last of all came mine.

I held it and stared at it for a minute. It contained everything I wish I could say to you. Everything you should have known before leaving this world. Somehow, it seemed hard to let it go, to do any harm to it. But with all the faith I could possibly muster, I blessed it with a prayer, and sent it floating away in flames, like all the others.

I sat, set my guitar in my lap, and with the heaviest heart I carried in my life, I played your song.

Felix sat beside me, and Ralph followed a moment after, but everyone else remained standing for the soft, mournful serenade. I may not have found the right words to sing, but I hummed along gently anyway, quiet tears falling from my cheeks. I watched the little lights sail away, watched the paper blacken and curl, and the little embers escape into the air. I don’t need to tell you what it reminded me of. But, as painful as it was to relive even a moment of your passing, I knew that this was, maybe, the only way my prayer would be answered.

‘Wherever the fire took him, let it take these, too.’

My song ended before long, and I could barely see through the tears in my eyes, but we all watched until the very last flame burnt out, and only flecks of charred paper remained, carried away by the current. I sat there for a while, sniffing, wiping my eyes, keeping as tight a grip on my composure as possible. Felix pat my back very lightly until I was ready to stand up.

Once I did… it was over.

Everyone said their goodbyes, gave their thanks, gave their sympathies, but ultimately, had to go. Tapper and Peter Pepper had to reopen their games, after all. As the visitors made their way across the bridge and to the cord train to leave, Felix checked in on me. He asked if I wanted to come have dinner with what was left of the group, and just spend the rest of the night in each other’s company.

I declined. I told him that I needed some time alone, and that I was very tired. I haven’t slept much, the past couple days, and I told him so.

He understood, of course, and like a good friend, told me that he’ll be there whenever I need him. Ralph, finally speaking up, seconded the notion, saying that his ‘door’ was always open.

Felix almost went for a hug, but stopped himself, still unsure of my boundaries. On another night, I might have obliged him. Instead, I just clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Eyes glassy, with a loving smile, he did the same to me.

Then we went our separate ways. Felix, to Niceland. Ralph, to the dump. Me, to my den.

Where I fell to pieces and cried my heart out.

All the tears I had been holding back all night just… erupted out of me. I know I could have cried sooner. I know I would have been met with support. Felix and Ralph have been there for me in meaningful ways I won’t soon forget. But, today, I just… I need you. It’s physically painful how badly I need you. No one else will give me what I need tonight, and I can’t expect them to.

So, I guess that’s why I’m here, writing to you again. I can’t visit you any other way, now. I can’t believe how important this notebook has become. I started this ‘story’ in such a terrible, anxious, spiteful place. I was so angry at you for leaving me, and I wanted to tell you just how badly you’ve hurt me. But I’m not angry at you anymore. I almost wish that I was. Because now that it comes down to it, this notebook just feels like the only line to you I have left. There will be no more buff-fueled journeys into my memories, no more hallucinations taking the shape of you. And that’s all well and good, because buffs never filled the space you left behind like I hoped they would. Booze and buffs never kept me warm. Never listened. Never held me.

I don’t want them anymore.

All I want is you.

Once upon a time, this would be too sappy to say, but… Devs, I just want to fall into your arms. I want to vent out everything I kept inside today. Everything I’ve kept inside since starting counselling. Everything I’ve been fighting to keep contained so I can stay strong.

I am strong. Staying strong is going to be worth it. But sometimes, I need to be weak. I’m sure ‘weak’ isn’t what the sprites at counselling would want me to use, but… tonight, I want to be weak. I don’t want to need to be strong. For a while, I want you to be strong for me, and just… let me feel the hurt without endangering myself or anyone else, for once.

Let me play pretend for a little while longer, and tell you everything that’s on my mind.

Maybe some of it will make sense once it’s on paper.

You know… I’m just remembering a moment in counselling, when a sprite talked about how his worst fear came true, but knowing he had lived through it was freeing. I think I mentioned it to Felix last week, but as time goes on, I just… I’m realizing how true it is.

So many horrible things have happened. So much has changed. Sometimes, I still have trouble recognizing my life, and the anxiety surrounding that is suffocating. But every time I come out the other side and calm down, I find that reality is as steady as ever. Slowly, I’m getting used to the new normal. Even the painful parts. I feel… safe. Which, given everything I’ve written here, is kind of amazing.

And, with that safety, I’m given a bit of room to actually look at the good changes that are underway.

One of the biggest sources of pain in my life, and indeed, one of the biggest fuels for my addictive habits, has been the idea that I’m trapped. Trapped in my role by the Devs. Trapped in the grief of losing you. Trapped in my addictions themselves, even. All I’ve ever wanted was a way to escape. Yet, somehow, being locked up in cabinet arrest, being forced to attend stupid, boring counselling… I don’t feel so confined anymore. The arcade feels like it’s getting bigger.

I’m still too big for the life I was made for. That much hasn’t changed. But I’m beginning to think that I don’t need to cut off pieces of myself to fit into it. I think I can just… make my life bigger. I’m not entirely sure how, but I have to believe it’s possible. I mean, I did just preach the idea at your funeral. I have to find more. I have to make more. You managed to show me that. Somehow, through all the loss, suffering, and mistakes, you’ve left me with the knowledge of how important it is to look for more than you’re given.

It’s hard to feel grateful for that.

Truthfully, letting anything good come of this whole nightmare has been incredibly difficult. It still is. There’s some horrible guilt to it. Why do I get to be the one to survive? Why am I the one with a chance to turn my life around? Why couldn’t I have learned all this without having to lose you first?

But, you know… falling apart didn’t bring you back. It was no honor to your memory. It just caused needless pain, almost to the point of total disaster.

I learn from all this because I have to. I joined counselling because I had to make a change. I have to believe you’d be happy for me. Especially because… I can feel big changes happening, deep down.

I feel like I’m on my way to finding what ‘good’ feels like again.

I once told Felix that the search for ‘good’ had never felt so daunting before. I had so many fears holding me back. I was afraid to feel much of anything at all. Afraid to put down roots of any kind. Afraid to have anything real out of belief that I would break it. Afraid to be loved because I didn’t know how to accept it.

Accepting love is still hard, but I’m starting to see that it’s not a decision you can make for anyone else.

Even things about yourself you’ve deemed completely unforgivable will, somehow, still be forgiven. It’s a tough thing to wrap your head around, but hating yourself will not make others hate you, too. I mean… I still can’t manage to hate you, even after all the pain you put me through. Devs know I’ve caused a lot of pain to sprites who care about me, even before all this happened.

But, somehow… I’m not alone. I was never doomed to be alone. It’s taken me five years to realize that.

Along with it, I’ve realized that your mind can really become a world you’ve created around yourself. It feels like absolute truth and reality. But when you manage to look outside of that world, you realize how small your mind really is. The real world is a whole lot bigger than how you perceive it. Everyone has their own perception, too, probably very different from yours.

Everyone’s got their own colors. I have to remember that I can choose mine.

I choose to heal. I’m already on my way.

Even the funeral, scary as it was, felt like a big step.

I was afraid of how I would feel after. I was scared of the finality of it. I once believed all this to be a prank or a dream, and while I wanted to believe I'd abandoned those delusions… I think, even today, some small part of me still wanted to believe that you would spring out of hiding and relieve me of this cruel joke. Or that I could still wake up next to you and forget this whole nightmare by the end of breakfast. I was afraid that the funeral would feel like giving up hope, and in the process, I'd lose you even more than I already have.

It didn't feel like that, exactly. At least, not yet. For now, I feel… relieved. But exhausted. Like a huge weight has been lifted off my back, and after carrying it for so long, all I want to do is collapse into bed and rest. I am in bed as I write this, and I'm admittedly having trouble keeping my eyes open.

But I can’t seem to stop writing.

I know I should. I know I’m just pretending. I know I should get some sleep, because there is still so much more work ahead of me. Work that’s far more real and important than writing letters to a ghost. I’ve had an ache in my wrist for about a week, I keep having to shake this pen to get any ink out of it, and there are only a couple pages left in this notebook.

I’m just… afraid to stop. I’m afraid that it will mean this bedtime story is over. I’m afraid it will mean that it’s time to move on, and I’m not ready.

I’m not ready.

I’m glad I was able to give you some manner of send-off. I’m glad I was able to defend your memory. I feel relief from dealing with the anger I had been carrying on your behalf, and from the knowledge that I don’t have to mourn you alone anymore. I do not regret the funeral, not in the slightest. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t terrify me. You see, as the service went on, I noticed a pattern that just kept stabbing pins into my heart. Felix, Ralph, and Tapper’s letters all had a certain word in common, one that I neither wrote nor spoke.

‘Goodbye.’

As I wrote your letter, as I attempted to write lyrics for your song, as I improvised that speech about you, that word never crossed my mind. I did not arrange a funeral for the purpose of letting you go. I’m starting to see that I arranged it for the purpose of holding you tighter.

Through the whole service, I just couldn’t stop thinking about that moment in Felix’s apartment, when I was helping him clean up the ashes after my… explosive incident. When I was scrubbing the black off of his wall, and it struck me how time was moving forward without you. That feeling managed to be so healing and so devastating all at once. I accepted that I could never go back to our days together, but I refused to accept that I had to leave you behind entirely.

I can’t say goodbye. I knew you for four years, and I barely feel like I said hello. It feels like our story didn’t even end, it just trailed off into nothing. We began a new chapter the last night we were together, and then we just… stopped.

I just want to go back to that night. That moment when I realized how I really felt about you, and the few precious hours I was able to spend with you after. If I could do it all over again, I would have stayed up all night telling you everything I was too cowardly to say at the time. And the morning would never come to steal you away from me.

That must be part of why it’s so hard to move on. You were stolen. We promised to stay together forever. We had a future. For me, that’s everything. I came into this world already lost, with barely a role, barely any context. I could only ever see the day to day. The future was just this dark fog I ran into blindly. But then you came along. And you told me that no matter my future, you would be in it. You didn’t blow the fog away. You weren’t my destination. But you were a light. You were my star.

Then the sun came up, and took you away.

It’s so hard to accept that I can’t win you back. I can’t accept that my promise to you is out of my hands. I have to find a way to move on, and I will. But I can’t let you go. I won’t.

Listen, T… I said I was afraid the funeral would feel like giving up hope. It didn’t. I’m scared, but I’m more hopeful now than I’ve been since you left. I may have lost your light, but I have a clear direction to move in. I’m going to finish counselling and stay sober. I’m going to be free to roam the arcade again. I’m going to repair the relationships I nearly broke. I’m going to regain full color in my brush and take to the skies again very soon. It’s going to be hard. I know that. But I also know that I’ll be okay. I hope Felix is right, and you’re proud of me. I’m getting there myself.

But I swear… I can, and will, do it all without letting you go.

Forever. That’s what we promised. You being out of reach makes it harder, but I’ll find a way.

And… this is my most wishful thinking of all, but… I hope you’re keeping your promise, too.

Maybe it’s just the lack of sleep, but… I swear I can feel your eyes on me. I swear you’re curled up behind me, right now. My bed is never this warm when I’m alone. I know the illusion will be broken if I roll over, so for now…

If you really are reading over my shoulder… if the act of writing this feels like holding your hand for a reason… if I’m not just a lonely, heartbroken fool with an overactive imagination…

Keep your promise. Don’t let me go.

Rest here with me.

If there’s anything at all you can do for me, have it be this. Just stay by my side when I lie down at night. I’m so tired, Turbo. I am. I’ve dodged death more than once since you left. I’ve fought so hard to keep my head above water. I haven’t had a minute to just lay down my burdens and feel safe. But feeling you here, even in the small way I do now… I feel like I can breathe. I feel like our last night together never ended.

And it never will, because in Fix-it Felix Jr., the sun never rises. I’ve had many complicated emotions regarding the stars that glitter in the endless sky of my game, but tonight, I’m giving them a meaning better than any they’ve had before.

As long as I can see the stars, I’ll know you haven’t left me.

There’s never going to be a goodbye between us, Turbo. I promise you that. I’ll just say ‘goodnight.’ And I’ll say it again tomorrow.

And a thousand times more.

Forever isn’t over yet.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #make it mavis #fix it felix #turbo #tapper #original character #homesick #epilogue coming tomorrow!!

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shinsorokiri · 4 years

Text

UA Idol | Chapter Sixteen

Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Word Count: 2,290

Warnings: Language, hangover, mentions of throwing up, SO VERY SOFT

A/N: First chapter I will be posting today!! I’m expecting to post chapter seventeen in like seven hours because I want to make that one extra long like maybe 4,000 or so words (but no promises, Imma try though). There’s a lot that happened in this chapter, and I’m really happy I decided to rewrite it because holy SHIT I like this one better. I hope you enjoy it!!! Expect another chapter tonight! Thank you everyone for your support as well, it makes me so happy and I love all of you! 🥺

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You were woken up by the noise of your hotel door being slammed open and Denki yelling, “NO FUCKING WAY!” at the top of his lungs. You grumble, your head already hurt enough you didn’t need him making it worse. Besides being woken up like that is not a fun time. You wanted to stay in this oddly warm hotel bed longer. These blankets really made you feel like you were asleep with someone. Someone who smelled a lot like Shinsou. Huh, weird, why is that – OH MY GOD.

You both make eye contact at the same time, your faces both instantly getting red and your eyes wide. Before you can ask him what the hell happened, a look of panic flashes across his face before he genuinely sprints to the bathroom, the alcohol he ingested finding its way out of his body. You groan, the sound is making you feel a little nauseous, but you can hold in there. You just have a killer headache. “Woah, I’ve never seen him this hungover before,” Denki says to himself, slowly closing the door to give Shinsou some privacy while he faces the consequences of his actions. You groan, turning to look at Denki. He’s also hungover, and he definitely ran here after just leaping out of bed. “What do you want.”

You’re being blunt. You’re not in the mood. You just wanted to sleep, your head hurt, and your bed was cold now. “You, (Y/f/n) and Hitoshi Shinsou slept in the same bed together!” he exclaims, and, finally, Mina stirs. How she is such a heavy sleeper is beyond you. “Yeah. We were drunk, he probably just like, passed out or something,” you mumble, pulling the covers over your head when Mina clinks the bedside lamp on. Light hurt you. “Denki? When did you get here?” Mina asks, very confused and you groan. “He literally ran in here and screamed how the hell did you not hear him?”

“Because I was asleep.”

“Oh, my god.” You hear the bathroom door open, and then Denki says, “Oh, good to know you’re still alive.” Shinsou just grunts in response, sitting on the edge of your bed. “I should probably go back to our room. I feel like shit,” he mumbles, leaning over to rest his head in hihs hands. “No, actually, you just stay here. Mina and I made plans last night over text to go buy some designer clothes and clear out our bank accounts because we are young, dumb, and like designer clothes,” Denki says, and Mina, albeit also hungover, understands immediately that Denki is trying as hard as he possibly can to ensure that the two of you stay in the same room. Shinsou sighs. “Whatever. I can’t just stay in Mina and (Y/n)’s room, I’ll just–”

“Of course, you can!” Mina jumps in, popping out of bed and grabbing some clothes from her suitcase. Even though the chances were she and Denki would go to his room and recover before actually going shopping, she had to A) make it convincing that they were leaving and B) grab clothes for when they actually went. “You can take my bed! Or, you could just stay in bed with (Y/n). I mean, her bed is closer to the bathroom so you’d probably wanna stay there,” she suggests, and he grumbles. Before he can protest again, he feels your knee lightly hit his back. He pauses for a moment, but Mina and Denki take the pause as him agreeing. “Okay, cool! Great! We’ll see you two when y’all aren’t zombies! The medicine is in the bathroom, you should both take it!” With that, Denki and Mina rush out of the door and Shinsou sighs. He stands, wandering over to Mina’s bed before he’s stopped by your voice. “Shin, just stay in this bed. Like Mina said, it’s closer to the bathroom. And we shared it last night, it’s not a big deal.”

Oh, if only you knew what that just did to his heart. He absolutely doesn’t say no to you, and crawls under the covers immediately. He buries his head into the pillow as he feels you shift around to turn the lamp Mina turned on off. “No more light.”

“Thank fucking god,” he says, and you let out a small snort. “I’m sorry, I didn’t force you to take medicine last night apparently,” you mumble, and he sighs. “I must have forced you. You seem to be doing better than me.”

“Only by like 5%. Maybe. I’ll go grab the medicine and get us some water, that’s supposed to help,” you say, slowly getting out of bed. Unfortunately, the medicine he gave you didn’t work as well as you’d hoped. As soon as you stood up, you were immediately nauseous. Now it was your turn to sprint to the bathroom. Shinsou, being the gentleman he is, rushed in after you, instantly beginning to rub your back and make sure you were okay as you threw up. As much as his body wanted to also do what you were doing, somehow his care and worry for you cancelled it out. As long as he focused completely on you, everything would be okay. After you were done, he filled a cup of water, handing it to you to drink. “Maybe we should wait to take the medicine so we know it will actually stay down,” he suggests, sitting on the bathroom floor next to you. You nod. “I want to go back to bed, but I do not want to move from this spot,” you sigh, resting your head on the toilet seat. He stands, fighting off the nausea, and goes and grabs the blankets the two of you were bundled in last night. He brings them back, plopping down next to you and wrapping them around both of you. You find yourself melting into him, seeking out the warmth his body radiates as well as the comfort he never fails to give you. He wraps his arm around your body, humming as he pulls you against the wall so you’re both propped up in a more comfortable position. “Thank you,” you whisper, and he shrugs. “Anything for you,” he mumbles, quiet enough so only he could hear what he actually said. You just heard some type of grumble.

Before you know it, you both doze off in that position, only waking up every so often to face the downside of too much alcohol. You were both woken up at seven in the morning. It’s now nearing eleven in the morning. Luckily, the both of you were feeling a bit better. You both took medicine, thoroughly rinsed your mouths with mouthwash and water, and ventured back to your bed, but still kept the lights off. You laid down and found yourself gravitating toward Shinsou again. He complied almost instantly, opening his arms as soon as he felt like he was in a comfortable enough position to doze off while still having you in his arms.

He knows this is strange. He knows that two friends shouldn’t be holding each other after a night of drinking. But it’s you. Even if the two of you are just friends, he would do literally anything for you. He just didn’t want to admit it. Sadly, though, you’ve caught on to it just as well as he has. “What are we doing?” he hears you mumble, and he shrugs. “Seeking comfort in a desperate time?” he suggests, and you feel yourself smile. But, no. As much as that could be an answer, that wasn’t why the two of you were so attached to each other. “Seriously, Shinsou. What’s going on with this?”

He pauses. How does he answer. He can’t come out and tell you how he really feels, can he? I mean, yeah, he likes you. He’s known for a while. But he knows how much you hate relationships. He knows your last boyfriend hurt you, of course he doesn’t know exactly how but knowing that you were hurt is enough. And listening to your songs, he can piece together just how bad of a person this guy was.

And yeah, you like him. A lot. But you couldn’t deal with another heartbreak. You really couldn’t, truly you think you’d rather die. But every time you tried to stop thinking about him, he flooded your thoughts again. And every time you talked yourself out of wanting him, the next moment you talked to him you wanted him all over again. The connection the two of you had was a weird one. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find everything about him attractive. “I… I really don’t know. I just… can’t get enough of you,” he answers, quietly, but truthfully. You shift around so you can look at him. He bites his lip, and you purse yours. “Can’t get enough of me, huh?” you tease, and he smiles softly. “I don’t want to ruin what we have,” he really doesn’t. But truthfully, he should face the rejection now and move on with his life later than fall even more for you, “but I have to say, (Y/n). I’ve never met someone quite like you. I mean, your talent, your personality, your… everything. It’s… very addicting and honestly, I just can’t get enough of you. Even right now. There are some things I would love to do with you right now,” he says, his eyes darting to your lips. He wonders what it would be like to kiss you. Of course, this isn’t the first time he’s wondered. He has actually wondered quite a lot. Funny, he tried to push all those thoughts away but right now, he knows he can’t do that anymore.

“Hmmm,” you make a noise, your face contorting into your thinking face. He knows that face pretty well now. He sees it a lot. When you’re writing lyrics, when Mina asks a question, when you’re trying to figure out what chord progression to use in this new song you wrote, a bunch of different situations. And even though he thinks it’s adorable, his heart is beating way too fast with anxiety. He doesn’t expect you to want him back, he just hopes your friendship isn’t fucked. You’re quite literally, one of the best things that has ever happened to him. “Well, this is a predicament,” you mumble, and he raises an eyebrow. “Huh?” He’s confused. What do you mean by–

“I’m supposed to be the resident relationship hater and here I am, liking someone. A lot. This is a predicament. But it’s a predicament I am willing to live with.” He stares at you for a moment. Did you just… confess back…? “You mean…?”

“We can… have something between us. Under two conditions.”

“What conditions?” He’s way too eager to have whatever this is between you two continue, and he knows it. But he can’t help it. The things you do to him just aren’t fair. “We don’t put a label on it or tell anyone, no one else needs to know, especially Mina and Denki because then we wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

“Agreed.”

“And… no falling in love with each other. Okay? Just… a strong attraction towards each other, yeah?”

No falling in love. He should have seen that one coming. That will be… difficult, to say the least. But he understands where you’re coming from. He doesn’t want to fall in love either. That means another person to worry about, and call him selfish, but he really just… couldn’t handle that. He already had to worry about his mom every day. Adding you to that would be unfair to all parties involved. He nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay, cool.”

“Yep.”

“Sweet.”

“Question.”

“Answer?”

“Can I kiss you. Right now. Please?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And with that, he leans down, finally pressing his lips against yours. He’s kissed a few people in his day, and he’s good at it, but he’s never felt the feeling he got from a kiss quite like the feeling he got kissing you. He swore his hear was about to beat out of his chest, but so was yours. You were feeling the exact same way he was. Something about him was just… intoxicating and this kiss? Well, you imagine that this is what a first high would feel like. You’re going to want so many more afterwards. When you both pull away, you just stare at each other for a moment, before he breaks into a grin, and kisses your nose. “You look cute after I kiss you,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “And suddenly, noise is making my head hurt even worse,” you say, causing him to snort. “Hmmm, then how about you make me shut up?” he says, and you smirk. “Gladly.”

Thank GOD Mina and Denki were nowhere near you two. They would never let either of you live down what’s happening. Being quiet with this wouldn’t be that hard, in fact, a lot of it was going to be fairly easy. The two of you were already quite touchy feely with each other, so what exactly is going to change? Shinsou doesn’t seem to be the type to be big on PDA from what you know about him, so it’s not like he’s just randomly going to pull you in for a kiss. Besides, even if he did, you two don’t have a label. Just friends with… benefits. But maybe not the sexual part of that. Though you wouldn’t mind if that part was included. You fell asleep in his arms again. This was something you were getting used to, and he was, too.

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bolinshipskorrasami · 4 years

Text

Like a Comet Pulled From Orbit

Author’s Note: Alright ghouls, gals, and gents. Been working on this fic all week to beat away the angst that AoaW left me with! My first (and probably only?) Lumity fanfic, minimally edited. I honestly have no idea how it turned out, I’ve been staring at it too long. But I hope someone enjoys it!

Read here on ao3 if you prefer!

Summary: Luz takes Amity to see the musical Wicked in the human world. Conversations about shipping and drawing of fanart ensues, which helps both witches come to some long overdue realizations.

Like a Comet Pulled From Orbit

The winter air was crisp and cold as Luz exited the theater. Her nostrils burned for a moment as she breathed it in and her body adjusted to the difference from the warmth of the building. She glanced over towards Amity who was adjusting her scarf tighter around her neck, just a few steps behind her.

“So, what did you think?” she blurted out excitedly, unable to contain the question. She had been watching Amity’s reactions almost more than the show itself throughout the performance – Luz couldn’t help it. She was excited to share this with the other witch. For one, it was Amity’s first trip to the human world with her, so she wanted it to be a perfect and amazing experience for her friend. For another, Luz herself had seen Wicked on at least two other occasions with her mami. And listened to the soundtrack almost as endlessly as she had read books one through five of Good Witch Azura. Experiencing it through Amity’s reactions was like experiencing it for the first time all over again.

Amity didn’t answer right away, her brow creasing in that cute way Luz noticed it did whenever she was thoughtfully contemplating an answer to one of Luz’s questions. Luz always admired the amount of thought Amity put into her answers, so she always tried to give Amity the patience she needed.

In the meantime, she watched the crowd dispersing in the street and caught a snowflake with her tongue. It had started to flurry while they had been in the theater and a thin coat of snow littered the sidewalk and street around them. The way the snowflakes danced in the glow of the evening streetlights reminded her of her first light spell in the Boiling Isles. Despite being in the human world, Luz felt like tonight held so much magic within it, if only she could read the glyphs around her.

“It was really interesting… The music was so beautiful… you know, we don’t have music like that in the Boiling Isles,” Amity’s voice brought Luz back and she turned to face the green haired girl once more. Snow was starting to stick to the dark blue beanie she had borrowed from Luz to hide her ears – a detail they both might have forgotten, if not for Luz’s mama mentioning it on their way out the door. Luz thought it was a shame Amity had to hide any part of herself – but she did have to admit that her friend looked very adorable in the beanie. She might just have to let her keep it…

“Luz, are you even listening?” Luz’s attention snapped back to find an amused expression on her friend’s face. She returned a sheepish smile. “Sorry! Yes! I was also just thinking, we should find someplace warm to talk!” Okay, not exactly what she had been thinking, but close enough. She did notice Amity’s face was turning pink from the cold. Amity nodded in agreement.

“I think I know the perfect place, c’mon!” and with that, Luz grabbed Amity’s gloved hand and began to pull her down the snowy street.

***

“After you, Miss Blight,” Luz said as she opened the door to the coffee shop with dramatic flair and flourish, giving an overexaggerated bow as she gestured for Amity to enter. Amity, for her part, rolled her eyes but let out a small giggle, which warmed Luz’s stomach more than any coffee probably could.

They approached the counter together, and Luz began going over all the different drinks and giving her recommendations. Amity looked very overwhelmed. Luz gave her usual order of a caramel macchiato (made with almond milk, of course) with extra expresso. When the barista looked to Amity, she simply said “I’ll have one of those, too.”

Luz grinned and took out the cash her mom had given her before they left. Amity took out her own coin purse at the same time. Luz laughed and placed her hand on Amity’s, pushing the bag back down. “My treat! I don’t think they take snails here,” she whispered behind her other hand. She watched as Amity’s cheeks reddened and she mumbled a thanks.

They sat down with their drinks a few minutes later. The coffee shop was fairly empty, which made sense given how late in the evening it was. It felt nice to have Amity’s attention all to herself in such a warm, cozy place, away from the commotion of the Boiling Isles, away from school.

“So, did you have a favorite song?” Luz asked, slurping at her whipped cream.

Amity blinked rapidly, as if she was coming out of a dream. “What?”

“From the show,” Luz added, realizing her mind had probably jumped from point A to point Z as it sometimes did.

Amity’s cheeks glowed as she replied, “Oh, right… Well… all of them were so good, it’s hard to pick a favorite.”

“I know, right?!” Luz agreed, nearly spilling her drink in her excitement. She caught it just in time and Amity’s laughter rang out prettier than sleigh bells. The sound made Luz’s insides squirm and for a moment she wondered if they had put dairy in her drink by accident.

“But… if I had to pick… I really liked that one near the end that Elphaba and Glinda sang together. I thought it was sweet.” Amity looked down at her drink as she finished her thought. She had taken the cover off and was swirling it around, as if she were in the oracle track trying to read a crystal ball or tea leaves maybe. “What… is this exactly?”

“It’s deliciousness in a cup! Try it!” Luz responded, taking another gulp. Amity sipped slowly, with the kind of poise Luz only ever saw in commercials when people drank beverages. How did she do things so gracefully anyway? She watched Amity’s reaction with the anticipation of someone watching their favorite grudgeby team go for a goal.

Amity’s face lit up like the stage lights in the opening number as she let out a drawn out “mmmmmm” of satisfaction. “It’s good, right?” Luz said for confirmation, grinning ear to ear.

“It’s so different from anything on the Boiling Isles!” Amity agreed. They sat in a moment of silence, enjoying their drinks.

“Don’t you find it kind of… sad though?” Amity said suddenly.

Luz tilted her head in confusion. “Did you already finish your drink? I can get you another one –”

Amity shook her head, smiling at Luz’s reaction. “No, I meant the show. I mean, Glinda lost her best friend…”

Luz considered this. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right, that is sad. But I mean, she had still had Fiyero!”

“Yeah, I guess… I don’t know, their relationship seemed kinda of… contrived. I mean, one minute he’s with Glinda about to get married and then he suddenly runs off with Elphaba?”

“No way! He was inspired by her the whole time though. And when they saved that little lion cub together… I mean, talk about romance!”

Amity scoffed, “Yeah, but Elphaba and Glinda had so much more chemistry, even when they were singing about how much they hated each other-”

Luz gasped, genuinely surprised but understanding now. “You’re a Gelphie shipper?!”

Amity looked like she didn’t know whether she should deny this as some sort of insult or defend it to the death. Probably because she had no clue what Luz was talking about. “A what now?”

“You know, Glinda and Elphaba, Gelphie. It’s their ship name!” Luz pulled out her phone and typed furiously until she had several bits of fanart sprawled across her screen. She held it out in front of Amity’s face.

“Oh,” was all her friend replied, her mouth accentuating the syllable as it stayed in place and her golden eyes darted across the screen. She regained her composure after a few moments, blinking rapidly.

“Well… yes. I suppose I am a… Gelphie shipper then,” Amity sat up straighter as she said it but her face held something that was difficult for Luz to read. Funny how she could read magical glyphs from an enchanted island but her friend’s face was, at times, absolutely indecipherable. “Is that… bad?” Amity asked, and Luz realized she hadn’t responded in an appropriate amount of time.

She gave a laugh, hoping to dispel some of the tension. “No! Of course not. I mean, who doesn’t love a good old-fashioned Enemies to Friends to Lovers trope, amiright?” Luz waggled her eyebrows suggestively for emphasis. Amity tried to hide her smile in her coffee cup, but Luz could tell her plan had worked.

The commotion of chairs scraping the floor and being stacked on tables suddenly penetrated their little bubble, reminding Luz how late it was. “We should probably get going – I wanna make one last stop on our way back to my house!” She informed Amity excited, standing and putting her coat back on.

“Lead the way, oh fearless champion,” Amity replied, a more reserved imitation of Luz’s gestures from earlier. Luz smiled and took her hand, leading her out the door. They weren’t even outside completely before Amity’s face was already pink from the cold again.

***

Amity’s heart was beating so fast and hard as she followed Luz through the strange hard and slippery roads of the human world. She wondered for a moment if maybe coffee was poisonous to witches… then again, Luz hadn’t let go of her hand even after they had exited the coffee shop, walking quickly and excitedly chattering as they went. She supposed that could have something to do with it.

Luz pointed out different things that Amity might not be familiar with and normally Amity would be fascinated to learn about this strange new world. But the hand holding was very distracting. And her heart was very loud. And it was all a little overwhelming, but she really didn’t want it to end. She watched Luz as she spoke about human things like cars, traffic lights, and a thing called “Santa” they passed by. He appeared to be some sort of… demon maybe? He rang a bell and smiled too widely and made a strange sort of howling noise. Luz paid him a tribute – perhaps for safe passage across the road? - of the strange papers she carried around that seemed to act as the equivalent to snails in the human world.

“Where are we going?” Amity finally asked as Luz paused her tour guide-like speech to look both ways before tugging her across the road toward a small park they had passed on the way here.

“It’s a surprise! Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” Luz squeezed her hand reassuringly, excitement dancing across her features, making the warm brown of her cheeks glow in the moonlight.

As they entered the park and Amity began to look around, she realized it wsn’t moonlight at all. It was what looked to Amity to be a million different stars – or maybe they were light spells? – glowing in the trees all around them. Some of them sparkled in a kaleidoscope of color – red, green, blue, yellow. It was absolutely dazzling, unlike anything Amity had ever seen.

“Oh wow…” was all Amity could manage to say, staring in awe at the scene around them.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Luz said proudly with a big grin, as if she had personally produced all these little lights for Amity.

“It’s… amazing. What is this place, Luz? I thought you said the human world didn’t have magic?” Amity took her glove off and reached out her hand to hesitantly hover over the enchantment of the trees.

Luz gave a chuckle. “It’s not magic – well, I mean, not like on the Boiling Isles. These are Christmas lights. They use electricity like the streetlights around town.” Luz reached out and placed one in Amity’s hand, as if sensing her uncertainty. Amity pinched the light between her fingers, feeling its fragile little warmth against her skin.

“How strange,” she commented. “Everything here is so wonderfully strange…” Amity’s voice trailed off as she continued to look around her. The collective brightness in the trees lit up the space around them in a hazy glow. It made the whole moment feel more like a dream than reality.

“C’mon, there’s more to see! This path will take us closer to my house, too,” Luz said, breaking Amity out of her trance. Luz grabbed her arm this time, tugging her along.

As they walked, the lights morphed into different shapes and figures. Luz explained this was all for some human holiday and pointed out some of the different symbols for Amity. A candy cane. A reindeer. A gingerbread man (that one she was pretty sure that one was actually a demon from the Boiling Isles, but she didn’t mention it). Amity wasn’t sure what was more beautiful – the glorious and picturesque glow of the lights with the snow falling around them onto the trees; or Luz as she spoke excitedly about each light picture, sometimes elaborating with a story about her mom or growing up in the human world. Amity never wanted it to end.

***

By the time they got back to Luz’s house, it was late and they were both exhausted from all the walking and being in the cold for so long. Luckily, Luz’s mom – Ms. Noceda (who Amity had learned earlier, was not in fact, named Ms. the Human) – had already made up their sleeping arrangements in Luz’s bedroom. She asked them how the show was and while Amity said a few things here and there when asked directly, she mostly let Luz do the talking. Ms. Noceda was very warm and kind to her – which was more than she could probably say for how her parents would ever treat Luz. It made her feel a bit guilty, that she couldn’t return the same favor to Luz. But she tried not to think about that.

Which, as it turned out, was very easy once Ms. Noceda turned in.

“Buenos noches, mija. Good night, Amity. See you both bright and early!” she said as she kissed Luz on the forehead and waved at Amity. They were both in their respective sleeping bags on the floor beside Luz’s bed. When Ms. Noceda flicked the lights off, hundreds of stars lit up the ceiling of Luz’s room. Amity was left alone with the sound of her own obnoxious heartbeat. Where she was expected to sleep. Next to the girl she liked. Why had she agreed to this again?

“I still can’t believe you got your parents to say yes to a sleepover in the human world!” Luz whispered conspiratorially.

“Heh, yeah, I mean, no big deal…” Amity said, glad the lack of light would hide her blush. She may have left out a few details. Like how she had, in fact, used a combination of blackmail and bribery on Edric and Emira in order to get them to produce an illusion copy of herself for bedtime and breakfast. She was going to be doing their chores for a very long time.

“You know, I think this is my first real sleepover,” Luz said. Amity looked at her, surprised. “Really?”

“Well, I mean, there was that one time Willow, Gus, and I used the Moonlight Conjuring to take the Owl House for a drive…” Amity laughed, remembering the look on Boscha’s face when she had seen that on Penstagram. Not that hers had probably looked any different.

“But, I’m not really sure that counts, since we didn’t get much sleep,” Luz continued thoughtfully.

“You didn’t have any sleepovers with any of your human friends?” Amity asked, still somewhat surprised by this revelation.

“Heh… No. I didn’t really… I don’t have any human friends, really,” the tone in Luz’s voice pinched at Amity’s heart a bit. In all the time they’d known each other, she had never really thought to ask about Luz’s life in the human world or her other friends. And now she knew why Luz herself had never mentioned any, either. Instinctively – whether to comfort herself or Luz, she wasn’t quite sure – Amity reached hand out to grasp one of Luz’s.

“Well, I’m glad we’re friends, Luz,” Amity said. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be brave enough to tell Luz everything she felt for her – it felt too big, too fragile. She was too afraid of it breaking. But she needed Luz to know this truth at least. That she mattered. That she was grateful to have her around.

Luz’s eyes widened in surprise at first, but a warm smile quickly followed as she squeezed Amity’s hand back. “Me too. Even if you are going soft on me, Blight,” Luz replied playfully. Amity rolled her eyes and yawned, which made Luz yawn too.

They laid there, eyes drooping heavily as sleep began to take them both. The small part of Amity’s mind that was still conscious enough to have a coherent thought realized that Luz hadn’t let go of her hand, even as her breathing slowed and she began to snore quietly. In that moment, as she let herself drift off to sleep, she decided that even if she had to do Ed and Em’s chores for the rest of eternity, it was totally worth it.

***

The next day, Luz kissed her mama good-bye – she still had a week left of winter vacation and that meant more time at Hexside. That was part of the deal – as long as Luz kept her grades up and didn’t cause too much commotion at human school, her mami had agreed that she could spend vacations learning magic in the Boiling Isles. She and Amity packed up their things from their sleepover and met Eda at the portal. She gave them a ride to school on her staff. Luz was sad to leave the human world behind if only because she had really enjoyed showing Amity around. Amity had seemed so relaxed... Maybe it had been stepping away from the pressures of her life in the Boiling Isles.

School that day was hard to sit through. This wasn’t unusual for Luz, but it didn’t usually happen during her classes at Hexide. Her mind kept drifting away from the lectures and into the magic of last night. Watching Amity take her first sip of coffee, listening to Amity talk about the show, watching her experience Christmas lights for the first time…

“Hello, earth to Luz!” suddenly a hand was waving in her face. She blinked before looking at Gus and Willow.

“Wha- Sorry! What’d I miss?” Luz asked. Gus and Willow exchanged looks.

“You mean besides all of class?” Gus said. He looked down at the paper in front of Luz, which she had been doodling on.

“You better not zone out like that in Magical Plants today. We’re dealing with man-eating mandrakes today!” Willow said with a nudge. “What were you drawing anyway?”

Luz looked down at her latest creation. “Oh, it’s just characters from that musical Amity and I saw last night…” Luz suddenly felt like she wanted to hide it, like it was a private secret she wasn’t quite ready to share with the rest of her friends. Which was… weird. That was probably a weird feeling to have, right? She nonchalantly slipped it into her bag and stood up to move to the next class with her friends. Willow gave her a funny look but didn’t say anything more.

“Well I’ve got High Level Illusions next – what about you guys?” Gus asked as they walked into the hallway.

“I’ve got abomination next,” Luz said excitedly. She swore she saw Gus and Willow exchange another look. Then again, maybe she was reading too much into it.

“We’ll see you and Amity at lunch then?” Willow asked. Luz nodded, high fived Gus, and practically ran down the hallway to her next class, just barely avoiding a hall monitor as she went.

***

Abomination class went by much more quickly than the rest of her day had and she had even managed to pay attention to most of the lesson. There was the occasional distraction, like whenever she looked over to Amity who sometimes chewed on her pencil when she was thinking through an answer. She also must have gotten distracted when mixing her abomination ingredients at some point, because while Amity’s looked absolutely perfect, Luz’s had come out with an extra head and oddly misshapen. It wasn’t a total loss though, since she had managed to get Amity to laugh by trying to get her abomination to reenact one of the scenes from the show from last night.

She walked Amity to her locker after class – Amity’s abomination carried both their books – and they were first to their lunch table. While waiting for Gus and Willow, they talked more about the finer points of the musical.

“So, how was your date in the human world?” Willow asked as she and Gus sat down across from Luz and Amity.

Luz almost choked on whatever mystery meat she was eating for lunch today – she pounded her fist on her chest to clear her throat. “Date?” she choked out. Is that- did Amity think- had she really missed…?

She heard a strangled gasp from beside her and turned to look at Amity, who returned her gaze. Her face was as red as a specific shade of eye shadow she’d seen Eda wear once. She was pretty sure it was called apple blood – or maybe it was vampire blood? In any case, their eyes darted between each other and Willow, both stunned into silence.

Willow’s eyes widened, as if she just realized her mistake. “Oh – I just mean, um-“ whatever excuse she was going to use to save them all from this mortifying moment, Gus put a stop to it just then as he arrived at their table and took his seat next to Willow.

“Hey Luz! Do you have time to stop by after school today and check out some new artifacts I found for the H.A.S.?”

Luz finally swallowed the mouthful she had dislodged from her throat. “Sure!” she said. She then proceeded to shove way more of her lunch into her mouth than she should have, cheeks full as a chipmunk’s before winter.

“I- I just remembered um, I have a meeting with Principal Bump about my class schedule – I gotta go!” Amity stood up abruptly, bumping the table as she went. She disappeared down the hallway with alarming speed. As she moved, something dropped out of her bag, fluttering to the floor.

“Amity wait! You forgot-” Luz tried to call after her, but she was already gone. She bent to pick up the paper – there was a good chance she’d run into her later in the day and she could give it back to her then…

But as Luz looked at the paper in question, it was as if a firecracker went off in her stomach and her mind blanked out, like static on a TV, before the entire picture snapped back on, clearer than it had ever been. “Oh cramity…” she muttered to herself, realization flooding through her.

Gus and Willow, having witnessed all of this, shared a glance with each other. “Are you and Amity okay?” Gus asked, a puzzled look on his face.

“Yeah… I might need to raincheck you on the HAS meeting though, Gus! There’s something I gotta do after school today! I’ll explain later, gotta go!” and with that Luz launched herself from the table, vibrating with excitement and purpose.

As she fled the cafeteria, she heard Gus’s confused reply. “Sure! Good luck! Wait… what’s a raincheck?”

***

The school day could not end fast enough for Amity Blight. She needed to get as far away from this ultimate place of humiliation as quickly as possible. She considered skipping out on her afternoon classes altogether – Ed and Em did it all the time, for crying out loud! – but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Fortunately, she didn’t have any classes with Luz, Willow, or Gus on her schedule for the day, which was a relief. But what about tomorrow? She thought to herself. Maybe she could convince her parents that she was sick with demon flu? Maybe she could just convince them she should transfer schools altogether… that seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution to this whole crush problem, right?

When the last bell finally screamed, signaling dismissal, she didn’t even go to her locker to put her books away. Too much of a risk, running into Luz again. She needed more time to think, figure out what to say. She had acted way too weird when Willow said the D word. Why hadn’t she just played it cool and waved it off?

She didn’t see Luz and co at all as she made her way out the front doors, for which she was thankful. But ofc ourse that luck only stretched so far as Ed and Em came sidling up beside her.

“Mittens! How was your date night with our favorite human? Did you ask for her hand in marriage yet?” Em cut right to the point, looping their arms together.

“Yeah sis, tell us everything!” Edric’s arm fell over her shoulders as they sandwiched her in, leaving no room for escape. “Leave no details out! Well, except for your smooching, we don’t need to hear about-”

Amity could not handle this right now. She felt her face heat up to what could only be described as an unhealthy degree, embarrassment and anger both boiling over.

“QUIT IT!” she shouted, her arms flying outward, knocking the twins away from her. Everything starts feeling like too much and Amity feels pinpricks behind her eyes. She can’t go home, not like this. Not with Em and Ed teasing her the whole way. “I gotta go study at the library, let mom and dad know I’ll be home later,” Amity says quickly, willing her voice to stay steady as she speeds up her pace.

“Oh c’mon Mittens, was it something we said?” Edric shouted after her. She didn’t stop to reply, just kept her eyes forward, determined to get to her destination as quickly as possible.

***

As soon as she walked into the town library, Amity felt a sense of relief wash over her. She took a deep breath, the scent of paper and dust covered books grounding her. The quiet atmosphere settled her nerves. In here, she felt safe. In here, she can breathe and clear her head of the day’s troubles.

She spent some time just wandering through the stacks, keeping an eye out for new additions in her favorite sections. The anxieties of her day begin to shed little by little, clearing her mind enough for her to rethink the events. Maybe things weren’t really as bad as she had initially thought. Afterall, Luz could be pretty oblivious. There was no reason to lose her head about it all – it’s not like Amity herself had called it a date, after all.

Amity finally found herself in front of the romance section and, after looking around her to be sure no one saw, she tugged at “The Lone Witch and the Secret Room.” Yes, everything was going to be just fin-

Amity froze as she entered her sanctuary and the shelf slid shut behind her. Her bag dropped out of her hands and her eyes widened.

“Luz-”

“Hey Amity!-” they both spoke at the same time, their greetings smashing together awkwardly.

“What are you-”

“I wanted to see-” they both started and stopped again. The absurdity of it all helped ease some of Amity tension and she let out a laugh. Luz followed suit, taking a step closer to where Amity stood still by the doorway.

“Amity, hey, I’m sorry I know this is like, your space and everything. I just… I didn’t know where else to look for you after you left during lunch today…” Luz finally broke through to explain. Amity shifted her weight from one leg to the other, feeling a big guilty. So she had noticed her abrupt exit.

“Leave lunch? Oh, yeah, well, you know, I had to uh, I forgot to turn in my abomination assignment, and I didn’t want it to be late, you know-” Amity grasped for any words that would make this scrutiny disappear. Luz simply raised an eyebrow.

“Did you say you had to meet with Principal Bump…” Luz started and Amity felt her heart lodge itself somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

Luz suddenly shook her head, “You know what, nevermind! It doesn’t matter. What matters is, you dropped this.” Luz pulled out a folded piece of paper, moving into Amity’s space even more now.

Amity took the offered paper and while she unfolded it, she couldn’t help but be reminded of the time Grometheus the Fearbringer had taken her most cherished note and ripped it to pieces right in front of her. The paper, when unfolded, revealed her most recent self-indulgent drawing – a picture of Luz in a black hat and matching black robe standing arm-in-arm with a poorer rendition of herself in a huge blue gown and sparkling tiara. Amity was sure her face would explode with the amount of blood that rushed to it in that moment.

“Luz- I – I can explain-” she began to stutter, her hands gripping the paper tightly. Her vision started to blur just a little and she had the horrifying realization that she might just start to cry. How could she have let this happen? Why in the world would she keep this in her bag? Why hadn’t she realized –

“I think it’s some of your best work,” Luz’s voice derailed her bleak train of thought.

“Wait… what?” Amity’s eyes snapped up to look at the human girl in from of her. Her brown eyes twinkled warmly in the dimly lit room.

“Yep! But, I have to say I don’t quite agree with your characterization,” Luz said matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” was all Amity could manage. Her stomach dropped again and she readied herself for the rejection that was surely coming her way. It would be okay, at least Luz seemed like she would still be her friend, and that’s really all she needed anyway. As long as their friendship was still intact, she could handle this, even if it hurt.

Luz pulled out another sheet of paper. “Yeah, as much as I hate to admit it, I really don’t think I’m Elphaba, the most powerful witch in all of Oz,” Luz placed the second paper over the one Amity had been holding to reveal a new, unfamiliar drawing. Two figures faced each other in a somewhat reverent post, hands clasped between them as they stared at each other. This time, Amity was clearly drawn as Elphaba, her green hair poking through the black witch’s hat, her black robe billowing dramatically in what was clearly supposed to be the wind. Across from her was-

“I’m clearly the Fiyero to your Elphaba,” Luz finished, gesturing to her likeness which was dressed in green suspenders and button up with a scarecrow hat upon her head.

“You… think that I’m Elphaba?” Amity asked incredulously. It was not even the most important question to be asking in that moment, but it was the only one her mouth and brain seemed capable of producing together. She was holding a drawing… that Luz had made… of her. Of them together. Oh.

“Well, yeah, it’s that obvious? I mean, you’re a powerful witch, she’s a powerful witch. You both have that cute, goth look going on for you. Plus, she cares about fairness and I know you like to pretend to be indifferent, but I know you secretly care a lot about those things, too.”

Amity continued to stare at the picture, afraid to look away. Her brain continued to short circuit. Did Luz just call her cute?! “And you’re…”

“Fiyero, yeah! I mean, he is kind of her fearless champion and all that. Plus ‘maybe I’m brainless, maybe I’m wise…’ you know, it took him a while to figure it all out, too.”

Amity’s eyes snapped up from the drawing at this. Was Luz saying… what she thought she was saying? Luz smiled and in a perfectly Luz way, continued on a different train of thought.

“Anyway, I took some artistic liberties with the outfit. I liked the suspender outfit better, but thought the hat really tied it all-”

“Luz,” Amity interrupted. “Luz, it’s perfect. Thank you.” Before Amity fully gave her body permission to, she threw her arms around Luz and squeezed her tightly. Luz hugged her back without hesitation, a rumble of a laugh coming from her chest.

“That’s what girlfriends do,” Luz said quietly. Amity pulled back suddenly, still maintaining contact with her hands grasping Luz’s forearms.

“I mean – only if that’s what you want, of course. I didn’t mean to assume, I just meant-” Luz’s face went through about several different emotions so quickly, Amity couldn’t help but double over in a hearty laugh. All the pressure and uncertainly she had been feeling melted away, leaving her feeling like she was light and airy.

“Sorry, it’s just-” Amity tried to reel in her mirth and catch her breath, forcing words out, “-I’ve been trying to tell you all this for the past year and today you just… show up and call me your girlfriend. It’s just so… you, Luz.” Luz grinned self-consciously, blushing for the first time since Amity had entered her secret hideaway.

They stared at each other, this newfound revelation hovering between them, it’s own little spell casting them in silence. Amity was suddenly aware of her heart pounding in her chest again as she watched Luz take a step forward towards her. “Can I…?” Luz asked, in the same soft tone she had used that night in the woods when she had offered to take the weight of Grom off Amity’s shoulders.

Amity nodded slowly as she followed, leaning in to close the gap very slowly, her eyes fluttering as they closed. This was magical, she couldn’t believe she was here, with Luz, and Luz liked her back and they were about to-

“OOOOOH, Mittens in busted!”

All at once, bright light and noise crashed into the room from behind Amity as Ed’s voice broke through he enchanting atmosphere she and Luz had created for themselves. The jarring burst of their bubble caused Amity to jump forward, feet tripping over Luz’s and causing them both to topple to the floor. She landed on top of Luz, her head bumping Luz’s as she did so. “Ow – Luz! I’m so sorry!” Amity exclaimed, rubbing her forehead with one hand while she tried to push herself up with the other.

Luz let out a gasp of breath, “It’s ok! I’m good,” she said as she sat up on her elbows. She raised an eyebrow as she added, “Though I do believe you’ve fallen for me, Blight.” A cheesy grin spread on Luz’s face.

Before Amity had time to respond to that, she heard the sniggers of Em and Ed, still standing in the doorway. She shot up and whirled around on them. She really did need to find a new hideaway, didn’t she?

“YOU TWO, why are you here?! Get out!” She wished she could summon a fire spell without the fear of burning down the whole ancient library.

Emira walked past her and offered a hand to Luz, who was still on the ground. “Now, Mittens, is that anyway to treat your new girlfriend?” Edric for his part threw an arm around Amity’s shoulders and ruffled her hair. “Would we really be good siblings if we didn’t come check on you? After all, you were looking so sour after school! We were worried!”

“Yeah, but it looks like Luz beat us to it! Who knew the human had game,” Emira said, throwing an arm around Luz and giving her a wink. Luz’s cheeks turned pinker than Amity had ever seen them. She glowered at her sister and shoved her brother’s arm off.

“Get. Out. Now. Or I swear, I am going to summon the world’s biggest abomination to kick your-”

“Alright, alright, we’ll give you two love birds a few minutes. But mom really does want us home soon, Mittens,” Emira said, surprising Amity. She and Edric headed towards the doorway again, laughing together as they went. At the door, Ed shouted over his should, “Just remember to save room for-”

Amity took the nearest book she could find and threw it after him. He dodged gleefully and disappeared around the corner. She turned back to see Luz trying to hide her laughter behind her hand. She wasn’t doing a very good job, but the sight made some of Amity’s annoyance fade away.

“You know, I really should be getting back to Eda’s… King gets grumpy when I don’t come home and give him tummy scritches and Eda will probably be worried since I wasn’t at school to get picked up. I’m surprised they haven’t sent a search party out yet…” Luz said apologetically.

Amity sighed, but nodded. “Yeah, I really should get back home, too.”

Luz shifted her bag back over her shoulder, bouncing from one foot to another. “So… I’ll see you tomorrow at school? Maybe afterwards, we can do some Azura Book Club stuff?”

Amity felt herself brighten at the invitation. “Yeah, that sounds grood. I mean, good, uh great! That sounds great!”

“Okay, it’s a date,” Luz said happily. Then she moved forward and wrapped Amity into a big, squeezing hug, practically lifting her feet off the ground in the process. As she set her down and moved back, Amity felt the unmistakable feeling of Luz’s lips brushing against her cheek. The warmth of the contact spread until her whole face was on fire. Luz looked at her and smiled bashfully. “See you tomorrow, Blight,” and with that, she made her way out the door.

Amity stood there, frozen to the spot, her hand coming up to touch her cheek, as if she could catch the sensation before it fluttered away. Wow.

The moment was broken when, 5 seconds later, Luz came rushing back in.

“I almost forgot!” she said as she snatched up the drawings that had been scattered to the floor. She shook the one that Amity had drawn. “Can I keep this? It’s really good!”

Maybe it was the casual compliment or lingering effects of Luz calling her her girlfriend – her girlfriend – or just the adorable way Luz’s face just looked so genuine, but Amity experienced an unexpected surge of confidence. Before she could overthink it, she stepped forward, took hold of front of Luz’s school uniform, and pulled her into a kiss. It was a quick kiss – short, soft, and sweet. But when she pulled back, she felt satisfied to see Luz sufficiently dumbstruck, eyes widened and cheek turning pink.

“Yes. But only if I get to keep yours,” Amity said, plucking the other sketch out of Luz’s hand. Luz blinked slowly.

“Yeah, you can kave it. Keep it. You can have it!” Luz stuttered out her reply.

Amity grabbed her things, slipping the picture carefully into a book before putting it into her bag. She walked over to the doorway before turning back to Luz. “Coming?”

Luz nodded, following her out. They walked hand in hand out of the library and for once, Amity found it easy to ignore the twin’s teasing.

#lumity #amity blight #luz noceda #owl house #toh #fanfic #my fic #original work #ahhhhhhhh idk please be kind and have mercy on me I haven't written in a long ass time

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wonderlander-i · 4 years

Text

How to nail a study date when you’re not even dating

Pairing : Beckett Harrington x f! MC (Eli Russell)

Warnings : none, it's pure fluff (if you exclude one bad word... Or maybe two 😂)

Words count : 2,5k

Author's Note : The world needs a little bit of domestic love and well... I'm an emotional ball of drama who'd rather spend a week working on this than read my school books.

*sends virtual hugs to everyone*

On the afternoon of a rainy autumn day, Eli stood by the closed window of her dorm room, watching the clear water droplets hit the glass then race down to the wooden frame. She smiled to herself. Being a sun att and all, she loved the summer. But there was something about the rain that calmed her buzzing mind. This whole season brought her soul to an unusual peace. The mixture of the earthy sweet smell rising from the ground, the unanticipated flashes of the lightning followed by the roaring thunder in the darkening sky, the steady beats of the drizzle when it meets the window. She hugged her arms tight, humming to herself a song. She barely noticed when the door opened, and Becket stepped in with a pile of books in a hand and a dripping umbrella in the other. He set the books carefully on her desk and looked around. She already had her hanging lights on the wall next to her bed, and they were casting a soft glow across the room. It smelled the gentle spice and freshly baked cookies. That was no mystery to him; she had something baked for him each time he visited.

Finally, his eyes landed on her. And he chuckled when he noticed that she was wearing a pink cotton onesie. He walked to join her by the window, where she was deep in her thoughts.

“It’s beautiful” He mumbled, looking at the rain pouring from the grey clouds.

“Yes” she sighed wistfully “And you’re late” She turned to face him, poking his chest.

“I had to fetch my umbrella”

She shrugged “Still not an excuse”

“I brought us some hot chocolate”

“That’s a damn good excuse”

He clicked his fingers, and two mugs appeared on the desk next to his books.

“I couldn’t carry them all the way to your room, it’s too cold outside”

“And you wouldn’t miss a chance to show off your powers” She rolled her eyes, amused.

“That’s nonsense” he objected, swishing his fingers to channel an air current around her. She crossed her arms over her chest as the air pushed her straight to her bed, making her fall on top of the mattress.

“you pretentious little–” She got up, but he was already sitting down next to her. He handed her one of the mugs, and the rich smell of chocolate persuaded her to let this one slip through. He opened one of the books on his lap.

“I found this one is the hidden aisle in the library, I thought you’d find it interesting”

“Pendragon: a history of mythical fire breathers” She read out loud “You mean to tell me that dragons are real?” her eyes lit up as she flipped the pages, stopping at the drawn image of a burgundy creature with fire bursting from its mouth. “The Morelth Nighthowler” She ran her index finger under the name “Burns his victims alive after trapping them in…”

“Slow down” He interrupted her laughing “You didn’t know?”

“How am I supposed to know?” She furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s not like I walk around asking people if leprechauns exist. Or how the dwarfs keep their beards perfectly trimmed”

“To answer your questions, yes and dwarfs go to barbers like anyone else would do”

“That was sarcasm!” She exclaimed “Wait are they really that short? do they really have a hidden pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?”

A strange warmth invaded his chest when he looked at her excited expressions. Born to a magical family, nothing was unusual or unbelievable to him. All the things that made Eli’s eyes go wide were mere facts to him. To be the one who introduces her to these small fragment of their world, of the world she lived far away from for most of her life, was an honour he didn’t believe he deserved. He shared all his knowledge with her, not holding back anything. And it made him... Proud ? No... Happy. Happy that she’d listen to everything he teaches her. Happy that she was passionate about those things the same way he was. Happy that she understood him.

“Eliana, your curiosity is a breath of fresh air” He chuckled “Let’s start from the beginning now shall we?”

She nodded, scooping closer to him so she’d get a better view as he flipped to the first page and started reading to her “Chapter one... “

Many hours later, he was halfway through the book when something clicked inside her head. She picked up a sharpie and looked at him with a strange glow in her eyes.

“It has been proven that his scales could be useful to treat battle wounds if they’re properly smashed and mixed with Hooded Skullcaps at high temperature to make a salve–”

He stopped reading when Eli leaned forward and started drawing lines from his cheekbones to his nose.

“What are you doing?” He asked her, crinkling his nose as he felt the ink running across his face.

“Playing ‘connect the dots’ ” she replied, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“On my face?” he arched an eyebrow, still confused

“Yes”

“With a sharpie?”

“Yes” she huffed; blowing away a strand of hair that slipped from her bun and fell on her forehead

“May I ask why?” He shook his head, waiting for her answer.

She didn’t reply, biting her lips instead as she studied his face, contemplating her work. After few moments of silence, she mumbled.

“Orion”

“Excuse me?”

“Orion, the hunter” A grin broke into her face. “Your freckles match the constellation”

He was speechless. He looked at her, his jaw dropping. How does she manage to make everything poetic? Moreover, for how long did she need to gaze at his freckles before she could join them up into a constellation? Did the Eli Russell really pay him that much attention?

“Right” He cleared his throat, looking away blushing. He took a sip of his drink “Maybe you can focus back on your lesson now?”

“You’re so bossy” she rolled her eyes, shifting her gaze back to the page he was reading.

“The Cordonian Gronkaloth dragon” He carried on “Though it was thought to be a descendant of the latter, was nothing compared to the Corpsebreath Pelagius, which was last spotted in the Irish highlands in 1783. With its ability to change the colour of its scales to fade in the surrounding environment, this beast represented a major threat to the kingdom…”

Eli smiled to herself, looking at him recite the history passages as if they were poetry. She loved the way he was passionate about it, as if he was lost in the words that ran from his lips like a sweet melody. Everything makes sense when it comes out of his mouth. It was his secret talent perhaps. His eyes twinkle with every name of a forgotten king he reads. The corners of his lips lift up to a discreet smile whenever he stumbles upon a reference from an ancient historian. Sitting there beside him, with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands and a blanket around their shoulders, was her favourite getaway spot. Just seeing him all relaxed in his world made her heart flutter. And she felt grateful that he never rejects her when she asks him to come over. Little did she know that he’d throw away any plans he had scheduled for the day each time she’d call him, that their study sessions meant more to him than to her. She was roughly the only person he’d be willing to read to.

“The prohibition law came afterward on January 1863” His voice ran through the room “banishing every act of… Eli, are you following?” He paused, looking at her from the corners of his eyes.

“You aren’t wearing a blazer” She ran her fingers across his arm, caressing the fabric of the dark green wool sweater that replaced his usual button-ups and blazers.

“I’m not” This came out more like a question than a statement, looking down at his sweater. “This is more suitable for the season isn’t it?”

“Well” she chuckled “It’s refreshing to see the ‘Always-put-up-together-Beckett’ cozy up”

“Excuse me?” He raised an eyebrow “Are you saying that I’m uptight?”

“Of course not!” She exclaimed “More like…constipated” She giggled, covering her mouth with her fist.

He glared daggers at her, but the smile that he was fighting to hide gave him away eventually.

“Very funny, miss ‘I wear pink more than I wear my own skin’” He smirked.

“That’s not true!” She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, which he easily caught before it made contact with his face.

“And you’re not wearing a pink onesie” He pointed out “With this... unicorns and rainbows pattern”

“But... It’s cute” She pouted, giving him the biggest puppy eyes she could manage.

Don’t say it Beckett.

Don’t give her the satisfaction of hearing it from you.

Her eyes grew more insistent, and he sighed defeatedly .

“Yes, it is cute”

Her face light up, mischief gleaming her eyes. “Hum...” She tilted her head to the side, looking at him thoughtfully.

“Eli, why do I feel like you’re going to make me regret saying that?”

“No reason”

Three minutes later, he was standing in a pair of pyjama pants that were identical to her onesie.

“Don’t say a word.” He said through his gritted teeth.

She was in the middle of forming a snarky comment, when loud music blasted from the room next door.

“Shreya!” Beckett groaned and walked to the wall, knocking on it furiously “We’re trying to study here”

“Can’t hear you over the sound of my one person party, you loner nerd” Shreya’s voice echoed over the song.

Eli exploded laughing and he turned back to face her.

“What’s funny?”

“Dance with me, Beckett” She smiled, offering him her hand.

Eli wasn’t the dancer, and he knew it. He pursed his lips, studying her facial expression to detect any ulterior motive behind her request. And when he found none, that she genuinely just wanted to dance, he gladly took her hand, joining her in the centre of the room.

“Don’t step on my toes” he warned her as he moved them both, guiding her around in swift movements.

“I make no promises” She twirled, her hair completely breaking loose from the bun, flying around her with each turn, then landing back to her shoulders. She looked up to him, biting her lips to cover a giggle as he missed a step while looking at her.

The song came to an end too quickly; the upbeat vibes were replaced by a softer serenade. They slowed their pace, and suddenly aware of how close they were, they stopped dead on their tracks. Eli looked down, a million thoughts rushing through her mind and each time she’d try to grasp them they’d fly away, leaving her heart in utter confuse.

Beckett Harrington was a handsome man indeed. Even if it took her a lot of time to realise it. He wasn’t just a pair of beautiful eyes, a strong jawline and the body of a Greek god in tight jeans. He wasn’t just the sum of perfectly crafted parts. He was more than that. He was the smartest man she’d ever met, with the heart of a lion and the good manners of a prince. And for the flicker of a second, she saw the heaven in his eyes.

He brushed his knuckles under her chin, and then lifted her head up to meet his gaze. She blinked, then looked up, her mouth gapping. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers running through the strands of his soft hair.

“Hello” She smiled shyly.

“Hi there” He breathed out. He clutched her hips gently, his eyes widening at how perfectly she fit between his hands.

He swayed her slowly from side to side, the soft light of her pink lamps reflecting on her eyes, turning the whole room into some sort of pink/purple-ish wonderland. She smelled like wild lavender and white honey, and he inhaled deeply, letting the scent flood his senses, making it even harder to focus.

It was like a snow globe. He wished he could be stuck in a glowing snow globe, dancing with her to the endless song his heart was beating to.

But why was he thinking this way? What has gotten into him? She’s just Eli... The same Eli he shares all his secrets with. The same Eli he’d give the last slice of his blueberry pie. The same Eli he knows like the back of his hand. The one who makes him feel ever so... Alive?

She was always something else, something extraordinary. With the way her face lights up when she walks by an ice-cream shop. How her eyebrows crease when she’s so focused. When she tears up after laughing too hard. The way she blushes when he pokes her little nose.

She lived with her head over the clouds, just like the golden sun. Always so warm, so dreamy. Nothing was so far beyond her reach. She believed that everything was possible. What was impossible is the way his heart raced with her in his embrace. It’s like a wave of sunlight was rushing through his veins. This newfound idea thrilled him in the most delicious way. His shoulders relaxed, his mouth curved into a euphoric smile. He gazed at her eyes, at the dilated pupils which starred right into his soul through her batting eyelashes. And he knew. He knew that these were the eyes he wanted to be lost in forever.

He blushed, muttering the first question that popped in his hazy mind.

“Did you put something in my drink?”

“No I didn’t”

“Then why am I feeling so... light headed?”

“I may have bewitched you” She whispered, her cheeks burning to match the shade of his.

Too shy, he stutters after planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“That, you did”

The next morning, Atlas walked into Eli’s room to wake her up for their usual training. And she was greeted by the sight of her sister and Beckett in a deep slumber. They were curled up together on the blanket fort they made last night with a lot of bed sheets and pillows. With her head resting on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her smaller body, they were holding into each other like nothing else mattered. It was only them, snuggled up in their little world, surrounded by the open books of last night, the papers they scrabbled together, and Eli’s million sharpies.

Atlas groaned, slamming the door shut.

“Fucking teenagers”

#Beckett Harrington #beckett x mc #playchoices #choices stories you play #Choices

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oncelers-panties · 4 years

Text

Boulevard Boy

Ao3 Link

There he was again. Same place, at the usual time, and just as infuriatingly captivating as always.

Mr. Greed shuffled in his seat, tilting his head a little to get a better view of him, trying to do so in a way that wasn´t too obvious- then, right away, wondered what he was trying to be so inconspicuous for. Nothing strange about his behavior, not one bit. Still, what if the other were to notice his stares? It would be awkward, wouldn´t it?

He put a stop to this train of thoughts, as to not have the same internal conversation he´s already had several times the last few days. This has been going for far too long, and God, it was getting embarrassing. All this inner turmoil, because of what?

Because of some guy with a shabby old guitar.

He had just appeared one day; infiltrating Mr. Greed´s territory and stealing his inner peace. Before that, the idyllic boulevard with its cozy benches and rows of trees that provided shade during sunny days was his place of refuge. Here, he found the peace of mind he was often denied as businessman climbing up the career ladder, which is why he visited it whenever he could during his breaks. He didn´t enjoy spending that precious time among his colleagues and employees, since they were always up for idle chatter which took away from his much-needed relaxation. And so, he grew into the habit of having his lunch beneath the beeches, watching as people went about their daily lives and doves fought over crumbs of bread on the ground.

Then, about two months or so ago, there was a change in scenery. A young man appeared, playing and singing songs to passerby for pocket change. Street performers could often be seen at that place, but this one caught the businessman’s attention. Why, he couldn´t tell, as nothing about the man seemed particularly striking at first. Cheap and plain clothes that were often of poor taste- heavens, who in their right mind still wore a trilby in this day and age? A face pretty but not too memorable, a body too bony for Greed´s taste. A voice that was pleasant to listen to, but probably wouldn´t go down in music history. And yet, Mr. Greed could not take his eyes off of him whenever he graced the boulevard with his presence, froze in anticipation every time the man drew breath in-between songs, got hypnotized by the way his slender fingers danced over the strings of his instrument. Eventually memorized the days and times of the week the man came out to sing, leaving his workplace in a hurry as to not miss him.

It all felt terribly odd to him. Greed wasn´t one for love at first sight; in fact, he wasn´t one for love at all. Both because of his impossibly high-standards no one seemed to be able to fulfill, and because he was of the opinion that his job was too time-consuming for such pleasures. Partners always turned out to be more trouble than they were worth, and he had often been told that he was insensitive and unromantic, so at one point, he had stopped bothering. Where, then, did these fantasies come from, of fleeting touches and saccharine whisperings that followed him from the early morning hours all the way into the night, when he lay awake in his lonely bed? He would try to get his mind off of them, yet like particularly annoying bugs, they´d always come back to swarm him.

Disgruntled, Mr. Greed convinced himself that it was just a phase he was going through, a sudden need for intimacy born from lower instincts that would pass as quickly as a common cold. That belief was shattered the very next day, when the performer appeared again, carrying a violin this time, and gave the best damn performance of Lili Marleen he´s ever heard. Awestruck, he froze in place, eyes glued to the man´s lips as his jaded expression grew uncharacteristically soft and his heart fluttered along to each note emitted by the instrument. There suddenly was that overwhelming desire to get closer, just marveling from afar not being enough anymore. He felt the need to map every inch of the other´s face, get near enough to bathe in the warmth of his blush and have his lashes brush against his cheek.

When that feeling became too much, Greed abruptly got up, body acting by itself. However, he completely disregarded the cup of coffee he had placed onto his lap before, which fell down and almost splattered its contents all over a woman that was passing by at that moment. She managed to jump aside just in time to not get drenched in the hot drink, and gave the businessman a deadly glare, hissing a furious watch it before taking off, ignoring all of Greed´s attempted apologies. He looked down to find that the legs of his slacks and tips of his shoes were covered in coffee, which made him snap out of his trance and swear profusely as he tried to clean if off with some tissues, only smearing it further over the expensive material as a result. He had to go home to change that day, coming back late for work.

Even that experience did not keep him from watching the street performer closely, always keeping a safe distance at first, eventually allowing himself to go near to tip the man a few dollar bills for his performance. In that short moment, he tried to capture him as best as he could, noticing the tiny freckles that sprawled over his cheeks like stars, eyes that reminded him of the forget me-nots-that used to bloom by his childhood home, lips that curved into a small, grateful smile…

The businessman felt himself heat up, unsure whether it was from the warm summer air or the flush that appeared on his face. He left in a hurry, feeling like a fool, yet overtaken by a deep delight that lasted throughout the entire day and the morning after.

From then on, Mr. Greed would throw money into the man´s open guitar case whenever he performed, just so he could walk by him again and steal another glance at that sweet face he had ironically thought of as forgettable not too long ago. Promising himself that it would be the last time, yet always coming back for more. After all, why shouldn´t he? He did enjoy the music, and the singer looked like he could use the cash. Greed thought about how he´d use it to buy himself a particularly fine meal at a nice restaurant, or a new set of clothes, maybe it would help him pay for rent, keep a roof over his head for another month… perhaps, when making those purchases, he´d even think of the generous businessman who provided him with that money.

Rather than ponder about it, Greed could, of course, just drop the charade and talk to the handsome singer. But what was he even supposed to say? “Good day, stranger. Recently, I´ve been having extensive fantasies about running away with you to rural France and moving into a small cottage, where I will proceed to worship and make love to you until late into the night, then wake up every morning to the sight of you sitting wistfully by the windowsill in nothing but an oversized button-up. Oh, and I also think your singing is neat.”

No, even if he were to come up with something tamer, he´d just make himself look ridiculous. The stranger would look him in the eye, probably with an awkward smile, and politely tell him to get lost. He´d say something like…

“Excuse me?”

Mr. Greed almost jumped a little, turning his head. Without him noticing, someone had taken a seat next to him, and he was suddenly looking into a pair of light-blue eyes. Dumbfounded, he stared at the stranger in silence- his mind taking a while to process the fact that it was none other than the singer he had come to adore so much. And while he was busy sorting his thoughts to get a grip on the situation, the other just smiled, lifting his hand and giving a small wave.

“Hi there.”

Once he managed to overcome the initial shock, Greed immediately sat up straight, hands running over the creases in his jacket to flatten them. After spending a moment sitting with his mouth open like a fish out of water, he finally managed to gain some control over his voice, and the first thing he could blurt out, in the same tone he used with his customers and sponsors:

“Good day. How may I help you?”

At that, the stranger laughed. It was soft and warm, just like his entire presence, and it sounded shockingly close to how Mr. Greed had imagined it would in his many daydreams, making him want to die of embarrassment a little less and his heart pound a little more.

“No need to be so formal,” the musician said. “I´ve just noticed that you listen to my playing a lot. And, well-“

He lowered his gaze a little, scratching the back of his neck.

“I´m grateful that you like it so much, really. But… all that money, I can´t accept it, I´m sorry.”

Greed blinked a few times, not knowing what to say.

“I mean, I´ve earned 250 dollars this month. From you alone.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“And I´d like to give it back to you, because I couldn´t look at it without feeling guilty. Sure, I want to earn a little with playing music, but this is more than I can keep with a clear conscience. So, please…”

The man reached for his pocket, retrieving a bunch of dollar bills that were being held together by a rubber band, and handed them to Mr. Greed.

“I´ll be too busy to perform here anymore, for a long time, at least. Thank you for being such a great listener. As weird as that sounds, it actually meant a lot to me.”

The way he said it, with a smile humble yet genuine, made the businessman feel like he would melt on spot. Breaking out of his stupor, he gently yet firmly pushed the other´s hand back, shaking his head.

“Keep it. If gave it to you, it means that I thought your performing to be worth the money,” he retorted, feeling himself getting a little light-headed from the softness of the other´s skin. A little quieter, he added: “See it also as me paying off my guilt for having terribly embarrassing romantic thoughts about you for an uncomfortably long time despite not even knowing your name.”

Greed watched the stranger´s expression change rapidly after that blunt confession; from shock to thoughtfulness to realization, until finally, the corners of his rosy lips curled upwards into a smile once more, and his eyes narrowed in a playful manner, a curious glint behind them.

“I see. But if that´s the case… perhaps my most generous benefactor would like to get to know me a little better? If he has the time, that is.”

The businessman´s response sounded like a mix between actual words and useless stuttering, and when the other, chuckling, asked him for something to write with, he patted his upper body all over, like a man being attacked by ants. Finally, Greed found a pen in the inner pocket of his jacket and handed it to the musician. He wordlessly allowed the other to lean over forward and lift the sleeve of his jacket, watched as the singer wrote down his phone number on the underside of his arm, the tip of the pen tickling his skin a little. Inhaled a bit of the faintly sweet scent emanating from the man´s moppy black hair, and took notice of the daintiness of his slightly calloused fingers.

“I gotta go now,” the singer said, interrupting Greed´s observation, “Call me tomorrow evening, I´ll be free. Try not to lose that arm with my number on in until then. Name´s Once-ler, by the way, pleased to meet you.”

He handed the pen back to its owner, got up quickly to readjust the guitar case on his back- and off he went. Mr. Greed noticed the bundle of money that was still lying on the bench, rather than in the singer´s wallet like it was supposed to. He called after him; but Once-ler just turned his head, smirking cheekily.

“Hold on to those bills! Keep them for later, my tastes in drinks and coffee shops are pretty expensive.”

Laughing, the musician disappeared behind a corner. And Mr. Greed himself couldn´t help but smile as he leaned back, enjoying the view of the clear summer sky.

#oncest #oncelerxgreedler #real world au #something wholesome for once #sfw #fanfiction #onceler #once-ler

14 notes · View notes