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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

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harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like for suggesting the backstory thing!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

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Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer.

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already.

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message!

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you.

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you.

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact.

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo.

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh.

“Okay, what now?”

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge.

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing.

It never comes.

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards.

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack.

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement.

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?”

He stares at you.

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that.

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long.

Fuck, he really had only one option.

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him.

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference.

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition.

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation.

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

“I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?”

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated.

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it.

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it.

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.”

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips.

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by.

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?”

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion.

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects.

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.”

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead.

Fucking finally.

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place.

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight.

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam.

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming.

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him.

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly.

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you.

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious.

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment.

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying.

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles.

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.”

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles.

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm.

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.”

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified.

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground.

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below.

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient.

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes.

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.”

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand.

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally.

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly.

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.”

“See you there.” Sam nods.

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure.

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business.

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that?

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all.

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry.

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available.

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly.

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?”

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued.

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour.

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.”

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb.

Tony has an idea.

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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outofsstyles · 4 years ago

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a/n: This is by far THE MOST requested fic I’ve ever had and (a year later) it’s finally here!! First of all, sorry that it took me so long but when I first wrote Wildest Dreams I never intended on it having a follow up, but the amount of love I got from it was so overwhelming that I decided to put this together for you all :) I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit nervous about it, considering the amount of requests I’ve had the past year, I know there’s gonna be a lot of expectations and I wanted to do something a bit different so it’s not too predictable lol. So yeah, as always, feedback is very much welcomed!! If you enjoy please reblog it to support my writing, it would mean the world to me <3

word count: 13.7k

warnings: none!

concept: It’s Evan’s birthday and he decides to do something a bit different.

Wildest Dreams: read part 1 here :)

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

In the last two steps, you have to use your leg to support the box as it starts to slowly slip down your fingers. This serves as a reminder to start exercising again now that the midterm is over — meaning that you should finally give in to Nia’s pleas to join her in the free week of Pilates classes she got when signing in at the gym, “Exercising is one of the best ways to relieve stress!” She would argue, to which you’d simply reply with something along the lines of: “So does binging another trashy reality tv show!”

Thankfully, no one seems to notice your struggle, sparing you the embarrassment of listening to their teases due to your difficulty in carrying one of the smallest boxes of the bunch. Nate barely glances at you once you finally reach the car to hand him the box, only shooting the longest smile you’ve ever seen coming from him—which somehow still manages to be probably the quickest when compared to any other regular person. His girlfriend, who stands with hands on her hips, entirely held his attention. Nia’s purple strands of hair poke out of her half-bun in every direction and her bottom lip has found its permanent spot between her teeth as her eyes fixate on the vehicle in front of her, barely blinking.

“Everything alright, Ni?” You prompt, trying to even your breathing. “Forgot something? There’s still time to check.”

“It’s not that.” She mumbles, shaking her head to break out of her thoughts. “My keyboard doesn’t fit.” Nia nods at the instrument lying on top of the car’s ceiling.

“Oh,” You say, frowning your lips as you take in her stressed figure. Clearing your throat, you attempt to blurt out a joke, “Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t move it and stay right here in our little flat with creaky doors.”

She breathes out a sharp laugh, finally looking at you as she drops her arms. “Don’t start.” She warns, “You promised; no crying today.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at holding back the tears.” You give her a soft smile, pulling her smaller frame into a hug. The sudden reality of your best friend and roommate leaving you hitting you at once. “Gonna miss you, Ni.”

You feel her sigh into your shoulder, arms circling around your middle. “I’ll be ten minutes away.”

“Not the same.”

“I know.”

The two of you sway in silence for a moment, and you watch from over her shoulder as Nate attempts to awkwardly pick up the keyboard, almost dropping it on the sidewalk in the process. He grunts, the instrument tilting in his arms, and you giggle as you hear Nia sigh once more. Tightening your arms around her, you release each other as she turns to check on her boyfriend who holds the instrument as you would a newborn — except this one is half his size and hard as a wood plank.

He glances between the both of you, helpless. “Uh, where does this go?”

“You can put it with the other big boxes upstairs, babe. We’ll take them Sunday.” Nia says, moving to close the trunk. She looks back at him, calling back in a sing-like voice before he disappears inside, “Thank you!”

You lean back against the car, a playful pout plumping your bottom lip. “Am I only seeing you again on Sunday, then?”

“Nope, I’ll pick you up for Evan’s birthday — did you forget about it already?”

You have. “Of course not. It’s on — tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow?” Nia gasps, eyes widening. “Holy shit, tomorrow’s Friday.”

You nod slowly, just as shocked as she is about how quickly the past couple of weeks have flown by. Between piles of book reports and stress-tear-stained essays during midterms week, you also had to find some time to help Nia with packing boxes while searching for a new roommate for yourself. If you managed a five-hour sleep on these past days, that would have been a well-rested night. So you can’t really blame yourself for forgetting about Evan’s birthday when Nia herself had it slipping through her mind.

“This is an emergency,” Nia says, eyes focusing on a point beyond you and, you feel like, if you listen close enough, you can hear the engines inside her head working. “I’ll have come here earlier so you can help me with my outfit.”

You chuckle. “What even is the theme this year?”

“He didn’t tell me,” Nia says in a huff. “But, on the bright side, I don’t think this year he’ll do anything too crazy — he was too busy these last couple months with that short film I told you about, remember?”

“Evan doing something low key? That’s a first.” You raise your eyebrows, skeptical.

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m just guessing.” Nia shrugs, picking at her nails. “I’m only saying because he mentioned once he was only inviting, like, twenty people.”

Now, this is a surprise. “I’m glad I made the cut, then.”

It’s not a secret to anyone who’s ever had any kind of interaction with Evan that he’s fond of the dramatics of life — his bright-colored outfits with mismatching patterns being the first example that comes to mind — and that reflects as well in his events. Especially when it comes to his birthday.

To be fair, you’ve only actually been to two birthday parties of his so far — considering the invitation usually finds you because he’s close to Nia and sees you as some sort of extension of her. Nevertheless, they were both impactful enough that left a clear impression of how much he enjoys celebrating himself. Last year in particular you remember quite well. It was what he called “Evaney” themed; being a mix of himself and his favorite artist: Britney Spears. And, while you and Nia showed up as one of at least fifteen different variations of the Baby One More Time schoolgirl outfit, Evan pulled a perfect match of the Oops! I Did It Again red bodysuit that he got one of his fashion student friends to tailor for him, as well as freshly dyed beach blonde hair to suit it. He even went as far as photoshopping pictures of himself on Britney’s body and had them printed on posters hung on every single room of the house. There were even custom-made cups and napkins with them — two of them that Nia stole at the end of the party still sit somewhere in your kitchen to this day.

Another particular thing you remember quite clearly was that there were enough people crowded in his living room to fill up your entire apartment, as you recall. And that’s about how a typical event at his home is like — even on his friendsmas dinner there were much more than just twenty people eating turkey out of disposable hot pink plates. So, Nia’s information leaves you wondering what he could have in mind for tomorrow with such a limited list of people.

Before you can voice your wonders to her, though, Nate pushes through the entrance door again. You can tell he, much like you minutes ago, is trying to cover his heavy breathing. “I left it on top of those big boxes with a bunch of books in ‘em.”

“Brilliant! Thank you, baby.” Nia grins, wrapping an arm around his middle. “By the way, we just remembered Evan’s birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow already?” Nate asks, and you hold back a giggle at the way his face scrunches in discontent. He hates going to Evan’s to a point that’s nearly comical. “Fuck’s sake.”

“And I think I’ll come here early so we can get ready together.” Nia nods towards you.

Nate grunts. “Do I have to go this time?”

“Of course, darling.” She rises to her tiptoes to pinch his cheek, to which he brushes it off.

Nate looks at you, and you only send him a tight smile in solidarity. The two of you share similar experiences with Evan, considering the only reason either of you even gets invited is that because you’re close to Nia, and she’s close to Evan. Although you like Evan, even if you’re not that close with him, you can still put on your social mask for a couple of hours and have fun at his parties. Nate, on the other hand, is likely the least sociable person you’ve ever met, and it’s obvious how uncomfortable he gets every time.

Nia seems to sense how tense he gets as well, because she steps in front of her boyfriend, finding his eyes with her doe-like ones. “I mean, if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

He sighs, “Of course I’ll go with you.” He looks up at you. “Maybe this time we can actually count how many faces of his we can see from the couch.”

This time you don’t hold back a giggle. “I have a feeling we’ll have an easier time this year.”

“Hope so.” Nate taps on Nia’s back. "Let's go, then? Is everything you need in the trunk?”

“Yup.” She answers, circling the car and opening the door to the passenger’s side. Before entering, she gives you one last look. “Do you want me to bring anything for you tomorrow?”

“I’m good.”

“‘kay!” She enters, closing the door behind her in a click and leaning over Nate to wave at you from his window. “See you tomorrow! Don’t cry too hard tonight!”

“I won’t!” You wave back.

Watching as the car pulls back, before driving away and disappearing around the corner, there’s a light breeze that raises goosebumps on the exposed skin of your arms. You cross them under your chest, leaning back into the wall of your building, not quite ready to go back to your empty home yet. The seconds blend into minutes and you stand there The promise you made to Nia not even a minute ago already pooling in your eye, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep it anyway, you let it tickle its way down your cheek.

A rougher gust of wind hits you and, this time, you turn to go inside.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The days are still not long enough so that the sun can shine proudly at seven in the afternoon, but as spring just about rounds the corner there’s still a golden glow as the rays provide one last warmth before disappearing on the horizon. And that’s how the sky greets you once you step out of your building to make your way towards Evan’s house for his birthday.

As planned, Nia arrived at yours with plenty of time so the two of you could help each other get ready, a bag filled with clothes she’s just taken to Nate’s yesterday under her arm for you to help her choose. “I’m thinking something monochromatic tonight.” She said as she walked in, making you jump in your spot on the couch as you didn’t hear her using the spare key. “I’m just not sure what color.”

She ended up choosing red. There was an old box of red hair dye you found lost inside the bathroom cabinet after Nia left — along with two different brands of shaving cream, although those belonging to Nate — and, after presenting it to her, she decided to go all for it, taking it as a sign. Nate showed up just about an hour after his girlfriend, still in his work attire and barely batting an eye at Nia’s new hair color as she blew dried it. The only comment leaving his mouth being, “You look like a tomato,” before kissing her forehead and excusing himself for a nap while the two of you finished getting ready.

What neither of you realized was that Nia’s last-minute decision took more time than you predicted, giving you barely enough time to get dressed. To her, that wasn’t exactly an inconvenience considering she had an outfit ready to match any color she wanted — in this case, was a red-dyed denim two-piece. and a matching jacket that ended up discarded after she noticed it covered her newest shoulder tattoo (though you tried to argue she could just have Nate carry it so she could wear it considering she eventually would get cold at some point). To you, however, was more of a stressful task, seeing you hadn’t taken in mind to think of an outfit beforehand. So you ended up just going with the safest option that didn’t give you a lot of room to overthink, choosing to finish your makeup on the way so Evan wouldn’t have any of your heads on a plate for being late.

You’ve found that applying mascara on a moving vehicle is not the easiest task, as Nia holds your elbow to help you keep steady while talking nonstop with the driver about a topic you stopped paying any mind to about ten minutes ago.

“I’m loving our black and red moment, by the way.” She turns to you, loosening her hold as you finish the last coat. “You look like one of those hot businesswomen with your teenage daughter who likes to dress like an animated character.”

You laugh at her comparison, only now noticing the discrepancy between both your outfits. Without even realizing it, you also ended up going for the monochromatic look. Except unlike Nia’s, yours completely lacks any color. “That’s actually the best comparison you could make.”

“I know — You can take a left right here — Here, I have lip gloss.” Nia fetches a small tube from her jacket (that she ended up taking, after all), presenting it to you.

“Do you not have lipstick?”

“Are you not planning on smudging it later?” Nia wiggles her eyebrows, teasing. The hint behind her words makes you roll your eyes, snatching the lip gloss from her hand without bothering to give her an answer. There was about a month or so, just before winter rolled around, that Nia felt as if she had a mission to get you with someone. You suspect, knowing too well how her mind works, that she must’ve felt some sort of guilt for what happened during her film project last year. It was clear that her attempts came from a place of good heart, but this doesn’t mean that it made them any less annoying. However, after her plans to move in with Nate became more concrete, her cupid persona seemed to have disappeared, or so you’d thought. But now that there’s nothing else filling her mind anymore, it looks like she’s back at it, and you can’t help but snort. “What? I’m just saying-”

“You say a lot of things, most of them are incorrect.” You say, “I’m not smudging anything tonight. Not on a party with twenty people, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t say that before — right there! The big house on the corner!” Nia leans over the console, signaling to the driver where to park. It’s so sudden that you notice how he jumps just slightly from his seat, chuckling to yourself at how Nate snaps his eyes at her.

The front of Evan’s Victorian home is unusually quiet once you step out onto the sidewalk. So much so that, if it weren’t for the lined cars parked along the street and filling his driveway, you would’ve thought you’d typed in the wrong address.

The discrepancy is clear to you when compared to other gatherings Evan hosts in his house, but especially for his birthday. Last year, you could hear Toxic blasting from his place from the moment you turned on his street, and a small crowd gathered on his front yard — most of which you recall being comprised of people plastered out of their minds, particularly one semi-naked man who was using one lamppost as a strip pole while swinging a stuffed snake

That’s more or less the standard one could expect when invited to a party at Evan’s. So, to find the street as silent as any regular day is, to an understanding, odd.

“Are you sure it’s the right date?” You ask as the metal creak of the front gate mends with gushes of wind whistling through the air.

“Yup,” Nia says simply, walking in front of you. “You can hear the music inside, shush.”

You come quiet, listening in, and, surely, you can hear the faint keys of a piano coming from the other side of the stone walls, but it only brings up more questions to your head than answers. Evan seems like the last person on Earth who would listen to classical music. Deciding not to voice your question this time, you follow short behind Nia, kicking some loose stones on the gravel path leading to the front door.

There’s no need for more than a single knock for it to open almost immediately, revealing a lace-clad Evan downing the last bits of his wine. Without the barrier you can hear the music more clearly, the keys of the piano meshing in a peculiar way, not like anything you’ve ever heard in a classical song— at least not ten years ago when you tried to learn piano for a year before giving up.

“Look at my favorite people!” Evan says with his purple-stained lips, pulling Nia for a hug with the arm that’s not holding the door open while pointing at a spot behind her. “Did you greet Jonathan when you passed him? It’s his birthday as well.”

He points to a spot where a gnome statue sits in the dry grass, face painted in clown makeup. Nate’s voice comes from behind you, “Christ.”

“Nate!” Evan chirps, going straight for the man standing with a sharp smile and throwing his arms around him. “You know you’re my favorite grumpy, right?”

Nate only taps on the shorter man’s back, quickly moving to Nia’s side as soon as he’s free from the embrace. With that, Evan turns to you, hands finding your elbows as he takes you in, “And what have you been up to, bug? It's been ages.”

“You know… Books and… Stuff.” You chuckle, brushing it off. “Happy birthday, E.”

“Thank you!” He claps his hands together. “Now, c’mon, let’s get all of you started.”

Following him inside, you’re met with a glittery box standing right next to the entrance; rolls of tape seal it shut, and a hand-sized hole has been cut on top of the lid. You try to peek at what could be inside, but strings of colorful crepe paper are stuck to the hole, making it harder to know its contents.

Evan picks up the box, holding it to his side. “So, I need each of you to grab a piece of paper inside the box. There will be a number in it but for now just hold on, drink, and chat while waiting for further instructions.” His voice lowers at the end to give his words more of a mystery behind them.

Nate tenses in front of you and you have to keep yourself from chuckling at his desperate gaze moving from the box to his girlfriend as he moves uncomfortably on his feet. Nia, however, only gives him a pat on his back, barely looking at her boyfriend as she does a little dance in excitement. “Oh, this feels fun.” She says, quickly reaching her hand inside the box and retrieving a piece of paper. “Mysterious, but fun. What do you have in mind, sir?”

“Nothing too crazy this year, darling, you can relax — We’re all too tired.” He moves the box towards Nate, who reluctantly reaches inside. “Just something to mesh people together that won’t give me too much of a headache to clean tomorrow.”

“Smart.” You say, peeking at the box as it’s presented to you before reaching for a paper inside, quickly reading the number eight written on it before folding the piece between your fingers.

“Nice! As always, drinks in the kitchen. We’re starting in ten minutes!” Evan claps, hushing the three of you further inside.

Surprisingly, this time around there are no posters of his face in sight as you follow Nia and Nate to the kitchen. There’s a mild mash of voices coming from the living room — where the sound of the piano is the loudest, and you wonder if he got an actual piano or if it’s just a Bluetooth speaker —, but it’s not nearly as loud as you’re used to from past times. The lighting has been lowered to a buttery yellow; you realize once you enter the kitchen that feels too bright to your eyes in contrast to the hallway.

“Is there any alcohol?” You wonder out loud, and Nia glances at you with her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “What? I’m just asking ‘cause everyone is unusually quiet.”

“There’s wine and — what are these guys right here?” She picks up one out of four plastic jars sitting on the kitchen island, reading the label stuck to it out loud, “Strawberry Mary — ooh, this looks fun.”

You reach for the other three to check their contents, but all have names similar to the one Nia now fills her cup with — fruity, yet mysterious: Lana Banana, Jenny Berry Mix, and Pineapple Suzan. “Did he come up with these?” You chuckle, reaching for the berry mix.

“It was probably Adam,” Nia says, and you frown. “That bartender guy? The one with the pet snakes.”

“Oh, yeah. I know him.”

The room comes quiet as you serve yourself, and only after you glance up you realize a tension lingering in the air. Nate stands awkwardly in a corner, eyes fixed on Nia as he moves his head around subtly. Glancing between the two of them, you notice how their expressions change as they keep their eyes locked, not a single word being uttered out loud. To you, it almost feels as if they are reading each other’s minds, and the heat of their silent argument becoming clear once Nate huffs, shaking his head.

Nia clears her throat, seemingly uncomfortable, shooting you a knowing look. It’s only when she gives you a toothless smile that you realize the silent question behind it. “Uhm, I’m going to check if there are any sweets outside.”

Beelining towards the doorway, you quickly make your way out of the room. The hallway is empty and, from where you stand awkwardly in the middle of it, you can tell Evan’s left his spot by the front door, meaning he’s likely gone to the living room where the rest of the guests are. You can hear them chatting, although like you previously pointed, the voices are much more controlled than what you’re used to, and that makes you oddly flustered by the thought of walking in alone.

Considering the limited amount of invitations this year, the chances of you knowing anyone are slim and, to add to your sudden nervousness, most of the people from Evan’s closest circle of friends are — like himself — inexplicably intimidating. This is mostly because it feels like this unspoken competition that everyone has settled with each other, to subtly brag about your success whilst simultaneously pretending to be impressed about the other’s accomplishments. And for you specifically, considering you’re not part of this artist clique that they lock themselves into, it feels particularly tiresome to be part of those interactions.

So, you opt to wait for Nia, pretending to admire one peculiar painting hanging on a wall opposite to where the doorway leading to the living room stands. Every so often, you catch yourself glancing over your shoulder one way or the other, either towards the kitchen to check if your friends are joining you, or to the doorway where the rest of the guests are in. At one point, the voices get louder, joining in a laugh before tangling together in a mess of noise you can’t make sense of. It’s after a minute that you hear footsteps coming from the living room, making you freeze on your spot, carefully turning your back to whoever’s about to catch you avoiding the party, and focusing on the piece you’ve been staring at for the past five minutes.

The painting you first thought was just random strokes of earth tones abstractly put together you now realize it’s a man and it doesn’t take you more than a second or two to recognize Evan’s side profile in a peach shade. Your hand claps on top of your mouth as you fight the urge to laugh. The sound comes out muffled, but it stops as you hear the footsteps falter as they turn into the hallway. Keeping you back to them, you listen as the wooden floor creaks as whoever was approaching makes their way back. You peek to catch sight of who it might be, but all you make out is the shadow of mustard corduroys turning the corner.

As if on cue, Nia and Nate finally appear from the kitchen, thankfully neither appearing to be sour after the talk in the kitchen.

“Finally.” You say, still feeling giggly from your finding. “Nate, you have to check this-”

“Okay! Let’s start, then. Do we have everyone in the living room?” Evan’s voice interrupts you as he calls out. Nia guides you along with her to the living room. And, as soon as the three of you enter, Evan nods at you, before continuing, “Now that all the bunnies are trapped, we shall begin!” He laughs, clapping his hands together before motioning vaguely to everyone. “Before I explain what I have planned, I want to pair you all. So, I’ll call out the numbers that each of you picked when you arrived, so everyone can find their pair.”

You frown, confuse yet curious about what Evan’s up to as he calls out the numbers. Now that you stop to glance around the room, you note how there are more people than you’d expected. It’s still not nearly as many as previous parties of his, but it still feels like the room is nicely filled, maybe just a dozen people above twenty. And amongst them, there’s quite a few you recognize as they pair up together — like Georgia, the first one to be called, whom you spent a good half of the New Year’s party with, or Taylor, who gets paired with Nia (you remember him particularly from a film festival that Nia had been part of — he produced and directed a short film comparing the second wave of feminism to the wildlife in the Amazon Rainforest, and Nia couldn’t stop complaining about how bad it was for the entire week after).

It’s when Evan jokes with someone on the other side of the room, however, that you see him.

He’s tucked in a corner, right next to the bookshelves, arms crossed under his chest in a way that makes his tattoos pop out of his biceps, something you notice even standing on the opposite end of the room. His smile is subtle as he watches the scene in front of him, but it’s still enough for a dimple to poke at one side of his face -- it’s barely there, but you’ve seen it up close enough times that you notice those details. His hand holds a drink, but you pay no mind to it because what calls your attention is the mustard corduroy hugging his hips, the same one you watched run from you not only five minutes ago.

He laughs, and you avert your eyes, mouth still hung open. You wonder if anyone will notice if you leave.

But, as though he could read your mind, Evan calls the number written on that sits crumbled inside the pocket of your jacket. “Where are my number eights?”

You step forward and, like a magnet, your eyes glue on Harry as he raises his hand.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you have to fight against an urge to shut your eyes tightly as the regret of having left your room at all tonight becomes almost overwhelming. All you expected for the night was to forget about book reports and endless essays piled up on your computer, to relax, maybe drink a bit more than you should while watching Evan’s friends dancing with a taxidermy beaver or something of sorts (that was on his friendsmas party two years ago). Instead, here you are on what feels like the first day of class dynamic your teacher has imposed to make everyone interact with each other. And, suddenly, the long pages of (insert boring book) don’t seem that bad right now.

And to make matters worse (because the universe just likes to add a little more spice to your tragedies) of all people standing in this living room you just had to be paired with the one with whom you had a fling-like relationship six months ago.

It’s awkward before he even approaches you, the tension making you fidget in your spot anxiously, barely being able to shoot a tight smile his way.

The last time you saw Harry was through the rearview mirror of a car, standing on the sidewalk like an abandoned puppy with his tail between his legs. Though you admit you let your dramatics take away when you turned away from him to leave, the feeling behind it was genuine. You were upset. He had led you on, after all, made you think he wanted to have something more just to ignore you for months and, later, appear with a redhead under his arms and call her his girlfriend. So, yes, it wasn’t the best note to leave on.

But despite how you left the last encounter, the spark of nervousness that shoots through your stomachs right now doesn’t come exactly because of his presence, but more so for the awkward nature of this encounter. At the time it happened, you avoided any activity that had the slight possibility of seeing him again like the plague. You were hurt, and you were mad — though the second part was more directed at yourself than at him. But that was six months ago. After all, as much as you felt enchanted by him and as much as those two weeks you spent together were nice, that’s all that it was: two weeks. Yes, you were sad and, yes, maybe you shed a tear or two while watching Love, Rosie with Nia afterward, but that passed as quickly as it came.

That is, until now.

“Your hair is shorter” This Is all you blurt out when he stands in front of you again.

“It is, yeah.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. The strands that last time you saw him, curled around his jawline, now peek just under his earlobe. “Did it myself, actually.”

“Really?” You take a big gulp from your drink, gaze going anywhere but meeting his own. “Found yourself another talent.”

“Another?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean, besides acting.” You grin, holding the cup to your lips and sparing him a glance. “Suppose after your debut you’ve gotten yourself busy with casting calls”

“Of course” Harry laughs. Now that you’re closer you have a better look at his dimples as they pop out, as well as the constellation of freckles hugging his nose, and the mole right under his lips. You avert your eyes again. “I’m set to be the next Bond, in fact”

“Oh, wow.” You raise your brows, grinning at the brim of your cup. “I can see it.”

He turns to you, “Can you?” You peek at him. "Why is that?”

This is exactly what you were afraid of all those months ago after last seeing him. The entire reason you ran from any possibility of seeing him again afterward. You can still remember clearly how much of a flirt he is, even when he doesn’t mean to be. It’s not a secret that Harry’s a charming man. His words are like honey, and when he uses them just right, you know is enough to have you melting. And it doesn’t help how well you seem to click together. Even now, you still feel it by your impulse to flirt back, to look him in the eye, and get just close enough to feel the scent of his cologne. Do all that just to turn away in the last second. Tease him the same way he did you. But you don’t do any of that, of course, because you’re as petty as you are bitter. So, instead, you click your tongue. “Don’t get too comfortable, Harry, bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about that.”

He chuckles. “What girlfriend?”

This time you turn fully at him, brows shooting up not in defiance, but surprise. “Yikes.” You say before you’re able to hold back.

“Yikes.” Harry still holds a smile when he repeats it, head falling as he lets out a — nervous? — laugh.

A question pops into your head. One that lingered in your mind for a good while now, but comes back a bit louder now that you have the information that his relationship was short-lasted after all. It’s a short one, but one that requires a long answer, you suppose. What happened? You think. But you don’t dare to voice it, you don’t want to have this conversation with him. Whatever the explanation is, it’s not going to change anything. So you just avert your gaze back to Evan, who now calls for everyone’s attention again.

“I know you’re all dying to know what this is all about. So, I’m going to explain it all.” And with that introduction, Evan dives into a monologue you only pay half mind to. It’s hard for you to focus on the words rapidly leaving his mouth as you can feel Harry glancing at you every so often from the corner of your eye. You listen in to Evan describing himself as a feisty kid and mention his love for drama, and then you feel the ghost of Harry’s arm bumping against yours as he sways on his feet. You try to pay attention to the story being told of the events leading up to this birthday party, and then you have to hold yourself back from meeting Harry’s eyes once you feel them at the side of your face once again. He makes a comment under his breath that you don’t quite catch, and you’re about to question him before Evan’s voice comes in an even higher pitch. “I wanted tonight to be exactly that: chaotic. I didn’t want anything to quite make sense, and I didn’t want to think much, if I’m honest, last year of film school is taking a big chunk of my functioning neurons and m’dad’s whiskey collection is taking the rest of them.”

There’s a collective laugh that takes place and, once again, Harry’s eyes peeking at you. “Everyone can relax, it’s not one of those murder mystery parties, as I’ve heard some people guess — for fuck’s sake as if I have the time and patience to plan something like that.” He says with a sip directly from a wine bottle you just now realize he’s been holding. “It’s a scavenger hunt, you have a partner and an envelope with clues. Each pair will find something related to moi and after it’s all done, we’ll eat burgers and talk about me for the rest of the night.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Harry mumbles.

Evan claps his free hand on his wrist, hushing everyone. “So off you go, c’mon! I’ll be hungry in an hour.”

“This is gonna be…” You start. “Interesting.”

“Interesting is a great word to describe it.”

“Well, let’s try to do this as quickly as possible, then.”

The side of his lips quirks up. “On a rush?”

“This is not exactly a comfortable position to be. I think you get it.” You say, fidgeting on your feet. You wait for a second for him to say something so you can start the activity, but he doesn’t and you realize there’s a piece missing. “Do you have an envelope?”

Harry nods, reaching for his pocket where the envelope sits folded in half. He swiftly opens it, taking out a card.

“Well?” You prompt, “Read us the first clue, Bond.”

There’s a smile that Harry fights against at the nickname and you’re not sure due to the dim light, but you think there’s a hint of a rosy tone on the apple of his cheeks. “An activity that grows lives and ruins manicures.” He reads out loud, pausing for a moment before laughing to himself. “I know this one.”

“Grows lives?” You frown. “As in, a pregnancy?”

Harry shakes his head, leading the way towards the corridor. “As in, gardening.”

“That’s a very weird way to put it.” You say, following him. “Does he garden?”

He walks into the kitchen, greeting two people you don’t recognize who are searching for something — their clue, you assume — inside the cabinets. “No, but his sister does. There’s a greenhouse in the back.”

You simply hum in response, muttering a quick thank you as he opens the door for you that leads to the back garden. The greenhouse is not unfamiliar to you from the outside, there have been a good amount of summer gatherings in his back garden for you to know of its existence. But you’ve thought nothing more about it. If you’re honest, you never really paid much attention to it. If anything, you assumed he used it as storage at most, never taking Evan as someone who enjoyed gardening. Though now you know you were right, you've also learned that his sister lives with him and you wonder why he’s never mentioned it before.

The curiosity inside of you wants to question Harry about it, to ask him what else he knows you don’t. When you think about it, there’s a lot you want to ask him about. Not just regarding Evan, but also regarding him. You wonder what he’s been up in the past six months if he ended up adopting the kitten he’d told you about back when you were still filming or if he read any of the book recommendations you wrote on his notes app one particular night the two of you chatted for longer than the moon could hold itself up in the sky. The part of you that begs for you to say something on the short walk is so strong you have to physically bite your tongue to be able to hold back.

You don’t have to hold for long, however, as Harry takes it upon himself to say, “So,” He starts, clearing his throat, “How- uh- how are you doing?”

Somehow, his words click something inside of your mind. They remind you of why you shouldn’t let that curious part of you win. The sole purpose of it not falling for his charm. You shake your head, “We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He frowns, his steps faltering for a second.

“Small talk.” You answer, focused on your goal. “We’ll just solve this thing as quickly as possible so I can go back home and finish my Euphoria marathon.”

“Right.” Harry nods once, and you can’t help but notice the way his lips quirk down, the frown not leaving his face. You can’t lie and say it doesn’t make your stomach drop the slightest bit to see you’ve upset him, but you have to remind yourself how much he’s upset you, too.

It’s protecting yourself, you think. After tonight, you don’t have to see him ever again.

Inside the greenhouse, you’re greeted with a mix of scents you’re not prepared for before stepping in. The space is compact, with a single corridor narrowed with garden beds on each side. Dozens of branches and leaves tickle you as you walk in, most of them belonging to different flowers that, despite the chilly weather that still lingers outside, are already blooming. It’s a blend of colors, bright reds, and ocean blues, soft purple petals kissing pink and yellow ones.

“We should look for gloves.” Harry’s voice startles you, chuckling as you jump a bit.

“Huh?”

“Gloves.” He says. “I think whatever we’re looking for has to do with the gloves, ‘cause he mentioned manicure.”

“That makes sense.” You look around. Many gardening tools are piling under the tables that hold the garden beds; watering cans and empty pots. You look between bags of fertilizer and drawers filled with shovels. There’s so much stuff to look through that, at one point, you sit back on your calves, glancing around, lost.

You hear Harry leafing through as you’re doing, feeling his legs brushing against your back as he passes by and you stop, watching him from your spot on the floor. He’s got a concentrated look on his face, bottom lip worried between his teeth as he scans through the walls before he opens another drawer. That’s when his gaze falls, catching yours. You quickly turn away, pretending to go through another pile of empty pots and blocking the sound of a chuckle coming from his spot.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clicking of ceramics and the opening and closing of wooden drawers. That is until you hear from Harry, “A-ha!”

You look up again, seeing him move to the back where few pairs of gloves hang on the wall — so obvious yet still hidden between raincoats and summer hats. “Right under our noses.” You say, getting up.

Harry searches inside the gloves, tongue trapped between his teeth. “Bingo!” He says, pulling out two tiny bottles from inside one pair.

“What is it?”

“Liquor.” He grins, peeking at you from under his lashes before ripping a piece of paper attached to it. “It says ‘one for each, now get to clue number two.’” He holds up one bottle, offering it to you, to which you take it. “It’s chocolate flavored.”

“Of course it would be a drinking game.” You open it, feeling the artificial chocolate scent braid with the alcohol. “Christ.”

“Don’t smell it, or it’ll be worse,” Harry says, downing his with one quick tilt of his head. “‘S not that bad, actually.”

You mimic his action, letting the drink swiftly burn its way down your throat. Unlike Harry, you can’t help but scrunch your nose at the taste. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Harry only giggles in response, taking the empty bottle from you and placing it back inside the gloves, along with his own.

And then again, silence. You turn to the flowers to find some comfort.

A family of tulips glances back at you, their petals in a full red, it’s the kind of beauty you’re scared to ruin if you touch, so you just rest your hand on the wood. “They’re beautiful.” You only notice you say it out loud when Harry hums back in agreement.

“They are.” He says quietly but somehow feels loud by how close he is. “Tulips are my favorites.”

You stop, brows raising incredulously at him. “No, they’re not.”

“What?”

Cursing the universe for playing with you like this, you can’t help but laugh at the situation. “It’s just- they’re my favorites, too.” You look at him. “My nan used to plant them when I was little.”

“That’s sweet.” He says, smiling and you nod. “The red ones represent true love.” He points. “And the purple ones represent royalty.”

You blink at him. “Do you just look up tulip facts in your free time?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, basically.” He looks down at you, and you can’t help but notice how the greenery around brings out the shade of his eyes. “I worked at a flower shop for a tick.”

“Really?”

He nods. “For eight months. My favorite part was writing on the store board every morning.” His face lights up as he recalls his experience. “I used to write silly stuff like, ‘one day I’d like to meet tulips.’ The old ladies loved it.”

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Why’s that?”

Because you’re sweet, you want to answer, because when I think I won’t get charmed by you again, you hit me with tulip puns. Your lip finds its spot between your teeth, you’d be damned to give him the satisfaction of hearing you tell him that, so, instead, you shrug. “Because.” You can tell he wants to dig more by the way his lip twitch up, teasing a smile, but you just nod towards the door before turning away from him and heading out.

There’s a distinct change of temperature when you step outside, and it’s only when you do that you notice the greenhouse was heated. Thankfully, the night is not too windy as it would get a week or two ago when winter was still insisting on making itself present, but it’s still chilly so that it makes you hug your jacket closer to your body. Harry also notices the difference, as you hear him wince as he steps out from behind you — unlike you, he’s not wearing anything to protect his arms from the cold, which only makes it harder for you to not ogle the tattoos hugging his skin.

“So, what’s next?” You prompt.

Harry reaches for the card again, taking it from its spot on his pocket before reading the second clue. “‘Not feeling too creative to write this one, it’s on the third tree on oak.’”

“I mean, at least we don’t have to think too much on this one.” You say, “Oak Street is the one to the left, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs. “Can’t believe he’s making us go out on the streets.”

You start to make your way back towards the house. “Too tired for a stroll?”

“‘S cold,” Harry says, scrunching his nose. “Here, there’s a side gate.”

He guides you through a gravel path to where the black gate stands, hidden between bushes and branches. Strings of fern hug the bricked fence and the surrounding grass is high enough that it tickles your calves through your tights, making you believe this path has probably been left unused for at least a couple of months now. This information brings out an extra worry for you, as you take a better look at it, noticing how the gate is closed shut to the fence.“Is it open?” You wonder out loud.

“Shit, I don’t think it is.” Harry huffs under his breath. “But, I mean, we could easily jump it.”

You stop, turning to glance at him as the suggestion leaves his lips. He stands there, hands on his hips, examining the gate, tongue poking out as he frowns. After a second, he meets your eyes. “What? It’s not that tall.”

“I suppose.” You say, looking back at the fence that ends just below your shoulder length. It would be easy enough for you to climb it with a boost, however, “I’m wearing a dress.”

“Oh,” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just go inside-” He turns back.

“Wait,” You stop him, not sure if it’s the slight amount of alcohol in your system already making you more adventurous, you train your gaze at the gate, analyzing it again, before looking back at him. Squinting your eyes, “You have to close your eyes.”

He laughs, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not that high.” You shrug. “But I need your help.”

“Of course.” He moves next to the brick wall, kneeling before it and nodding towards you. “C’mon, step up.”

Hesitantly, you glance at his thigh stretching his trousers, a sudden wave of insecurity hitting you. “Are you sure you can lift me?”

Harry simply puts his hand out in a silent request for you to hold. “Of course.”

“No peeking.”

He shuts his eyes tightly, chin meeting his chest as he looks down. And then you take his hand, feeling his fingers lock in a firm hold as he helps you use him for support. You hesitate again before using his thigh as a step, “Wait, I’m gonna ruin your trousers.” You worry, but Harry only shakes his head, still keeping it facing the ground, the strands of his hair falling above his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. When he doesn't feel you stepping in still, he encourages you with a squeeze in your hand.

You attempt to do as quickly as possible with your dress clinging to your legs, tightening your hold to Harry’s hand to step on his thigh. Once you let it go, you can still feel it lingering behind your back as you use your arms to boost yourself up the wall, sitting on it for a moment before jumping to the other side with a huff.

“Can I open them?” You hear Harry’s voice calls from the other side, and you smile, nodding even though he can’t see it.

“Yes!”

And then his face appears as he stands up in a jump, grinning at you. “See? Easy Peasy.”

“I feel like a teen sneaking out.” You say, and you instantly give another meaning to your words as Harry boosts himself up. This time, you certainly don’t hold yourself back from staring at the way his muscles flex at the movement, the tattoos on his arms stretching, and his shirt rolling up. He makes it look so easy, so effortless, barely taking five seconds until he’s jumping in front of you.

“That was fun.” He puffs, patting his trousers lightly.

“So, how are we finding the tree?” You ask, taking a quick glance to where his hands brush on the fabric of his trousers. “Should we read the clue again?”

“I know which one he’s talking about,” Harry says, nodding to the left before beginning his stride in that direction. You follow him, trusting his words as the two of you turn the corner where Evan’s house is located.

The street in question is much calmer than the one you were just in, with no cars coming or going from the residences — that stand much closer to one another, you notice, giving the whole street more of a narrow feeling to it --, which is not exactly odd, but certainly is a contrast with the main street that Evan’s home faces, that one being more lively with people either coming home or leaving it to enjoy their Friday night. The sudden lack of background noise makes the walk to your destination a tad awkward, as none of you make an effort to strike a conversation. Instead, you resort to silently observing the surrounding area as you walk alongside Harry, noticing how the trees here bend over the sidewalk, their naked branches slowly but surely growing back the leaves they lost months ago — it makes you wonder how beautiful this must look during the peak of springtime, their full branches blending together, making a ceiling of flowers.

“Here.” Harry stops abruptly, making you almost bump into his shoulder, as you were too busy with the scenery you’ve made in your own head. “‘S this one.”

“I thought it said the third one.” You frown, looking back and noticing the way you’ve passed way more than just three.

“This one is the third.” He says, motioning to a small birdhouse stuck to its trunk with a number ‘3’ painted to the front in blue. “It’s a bit of an inside joke,” Harry chuckles to himself. “Now I get why the bastard wanted me to have this card.”

You look closer at the tree, trying to see if there’s something attached to it besides the birdhouse, but there’s nothing. Before you can question it, Harry opens the front of the tiny house, retrieving two tiny bottles from inside of it, similar to the ones you found in the greenhouse. “Oh, no.” You say, laughing. “Did he just put liquor inside a stranger’s birdhouse?”

Harry shakes his head, “This is not a stranger’s birdhouse.”

“Huh?” You frown, glancing back to the house where you stand in front of, its front completely dark, showing that no one must be at home. You point to it over your shoulder. “Do you know who lives here?”

“Yeah,” He starts, offering you one bottle. “I do.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise, glancing back and forth from the house to the man standing in front of you, an amusing grin growing on his face. “You live here?” You ask, “This is your birdhouse?”

“It is, yeah. In fact, I was the one who built it.” He gives the birdhouse a small pat.

You can’t help but let your mouth hang open for a second. “That’s-” You pause, not sure which word to use. Impressive? Amazing? Hot? “That’s nice.”

Harry smiles, and the two of you stand there for a moment, admiring his work in silence. You suck your bottom lip in, keeping yourself from inquiring further.

Being presented with how little you know about Harry only peaks at your curiosity at what had happened last year in your brief experience with him. When you were with him it felt as if you’d known him for months rather than weeks, but looking back at it now, you wonder if your infatuation fooled you into thinking the two of you were close. Maybe that’s why you were so upset at the premiere after all because all that did was prove to you how much you didn’t know him at all. No matter how many sleepless nights you spent together sharing bits of your lives, it wasn’t enough for you to get to know him.

It’s only when a car turns into the street that you break away from your thoughts, looking up at him and clearing your throat. “We should take this back to Evan’s.” You say. “I’m not sure how it would look from an outsider’s point of view to see us downing these tiny bottles in the middle of the street.”

“You’re right,” Harry says. “Should we read the last clue while we’re at it?”

“Sure, yeah.”

He reaches for the card inside his pocket, presenting it to you. “You do the honors this time.”

You take the card, brushing your thumb over the words before stopping for a second to read them out loud, “You’ll find your prize behind the words of buried legends.” You snort. “That’s so corny.”

“Words of buried legends,” Harry repeats, letting out a hum. “Bet he was feeling quite poetic when he wrote this one.”

“Maybe because it has to do with poems.” You peek at him, a slight raise to your eyebrow. “‘Words of buried legends’? like dead poets and stuff?” Upon reading it again to make sure, you mumble, “He really made this card especially for you, huh?”

“Makes sense.” Harry agrees before nudging you playfully with his arm. “Look at you with your literary mind!”

“Could’ve used some better wording but I’ll let it pass.” You giggle, shrugging as you hand him back the card. As you do so, you notice there’s something written on the other side. “What’s in the back?”

Harry’s brows meet. “Huh?”

“In the back of the card, something’s written on it.” You nod towards his hand as he’s about to pocket the card again.

Harry turns it around, reading it with a chuckle. “Ice breakers.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Your mouth drops open in amusement. “Well? Go on, then. Break the ice.”

Harry makes a show of clearing his throat before reading the question as an announcement, “What celebrity do you think you could pull on your best day?”

“Is this the actual question?” You squint your eyes at him and he turns the card to allow you to read it as well. Surely, the same question reads right on top of it and, as you take a glance at the ones below it, they’re not that much better. You shake your head, “God, I have no idea.”

“I know mine.”

“You didn’t give a single thought on that one.” You say. “This should be good.”

“Jennifer Aniston.”

“Jennifer Aniston?” You stop on your tracks, raising your brows at him. “You know she was married to Brad Pitt, right?”

“Ouch.” Harry makes the theatrics of putting a hand on his heart, head falling dramatically to the side. “Right where it hurts.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad-looking, but he’s Brad Pitt.” You emphasize with a laugh, pushing him playfully as you keep walking. “Like he is the male beauty standard. Personified.”

The front of Evan’s feels more vivid than it was when you first walked in hours ago, the lights inside seeming lighter and the curtains having been pulled back, showing people wandering around on the inside. You walk past another pair crouched in front of the bushes that line next to the front gate that creaks as you open it.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Sure, let’s hear yours, then, sweetheart.”

“Ew, don’t ever call me that again.” Your nose scrunches and your face grows hot, but you attempt to shake it off, stopping to think of the question. “Huh, on my best day? I think… I don’t know, maybe Drake?”

“Oh, no!” Harry’s hands cover his face as he shakes his head into them. “I feel like that’s the most basic answer anyone could ever give to this question.”

You gasp. “Did you just call me basic?”

Harry holds the front door open for you and, before he’s able to give you an answer, you bump right into Nia. She instantly blurts out your name, as if she’s been expecting you to appear. “I’ve been looking for you!” She says, sparing Harry a glance over your shoulder before pulling you slightly to the side. “Do you think we could talk for a second?”

“Sure.” You hold out the word, looking at Harry before focusing on your friend again. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, nothing happened. Just—” Nia starts, locking your arms as she guides you back outside, pulling you to a corner a few steps away from the front door. “How are you? How's it going?”

“I’m fine. Why?” Your brows knit together at her interference and you wonder if it has anything to do with her conversation with Nate.

“I’m talking about-” She looks over her shoulder, clearly checking if anyone is listening in. Even after making sure that there’s no one there, she still lowers her voice. “When I saw he was your pair, I wanted to rescue you right away, but fucking Taylor pulled me with him and I didn’t get the chance.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Is it too awkward?” She keeps her inquiry, holding your hand close to her chest. “We could ask them to switch so we can do the rest together, I’m sure Evan’s too plastered to notice.”

“Nia, I-” You smile as you come to realize that she pulled you aside just to check if you’re uncomfortable, having witnessed first-hand your whines and cries over Harry last year. “It’s okay, really. It’s not that bad, surprisingly.”

“Really?” Nia blinks, taken aback. “I- What happened?”

“Nothing.” You reassure her with a squeeze on her hand. “We’re just chatting, it’s not that awkward.”

“Okay.” She nods and nods, before falling serious again. “But if anything happens you just have to scream for me and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Okay.” You say, pulling her for a brief hug. “Thanks, Ni.”

The two of you return inside just as Taylor brings up his brother’s hair sculpture collection that’s being exhibited at a local gallery — a subject you already have been the victim of hearing for about an hour during New Year’s and, by Harry’s face, he seems as helpless as you did back then. Nia doesn’t waste a second before pulling her pair away, “Let’s go, pal, those clues won’t solve themselves,” she shoots you a look over her shoulder, pushing Taylor towards the living room and you chuckle.

“He really is one of a kind, that man,” Harry says with a sigh before meeting your gaze. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just lady talk.” You brush aside. “Let’s find those poets, shall we?”

“We shall.” Harry smiles, looking around for a second before guiding you down the hallway, turning just before entering the kitchen where a staircase. This is a way that — like the greenhouse — you’ve never been to. Still, Harry navigates so casually as if it were his own home and, to some degree, you suppose it is. You follow him up the first flight of steps, stopping just before turning into the next one where a door you never really noticed before stands. Harry rests his hand on the handle, turning to you before saying, “There’s an office hidden right here.”

You watch as he opens it, motioning for you to walk in first. And, indeed, the inside of it is an office, just a bit smaller than the living room on the opposite side of the house. Two bookcases that go from the floor to the ceiling mostly covered the wall, only leaving a single space in the middle for a dark wooden cabinet. In front of it, an L-shaped desk takes up the middle of the room, most of it is filled with files and paper stacks, as well as two computers lying asleep. For a moment, you just stand by the doorway, admiring this room you’ve never known of its existence, your eyes quickly sweeping through the bookshelves completely packed with dark cover books of all sorts. “Do you think this is where it could be?”

“Probably, yeah.” Harry nods, turning on the lights. “I don’t know where else he could have any poetry hidden.”

You move towards one bookshelf, the one closest to the door, reaching to brush your finger through the spines perfectly lined. “But look at the size of these, we’ll take forever to find anything in here.”

“Those big ones are mostly law books, I think,” Harry says, opening cabinets at the other side of the room, right next to where a white couch stands. He turns to look at you, “His sister’s a lawyer, this is her office.” Harry says, “But Evan’s got a corner right here where he keeps some of his stuff— like books of sorts. It’s the only place I could think of.”

You hum, not knowing exactly what to respond to this information.

“You can go through the ones on that side, it could be there as well.” Harry nods towards a cabinet right next to the door where you came from, and you nod.

The first two cabinets are of no luck, both being mostly filled with boxes full of children’s books and old toys — some of them mixed with more stacks of paper, but those, instead of having long texts, have drawings of all kinds from what you could gather in a glance, from child-like scribbles to actual sketches. You can hear Harry going through drawers on the other side of the room and, upon closing another empty cabinet, you peek at him, watching his broad back flexing under his shirt as he moves around. Averting your eyes as swiftly as you looked, it’s still enough to bring warmth to your cheeks.

Finally, you open the cabinet at the very bottom of the shelf. On the top, there are piles of DVDs, most being different variations of Barbie movies, but, right at the bottom, you find books. You don’t stop to check their genre at first, simply moving them away until you stumble upon a small box, the top of it marked with the word ‘prize’. “Found it!” You call back, taking the box away from the pile before setting the books back in place again. “Under Rupi Kaur? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure she’s very alive.”

“Don’t tell Evan that,” Harry says as he crouches next to you, taking the box from your hands. Inside, there are, as expected, two tiny bottles like the ones you found before but, what calls both your attention, is a small bag of sweets lying in the middle. Harry takes it, “Oh, those are nice.”

He hands it to you and you open it, quickly shoving a jelly candy into your mouth before nodding. “Yeah.”

“So…” Harry starts, peeking over his shoulder, “Do you want to go back there?”

You glance at him, his eyes hovering above yours, lips twitching up just barely. “Uh… Maybe not right now.” You answer, “Unless you feel like sharing our Jellies with other people.”

Harry only laughs, shaking his head as he sits back and you do so too, right next to him. He reaches for his pocket, presenting another tiny bottle, the one you found inside his birdhouse, “We still got these.”

“Right!” You fetch your own out of the pocket of your jacket.

Harry opens his, holding it up towards you. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” You say, mimicking him.

Both of you down your drinks, the liquid tasting bitter, like medicine on your tongue, the only reminder of alcohol being the burn as it slides down your throat. You rest your head back on the cabinet behind you as the two of you fall into silence once more. A part of your mind is already beginning to swim around the space inside your head, and you decide to not take the last drink just yet, laying it next to your leg. Though you’ve only had the equivalent of two shots, you realize the long break you’ve had from drinking for the past couple of months -- which wasn’t exactly an intentional choice, but more like the result of your lack of free time -- is showing itself to have been enough to make you more of a lightweight.

And even though the night so far has been strikingly surprising in terms of how comfortable you felt being around Harry again, it doesn’t mean the questions you’ve been carrying since last year have gotten any quieter. They’ve only gotten louder. More persistent, even. The curiosity you feel to know what happened is almost suffocating now. And you’d be damned if you let a drunken mind stop you from having this conversation.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, only watching the back of his head bobbing along with the music -- still the piano -- that comes faintly from behind the closed door. Your lips part, feeling the question form right at the tip of your tongue, but not knowing how to voice the words. Will it be awkward? You think so, but what if it ruins the night? Tonight, that’s been so oddly refreshing. A night that only served to remind you how you became so infatuated with him in the first place.

But you know you won’t be able to let go of this ich inside your head unless you bring it up. And you want to, you do, but as you take too long to think of the right way to do so, Harry decides to break the silence, murmuring next to you, “That’s a good one.”

Your brows knit together, trying to make out any trace of familiarity within the song that’s playing, but you don't find any, which only leaves you even more confused. “Do you like classical?”

“Love,” Harry says simply, his eyes closed as he moves his head with the piano keys. “Especially this one. One of the greatest works from one of the greatest contemporary composers: Billie Eilish.”

Your lips fall open, “Shut up. Is she playing this?”

Harry laughs, a full one, that brings a grin to poke at your lips. “I mean, as far as I’m aware, no. It’s a version of her song — listen in.” He points to his ear, nodding with the melody as he sings along, “So you’re a tough guy, like it really rough guy.”

You shake your head incredulously, “Of course he’s playing classical versions of pop songs!”

“Did you really think Evan had a taste for Chopin or Debussy?” Harry asks both dimples poking on his cheeks.

“I think at this point I’d believe anything you tell me about him.”

Both of you laugh, the air surrounding you light and warm, before falling quiet again. This time, however, you simply stare at each other for a beat. You watch his eyes, with their almost hypnotizing jade shade, glancing between your own. He rolls his lip between his teeth, nibbling at it. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the details on his face only feel like a reminder of your doubts. Like the nostalgia you feel with a bittersweet memory.

“Should we-“ You stop, the words falling from your lips before you can think about them. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?”

You half expect Harry to frown, to play dumb, and question you the meaning behind your words. For a second, you even expect him to shake his head, to get up and leave the room. And, for some reason, you kinda want him to do so. To finally break the mask of the nice, sweet guy he’s been putting on all night and allow himself to play the role of cold prick you put him on for the past months.

But he doesn’t do it. He only gives you a short smile. “I was thinking about how to bring it up.” Harry’s gaze falls to his lap for a beat as he scratches his nose. “We should, yeah.”

You nod, more to yourself than to him. This is it. The moment to ask what you’ve been waiting for for six months now. You decide not to think much anymore, allowing the question to roll freely, “I don’t really know how to word this better but- pardon my French- what the fuck happened?”

Harry chuckles, but not an amused one. It’s more of a dry, nervous laugh. “How cliche is it if I tell you I was really fucking stupid?”

“Pretty cliche.” You say, “But also pretty true, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry for that.” He looks up, eyes meeting yours again, his own softening upon seeing you. “I really am.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile a little, “But I think I deserve an explanation.”

“You do.” He speaks quietly before clearing his throat. For a second, he doesn’t say anything else, just takes a sharp breath, focusing on his fingers that play with the hem of his trousers. “I- Uhm- I know this might come as a surprise, but I’m not very good at letting people down.”

“A bit, I guess.” You try to humor, but your tone doesn’t show it. You sound quiet, hurt.

He peeks up at you, and continues, “Jess- the girl you met at the premiere- she’s lovely and all, but- how do I say this- we were never really supposed to be together.” Harry sighs, “I didn’t like her like that.”

You frown, “Then, why did you?”

“A couple of months before we met- before Evan even mentioned the film project to me, one of my mates kept insisting that I should meet his sister.” He pauses, “That was Jess.”

“I figured.”

Harry nods, “As I said, she’s a lovely girl, really nice, but we just- didn’t click like that, you know?” You hum in agreement, ignoring a small twist in your stomach when he repeats the endearment term. “But I guess she really wanted to try it, and, for months, I just kept pushing and pushing, cause I thought maybe with time I could bring myself to feel the same way.” And then again, another humorless laugh, “But- spoiler alert- I couldn’t and I should’ve just told her that.”

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you decide against saying anything. It’s clear as you watch him explain that the entire situation for him felt more complicated than you’d ever considered. Not once did you think about the possibility of him being caught in a twist of his own decisions, and not once did you regard his feelings with the whole situation. In your bubble of gloominess, all you could think of was how he played you and used you for a bit before moving on to the next girl that fell for his sweet talk.

Looking at him now, however, his head low and brows set on a permanent crease, lips frowning down, you can feel the internal conflict pooling out of his pores. You’re not sure if it’s exactly a look of remorse that he gives you, but it sure seems close to it.

Harry huffs in what feels like frustration as he keeps recalling the events, “But all my mates kept taking the piss, pushing me to ask her out and then, in the middle of it, I met you.” He finally smiles a bit, and you have to look down to hide the warmth that spreads on your cheeks, “And we-uh-” He shrugs, “I mean, we clicked, didn’t we?”

“I think so.” You say, just above a whisper.

“I think so, too,” Harry says, holding your gaze with his own. “And when I was with you I let myself forget about that, forget about the pressure to be with someone else, I guess.” His lips fall again, eyes meeting his lap, “But when we came back, there wasn’t much running away from it anymore. The night we got back I met that friend of mine and, I’m not sure if he said anything to Jess, but she asked me out.”

“And you said yes.”

“I said yes.” He repeats, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have, but I said yes.”

“So you just dated her? Even if you didn’t like her like that?” You say, trying to understand his thought process. Even if his words tug at your heartstrings -- which you try to not think about right now -- you still can’t help but feel a bit for the other girl.

“I thought I could- I don’t know, I thought with time maybe I could-” He stumbles around with his speech, before finally letting out a sigh, “I don’t know what was going through my head, to be honest. I was a prick.”

“At least you can admit to it.”

“I was a prick to both of you.”

You fall quiet, hoping he takes your silence as an agreement. When he doesn’t offer anything else, you speak up again, “Did it work, though?” He frowns, and you clarify, “Letting time force feelings into you?”

“I found very quickly how hard it is to develop feelings for someone when there’s someone else on your mind.” He says, and you bite back a smile that wants to spread on your lips.

“It’s very easy to say that now.”

“I know.” He agrees, “And I wish I could’ve realized that earlier, before even bringing you into this mess.” Harry reaches for your wrist, which lies on top of your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. “For that I really am sorry.”

“I know you are.” You reassure, turning your hand to find his, squeezing it back. “And what happened to Jess?”

“She was rightfully upset when I told her.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, moving the rings on your fingers around just slightly, and it’s almost enough to distract you from his voice. “We broke up a day after the premiere.”

“Ouch.”

“But it’s fine now, she’s got a boyfriend now who actually cares for her the way she deserves,” Harry says.

“That’s nice to hear, at least.”

“It is, yeah.”

You look down at your hands locked in your lap, squeezing his one more time before letting it go with a sigh. “You really made a big mess, huh?”

He chuckles, a guilty smile poking on his face, “I did.”

You nod, finally reaching for the tiny bottle left forgotten next to you, opening it. This time you only take a sip, but it’s still enough to end half of the liquid inside. You click your tongue, “I’m glad we talked, though.” You look up at Harry again, who’s already watching you, giving a small tap on his thigh. “It’s nice to have closure, you know? To give it a conclusion and wrap with a nice little bow.”

Harry rolls his lip inside his mouth, “Is this a conclusion, then?”

You raise your brows, “Is it not?”

“I guess it could be.” He shrugs one shoulder, leaning closer to you just barely, eyes trained in yours. “But I’m hoping that, after today, maybe we could start over?”

You laugh, scrunching your nose at him as you shake your head. “Not a start over, no.” You poke his side, “You’re not getting away that easy.”

“You’re right.” He says, still not budging as he frowns his lips. “But I wish it didn’t have to be an ending as well.”

“Is that so?”

Harry nods, you can tell his eyes hold a shyness that wasn’t here a minute ago, but at the same time -- as paradoxically as it seems -- there’s a boldness as well, one you’re more familiar with. “Maybe we could chat again. This time with fewer ice breaker cards and more bags of sweets.”

You smile, rubbing your chin as you pretend to ponder about his suggestion. “That does sound very promising.”

“I really do think we clicked.” He drops his playful tone as if wanting to make sure you feel the sincerity behind his words. “Wasn’t just saying it.”

“I know.” You say, “And I think so, too.”

His smirk grows, and he doesn’t offer anything else to say, but you can tell he’s holding something back. With the silence, you suddenly become too aware of the way your arms brush together, and how his knee bumps against yours. You notice how his eyes fall a bit from yours, so quickly you could’ve imagined it, but you choose to not think so. If you lean forward, you know he will too, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You’re not letting yourself make the first move.

Surely, you’re aware these thoughts are a direct result of the alcohol sweeping through your mind, testing how much of your pride you’re willing to ignore. There’s no questioning of the wall that you built all those months ago after walking out of this very house with this very man on your tail blurring out apologies. It still stands, tall and strong, and you're not letting sweet words mixed with a drink or two pull it down. Not that easily. But at this moment, looking at his stupidly beautiful face with his stupidly beautiful eyes so close to you, you feel like maybe you could peek through a window, or open up a door — just a creek, just to have a sample of what it would feel like if you were to pull it down.

“Do you want to go back?” Harry asks again, this time more quietly, this time his question has a different implication than it did before.

You're quick to shake your head, voice quiet, “Not yet.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and you raise your brows, silently daring him to ask what he’s been holding. You see his hand moving from the corner of your eyes, but you don’t break your gaze from his, not even when you feel his fingertips moving so gently against your cheekbone, brushing your hair away from your face. Harry leans closer, again just barely, and again, you stay still, only smiling softly in encouragement. Now, you’re stuck in your own silent conversation; both seeking the same thing but not making the move to achieve it -- either for pride or apprehension.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Harry whispers finally, eyes moving down again, this time slowly, making sure that his intentions are clear.

“Do it, then.” You tease.

Harry breathes out a laugh, his hand caressing its way down to your jaw. He rubs his thumb against your cheek, a feathery touch, taking another second to look at you before pulling you in. Your eyes fall closed, as you focus on your senses, and allow yourself to peek from that window, or creek that door open just a bit, to have just this moment to remember when you first got lost in his touch.

First, it’s the warmth of his breath tickling your cupid bow, making your hold your own breath in anticipation. Then, the tip of his nose, gentle against your own, and you can’t help but lean in a bit more when you feel the ghost of his lips on yours. But he pulls back, just so slightly, hoping to have you reach for him again. Except you don’t, knowing what he’s trying to do.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, pulling back just a bit to look him in the eye. “You don’t get to tease me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, “That’s fair.”

This time, there’s no teasing. Still, he goes in just as slowly as he did the first time around, curving his lips around your bottom one so softly it almost makes you lean in again. His kiss is cloud-like in a way that makes you a bit dizzy and when he presses his lips harder, you have to refrain from letting out a dreamy sigh -- still too stubborn to give him the satisfaction. It’s when you feel the tip of his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip in a silent request, that you pull away completely.

It’s your turn to smirk now, licking your lips before announcing, “I think we should go back now.”

#harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine

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mrsamaroevans · 4 years ago

Text

NOT A THIRD CHANCE | MIGUEL GALINDO

Fandom: Mayans M.C.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Female Reader.

Words: 3,844.

Warnings: Spoilers of season 3 of Mayans MC. English is not my first language, so, sorry if there are grammar mistakes or if the redaction is poor.

A/N: I always try to keep this short and I end up writing more than 3k words :c Sorry! *GIF NOT MINE*

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

You knew him so well that you knew when he was lying and when he was telling the truth.

You already suspected it for weeks. All those trips to Mexico... he had never made as many as in the past months, and, it came to a point where he didn't hide the reasons for his trips from you, he no longer hid anything that had to do with the cartel, why would he have started doing it again?

But when those pictures arrived… you hadn't realized until then that you were praying for your suspicions not to be true. But there were no longer any doubts. You already had the facts and although it broke your heart, you took your things, you took your son, and you left the house without giving any prior sign.

Miguel hadn't even realized it and that was probably what hurt you the most. That first night you were away from home, he was away too. He was in México. The next afternoon when he arrived and didn't find you, that's when he started calling you but all he got was your voicemail. And then he saw the pictures you left on the bed and understood everything.

He had no idea where you could have gone. You stopped talking to your family a year ago, your best friend hadn't heard from you in days. Two days after thinking and looking at your statements for some signs, he knew where you went.

It was the only place you could have gone for support. You always told him that.

“Why did you disappear like that?” Was the first thing he asked when you opened the door “I was worried”

“In the arms of Palomo, sure” you nodded and crossed your arms in your chest as you leaned against the front door frame “What happened? She got tired of sharing?”

“Amor…”

“Don’t call me that” You interrupted him. Your voice came out more aggressive than you thought it would, but hearing him call you that way when he could have been calling another woman the same, caught you off guard and made you angry in just a second. “You have no right to call me that”

Miguel looked hurt and regretful, but you couldn't let that distract you. You couldn't fall that fast again.

“It’s not what you think,” he said and from the way he sounded, you knew he also thought it was a weak excuse.

“So it’s photoshopped? Really? That’s your defense?” You asked with a bitter laugh.

“Let me explain—”

“No… listen, Miguel, I’m too tired,” you said sighing. Your head was spinning around because, although you knew you had to face him sometime, you were not ready to do it so quickly “I’m so tired of your excuses. I’ve been hearing them for months, I’m done”

“Don’t say that… (Y/n), please let me fix it” he insisted, but you shook your head to cut him off.

“I talked to my lawyer,” You said and now the one who was taken by surprise was him “The papers will be home tomorrow, so please sign them”

“What?” Miguel shook his head, your request seemed to make him angry “No… I’m not gonna sign anything without trying to fix what I did first”

You were about to say something when a few steps coming from the kitchen made you look back.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Felipe said when he saw you two at the door. You have never been so grateful for an interruption before.

“It’s okay, Felipe, Miguel is leaving now,” you said turning back to the man in front of you. He knew exactly what you were doing, but he didn't want to leave, not yet. He still had a lot to say, but you didn't feel like listening anymore.

“I want to see my son” he demanded but you didn’t accept it.

“He’s taking a nap” you answered with a sharp tone “If you want to see him another time, I’m not gonna forbid you, but I’m not gonna let you interrupt his nap now”

The next times you spoke to him were through text messages. He was busy with the cartel and you had been very clear that you didn't want him to go to the Reyes' house other than to see Cristobal and whenever he had time it was already too late at night.

You were hardly ever alone. Ez went home with Emily whenever they could, Angel also went sometimes, and having gone to them had not only worked for you but for Felipe as well. Your son had more people who paid attention to him and played with him and he was very happy about it. His happiness was contagious, so nobody at home could be sad or worry whenever he was awake.

The days were easy to get through, but the nights? That was a completely different story.

Because, no matter how tired you were, you spent hours tossing and turning in bed thinking about everything. You couldn't help but remember the good times with Miguel and all those promises that he had made that now no longer existed. You were angry, hurt, and sad, you wanted to burn and break everything, but not even with all those feelings you could put aside the fact that, although your heart was broken, it still belonged to Miguel and you didn't know if one day that would change.

“Daddy!!!”

From the grass, you saw your husband getting close to where you were and saw how he received with a smile and open arms to your son who ran happily towards him. The laughter of your son when his father held him in his arms filled your heart and somehow, made it harder to keep with the decision you had made when you saw those pictures.

“Mi niño... How are you?” Miguel asked him with a big smile on his face “You good?”

“Yes” Cristobal nodded and your still husband turned to you. You were still sitting on the grass and when Miguel saw you trying to stand up, he came over and offered his hand to help you. “Don Felipe is amazing,” Cristobal said and Miguel took his attention back to him “And tío Ez and tío Angel too”

And even though Miguel was not that happy to hear those names, he nodded “I bet they are”

You heard a bike and your son got immediately excited. You had just more than two weeks staying at Felipe's house, but he already identified when Angel or Ez arrived home. He even identified the sound of Felipe's truck.

Cristobal moved in Miguel's arms for him to put him down, and he, without understanding, did so.

“Tío Angel is home,” Cristobal said jumping around and turning towards you. You knew what that look meant. He was asking your permission to go with Angel like every afternoon when he, his brother, or his father came home.

“Go,” you told him and smiled at his reaction. Cristobal ran towards the street and Miguel turned to you.

Cristobal never did that with him. Yes, the house was big enough so he would never hear the cars coming in, but, he didn’t even show that much excitement whenever he crossed the door of any room where he was.

“You think it's safe for him to go out alone?” Miguel asked you so you turned back to him and nodded.

“Angel's waiting for him,” You said nodding again. The Reyes already knew they had to wait outside until Cristobal got to them. They loved coming home to a swirl of excitement. “I thought you were going to México”

Angel walked into the backyard before Miguel could say anything. He had some bags in one of his hands and Cristobal’s little hand in the other one. Both men just nodded when their gazes met.

“Dinner's ready,” Angel said showing you the bags. You had asked him to stop by for some food before going home “Ez and Emily are helping pops, it won’t take them long...”

“You want to join us?” You asked Miguel and he immediately shook his. You already knew what his answer would be, if you had known he would accept, you wouldn’t have asked.

“No. I just came to see my son and talk to you” Miguel answered and you could notice his emphasis when he talked about Cristobal. Miguel knew how to hide his feelings, but you knew he was hating to see his son taking your ex's hand.

“Why don't you put the table?” You turned to Angel and he nodded, taking Cristobal inside the house when he understood you needed to talk to Miguel alone. “Did you sign the papers?” You asked once your son was far enough away so he couldn’t hear.

“I already told you I'm not going to sign anything,” he said irritated. His gaze was still in the door where Cristobal and Angel disappeared.

“Miguel, don't make this harder,” you asked, sighing tiredly. It was probably the fifth or sixth time you asked him to sign the divorce papers “If you're worried about not seeing Cristobal, I already told you not to worry”

“Amor... We need to talk this” he said “We can't let everything we've built go just like that”

“Just like that?” You repeated while frowning “Why didn't you think about that before sleeping with her?” You rhetorically asked, “You’re asking me to not forget everything we’ve been through, but if you did, why couldn’t I?” Your eyes filled with tears. Even though you’ve been away for two weeks, it frustrated you to not be able to feel anything like he did whenever he went to México with Palomo “I honestly don’t know what did you need… sometimes I feel like I failed you in something”

“You didn’t,” he said immediately, taking a step towards you. You didn't step back because despite wanting to hate him for what he did, you couldn't help but want to feel him close.

“Then?” He asked, but he didn't answer. There were no more excuses that he could use “You know what’s funny? You used to be mad whenever Angel was around, you didn’t stand to hear his name. You were so worried about me cheating with him and the only one cheating was you”

“My mother died, I… I was out of my mind; I was hurt and—”

“I was too and I didn’t run into somebody else’s arms” your voice trembled so you had to clear your throat before continuing “All those times you said you didn’t want to be like your father… Well, you are”

“(Y/n)…” Miguel tried to get closer to you and when you took a step back, his eyes filled with tears now.

“You can come to see Cristobal as many times as you want, but don’t come to talk to me until you sign those papers,” you said putting more distance between the two of you and getting closer to the door “Cristobal! Come say bye to your dad!”

Miguel pressed his eyes with the palm of his hands and tried to look his best by the time Cristobal went out to say goodbye to him.

That night, Cristobal decided that he wanted Felipe to be the one to tuck him in and read him a bedstory, and he wasn't willing to take "no" for an answer. But Felipe didn't care. Happily, after the kid's bath, he went up to the room that had been Ez's to do what the boy had asked, leaving you and his youngest son alone in the living room.

“Since when you drink wine?” He asked you when you poured yourself another drink. You were in the living room, sitting on the couch in front of the television. Emily had left a few hours earlier “Angel said you were the reason why Bishop started to order more beer” he joked.

“Bulshit” You laughed and Ez did too “It’s not that bad, wanna try it?” You asked, offering him your glass, but Ez shook his head, giving a suspicious look at the liquid in your glass.

“Angel said that Galindo stopped by” Ez took his beer and gave it a sip, then leaned against the back of the couch and turned to look at you.

You chuckled “He came with more excuses” you shook your head without turning to him.

You were silent for a couple of minutes, minutes in which you almost finished the red liquid in your glass. You were so focused on not feeling or thinking anything that when Ez spoke again, you just barely got what he said.

“Remember what you told me when we saw each other again after I got out?” He asked with his gaze fixed on you. You smiled when that memory came to you. Meeting your best friend after 8 years of not seeing him was one of the best things that ever happened to you.

“I told you many things,” you said, knowing too well what he was referring to.

“You said that I made a mistake as everybody does,” He said it even so. You looked down when you heard those words. You said that after he told you how embarrassed he would have been if he had allowed you to see him while he was in prison. You had tried to make him feel better. You never believed that those words could be used against you, let alone make you feel worse than you already felt. “Nobody’s perfect”

You laughed lightly. You moved so he would be in front of you.

“You’re Hannah Montana now?” You asked making him laugh. He gave another sip of his beer and then sighed.

“You love him and he loves you…” He said. You knew how hard it was for him to admit it. He never liked the idea of you marrying Miguel “He made a mistake, just like me and so many people”

“So you think I should go back and pretend that nothing happened?” You raised one of your eyebrows as a small smile appeared on your face. It was probably the alcohol in your system, or probably just you wanting to pretend that the whole thing was not that important to you anymore.

“Pretend that nothing happened? No” Ez shook his head immediately.

“What do you think I should do then?”

“What I think is not important” your friend shrugged “It’s only your decision to make”

And yes. It was. But it was one of the hardest decisions you have ever had to make in your life.

The next days Miguel called you, completely ignoring the fact that you had asked him not to speak to you unless what he was going to tell you was that he had already signed the papers. He talked to Cristobal by video call when he couldn't go to see him, but for the last two days, he hadn't even sent a text. You only knew he got busy and had to do with job matters.

Until one day when you were with your son and Felipe at the butcher shop, Nestor called you. He sounded concerned when he told you that Miguel was a mess and that he felt that you would be the only one who could calm him down, so you agreed to go home when Felipe told you that he would watch your son.

On your way there, you were worried about what you might find when you arrived. Although Miguel always showed his true feelings to you, he rarely loses control, and you were worried about him because he was the father of your child and because even if you didn't want to, you still loved him.

“Nestor…” you said when you parked your car. Your husband's best friend was already waiting for you there “Where is he?”

“Office… he doesn’t look good” he informed you while you walked into the house “The office will need a makeover”

You sighed when you were already in front of his office door. You couldn't hear anything from there, he had probably calmed down a bit by now, but after what had happened with his mother, you quickly opened the door only to find him sitting on the couch with his gaze lost at some point in the room.

The office was a mess. There were books all over the floor, the pages of some were peeled off their covers. The desk lamp was broken and there was a mark on the nearby wall, that made you think he had thrown it at it. The few things on the desk —because many were scattered throughout the room— were messy and even one of the windows was broken.

“Hey…” you said when he didn't turn to you. He wasn't wearing his jacket and his dress shirt was disheveled.

“What are you doing here?” Miguel asked when he heard your voice. It was not exactly an invitation for you to get close, but you did it anyway, being careful to not step on anything in the way “Álvarez called you?”

“No… I needed more clothes for Cristobal” You lied. Thinking about it though, it wasn't entirely a lie. The one who called you was Nestor, not Álvarez “You good?” You asked when you sat next to him after moving some papers. When you were closer to him you noticed that there were tear trails on his cheeks.

“No” He answered, not turning to see you still “I’m not good” he repeated “My wife left with my son, my mother’s dead and I just found out that I knew a version of my mother that wasn’t her,” he said, closing his eyes and throwing his head back “And it was all my fault”

“What happened with your mother wasn’t your fault,” You told him because you knew he's been struggling with those thoughts since what happened.

“I could have done more” he muttered.

“Your mother made a decision and she would have found the way to do it whenever she wanted” Although those words probably wouldn't make him feel better, it was something he had to understand and accept sooner or later. “It’s not your fault”

Miguel nodded even though he didn't completely believe what you said.

“I found a picture of her in one of her books,” he said and turned to you for the first time to ask you: “Felipe knew her; you knew?”

You sighed and nodded “Yes”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, his eyes filled with tears.

“‘Cause she asked me no to”

Miguel sighed and sopped for a second before continuing. Your heart was already broken by the mistake he made, but it was breaking a bit more for seeing him in that state.

“I went to talk to him… he told me he was in love with her. He told me that my mom loved to dance, can you imagine? The woman I had to convince to dance with me in our wedding… loved to dance” he smiled and you did the same, the difference was that his tears began to fall before than yours “I didn’t know that” he shook his head looking down as his smile faded “Felipe said that she had to leave parts of her behind ‘cause they didn’t fit with being José Galindo’s wife” his face seemed to radiate hatred. You knew that Miguel and his father didn't have a close relationship, but you knew that he was fond of him and you had never seen him with that expression while talking about him. “I signed the papers,” he said and those words made your eyes start to fill with tears.

“Why did you change your mind?” You asked trying to make your voice come out as calm as possible.

“You have lost so many things since the day I met you” he winced “Your family, your friends, the club… your social circle went smaller” his voice trembled. He seemed more affected than you by that fact. You had never cared about losing friends or family because Miguel never really made you stopped seeing them. They had decided to walk away on their own “I don’t want you to become my mother…”

You got closer to him and grabbed his hand “You know that wasn’t the reason behind my decision, Miguel, you know it too well”

“Yes, I fucked it up” he nodded “But that’s what I mean… you gave me everything and more than you could. You sacrificed so many things, you’ve been there for me in the worst moments. You gave me my son… and I failed you”

Now, you two were already crying. You let him intertwine his fingers with yours.

“I love you and it hurt me to know that you maybe didn’t love me the same—” you confessed and you felt his hand lightly squeeze yours.

“It wasn’t the case…” he interrupted you right away “I love you the same as ever. It wasn’t your fault, it was all me” he sobbed “If I could go back in time and change it… I would”

You fell silent. That conversation you had with Ez about the mistakes that everyone makes went through your mind. That conversation had made you reconsider your decision, and you hadn't stopped thinking about it since that night.

Who were you kidding? You loved that man and as much as you wanted to follow your pride, deep down you didn't want to get away from him.

You let go of his hand and took the folder that you put away before. When you opened it, you realized that they were the divorce papers already signed by him. Your signature was already there too but it wasn't official yet. You would have to take them back to the lawyer so he could do the rest.

“Do you want to do this?” You asked turning to him. Miguel immediately shook his head.

“Te amo. I’m only doing it for you”

You looked down at the papers on your lap. You knew Miguel too well, you know when he was lying and when he was telling the truth. You were sure he was being honest. So you took the papers and tore them up, making Miguel look up at you.

You looked at him and saw the relief and thankfulness on his face.

“Don’t fuck it up again” you said, cupping his face in your hands as he shook his head.

“I won’t… I promise” Miguel took your hands, kissed them, and then hugged you tightly “Thank you” he muttered in your neck “Oh, God, I missed you so much” he cried as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I mean it, Miguel,” you said, leaning back so you could see him in the eyes “Don’t fuck it up again”

“I know” he nodded “I swear I won’t”

You smiled and let him come closer so he could kiss you, sealing that promise you were sure he would keep.

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x oc #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo fanfiction #Mayans MC #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy fandom #fanfiction #mrsamaroevans

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doubledgesword-2 · 4 years ago

Note

Can I get Vil Schoenheit x Rival Celebrity? They shoot insults at each other but end up flirting? Take it as far as you want! Any gender reader is fine lol

Oh, ma Gooosh!! This is the first Matcha Tea I've gotten, and I'm all for this. I had so much fun with this one, and I want to show you lil' sugar cubes the difference between characters I know and the ones that I don't. I do my research before writing a character that I'm unfamiliar with, but I will be sincere: I butchered the last request (Shalnark's). I will try to rewrite it, but other characters apart from the stated ones are a bit hard for me ( ˘︹˘ ).

I will always try my best for ya'll! Enjoy this steaming Matcha (❛‿❛✿)

“What a shameless potato,” nimble fingers scrolled down on their phone, looking at the menagerie of pictures from one single account: yours.

You and Vil were from the same industry, just not the same department per se. While he was a model and actor, you were a j pop star and actress. Your popularity and his were on the same level, but he was slightly higher if you asked him or his fans. Ever since the two of you met on set for a fantasy-like movie, you repelled each other’s presence like oil and water.

Amethyst eyes glared at your smiling picture, and a thousand critiques passed through his mind. Your make-up did not complement your features; what was your make-up artist thinking? That nail polish didn’t match with your skin, and your haircut didn’t go with your face and countless other thoughts. But that wasn’t his place to tell, and besides, you living in his head rent-free wasn’t good for his skin. Stress kills, and thinking about you was very stressful.

The subway doors opened, and Vil gripped his side bag, adjusting his beret and sunglasses and walking out with the amount of confidence and power it took to walk down the runway. The sea of people diligently coming and going parted for him without a cue. They just did like mindless fish around a predator. It was in their nature to give in, in the presence of something so regal.

Vil had a photoshoot to go, and he couldn’t miss a beat. His agenda was full and complicated; anyone who tried to follow it would surely lose their minds after the first three days of the same arduous pace. But he could handle it with the grace of a swan. He was the great Vil Shoenheit. He wondered if you could handle a week in his shoes. You probably would drop exhausted and disheveled, complaining about the hard work. The thought made him smirk smugly, and passerby fans who recognized him couldn’t even keep up to ask for an autograph.

He just couldn’t fathom how you had such a fan base with your attitude and manners. Sure, in front of the cameras, you were a sweetheart, stealing everyone’s hearts, singing like an empowered angel, and making them think you were as far from the villain he knew you truly were. Vil knew your kind and recognized it the moment he met you on set. Heck, you couldn’t even contain your disdain in interviews when the two of you had to sit side by side. It was uncomfortable, to say the least; the poor reporter was so painfully awkward trying to alleviate the tenseness in the room.

“So (Y/N), how do you feel being an actress in a big-budget movie while also singing and performing the next week? Is it exhausting?”

You sided glared at Vil, and gave the reporter a smug grin. “Well, I think I can handle a little bit of work. It’s not in me to sit around and look pretty, you know. But then again, I guess that’s what some people are into, so we can’t judge them. They might not understand hard work.”

Vil smiled with closed eyes. You were such an amateur. If it weren’t for the fact that you were actively throwing shade on him and being so annoying at it, too, he might think you were cute.

Of course, Vil wouldn’t back down; that’s not what he was taught. The crown was his, and he would take it with hard work and determination. Which means potatoes like you don’t really matter in the long run of things.

“Vil-senpai, how do you manage your modeling gig and your acting? I mean, it must be hard to run from one event to the next since they’re so close behind each other?”

“Well, dear, we models are more than just a pretty face. We represent big companies and events that many couldn’t even fathom getting into. My schedule might be a bit tight, but I was born into this lifestyle, and I have learned many skills to help me move and work in these types of environments. I can say one thing for sure not a lot of people can handle my agenda, one day in my heels, and they might slip if you know what I mean, darling.”

You scoffed under your breath, and it made Vil’s smile grow wider.

“Ahh, Vil-senpai is a hard worker for sure. Perhaps one day I could do an interview that can provide insight to one day of your agenda.”

“Anytime you want, darling, it would be lovely,” he knew with every word that came out of his mouth; you simmered even more.

“Are there any hobbies or activities that can fit into your schedules?

Vil was about to open his mouth when you beat him to it.

“Well, I don’t think he’s allowed to have any, you know, with his busy schedule. But I do love partaking in (hobby). I think it is a nice way to unwind and take my mind off of everything. Since stress it’s not good for your vocals, you know. I try to keep myself in top shape for my lovely fans.”

Vil was raging. How dare you interrupt him when he was clearly about to talk. Didn’t your parent taught you any manners, or are you so much of a spoiled brat to care for?

“Ahh, interesting. Does Vil Sendai have any hobbies in particular?

“As a matter of fact, I do” you were looking at him with an expectant smirk. You were genuinely curious to hear what he had to say. “I like to make beauty and make-up tutorials that are beneficial for a lot of my fans. I like to show them how to use brushes correctly what and what not to do with concealer. Those are bonding moments for me and my fans. I think they are important.”

At the end of that interview, a single question brought the anger and tense meter to burst. Now the tensions and dislikes weren’t palpable. They were visible.

“Oh, I’ve had some partners, but I like to focus more on my work, unlike some other artists who like to jump around; my projects come first, and I don’t want to ruin my partner’s and I relationship by not spending enough time with them.”

“Wow, he really doesn’t like to have fun.”

“I do just not with the likes of you.”

“Come on, pretty boy, you couldn’t handle me even if you were begging pretty on your knees.”

“Dream on, potato, you might be prettier than most potatoes, but you’re still that a potato with some potential. I bet if push came to shove, you wouldn’t last seconds with me.

“I bet you wouldn’t make it into the second round without having to retouch your make-up with me. Besides, it’s not like you’ll last long enough to even sweat that much.”

“Well, that’s a relief to know I wouldn’t have to put much effort into pleasing someone like you.”

The reporter was utterly flushed, and that was cut from the interview recording. Good thing that it was, or people might’ve gotten the wrong impression. That you liked each other or something.

Or something.

After that interview, rumors spread like they always do, and fans started gossiping about the two of you secretly together but having to hate each other in public to save face since it’s a big rumor that singers and models don’t actually go well together in the industry.

Such wild imagination and machinations fans have. It brought out a small chuckle.

Vil passed through the automatic doors telling the receptionist his name and guiding him to the set. Once there, he settled his stuff over the make-up table and sat back to look once more through his phone.

“Have you seen this?” A text notification annoying appeared on the screen.

Vil tch and opened the message to reveal a very well photoshopped photo of him and you sitting and drinking at some café. You were smiling like he just told you you were beautiful, and it was a good look on you.

This was outrageous. Who would go to such lengths? Suddenly a bag dropped right on the table next to him. He looked up to meet your eyes as you took off your sunglasses, slowly realizing who was sitting beside you.

“Oh no,” you faintly muttered underneath your breath but not faintly enough that Vil couldn’t hear you.

He scoffed and went back to look at the stupid picture, texting his manager as mad as he was.

“Oh, you saw it too,” you commented, sitting down and looking at your own phone.

Vil didn’t answer. He really didn’t care about your opinion on this; his credibility was on the line. He was supposed to hate you, and that’s how things should go.

“Well, at least they got a good angle of my face, not to mention I’m actually smiling for once.”

“Actually, smil- what are you talking about potato? All you do is smile in all of your pictures. That’s why you have to hide your wrinkles with make-up,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Well, as presumptuous as that was, proud little peacock, I actually never smile genuinely for the cameras. My genuine smile is reserved for good moments. I guess not anymore.”

At that, Vil felt like the two of you clicked. He knew the feeling, the invasive nature of fame, and the lack of privacy was very real in the industry. It’s the first thing you have to get through. But listening to you say made him realize you’re just like him.

“Well, if you behave during the shoot, I might feel inclined to reward you for good behavior” he grinned at you.

“Mmm, you make it sound as if you don’t like the way I make you crumble in front of everyone. It’s like you’re denying yourself the pleasure, and here I thought you liked the masochism.”

“Hahahaha, I’ll step on you once we’re done here. Maybe that and a little bit of discipline will put you in your place. However, your lack of manners and running mouth might be a problem; perhaps all you need is a nice pacifier. I can help with that.”

You both were so close to each other muttering salacious threats that you didn’t realize how flustered everyone else was in the room.

It was going to be another one of those shoots.

#twisted wonderland #vil x reader #vil x mc #vil shoenheit #twisted wonderland fandorm #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland fic #fanfiction #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland vil #disney twst #twst vil

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suchalonelysunflower · 5 years ago

Text

“Snapchat Memories”

(Calum Hood X Reader || Fluff)

Summary: Y/N is in denial about the new romantic feelings towards the bassist of 5SOS. Luckily, Snapchat keeps their memories alive.

Warnings: Strong Language, mentions of the pandemic and quarantine, nicotine addiction and alcohol. bad English (not my first language, sorry)

Word Count: 2.7 K

A/N: My first Calum Fic on my first post on my new blog! So exited!! Please comment and reblog if you want 🦋 Feedback is always welcomed!

You’re sitting in a black leather couch. It doesn’t bother you that it’s old and in dyer need of cleaning. You were with him and that’s all that mattered now.

When Calum invited you to the studio today, your immediate response was ‘yes’. It’s been weeks since you have seen him. After the pandemic, the guys went on tour almost immediately, not trying to waste anymore time without being on stage and seeing their fans. So you didn’t have much time to catch up in real life.

You were always in touch though, always FaceTiming and texting… But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him to death.

Calum has been your best friend for years. He tried to flirt with you once at a party years ago and it backfired horribly when he spilled his drink on you. He was mortified, but you laughed it off. Ever since that day you were inseparable.

You were there for all the major events, the concerts and tours. You became close not only with Calum, but with the rest of the boys as well, they practically adopted you as one of them by now and you couldn’t be prouder of how far those 4 Australians idiots came.

But being so close to them came with also being shipped with them, specially Calum. You brushed it off at first, saying ‘we’re like family!’ Time and time again someone asked. And it was true at the beginning, but lately something’s changed.

Lately you would wait by the phone, hoping his name would show up. You found yourself smiling like an idiot every time he texted you or you were just thinking about him and all the moments you spent together, trying to decipher if, maybe, he thought of you as being more than just friends. At first you thought it was just your quarantined brain making it all up, that it was impossible for him and you to have romantic feelings for each other.

But you couldn’t deny the way your heart stopped every time you saw him, or the way your eyes lingered on his body when he’s playing, or the way the sound of his laugh could make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside…. You couldn’t deny it, but you were determined to push them away. It’s not like he felt the same anyways.

You smiled while you watched him play with some random notes on his bass, immerse in his own thoughts and smiling a little bit when he heard something he liked. It was a sight for sore eyes seeing him so free and joyful while doing something he loved. He lived for his music and it showed.

“You’re about to burn a hole on him if you keep staring like that” you heard a voice say next to you.

Michael plowed down next to you on the couch, waking you up from your daydream. You looked at him and rolled your eyes.

“I’m not staring”

“Like hell you’re not” He stated, laughing “You were undressing him with your eyes a few seconds ago!”

Okay, that earned him a punch in the arm.

“Shut up, Clifford! I’m just thinking” you said annoyed.

“Yeah, ways to take off his pants…”

You blushed at his comment and got your fist ready to punch him again, this time to actually hurt him a little bit. But he quickly catched your fist before you could actually touch him.

“Oh, c'mon Y/N! I’m only joking”

“Well that joke’s getting old now, Michael. It’s been going on for years, so get over it. And besides…” your gaze met the floor “We’re only friends, nothing more”

“Yeah? Keep telling yourselves that” He said. But before you could ask what he meant by that, he was already up and entering the recording booth.

He said something to Calum that made him look up at you and smile.

You’re sure that only an angel could smile like that.

An hour passed and you found yourself outside the studio, cigarette on your hand and a nicotine cloud around your head.

You were trying to quit, but it’s easier said than done. You took another puff and released the smoke towards the sky, your eyes got lost on the scenery for a while. There were no sunsets like the LA ones, that’s for sure. The sky seemed photoshopped, you could see how the clouds were puffy and light and how the colors pink, orange and purple mixed together the perfect ethereal sight, they were saying goodbye and hello at the same time.

You could’ve watched the sky forever, but the ding of a new notification on your phone kept you from doing that.

It was a Snapchat memory from a few years ago. You opened it, curious of what you might find and if it was worth remembering, hoping it could distract you for a while.

On the first video you saw yourself in a car, you had that stupid filter that made your voice high pitched and widen your mouth and eyes. You were singing along to a random Ariana Grande’s song when you suddenly moved the camera towards the person next to you. Now it was Calum’s face the one with the filter, but his face was serious.

“I’m not gonna sing it, Y/N!” He said trying to sound stern, unaware that the voice filter made him sound anything but.

“Cal! You promised”

“No I’m not gonna…. This is the part where I say I don’t wanna…” he sang to the camera when the chorus came blasting through the radio.

You smiled at the memory of you two singing together, completely out of tune and messing up the words until you heard a “Shut up” from one of the boys, probably Ashton.

Then the story continued, this time it was a picture of you pouting with a message that said: “When your friend puts you on time out for something you didn’t do”

You tapped the screen and another video came up. It was clear that you were backstage of one of their concerts, Calum was standing in the middle of the dressing room talking to Michael when your voice cut him off.

“Can I please be free?” You tried to plead.

Calum turned to you with his signature ‘are u kidding me’ face and said:

“Not until you think about what you did and say you’re sorry”

“I didn’t eat your chocolate! I swear” you most definitely did, unknowingly yes, but it wasn’t something you’d admit.

The video ended when Michael started laughing at you and you flipped him off.

You giggled to yourself, happy that Snapchat existed and had all your memories storage. You were going to move on to the next part of your story when a voice next to you made you jump.

“So, did you or did you not eat my chocolate that day?”

You didn’t notice that Calum was beside you until he startled you. He was leaning up against the wall, his own cigarette lighted up as he looked at you with an amused face, making your heart flip as you took him in.

“You should quit, you know?” You said pointing at his cigarette, trying to sound unbothered by the loud beating of your heart.

“I’ll do it when you do it”

Calum’s eyes were fixed on yours. His smile never faded.

“But you’re changing the topic”

“I’m not changing the topic” you answered “I’m avoiding it”

“So you did eat it!”

“Calum, it was years ago! I don’t remember”

“Well someone’s a liar” he laughed “Whacha doing?”

“Snapchat‘s just showing me some memories of a few years ago. I think it’s that concert on Phoenix”

Calum came closer to you, laying his head on your shoulder. You swore you stopped breathing for a second there, but forced yourself to control it. He was just your friend.

The story continued with some concert videos you took from backstage. You felt your face get warmer as you noticed that most of them were of Calum giving his all on stage, but he didn’t seem to notice.

The last video was of the boys stepping out of the stage, each one of them giving you a high five when they passed you by. All of them except Calum. When he saw you, he started running towards you and lifted you up over his shoulders, carrying you towards the dressing room again.

“Ugh, let me go you sweaty boy!” You said of camera, mocking a disgust tone.

“Never! Sweaty or not, you love me”

You let out a defeated sigh before answering softly “Yeah, I guess I do”

The stories ended with that last bit, leaving a bittersweet taste on your mouth. Calum lifted his head off your shoulders and you shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah” you nodded “It’s my fault for not bringing a jacket”

Calum smiled and in a quick move he took off his jacket and put it around your shoulders, adjusting it a little bit.

“Cal, you don’t have to do that” you said lowering your gaze.

But he was still standing in front of you, hands adjusting his jacket around your frame.

“But I want to, Y/N” he said softly.

In a brave move, you shoot your eyes up, only to find his already looking at you, taking you in. Almost like he wanted to remember you like this.

“Y/N, I…”

He started, not taking his eyes of you or stepping back. You were holding your breath, scared of what he’s going to say.

“I really missed you”

You smiled softly, trying to hide your disappointment.

“I missed you too, Calum”

“No, I really missed you” he said more seriously “Not only when we were in quarantine, or when we left for tour. I’m talking about when you’re ten minutes away in your home, or when we’re at the same party but at different ends, and even ten minutes ago when you came here to smoke. Everytime you’re not here I find myself missing you more than I should, even if you’re in the same building”

You stared at him confused, it saying anything. He took it as a que to continue.

“I find myself thinking of you and needing you more than I should. And I don’t know why I’m saying this now, what made me brave enough to say it. Maybe because, after seeing those videos something clicked and I realized that I want that with you. I want you to be with me, to be part of my life as long as possible”

“Calum, I’m always going to be there…” you said quietly. But he shook his head, bringing you even closer to him.

“Y/N… I know that and I don’t mean it like that I’m just” his voice suddenly sounded weak with the last few words, shifting his gaze from your eyes to your lips, looking at you almost pleading “I’m afraid of screwing the best thing in my life”

“What do..?” But you couldn’t finish the questions as Calum brought his lips to yours.

You were taken aback at first, but you kissed him back as soon as your head wrapped around on what was happening. His hands were on the jacket as he pulled you close to him. His lips were soft and tasted sweet on yours. It finally happened, you kissed your best friend and it was everything you’d hope for.

You hummed into the kiss, giving him more access in your mouth. There was no battle for dominance, but rather a dance of your mouths together, enjoying the intimacy. Your hands flew directly to his hair while his went down and grabbed you by your waist, molding you together as one piece of a whole. You realized in that moment that there was no other place you’d rather be than in Calum’s embrace.

After a while, you were the first one to pull away when the lack of air was apparent. Calum chased your lips when he felt them apart and rested his forehead against yours.

“Y/N, I don’t know if you noticed but I don’t want to be friends anymore” he said, eyes closed and trying to catch his breath.

“Well, that’s a cruel way to say it” you teased with a smile.

Calum gave you a small giggle as he stood straight, looking at you properly.

“I should’ve done that a long time ago” He said caressing you cheek with his hand.

“How much long ago?”

“Honestly? Since I threw that beer on you the first time we met”

You both laugh and you pulled him close to you again, wrapping your arms around his waist and hiding your face on his chest.

“But seriously tho, I should’ve said something a long time ago. The boys were right to tease me about it”

“The boys?” You asked, looking at him without moving form the embrace.

“They all knew I had a big crush on you for the longest time. Always teased me that I was being too obvious but didn’t do shit about it and that it was painful to watch”

“Well, it wasn’t that obvious. I didn’t know a thing” you laugh “But if it makes you feel better, I also had a huge crush on you for a long time and they teased me about it as well”

“Our friends are assholes” he said laughing with you.

“Hey! Don’t call us that!” You heard someone yell.

Looking up, you saw your other three best friends watching you two from a window, smirking like idiots.

“It’s about time you two!”

“Y/N and Calum sitting in a tree K I S S I N G”

Calum flipped them off as they started singing, pretending to be annoyed “Fuck off!” but his huge smile betrayed him.

“How about we get out of here?” You asked

“Great idea” he said, bringing you closer to him once again, and kissing you softly for a moment “I’ll bring your bag and the keys of my car. Wait for me?”

You smiled.

“I’m not going anywhere”

Calum went inside once more. You looked up to see three smiling faces smiling back at you.

“You really love that boy, don’t ya?” Asked Luke.

“Yeah, I guess I do”

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steve0discusses · 4 years ago

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S5 Ep6: Joey Wheeler is on Fire, Yet Again

Came down with a little sickness-not the biggie, just a little sly guy. But I took some meds, I’m a little floaty, I’ve only been listening to baroque music all morning for some reason? And I hate baroque music usually? But I’ll leave it to bro to tell me if this is fluid enough.

Just so you know, these caps were kind of a hot mess for a while and some of them read like that Garfield in of hot eat the food comic until...today. So pls don’t judge me, Judge my damn DMV where no one was following Covid regulations because I’m pretty sure that’s where I got this damn cold.

We start off with Roland getting more attention than he ever has in his entire life. Like honestly, I don’t know what Roland’s job really is...but he’s got a very diverse set of very useless skills. One of which, is knowing how to announce sports games that aren’t really a sport, while those games he’s announcing slowly fall into chaos.

Anyway, Roland’s taking so long cherishing his sweet time before everything goes to hell, that he’s boring Joey, who’s kinda turned into a ball of stress in the waiting room.

A lot of this episode is us watching them watching Joey having a break down moment by moment, TBH.

(read more under the cut)

Yugi telling Joey to study his cards and straight up--what?

Like at this point they know what’s on the cards, right? Like there comes a point where even Yugioh cards have a finite amount of words and I’m just going to assume that like...Joey probably knows them all in his own deck, right?

(bro note: they have no limit on what they will put on a card)

Then again, maybe Yugi doesn’t know what “study” means?

Also, appreciate how some artist crosshatched the hell on Joey’s nose there and I zoomed out and ruined it.

Now for some reason every duelist is hanging out in the duel lodge, including our current arch-villain guy who’s brought a book. I want to know what book this guy even reads so no one could suspect he’s actually a hacker who uses computers. He’s reading romance, right? And I don’t think he’d even be into Twilight, I think he’s straight up into hard core Mom romance like a lame ass Nicholas Sparks over there reading “Dear John” for the millionth time because he is completely un-phased by anything else happening in this room.

Joey, our hero, just out there being an asshole for no reason.

After Tea is pushed into a locker or something screaming about her need for female friends (which she screamed in earshot of Rebecca again, who I figured was on friends terms with her after last episode...but I guess not) Leon hops up to remind us that we should be caring about the fact that his character exists.

And like, I love Leon’s hair color--that’s a good choice, and legit that is the color I tried to dye my hair at the beginning of the epidemic (it didn’t work PS, my hair cannot take dye for the life of it) but also like...he just kinda feels like a weak Rebecca as far as characters go. He’s young, he’s good at cards...I think he goes to a private school? That’s all I can think of about Leon.

He mostly just reminds us that the big prize of this tourney is to duel Yugi, who anyone could have dueled at any point even without the tournament.

On the way out of the...duel room? lounge? Area? Joey decides to like...make peace with Zigfried, and I gotta tell you, I kinda have to side with Zigfried, because Joey spent the last ten minutes being a freak in the dressing room/lounge/bathroom and at one point looked like he was going to hold the entire locker room in a stranglehold.

I would also want some space from Joey Wheeler, is what I’m saying.

After insulting Joey’s style (which honestly, Joey...has a style? He pops his collar, that’s his entire style.) Zigfried assures us that Joey’s gonna lose and like...

...probably, right? Just looking at the plausible direction this season will go.

Anyway, Joey is such a mess (which is the theme of the episode, that Joey needs to learn to chill in order to win at card games) that Rebecca is like “I understand if all of you leave me to go help our poor baby Joey.” And no one felt bad for her.

Mokuba comes over to tell everyone all of the Kaiba family secrets because Mokuba has no filter.

Seto has devoted himself to staring at a computer screen for the rest of this episode. I guess he’ll put their names into Google, realize that social media hasn’t been invented yet, and then just lie his head down on the desk and take a power nap until the tournament is over. Much like I did after taking Dayquil this afternoon.

I like how Seto dressed for success and then locked himself in the server room for most of this arc so far. Maybe he’s just...really tired, I dunno. I don’t really blame the guy, he’s had a hard time.

And then Yugi was like “DAMN IT MOKUBA, JUST ONCE CAN YOU NOT INVITE THE ILLUMINATI???”

And we had a weird scene where Yugi just started talking to the ghost and it was while he was talking to everyone else, and the show didn’t treat it like that’s a weird thing to do...but it was a weird thing to do.

This show does that sometimes, where I guess they imply that Yugi’s Pharaoh conversations are split second conversations but...they’re not, right?

Also this chick ain’t gone yet, and Mokuba is just failing at his entire job for not zeroing in on vibes coming off this chick like stinky cheeseman.

So listen.

Did the Kaibas make like 3 types of Blue Eyes Caboose to one up Noah? Because Noah made one choo choo dragon, and then Mokuba and Seto were like “how dare” and then made sure that everyone ride every single version of the blue eyes caboose just to see how proud of them they were.

How many months of troubleshooting was the train? Like how long in development did Seto and Mokuba spend on these? A lot right? Like most of the time?

I did not check the subs to see if Roland said Jumping or Champion but I like to believe that Roland thought it was a cool new name he gave him.

Then these guys all showed up.

Hey so...can we talk seating arrangements?

Tea decided not to sit next to Yugi after complaining about not spending time with him for like how many episodes? Or was it too awkward to sit on top of what was probably Pharaoh?

Or did Mokuba go like “please, Tea, I cannot sit next to the others because I’m pretty sure one is a mole that is about to go cray” and was Tea like “Good, I need female friends, these ones are driving me crazy!” and then was Mokuba like peering desperately over the edge of his self made dragon train prison realizing he has to listen to Tea complain about boys for the rest of his ride across molten lava?

Headcanons abound about this weird seating arrangement that the animators drew for the reasons they did...but reasons I cannot fully understand. That and the Dayquil is making me overfixate on random stuff.

And also, Tea is kind of the Kaiba’s security’s understudy. Just there to always protect Mokuba with her ass because she’s the strongest woman alive.

PS I missed the tumblr wars because at the time I was trying to like...run a proper business on blogger. When Blogger died and I jumped over here it was like a weird ruin where everyone was like “tumblr is the most toxic place alive” and...I’ve had a really nice time here, actually. Completely missed that civil war period and I have no regrets.

Now I was there for the Petz wars (warz, I guess) where people were very militant about Petz abuse (abuze?) where apparently people were using the spray bottle on their catz too much and people were very, very upset about it to the point that they were like campaigning about it on their angelfire websites with the most bizarre grassroots campaigns that I still recall, to this day because they were like...well they looked like this:

PLAPA. Not only am I 100% positive that only this one guy ever called this movement PLAPA, but I’m 100% positive that not only are Catz not real people, but also this wasn’t actually happening and we never had any proof that it was. Either way, if people knew or suspected that you hadn’t deleted the spray bottle from your game (which at the time I had no idea how to do because I was a wee child) they would basically assume you were on a one way road to being a mass murderer in real life.

In real life we were 7 years old so like...thanks?

But that’s the closest I got to toxicity and at the time I was too young to make an email account and actually converse with these people. I was just there to download their Petz hexes, and I already made a post about how wonderful and incredible Petz Hexing was.

And y’all, I heard, just now after a little deep dive into the Petz Abuse debacle (which yes, is on the wiki), that apparently, like gardening, Petz Hexing came back in a big way during the epidemic--and I have found an active Petz forum in this the year 2021. The only problem is that I no longer remember how to use old timey forums...and I think I’m locked out of seeing most of these threads (and like this forum is so old I think I have to send them a letter in the physical mail to apply). But, I’m pretty sure they’re hosting a picture contest for who’s dogz poses the best. And I’m pretty sure someone created a hexxed Pickle Rick. Or it’s a photoshop that was made to look like a hexxed Pickle Rick.

Dammit why did it have to be Pickle Rick? That’s not worth re-installing Petz and getting it to run on Windows 10...

Guys is this the Dayquil? Is this really happening? I feel like I’m losing my mind for so many reasons...

Anyway, speaking about useless hexing it’s about time that our villain did something that was actually dangerous, so Zigfried decided to install a new virus that does more than turn off the lights. (it still turns off lights)

the Spreadsheet Virus!

Confounded by the spreadsheet software, it...um...it does this:

Straight up how does Excel make a volcano erupt? Is that why I have to pay for Microsoft office now?

All this because Joey made fun of Zigfried’s naturally pink hair? Which is the most normal hair on this series outside of like...Tristan?

Hey guys...Joey’s fine, right? Like how many times has Joey been on fire? And once in an iron cage next to like...a Fire Golem?

Joey’s fine.

MAN I miss Fire Golem. He had a good mug.

And then we just kinda watch chaos go across the park, chaos that includes: Too many ghosts in the haunted mansion (which honestly--you’ll get your money’s worth, sounds great!), the Ferris wheel goes kinda fast and thus might accidentally be fun, the lights turn off at some concert stage that only had 2 people on it (so it might just be motion detector lights and not even a virus), and um...literal fire and magma are going to set Joey Wheeler on fire.

Just...one of these events does not seem like the others. In fact most of these things sound like good improvements to the park and they should just hire Zigfried at this point.

Roland puts down his microphone and jogs across the stage, about a mile through the audience bleachers, and into the staff lounge, to go and bother Seto Kaiba, who is in a room that has a hi-def classical painting copy-pasted on the wall and I can’t look away from it.

I almost did a Google search on this painting but then thought better about it. There’s like...a billion classical paintings that look exactly like this, and they wouldn’t use like a Monet, they would have to do something that’s harder to catch to avoid copyright issues (because yes, even old ass paintings have copyright issues, but no one tell NFT’s which are going to be so freakin screwed and was such a bad idea, that I can’t even start).

Anyway, I have no idea who it is and it is legitimately driving me up a wall, but I’m on too much meds to do the effort of putting it in a reverse google image search.

Plus, a reverse google image search would only pull up Seto Kaiba.

So Kaiba takes us on a little flashback to his weird ass past, a weird ass past that just...doesn’t follow any of the established timelines, but I assume was shortly after adoption but before Seto got into a phase where he wore his school outfit everywhere and tried to shove his MMO off onto his Dad as a business model.

Seto is like 8 for some reason. I don’t know why, they kinda drew him younger this season anyway, like maybe they got a lot of fan mail and realized “Hey I think we made the 16 yo boy too sexy?” And they just toned Seto the hell down. That, and it’s a different animation team, and maybe they looked at Seto’s character design and were like “we don’t get paid enough to draw this well.” So...since Seto actually looks like a teen again, I guess his 12 year old self has to look like he’s in Elementary school.

Also, I only recognized this, because at some point in S3 as I was roasting Noah Kaiba’s weird fashion:

I remember distinctly roasting that little bow tie. I don’t remember when I wrote it, I think there was a version of this outfit that was in color...but I don’t remember where.

Anyway, it’s not the same jacket...but man that’s kind of awkward, ya? Like the maid who dressed Mokuba deffo got fired?

He um.

Turned the lights off a little bit.

Guys this villain is like...

...why does he think lights are scary? Like look at little Seto here. The boy is already bored. Seto duels on the edges of cliffs...he doesn’t care about the freakin dark.

We had a guy who killed everyone on the planet last season, and this season we have a little fashion gremlin standing in the corner and flicking the light switch going “wooooo you never catch me!” and it’s like...

...I’m starting to think this guy isn’t a witch.

Like we’re at Episode 6, there’s still time for this guy to be a witch...but I really am starting to think this guy is just...straight up not a witch. It’s everything Seto wanted, a rival who isn’t a freakin magic person...and sets Joey only fake on fire instead literally on fire like last time...

and Seto is just completely unhinged by it.

Anyway, I’m off to go drink a bowl of soup and pass out. If you’re new here, this is a link to read these in chrono order.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#yugioh #yu gi oh #ygo #S5 #Ep6 #Yugi Muto #Seto Kaiba #Joey Wheeler #Tea Gardner #Tristan Taylor #Mokuba Kaiba #zigfried von schroeder #rebecca hawkins #I talked about catz again #leon #but not the kings of leon guy #I mean he could be

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imaginesfora3 · 5 years ago

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Who Did It First Meme [Ikaruga Misumi]

Who asked who out first?

You asked him. He had been trying to ask you on a date for what appeared to be a long time but you weren’t taking the hint, something that couldn’t be entirely blamed on you as he didn’t quite say the right words in the right order. When you finally decide that you might as well shoot your shot and deal with it if Misumi isn’t into you, you’re pleasantly surprised to see how genuinely excited he gets; it’s when he explains that he really wanted to ask you out but everything you did together seemed more friendly than romantic. Knowing that he wasn’t just imagining the connection between you also makes him happy and he tackles you in a hug, asking you where you’d like to go for your official first date.

Who initiated the first kiss?

Misumi did. It was sudden and quick, seemingly out of nowhere, and had occurred before you’d even began dating officially. You’d just made him the perfect onigiri, larger than a normal one too, as you had some leftover ingredients and you wanted to test your culinary skills. When you presented him with the special present his eyes had sparkled and he’d wrapped his arms around you before you knew it, unable to hold back his feelings anymore as his lips pressed against yours. You both stared at each other stunned for a second before he apologized for potentially upsetting you, with you unable to find the words to say after the man you’d had a crush on for months had kissed you. Thankfully your next ‘first’ kiss with Misumi, one given after you’d started dating, was a lot less surprising but still just as sweet, especially when you got to admire the light blush that adorned his face after he pulled away.

Who said I love you first?

You said it at the same time. Misumi always seemed to surprise you, something you loved about him, and this time was no different. When you finally decided to tell him, that you felt it was right and that he needed to know how deeply ingrained in your heart he was, he apparently felt the same. You both confessed, cutting the other off, though he was a little louder than you. While you got flustered he smiled, telling you he’ll go first before confessing again, waiting patiently for you to gather the courage back (and get your rapidly beating heart under control) before returning his feelings.

Who would have the others picture as their phone background?

You think it’s hilarious that Kazunari made Misumi his own special phone background, which was a photoshopped picture of you and Misumi with colorful triangles in the background. He told you it was his two loves in one photo so of course he’d request Kazu to make it for him, thinking it was absolutely perfect and vowing never to change it.

Who proposes?

Misumi does. He’s not the type to come up with a solid plan so after buying the ring he knew he’d just have to wing it, though he did ask Muku for some help in detecting what the perfect moment is. When he starts to talk to you in his serious, level tone you wonder what’s going on, for a second fearing he might actually be breaking up with you (an explanation for why he was acting so out of character) but your eyes widen in surprise when he kneeled down in front of you and presented a ring, telling you he wanted to spend the rest of his life hunting triangles with you. He panicked a bit as you started to cry but you told him it’s a perfectly normal reaction, saying you’d love to be a triangle hunter with him for the rest of your days.

Who does the dishes?

Misumi tries to be helpful around the house even if his attention span is shorter than you’d ever realized. If you’re doing them with him, talking to him about something or other and engaging him in conversation, things get done in a jiffy. If you leave Misumi with tasks to finish while you’re out he’ll generally get them done but you’ll find he often forgets until the last minute, rushing to clean the rest of the house when you text him you’re heading home. You’ve come home to him sweating and a little red-faced more than once, laughing at the obvious fact he forgot to do what you told before asking if he’d like onigiri for dinner.

Who’s the first to wake up in the morning?

Misumi always seemed to be awake before you were, even when you woke up extra early in the morning; he shrugged it off as he didn’t tend to set an alarm for himself, just waking up when his body wouldn’t let him sleep anymore. There are some mornings where he stays snuggled up in bed beside you despite being awake, tracing shapes in your skin and patiently waiting for you to rise, and others where he gets a jump start on the day, managing to make you some coffee or tea for when you were finally awake.

Who gets to pick the movie type on movie nights?

Misumi has a hard time sitting still for movie nights, so a fun game to play with him is ‘try to find the triangle’ in the scene, which has him diligently paying attention to each frame of the movie. If you let him select the movie you’re always in for a nice surprise as you have almost no idea what his taste is, considering he just grabs the cover that seems the most interesting; some of the movies tend to be very outlandish and bizarre, but not necessarily bad.

Who lavishes the other one in gifts?

Misumi always finds you little gifts when he’s out triangle hunting, eyes glowing if you showed him appreciation for his gifts. It’s not the only thing he gets you, though he prefers to hand make you gifts and cards for special holidays, as there are plenty of things he’ll suddenly see in public that remind him of you. It’s generally an internal struggle whether he should impulsively purchase you something you might already have or might not need but he tends to go for it, showing it off to you excitedly with a bright smile as he tells you it made him think of you (so of course he had to take it home with him).

Who worries more about the other?

Misumi worries a bit about keeping you happy in the relationship knowing his inexperience might make him less aware of problems that could pop up in the future, but you’d told him once before not to worry himself in the ground. You worried about Misumi’s random adventures potentially getting him lost or put in danger, as even with his amazing athletic abilities the world could still be an unfriendly face. You and Misumi both just tend to stay out of trouble so there’s no need for either of you to worry too much about the other, especially since Misumi tended to spend most of his time around you (so you could keep an eye on him).

#Ikaruga Misumi #Misumi Ikaruga #Ikaruga Misumi x Reader #A3 #A3!#Act! Addict! Actors!#A3 x Reader #Misumi Ikaruga x Reader #Who Did It First Meme

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

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Survey #404

“death doesn’t answer when i cried for help”

The person you had the strongest feelings for dies, do you care? I'd be fucking devastated. It wouldn't feel real. Is there something you’re happy about at the moment? A few things. I'm still on that high of my APAP mask working, like I'm actually getting some fucking quality sleep, and I think I'm noticing the effects of my TMS therapy finally, too. My PTSD has most notably been much more bearable, and my interests are beginning to spread again. Do you want someone dead? No. Do you ever wonder what your ex is up to? I mean yeah, I think that's pretty normal, even for someone without my issues. Have you ever fed or taken care of a stray animal? Oh, many times. What is something you tend to worry about? My health and future. What is something you do that is unhealthy? Sit at the computer for way too long. I'm absolutely certain my vision is as poor as it is partially because of me endlessly staring at screens. What is something you do that is good for you? I'm not afraid to prioritize my mental health. What last caused you to force a smile? I was watching a Mark video for the first time in a while and was just reminded of how much I love and appreciate that moron. What was the last video game you played? Was it fun? Because you said "video" game, I guess I'll exclude computer ones, in which case I'm pretty sure it was Silent Hill 2. Given it's one of my all-time favorite games, of course I think it's fun. It's one hell of an emotional ride. What is something not many people know about you? The fact I was a dancer for many years would probably surprise people once they have a good idea of me and what I like. What word describes your basic style? Lazy, honestly. I dress for comfort, and given that's usually just pj pants and a tank top... yeah, I don't put much effort into my clothing when I'm going most places. Have you ever been told you were going to Hell? She kinda beat around the bush, but yes. Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? On more than one occasion. If yes, what convinced you not to go through with it? Well, I did OD once, but on the other occasions, it was the fear of the unknown that deterred me. Have you ever rejected a guy, only to have him push the issue by asking “why?” and insisting that you just need to get to know him better? Omg no, thank god. I would NOT handle that well. Is there something that you believe everyone should do and you can’t believe that some people don’t do it (e.g., recycle or go to the dentist regularly)? I didn't know 'til a survey question asked it that there are people who don't brush their tongue when brushing their teeth. Like holy shit dude, there are SO many germs on your tongue, clean that shit. Regarding the last good choice (healthy choice, kind choice, selfless choice, etc.) you made, what was your real motivation behind it? Ummmm the nearest that comes to mind is I guess taking my meds? I mean I do that every single day, but it's still a healthy choice for me. The motivation was because I am very serious about doing what I can for my mental wellbeing. What is something that you have had to practice at to get the hang of it? If you can’t think of anything, that’s okay, what’s something you are currently practicing at and trying to master? I really can't think of something for the first half of the question, but I can tell you that right now I'm attempting to force a routine of applying a therapy technique called "opposite action" into my daily life, where you, well, do the exact opposite of what your depression tells you to not do. It is WAY harder than it sounds, but I'm doing it with reading 30 minutes a day! Have you ever gone to the store to buy something, like a video game, when it came out at midnight? Not to my recollection, no. Regarding the last novel you read, was there a romance included? If so, was it central to the plot? The last novel I finished, yes. It wasn't central to the plot. Have you ever done relaxation meditations or listened to relaxation guides or positive-thinking/healing recordings? No, except in therapy when different therapists wanted me to experiment with it during a session. They just don't work for me. Do you have any interests that are also often shared by children? Yeah. Those are the one I'm especially self-conscious about. there something that could be a solitary activity but you really only like to do it with other people (e.g., watching movies, playing video games, etc.)? Watching movies or TV. Are you satisfied with the interior design or decoration in your home? Or do you think it needs a total home makeover? A makeover would be nice... Is there something that you’d like to own but you can’t find it anywhere? If not, can you a remember a time when you wanted something? Did you ever end up finding it or did you eventually stop wanting it? OKAY SO I actually have seen this custom-made once long after deciding I wanted it, but it was RIDICULOUSLY expensive. There's a location in the Silent Hill games called Heaven's Night, and I'd love love LOVE to commission someone to duplicate the neon pink sign of it to hang in my room. Hopefully one day I could still do it. Who makes you smile the most? Probably my cat, honestly. What piercings do you want/have? I've talked about the piercings I have, but I'll talk about those I want. My #1 is absolutely collarbone dermals, but as I've explained a billion times, I want to lose weight so the bones are more prominent for the sake of contrast; you can't really see my collarbones now, so I just think it'd look pretty dumb and random to just have random piercings somewhere around there with no dimension. I also want way more in my ears, dermals in my back dimples also once I've lost weight, my right nostril for the dozenth time (but this time I'll wear a hoop), and while I'd absolutely adore an undereye microdermal as well, it'd be pointless with glasses. :/ What's your favorite website? KM is my pride and joy and really feels like my online home, so despite using sites like YouTube more, that 'ole RP site has to be my fave. Do you own a fish tank with fish? No. I had fish bowls (AWFUL idea) as a kid, but never tanks Do you like the movie 300? Never seen it. Do you pop your knuckles? NOOOOOOOOOOO. I absolutely hate the sound. It makes me cringe and shiver. Do you have Photoshop? Yes. It comes in the Adobe CC photography bundle I have. Do you use tinypic or photobucket? I used Photobucket back in the day. Now I just upload to imgur. What’s your favourite song from the 1980s? You're talking to someone who adores classic rock/metal, haha. How about the 1990s? There are way too many songs to choose from. Have you won anything recently? No. How often do you make Excel tables? What for? Never. What was the last baby animal you saw in the wild? There was a poor fawn as roadkill on the highway recently. :/ Are you always available or online? Preeeetty much. Do you have dietary restrictions? Or do you just eat what you like? I can eat whatever. Do you prefer gold, silver or steel jewelry? Or no jewelry at all? Steel. I'm allergic to silver, and I think steel is more subtle than gold. Have you been binge-watching any shows lately? If so, what? No. If you dye your hair, do you do it yourself or go to a salon? I do it at a salon. If you have any, do you like your in-laws? I don’t have any. Would it bother you, if your partner had cut contact with their parents? If they had a good reason, no. Have you ever wondered whether you were adopted? As a kid I did because I thought Mom was meaner to me than my siblings, lol. What’s the best physical feeling in the entire universe? ........... This question is a setup lmfao. Have you ever grown a berry bush? No. Have you done something new to your hair recently? No. It's been the same for quite a while. I wanna dye it badly. Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medication for it? I'm diagnosed with generalized and social anxiety, so yeah. I take Klonopin once and day and Ativan as needed for attacks. One thing you’ve experienced that you thought you never would have? HA, the first thing to come to mind was being noticed by Mark by making a viral (in the community, anyway) gif of he and his doggy. I shit you not, I couldn't sleep for three days lmfao. What was the last thing someone said to you that kept repeating over & over in your head? That I gained fucking seven pounds in two months at my last doctor appointment. I wanted to scream. How often do you have late nights out? Never. I'm a homebody. If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? No. It would absolutely make me less productive. If you had the ability to change the weather, what would you change it to right now? Cool with a nice breeze, mostly clear skies, crisp air... That'd be nice right now. Is there something that you really need to do, but can’t seem to get motivated to do it? I say it all the time: finish decorating my room. It's funny, because I KNOW I'll feel more at home and cozy with my bedroom more personalized. Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? Paranormal Entity. The ending was... a lot. Has a life goal or dream ever come true for you yet? If yes, what is it? If no, do you think you’ll achieve it? Not that I can think of. .-. I hope I can achieve some... Have you ever had food poisoning? No, thank God. What are you listening to? "The Man Who Made a Monster" by Dance With the Dead. Do you think there will be a WWIII? I find it inevitable at some point down humanity's future. People are too hateful for it not to eventually. Has anyone ever asked you if you were emo? Yeah. Has someone ever liked you that you never thought would? Maybe? Idk. In all honesty, can a person be too nice? Yes, in some instances. Has one of your friend’s boyfriends ever tried to cheat on them with you? Yes, when I was around 12. And I let it happen. It's one of my biggest regrets. Is mental abuse really as bad as physical abuse? Of course it is. Emotional abuse can cut just as deep as some physical blows, or even deeper. Do you shop at Sephora for make-up? No. Zelda: Twilight Princess or Ocarina of Time? I'm actually not into TLoZ. Do you own a rosary? I did as a kid growing up in a Catholic Sunday school. If you were homeless, how would you cope? If I had no loved ones in my life and no sign of things getting better, I'm honestly preeetty sure I'd end my life.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''under the graveyard'' by ozzy osbourne

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my-arlington-academia · 5 years ago

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Serandy and Olifael fanfic (SerenaXAndy and OlivierXRafael) part 1

Okay. I did it. I wrote it. But at what cost?

⚠️Warning⚠️ it's a stupid joke fic so read at your own risk. I don't take responsibility for what I've done. Deal with it 😂

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Andy looked at her phone and sighed again for the bazillionth time of the day. She was sitting with Alita in the garden, the young artist wanted to draw flowers. Or more accurately: she absolutely needed to for Mr. Boss's class. The topic this time around was "nature." And Alita wasn't really fond of... drawing grass and trees and whatnot, so she asked Andy to accompany her.

"You're thinking about Serena again, aren't you? When are you going to tell her?"

Andy had a crush on Serena since their first year in Arlington, they were seniors now and yet Andy couldn't gather the courage to confess her feelings.

"What's the point? Serena already has a boyfriend... Wait! How did you know I was thinking about her?!"

Alita gestured towards Andy's phone, the locksreen was a picture of the both of them. Serena and Andy smiling side by side.

"Oh... I see. I've been staring at it this whole time, haven't I?"

"Yup."

Honestly Alita didn't understand why Andy was having this much trouble telling Serena. They were friends for almost 3 years now, Serena wouldn't suddenly cut Andy out of her life just because of something like that. Alita was someone really direct, borderline shameless. Last year she photoshopped a picture of Alistair and... added maybe too much body hair to it, making him look like a werewolf. The picture made the rounds in the athletics department and the poor scholarship boy was completely mortified. It was his first year in Arlington too... When asked why she did this, Alita said: "One of my friends has a body hair kink, thought it would make her happy." To this day we still don't know who that friend is. They decided to remain anonymous so it's a mystery.

"It must be so easy for you Alita, you're not scared of anything."

Alita's hand stopped moving and she looked at Andy from the corner of her eyes. Then she got up from the bench, as if she had something really important to do.

"Well, it's not only about courage. It's also about will. You always say that you're too scared, but really? To me it just sounds like you're making excuses. You're telling yourself that it's okay if you don't tell her because you're not "brave" enough but the truth is that you're running away all the time. It's been almost 3 years now, maybe your resolve is too weak? Are you even certain of your feelings?"

Hearing all of this, Andy's mind was filling up with anger. She stood up, facing Alita.

"Yes, I am sure! Of course I am! It's true that it only started with feelings of admiration but now... now it's different. I love her. However confessing my feelings would be stupid and pointless. Do you even realize what you're saying? What am I supposed to do? Make them have a break-up? Olivier is also my friend, I don't want to be a bother... I'll just wait until..."

Andy looked down, her eyes filling up with tears.

"...Until my feelings go away. It's better this way, I won't lose either of them just because of a crush."

Alita rolled her eyes and gave Andy a tissue from her bag.

"Alright, alright... I'm sorry Andy, don't cry okay? But realistically speaking, I think that you would never lose them because of something like this. I mean, it's not like you can control your feelings. Also..."

Alita looked down at her watch, a feeling of excitement struck her as she saw the time.

"...I have to go! The last episode of that anime I told you about is airing today and I'll finally be able to binge-watch it!"

"Ah... The one from studio Tricker?"

"Yeah, that one! I've been waiting 3 months for all the episodes to air, can you imagine?! Wish it worked like Netflex where they drop all the episodes at the same time instead of once per week... Anyway! Thank you for accompanying me today! Byeeeeee!!!"

Andy stood there in the middle of countless flowers, watching Alita run towards the dorms. Maybe she was right after all? Maybe Andy was worried for nothing.

[At the same time in another place.]

Finn blinked a few times, dumbfounded by what he just heard.

"Come again?"

Rafael gulped.

"I... I like Olivier... I think."

Finn looked back at his computer and kept on editing a video he's been working on for a while now.

"Huh. Didn't see that coming. Well uh, good luck? I mean, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say here. Olivier already has a girlfriend, right?"

Rafael hung his head low and sighed in despair.

"Well that's the thing. What am I supposed to do? Bury my feelings? Last year I had a crush on Andy and now it's Olivier... I always develop feelings for my best friends."

Finn furrowed his eyebrows in worry. Then he sympathetically looked at Ralf, trying to be reassuring.

"But you know, I think that catching feelings for friends is better than falling for people you're not close with. At least you know your friends well enough and you know what you're getting into if you start dating them... But uh. Yeah. Sounds like it kinda sucks to be you right now."

"Yeah, no kidding..."

Last year Rafael tried to confess his feelings for Andy but right before he could, she admitted that she had a crush on Serena... Little did Ralf now that next year he'll fall for Serena's boyfriend.

"By the way, I'm a little curious: why do you like him? I mean, Olivier is cool and all but he's also kind of cold, isn't he?"

Rafael raised his head in utter disbelief.

"What?! I think you have the wrong idea, it is true that he can be intimidating when he's working but deep down he's a really good guy. And he's funny too!"

Finn looked like he just heard the most confusing thing in the world. Olivier? Funny? That's 2 words that should never be in the same sentence. But Finn shrugged anyway and got back to business.

"Hm. Alright, whatever floats your boat I guess..."

[Somewhere else at the same time.]

"YOU WHAT?!"

Ariel practically screamed at the top of her lungs while Serena was trying her hardest to stay composed.

"Calm down, okay? Yeah, I'm gonna break-up with Olivier today. I can't bear it anymore."

Ariel looked like she ascended to a new state of bewilderment each time Serena opened her mouth.

"You can't bear Olivier anymore? But... but...?? I don't?? Understand?? You guys always get along. Better than that, you guys are the power couple of Arlington!"

"No, you don't get it. What I can't bear anymore isn't Olivier, it's my feelings for Andy. She's too beautiful and perfect to be single. Everyone around her is so blind and I have to change that."

"...Wait a sec, I think I need to sit down."

Ariel sat down.

"Ariel, we're in the middle of a hallway."

"I don't think you understand how much I don't give a shit about that right now..."

Ariel wasn't wrong, Olivier and Serena were seen as "rELaTiOnShIp GoALs" by the whole school. And if not by the whole school then *almost* by the whole school. Serena had to think long and hard to make this decision, they had an image to uphold after all. But was it worth it? Right now, Andy was more important to Serena than anything else. Olivier was a good guy definitely, but he was also kinda weird. He always wears a cat mask with galaxy sunglasses for some reason. And he doesn't respect the Arlington dress code even though he used to be the student body president before Tadashi. He wears a black suit and a black tie, because of that a bunch of students jokingly call him the "space cat businessman." Maybe this strange appearance is a weird way for him to rebel against the whole school for not voting for him in the elections.

"Serena, why did you tell me this? What good is there in sharing that with me?"

Serena bends down to match Ariel's height and displays a sad smile on her face.

"Because I'll need your emotional support if something goes wrong."

At those words, Ariel stood up and brushed her butt with her hands to clean off the dust.

"Gotcha. I'll do my best... I'll go find a good show to binge-watch on Netflex and some delicious ice cream just in case you get a heartbreak if Andy rejects you after you dump Olivier."

Serena cringed.

"You didn't need to put it that way... But thanks, I guess."

[In another hallway at the same time.]

Today Olivier had two things to do. One, garner some info about a missing student: Nari. And two: break-up with Serena. His feelings for Rafael had grown to be too strong. He thought that he could get past them but he was wrong. He couldn't ignore them anymore. The cute coder from the pure and applied sciences department had caught his heart. Anyway, before that he had to get past step one: gather info about the disappearance of Nari. Olivier was making rounds in the school, trying to find the people who knew Nari. Or at least had heard something.

The first person Olivier talked to was Layelle... as she was carrying some weird materials to the dorms.

"What is this for? You're not about to do something dangerous, are you?"

Layelle's eyes widened in surprise but a couple of seconds later she laughed at Olivier's seriousness.

"Geez, don't worry ex-president. It's just for my skincare routine, I'm about to go help Tyler with his too."

Honestly, Olivier didn't really understand the use of a skincare routine since he always wore a mask anyway. Besides that though, this wasn't the reason why he stopped her.

"Okay, whatever. Layelle, you know who Nari is right? Have you heard of her recently?"

Layelle's gaze dropped down on the floor, Nari was one her classmates but she had suddenly disappeared a couple of months ago.

"Well, no. Unfortunately I don't think that I can help you. She was a real chatterbox so even if I wasn't in her friend group I heard a lot about her. We got along but we were mostly acquaintances rather than close friends. Sorry."

"No, no problem. Thank you for your time."

Layelle looked at the clock on the wall and gasped. Thankfully, there's clocks everywhere in Arlington so it's hard to lose one's sense of time but it's still possible.

"Shoot! I have to hurry and meet Tyler! Also, I have a birth chart reading livestream afterwards so uh. Bye Olivier!"

After this encounter, Olivier then checked all classrooms and found Daisy sitting on a table with a laptop.

"Hey, you know that you can't do that, right?"

Daisy didn't even bother looking up from her PC and answered.

"You do know that you're not the president anymore, right? No need to check up on us and boss us around."

Someone who doesn't know Daisy might think that she was trying to be witty, but thankfully Olivier knew that she was mostly teasing him. Well... it is true that he was still a little sensitive about the fact that he got his place stolen from him by someone younger and less experienced.

"Okay... Thank you for the warm greeting Daisy, as always. In any case, have you heard of Nari recently?"

This time around, Daisy looked up.

"Oh... well, not really. All I know is that she had some urgent stuff to take care of so she hasn't been coming to school for the past few months but I don't know the details."

Olivier nodded and curiously peeked at the screen of Daisy's laptop.

"Vine compilations."

"Huh?"

"I'm making vine compilations. And please don't tell me that it's a waste of my time, I already know you're thinking that really hard so no need to say it."

"Oh... Okay."

If Serena was there she would say "well, at least it's not TikTak compilations" and she's not wrong. Olivier internally laughed at the thought and kept on searching the school. The next person he came across is Reckless. She was talking with a student while shuffling some cards.

"Reckless, do you have a moment?"

"Uhh... as you can see I'm about to do a tarot reading for this lovely customer here but I haven't started... yet. So make it quick if possible."

Tarot cards? Olivier didn't really believe in that kind of thing, it also annoyed him that everytime he said he doesn't believe in astrology and tarot readings people would always say: "Oh, makes sense. You're a sun virgo haha." But anyway, that's not the point here.

"Have you heard anything about Nari? We haven't been able to contact her for a couple of weeks now. And when I say 'we' I mean the whole school."

"Ah, Nari huh? Well I've certainly heard of her but I've never met her. I don't think I can help, sorry... Oh! But if you want to I can do a tarot reading to see how she's doing! It will only cost you-"

"Okay. Cool. Thanks. And no thank you, I've only done tarot readings when Serena forced me to."

Olivier walked away instantly and he quickly found his next target: Trashy. Like Layelle she was carrying some... questionable objects.

"Is this for a skincare routine?"

"AAH!"

Trashy screamed. To be honest she was really scared of Olivier, since he was student body president before Tadashi, Trashy got herself in a lot of trouble because of her chaotic nature.

"Huh?! Uh. Well... Um..."

Trashy looked down at what she was carrying: 2 bottles of cola, one pack of mentos, some gasoline and fireworks.

"O-oh! Yeah! Skincare routine, totally! Gotta help Layelle y'know?"

Olivier harshly looked down at Trashy.

"I was kidding, it's obvious that it's not for some skincare routine. I'm not dumb Trashy. If you pull off again what you did last year I swear to god-"

"Eek! A-alright! I know it looks suspicious but I'm not gonna do anything dangerous with it, I promise! It's for research and science purposes."

Olivier still didn't believe her but decided to let it go... for now.

"Well, I'm not here to scold you so calm down okay? I wanted to ask you: do you know anything about Nari? Have you been in contact with her recently?"

Trashy tried her best to calm down but her arms were trembling under all the weight she was carrying.

"From what I know Nari has left the country. She had to fly back to Egypt for some important business but no one knows when she'll come back, so um..."

Trashy's legs started trembling too.

"C-can I go now? Please...?"

Olivier nodded and Trashy ran away from him. She was scared out of her mind of Olivier. She found him to be ruthless and terrifying... despite the fact that he was wearing a cute cat mask at all times. She couldn't even see his face so how was she supposed to know what he's thinking or in what kind of mood he is?? Thankfully she made it out alive of this one. Any person who saw her would assume that she's about to commit arson.

After that, Olivier kept on searching for more info. As he reached the entrance of the building again, ready to make another round, he saw an unusual scene: Huli and Irwins pulling on Tegan's arms.

"I like him better!"

"No way! I'm slav like Tegan so I like him better than you!"

"What does being slav have anything to do with liking someone?!"

Irwins laughed like a cartoon villain.

"Well, since you're not slav I don't expect you to understand!"

Tegan was blushing really hard and looked like he was about to die from being pulled that hard from both sides. Olivier was about to help him but Tadashi ran to the rescue faster. Thankfully he was able to resolve it all. Somehow the whole thing ended with Huli and Irwins apologizing to eachother and saying that they love eachother. They started... dating? Then a student named Lissie appeared out of nowhere and hugged the both of them. It seems like they're all in a polygamous relationship? It was so confusing. In any case, Olivier kept on going and going until he saw a girl dressed in a pom pom girl outfit. Oh... it was Hollen. Capitain of the Alistair fanclub... She was watching him from afar, admiring him while drooling. You could hear her creepily mutter: "Muscles... hehehe..." Hollen isn't a bad person but when it comes to Alistair... Oh boy is she thirsty. Olivier tried his best to turn a blind eye to the scene and kept going. Later on he came across Forest, she had her camera on and was talking to it quite enthusiastically.

"Hey guys! I got a permission from Lady A to film the inside of the school! Of course, there are some places that will be off-limits but I'll be able to show you guys a big chunk of Arlington! And-"

Forest caught Olivier staring almost immediately and pointed the camera towards him. Oh no.

"Hey Olivier! This here is the famous ex-student body president of Arlington! Say hi!"

"I don't want to appear on ViewTube, cut that part out entirely. Wouldn't it be better to go back to doing playthroughs instead of silly vlogs?"

"Geez alright. You don't gotta be so cold..."

Forest was the most famous Viewtuber in Arlington, there was a few other students who were trying to make it big but they couldn't get close to Forest's subscriber count. She was from an ordinary family but thanks to all the money she made with Viewtube, she was able to get enrolled as a regular student would: without the need of a scholarship.

#sweet elite #se #fanfiction #fanfics #serandy #olifael #I'll reblog this with part 2

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harlot-of-oblivion · 4 years ago

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🤠OC Questionnaire: Beretta🤠

a.k.a. Cowgirl Vampire Reader from the Tales of Miss Fortune series

Full name

Blythe Bale

Preferred name/nickname

Beretta

Generally referred to as

BB, Miss Fortune

Appearance

FACECLAIM: Here’s a portrait I made using Artbreeder:

(but @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate photoshopped her green eye!)

SEX: Female.

HEIGHT: 5’7

WEIGHT: A little hefty due to all the muscle.

BUILD: Toned and muscular thanks to years of fighting wars and winning battles.

HAIR: Long, course, and auburn brown. Her hair comes down past her shoulders. She usually wears it down but sometimes has it in a loose braid with her ever present gambler hat on her head.

SKIN: Brown. Smooth and hard but cool to the touch ever since her Embrace.

EYES: She has heterochromia iridis: her left is russet brown while her right eye is forest green. They always seem to sparkle with mischief and her green eye, also known as her “evil eye”, glows whenever the Beast stirs inside her. Short black eyelashes.

MOUTH: Small mouth with plump lips. Slightly crooked teeth that are perfectly white teeth with very prominent canines that can retract when not feeding.

NOSE: Small and rounded with a wide bridge and small nostrils.

HANDS: Small hands with medium nails that can extend into razor sharp claws at will. They used to be rough with callouses before her Embrace, but now they’re incredibly smooth and just a little soft.

FEET: Small with wide insoles and short toes. She doesn’t trim her toenails since they’ll just grow back the next night.

SCARS: She had a scar across her nose when she was alive, but it quickly healed and faded away after her Embrace.

CLOTHES: Her entire wardrobe just screams cowgirl: boot cut jeans, tons of Western style shirts, large belt buckle, long leather jackets, and a few gambler hats.

OTHER FEATURES: She has vampiric fangs and just an overall air of otherworldliness that everyone notices on a subconscious level.

OTHER NOTABLE FEATURES: To be determined.

Speech

VOICECLAIM: To be determined.

ACCENT: She speaks with a very thick Southern drawl.

VERBAL TICS: She has a tendency to use “tsk” a lot when she’s annoyed.

LANGUAGE: She’s fluent in English, Spanish, Gaelic, French, German, Russian, Japanese, and Vietnamese along with some dead languages her Dame taught her.

ARTICULATION: She’s not the most eloquent when it comes to explaining things clearly, and she tends to go on storytelling tangents sometimes.

EDUCATION: She doesn’t use any long and fancy words since it’s more fun to cram a lot of words when she’s running her mouth off.

LAUGHTER: She has two types of laughter: joyful howling and malicious cackling. Her joyful laugh is loud and proud; it’s what you’re most likely to hear if you stay on her good side. Her malicious cackling sounds like death itself; only those who’ve earned her scorn hear its chilling timbre.

GRUMP: Not very often except for when she’s annoyed, letting out a few agitated hisses when she’s hungry.

BREATHING: She’ll let out the occasional humph and tends to sniff the air whenever she’s tracking by scent despite not needing to breathe.

Mannerisms

FACE: She has a very expressive face but knows how to hide her true feelings behind a disarming grin.

HANDS: She gestures a lot with her hands, especially when she’s welding guns since that always catches people off guard.

LEGS/FEET: She taps her feet and jiggles her leg as if she’s listening to some long forgotten song in her head.

EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: She’s prone to emotional outbursts whenever she’s on the verge of hunger or enters a fear frenzy. Lots of hissing, growling, and deathly screeching whenever this happens. But she also yips, yells, and yowls along with whatever mood strikes her at that moment.

HABITS: She randomly bursts into song whenever the mood strikes her, and she fiddles with her guns and whittling knife when she’s occupied with her thoughts. She also tips her hat a lot whenever she introduces herself or just as a general gesture of good will.

POSTURE: She tends to slump over a bit while standing, but she'll stand straight and steady whenever she’s shooting her guns.

WALKING POSTURE: She has a very distinctive swagger to her step that exudes casual confidence.

SITTING POSTURE: She crosses her legs and slouches in her seat.

PERSONAL SPACE: She doesn’t have much of a personal bubble, but has no problem letting someone know they’re not welcome within her space. She respects other people’s personal spaces, but has no problems getting into someone’s face when threatened.

SPACIAL AWARENESS: Her keen vampiric senses pick up even the most miniscule details, so she’s rarely taken by surprise.

OTHER: She likes to share very old Western sayings whenever the mood strikes her.

Health

DIET: Blood...mostly human blood, but she’s acquired a taste for demonic hybrid blood recently. She refuses to drink blood from the elderly, children, mages, and abhorrent mortals.

SLEEP: She doesn’t really sleep anymore...more like falling into a state of repose before the first crack of dawn. And she simply animates as soon as the sun dips below the horizon. She doesn’t have dreams while in this state per se; memories of past death and misfortune flash before her eyes repeatedly in the form of dreams.

EXERCISE: Not much since her muscles will never develop further than what they were when she died. And she can just buff herself with her blood if she needs a boost in strength and speed.

ACTIVITY: She’s a hard worker but tends to laze around until the very last second before getting to work. She only pushes herself past exhaustion if the task is of great importance.

CLEANLINESS: She bathes regularly, especially after certain bloody activities. She prefers a quick shower over soaking in the bath.

ODOUR: She faintly smells of leather, desert rose, and freshly dug earth.

MEDICINAL DRUGS: No.

NARCOTICS: No.

ADDICTIONS: Besides blood and death? No.

ILLNESS: Besides being a vampire? No.

INJURIES: No.

PARASITES: No.

OTHER: She must have blood every day or else risk succumbing to a hunger frenzy. In this state, she doesn’t care about keeping a low profile and she’ll feed without much thought about anyone’s safety. The only way to bring her out of this state is either waiting it out until she’s well fed, knocking her unconscious, or bestowing Final Death.

Personal

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT: Oh she’s an extrovert through and through! She doesn’t go out of her way to go unnoticed unlike most of her kind; the cowboy boots and gambler hat stay on no matter what! Loud and proud is her personal motto and anyone nearby will hear and see that for themselves.

OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: She’s a little bit of both; she always hopes for the best but knows that misfortune rears its ugly from time to time.

GENDER: Female.

SEXUALITY: She’s attracted to both men and women so long as they’re outgoing and have a good sense of humor. She prefers women more often than not but she’s had a few relationships with men in the past. And she’s not adverse to other supernatural beings even if it’s taboo within vampire society. She despises anyone who uses magic to manipulate others and will most likely dispose of them before they inflict even more suffering upon the world.

ROMANTIC: She’s not one for romance but won’t shy away from it either. And she enjoys romantic gestures though she’d never admit it out loud. She was married once before when she was alive but doesn’t plan on remarrying in her new life...and more children are off the table since she’s clinically dead.

MEMORY: She has a pretty good and very accurate memory, but the memories of her mortal life are starting to get a little fuzzy.

PLANNING: She’s more of a “act now, think later” kind of gal.

PENSIVE: She pretends to not brood over the past, but she’s guilty of reminiscing over old trials and tribulations that lead her to live such a dark life.

INTUITION: She’s honed her intuition over the years but it’s eerily accurate when death and misfortune are involved.

PROBLEM SOLVING: If they can be solved by shooting them to death then sure! But she’s not above asking for help if that doesn’t work.

GOALS: Her main goal in life is following death wherever it takes her and ridding the world of mages, witches, warlocks, and all other wielders of magic. Her short term goals are taking it easy in between and finding more customizations for her guns, Misery and Woe.

INSECURITIES: She doesn't have many insecurities...constantly being the bearer of misfortune takes a toll on her sometimes. But she hides it very well under her mischievous smirks and rowdy posturing. She rarely reveals her true nature unless forced since most mortals do not take very kindly to vampires.

ACHIEVEMENTS: She’s proud of her outlaw exploits as Miss Fortune and being well traveled even if it’s because her curse demands to dwell near copious amounts of death.

ANXIETY: Any notion of anyone figuring out her true nature. Fire and holy places make her really anxious. She’s also not fond of seeing children in distress.

OVERWHELMED: Not feeding enough causes a lot of stress.

SELF-HELP: She doesn’t until it becomes a nuisance. Then, she just tries to deal with it as quickly as possible.

COMFORTS: Hanging out at a bar with good music will always make her happy...even better with the right company to keep her entertained. She also likes to whittle whenever she needs peace and quiet.

BAD HABITS: Her constant paranoia is kind of like a bad habit.

PHILOSOPHY: She abandoned all her previous beliefs after her death, but she wasn’t really religious to begin with. She does pay proper respect to the Dark Mother of all Lillum whenever possible though.

TRIGGERS: Fire and terrified screams of children.

The Past

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: She had a very good relationship with her parents growing up; still has fond memories of helping her Ma with the chores and tending the horses with her Pa. Her relationship with the woman who Embraced her is not as warm though; very austere and aloof but she does show her caring side on rare occasions.

SCHOOL: She was homeschooled at her father’s ranch and she was a very bright kid.

ADOLESCENCE: It was difficult since her mother died before she could teach her about the changes in her body. And her father tried his best but he usually just let her figure it out on her own.

LEAVING HOME: She didn’t leave home until her father’s death. It was heartbreaking since she had to sell the ranch in order to provide for her daughter.

FURTHER EDUCATION: A higher education wasn’t available due to her social status, but she definitely broadened her horizons soon after her death.

FIRST JOB: Her first job was cooking and cleaning at local inns and bars. It wasn’t the best job nor was it as rewarding as her work on the ranch, but it paid for the roof over her head and food on her table while raising her daughter.

LIFE EVENTS: The birth of her daughter was one of the happiest moments of her life. She was forcefully recruited as a spy by a mage, which led to her eventual Embrace as a vampire. And being drawn to the Russian Revolution led to saving and Embracing a young woman.

WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: Her daughter was on the brink of death due to the meddling of a mage.

BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: She made a blood bond with her rowdy cowboy.

LESSONS: Those who wield magic bring nothing but trouble and should be dealt with immediately. Sometimes you get and sometimes you get got. If it doesn’t seem worth the effort then it probably isn’t.

LOOKING BACK: If she could replay her life and do something different, she would try her damnedest to keep her father’s ranch and raise her daughter in peace away from another man’s war.

Relationships

FAMILY: The only family she had growing up was her Ma and Pa. They made a living for themselves on her father’s ranch raising horses and tending to their own modest farm. She would’ve been an older sister but her mother and baby brother both died during childbirth.

Her Dame, the woman who Embraced her, is more like a strict tutor than a mother but that suits her fine. She’s much closer with her older “sister” and they traveled together often until going their separate ways. And she’s also close with her own “daughter” even though they bicker a lot about the dumbest things.

FRIENDSHIPS: It’s hard for her to keep many friends since she travels a lot but she doesn’t mind the occasional company from time to time. Anyone who doesn’t take life too seriously and can let loose is okay in her books. She can’t call anyone who falls under one of the codes of her clan a friend.

FRIENDS IN NEED: She lends them an ear every now and then but she usually distracts them with a good time drinking at the closet bar. She’ll sometimes offer some strange old sayings that sound like sage advice but otherwise will just let them vent before encouraging them to just drop their worries at the door while they drink their worries away.

NEEDING A FRIEND: She tends to deal with her problems on her own since she doesn’t have any close friends to confide in. The few friends she has made do worry about her often though but her carefree attitude convinces them to not pry into her private affairs.

ANNOYANCES: She usually deflects from arguments and disagreements with loud and rowdy humor.

ROMANCE: She lays it on thick with the flirting until one of them makes the first move. She looks for someone with good looks and wicked sense of humor...bonus if they tell great tales about their crazy exploits.

MARITAL PROBLEMS: She tried to be open about any problems with her lover but sometimes the old habit of deflecting with humor crops up. But a good ol’ fashioned fight (depends on her mood if it's verbal or physical) or a few rounds in the bedroom usually loosens her tongue.

ADVERSARIES: Anyone who takes themselves way too seriously.

ENEMIES: Anyone who embodies the very reason why her clan exists is instantly her enemy by default.

STRANGERS: She’s respectful enough to strangers but has no problem telling them to back off if they step on her toes too much.

FUN STUFF: She likes to hangout at bars even though she can’t drink anymore. She also likes to go horseback riding in the middle of the night but doesn’t mind joyriding on a motorcycle either.

DATING: It doesn’t matter what they’re doing so long as she’s with her lover. She still likes to be wined and dined too...just in a more vampiric sense now.

BEST FRIEND: Her crow could be counted as her best friend...mostly because she doesn’t have any real friends.

LOVE: Dante, the Legendary Devil Hunter who somehow wrangled her undead heart.

WORST ENEMY: There currently isn’t anyone who she considers her worst enemy...yet.

RESPECT: Depends on the person. She had no respect for anyone who breaks the codes of her clan and shows no mercy when dealing with them.

Interactions

MINGLING: She’s quite the mingler and gets along well with others.

COMFORT LEVELS: She’s great at striking up random conversations among strangers and friends. And she has no problem shooing them away with a harsh glare if they make her uncomfortable.

PHYSICAL: She can be a little touchy-feely from time to time, usually in the form of pats on the back or shoulder. She only shares hugs with people she sees as a good friend.

GROUPS: She’s comfortable hanging out in a big group since there’s a greater chance for some rowdy fun.

OPENNESS: She’s open to an extent...she won’t talk about anything personal with others unless they prove to be trustworthy.

GENEROSITY: She usually makes her gifts and only buys treats if she couldn’t find a good piece of wood for whittling. She’d only lend money to a friend if she trusts them to not waste it. And she gets excited when someone buys gifts for her but it always comes with a reminder that they really don’t have to waste their hard earned money on a lazy bitch like her.

JEALOUSY: She’s usually not the jealous type but her dark nature rears its head and sometimes...and a jealous vampire is very dangerous. She usually deals with it by just plain ignoring it while going for a ride in the night.

TEMPER: She can be patient up to a point before getting worked up when it starts to grate on her nerves.

EMPATHY: She’s able to empathize with another person’s feelings since some of her vampiric abilities allows her to read their emotional state.

AFFECTION: She shows affection by giving one of whittled woodworks with all the charming compliments. She also likes to snuggle and nuzzle their neck with a soft purr if they're really close.

DISTASTE: She’ll outright tell someone she dislikes them to their face. She’s been known to stare at them while using her Evil Eye if she REALLY doesn’t like them.

ETIQUETTE: She can be very polite in social situations so long as everyone else plays nice, but she has no problem being rude if someone insults her.

RESPONSIBILITY: She’ll begrudgingly admit when she’s wrong and will try to correct it to the best of her abilities.

SELF ESTEEM: She sticks up for herself no matter who’s giving her a hard time. Her Dame taught her to never appear weak in the eyes of men since they always seek to tear down strong women.

CONFIDENCE: She doesn’t give a damn what others think of her.

HONESTY: She always speaks her mind honestly even if it might upset someone.

LEADER OR FOLLOWER: She’s more of a lone wanderer but has no problem slipping into either roll when the situation calls for it

PARTY TRICKS: She’s real quick with her guns, loves to whittle wood into a work of art in no time flat, and she can also sing surprisingly well.

PRAISE: She loves receiving compliments.

FAILURES: Her lazy and laid back attitude as well as her boisterous hollering can be a tad annoying to some people.

CRITICISM: She can take criticism so long as it’s helpful with just a little bit of back talk.

INSULTS: It depends on who’s insulting her. She usually just laughs it off before biting back with some of her own insults with her venomous stare.

EMBARRASSMENT: She’s not easily embarrassed but if it does happen, she’ll straight up hide her face with the brim of her gambler hat before making a quick exit.

FLIRTING: She can be real flirty for two reasons: scoring a meal or genuine attraction.

ATTENTION SPAN: She has great concentration and can hold it for an exorbitant amount of time so long as she’s fed beforehand.

SITUATIONS: Some of her vampiric abilities can deal with difficult social situations, but she’d rather just talk it out if possible.

Life

CAREER: She's a wandering mercenary who specializes in neutralizing mages and witches. It’s a well paying job with high risks but she derives joy from it.

PROMOTION: She’s quite happy with her current position.

BOSS: She’s her own boss.

DUTY: She’s a specialized tracker who shoots down bitches.

TECH: She’s adequate at using modern technology but prefers to not rely on it too much.

POLITICS: Not very political unless a mage is involved...then she’ll fucking kill them.

COMBAT SKILLS: She’s an expert with firearms and is very experienced with fighting hand to hand.

HOME: She doesn’t stay in one place for too long, so she really doesn’t have a home.

DAILY LIFE: She goes through her day-to-day tasks with her usually laid back attitude. Going out and doing a couple of jobs helps her relieve some stress.

INDEPENDENCE: Very independent since striking out on her own after selling her father’s ranch.

COOKING: She was a decent cook when she was alive but she hasn’t tried cooking after her death since all food tastes like ashes now. She does have a keen palate for blood though and can tell you all the complex notes hidden within.

BUILDING: She’s great putting together furniture, mending clothes, and just all around basic DIY.

CLEANING: She really doesn’t have a place she calls home, but she would be terrible at keeping up chores if she did.

SHOPPING: She’s not one for shopping sprees, only going to the store when it’s absolutely necessary.

DRIVING: She can drive if she has too but prefers riding on horseback instead.

FINANCES: She’s financially stable but doesn’t trust banks to keep her well earned funds safe. And she doesn’t really have to worry about paying bills since she has no home.

MARRIAGE: She was married a long time ago for a short time but now she’s single, and she doesn’t plan on getting married again.

KIDS: She had one daughter when she was alive.

PETS: She has a crow named Catha. She also tries to get a horse whenever she’s outside city limits.

DEPENDANTS: She has a vampiric daughter but she’s old enough to be out on her own.

LAW: Oooooh yes, she’s broken a lot of laws during her time as cowgirl and still continues to do so for various reasons.

COURT: She’s never been to court.

PRISON: She’s broken into prison a few times to free some friends but she’s never been an inmate herself.

TRAVELLING: She’s very well traveled but every day is a holiday to her.

MEDICAL: She doesn’t need conventional medical attention anymore thanks to her vampiric nature.

ILLNESS: She has PTSD and suffers from bouts of paranoia.

WORRIES: She worries about her daughter from time to time.

PEACE: She doesn’t mind peace and quiet when she’s in the mood but she prefers the hustle and bustle of people and great music over straight up silence.

PARTYING: She can never say no to a lively party!

HOBBIES: She likes to whittle wood into intricate pieces of art, usually in the form of lil statues and knick knacks.

#beretta #cowgirl vampire reader #OC questionnaire #Tales of Miss Fortune #YEEHAW! 🌹🤠🌹#harlot writes #harlot speaks

9 notes · View notes

scumbagg · 5 years ago

Text

Clemens Point

Ruby x Charles, Death Squad and VDL.

Warnings: the F word, injury.

Thanks once again to the writing queen @verai-marcel and the photoshop queen @theunholyoutlaw for the Ruby & Charles pic ❤❤

“Mr Smith, the stew is ready if you’d like to grab a bowl.”

“Thank you, Ms Grimshaw.”

“Anything new?”

“No, she hasn’t woken yet. I’ll find you when she does.”

Ruby stirs at the voices close by. She opens her eyes to blinding light and looks around, realising she’s laying in a cot inside a covered tent. More voices can be heard outside, and somewhere nearby a dog barks as a child laughs.

Ruby looks around and sees Charles Smith sitting in a chair by the entrance to the tent. He’s facing away from her, watching the back of an old woman walk away. Ruby tries to sit up, and immediately regrets it; the pain coming from her left ribcage is unbearable and she groans in agony, flopping back down on the bed. Gasping, she rips the covers from her to look down at her side. The left side of her abdomen is covered with bandages. She’s about to rip the bandage off when two big strong hands grab her wrists and pin them down to her sides.

“You… probably don’t wanna do that.” Ruby looks up into a pair of warm brown eyes. Charles is still holding her wrists down, but loosens his grip when she stops struggling. “Glad to see you’re awake and lively, though.” He chuckles at her frustration.

“Where am I and how did I get here?” Ruby looks around once more. She can smell water nearby, but it doesn’t smell like the river or the swamps.

“Clemens Point, just west of Rhodes.” Charles answers simply. “Arthur and I brought you back here after one of those men shot you,” he says, nodding at her bandaged ribcage. “The bullet went straight through, luckily.”

“Why’d you have to get involved?” Ruby demands. “I had it covered! I could’ve handled it myself… without getting injured.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But you definitely would’ve caused some damage, and I think you’d rather not set your business on fire along with half the town.” Charles frowns. “You thirsty?” He asks suddenly.

Ruby realises her throat feels dryer than New Austin, and nods. Charles immediately gets up and heads out of the tent. Ruby watches him leave, frowning at his back. “She’s awake.” She hears him tell someone out of view.

Footsteps approach hurriedly, and Stevie and Kira come into view. Ruby gasps.

“Stevie? Kira? What are you two doing here?”

“I was on guard duty when Arthur and Charles brought you in,” Kira answers. “This is the Van Der Linde Gang.”

It’s as if a light flicks on in Ruby’s brain. “Oh! Of course! Javier and John were in the saloon the day the Lemoyne Raiders shot the place up trying to get to me. I didn’t realise it was them, though. I only heard him,” she nods in Charles’ direction, “shouting their names. Which also makes sense as to why you’re here.” She smirks at Stevie.

Stevie smiles slyly. “Yes, I was here for John, obviously. Kira came and got me as soon as you arrived here yesterday. But speaking of him-” She also nods her head towards the tent flaps. “He hasn’t left-”

“Wait-” Ruby cuts her off. “Did you say I arrived here yesterday?! I’ve been out of it for a whole day?!”

“Well…” Kira pulls out her gold pocket watch. “A day and a half, actually. You were bleeding pretty badly when they brought you back. Some of the gang members fixed you up, and you’d do well to leave that bandage on.” She adds, watching Ruby’s hand subconsciously move to her bandaged ribcage.

“Hey,” Stevie asks suddenly. “You thirsty?”

Ruby frowns. “Why do people keep asking me that? And yes I am, but Mr Smith went to get me something, I think..” She trails off, looking out the tent past Stevie and Kira.

The two women by the bed exchange a look that doesn’t go unnoticed by Ruby.

“What is it?” She demands.

“I’m surprised he left you,” Stevie smirks. “This is the longest he’s been away from your side since you arrived.”

Ruby narrows her eyes. “You make that sound like a good thing.”

“Actually, Ruby,” Kira quips. “It ain’t a bad thing.” She looks at Ruby warmly. “I haven’t spent much time around him, but Charles seems like a pretty decent guy. He pulls more than his fair share around camp, and Arthur seems to trust him, so I do too. Sometimes I trust Arthur’s judgement more than Javier’s.” She rolls her eyes.

“Yes,” adds Stevie. “I’ve only ever heard good things from John about him, and John don’t like just anybody.”

Ruby sighs. The movement of her ribcage expanding sends shooting pains across her whole abdomen and her face contorts in a pained grimace. Kira and Stevie immediately move over her, Stevie pinning Ruby’s arms back as her hands make their way to her wound once more.

“Fucking Lemoyne Raiders,” Ruby gasps, attempting to get up. “I’m going to fucking.. kill.. every last one of them.”

“Not in this state, you’re not,” says Kira firmly, pushing Ruby back down onto the bed. Even in her weak state, Ruby is unsurprised at Kira’s strength; as petite as she was, Ruby had seen Kira throw grown men to the ground before.

Ruby groans defeatedly. “Wait ‘til I find those bastards’ location,” she growls. “There’ll be no such thing as the Lemoyne Raiders once I’m finished with them.”

“And we’ll be right there with you,” says Stevie. “But for now, you need to get your strength back.”

Ruby looks up at her two friends, trying to find the words to thank them, but at that moment Charles re-enters the tent holding a bowl of stew and a bottle of beer.

“So, all I could find was beer, but I did bring you some stew. The camp cook, Pearson, ain’t the best cook, but it’s… edible.” Charles shrugs.

Ruby thanks Charles, attempting to sit up but struggling. Kira and Stevie scoot back and share a knowing look as Charles hurriedly sets the bottle and bowl next to the bed before placing a hand under her back.

“Need a hand?” he asks.

“Sure, thanks,” says Ruby grudgingly, annoyed at having to accept the help. She carefully wraps her arm around his shoulders as he places his other hand under her knees, gingerly shifting her so she is sitting up in bed. As he hands her the bowl of stew, Kira stands up.

“Well, I’ve gotta get back to guard duty. Stevie, you should find Roxy and let her know Ruby’s fine.” She looks at Stevie pointedly, and nods towards Ruby and Charles, raising her eyebrows before exiting. Stevie stands immediately, taking the hint.

“I’ll see what I can find out about the Raiders. I know Roxy had some trouble with them a while back.. I’m sure she’ll be eager to help. We’ll come check on you tomorrow.” She glances at Charles one last time as she leaves.

Ruby chuckles to herself at her friends’ subtleness, ignoring the pain in her side. Charles doesn’t seem to pick up on the exchange and sits down in the chair facing the bed.

“So what do you think?” Charles asks, nodding at the bowl of stew in Ruby’s hand.

“Did he.. empty a whole sack of salt into this?” She looks at the stew sceptically.

Charles chuckles. “Oh - ” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a strip of green. “Add some oregano, it’ll help with the flavour, at least.”

Ruby takes the herb gratefully. “Thank you,” she says, mixing it into her stew and spooning it into her mouth. The oregano made the stew almost nice.

Charles watches her eat with a curious expression.

“What, never seen a girl eat before?” Ruby asks irritably.

“What happened there?” He uses his own hand to gesture towards his eye, indicating Ruby’s scar that ran straight down her left eyebrow and over her cheek. Ruby places the bowl down on the bed and ducks her head so it was out of his view, something she had come to subconsciously do after all the years of shame from it.

“Don’t look at it,” she mumbles. “Please,” she adds, her eyes lifting to meet his. Charles’ hand gently lifts her chin so her gaze is level with his.

“You still look beautiful,” he says quietly, his eyes boring into hers.

Ruby scoffs.

“A beautiful badass?” he amends, giving her a sheepish smile. .

“Much better,” Ruby says indignantly, returning to her stew. “I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours.” She nods, using her eyebrows to indicate towards the slash running across his right cheek and ending at the corner of his mouth.

Charles chuckles darkly, a sound that seems to come from deep within his chest. “I don’t want to send you running for the mountains. Maybe one day,” he says, standing up. “But for now, you need to heal. Unfortunately, you are going to have another scar under those bandages, but it just makes you even scarier.” He smiles as he heads out of the tent.

Ruby hears the question under it all: maybe one day… did that mean he intended to stay around? Suddenly, she remembers something.

“Hey – Charles! Bones?”

“What?” He turns, a puzzled look on his face.

“My horse.”

“Oh, right. He’s fine – he’s out with the other horses, being taken care of. Funny, actually. We didn’t even have to lead him back with us, he just followed along behind us the whole way here.”

The sun is beginning to set over the campsite, reflecting a bright yellow glow from the water over the camp as Charles walks away towards the water. Ruby watches him, wondering who this handsome stranger was and why he was being so kind to her.

Ruby remains in Clemens Point for a few more days until she is strong enough to leave. The morning after, she woke to the smell of coffee and looked around to find a cup beside her bed along with a fresh set of clothes. Stevie came back daily to check on her (although Ruby suspected she also had ulterior motives for coming to camp), and she and Kira helped her change her clothes and bandage. Her wound from the gunshot had healed nicely in just under two days and by the end of the third, Ruby was able to sit up without the assistance of Charles, who had brought her stew every afternoon and even helped her hobble out to sit around the campfire on her third night.

The sun is setting once more on Ruby’s fourth day in Clemens Point. Just as Kira and Stevie are finishing up, Arthur Morgan comes into the tent, calling out loudly to make sure Ruby was decent.

“Mr Morgan,” smiles Ruby politely. “I never got a chance to thank you for helping me out the other day. I would say if it weren’t for you and Mr Smith, I wouldn’t have made it out of there alive, but…” she trails off, her lips pulled back in a taut smile and her eyes hard.

“I know, I know. You had it covered. Charles already told me about how you think you were gonna escape from four on one” Arthur waves her off. “Actually, I’ve got some news and I’m sure you wanna hear it. It’s about them Lemoyne Raiders.”

Arthur tells Ruby, Stevie and Kira about how he and Lenny found where the Lemoyne Raiders were camped out in an old estate house outside Saint Denis.

“Shady Belle? I know the place,” Ruby says. “Wasn’t aware it had any inhabitants.” She looks at the other two young women expectantly, leaning forward.

“We’ll scope it out,” says Kira. “Stevie and I will collect Roxy tonight and report back.”

“Okay, but-”

“We won’t hit it without you, Ruby. This is your payback,” says Stevie. “If you’re ready, we’ll do it tomorrow night.”

Ruby sighs and leans back against the wall of the tent. “I appreciate that. Thank you.” She looks at Arthur. “Looks as though my stay is almost up.” Ruby stretches her arms, showing how much her injury is allowing her to move.

Arthur chuckles. “Well, I know of at least one person who won’t be thrilled about that news.”

Ruby rolls her eyes, but they land on Charles, who’s sitting at a table across camp sharpening some arrowheads. As if she called his name, Charles looks up and meets Ruby’s gaze. His lips pull up into a small smile and he stands up and makes his way over to the small gathering in the tent.

“Well, Hosea mentioned something about wanting to find some ancient Braithwaite gold, so I’m gonna try ‘n’ find a lead on that,” says Arthur. “Take care, Miss Cortez.” He nods at Stevie and Kira and claps a hand on Charles’ shoulder on his way out.

“Yes, Javier said he wanted to try out a new fishing spot that’s great for fishing at dusk, so I best go get ready. See you tomorrow, Stevie,” Kira says as she follows Arthur.

“Alright, well. I guess that’s my cue to leave too. I’ll be back to collect you tomorrow, Rubes.” With a final glance back at Ruby and Charles, Stevie leaves.

“Hey,” Ruby smiles up at Charles.

“You wanna join me for a drink by the fire?” Charles asks.

“Sure,” she says, getting up. Charles moves forwards to help her stand up, but Ruby holds her hands out to stop him. Charles gives a wry chuckle at her stubbornness but stands back. Ruby grits her teeth but manages to stand up surprisingly quicker than she had been able to earlier that day.

“You know, it’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help,” Charles says, offering his arm for stability as they exit the tent.

“It is, and I don’t need help anyway,” says Ruby, swatting his arm away and hobbling towards the campfire.

Charles grabs two bottles of beer from a crate on a nearby table and the two of them find a seat on a log by the fire. An older man who had introduced himself on Ruby’s second day in camp as Hosea was telling a story to a few other members of camp. Ruby and Charles both sat and listened, drinking as the night grew heavier and cooler air began to set in.

At some point in the night, during her fourth bottle of beer, Ruby realised her head was spinning and her eyes began to droop. Charles had ducked off for a bathroom break and to grab more beer, leaving Ruby sitting by the fire by herself, listening to an old man everyone referred to as “Uncle” playing a harmonica.

“Heeeey pretty lady.” A young woman with short blonde curly hair and freckles splattered across her nose sways up to her and plonks herself down on the log next to Ruby. “You’re the moonshiner Charles keeps going on about, right?” She looks at Ruby through half shut eyes and smiles. “I’m Karen,” She holds out her hand.

“Hi, Karen, I’m Ruby,” Ruby says, shaking her hand. “I’ve seen you around camp while I was stuck in bed.” Ruby giggles drunkenly. “Wait – what do you mean ‘going on about me’? I’ve only met the man once before,” she says, bewildered.

“Exactly!” Karen laughs. “For a man of few words, let me tell you, I’ve heard a few times now about how you shot up the Rhodes saloon, killed a bunch of these ‘Lemoyne Raiders’, then jumped off a balcony onto your horse!”

“When you put it like that, it makes it sound so much more badass. But really, it was nothing,” laughs Ruby, waving her off.

Karen sighs. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Ruby. And believe me when I say that at some point, us girls here have wished he would look at us that way.”

Ruby tries to think of something to say, but the alcohol clouds her brain and her mouth feels dry. As if on cue, a gangly red-headed man with missing teeth swaggers by, telling her he found something “really interesting behind a tree just outside of camp if she wanted to check it out”, adding a wink. Karen giggles and follows him, wishing Ruby good night as she leaves.

Ruby watches the pair leave, and spots Charles heading back to the fire with two more bottles of beer. He sits down in the seat Karen had occupied a moment before, handing Ruby a bottle.

“So,” says Charles. “You’re leaving tomorrow. Are you sure you’re healed enough?”

“Of course I am,” says Ruby, jumping up from the log and doing a small jog on the spot. “If I weren’t healed could I do this?” She lifts her arms above her head and turns in a small pirouette, but her stitches pull slightly and she collapses back on the log, laughing.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Charles laughs as he catches her, but his expression turns sombre.

“What is it?” Ruby asks

Charles sighs. “I just.. I guess I’m worried I won’t see you again,” he says quietly, looking down.

Ruby looks at him thoughtfully. A combination of alcohol, tiredness and humidity are turning her brain fuzzy, and her hand finds its way under Charles’ chin, tilting it up so his eyes meet her own.

“I know where to find you,” she murmurs, leaning forward. “You’ll see me again.”

Charles closes the distance between them, his lips meeting hers as his hand cups her cheek gently. Ruby leans closer towards him and Charles’ other hand finds her waist when a hooting laugh carries across the fire. Ruby pulls away and looks over to see Uncle watching them joyfully.

“Yes! I knew you’d do it Charles, I told John you’d do it! He doubted you’d make a move but I had faith in ya! Where is that greasy bastard, I gotta go get my money..” The old man gets up and hobbles away, muttering about ‘bets’ and ‘making moves’.

“Did they.. did they bet money on us?” Ruby asks incredulously.

“I think so?” Charles laughs.

“Well, on that note, I think I’m going to bed. I don’t think it would have been much longer ‘til you had to carry me there anyway.” She stands up.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I carried you to bed,” Charles chuckles. He stoops down and sweeps Ruby up into his arms. “And hopefully it won’t be the last.”

Ruby wraps an arm around his shoulders as he carries her back to the tent. Charles lays her down gently on the cot before leaning in to kiss her lips again, deeper this time, before pulling away.

“Good night, Ruby,” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Good night, Charles,” Ruby smiles, sleep already taking her over.

#ruby cortez #ruby x charles #death squad #charles smith #kira stephens #stevie blackheart carwyn #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #oc x canon #rockstar games #charles smith x oc

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scoundrels-in-love · 5 years ago

Text

Did you slip in through open doors and sit down, just to look at me like that (every day)

Brienne doesn't mean to lie to her father. She just wants him to stop trying to set her up with men who aren't Jaime Lannister, whom she's secretly in love with. Unfortunately, that's exactly who eagerly inserts himself in the narrative as her fake boyfriend. And her father is coming to King's Landing in two weeks.

Truly, what could go wrong?

Also on AO3. Part of @jbmonthlymadness Mutual Pining challenge.

It starts like most lies and life changing avalanches - quite innocently.

Brienne is sitting on a couch in the living room, a sports game playing on the screen mutely while she chats with her father over a videocall. Jaime is puttering around in the kitchen, preparing snacks for the movie they’re planning to watch after the game ends and all things considered, it’s a lot like most of her Sunday nights.

Except her dad had left the matter of dating alone for a few good months and she definitely isn’t overjoyed by the theme's revival. “Brienne, he really likes your work and I think there’d be no harm meeting him for a coffee after the convention.”

“Dad, no. Thank you, but no.” She shifts uncomfortably, considers calling Jaime over because the movie is ‘starting’, so she can end the call early.

“I know you think you don’t need relationships and maybe you don’t need them, but I just think you deserve to have someone who loves and respects you, admires you and what you do,” her dad says and she can feel the well-intended love warming her all the way from Tarth. She longs for a huge beach umbrella to hide under. “And that’s exactly what my friends do,” she says, firmly, and the knowledge it’s true fills her chest. She cannot entirely blame her father’s worry - the girl that had left Tarth would not have been able to imagine or believe the group of people that surround her nowadays, either. The warmth, support and sometimes the absolute nonsense she has found with them still feels almost unreal at times.

Her dad sighs, brows furrowing with soft concern in a way that makes her feel guilty somehow. “You know what I mean, Starlight. You don’t have to keep seeing him, but won’t you consider at least one meeting?”

And this is when the most horrible, most escapist idea bounces off her tongue, bypassing her brain entirely. “It wouldn’t be fair to the man, because I just started seeing someone, dad.”

The silence following is no longer than a blink, but she feels as if it has turned into the time stretch she is going to need to hurriedly pack her bags, go to the airport and leave for Pentos, never to return again. She has lied to her father only a handful of times, and though he only found out once (when she had lied about why she had broken Connigton’s nose), this one is ancient parchment thin because she has no followup whatsoever.

“Really? Who is it?” Selwyn leans closer to the phone, an exact mix of disbelief and excitement such a statement would call for. Her stomach is both knotted up and rolling around, as if looking for an escape route.

“Yes,” she responds, turning to call for Jaime for some chips in a horrible attempt to bargain for time to use lost Asshai magics to summon a person who doesn’t exist.

Except her roommate is already standing behind the couch, plate of snacks in his hand and grin on his face. He swoops down, propping his chin on her shoulder and she can feel the heat radiating from his brilliant smile as he says: “It’s me.”

Her stomach finds a trap door and falls straight into the abyss.

Her dad’s eyebrows shoot up and this time, he leans back, as if to inspect the picture they both paint, squished in the tiny frame of her camera. She can feel he finds it unconvincing. So she does the only reasonable thing: turns her head and presses a brief kiss to the corner of Jaime’s mouth.

“Yes,” Brienne says for the second time that night and it feels just as condemning. Her lips are still burning.

“I finally gathered my courage and confessed to her recently, but I am still in the process of convincing her of the endless depth of my devotion, hence her hesitancy to mention it immediately, Mr. Tarth.”

He sounds so perfectly boy-next-door, sweet and respectful, all the things she knows he is not (at least the respectful part), but Jaime’s always liked her father and been an excellent actor. It’s rare when he uses the skill to look like anything else than an utter asshole, though, so in any other situation she’d marvel at the sight. But she can’t, her mind exists only to force her lips into, hopefully, a natural smile and a nod in the direction of her father.

“Well, that’s great news! I was wondering if you’d ever get to it,” her dad grins and she almost asks him to repeat it, because it makes no sense , but he isn’t done talking yet. “I will see you two after the convention, then? I look forward to your lecture, Starlight. And the whole story of how the two of you got together.”

She nods dumbly, exchanges good night wishes with her dad (accompanied by “Good night, Mr. Tarth!” in sing-song voice) and then ends the call. The relief doesn’t set in, like Brienne had hoped.

Jaime plops down next to her, looking completely unbothered as he turns the volume back up. The movie is about to start, but she has about a million questions, for herself and more importantly - for Jaime.

“Why did you do that?”

“Well, I couldn’t let your lie fall apart the minute you said it. That’s not what friends do.” He stresses the word strangely, with almost a brittle edge, but Brienne is not equipped to decipher it right now.

“But now we will have to pretend to be dating and if we fake a breakup, how will we explain you still live with me?”

“You haven’t been dating me for a month and already think about breaking up? I will do a better job now that I am aware of it,” he grins, easy and bright, like he has just discovered their favorite childhood cartoon Blue Knight is having a rerun on Saturday mornings, instead of making light of a new and nerve wrecking variable of their lives.

Instead of processing any of it, Brienne punches his shoulder slightly, at which he groans in an exaggerated manner. “I never agreed to being manhandled outside the bedroom.”

Her brain, thoroughly deep fried by the events of tonight, pulls itself together in that moment to create a vivid image of Jaime being manhandled in the bedroom. Briene inhales sharply, but somehow manages to turn exhale into something else than an eager noise.

Before her brain decides to cope by making the image into a clip, she focuses on the real matter at hand. “Jaime, this is serious . We just lied to my father and now we will have to pretend to be dating indefinitely, unless we have a faux amicable breakup, because I don’t want to pretend you’re not my friend for the rest of my life.” Somewhere in the abyss, her stomach convulses at the thought.

At this, he turns to face her, more serious, but with last remnants of playful grin gilding his words. “So, it was a little spontaneous, but you were about to invent a man who’d always be away on business trips and ask Sansa photoshop fake couple photos, weren’t you?” Brienne bristles, but can’t say no , when it had been one of the panicked thoughts running headfirst in the side of her skull.

He leans in, arm that has been resting on the back of couch coming to wrap around her shoulder and pull her closer and last vestiges of lighthearted grin turn into something she doesn’t quite have the words for, as his teeth sink in his bottom lip just so and his eyes look darker and wilder than any forest she’s ever known. “Believe me, I will be way more convincing .”

Brienne has to bite the inside of her cheek to not blurt out that’s one of the things I’m afraid of . How is she supposed to walk through this unscatched when his well-meant game and her own yearnings will cut her into like fine silver wire?

He seems to take her silence as agreement and backs off a little, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We will figure it out, B. War council tomorrow. But for now, let’s just watch the movie, okay?”

His gaze is warm now, like a lovely summer day in shade, and she is comforted by it enough to agree. But not enough to actually be able to focus on the movie instead of replaying tonight’s events in her mind, asking herself again and again why she had lied. Jaime chastises her for it a few times and seems to gradually grow tenser, too, until they call it a night earlier than they normally would.

“Don’t worry about it too much and just sleep,” he tells her for good night and his concern drops a ladder in the bottomless pit where her stomach still resides, while his smile sheds some light in it.

And when Brienne curls up in her bed a little later, she knows she lied because she does feel taken, if only in her heart. She’s in love with Jaime, has been for a long time now. It’s never been something to really think about, just a fact that sometimes fills her with glow and pinpricks of yearning when she wonders just how the lines of their friendship would blur into something more if it were possible.

Except now she will have to walk the line between pretense and her secret fantasy without revealing it.

She is so, so fucked.

#braime #Jaime x Brienne #braime ff #rainy writes stuff #my fic #Oh No #this is multichapter obviously #we're all worried me included #but I have lot of free time in April SO HOPEFULLY this bodes well

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wellhellsbelles · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! i absolutely loved both the 1st chapter of to the rythm of your wild heart and the mini fanfic you wrote :) i found somewhere this prompt that was like farkle and riley are best friends and they work as teachers in the same school and their students ship them and have bets on when they are going to finally admit their feelings for eachother

omg thank you so much!! i’m having such a fun time writing all these prompts, and this one ended up being my favorite by far (especially considering the word count is uhhh 7.1k whoops lol)

Enjoy!!! :)

ao3 link or read below

Even if the universe hadn't pre-ordained them getting together, their students would've forced them in that direction.

The one where Farkle and Riley are teachers, best friends, and their students are maybe a little too involved in their love lives.

(i. the challenge)

“Okay, I know I’ve said it the last few years, but this will definitely be the year my photography class beats your puny little physics class,” Riley told Farkle, dropping a box full of supplies on his desk. He peered up from his computer, adjusting his glasses as he quirked a brow at his best friend.

“So that’s how we’re starting tomorrow? With a fresh cup of competition? What happened to Miss ‘I-Wanna-Take-It-Easy-This-Year’?”

“That was summer Riley. She’s different, you should know this by now, Farkle,” Riley scoffed. “And besides, that was before I was able to get funding for really cool cameras for class, photoshop for all our computers, and was given the greenlight to start photography club. Face it, Minkus, you’re toast.”

“Okay, Riley. Whatever you say,” Farkle rolled his eyes at her, stealing a sip of coffee from the mug on his desk (Riley got it for him a couple of Christmases ago and he loved it; it said, “I don’t give a flux”, and had a helpful diagram underneath that she couldn’t even begin to understand.)

“Damnit, Farkle! Stop using your stupid head games so I can feel victorious! I know you’re in this just about as much as I am, so stop feigning disinterest. I will be the best teacher this year for once! All of those physics students are going to be begging to be in my class!” Riley shouted, picking up the box off his desk and disappearing out of the room. Farkle listened to the sound of her sneakers squeaking against the hallway tile fading out in the distance, shaking his head and chuckling as he continued typing away on his computer.

(ii. the meeting)

Riley spotted him hiding amongst the teachers filling up the auditorium seats for their mandatory teacher orientation for the beginning of the new school year. It warmed her heart to see him sunk low in his chair, trying to appear invisible and yet clearly waiting for her if the denim jacket draped over the seat beside him was any indication.

They’d done this meeting numerous times now since they started—they’d met five years ago, both new teachers to the school and unsure about their place amongst the other staff. Riley had been nervous as hell, but as soon as she saw Farkle sequestered to one of the rows further back by himself, she realized she wasn’t alone. She took a seat beside him, introduced herself despite his desperation to remain unseen, and from then on they were glued to the hip, the best of friends. Neither of them had been apart from one another during any school function, and they didn’t intend on changing that.

He was her partner in crime, after all.

“Miss me?” Riley asked when she reached him. Farkle breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed her, picking the denim jacket up off of the seat and gesturing beside himself.

Even after all this time, he still remained nervous at the beginning of the year, still hiding himself away from the rest of the staff he knew well by now. His penchant for anxiety was a curious one, but not anything Riley chided him for. She’d done her job by helping him get acclimated to everyone else and was definitely pushing it by encouraging him to sit closer to the rest of the teachers during these meetings; she chose which battles she fought very carefully.

“You’re late by five minutes,” he said pointedly, and Riley rolled her eyes.

“So dramatic, Farkle.”

“I prefer ‘reasonably ceremonious’.”

“Whatever you say. Now, did you bring our entertainment or what?”

Farkle flashed his phone, showing off an image of a bingo sheet.

“Bingo,” he smiled cheekily, “It’s an updated version. I think I notice new quirks about Principal Carson every year.”

“As long as the bingo space is ‘Gals and Pals’, then we’re good as gold,” Riley told him.

“Oh, you know it is. I did have to replace some of the obvious Einstein quotes into their own category to make room for the comedian stool and water bottle.”

“It’s like he wants to do standup. I think we should just encourage him to do standup, it’d be a wonderful time,” she laughs.

“It’d be fantastic, but then we’d be out of a principal. He’d be too good,” Farkle said, and Riley’s laughter quickly turned to a full-out peal. Some of the teachers around sent her looks of disdain and she cut herself off, but not before allowing one last cackle to slip past her lips.

“Alright, gals and pals! Are we all ready to get started for our new school year? I know I am!” Principal Carson exclaimed, taking his place at the front of the stage. “We better get started, because as Einstein said, time is relative!”

“Wow, two in one go. This is getting to be too easy,” Riley whispered, and Farkle couldn’t help but agree.

(iii. the bet)

Riley watched with amusement as all her students gathered around one student in particular, whispering in hushed, conspicuous tones. She loved her advanced photography class because they all had been together for so long, had formed their own friendships with one another after sharing the same class. They were sort of one big family at this point, and it wouldn’t be the first time they’d done something sneaky behind Riley’s back.

It’s only the second week, Riley thought, What could they possibly be planning?

“Alright guys, break it up. Don’t you wanna learn some neat photoshop tricks?” Riley asked rhetorically, waving her hands apart to mimic separating.

The students fled to their seats, allowing her to finally see the student in question they had been crowding around. The girl, a small red-head named Penny, was busy compiling a stack of cash and then shoving it into a plastic bag, and despite knowing Penny was harmless, Riley didn’t want to leave the matter.

“Penny, whatcha got there?” Riley said, pointing to the money. Penny shrugged.

“It’s the pot. I’m the bookmaker.”

“Bookmaker?”

“Ms. Matthews, no offense, but please follow along. It’s not that hard; I’m taking bets.”

Riley narrowed her eyes at her student.

“What could you guys even be betting on? We’re in a high school,” Riley mused, bewildered. “Also I am not about to let you guys run a gambling ring under my nose. That reeks of something I can get in trouble for.”

“Relax,” Penny told her, “It’s nothing bad. We’re all just placing bets on when Mr. Minkus is going to ask you out. Or vice-versa. Actually, there’s also a bet for if it happens at the same time. I think Frankie’s the one who’s got that bet, he’s been holding down the betting pool for the AP Physics class.”

“What?!” Riley exclaimed, “What do you mean you’re betting on us getting together?”

“Ms. Matthews, you and Mr. Minkus have been toeing around one another the last few years. We just figured we’d try and capitalize on it this year. I ran a soft betting pool last year sans money, and I think it turned out really well, personally,” Penny exclaimed.

“You two are just so cute together!” Maggie crooned from behind her.

“I really thought I was gonna win it, too, but then we came back and I had lost,” Jess pouted from the back of the classroom. Riley’s head was still reeling from the fact that her students were betting on her love-life.

“What made you think you were gonna win?” she asked Jess.

“Well, Tanner had told us that Mr. Minkus had moved into your apartment building at the end of the year, so I assumed it’d take you to the end of summer to get your crap together. I was wrong, apparently,” Jess said.

“Oh my god, I cannot have my students betting on my personal life. That is just all levels of wrong,” Riley announced, running her hands down her face. “Alright, no more of this! I am not condoning this strange gambling ring you’ve got going on. And Penny, you better tell Frankie to cut it out, too! Mr. Minkus and I need our students to recognize that there’s a reason we keep our personal lives out of the classroom. We’re here to learn, so if I catch you guys talking about it in class again, I’ll have no choice but to give you detention, okay?”

That effectively cut off any further chatter on the matter, and Riley sighed, shaking her head.

This was going to be a fun school year, no doubt about that.

(iv. the new teacher)

“The kids have a bet going on,” Riley told Farkle three weeks later. They were waiting their turn in the makeshift buffet line in the cafeteria, paper plates in their hands as they made their second trip for dessert. A potluck had been set up after school for the staff to celebrate the first month of school going off without a hitch (it was always Riley’s favorite; Lisa the Latin teacher always brought homemade lemon squares that were to die for.)

“Oh yeah?” Farkle asked.

“Apparently they’re in conjunction with your kids, as well. I had to stop a gambling circuit with actual money from forming in my classroom, but I think it’s already too late,” she groaned, stepping forward when the line moved.

“Wait, my kids, too? I know we get competitive against one another but isn’t that taking it a little too far?” he said, eyebrow raised in concern. “What could they possibly be betting on, they’re high schoolers!”

“You know, I asked the same question. Penny thought I was nuts for pestering her about it.”

“Penny Miller? Notoriously shy Penny Miller? That Penny?”

“Yeah, she’s the bookmaker. I think I made her too confident in my class, if that’s possible.”

“I think someone has an inflated ego. Narcissus, eat your heart out!” Farkle exclaimed, clenching his fist. Riley jabbed him in the side with her elbow.

“Rude! I am not egotistic. I just know my worth is all.”

“Narcissistic,” he coughed, earning him a look of disdain from her.

“You’re mean, Farkle Minkus.”

“I am what I am,” he shrugged, grabbing a piece of cake to place on his plate. “This cake looks too good to be Stacy’s. Is it possible that she honed her cake-making skills this summer, because if so, I’m here for it.”

“Pretty sure the new teacher made it,” the teacher across from him, Landon from the history department, cut in. “Stacy had to go on maternity leave at the last second.”

“New teacher?” Riley furrowed her brows.

“Yeah, Isadora Smackle, teaches calculus. She’s right over there,” he pointed ahead to a small, lanky girl with tan skin, long raven hair, and black cat-eye frames. Farkle’s mouth dropped open and Riley had to poke him to get his attention.

“Farkle?”

“What?” he answered, not really paying attention as his eyes remained on the new teacher. Riley pouted.

“I wasn’t done telling you about the bet. Don’t you want to hear about it?”

“Yeah, sure, but could you give me a moment? I’m gonna go talk to that new teacher,” he told her as he walked off towards Isadora Smackle.

Riley felt a pang of disappointment go through her, but she ignored it for the sake seeming ridiculous. He was just going to go talk to the new teacher, it wasn’t like he was going to abandon Riley at the potluck. It was their tradition to go to these things and bear them together, because as much as Riley put on a front about being comfortable around everyone, it really was only because she had Farkle there to make her feel comfortable.

Without him it was like . . . it was like she was missing a limb.

Riley stole two lemon squares (what, she was feeling sorry for herself!) and sat back down at the table the two of them had once preoccupied. She pretended not to watch them from afar, but she couldn’t help herself in the end—she’d never seen Farkle put himself out there like this; it was strange. But there he was, standing in front of Isadora Smackle with a goofy grin on his face, and despite seeming stiff still, she seemed just as charmed by Farkle.

Suddenly Riley didn’t feel like eating her lemon squares.

She waited for him to come back, too, but after a long while, she realized that was a fruitless effort. Farkle was glued to the new teacher and Riley was left deserted, so she threw out her lemon squares, found her bag, and left to go finish work in her classroom.

And if she ignored the obvious hurt snaking its way down her throat, well . . .

So be it.

(v. the grudge)

“Alright, I’m forcing you to eat with me, effective immediately,” Farkle announced as he barged into Riley’s classroom during lunch. She had her door shut to deter any office hours while she tried to catch up on grading, something that seemed to have been slipping by her lately.

The door was not shut, however, to one Farkle Minkus—she couldn’t keep him out even if she tried.

Riley eyed him warily as he set a bag down on her desk, pulling out the contents to reveal Chinese food from their favorite Chinese place down the street.

A bribe.

“Bribe me all you want, Minkus. I’m still busy,” she tried to brush him off, but Farkle was persistent. He didn’t take no for an answer, opening all the containers of food and placing chopsticks in front of her.

“Nope, not going to happen. You’re going to have lunch with me because snuck in all this food, and I’m not going to let it go to waste because somebody is being snippy with me,” he told her, tossing a plate in the only empty spot on her desk. “I hope you appreciate me because I bought orange chicken which I know you love and you know I detest, so dig in or so help me god.”

Well, Riley really couldn’t argue with that logic.

She sighed in resignation, abandoning her position at her computer and turning to face him. She picked up the chopsticks begrudgingly and began scooping rice onto her plate, a small smile on her face.

It was hard for Riley to stay mad at Farkle; he made it impossible.

“Fine, thank you for the food I didn’t ask for, Farkle,” she told him, emphasizing his name at the end for dramatic effect. The smug grin spread across his face quicker than lightning, and she would’ve done anything at that point to wipe it off (except she wouldn’t, she couldn’t.)

“You’re welcome, Riley. Now catch me up on stuff. I haven’t seen you in a hot second.”

“Penny’s still driving me nuts, there’s that. I know she’s still running that underground betting ring and it makes me so mad that I don’t know how to stop it,” Riley huffed. “Then, of course, I have to learn how to use photoshop along with the rest of the kids because I haven’t been able to afford photoshop on my own, so not only does my class get to fail, but they get to see me fail at it, too.”

“Riley,” Farkle said softly, reaching out to grip her hand, “You’ve got this. Your kids know how amazing of a teacher you are, and they know it’s as much of a learning curve for them as it is for you. You’ll get the hang of it because you’re Riley Matthews.”

She couldn’t help the feeling of warmth that spread through her body from his touch, how being around him alone made her mind ten trillion times calmer.

“Thank you, Farkle. For everything, really,” she smiled. Farkle smiled back at her, his mouth dropping open as he made to speak, but then Isadora Smackle (Smackle, she insisted upon being referred to as) opened the door and stuck her head through. Farkle released Riley’s hand at once, his attention turning to Smackle.

“Farkle, we have math club in five minutes! Did you forget you’re supposed to be going over important theorems in preparation for next weekend’s competition?” she asked. Farkle glanced over at Riley then back at Smackle, and Riley didn’t need to be a mind reader to know his decision.

“Go ahead, Farkle. Your math club needs you,” she told him, waving him towards the door.

“Rain check?” he asked as he stood up from the chair he’d pulled up to the desk. Riley nodded.

“Sure thing.”

Farkle waved and parted with a quick goodbye, disappearing out of Riley’s door and leaving her with a desk full of partially touched Chinese food.

Your math club needs you, she said aloud.

But I need you more, her heart cried out softly.

(vi. the planning committee)

As per usual, once October arrived, everyone began planning for the school’s fall festival. It was Riley’s favorite event of the year, the one she looked forward to every time autumn came around. She’d loved it so much her first year of teaching at the school that when the student council needed help after deciding to expand the festival outside of the gym, she volunteered without hesitation. And, of course, where Riley went, Farkle followed.

They always asked for volunteers inside of their classes, but this year Riley was proud that she could enlist her entire photography club to help, along with Farkle’s math club. Sure, things had changed between her and Farkle since the beginning of the semester, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t going to uphold tradition to help plan and set up the festival.

“We should be set for next week,” Rebecca, the student body class president, announced towards the end of their final meeting for planning. “I contacted all the food trucks that had said yes to confirm their attendance and they’re all still on board, Chelsea called the pumpkin patch to check and make sure the pumpkins would be delivered on time, all our booths have been divided between the photography club and math club, and we have a final announcement. Wanna take it away, Ben?”

Ben, the vice president, cleared his throat and a grin grew on his face.

“We didn’t want to say anything until the last minute just to make sure it was going to actually happen, but we booked a Ferris wheel this year!” he exclaimed. Everyone applauded and Riley’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“That’s amazing, guys! This is going to be the best fall festival yet!”

“Thanks,” Rebecca said, a bashful smile creeping at the corners of her mouth. “Now, any last questions before we break until next week?” No one said anything, everyone in agreement that they had everything on lockdown. “Awesome! Thank you guys so much, and I can’t wait for next Saturday. This is going to be the bomb!”

Everyone began packing up, excited chatter filling the room as they all talked about the anticipated fall festival. Riley picked up her own bag and walked to meet up with Farkle, knocking her shoulder into his.

“Hey,” she greeted him cheerfully.

“Hey!” he echoed back, pulling his laptop bag over his shoulder and following her as they left the room they used for committee meetings.

“So, isn’t this awesome? We’ve got so many cool booths going on this year, food trucks, and a freaking Ferris wheel.”

“I know, I can’t believe how big it’s going to be. To think it was only a small set of booths and homemade crafts when we started out.”

“I loved it then, too, but I’m so glad we’ve been able to help it branch out a bunch. I just know I can’t wait to kick your ass at the ring toss. I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been practicing all summer long,” she told him, smug. Farkle paused mid-step in the hall, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth downward.

“Uh, about that, Riley . . .”

“What?” she asked, glancing over at him. The look on his face was apologetic, and it suddenly dawned on her why.

“I asked Isadora if she wanted to go with me this year, I’m sorry,” he told her, brow furrowed.

“Oh. Okay,” Riley said, trying her best to keep her features schooled, “That’s . . . that’s fine. I’ll just help out with one of the booths this year. I’m sure Penny would love to have me help with pumpkin carving.”

“Riley, you love getting to do all this stuff at the festival. You don’t need me to have fun there.”

She shook her head.

“No, it’s really fine. I know Penny needed help with coordinating all the pumpkin stuff, so I’ll just do that. I want to see people enjoy it themselves more than anything, so this will make me just as happy,” she tried to reassure him, but her words felt flat even to her own ears.

“Riles . . .” Farkle trailed, wanting to fight her on the matter, but Riley gave him a sad sort of smile.

“I’ll be busy with work and photoshop classes, so see you at the festival?”

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed half-heartedly, and Riley waved goodbye before abandoning him in the hall to walk to her car.

In that moment, Riley felt like she was losing everything. She didn’t want to, but her heart felt the loss all the same; Farkle was supposed to be her best friend, the one who she went to all these school events with, the person who stuck by her side no matter what. But now that Smackle was in the picture, Riley found herself abandoned at these functions more often than not. What was once enjoyable to her had hinged entirely on Farkle being there with her, and that realization left her feeling . . .

Alone.

She felt alone, and she hated it.

(vii. the festival)

Riley put on her favorite purple-striped t-shirt, overalls, black converses, and braided her hair into twin pigtails, preparing herself for the festival. She topped the look off by tying a bow around her head, looking at herself in the mirror with confidence afterward. She was determined to enjoy the festival despite the fact that she was flying solo this year, and really, she could. The festival was always her favorite and although her plans changed, she had a feeling she’d still have fun.

She’d be damned if she didn’t.

Riley grabbed her bag and left her apartment, locking the door and resisting throwing a glance at the apartment door across from her. All she needed to do was shut her brain off and not worry about anything, not bother being bent out of shape about the sudden shift in her life.

Easier said than done.

Her brain had this unparalleled habit of holding on to every worry and anxious thought that cropped up inside her mind. It was hard to just shut that off; it was all she ever knew. But she also knew that she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t at least try to enjoy the day she’d been looking forward to all year long. It didn’t behoove her to ruminate, either, so she remained optimistic, actually thrilled to help carve and decorate pumpkins. Fall was still fall, her favorite season of the year, and nothing could stop her from that.

Not even dumb boys and dumb dates.

The festival was an array of glowing lights when she arrived, and that familiar spark of overwhelming joy coursed through her at the sight. There were already cars filling up the spaces of the parking lot despite the festival not starting for another ten minutes, and Riley couldn’t believe her eyes as she got out of the car, the Ferris wheel standing tall in all its grandiose glory. She beamed at all the hard work coming to fruition, knowing for certain that this was going to be their best festival yet.

“Ms. Matthews, I can’t believe you’re helping me out with pumpkins this year!” Penny greeted her, face already covered in wild face paint that made her look like a scarecrow.

“Yeah, I’m excited!” Riley exclaimed. “I’ve seen the way you’ve manned this booth singlehandedly the last couple of years and can’t wait to help you out.”

“Do you mind setting out some pumpkins for me, then? I still have to get the paint set up for the stations,” Penny asked.

“Sure thing!”

Riley did as she was told, setting out pumpkins of all different shapes, sizes, and colors, admiring each one as she set them down. She was glad that they used pumpkins from a local pumpkin patch and that they didn’t just stick to the standard orange ones, but the other sorts of gourds that came in a variety of colors. As soon as she finished, she noticed that people had already started filing in, kids, teenagers, and parents alike. They all wore bright grins and their eyes sparkled in wonderment at everything around them.

It made Riley’s heart feel warm to see it.

They manned their booth until all the pumpkins had been given away and decorated, happy to see everyone decorate their pumpkins in their own styles. Riley found herself caked with purple paint up the entirety of her arms, and when Penny saw it, she added a brushstroke of orange to her nose.

“To balance it out,” Penny had explained. Riley couldn’t argue with that logic.

By the time the last pumpkin had been gifted, the last few people remaining at the decorating stand, a familiar pair of people arrived.

“Hey, guys,” Farkle said, Smackle at his side. Riley’s smile at him came and went within a few seconds, from the moment she spotted him to the moment she noticed his fingers laced with Smackle’s.

“You look like you jumped in a vat of purple paint,” Smackle pointed out to Riley.

“I may as well have,” Riley found her voice.

“Too bad you two just got here, we’re out of pumpkins,” Penny told them with a shrug.

“That’s okay, we were just stopping by here to check out how everything was going before heading to the Ferris wheel,” Farkle said.

“Oh,” Riley said, her voice small.

“Well, why don’t you two go enjoy it, then? We’ll finish up here ourselves, thanks for visiting!” Penny cut in, an urgent edge to her tone as she shuffled Farkle and Smackle away from their booth. Riley sighed, crossing her arms against her chest as a dry hurt stuck itself in her throat.

“Hey, wanna get some funnel cake? It’s on me, Ms. Matthews; you look like you could use some sweet, fried food,” Penny offered, and Riley didn’t even have it in her to try and fight her on it. She just nodded her head, waiting while Penny grabbed her purse and then tugged her along towards the funnel cake truck.

Penny was right, in the end. Riley’s mood peaked again at the first taste of powdered sugar and fried dough, bursting into a fit of laughter when she noticed Penny had sugar caked all over her face after two minutes of having the confectionary. They wandered around the rest of the festival just to check things out, but Penny remained silent for the benefit of Riley, who appreciated the sentiment very much so. It floored her how caring and amazing her students were, especially Penny who had managed to land herself on Riley’s list after the bet debacle.

“You know, I am sorry about the bet thing,” Penny announced later, breaking the silence. Riley peered at her curiously, finishing her last bite of funnel cake before responding.

“Thanks. It did annoy me, but it didn’t matter to much to me until recently.”

“Do you think,” Penny began, “And don’t get mad at me, but do you think there might be another reason it bothers you?”

“What do you mean?” Riley asked. Penny’s mouth opened to respond, but her bright green eyes peered over to the Ferris wheel, widening in surprise when she saw something. Riley turned in time to see what it was exactly that Penny saw—

Farkle and Smackle were on the Ferris wheel together, and he was kissing her.

Suddenly, Penny’s question to Riley made sense, and more than that, the entire time since Smackle had entered the picture. Riley’s heart plummeted in her chest, her eyes stinging with regret.

Riley was in love with Farkle.

But she had realized it a day late and a dollar short, and now she had to face the repercussions and watch as he fell in love with someone else.

(viii. the breakup)

Riley’s epiphany at the fall festival was earth shattering and it hurt like hell, but that was it. Life went on after that and Riley did her best to ignore her feelings. She knew in retrospect that it had made sense, but there wasn’t much that knowing could do for her now. So she put herself into making herself better at photoshop for the kids, even signing them up for a special class at a local community college that focused on basic fundamentals of photoshop.

Her life wasn’t what it used to be, sure, but she learned to be happy with that. And she was.

Penny didn’t mention the underground betting ring again. In fact, she made it her personal goal to become Riley’s aide in class, sticking to her like Velcro. Riley didn’t know how to feel about the fact that her current best friend was twelve years younger than her but having Penny around was a welcome distraction. She was sweet and it made her happy that she had such wonderful students. Penny was also incredibly talented and actually knew a few photoshop skills that helped Riley out immensely.

Riley hardly saw Farkle anymore.

They were still friends, of course, but he rarely made the time he used to to see her, instead focusing his time on the math club and spending time with Smackle. Riley figured that she needed the space to clear her head, anyhow, because as much as he was her best friend, she depended on him for a lot.

This was . . . this was good for them.

Or that was what Riley tried to convince herself of.

She missed him more than anything, and not just because of her new-found feelings. Riley missed Farkle because he was her person, her best friend, the person she could depend on no matter what. And right now he was doing the one thing she never thought he could do.

He was letting her down.

But she ignored it, pushing her emotions deep down into a cavern in her chest and locking it shut. Riley had to focus on teaching her kids and enjoying her photography club, and idle feelings about Farkle were making themselves an obvious obstacle to that. So she allowed him to fade into the back of her mind, and things got better little by little.

Right until he threw himself back into her life.

“Do you mind if I take a seat next to you?” he asked her one day during one of their monthly staff meetings. It hurt Riley that he’d even feel the need to ask, but she understood that things were different. Not unfixable, just . . . different.

“Of course,” she told him, gesturing to the open spot beside her. His long gangly limbs settled himself into the seat, and Riley tried her best to not be charmed by him.

It didn’t work; it never really could when it came to him.

“You’re not sitting with Smackle today?” Riley inquired, curious. He shrugged half-heartedly.

“We broke up.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. We all have a whirlwind romances,” he said, trying to brush it off, but Riley could tell he wasn’t unaffected by it. She relaxed herself around him, unable to tame her natural instinct to comfort him.

“Farkle, romance is romance. You care and regardless of the amount of time you spend together, it still sucks when it ends, even if it’s on your terms. You’re allowed to be affected by the world around you.”

“Can we just talk about it another time?” he asked instead. Riley gave him a soft smile.

“Of course. Wanna pull out the bingo board?”

Farkle beamed.

“Do I ever.”

(ix. the crush redux)

The thing was, Riley loved holidays. She loved the major holidays—Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Halloween—all of them were her favorites. But she also loved the lesser-known or lesser-loved holidays just as much.

She was just a holiday fanatic.

So, despite the event not having as much traction as the fall festival, Riley still maintained excitement for the winter formal. Dances weren’t quite the same for teachers; they didn’t get to enjoy that wonderful feeling of teenage angst and romance, of nerves and excitement at the prospect of getting to enjoy time with your crush. But it had an air of fun attached to it regardless, so Riley helped plan for it all the same.

This was, of course, one of the tasks Riley never asked Farkle to help with.

She volunteered her time completely of her own volition because she genuinely enjoyed planning events for the school, so anything outside of the fall festival Riley assured Farkle he didn’t need to participate if he didn’t want to. And he didn’t want to—usually.

Which was why it came as a surprise to Riley when he arrived five minutes past starting time and sat beside her in the planning committee room without a single word, just pure determination on his face.

“What are you even doing here?” Riley had whispered, only to earn a hush from Farkle.

“Shhh. We’ve gotta focus right now.”

She huffed back at him but obeyed directions all the same, her curiosity by his presence still piqued, nonetheless.

Everything had gotten better between them; they’d spent the last month getting reacquainted with their friendship, not only spending time together in school but out of school, as well. He’d insisted on taking her out to eat every Friday, and the two of them created lesson plans together every week. There was just one small hitch in their friendship that made everything just a little more complicated.

Riley knew she was in love with him now.

That was something she could hold back easily before, when she knew he was unavailable and didn’t want to make time for her. But now that he was single, he wanted to spend every second with her, and it made Riley want to tear her hair out from the frustration that was bubbling up inside her.

At least she knew she had the angst and romance ready to go for the winter dance.

“Any questions?” Rebecca asked. Riley stared blankly at her, her brain having picked up on none of what Rebecca had been saying.

“I’ll fill you in later,” Farkle whispered to her when he noticed the expression on her face. Riley hated being an open book sometimes.

“Let’s split into partners to get some ideas flowing for decorations. We’ll come back in five minutes. Alright, break!”

Riley and Farkle turned towards each other, both knowing they were going to be partners without having to ask.

“So, the theme is ‘winter’,” Farkle said cheekily. Riley stuck her tongue out at him.

“Up yours, Minkus.”

“Ms. Matthews,” he gasped, acting mock offended, “This is not appropriate conversation for the children.”

“You’re such a nerd! We need to be coming up with ideas, let’s go. We don’t wanna look like idealess losers.”

“Okay, okay, we can start brainstorming. I just have one question that you’re going to have to answer me honestly,” he said. Riley quirked her brow.

“Oh yeah?”

“Can you promise me we go to the winter formal together? I missed being able to be with you at the fall festival,” Farkle told her, and Riley felt the blood rush to her face.

This isn’t a date. He’s not asking you out on a date; you’re just friends! It’s a friend thing, and you’re going to be chaperones, Riley tried to convince herself.

“Of course I’ll go with you, Farkle. There isn’t anyone else I’d want to go with than you,” she said, groaning internally when she registered the weight of her words. It was too late to take them back, but it didn’t seem to matter because Farkle was beaming from her answer.

“I can’t wait,” he smiled, and Riley knew from that point forward that she was in too deep.

(x. the winter formal)

Riley signed up to help place all the decorations for the winter dance, so by the time she’s finished, she knows she’s gotta perform a miracle to get back on time. She has to return to her place, shower, get dressed, and apply her makeup all within the span of forty-five minutes. So she set a timer on her phone, painted a look of pure determination on her face, and took off like a rocket (while maintaining proper speed in order to avoid traffic violations.)

By some form of divine intervention, she accomplishes her goal with five minutes to spare. She zipped herself up inside her dress—an icy-blue, knee length dress with a semi-sweetheart neckline, spaghetti straps, and a shimmery, chiffon skirt—and slipped on her silver, strappy high heels, checking her makeup in the mirror one last time to make sure it was perfect. Her doorbell rang and she grabbed her crossbody purse, rushing off to answer the door.

“Hi,” she greeted Farkle happily as soon as she swung the door open. He looked very handsome in his navy-blue suit and silver tie and Riley felt her hands grow clammy.

This was starting to feel a lot like a date.

In fact, when she appeared in front of Farkle, his mouth dropped open as his eyes raked over her, and butterflies began fluttering around in her stomach at the notion of him checking her out.

“Uh, you look gorgeous,” he told her, Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat. He held a hand out to her, obviously trying to regain his cool (something she’s never known Farkle to have once in the entirety of her knowing him). “Ready to go?”

“Ready,” she nodded, grabbing his hand. His fingers laced with hers and she stepped out to shut and lock her door, following him down the hall and to his car afterward. They didn’t talk, but Riley didn’t mind it at all.

They arrived at the dance ten minutes after it began (they really didn’t mean to; The Backstreet Boys started playing on the radio and they had to jam out to it!) Riley smiled at all their hard work once they made it inside the gymnasium, happy to see it balanced out by the soft glow of disco lights they had placed all around. Iridescent snowflakes dangled from the ceiling, twirling around and shimmering playfully. Everyone looked wonderful in their formal outfits, all paired with huge grins just from having fun being out and around one another.

“Looks fantastic, Riles,” Farkle told her, nudging her gently with his elbow.

“I mean, I didn’t do all of it,” she shrugged, bashful, but Farkle shook his head.

“You still helped it look amazing. Anything Riley Matthews sets her mind to always turns out incredible.”

Riley wanted to squeal from embarrassment and giddiness from the compliments he was giving her, but she remained calm, instead tugging him towards the refreshments table. She scooped a cup of punch for him and then herself, and then they both stood off to the side of the gym in their own little area partially sequestered from the rest of the teachers. They made sure to do their job being chaperones, of course (high schoolers had a real knack for getting too close too one another for her comfort), but they also enjoyed themselves. Riley appreciated getting to spend quality time with Farkle, and he always knew how to make her laugh.

Then a slow song came on, one Riley could only call an indie slow dance song, and Farkle turned toward her with a sparkle in his eye that she couldn’t forget if she tried.

“Wanna dance?” he asked, his eyes bluer than a sky on a cloudless day. Riley could hardly find the words to say yes, so she nodded and allowed him to draw her out to the dance floor amongst the rest of the teenagers. He laid his hands on her waist while she hooked her arms around his neck and they swayed together rhythmically, their eyes never leaving one another’s.

“I feel silly dancing among all these teenagers,” she laughed.

“Do you wanna stop?” he asked.

“That’s the last thing I wanna do right now, Farkle Minkus,” she told him, her words soft as they left her tongue. Somehow, they had shifted closer to one another, and Riley could the ghost of Farkle’s breath on her cheeks.

“What’s the first thing you wanna do then?”

“I wanna kiss you,” she confessed, her eyes darting down quickly to his lips and then back up to his gaze. She wasn’t sure what had made her so brave but she was certainly glad for it, relieved to get that thought off her chest finally. And then Farkle said something that surprised her more than anything.

“I wanna kiss you, too.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Get the girl, Minkus,” she whispered to him. Farkle grinned and then leaned in, hovering for a second before pressing his lips against hers.

Nothing could have prepared her for the feeling of kissing Farkle Minkus—it was like electricity coursing through her system, all of her neurons firing off in her head at once. His fingers reached up to cup her face, the warmth of his hands burning an imprint into her skin.

Finally, her heart sang.

“Oh my god!” someone screamed behind them, causing them to break apart. Riley peered over Farkle’s shoulder and saw Penny standing there, pure elation on her face.

“Oh no,” Riley groaned into Farkle’s chest, and she felt the vibrations of his chuckle against her skin.

“I can’t believe I won the bet!” Penny continued, grinning ear to ear. Riley shot her a look of surprise.

“Wait, you guessed we’d get together at the winter formal of all things?”

Penny shrugged.

“I’m a romantic at heart. I had a good feeling about it.”

“Well, congratulations, Penny, but do you mind?” Farkle said. Penny turned red, sputtering a goodbye as she left them on their own. Riley laughed at the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

“What even are our lives?”

“The best ones out there, I’d wager. If I didn’t take this job, I’d never have met you, Riley Matthews,” Farkle told her.

“And I’d never have met you, Farkle Minkus. Guess life has a funny way of making things work out in the end,” Riley said.

Farkle agreed with her by pulling her in for another kiss, and Riley couldn’t help but think she had the best life in the entire universe.

#riarkle #riley x farkle #Riarkle fanfiction #riarkle fanfic

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