#I just read the third book of hooky
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...and this all happened by missing a magical school bus
#I just read the third book of hooky#it was great#I LOVED it#hooky#hooky webtoon#hooky dani#hooky dorian#hooky nico#monica hooky
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Too Sweet: Prologue
Matthew Sturniolo X Reader
A/N: I did a poll to see if y’all wanted this but I already had it written so it was a trick question 😌😌😌💕
Contains: literally nothing, no smut no fluff just story
TW: alcohol abuse?, drunk driving, existential dread
Matt is an optimistic do gooder on his way to Redwood University to start his masters degree. He’s far from home but he feels like the world is at his fingertips.
Cricket is a high school drop out going nowhere fast. She’s deeply unhappy with her job as a bartender at a tavern frequented by Dungeons and Dragons larpers.
They can’t help but feel drawn to each other, but is he too sweet for her?
This is what they were doing the morning of the day they met.
Y/N’s Pov
It’s 8 am on a Tuesday. I take a shot of fireball in preparation for my 12 hour shift at The Enchanted Mushroom Tavern and Inn. It is a belief commonly held that taverns and inns only exist in dungeons and dragons. This is false, as all well loved imaginary things come to life with time. That’s a fancy way of saying this place was built for people who LARP and I have to pretend I’m a medieval bar wench.
I squeeze myself into my costume that consists of an off white shirt with puffy off the shoulder sleeves, a mossy green skirt with a tattered and uneven hem, and a brown corset over top that I will note is Elizabethan and not medieval. The woefully inaccurate uniform isn’t the worst part of the job though. While at work my name is no longer Y/N it’s Petronella Epworth the fucking third and I wear the dumbass name tag to prove it.
“Let’s go, Phoebe!” I yell from our living room. I’ve never been a patient woman. Not even when we were kids. We met in kindergarten when she was hesitant going down the big slide at the park and I decided she was taking too long and pushed her. I’m bitch but I’m an insanely efficient, hardworking bitch that gets what she wants.
“Give me a minute!” She’s been working at the Tavern with me for a year and a half, and I’m always 15 minutes early for work. Because we carpool, she is always 15 minutes early for work, which has given her a reputation of reliability that she does not deserve. Phoebe has a few redeeming qualities to make up for her flakiness. When I need her, and she actually shows up, she’s unreasonably nurturing. One time, when I got sick after I dropped out of high school, she played hooky and stayed in my family’s trailer to take care of me. She brought ingredients for homemade soup and blankets. Nice blankets, too, the fleece ones that go on sale around Christmas time. The book she stole from her mother’s collection to read to me was the highlight of my week. It was called “My Alpha Mate.” The main character was an omega, and her love interest was an alpha. I think they were like werewolves or something. It was extremely smutty.
“I’ll just wait in the car, then!” There’s a loud thud as I close the front door. My van is objectively shitty. It’s a 1998 Nissan Quest that I’ve named Ted. I do, however, feel that if you’re 24 and own a van, you ought to be either a mother or a hippie with that cool Volkswagon. My vehicle doesn’t match me at all, but at least he carts around all the shit I own that doesn’t fit in my apartment. While I wait in the driver’s seat, I take a swig from the flask I keep in the car—fireball, of course, always fireball. I take a long look at myself in my rearview mirror and wonder what I’m doing with my life.
Matt’s Pov
It’s 8 am on a Tuesday and the sun is shining down on me through the sunroof of my car. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I already know it’s one of my brothers.
We’re triplets and have never been apart for more than 3 days at a time. When I was getting my bachelors degree they got an apartment two blocks away from my dorm. Chris and Nick never went to college and started a clothing brand called Fresh Love and a chapstick brand called Space Camp. Safe to say my lips are well moisturized. I’m actually wearing gray Fresh Love sweatpants right now. They’re very comfortable and perfect for long drives. I’m embarking on a 10 hour road trip to my new apartment near Redwood University where I will be studying for the next 5 years. My brothers think I’m absolutely insane for moving this far away from home.
“Chris, you know I hate answering the phone while I’m driving.” He does this on purpose to piss me off, but when I get into an accident because he divided my attention, he’s going to be sorry.
“Dude, did you know Red U’s mascot is a booby.”
“Yes, I did.” I most certainly did not know that.
Nick chimes in because, of course, Nick is there too. They’re never far apart. “Okay, but, listen to me when I say this, Matt, it’s a blue-footed booby at Red U.” He puts emphasis on blue and red. “Doesn’t that bother you? It bothers us!”
“Why on earth would that bother me? I’m not going for the sports anyway.” It bothers me a great deal. I can’t believe I have to rep the Redwood blue-footed boobies. This will surely tarnish the Sturniolo family name.
“Shut up!” says Chris. “I know it bothers you, and that’s why you have to turn that car around immediately and come back home.”
“Chrissy, I love you and Nick the most, but I have to go. I’ve got a scholarship and a once-in-a-lifetime internship.” Red U is home to one of the most prestigious research labs in America, and I have an internship there. It’s the whole reason I applied to the university; the scholarship was just an added bonus—the perks of being a straight-A student.
He groans, “I know. We know you’re going to go out and do great things.”
We’re just gonna miss our little Mattmallow,” adds Nick in that weird baby voice people use sometimes. My heart sinks at the use of my childhood nickname.
“I’m gonna miss you guys too.” More than I’ve missed anyone ever.
“Alright, man. I’m gonna leave you alone. I know you hate talking and driving,” Nick says, and I know he’s feeling a little uncomfortable.
“Love you, guys.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The line goes dead and I know I should feel some sort of sadness but really I just feel loved. I am deeply loved, my future is bright, and I feel like today is an omen.
Masterlist
Taglist
@wurlibydominicfike @yourmumscar69 @69isabella69 @mattsturniolosgf @mrsmiagreer since you guys liked the Too Sweet poll post
#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo imagine#sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo fanfic#matthew bernard sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo edit#sturniolo triplets smut#the sturniolos#Spotify
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binged read book 2 of hooky
and im trying my best not to cry.
i a m n u m b
Imma just saw the biggest things on my head now because theres no way I can put down all my thoughts for the entire book
DORIAN LEFT AH AH AH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY HEART STOP OMG THEY WERE GOING TO BURN HIM
BURN DORIAN
AHHHHHHHHHHHH OH MY GOODNESS
AND DANI
OH MY POOR SWEET DANI
HATING ON MRS. WYTTE RIGHT NOW WHAT THE FUCK WOMAN!?!?!?!?!? AND HANS IS DeAD AND DORIAN FEELS SO DAMN GULITY
AND WE HAVE WILLIAM AAAAAAAA AND DAMIEN KISSED HIM ITS CANON AH AH AHHHHHHHH
AND MONICA AND DORIAN OH HELP ME GOD PLEASE MY HEART IS HURTING ME OMGGGGGGG MONICA REJECTING WILLIAM AND WANTING TO BE WITH DORIAN BUT DORIAN SAYS GO MARRY WILLIAM AND THEY ALMOST KISSED *sob* help
AND THEN THEY GO TRY TO SAVE DANI BUT THEN THEY GET CAPTURED AND DORIAN WAS GOING TO DIE
BUT HE DIDNT CUZ IT WASNT HIM AND HE WENT BACK AND FOUND MONICA AND I SWEAR TO PENDRAGON STOP THEIR FACES THEIR EYES THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH BUT HE HAD TO GO WHYYYYYYYYYY
AND DANI
DANI WHATS HAPPENED TO YOU?!?!?!?!??!!?!?!? IS SHE OKAY?!?!??! WILL SHE BE OKAY?!?!?!?
AND IN THE BEGINNING WHEN THEY WERE IN THE HOUSE- AND EVERYONE HAD NIGHTMARES- DANI'S OH MY GODS MY CHILD I WANT TO HUG ALL OF THEM
AND DORIAN'S DUDE WAS ABOUT TO JUMP OFF THE ROOF THAT MUST'VE SCARED THE HELL OUT OF THE REST HELP
AND MONICA'S PARENTS ARE DEAD OHHHHHH SO GOD HELP ME THEY DIDNT DESERVE TO DIE WHAT
I FUCKING HATE WILLIAM'S DAD ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH HATE HATE HATEEEEEEEEEEEEEE AND I HATE DORIAN AND DANI'S MOM AND DAD SO MUCH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
i am going to cry help
i have the third book next to me, im going to go read it now before i start sobbing and die a painful death
goodbye
#help me#help me im dying#books have hurt me#hooky#hooky book#hooky webtoon#hooky dorian#dorian wytte#hooky monica#nico hooky#hooky dani#dani wytte
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I like your fanfic and we share some of the same ships. Do you have any book recs? My tbr list is long but I don't mind adding more books
firstly: thank you so much!!! secondly i have TONS of book recs. honestly i could’ve kept going but i was getting a little crazy so lemme stop here. thank you for asking!!!
fiction:
the lincoln highway by amor towles: bildungsroman, beautiful story, satisfying ending, long but worth it
ask again yes by mary beth keane: family drama, turning point halfway thru that made me gasp and screech
such a fun age by kiley reid: a Black babysitter gets stopped by a grocery store security guard and a video of it goes viral and a bunch of other stuff also happens. lots of really good discussions on racism. her other book that just came out this year was really good too!!!
fantasy/sci-fi:
the last binding trilogy by freya marske: finally read these a few months ago and i loved them so much 😭 great romance great characters exciting plot with high stakes FOUND FAMILY!!
silver under nightfall by rin chupeco (and the sequel court of wanderers)… vampire couple x vampire hunter throuple of my dreams what more can you want
ocean’s echo / winter’s orbit by everina maxwell: queer scifi romance!!!! stand-alones set in the same universe but both are great
station eleven by emily st. john mandel: this is a pretty well known book but it was GOOD! takes place in a post-apocalyptic world and centers on the importance of living as opposed to just surviving and also the beauty of creating and sharing art ❤️
romance:
cat sebastian writes really good queer historical romance, I’ve read like 6 of her books this year. we could be so good and the ruin of a rake are my favorites so far
lex croucher!!! she has three historical novels, one is a sapphic romance (I’ve only read two) and then she has a YA called Gwen & art are not in love that’s a queer Arthurian legend retelling
love hate & clickbait by liz bowery: m/m fake dating where the two MCs are politicians who kinda suck and are trapped in a PR stunt. a better red white & royal blue. i’ve read it like 3 times
sarah hogle is my oomf but also writes great romance. you deserve each other and just like magic specifically
the charm offensive by alison cochrun: the new bachelor falls for the producer of the reality show instead of his contestants. probably my favorite romance ever. also great asexual rep!!
horror:
the lost village by camilla sten: a group of people filming a documentary go to an abandoned village where everyone in the town just up and disappeared one day and were never seen again and weird stuff starts happening. i read this in like 2 days. also i based the town in the stoncy ghost files au off of this lmao
the whisper man and the shadows by alex north: crazy as fuck plot twists that made me close the book and run around my house. he has a third book too but unfortunately I didn’t like it very much
night film by marisha pessl: reporter obsessed with elusive director who’s daughter just mysteriously died investigates director and his family. very good mixed media element and very immersive
mister magic by kiersten white: child actors from children’s tv show mister magic — a tv show that ended suddenly and tragically, with no surviving video footage or evidence of the creative team behind the show whatsoever — gather together for a reunion as adults. kinda like if IT by stephen king was combined with a weird creeypasta and throw in some religious trauma also. sooooo good
graphic novels:
check please! by ngozi ukazu: duh
bubble by jordan morris: guardians of the galaxy esque but also a criticism of capitalism. very fun
hooky by miriam bonastre tur: i DEVOURED these last october. perfect cozy fall vibes. just a cute fun story. they’re technically for children but idc 😭 so many characters and i loved them all, i can’t wait to reread again in the fall
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CU Epilogue AU Chapter 2-The Red Ring
Chapter 2-The Red Ring
Mr. Krupp was tired.
He ended up getting home late at around 10pm and woke up at around 9am. The alarm on his potato alarm clock ended up completely broken. Hours were spent looking for an ideal gift for Edith on his smartphone, but all were in vain. Sadly, it wasn’t like he was able to play hooky. Otherwise, he would be spending the day going into town, shopping for a gift.
Mr. Krupp ended up skipping his inbox and headed straight for his office where he sat on his chair and slammed his head down on the desk. Reid had been waiting in the office the whole time reading her little book with a custom trident cover.
“Late again, I see?” She said, “You took so long I ended up having my third cup of decaf.”
“Yeah…”
“You look tired…again,” said Reid, examining the principal up and down.
“Well I wouldn’t be so tired if I wasn’t drinking decaf!” He shouted. “Is that stupid coffee maker fixed yet?”
“Still undergoing maintenance.”
“Then did you at least bring me instant coffee that’s actually regular??”
“Sorry, that’s all the coffee for today. You’d have to make a new carafe”
Mr. Krupp raised his head. “Oh yeah, I brought th’potato clock for ya t’fix. Can ya do me a solid?”
“Um…Of course.” Reid cleared her throat and took the clock. The potato looked about three times the size of a regular potato and it actually took two hands for her to pick it up.
“Thanks, Reid,” Krupp mumbled.
“Yeah, well, as stimulating as this conversation is, I have work to do and it looks like you have sleep to cut into your responsibilities, so I’m gonna go…bye!”
Mr. Krupp didn’t notice Reid leave, his eyelids growing heavier by the second. Just as soon as he was about to pass out… WHAM! His head hit the desk, violently waking him up.
Grumbling angrily to himself, he got up and stomped his way towards the teacher’s lounge where he passed by Mr. Meaner and Ms. Ribble. There was a strong aroma of coffee in the air, he had hoped it meant that somebody made more coffee and used regular coffee grounds. It was up until he overheard Mr. Meaner and Ms. Ribble that he knew that the smell was a trap.
“For being a sixth grader, Reid’s quite the coffee yeah-yeah-yeah connoisseur.” Said Mr. Meaner
“I know!” Exclaimed Ms. Ribble. “I’ve never seen such a large variety of decaf!”
Mr. Krupp didn’t exactly get the whole hype around everybody switching to decaf. He just wanted something regular to wake him up. As he scrounged about the coffee cabinet all he could find was Arabica Decaf, Columbia Decaf, Incredibly Expensive Blue Mountain Decaf, Breakfast Blend Decaf, Lunch Blend Decaf, Hot Cocoa, Lavender Tea…
“Why isn’t there any regular coffee?” Mr. Krupp whined.
“There’s Instant Avocado Tea in the back of the cupboard,” said Ms. Ribble.
“Does it have enough caffeine to wake me up?”
“I don’t think there’s caffeine in yeah-yeah-yeah avocados,” said Mr. Meaner.
“Then why was it invented in the first place?”
Nobody knows.
…………………………….
The bell rang for the end of First Period. Students were frantically scrambling about to get to their next class especially with Mr. Krupp patrolling the halls. There was something different about him. Everybody did notice that he was dragging his feet slightly, but they were too afraid of his particularly grumpy expression to let their guard down.
Even though it was just about to be 10am, Mr. Krupp was just about done with his day.
He suddenly noticed a glint in the corner of his eye.
A ring.
A red ring. In the middle of the hallway.
A lightbulb went off and his heart started to beat faster.
Maybe…just maybe…could it be….
Before he could finish the thought, Krupp quickly cupped the ring in his hands as he saw one student—he couldn’t tell who—peek out the classroom. A quick scowl managed to scare them away.
As soon as he was alone again, Krupp made a run for it into his office and slammed the door behind him.
His heart was pounding. This ring was clearly a sign. A sign that it was time to level up his relationship…
From the date-zone….into the engagement-zone. (He’s positive that the current generation is using that term but isn’t quite sure…)
He was smiling so hard that his cheeks almost started to cramp up. He was so giddy that he couldn’t stop jumping around in his office and not garner attention from Ms. Anthrope. His chair wouldn’t stop squeaking from the sheer amount of times he spun himself on it.
He could almost foresee himself and Edith signing the wedding papers at Town Hall.
But then he slapped himself and took a deep breath to calm himself down. This was WAY too good to be true.
On one hand, it’s a bit too early, isn’t it? This ought to be something best saved for the big Fifth Anniversary next year, right? It’s only a year away, after all. But on the other hand, his relationship may as well be down the toilet if nothing changes soon. Edith is bound to be equally as thrilled as he felt when he found the ring. So this is his big chance to change things up! So what if he’s unprepared to commit to this? His relationship is on the line! This was the big break he was looking for!
Then again this ring in particular was too small to fit on her finger. And getting a proper, pricey engagement ring within the day on the budget he has may be next to impossible to obtain. What if she said ‘no’? That would be hundreds of dollars wasted.
Then again—-
“Principal Krupp?”
“AAHH!!” Krupp exclaimed, accidentally throwing the ring in the air, not noticing where it went.
Edith had stopped by the office again.
“Edith! You…you came here early.” He said, quickly as he looked around the room searching for the ring.
“I actually came in earlier, but you weren’t here. Then I heard you probably overslept.”
“Just a fluke, won’t happen again” he poked his head up from looking in the file cabinets.
“Oh, thank goodness. I almost thought you were sick or somethin’. But look at you, all excited and everything.”
“Y-yeah me too!” Krupp’s answer didn’t quite make any sense, but Edith brushed it off.
“Actually,” Edith pipped in. “You look kinda busy. I’ll come by later with some avocado toast!”
Krupp screeched to a halt and walked up to her. “Do you by any chance have it now?” He asked with anticipation.
Edith pulled out a brown bag with Krupp’s name on it. “You know me!”
Krupp graciously accepted the bag with even greater anticipation and pulled out a toast slathered with his beloved guacamole. It even had a sunny side egg on top of it!
“It’s the least I can do since you’re the one who made the reservation for the restaurant.”
Krupp stopped before eating the first bite of his toast and started sweating again. Oh yeah! The reservations! He thought.
Krupp immediately started ushering Edith out the door. “Well, I guess we oughta get some of our work done. I got soooo many phone calls to make today!”
“R-right!” Edith answered promptly while exiting the door.. “I-I’ll leave you to it! See ya later!”
The door slammed shut, and Krupp let out a sigh.
“GAAHH! HOW COULD I FORGET TO MAKE THE RESERVATIONS!!” He shouted as he quickly ran to his desk and dialed the number for It’s Amore!
“H-hello? I’d like to make a reservation for tonight. Yes around 6?”
He then sat down on his chair, where suddenly…
*CRUNCH!*
Mr. Krupp jumped up in the air and looked back at his seat. It was the ring. He abruptly dropped the phone back onto the receiver and examined his ring from all sides. There was a slight crack at the top and noticed the sides had barely legible letters that he couldn’t make out.
“Oh good, it’s not that broken” He sighed in relief. At least it’s just a substitute and not the real thing.
Upon closer examination, he noticed there was something oddly familiar about this ring.
No.
He might have seen this exact one before, ages ago, but he can’t remember when. He could have seen it on a cereal box or inside a capsule toy dispenser. Or it could be one of those superhero rings they sell at comic book stores (not that he knows for sure).
Mr. Krupp looked intensely at the top of the unfortunately cracked face. But he couldn’t quite remember when he last saw a little red ring like this.
He ended up gripping the ring a bit tighter until…
*CLICK*
The ring’s spiral started to move and emit sparks.
Startled, Krupp threw the ring away. The ring bounced once with a CLACK and then started to hover above his desk, slowly orienting its face towards Krupp’s eyes, and finally fired a big red flash.
Krupp reflexively covered his eyes but they were still stinging from having seen something so bright. As he reopened his eyes, he saw that the ring was projecting a sort of glowing red, wobbly, spiral cone at him.
“Ok, so this toy has a gimmick,” the principal thought out loud. “Kinda weird, but no biggie. I just got to…”
Krupp rubbed his eyes again and realized that his whole office was melting away. The door. The cactus plant he placed on a shelf in the far corner. His accolades on the wall, even the clock on the wall behind him.
He then noticed that his desk was sinking into the floor and with a step backward, Mr. Krupp realized his foot was stuck in something like quicksand. He struggled to get out, but he kept sinking even faster. He reached out to his desk and clung on for his life hoping to stay afloat.
Above his head was the ring, still projecting the spiral at him. Mr. Krupp instinctively figured that this whole fiasco is happening because of this stupid toy. So he tried to grab it.
But he kept missing. Again and again. Krupp couldn’t tell where the ring was even though he was staring right at it. Again and again, his hand kept missing the ring as he felt like he was swiping right through it. He was starting to feel dizzy and even more drowsy at the same time. Again and again, he cried for help from Ms. Anthrope only to realize that he couldn’t hear his own voice. Again and again and again, the ring remained out of reach. Still he tried clawing at the air, hoping that everything was a nightmare, even as everything faded to black.
………………..
He didn’t realize this, but this whole mess actually had been a dream, right from when the ring first flashed into his eyes.
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Secrets Hurt–Steve Harrington
Do you ever get the feeling that someone is lying to you?
Steve and I have been dating for almost a year, but lately, something has changed. We were the typical high school couple. We'd tell each other everything and we were constantly together. At first, we were that annoying couple. Now, he seemed to be drifting apart.
He's been making up excuses, canceling dates last minute, sometimes not telling me he couldn't make it. Instead of spending all his time with me, he was spending it with a group of kids. Whenever I asked him why he suddenly started paying attention to them, he just shrugged and said he was trying to be nice.
Something else that's changed is he seems to be getting in a lot more fights. I tried to ask who he was fighting but he continued to tell me not to worry.
I walked out of school, instantly heading towards Steve's car. I faltered for a second when I saw him leaning against the hood of his car. I cleared my throat, tightened my arms around my books as I picked up my pace.
"Hey," I greeted. "Did you skip last. . ."
My question got stuck in my throat when he looked towards me. His face was bloody and he looked like he got the crap beat out of him.
"What happened?" I panicked. I dropped my books and ran to him. I gently grabbed his face and examined it. My heart sank when I saw numerous cuts and bruises, all of them bleeding.
"I'm fine."
"Don't!" I cut him off. I glared at him before shaking my head. "Steve, I'm only going to ask you once. Who did this to you?"
"It looks worse than it is," he tried to explain.
"No," I cut him off again. "Steve, tell me what's going on. What's really going on."
"What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about," I said, my voice breaking. "You've been keeping something from me for months."
"Y/N," he sighed.
I took a step back, pulling away from him before he could grab my hands.
"I can't do this anymore," I whispered.
He looked over at me with wide eyes. "What?"
"I just. . ." I stuttered.
"Y/N," he said quickly. He tried to reach for my hands, but I took another step back. "Please don't say what I think you're going to say."
"I'm sorry," I whispered. I cleared my throat as I slowly leaned down and grabbed my dropped school supplies. "Steve," I sighed, "I feel like your lying to me."
He opened and closed his mouth, struggling to tell me the truth. I shook my head, tears building up in my eyes.
"You can't even admit it."
I quickly turned on my heel and started running away from him as tears streamed down my face. I could hear him calling out to me, but that just made me run faster.
"Y/N! Please, come back! I'm sorry."
* * * * *
When I ran into my house, I went straight upstairs. Steve started calling my house, but after the third time of me not taking it, my mom figured it out. I stayed in my room all night and did my homework. Instead of forcing me to come downstairs to eat, my mom brought my dinner up to my room.
The next morning, Mom came in to check on me. She sighed when she saw me still in bed. She walked over and knelt next to my bed. She smiled as she reached up and ran her fingers through my hair.
"How about we take a sick day today?" She asked. "We can go shopping, get lunch, get our nails done?"
"I have a test on Monday," I mumbled.
"So?" Mom chuckled. "It's Friday. Let's play hooky."
"Mom," I groaned as I covered my head with the blanket.
"Y/N," she sighed, the tone of her voice changing. "I don't know what happened with you and Steve but there's nothing wrong with taking a mental health day. You need it, and I need some Mother-Daughter time."
I slowly pulled the blanket off my head. I looked up at her and smiled. "There's my girl," she whispered.
"Give me ten minutes."
After getting ready, we did everything my Mom said. We went to the mall, bought things neither one of us needed, grabbed lunch, got our nails done. For a few hours, I didn't think about Steve.
When we got home, Mom went back to her normal routine while I cuddled up on the couch and read a book. I jumped when someone knocked on our front door. Barely thirty seconds later, the knock repeated but this time more forcefully.
"Y/N?" My mom called from the laundry room. "Can you get the door, sweetie?"
"Got it!" I called back. I put my book on the coffee table before heading towards the door. I wasn't prepared for what I found on the other side of it.
"Steve?" His name got caught in my throat when I opened the door to see him standing there.
It's only been less than a day since I walked away and he had changed so much. There were bags under his eyes, his shoulders looked slumped, and even his hair didn't have its usual "Steve fluff".
"Can we please talk?"
* * * * *
Steve and I went to our favorite hiking trail. Whenever we needed to be alone or one of us needed to vent, we always drove out here. Usually, we hiked up the mountain and sat at our favorite picnic table, but this time, Steve didn't get out of his car.
I waited patiently for Steve to open up. Once he finally did, I couldn't believe what he was saying. After Steve finished explaining everything, I felt a little lightheaded.
It was crazy. Missing people. A large creature. The Upside Down. It was so crazy it had to be true.
"There it is," he sighed. "All of it. I swear that's everything that's been going on. I didn't mean to lie to you. I just. . . I thought I was protecting you. We've lost people and people have gotten hurt. I couldn't let that happen to you."
I cut him off by leaning over and pressing my lips to his. I felt him let out a sigh of relief before he grabbed my face and deepened the kiss. Our lips immediately moved in sync. When neither one of us could breathe, Steve broke the kiss. Instead of pulling all the way back, he leaned his forehead against mine.
"I'm so sorry I lied to you," he whispered. "I thought I was protecting you. I didn't mean to push you away."
"It's okay," I whispered. He smiled at me as he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on my cheek.
"Wanna go for a walk?"
We were quiet as we hiked up the mountain with our hands intertwined. When we got to our usual table, we sat on the bench, with our back to the table, as we looked at the view. I sighed as I leaned my head on his shoulder.
"I need you to promise me something."
"Anything," Steve said quickly. I sat up and turned towards him.
"No more lies," I said as seriously as I could. "Please, Steve. The next time something big happens, I want to help."
He opened his mount to object but I cut him off. "I know you said you want to protect me, but I can't sit back knowing you're putting yourself in danger and not at least help. I want to be right by your side, fighting whatever crazy thing you fight next."
Steve leaned down and pressed his lips delicately to mine. He broke the kiss and smiled down at me.
"I promise," he whispered. "Next time something supernatural comes to Hawkins, we'll fight it together."
#steve harrington#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington x reader#joe keery#joe keery imagines#joe keery x reader#joe keery POV
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A/N: I just want to say, for my OG readers that have been reading this since I first posted the headcanon list last year, I love and appreciate y’all so much!! If you want, since this is a long term project, I can add you to the tag list if you like :)
Also Letter commission’s are open until 3/10, so if your interested, price and info are here.
Based on this Headcanon list (x) : Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! <This is Part 4!>
You sigh, eyes glancing back at your watch.
Maybe it’s off?
You wouldn’t put it past Fred to screw up the time on your watch just so you would show up an hour early to your class, wondering if it was always this dark at eight in the morning.
But if Fred did mess with your watch, how does that explain everyone else? You turn to your right and look at a group of third and fourth years scattered around the room. Surely he couldn’t have changed the time in everyone’s watch.
Though at this point you know better than to assume anything is impossible for Fred Weasley, especially if he’s able to get George on board with his pranks.
You sigh, eyes sweeping over the room again. The chatting has long died down, now it looks like all those late nights in the common room playing exploding snap are finally beginning catching up.
Especially when the class was missing the particularly loud and somewhat entertaining antics of the one and only, Gilderoy Lockhart. It wasn’t that it was particularly fun to watch his nonsensical lessons or anything- but at least it was something to watch. And as long as you were barley competent, you could get by just fine on the “pop quizzes” he had. Though they were really more like magazine quizzes about how well you knew him.
Plus he was pretty good looking, though you would rather die than admit that to Fred or George.
Speaking of your favorite pair of doppelgängers-
You turn to look at your side, the two chair next to you on the long bench are vacant. Well, it’s not like it’s totally unusual for them to skip class. You can count on one hand how many times they’ve been excited to come to defense against the dark arts this year. But-
But... they usually invite you when they do decide to play hooky.
Maybe they didn’t invite you because you’re always persuading them to come to class instead. ‘You don’t want a howler from your Mum now do you?’ You would say, pushing them towards the class.
Maybe they just don’t think you’re fun to be around anymore. No, no, they’re your friends- you can’t start thinking like that, there must be a good reason why-
“Hey (Y/N/N)” George squeezes past you, plopping into the chair next to you with a soft rattle.
His hair’s sticking every which way, his robe is crooked, and his tie isn’t even tied, just hanging limply along his neck.
“You don’t even have your bag George” you hiss, did he finally get into a fist fight with Draco Malfoy? You’ve told them both not to think too hard about how he called you-
“Wait where’s Fred?” You look to the door, expecting to see a messy head of fire red hair walk through the door, sporting bruises and maybe a grin like his black eye is a gold medal.
But instead, there’s a familiar head of golden hair standing in the doorway. It’s Gilderoy Lockhart. There’s no doubt about it, the image of him is perfect. Of course it’s your professor.
Of course it is.
But there’s something about the way he carries himself? Like he’s still getting used to having legs so short. The way his smile seems a little more...mischievous than usual, that twinkle of absolute delight in those strangely familiar eyes.
“Oh no” you mumble, but George grins from beside you.
“I’m not going to be needing my bag, and neither are you” George whispers in your ear, and you turn to look at him.
They didn’t.
“Good afternoon class, sorry I’m late! I was admiring myself in one of my thirty mirrors and the time just...got away from me.” ‘Professor Lockhart’ says flashing his class the most condescending smile you have ever seen.
“That’s not a lie you know, we did find him admiring himself in the mirror” George whispers, your face is in your hands but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s got a pleased grin on his face.
“It’s why it was so easy to knock him out and shove him into the teachers lounge- he never even saw it coming”
Well at least they didn’t shove him into a broom closet.
“Now class, I would like you to write a list of things you love about me-“ there’s a collective groan and the rustle of parchment but neither you and George don’t move a muscle.
“Four feet at least!” Fred, in his Lockhart-skin-suit bellows, which earns another collective groan from the rest of the class.
“So what, did you draw the short stick, why aren’t you up there?” You ask jerking your head towards Fred, it looks like the more fun part of the prank honestly. It also seems like the sweetest m form of revenge after old Gildy gave you three detention last week for showing up late to class, but you won’t mention that.
George only shrugs.
Honestly ninety percent of this situation was Fred’s poor impulse control. One second they were running late to class, and George was worrying about getting detention because if he has to scrub all those awards for Filch again he won’t be able to hold a quil - and the next thing he knows he’s carrying Lockhart by his feet into the teachers lounge.
“He’s the showman, I’m just the side kick.” George shrugs, it’s been that way since they were kids. Fred would come up with an idea and George would follow his lead.
Not that he’s upset about it. It’s always interesting, he’s hasn’t been bored in years. Still, he can’t help but wonder if they didn’t share the same face, would he and Fred be as close as they are now?
Or would he be just as easily replaced, most likely by Lee Jordan. Well Ron might make a more susceptible accomplice, would anyone do-
“And where would our fearless leader be without his trustworthy sidekicks?” You say, a hint of a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. Your voice drawing George out of his thoughts.
“Probably in detention” You muse, that or jail, because technically they assaulted their professor, and that’s got to be a serious offense.
George laughs next to you, well you’ve got a point. If it wasn’t for you and him, you three would have been expelled long ago. He’s about to lean over and whisper something in your ear when some interrupts him mid motion.
“Weasley and (L/N), less flirting and more quil movement, yes?” He really sounds like Fred right there, a hint of an accent peaking through. Not that anyone other than you and George seem to notice. They’re all too busy contemplating how embarrassing it must be to get called out for not paying attention by Gilderoy Lockhart of all people.
You manage to not roll your eyes, sifting through your bag until you pull out some parchment.
“Geez four feet? That’s kind of excessive” you mumble while George is holding back laughter so violent he’s actually shaking.
“You know he’s just teasin’ right? It’s not like Lockhart’s actually going to grade these-“ and then a horrible realization dawns on him.
Half of the reason they thought this plan would work is because someone as pompous as Gilderoy Lockhart would never admit that two teenage boys hit him over the head with one of his books, and shoved him on a sofa (after tying his shoe laces together).
No, good old Gildy would go along like nothing had even happened, perhaps he’d even believe that nothing had really happened. Not enough sleep and too much caffeine do result in memory loss. And who can sleep with ‘the heir of Slytherin’ on the loose?
Ordering-sorry, assigning them to write four feet worth of parchment about what they admire about their professor sounds exactly like something he would do.
“Fucking Fred.” George hisses, why did he bloody have to pick four feet? Wouldn’t just one foot have sufficed? But no, the great Fred could never- ‘it adds enthusiasm, it’s all about the drama’ he would say.
Well where’s your god damn drama now that your best friend and brother are about to fail this god forksaken class, all because you couldn’t say one foot instead of f*cking four, George wants to scream.
You sigh, cutting your parchment in half, handing one half to George. You’ve only got four feet on you, you didn’t think you would need any more than that, so the both of you are just going to have to turn in two feet each.
“Sure would be a shame if Fred came back to the dorm and found, oh I don’t know, fifty spiders in his bed” you muse as you pull out two quills, and a bottle of ink. You’ve only got the one bottle, you’ll have to share.
But George isn’t paying any mind to the ink and parchment situation, instead he’s grinning at your suggestion. He always knew you had a wicked streak.
“Yeah it would be a real shame if say, two people were to go down to Hagrid’s hut, collect some drool from Fang, and smear it all over Fred’s robes” You peer at George from the corner of your eye, trying to hide your smile behind your hand.
“Oh well now wouldn’t that just be awful, hypothetically of course” You say, looking down to your parchment
“Truly a tragedy” He responds with a grin.
#harry potter imagine#harry potter#fred and goerge weasley#Fred and George Weasley imagine#Fred Weasley imagine#george weasley imagine#Fred Weasley x reader#george weasley headcanon#george and fred weasley#george weasley x reader
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Two broken hearts with matching sides - Chapter 2
Summary: Freed and Laxus were inseparable friends, they always spent their days together ever since they were children, so much so that they were considered indivisible. That’s why everyone was surprised when during the last year of high school, the two boys no longer spoke a word from one day to the next. That’s why everyone was surprised when Freed left for Germany and Laxus knew nothing about it. After three years the two will be forced to see each other again, and for a period to live under the same roof. [Freed/Laxus]
Link: AO3
Here you can find Chapter One.
How relationships change
Eventually Freed stopped by their apartment. Laxus knew this because he had heard him talking to Bickslow and Evergreen from his room. He avoided him though. In fact, they avoided each other. When Laxus was with the two friends, Freed was locked in his room, and when Freed did, it was Laxus who locked himself away not wanting to have anything to do with him. Or rather, unable to bear the presence of the old friend.
For three whole years they hadn't heard from each other, Freed hadn't even sent him half a text, no calls. He had just gone and apparently had told Bickslow and not him. And Laxus still remembered how bad he'd been when he found out.
He remembered all the calls he had made, calls that had been ignored by Freed. He remembered all the unanswered messages. He had made a fool of himself for someone he considered his friend, for someone who treated him exactly like his father did, just by walking away and not giving a damn about what he left behind.
And that's just for a… Laxus didn't want to think about it, because if he thought about it, he realized that maybe, maybe, it was he who had ruined everything. That didn't mean Freed didn't blame him. The bastard was gone, and he hadn't even given him the opportunity to explain himself.
Laxus felt the irritation rise again, especially as he listened to the voices of the three boys on the other side of the wall. From what he understood, Freed intended to find another apartment, but Laxus knew it wasn't going to be easy. By now all the students must have already booked, so either Freed took one himself if he had the money - and he probably gave it that he had decided to go to rich daddy in Germany - or he would settle for cheap shit. Laxus just hoped he’d leave quickly so he wouldn't have to see him again.
Or that Freed would make up his mind to talk to him, explaining what the fuck was going through his head. He quickly pushed that thought away, not wanting to delude himself. Evidently, if he had been ignored for three years, Freed didn't give a shit about him. He certainly wasn't going to start now.
There was a knock on the door, and shortly thereafter Bickslow's head appeared from behind the door.
“Hey, would you like to take a walk downtown?” he asked.
“No” the answer came immediately. Laxus didn't want to go out with Freed. He seemed to have made it clear, but apparently the two friends were meddles who didn't understand shit, or didn't want to understand. Why the hell couldn't they just go about their business and leave it alone? He had almost forgotten Freed, and because of them, now he couldn't do it anymore. Because Freed was under his own roof.
“There isn’t Freed. He goes out with Ever,” Bickslow said.
“Anyway, I don't feel like it.”
“Not even if I buy you dinner?” the friend asked. Laxus didn't answer, honestly, he wasn't in the mood. He hadn't been for days, precisely since Freed had set foot in that apartment. No matter how hard he tried to avoid him, it was difficult to do so in such a small space. He was fortunate that Freed spent a lot of time in the library and that he never dined there.
“Come on,” Bickslow insisted.
“I want the double cheese pizza,” Laxus said, standing up.
“Gone,” Bickslow replied.
Soon after, the two went out downtown, heading towards the park where he and Freed always played hooky to skateboard. Not that there was a place that didn't remind him of Freed in Magnolia. They had spent years there, going around all corners, having fun like the kids they were. But if over time Laxus got used to it and managed to push those melancholy memories into a corner of his mind, now that Freed was back, he couldn't do it anymore.
The mood hit him again and as soon as they arrived at the park, Laxus lit a cigarette, hoping that it would help him calm down. It didn't work the way he wanted, unfortunately. Bickslow kept talking until two people caught his attention. Freed and Evergreen, at the bar in the middle of the park.
“Bickslow... I said don't get in the way,” the blonde told him, interrupting whatever his friend was talking about.
“They don't know we're here and we can leave if you want,” Bickslow said. “Can I just know what happened? You were inseparable…” he tried.
“No”.
Bickslow was silent and Laxus let his gaze wander towards Freed, feeling a new nervousness rise. The boy had taken an ice cream croissant, the same one he always took even in high school. Why did he have to get hit by those things? Laxus looked away but when he did, he saw the skatepark he and Freed spent hours on.
He fucking hated him. Why the hell was he back? Couldn't he have stayed in Germany with his rich daddy instead of going back there? Maybe because it had all been a game for Freed. Or maybe because a three-year journey was enough to forget him and move on. Or maybe he was still pissed about how Laxus had behaved three years ago.
In any case, whatever had happened, Freed had moved on. He didn't want to see it, he didn't care, he didn't even want to discuss it. It was just Laxus still thinking of him, pathetic as ever. And he hated himself for it. And he hated Freed for it.
“You two should talk,” Bickslow said.
“No”.
“I’m saying it for you,” the friend insisted.
“Maybe I wasn't clear,” Laxus began letting all his irritation shine through, because he was sure he would punch Bickslow in the face if he continued with that pantomime. He was unable to continue though because a third voice woke him from his thoughts.
“Guys, I finally see you” Gildarts greeted them “You arrived at just the right time. I’ve these packages to unload,” he said pointing to the truck full of cartons, probably full of drinks. Laxus snorted but forced himself to get up, knowing full well that complaining would do no good. Better get the job done right away and then get some free beers.
“You're a profiteer,” Bickslow said instead, but Gildarts smiled at them friendly.
“And you spent your whole adolescence getting me damned like a madman,” the man recalled.
The three each took a package and walked towards the bar. Laxus carefully avoided Freed's gaze, hoping the boy would leave as he always did, but Gildarts obviously screwed it up.
“Freed? You're back? Nobody told me anything” the man asked surprised, placing the cardboard on the ground to greet the boy. Laxus was forced to stop and only because he didn’t have the keys to the warehouse, which were in the hands of the man. He just hoped Gildarts would hurry.
“Hi,” Freed greeted him. “I've only been back a few days ago,” he explained kindly.
“I'm not surprised to see you here, I remember that you and Laxus spent hours skating and getting me damned like a madman” commented the man. The two concerned stiffened but said nothing. Laxus reached out to get the keys from Gildarts but he couldn't. “Maybe I should get you to work too, so as to take revenge for the swing you and Laxus destroyed.”
“Can we go into the warehouse?” Laxus asked slightly annoyed. The last thing he wanted was to start a chat about old times.
Gildarts handed him the deck, while Freed replied to the man telling him that at the moment he had other things to do. The blond thus managed to get away from there, not without hearing Gildarts remembering the old days, unaware that Laxus and Freed no longer spoke to each other. The warehouse wasn't far from them, so the blonde could hear the whole conversation.
“So, you live with Laxus, I'm not surprised. Some things never change” the man said cheerfully.
“Everything changes” was Freed's somewhat cold reply which, despite everything, sent a pang of anguish to Laxus's stomach. “And I'm looking for another apartment. Indeed, if you’ve to recommend me some places I’d be grateful”.
Laxus couldn't see how Gildarts reacted, but he bet he must have a pretty surprised look on his face. Obviously. Like anyone who knew them in high school. If someone had told him three years ago that he was going to fight Freed he would never have believed it.
***
“You can't handle alcohol at all,” Laxus laughed almost with tears in his eyes. Freed was trying to read something, but he was constantly swallowing the words and getting them wrong. The boy snorted and put the paper on the ground. Indeed, the friend wasn’t completely wrong. His head was spinning terribly, and he knew he wasn’t at the height of his mental faculties. Laxus's fault, however, he had proposed a drinking challenge.
“You're drunk too,” Freed said pointing a finger at him. Laxus laughed and Freed chuckled, he wasn't sure why he was doing it, but it looked funny.
The two were at Lucy's house. The girl had organized a birthday party for her, and she had invited all of her friends. Cana had brought a couple of bottles of vodka and dipped the gummy candies into a bowl by soaking them in alcohol. Freed had eaten a lot of them, found them good, and Bacchus, a guy who had sneaked into the party, had brought more drinks. And Freed had drunk them, perhaps stupidly.
“Shall we go out for a moment?” Laxus proposed, standing up. Freed nodded and stood up, but as soon as he did, his head spun and almost fell. Almost, because Laxus caught him on the fly but he too must have had little balance because they fell on a nearby sofa, bursting out laughing again.
“You're drunk” Evergreen said disgusted pushing them away and the two fell to the ground, still embraced and with their legs intertwined.
“And you're boring,” Freed said trying to sit up again, and avoid thinking about how good it was to be so attached to Laxus. With alcohol in his body, however, it was difficult not to, and drunk Laxus was much more physical than normal. In fact, as soon as they were both seated on the floor, the blonde leaned on his shoulders with a grin.
“Exactly. Boring,” he repeated. Freed nodded with conviction and Evergreen rolled his eyes.
“And you two are unbearable when you team up. Get out of here, go annoy somebody else,” she told them. Laxus stood up and held out a hand to Freed, who immediately accepted it so as not to fall again. The two stood up and giggling at something that only they understood, came out of the sitting room.
They walked down the hall, passing Gajeel and Levy who were making out great in a corner thinking they weren’t seen, and passed Loke who was doing a striptease on a table trying to attract the attention of as many girls as possible.
It took them longer than expected, because they both had little balance and leaned on each other. Before they could leave Jenny walked over to Laxus and took his face in her hands.
“You're drunk,” she said worriedly. The blonde chuckled and leaned even more against Freed.
“And you're boring,” he replied.
“Hey,” Jenny complained, but she wasn't particularly offended, probably realizing that Laxus didn't understand what he was saying. “Really, you can't walk around like this alone.”
“I'm with Freed,” the blond objected.
“He's drunk too,” she said.
“We’re just tipsy” retorted the person concerned. Jenny looked at him skeptically but Laxus nodded in agreement with his friend.
“Exactly. We're just tipsy,” he repeated and chuckled. Jenny rolled her eyes.
“Where are you going?”.
“Where are we going?” Laxus asked, turning to Freed, still with his arm wrapped around him to stand upright. Freed smiled.
“To get some air”.
“To get some air,” Laxus repeated turning to Jenny, who was looking at him worriedly. But then Hibiki grabbed her by the arm and told her that they were organizing a dance competition and she had to participate. He dragged her away without her being able to complain and Laxus and Freed walked back towards the exit.
They reached it but as soon as they were there, Freed forgot about the steps and slipped, dragging Laxus with him. The two found themselves lying between the steps and the grass of the lawn. The blonde laughed in his ear and Freed felt his face flush, but he too burst into uncontrolled laughter. They struggled to their feet.
“Where do we go?” Laxus asked.
“Let's go get ice cream in the park,” Freed replied.
“Nice idea,” the blond said and the two set off.
Luckily Lucy didn't live far from the park, and luckily there were no cars on the streets. They reached it and as soon as they got there, they realized that the Gildarts’ bar was closed. The two, however, had already lost interest in ice cream, and in agreement, without even speaking, they headed for the skatepark. Unfortunately, they didn't have skateboards, so they sat on the ground on the grass. They were silent for a few seconds, trying to recover from the hangover, at least as much as they could.
“Have you already had sex with Jenny?” Freed asked suddenly, morbidly curious and hoping the two hadn't done anything. Laxus turned to him and shook his head.
“Nah,” he replied. Freed felt the relief in his stomach and smiled as he lay on the ground, placing his hands behind his head and staring at the dark sky above him. Now that he was out in the open air and that he had walked, he was already feeling better. He didn't know if it made sense, but it seemed to him that the hangover was a bit over. Just a little, because he was still dizzy.
He turned to Laxus and watched as he tried to light a cigarette with little success. Freed found himself staring at him more than he normally would, completely in love with the sight. Good heavens, Laxus was so beautiful it was impossible not to fall in love with him.
‘Crush’ thought the boy. Being in love was too much. Freed wasn't in love, he just had a huge crush on his best friend. And a crush passed in no time. And even though it had been going on for so many months now, Freed persisted in telling himself that it would pass. Because obviously it would pass. Laxus was dating Jenny, and even if his friend didn't seem very interested in her, another girl would come anyway.
Laxus finally managed to light his cigarette and turned to Freed.
“But she gave me a blow job,” he said. Freed forced a smile but when he was drunk, he couldn't lie. He therefore remained silent not knowing what to say. “Has anyone ever done it to you?” Laxus asked.
“No”.
“Well, you should find a girl to do it for you,” Laxus commented.
Freed found himself blushing when the idea of the friend doing certain things to him crossed his mind. He chased it away, he couldn't think of Laxus like that! That was already too much.
“A boy,” escaped his lips. Laxus turned to him in surprise and Freed found himself blushing even more. Damn alcohol. “Nothing,” he laughed embarrassed. Laxus didn’t answer and continued to smoke in silence, without looking at him. For a couple of minutes Freed tried to recover, trying to control his heartbeat and not linger too long to look at his friend. He just hoped that Laxus was so drunk that he couldn't remember anything the next morning.
“Maybe a boy would be better,” Laxus said after a while. Freed turned to him with wide eyes. Had he heard right or was it his imagination?
Laxus finished smoking and crushed the cigarette butt under his shoe. He lay down beside him and turned to look at him. Freed became aware of their proximity, he could feel his friend's thick breath of smoke and alcohol on his face. Again, his heart began to pump faster. Perhaps for the alcohol or perhaps for the speech, he was able to take courage and ask what he wanted to ask him for too long now.
“You like boys?” he asked in a low voice. Laxus shrugged.
“You?” he asked and Freed almost felt his heart burst in his chest. Maybe… maybe he had a chance.
“Yes,” he replied in a whisper. Laxus looked at him without saying anything. Freed hoped the blond would tell him something, maybe tell him he liked boys too. The friend, however, didn’t speak. He kept staring at him strangely, and Freed didn't know what to think.
That was until Laxus pushed towards him. Uncertain and awkward he put their lips together and Freed immediately felt a rush of excitement rising from his stomach. For a moment he remained motionless and incredulous, and only shortly after he closed his eyes and went towards his friend. He moved his lips slightly, and Laxus cocked his head without moving away. They kissed for only a few seconds, and when they parted, they both looked surprised and red in the face.
Freed didn't believe it. Laxus had kissed him. A whirlwind of emotions was running through him, so strong that he was feeling high. Even more than it had been up to two seconds before with alcohol in the body. The blonde reached out and gently moved his hair behind his ear. Freed dared neither move nor speak, lest he break the moment.
Then Laxus pushed back towards him and again their lips joined in a second kiss.
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Idk if youre still taking prompts but could you do one where peter thinks hes got the stomach flu and tries to tell people at school and at the tower but they all think hes trying to get out of tests and training. He ends up getting really sick and hides in his room cuz nobody wants to be around him since they think hes lying. It ends up being friday who convinces tony the kid isnt faking
thank you for another prompt! I actually almost declined it (I’m not a huge fan of the Boy Who Cried Wolf scenarios, especially with Peter) but I got randomly inspired. this is my first posted fic, so please be gentle lol
Peter Parker/MCU Sickfic
MCUtopia AU (basically canon except everyone survives Endgame)
__________
six words you never understood
“Hey, Ned,” Peter whispers. “do I- uh, do I feel warm to you?”
The two are seated in the front row of their first period class. Ned is juggling a handful of color-coded Spanish flashcards and taking deep, labored breaths (in through your nose, out through your mouth, Ned). Peter leans close to him as he speaks, freeing one of his best friend’s hands from the notes and attempting to bring it to his own forehead.
“Wha-” Ned pulls away just before the contact. “What are you doing, man?”
“I feel weird,” Peter mumbles through a tight jaw. It’s a bit of an understatement, but he really isn’t sure how else to phrase it. This morning, he felt weird; now, he’s got an unsettling ache in his limbs and the daunting taste of breakfast lingering beneath his tongue.
Ned looks confused - almost worried - for a second before his expression changes. “Oh, Hell no… Peter, you are not leaving me here to do this presentation alone!”
“I- What?” Peter glances at the mess of rainbow card-stock, then back to his friend, exasperated. “I won’t, but-”
“You look fine to me.”
“I feel sick, Ned.” As if on cue, a sickly burp rises in Peter’s throat. He lets out a quiet gasp, pressing a fist to his lips to stifle it. Ned doesn’t seem to buy it, though, and Peter can’t really blame him. He felt the same way this morning: Oh, this kind of stuff still happens.
“¿Estás nervoso?”
“Nervioso,” Peter corrects. “But, no-”
“See? Nothing to be worried about!” Ned exclaims, cheerful and borderline obnoxious. His eyes widen suddenly, and he picks up a neon green index card between his fingers. He flips it back and forth, then, “Me, on the other hand…”
“Leeds? Parker?” A stern, clear voice rouses Ned from his pre-hysteria. “¿Estás listo?”
“Oh, God.”
_____
It’s a miracle they make it through the four-minute presentation. Ned was surprisingly quick to get his stuttering under control, and once he did, Peter found it easy to hide behind his enthusiastic explanations and the flashy PowerPoint the duo had put together the week prior. They ended up getting a B (Ned isn’t that great at Spanish and Peter wasn’t much help), but the two were content with that, all things considered. Peter’s luck, unfortunately, was short-lived.
He extends a trembling hand to flush the toilet, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater as an extremely agitated “C’mon, man!” erupts from outside the stall. Peter hauls himself into a standing position with the help of some superhuman strength and a grip on the empty toilet paper dispenser. He mumbles a quiet “Sorry,” as he stumbles into the bathroom’s common area. Stopping at the sinks on his way out, Peter watches the cold water pool into his cupped hands with a dazed expression. When he remembers, he splashes his face with it, taking a second handful into his sour mouth and sloshing it around. He spits it out and grimaces.
Peter had spent the remaining two periods before lunch slipping in and out of not-so-subtle naps and texting Ned beneath his desk to try and keep himself sane. He’d completely given up on him by the third but, you’re spider-man text though. The worse he feels, the less he cares to convince Ned there’s something wrong. He obviously isn’t getting it, and Peter no longer has the energy to argue.
As soon as he takes his first wobbly step out of the overcrowded boy’s bathroom, he bumps – quite literally – into MJ, who remains firm after the collision, grasping Peter’s forearm with both hands to steady him.
“Holy shit, Peter.”
“I. uh-” Peter sighs, running a hand over his face. He no longer needs confirmation on the fever; he can feel it radiating off his own skin. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. “I was looking for you anyway.”
Peter glances up at her. He can’t read anything from her expression (he never can), so he just lets her finish.
“Happy’s here.”
“What?” Peter takes a few minutes to process the sentence. First, he’s caught off guard by the fact that MJ knows Happy by name, but this bewilderment is quickly overcome by wait, Happy’s here?
“What?” He repeats, but it’s no longer directed at her. He pulls his phone from his pocket, scanning over the multitude of notifications littering his lock screen.
Happy :) : I’m outside.
Happy :) : Peter.
Happy :) : Do I need to sign you out?
Happy :) : PETER
Happy :) : If I have to get off this car…
6 missed calls from Happy :)
Peter blinks, the light from his phone intensifying a headache he apparently hadn’t even noticed until now. He locks the phone, shoving it back into his pants and dashing past MJ with whatever speed he can muster. He catches her shoulder with his backpack.
“Sorry!” he shouts through gritted teeth, at the same time she calls out “Peter!”
He skids to a stop, turning clumsily to face her.
“Take it easy, okay?”
Peter nods, continuing his race to the Student Pick-Up area. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his feverish cheeks as he runs. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was worried.
_____
“You… forgot…”
“Happy, I’m so sorry.” Peter pants. He’s outside the black sports car now, doubled over with his hands on his knees, panting at the road beneath his feet. It seems to sway under his weight, so he closes his eyes to regain balance. “I’ve just- I’m kinda sick, and-”
Happy raises a finger to his lips to silence Peter. It seems like everyone’s doing that today. He unlocks the car and grumbles, “Get in. If Tony asks, we stopped to get gas.”
Peter takes the invitation gratefully, sliding lazily into the backseat. His book-bag lands on the car floor with a thud, and his aching body collapses onto the seat with a similar weight. Happy’s words don’t really sink in until they’ve been driving for a few minutes. “Wait, why are we lying to Mr. Stark?”
“Let’s just say it’s not one of his best days.”
Peter snakes an arm around his abdomen, leaning his face against the car window with a deep sigh. “That makes two of us.”
_____
“Mr. Stark,” Peter swallows.
In the five-minute walk from the parking lot to Mr. Stark on the compound’s first floor, Peter’s condition has completely tanked. The headache he’d been sprouting on the ride over has now evolved into a sharp stabbing behind his eyes, making him dizzy and unbelievably nauseous. The reasonable part of Peter’s sick brain can tell he still has a fever, but most of him is just focused on how cold he is, the hair on the back of his neck and arms standing with chills. “I don’t feel so good.”
Tony shoots the kid a glare, and he immediately retracts his choice of words. “Sorry.”
The two are standing just behind the large glass doors that lead to the biggest open grass in the compound. They always train here when there’s a large group, Tony had said. It’s been a while, he’d also said; he wasn’t sure they’d ever train like this again. Peter wants to smile at the irony as he watches Captain America tighten the straps of his shield around his arm, still in otherwise-regular clothes. Peter would be ecstatic if he didn’t feel so awful. Tony taps the glass to point at where Thor is standing. He’s not really doing anything, just looking around.
“You ready for that?”
Peter almost gasps. Eagerness sprouts in the pit of his stomach, bubbling up his throat at the idea. Training with the God of Thunder! Officially meeting Thor? Peter’s almost lost in his fantasies before the butterflies make him feel sick again. “Uh oh.”
“C’mon kid,” Tony smiles, patting Peter’s back. The force of it makes Peter cough, but he muffles it into his sleeve. “There’s no reason to be nervous. He’s only a God.”
Peter gulps.
“Pete,” Tony laughs, turning to face him. “I’m just kidding. It’s only sparring.”
“No, I- I know.” Peter hiccups. “I just really don’t think I’m up to this.”
Tony looks confused – and a little annoyed, Peter notices.
“Why not?”
“I’m sick.” Peter says, feeling small.
Tony gives him a weird look. “You’re… sick?”
“I know, apparently-”
“Are you trying to play hooky, Spider-Man?”
“Mr. Stark, no, I- I wouldn’t,” Peter trips over his words. He knows he’s not in the wrong here, but something about Tony’s tone makes him nervous.
“Bold choice,” Tony continues. “considering you’ve never hesitated to fight impaired before. Like that time… what was it? The time you let me annihilate you in a three-hour training session without telling me your wrist was broken. In two places, Peter.”
“Okay,” Peter breaths. “That was dumb, but this is-”
“What? It’s not the same?”
Peter feels like he must have missed something. There’s a hint of venom behind Tony’s words now, an anger that’s only really been directed at him once before. Peter shakes his head and sharp pain pierces through his temples. He’s definitely not understanding. “Mr. Stark-“
“Right,” Tony interrupts, again. “because that’s the God of Thunder out there and I’m just Mr. Stark.”
“Please,”
“No, it’s okay… You know what, Peter? You’re right. You’re not ready for this. Go upstairs. I’ll have Happy take you home in a few hours.”
“Mr. St-” Peter clamps a hand over his mouth, eyes watering as he gags into it. He looks to Tony for help, but he’s already halfway out the automated glass door.
Peter closes his eyes in a desperate (and failed) attempt to feel steady. Kitchen, he remembers, he’s close to it. He runs – now with both hands caging his mouth – to where he thinks it might be, arriving just in time to heave into the sink. The remains of his breakfast spray past his fingers and soak the previously-pristine metal.
“Mr. Parker, do you require assistance?”
_____
FRIDAY’s voice begins to echo just as Tony sends a final blast from his gauntlet straight into Steve’s – Sam’s? He isn’t entirely sure – shield. It ricochets, but he ducks just in time.
“Boss, may I interrupt?”
“You already have, FRI,” Tony spits. Steve nods in his direction, undoing his arm straps and tossing the Vibranium to the side in two swift movements.
“Peter Parker is in distress.”
At this, training halts. Natasha makes a T-shape with her arms and the remaining Avengers fall in line, each taking the time to collect themselves as they listen.
“He having a nightmare or something? Wake him up for me, I’m a little busy.” Tony immediately resorts back to a fighting stance, but it falls flat when Steve doesn’t join him. They’ve been at this for a while, he notices.
“Tony?” Steve tries.
“Mr. Parker is displaying a temperature reading of approximately 103.9 degrees Fahrenheit and has been throwing up, on and off, for the past four hours.”
“What the fuck?”
“I had been advised not to bring this to your attention, at Mr. Parker’s request. However, he has since lost consciousness and his two degree rise in temperature has led me to override his decision as per protocol. How would you like to proceed?”
Tony takes a shaky, uneven breath. He’d been stressed, hyper-fixated on this training session as the first Avengers group activity since… It would be Steve’s last - he made that clear - but Tony begged him to come. Peter wanted him there. Peter. How could he not have seen this?
Tony doesn’t realize he’s panicking until Steve’s hand is on his shoulder. He hadn’t noticed the hyperventilating until he had to carry the weight of Captain America’s arm with each hitch.
“Tony,” Steve says again, softer.
“I fucked up.”
“I can get him. It’s okay.”
“No, no,” Tony takes a final deep breath, stabilizing himself. Tony’s bare hand shoots up to push at Steve’s chest, as if he possessed half the force necessary to hold him back. “I’ve got him.”
_____
The sight Tony finds in the downstairs bathroom makes his chest feel tight. Peter’s slouched over the toilet seat, his face resting on the porcelain – which is so, so gross – and his eyes are closed. His breaths are labored; Tony can tell by the way his back arches and trembles. The kid’s out cold, but his face is twisted in a look of pain and his now-limp hands are still white-knuckled from previous exertion.
Tony takes a few small steps forward, kneeling carefully to get closer to the boy’s level. He sighs, reaching up to run a hand through the mess of damp curls plastered to Peter’s forehead.
“Rise and shine, Underoos.”
The second he wakes, Peter is immediately gagging. Tony lifts him back over the toilet seat when he falls, though nothing comes up but water and bile. The poor kid continues to heave after everything’s gone, spluttering and choking on his own breath.
“Hey, hey, that’s enough,” Tony soothes, dropping into a sitting position so he can pull Peter close to his chest. “There’s nothing left, kid.”
It takes a few minutes, but Peter eventually falls into a semi-even breathing pattern. When Tony briefly wonders if he’s sleeping, Peter takes a handful of fabric from Tony’s shirt into his fist, pulling him closer.
“Listen, Pete,” Tony tries, unsteady. He would’ve thought he’d be a little more prepared for this after five years with Morgan, but his relationship with Peter now seems more fragile than ever. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve listened.”
“Shh, Mr. St’rk,” Peter slurs through layers of congestion. With a finger to his lips, he motions to his apparently-sensitive ears. “S’okay.”
“You’re here now,” he says after some time, and Tony watches him close his eyes.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, sadly. “I’m here.”
#i wrote this before ffh so no spoilers or anything#mcutopia#fic request#prompt fill#peter parker#spiderman#irondad#tony stark#iron man#marvel#mcu#fanfic#fanfiction#sickfic#sick peter#my fic#emeto#hurt/comfort
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Writing Inspiration
Hi all,
I thought I’d pop on and do a little something to help pep others up. Here are some of my tried and true methods of inspiring myself to write, separated into categories:
BOOKS - Read about the craft of writing... or pick up a book in your genre (or an entirely new one!)
On Writing by: Stephen King
Writer to Writer and Writing Magic by: Gail Carson Levine*
No Plot, No Problem by: Chris Baty
The Harry Potter series - J. K. Rowling
The Hobbit + Lord of the Rings series - J. R. R. Tolkien
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
The Shades of Magic series - V. E. Schwab
Poetry (Emily Dickinson, Rainer Maria Rilke, Shel Silverstein, and e.e. cummings are my favorites)
Brain Storm by: Don Hahn
Reading Like a Writer by: Francine Prose
The Writer’s Journey by: Christopher Vogler*
Writing Down the Bones by: Natalie Goldberg*
The Art of Fiction by: John Gardner*
Steering the Craft by: Ursula K. Le Guin*
The Plot Thickens by: Noah Lukeman*
MOVIES - Watch a movie that sparks your creativity, or at least makes you happy to be a writer!
Howl’s Moving Castle (based on a book)
Spirited Away
The Little Princess (based on a book)
The Secret Garden (based on a book)
Secondhand Lions
Midnight in Paris
Dan in Real Life
Stuck in Love
ARTISTRY - Pick up a new hobby or research something new!
Knitting - you can make your friends/family/self nice things, and helps you check your tension in your hands/wrists!
Drawing - being able to draw your characters how you see them (and not based on a faceclaim) is super helpful!
Paleontology - dinosaurs are cool! No stories with dinosaurs? Maybe think about it after doing some research. Or human-dinosaur hybrids?
Space - space is INSANE. After even an hour of a wikipedia research, you’ll get sucked in forever.
Plants - try Wicked Plants by Amy Stewart*, The Book of Herbal Wisdom by Matthew Wood*, or Botany in a Day by Thomas J. Elpel*; helpful if your characters don’t have access to modern medicine!
Baking - not only will let you create something edible (YUM!) but you get to take out your frustration on kneading/stirring/whisking for a bit. Baking is all about precision, while cooking is more loosey-goosey. Any characters you can think of that are the same way?
Psychology - self explanatory; You are a human and your characters are supposed to be human-like (unless they’re dogs or aliens or cryptids or something cool), so psychology can only help in all of these instances. Read into gender, school systems, honesty, willpower, etc.
Anatomy - self explanatory; Characters get stabbed, shot, punched, etc. all the time... a little research on anatomy and physiology will go a long way in knowing which arteries are where, why bruises change color, what happens if you get punched in the face, etc.
MISCELLANY
Avatar the Last Airbender (watch it at least once if you never have)
Adventure Time (silly and heartwarming and weird)
Make playlists for your different wips! It’s distracting and relaxing! I use spotify!
Rewrite a scene from one of your favorite books. In your ideal world, what would happen instead?
Fill out character sheets! I can send you some if you need ideas!
Try out a website like WorldAnvil and get your story up there!
Write a fan-fiction! Pick one of your favorite stories/movies/shows and make your own character. What happens when you plop them in your favorite chapter/episode/scene?
Watch a video/listen to a podcast about writing! My dad got me into Brandon Sanderson’s youtube videos about writing, and I’ve been watching one during my “lunch break” every day.
Try comics! (Webtoon is an excellent app for reading them on your phone/on-the-go! I’d recommend Heartstopper, Let’s Play, Purple Hyacinth, SubZero, Lore Olympus, Castle Swimmer, Miss Abbott and the Doctor, Drawn to You by Hat-Chan, Third Shift Society, Blood Ink, Hooky, Muted, The Devil is a Handsome Man, Ava’s Demon, and tons more!)
Most of all, don’t feel pressure to publish anything. Don’t feel like you have to be productive right now. Keep your head above water and try to make time to write every day, even if it’s just a sentence or two. Hope these help!
-Kaylie-
(Books with asterisks are on my TBR (to be read) pile/list, but I haven’t read them yet, or have only read bits of them!)
#tldr: here is some writing inspiration#sorry for the tldr#kayliewrites#writing inspiration#writing#writers#writer#write#creative writing#inspiration#book recommendations#book recs
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When you befriend the king pt. 4
“Loser”
Oc Fic| DarkWing Duck 91’ universe.Zeke Corvo and Dave “dorky” Curant @dorky-crow
Bullying, Slurs, offensive language
A/N Sorry I made him cry. Also if you haven't noticed I tend to update warnings per chapter to show a heads up of what happens in the chapter. Also a chance to see the type of person Zeke really is under all that trouble he deals with in this one (psst he is a sap).
____________________________________________________________________________
Zeke was wandering around the back streets of St.carnad, since he left school so early he didn't want to head home yet, he was still paying for messing up Micheal’s face a week ago. Zeke smiled thinking about that again. The joy of that soon erased as Dave’s shocked expression replaced Micheals look of fear in Zeke’s mind. Zeke just shook his head to get rid of it physically. Why did that bother him so much? He had a reason for making things clear with that dork, least Zeke thought he knew those reasons before.
Zeke sighed and lowered his head to look at the ground, he spotted a rock and gave it a kick sending it flying when he did. He walked up to where it landed and gave it another lighter kick. It went forward again and Zeke continued this as he walked. Focusing on the rock the whole time as he thought to himself a bit.
He thought he was just annoyed with the black bird always coming to him and sticking to his side almost like he was glued to Zeke. That wasn’t it though. Zeke thought maybe it was because of what having him around did for Zeke’s rep. But, that hadn’t really affected him too much really. Outside the way people stared when they were together. Zeked annoyed thinking of the way the nurses at school acted when Dave and him were in her office. He gave the rock a swift kick and sent it into the air this time. Zeke didn’t care where it landed as he just looked at his feet.
“Uh maybe you should try to join a team in high school” A voice said to him
Zeke looked up to see Mac he was holding the rock that Zeke just sent flying in his hand. The Pigeon looking it over ss if it wasn’t just a simple pebble. He then smiled down to Zeke.
“Playing hooky? Or did the school tell you not to bother today since you like to cause trouble?” Mac teased him as he dropped the rock. Mac then lowered himself down to one of his knees to be at eye level with Zeke. “I have some stuff to help take care of today. I'm sure it’ll be okay to have a little extra help from a tag along.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Hmm so you left after being in the office and telling that kid off uh?” Mac asked as Zeke and him were sitting in the car.
Mac had been running all over the place meeting up with some people Zeke assumed it had to do with family business. Not once asking Zeke what happened and didn’t say anything about having to talk to his dad about him skipping. Even when the school called, Zeke didn’t know Mac was the one who got those calls till now. Even after that he didn’t ask. So Zeke just told him what happened, something about Mac always drew that out of him even if it wasn’t always right away.
“Guess they were just worried that the kid was in danger being around the trouble maker.” Mac stated simply as he parked the car in an empty lot.
Zeke was staring out the window looking at the backside of the buildings the lot was used for. Only three other cars were parked here, Zeke giving them more attention than Mac before letting out a heavy sigh.
“Was it really that much a bother to deal with this kid hanging around you?” Mac asked as he removed his glass pretending they needed to be cleaned. “You don’t spend time around anyone your own age really. Only ever spent time around your grandfather. And his associates, seems you may be a little awkward around people your own age.” was all Mac offered to say on the matter.
It did give the young dracula parrot some things to think about as the days went on. Zeke went to school the next day. Dave stayed away though. Zeke didn’t even see him till their math class, where the little bird didn’t even bother to give him a hello, not verbally or even with a look. Seemed like he was trying to avoid looking at him altogether. It was for the best Zeke felt though.
The following day Zeke skipped out on a class and was hiding out where no teacher would bother him. Sitting in the farthest corner of the school's library.
“Guess that idiot lost his bodyguard finally”
“He probably was paying that kid to work for him so we would leave dorky alone.”
“Ha he couldn’t even pay someone enough to stick around him!”
Zeke could overhear a conversation on the other side of one of the book cases, he got up and removed a book on one of the higher shelves. Using the empty space it left as a pep hole as he could see a few kids on the other side. He recognized some of them, it was one of the kids he beat up a while ago, and another was the kid who tried to trip Dave in the hallway. Zeke placed the book back and left shortly after.
Three days after that Zeke had started to notice that Dave was always alone. Zeke one day watching from an empty class room window. Always saw the kid come to school alone, no one to greet him, and he never waited for anyone else. He would leave his dad’s car after getting dropped off. Found somewhere to sit and worte in a notebook or read a book. At lunch he sat by himself, no one ever dared to sit at the same table. If he couldn’t get a table he sat on the floor along the wall of the commons. Always walked to each class alone too. During all of that time of seeing this Zeke realized he never heard Dave’s voice once. He was just so quiet.
Zeke couldn’t understand how that could be seeing as the kid never shut up when he was around Zeke. Always going on about some fairy tale he liked or some new cooking tricked he heard about and what to try. Like putting zucchini into a chocolate cake to make it wet? Something like that. Sounded gross.
I kind of miss it though.
Zeke found himself thinking. A whole two weeks had passed now since he told Dave to leave him alone. Dave had only hung around him for three days before that, yet that kid seemed to flock to Zeke like he had always done before. His consistent chatter, the way he had to walk faster to keep up with Zeke. The way his attention always snapped to Zeke right away when Zeke would go to talk. Zeke found himself walking into the commons lost in his thoughts of the black bird when feeling someone bump into him.
“O oh i’m sorry I wasn’t”
Zeke looked down right away as soon as that voice registered to him. Only now seeing he was blocking the exit of the lunch line. But more importantly he happened to do so when Dave was leaving the line with his food. He didn’t spill anything, he just got some stuff tossed around on his plastic tray. Dave straightened some things up before looking up and his eyes widened when seeing Zeke, he went to speak but stopped and looked back down to his food.
“S sorry.” He said again then walked around Zeke making his way to an empty table.
“What an idiot. Like he couldn’t see him he's freaking huge.”
Zeke was quick to glare at the kid talking. Then moved on out of the way standing off against the walls as he tried to look in the commons again for Dave. Feeling stupid at how much the sound of the bird voice changed his mood. And even more when he smiled once finding the small bird again. Dave was fixing up his tray of food putting everything back into place and did a small little wiggle to get settled into his spot as he was about to eat.
That was just him being a dork through and through. Zeke frowned a bit he didn’t realize he actually enjoyed having someone around like Dave used to be. Dave didn’t seem scared of him just seemed to be doing what Zeke wanted by staying away from him. So that meant Zeke could fix things with him. Zeke just had no idea on how to do that. Mac may have a point in what he said the other day. Zeke knew how to talk to the adults that were always around his grandpa but he didn’t know how to talk normally. At least not like how everyone at school talked to each other. Maybe it didn’t matter what he said as long as he said something. Zeke gave himself the boost he needed. But stopped when catching a group of kids heading over to Dave.
“Hey dorky!” One of them called out getting Dave’s attention when they did “We saw you walk away from the parrot kid, guess your little friendship didn’t last uh?”
Dave got quiet at the mention of Zeke and went to speak but was soon cut off as the kids kept the conversation going.
“Guess the rumor was true you couldn’t pay him enough anymore uh?”
“Pay?” Dave asked confused
“More like he got sick of being around this idiot.” the third kid added in as he laughed
“Or, he find out about Dorky?”
“Ohh you mean about how hes a little ol fag?”
“Chased Zeke right off”
Dave looked away from them and down to his tray of fo as the kids kept hammering in the word and how Zeke got some sense in him to get Dave to leave him alone. Dave was yanked out from thought when one of the kids frocely grabbed him
“Hey were talking to you, or did us bring up your crush get you to gay to listen?”
Soon after Dave felt the sudden luck warm milk from his tray poured onto his head, as the kid holding him started to laugh. The third kid of the group followed up by dropping the rest of his lunch on his head.
“Oh my god ha!” the kid holding him said and dropped Dave to the floor as he laughed.
Dave stared at the ground as he could see food and milk drip off his head. Listening to the kids laugh around him loudly. He tightened his hands into fists and clenched his eyes shut trying to hold back the tears burning at his eyes. But suddenly the laughing stopped, Dave slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head up to see Zeke standing in front of him, he held his hand out to the little bird who was slow to take it. With barely any effort Zeke pulled Dave up to his feet and brushed off some corn kernels that were on his shoulder off. Dave was about to speak but Zeke held up his hand to tell him not to.
“Oh making new friends uh” Zeke said in a tone that sent a bit of a chill into the air. “ mm don’t know how I feel about that im a bit of the jealous type you see.” Zeke began to say as he headed towards the kids who were kicked to run away soon as he stepped closer. “Pft bunch of wimps.”
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Zeke was leaning against the wall of the bathroom as Dave cleaned himself off. Zeke was surprised how chipper he seemed to be right now.Happily humming as he dried the milk off himself and tried removing the stains on his shirt. Zeke was expecting him to be crying at least. He knew what he would say though if he asked about it, Zeke just grew more annoyed with himself and let out an annoyed gorn.
“Oh sorry is the humming too much?” Dave asked suddenly
“No just… about the other day I want to..I mean I didn’t really mean it.” Zeke tried to talk but he just couldn’t get the words right when he did.
As he struggled to the talk the little bird smiled and walked over to Zeke
“Did you mean what you said earlier?”
“What part?”
“Well you didn’t really say we're friends but did you mean that?” Dave pressed
Zeke was quite a moment as he looked the bird over, he looked like a mess still even after trying to clean himself up. Without a word Zeke took off his grey hoodie and handed it over to Dave to wear. That would at least cover his shirt up he figured. Dave just stared at the hoodie when Zeke held it out to him.
“Just put it on Dave.”
Dave quickly took it from Zeke. As he pulled it over himself and he tried to smooth it out once on. It slightly sagged around the black bird since he was so small compared to Zeke. But, he smiled anyway once it was on. Zeke rubbed at the back of his neck before he went to speak.
“I don’t really know how to have friends.”
“That's okay I’ve never had friends!” Dave was quick to say, even if that was more sad than reassuring. “B but I would like to be friends with you Zeke.” Dave then fumbled with his hands a bit “I promise I won't bug you like before.”
Zeke felt his chest tighten but smiled at Dave “Nah it’s fine, do what you want. Yell out my name in the hall if you see me talk my ears off whatever. Don’t worry so much about that stuff I well kind of missed it to be honest with you.”
Dave smiled back happily “Then can I hang around you again?”
“May be best if you do, you seem to attract trouble when I’m not around.” Zeke joked a bit. "For now that's just how we'll leave things as is. Alright?"
Dave just nodded accepting that easily, the bell then rung and ended their moment as the hallways soon erupted from the noise of kids filling them headed to their next class.
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The Oath | Ch. 13 “Breaking Point”
a/n: wow! the last chapter got A LOT of response, it was very interesting to read everyone’s take on the “spanking vs. non-spanking” debacle. sorry it was a rough one, the next three chapters will make up for it (i hope)
Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12
September 22nd, 2019
It had been nearly a month and a half since Jamie had dropped off Claire after their fateful weekend at Lallybroch. They had exchanged a few brief messages and had met once for dinner nearly a week later, but things were on thin ice.
Claire didn’t want to fight — she didn’t want to feel this way about Jamie. She had just been allowing herself to feel something for him and then their conversation about how to raise their daughter wrecked it all.
It didn’t matter to her that Jamie had been beaten as a child by his own father — that was not going to happen to her daughter. The thought of anyone laying a hand on her child made her furious and it only hurt her thinking that Jamie was perfectly fine with it.
She knew it was ridiculous to keep fighting about this for so long, especially since Jamie had already missed out on the first five months of the pregnancy. Also, Claire missed Jamie dearly. She missed texting him when she felt the baby kick, or calling him after work to hear about his day. It was during this time of separation, that Claire realized how much she needed him after all.
After she had come back from Lallybroch, Geillis had asked her all about her weekend getaway.
“How did it go with his family? Were they nice?”
“They were lovely,” Claire smiled. “I met his sister and brother-in-law, their kids and then Murtagh, Jamie’s godfather.”
“Aye, what else?” Geillis leaned forward on the couch, sipping her cup of chamomile tea.
“It started out well…” Claire looked down, her fingers worrying a stain on her jeans.
“Did it no end well then?”
“No,” Claire sniffed. “We had a fight. Jamie and I.”
“Oh, Claire,” Geillis reached out her hand, laying it over Claire’s. “I’m sure ye’ll be just fine. Ye two havena fought yet, it was bound to happen.”
“Yes, but this isn’t something either of us is likely to get over.”
“Och, ye canna just leave it there, spill it lass!”
Claire ran her hand over her forehead, pushing her curls back from her face. Perhaps if she just said it all out loud, it would sound ridiculous and then Claire could move on and call Jamie.
“I had a really lovely conversation with his sister, Jenny about Jamie’s feelings toward me and mine towards him. That was fine — gave me plenty to think about. But then later that evening, Jamie and I got to talking about our daughter and how we would raise her.” Geillis nodded, a sign for her to continue. “He said that she would be the prettiest girl and that she would be a great nurse or teacher — all jobs that women normally do.”
“Aye, and men.”
“Yes and men!” Claire laughed. “Well, I told him how men do those jobs as well and if he would let our daughter do a job a man normally does. He said he would, but he wouldn’t prefer it. That wasn’t the issue… the issue,” Claire took a breath, “Is that he sees no problem with spanking our child if she misbehaves. I’ll have no part in that!”
“Jamie would hit the lass?”
“If she was acting up or crying, he said he would give her a tap on the bum,” Claire rolled her eyes. “He went on and on about how as a lad he was hit by his own father. And I know he wasn’t saying he would beat our child black and blue, but it’s just the thought…”
“Well, tis a bit different wi’ the lassies. I’m sure his father didna spank his sister as hard as he spanked Jamie.”
“You think Jamie’s father would have hit Jenny as well?” Claire gasped a bit at that.
“Aye, I do. I wasna hit by my own parents, they were too much of hippies to be doin’ that,” Geillis smiled. “But I wouldna doubt it.”
“Hmmm,” Claire sighed. “I’m sure I’m blowing this way out of proportion…”
“Maybe ye should call Jamie’s sister and find out what she thinks. Maybe tis just Jamie’s way of thinkin’, but maybe tis a Fraser was of thinkin’…”
“Perhaps,” Claire said and took a long sip of her tea, mulling over the weekends conversations yet again.
It was Jenny’s number that Claire was dialing now. She should have called earlier, but as usual, life got in the way and Claire seemed to be a professional procrastinator. Jenny answered after the third ring.
“Hello?” Came the soft Scottish lilt.
“Hi, Jenny. This is Claire… Beauchamp.”
“Claire! ’Tis good to hear from ye, I was just thinkin’ of ye the other day in fact.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner or that I haven’t been back to see you and the children,” Claire said sadly.
“Aye, tis alright lass,” Jenny said. “Jamie told me that ye two got into a fight, but he didna say what about. I take it that is what yer calling about now?”
“Yes it is. It’s a bit of an awkward subject though.”
“Shoot. I’m an open book,” Jenny said.
Claire checked her watch, she still had an hour before she needed to be at work, one of her last shifts before she went on maternity leave. She wasn’t really doing a lot of work these days, mostly just checking patients files and doing busy work — anything to keep her mind occupied.
“Jamie and I got into a disagreement about how to raise our daughter. About… whether or not we should punish our child physically.”
“Ah, so he told ye how Da used to spank him?”
“Yes, and I can’t agree with it at all. I was hoping for your insight on the matter.”
“Jamie was a troublesome lad, him and Ian both got into fights with the neighbor lads. Those two were thick as thieves, still are,” Jenny chuckled on the other end. “When they got into too much trouble, then my Da would take the strap to both of them, ten whacks each on the bum.”
“Did he ever hit you?”
“Only when I was verra young, Claire. And never like he did wi’ Jamie — my Da was a sensitive man and I kent it pained him to have to even hit Jamie.”
“But then why did he do it?” Claire asked, trying to understand.
Jenny was silent a moment on the other end and then spoke, “I think he felt it was the only way Jamie would learn. I also ken that my Da said that it should hurt him too, to have to punish Jamie in such a way. Our Da didna beat us black and blue if that’s what yer askin’, Claire. He was a just man, but a kind one too.”
Claire sighed, knowing that Jamie had never said he would beat their daughter, but only a smack on the bum every now and then. It still didn’t sit well with her, however.
“May I ask what all Jamie said to ye exactly?”
“He said that if she was misbehaving or crying, then he wouldn’t hesitate to give her a wee pat on the bum,” Claire smiled, recalling the sound of his voice — she missed him, even if he had been a bit of a dick to her.
“It sounds to me that Jamie willna take a strap to the lass, only use his hand when he sees fit. No one uses a strap anymore anyways and Claire…” Jenny said. “Sometimes tis all ye want to do when they’re screamin’ at the top o’ their lungs. When tis just ye and them, a face off and ye want so badly to just smack ‘em. Ye love them of course, no doubt. But can ye maybe see where Jamie is coming from? Tis just how he was raised.”
Claire nodded and then remembered that Jenny couldn’t see her, “Yes. I think I do. At least I’m beginning to.” She hadn’t changed her mind, she didn’t want her daughter to be hit — ever, but perhaps her and Jamie could now have a more civilized conversation about this. Too much time had passed and she didn’t want to waste another moment. “Thank you, Jenny. There was, however one other thing Jamie said…”
“Aye, what now?” Claire could hear the smirk in her voice.
“Well I think he’s upset that — that I slept with someone else, he called me a loose woman and said how I shouldn’t be making decisions since I wasn’t wise about that,” Claire rushed out. “I mean, I did also say the baby was mine, Christ, Jenny…”
“Sounds like two stubborn people that said a bunch of things that they didna mean,” Jenny sighed. “Ian and I have said a fair share of things in the heat of the moment that were none so kind, even if we did maybe feel they were true.”
“Right!” Claire ran her hand back through her curls, starting to feel a bit better about things. “I know Jamie didn’t mean it, at least I hope he didn’t, because I didn’t mean what I said… we’re still just getting to know each other and I wish more than anything I could just be open, as open as he’s been with me.”
“Claire, ye two are in a tricky situation. I ken my brother and I ken that he’s as stubborn as a bull and we get into fights of our own from time to time. And I also know that he’s probably beating himself up about what he said to ye,” Jenny said.
“I know I am,” Claire took a deep breath. “Well, thank you, Jenny. You’ve given me a lot to think about, I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me about this.”
“Anytime, Claire. I mean it, yer part of the family now whether ye like it or not.”
“I’ll let you go then,” Claire smiled. “I think I need to call Jamie and sort some things out.”
“Aye, sounds like ye do. Goodbye, Claire. Hopefully we’ll see ye and the wee bairn soon!”
Claire hung up the phone and let out a deep sigh. Just past the eight month mark, Claire was growing tired of being pregnant. She was impatient to meet her daughter and also so physically uncomfortable — it was nearly impossible to find any position that didn’t hurt her back.
Too tired to move, and with too many thoughts racing in her head, Claire shut her eyes and dozed off, only waking hours later to the sound of Geillis coming home.
“I see yer playin’ hooky now,” Geillis said softly as she stood over Claire whose eyes were opening slowly.
“Oh Christ!” Claire tried to sit up, but her belly was making that rather hard to do. “I overslept! What time is it?”
“It’s just past five pm, lass. When ye didna show up after twenty minutes, we all assumed ye’d fallen asleep,” Geillis laughed. “No one’s mad at ye, dinna fast about it.”
“Thank God,” Claire relaxed once again back into the chair, then the baby started pushing on her bladder. “Can you help me up, Geillis? I need a wee.”
“Aye,” Geillis came over to her, holding out both hands.
As Claire stood up from the couch, a wetness came from between her legs. “What the bloody hell? Have I wet myself or…”
“Did yer water just break?!” Geillis looked down between them at the puddle on the floor.
“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! It did!”
++++++
Jamie had been going mad thinking about Claire and his daughter. Were they alright? Did they need anything? He had been keeping in touch with Geillis for updates over the past month or so since he knew Claire wouldn’t want to speak with him.
He knew what he had said to Claire in the car was wrong, he’d just been so angry and had held in so many feelings about the pregnancy. Before he even knew what he was saying, the words just came flying out and he regretted them immediately.
Work had been slow and he had managed to accomplish next to nothing with worry over Claire and the baby. It was nearly 5pm, time to head home for the day.
His phone started buzzing in his pocket and he hoped it was Claire, he desperately wanted to see her. When he saw the caller I.D. his heart panicked a little — Geillis.
“Hello?”
“Jamie? It’s me Geillis.”
“I ken tis ye, Geillis,” Jamie chuckled. “Why are ye callin’? Is everything alright?”
“It’s Claire,” the woman said and Jamie nearly dropped the phone. “She’s gone into labor and well, ye ken the babe wasna due for another few weeks. I’ve just driven her to the hospital, this is the first chance I’ve found to call ye.”
“She’s already at the hospital?” Jamie said and rose from his chair, looking around for his keys.
“Aye, the same we work at, ye’ll ken where it is then?”
“Yes, I do. Geillis, tell Claire I’m on my way! I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jamie said quickly into the phone and then flew out the door, shouting about Claire having the baby as he passed an odd faced Murtagh.
It was too early. Several weeks early.
Just wait, Sassenach. I’m coming.
Chapter 14: Together
#the oath#pls forgive me for ch 12#outlander fanfic#outlander fanfiction#jamie x claire#jamie fraser#claire fraser#chapter 13#breaking point#buh dum tss
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dizzy on the comedown (Keith/Pidge)
Title: dizzy on the comedown Summary: But it was molting season: time to trade the old feathers for new wings. / Keith, Katie, and the light of a small town moon. A/N: Written for the @kidgezine!
Read and review here or continue under the cut.
o.O.o
At this point in his life, Keith had two things going for him. Graduation, and—
Okay, well. Maybe just the one.
Above Mrs. Finkle’s head, the clock crept at a snail’s pace. Time moved slowly enough in Arus already—call it the universal law of small towns—but detention, Keith hypothesized, was where it froze in cryogenic sleep. If not for the one other student sitting two rows behind him and to the left, Keith could have convinced himself he was in bed at home, dreaming.
That was how most days felt, in the midst of senior spring. Like he could just float in and out of them until summer, when he’d be gone for good. As far as cities went, Altea hardly had the glitz and glamor of somewhere like New York, but its population of 100,000 was massive compared to Arus’s 1,800, and for that, Keith couldn’t wait.
In the meantime, though, he saved up his money and cut class. Which had been working just fine until he’d dropped by to grab an assignment and Iverson had spotted him, hightailed it down the corridor, and grabbed Keith by the scruff of his jean jacket before he could get away.
Dragging his attention away from the minute hand, Keith went back to fiddling with the radio on his desk. It was his mom’s, a vintage dark beige beauty that had started glitching last week. Despite not being much of a repairman, Keith hoped to fix it in time for her birthday this weekend. Mrs. Finkle ignored him, tongue darting out to wet her finger as she flipped another page of her book.
Keith messed with a wire and turned the dial. Nothing but static at first, but slowly the faint strains of music overcame the crackle. Keith smiled, stopping short when a ball of paper hit the back of his head.
He turned around. His detention-mate stared back at him with a steady gaze, hazelnut brown hair bundled in two messy braids. Katie Holt, sophomore. One older brother, Matt, who’d graduated last year. Her dad was an astrophysics professor while her mom bounced between running the local library and volunteering at the observatory up in the hills. Keith knew all these facts through no extra effort of his own, the same way everyone knew that his dad had died putting out the fire on Mr. McComb’s farm back in 2008.
What he didn’t know was why Katie was in detention. She didn’t exactly seem like the rabble-rousing type. Then again, maybe the fact that she looked so unassuming was exactly what made her trouble.
Impatiently, Katie jerked her head toward the crumpled ball behind him. Frowning, Keith swiveled in his chair and scooped it up, flattening it on his desk.
Nice, read the note.
Meaning the radio, probably. He glanced back at Katie and raised a single eyebrow in acknowledgement. At the front of the classroom, Mrs. Finkle’s chair scraped backwards as she stood up.
Though it took 30 seconds for her to leave the room and turn the corner toward the bathrooms, it felt like a year. Once she’d left, Keith put the radio in his backpack and swung it over his shoulder. He didn’t know Katie well enough to say anything meaningful out loud, but he granted her a brief nod of acknowledgement before turning his back.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving.” He poked his head out into the hallway to make sure no one was around. The agreement with Mrs. Finkle was simple: as long as nobody saw him busting out, she could plead innocence, and they could both move on with their respective afternoons.
“Isn’t skipping detention just going to get you… more detention?”
At that, Keith turned to lean against the doorframe. Katie had moved to stand beside him, hands curled around the straps of her backpack.
“Trust me, I do it all the time.”
“In that case...” Katie tilted her head. “Lead the way.”
Katie Holt had a bossy streak, apparently. Without further conversation, Keith started down the hallway.
“Do you have some sort of secret arrangement with Mrs. Finkle?” asked Katie, hot on his heels.
“No, she just doesn’t care. I got top marks on all the state evals, and I pretty much carry the class average.” Keith didn’t say it to brag; he’d overheard Mrs. Finkle use the exact same reasoning in an argument with Iverson once. “Besides, detention wastes her time just as much as it wastes ours— hey. ”
Katie had grabbed his forearm, yanking him to the right.
“Coach Sendak always gets his coffee in the break room around this time,” she hissed. “I thought you said you did this a lot.”
“No need to be critical,” grumbled Keith.
They’d finally reached the parking lot. His red pickup truck, shabby as it was, beckoned like a jewel. Before he could head in its direction, though, he made the mistake of glancing over at Katie. She looked on the brink of asking him something, the determination on her face surprisingly imposing considering her stature.
Exhaling, Keith ran a hand through his hair. “What?”
Just as quickly, Katie’s expression transitioned to innocence. “What?”
He leveled her with a look that read, clearly: I don't have time for this. “What are you about to ask?”
She shifted. “I need a ride home. 23rd and Walnut.”
“That’s four traffic lights past Greasy Sal’s, right?”
“Yeah.”
“All right, fine.” Keith gestured for her to walk with him. At his truck, he pulled open the driver’s door, tossing his bag into the backseat. “Get in.”
o.O.o
“Dammit.” For the third time, Katie jiggled the door handle, rapping on the door. “Nobody’s home.”
“Window?” suggested Keith.
Katie shot him a flat look. “I’m not breaking into my own house.”
“Okay, then…” Keith crossed his arms. The Holts’ porch was small, painted gray while the rest of the house was white. A bristly brown welcome mat printed with a cactus laid in front of the screen door; cacti seemed to be a recurring motif, if the several growing in the yard were anything to go by.
He took a deep breath.
“Listen, I’ve got a paper route that starts in fifteen minutes. So either you stay here, or you come with. But I’m leaving.”
“Gee, you’re really selling the appeal of your company,” said Katie. “I’m in.”
It took Keith a second to process, during which Katie sailed past him and back to his car. “You’re—what?”
“I’m in.” Opening the passenger side door, she clambered inside. “Come on—I don’t want to be blamed for you being late.”
o.O.o
As far as newspapers went, the Arus Gazette would hardly win any awards for its journalism. But much like playing in the Little League or driving to nearby Olkari Springs for Labor Day Weekend, subscription to it was time-honored tradition, a given if you’d grown up in town.
“How long does it usually take you to deliver all these?” Katie asked, pushing aside a newspaper tube that had encroached on the space between them.
“Two hours. If you’re trying to get homework done, you could probably just use the dashboard as a desk.”
Shaking her head, Katie leaned back in the seat. “Nah, I get carsick.”
“Suit yourself,” answered Keith, just as the traffic light ahead of them blinked sleepily from yellow to red. The foot he put down on the brake pedal felt like a dampener on the mood in the car; in the silence, Katie turned away from him to stare out the window, her fingers laced in her lap. It was weird. Usually, Keith cared little about forcing conversation. He hadn’t promised he’d entertain her for tagging along on his errand run. Still…
“How’d you get thrown in detention?”
Katie turned toward him, blinking in surprise. “You really want to know?”
Keith shrugged. “Might as well.”
“Hm.” The seatbelt shifted as Katie wriggled around to face him fully. “You know Lance, right?”
“Yeah.” Former Little League rival and youngest child of the McClains, who ran the only Cuban restaurant in town. “What about him?”
“So, basically I rigged the water fountain outside Mrs. Sanda’s classroom to spray in his face, which didn’t go over so well because—” Here, she adopted a high-pitched, nasal tone, “—‘we’re in the middle of a drought!’”
Keith cracked a smile. “Was it worth it?”
“100%. So what’s your deal? Is all the delinquency just a bad case of senioritis?”
“Detention doesn’t make me a delinquent.”
“At its broadest definition, delinquency means misbehavior, and I’d say playing hooky counts.”
“You’re kind of a smartass,” Keith observed.
Katie remained unfazed. “I’ve gotta be, if I ever want to get out of here.”
At that, Keith’s ears perked. Very few people broke beyond Arus’s event horizon. For most travelers, it was a pit stop, but once you settled, you stayed. That was what had happened to his mom: she’d been passing through on her way to a motorcycling convention when her bike had broken down. Keith’s dad arrived to save the day. Three months later, they’d married in the town courthouse, a September wedding, escorted home by a fleet of men and women in leather jackets—members of Mom’s former motorcycle club, the Blades.
“Where to?”
“East coast,” said Katie. “Or maybe Midwest. As long as it’s somewhere cold. I want to see snow.”
“These desert nights aren’t cold enough for you?”
“It’s not the same. What about you? Everyone knows you’re ditching for Altea.”
“Yeah. They’ve got the nearest police academy.”
Katie’s eyes brightened. She had an uncanny way of looking at him, as if he were a gadget she wanted to figure out the innermost workings of. “You’re going to be a police officer?”
Drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, Keith quirked an eyebrow. “If this is the setup for another joke about me being a delinquent…”
Katie pouted. “I’m more creative than that.”
“Good to know. Can you pass me one of the newspapers?”
Obliging, Katie handed him a tube as he rolled down the driver’s side window. With a flick of the wrist, Keith sent the bundle arcing through the air. It landed with a satisfying splat on the front porch, right up against the door. Beside him, Katie whistled.
“Twenty points if you can get it to land directly on the welcome mat,” said Keith, reaching behind him to grab another roll. He held it out between them in challenge.
Katie’s eyes sparked. “You’re on.”
What Keith knew about Katie Holt: she liked a good prank, she wanted out of Arus, and when she grinned, a dimple appeared high on her right cheek. And now he also knew the curve of her shoulder underneath her green flannel, a corded strength only hinted at before, when she’d grabbed him in the hallway. Katie had a wicked strong arm for somebody so small.
“I used to pitch for my brother,” explained Katie, her slight smirk a sign that she’d caught him noticing.
Two could play ball. “In that case,” said Keith, letting their fingers touch this time as he passed her another newspaper, “Batter up.”
o.O.o
The pink and blue of Coran’s Convenience shone invitingly against the night sky as Keith pulled into the parking lot. Wasting no time in unbuckling her seatbelt, Katie leaped out of the car, leaning against the ice machine as she waited for him to catch up.
It didn’t feel like they’d spent the last eight hours together; in fact, Keith was almost reluctant to see the end. They’d made a game of the rest of his paper route, competing to see who could throw faster or with more accuracy. Afterwards, dinner at Flo’s Diner, where between the two of them they’d devoured a healthy serving of chili cheese fries, crispy fish sliders, and apple pie. And now, to close the night, Slurpees from Coran’s.
Coran was Arus’s resident redhead and town gossip. Like a homing beacon, his head whipped toward the entrance when the bell overhead jingled. Somewhat protectively, Keith steered Katie so that the chip aisle obscured them from view as they headed toward the back, where the white lemon, blue raspberry, and cherry ice churned in their respective containers.
Halfway through filling his cup with cherry, Keith was interrupted.
“You’re doing it wrong,” said Katie, taking over. “The trick is to layer all the flavors.”
Keith took the package of Twizzlers she thrust at him, watching Katie top off the Slurpee’s blue raspberry layer with practiced precision.
“You’re a sick little genius, but I’ll take it.”
“Watch who you’re calling little,” she warned. “Corn Pops?”
Keith made a face. “Pass.”
“All right.”
At the cash register, Coran rang up their total with a twinkle in his eye. “How’s your mom doing, Keith?”
Reaching for his wallet, Keith shrugged. “She’s fine.”
“Gonna miss you when you leave for Altea, I bet.”
“I’m not disappearing off the grid, just moving. I’ll visit.”
“Mhmm. And what about you, Little Holt?” teased Coran. “Running around with this one now that Matt’s gone—I hope he hasn’t gotten you into any trouble.”
“We met in detention, actually,” said Keith, finally done counting his change. “Here. $5.79.”
Sensing Keith was a dead end, Coran swept the bills and coins into his hand and redirected his wiles toward Katie with more vigor.
“Trade that story for a Slim Jim.”
“Two Slim Jims and a pack of Mentos,” Katie countered.
Coran laughed, running a thumb over his mustache. “Deal.”
After laying the negotiated items on the counter, Coran leaned over to let Katie whisper in his ear. Meanwhile, Keith sipped the Slurpee, shivering slightly as the cold rushed to his head. Coran’s grin had pulled higher; Keith narrowed his eyes at Katie, wondering what she’d just said.
Once they’d escaped Coran’s gleeful “Stay safe, kids!” he had a chance to ask.
“What’d you tell him?”
“Something much more exciting than the truth,” grinned Katie, stashing their additional haul of Slim Jims and Mentos in the cup holder. “So, where to next?”
In the eerie white-blue lights of the gas station, her lips shone. She hadn’t redone her braids since the afternoon, and the wispy tangles framed her face, giving her a wild softness. It suddenly seemed impossible that Keith had lived all this time at Arus without casting her anything more than a second glance.
He braced a hand on the back of her headrest, getting ready to reverse. “I know a place.”
o.O.o
Keith’s boots clanged heavily as he climbed onto the bed of his truck. Katie had already spread out the blankets; she reclined on them now, elbows jutting out on either side of her head like two bony bird wings.
The cold desert air, combined with the condensation from the Slurpee, numbed Keith’s fingers. When he hit the lemon layer, his nose wrinkled. Wordlessly, he passed the cup to Katie, who accepted with a gleeful look that let him know this had probably been her plan all along.
“Do you do this often?” she asked.
Keith followed her gaze to where the roads out of Arus dissolved into black ribbons through the dry brush. Every so often, a car’s headlight appeared. In the distance, you could just barely make out the lights of another town, but it was mostly cactus and mountains and big desert sky.
“Yeah. My dad used to drive me out here whenever I needed to blow off steam.” He rested his chin on his knees, staring at the horizon line.
A rustle. Katie sat up beside him. “Was it in this car?”
Keith smiled. “Yeah.”
“That explains why the engine sounds so clunky then. You’ve had it for forever.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Keith watched her. The starlight seemed to catch on her freckles, making them glimmer. He wanted to ask if she believed in ghosts. Not the evil, vindictive kind, but the restless sort. The type that might possess you to drive to the outskirts of town and sit in that liminal space between everything you’d known and everything you wanted to be.
“What’s your favorite constellation?” asked Katie, breaking his reverie.
“Aquila,” Keith answered readily. “I like how bright it gets in the summer. And I’ve always liked birds of prey.”
“Poetic.”
“Stars are the only thing I’ll miss about this place, probably.” Even as he said it, though, he knew it wasn’t true; there was the belltower and the trailer park and the way the sunrise seemed to set the grass on fire, and the dark, quiet corner of Mo’s where if you pressed your ear to the wall you could feel the vibrations from the band practicing in the basement. But it was molting season: time to trade in the old feathers for new wings.
“Well, that sucks,” Katie said. “Because even though we just started hanging out… I think I’ll miss you.”
Behind her head, the moon peeked out like an angel’s halo. Messy, he thought—about Katie’s hair, about this, starting something only to leave it behind, but. I’m not disappearing off the grid, just moving. I’ll visit.
Gently, he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Katie’s ear. This new call was softer, more fragile than the one drawing him away from Arus, but it thud in his chest all the same.
“There’s room to add other things to the list,” he said, tugging her closer, or maybe she pulled him—either way, their mouths met in the middle, Katie’s hand curling around the flannel of his shirt, both a departure and an arrival, all at once. The glare from a passing headlight infiltrated the corner of his vision; instinctively, Keith turned away from it, nestling his face in the side of Katie’s head. Her hair smelled like a tangle of all the places they’d been today, hamburger grease mingled with desert air and notes of coconut.
“You’re trouble, Keith Kogane,” said Katie. She wrinkled her nose when she said it, and Keith was almost embarrassed by how fond he was of the gesture, already. It crackled in his chest, like a radio picking up a signal after hours of silence.
“So are you.”
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11 questions
I was tagged by the amazing @genericpseudonyms to answer 11 questions. Since I’m playing hooky at work, I’m not actually going to think of 11 of my own. Also, I’m lazy. Here goes!
1. Favorite childhood memory? Climbing into my parents’ bed with my sisters and eating Danoontje ice cream for father’s and mother’s day. 2. What’s your favorite thing about the last book/fic you’ve read? I haven’t been reading a lot of books lately #theworst. But fic I can do. I’m in the midst of a Critical Role fic binge, even though I’ve only seen like 30 episodes, but Perc’ahlia is a thing that I need more of so... I’m currently reading a Steampunk gothic horror AU that I shouldn’t be thinking about during work because I’ll just wanna read more. But the mystery is so good so far (I’ve read like three chapters), and the characters are just slowly established and their secrets will be revealed. The atmosphere is so fucking on point. It’s called the Wise Man’s Tree in case people are interested. 3. What’s a song you used to love but can’t listen to anymore? Speeding Cars - Imogen Heap. It’s so good and it was so cathartic for me at some point, but now everytime I hear it I just go back to that time and it makes me feel wrong. 4. If you could describe yourself in one GIF, what would it be? Flailing Kermit. End of story. 5. If you were a third-tier superhero, what would your power be? creating trope-y rare-pair fic 6. Happiest moment of 2017? Singing a solo in front of a sold-out theater and having people come up to me after to compliment me - TOTAL STRANGERS DID IT. WHAAAT 7. You can have one date with any fictional character ever. Who? Jess Mariano. I can discuss literature with him (Hemingway? Really?) and be eternally sad there won’t be a second date. 8. Likewise, you can have one no-strings attached night of the best smut you’ve ever read with any fictional character ever. Who? This is probably gonna change like, five minutes from now, but Nathaniel Plimpton. Dating him would be a terrible idea, but I’d absolutely let him sing me “Let’s Have Intercourse” and then leave in the morning. As long as I get to climb him like a sequoia - he’s strong enough to lift me probably. 9. OTP that has ruined your expectations for real-life romance. Go. Casskin - I blame @cassie-palmer for this. But seriously they have the good slow burn and the things they do for each other should be bananas but of course they do it because they love each other. (A lot of my other OTPs are like, well I love it but it’s not exactly real-life romance ruining. I’m queen of fucked up ships). Bellarke though - waiting six years and they’re not even a couple? Yeah that’s a lot to live up to. 10. If time and money weren’t an issue, what’s a hobby you’d love to take up? I would absolutely start taking private singing lessons. They’re just so expensive and my schedule is pretty packed, but I’d love to get better at the technique parts of singing. 11. How’s 2018 treating you so far? She was kind for like a week but then she fucked me over, as expected. ‘sup depression, I did not miss you and you don’t need to stick around. Please, 2018, make some good things happen for me, will ya?
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Prompt #191 - Charlie and Personal Struggles
ANON: please write something about Claire and Owen meeting Charlie’s boyfriend
Not quite meeting her boyfriend. But, this is an idea I’ve had in my head for probably a year now. I just never had the motivation or the finishing pieces to complete it.
It’s so nice to write 5k of a fic and not feel guilty about my thesis. You have no idea.
AO3 - C&E Index
CHARLIE AND PERSONAL STRUGGLES
She met her husband in the driveway of their two-storey three bedroom home three minutes past twelve o’clock. It was exactly as they planned, Owen winking at her as he crossed the distance between them, his large hands reaching her narrow hips first.
He kissed her like he was starving like their skin hadn't touched in weeks. Claire would have argued that it had only been days, the two of them more cautious now that their daughters were 16 and 11 than what they had ever been when they were toddlers.
It was lunchtime on a school day, the exact reason why Owen and Claire were kissing on their front lawn, her husband's impatient hands already sliding into the back of her tight slacks.
No one was home and when her after lunch appointment was cancelled Claire couldn't help but keep the extra hour free, allowing her two hours to meet her husband at home, fuck him and enjoy an easy lunch before returning to work.
The girls were supposed to be none the wiser.
The house was quiet when Owen unlocked the door, his wife giggling behind him as her small fingers wrapped themselves around the belt loops on his pants. They moved inside as one, Owen twisting in her grip to kiss his wife again. This was what they needed. Middle of the day serenity to bask in the other. Never had they struggled to find time for each other but once the girls started to get older it had become increasingly hard to ship them off to their grandparents for the weekend. They started living for cancelled meetings and weekends filled with teenaged plans.
Owen and Claire thought they were safe in broad daylight, house empty for another four hours before Charlie and Elliot were due to walk in the door, heads heavy from their day full of learning.
Her husband tugged on her hand, turning them to push his wife against the wall that separated the living room from the hallway. Claire couldn’t believe the need she had to wrap herself around him. Their bedroom had long been reclaimed taken from sleepless child filled nights. Elliot still sought out a cuddle before bed, happily bringing her parents a book but she no longer stayed tucked within their sheets. Charlie came and went as she pleased, often sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed while her parents brushed their teeth. She used their bedroom like she should have been using her psych appointments; not that Owen and Claire would ever turn her away. She read essays, sought schoolyard advice, conversed with her mother in French just for the practice leaving her father dazed and confused and pointlessly rambled to those who listened before they sent her off to bed.
They had gotten their space back but not the freedom to do as they pleased behind closed doors. Elliot, age eleven, slept through the night but still knew nothing of personal boundaries. Owen, in his age, felt more conscious having sex with his wife when there were teenagers in the house as opposed to toddlers. So, they waited until they left or any other opportunity of an empty nest.
They were supposed to be alone.
‘Get out.’ Owen growled, snapping Claire from her lust-filled revere. It took a second for her eyes to focus before she realised he wasn’t growling at her. Claire stilled, arms slipping from Owen’s neck to grip at his waist. She focused on the feel of his khaki shirt under the pads of her fingers as her heart thudded in her chest.
‘Dad?!’ Charlie’s voice shrieked as Claire let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.
‘Now.’ His voice boomed, hand flexing on Claire’s hip. She found courage in the sound of her daughter’s voice, sure there wasn’t an intruder in their house, to peek around the corner into the living room.
Charlie was standing, seventeen-years-old, in front of the couch and shrugging her school blouse back over her shoulders as her fingers blindly fiddled with the buttons. It took a second for another head to appear, brown hair ruffled, face sheepish. Charlie had been caught red-handed playing hookie with a boy and the heat was radiating off Owen in waves. Claire could feel his muscles tense, the man using all his willpower to not lunge across the room.
‘Markus,’ Charlie sighed, voice agitated. ‘You don’t have to go.’
Owen scoffed, breaking away from his wife as he stepped into the living room, Claire clinging for the last shreds of his control. ‘Oh no, he does.’ He told his daughter, levelling the girl with a hard stare as the boy beside her shrunk. ‘Out,’ Owen threw his arm towards the door ‘before I throw you out’.
Charlie shoved at the boy’s shoulder, wrist rolling before she shook her hand through her hair. Markus moved, head down as he rushed for the door. Owen stepped in front of him, hands rolled into fists at his side. Both Claire and Charlie knew he wouldn’t touch the kid. ‘What the fuck did you think you were doing, Charlie?’ He aimed his question at his daughter, looking right over the boy’s head as he glowered.
‘Oh, so you can come home and play hookie in the middle of the day but I can’t?’ She asked hip cocked as she stood defiantly. Between the two of them, Claire could see they were playing with fire. Charlie was a ticking time bomb ready to go off and the fact that they hadn’t caught her doing this already was surprising. It had all been a matter of time. And Owen, he didn’t want to see his daughter like this or know it was a possibility. Claire was sure Charlie and Elliot could grow into their thirties, marry and have babies and Owen Grady would still think their bodies hadn’t been touched.
‘Let the kid go, Owen.’ Claire stepped towards him, her hand gently squeezing his forearm.
Charlie climbed over the couch, narrowly avoiding both her parents as she escaped towards the stairs. ‘Fuck you.’ She yelled over her shoulder, heavy feet banging on the stairs as she ascended.
Markus slipped out the door, catching his escape as Charlie distracted her parents. ‘I’ll call you later, Char.’ It took the last of Owen’s withering control to not chase after the kid who went sprinting down the street.
Owen turned, shoulders straightened as his hands still remained in tightly wound fists. He took four steps towards the staircase before Claire stepped in front of him jumping up on the bottom step and spreading her arms across the gap there. ’Stop.’ She demanded. ‘I need you to take ten minutes to breathe before you go up there ranting and raving to that girl that she shouldn’t be and can never have sex.’ Claire didn’t pull her eyes from his, they had been together for eighteen years. Nothing was going to make her back down.
‘Claire,’ He breathed, sighing her name gently. ‘She’s seventeen.’
Claire nodded. ‘I’m sorry, how old were you when you started luring girls into your bed?’ She asked, cocking a brow and already aware of the answer. He and Charlie were one in the same. Claire didn’t need to comment on the irony of catching them in their house instead of his. ‘This scares the shit out of me too but you can’t go in there telling her what she is doing is wrong. It’s not advisable but if we go against her on this, Owen, it won’t be pretty.’
He shook his head, hands on his hips as he took a step back. Owen couldn’t do this. It was out of his thought processes. There was no way he was going to be able to look at Charlie and have this discussion with her.
Claire sighed, eyes rolling as she dropped a hand to her husband’s large shoulder. ‘Go cool off, caveman. I’ll talk to her.’
They couldn’t just ignore what they walked in to. It was twelve in the afternoon and Charlie was supposed to be at school. That was a matter Claire wanted to deal with first before broaching the subject of why they found their daughter sans shirt and if she was being safe.
She knocked once on Charlie’s closed door, Claire sucking in a deep breath before she pushed it open. There were days when she lost sight of her children’s growth. It was so easy to think back to when Charlie and Elliot were just little girls in need of bottles and diaper changes. It was hard to think of them as grown-up, ascending into adulthood as the years started to quickly pass them by.
One minute Charlie was begging for the book and the next she was shouting for Claire to go away.
‘I can’t.’ She told her daughter, addressing Charlie’s third shout of ‘leave me alone’. ‘You need to go back to school.’ Charlie had her back to Claire, curled up on her bed, legs tucked to her chest as she faced the wall.
‘You seriously cannot send me back there.’ Charlie whimpered, shoulders shaking as she let out a sob she couldn’t contain. Claire was concerned immediately. In the living room Charlie had been furious and now she was crying, the sound desperate in the back of her throat.
‘Charlie, you can’t just skip school.’ Claire asked, crossing the room slowly before she sat on the end of Charlie’s bed, legs crossed, shoes discarded on the floor.
‘I’ll be a laughing stock!’ Charlie whimpered half on a shout as she sat up, pulling her legs deeper into her chest as she pushed herself against the wall. The space between them increased as Claire watched the girl with concern. She asked a soft ‘why’ hand reaching out to touch Charlie’s shin. ‘All those assholes said I’m nothing if I’m not having sex.’ Her eyes watered, shimmering blue as she glared at her mother. ‘What the fuck do I care?’ She scoffed at herself, knowing her mother’s next question. ‘I planned to get caught.’ Claire gave her a puzzled look, head tilted, brow raised. ‘I heard you and Dad talking last night. Making plans to come home today. I thought, if I got caught and dad scared Markus off then I would have an excuse to fight it off a little longer. He’ll be too scared to touch me now.’ She shrugged, drying the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand.
Claire grinned. She knew Charlie was cunning, knew the girl couldn’t possibly have been stupid enough to get caught. But, then again, on a typical day, Charlie didn’t know they came home for a rendezvous.
‘Baby, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. These other kids, they can’t pressure you into it.’
Charlie nodded, tears bubbling again. ‘I just want them to leave me alone.’
‘You’re not ready.’ Claire offered, nodding softly as she waited for Charlie to agree. Instead, her daughter burst out into tears again.
Charlie shook her head. ‘I’m ready.’ She told her mom with a confident voice regardless of the shake in her voice. ‘I just don’t want to. I’m not interested. Is there something wrong with me?’
‘I read this book in college. It was a philosophy text and God knows why I had even picked it up in the first place. But, it taught me some things I know I have shared with you before but I want to share them again.’ Charlie knew what was coming as her mother shuffled forward and squeezed her hand. ‘You can’t help the things you feel, Charlie, only the things you do. That's what feelings are, that's why they’re called as such; because you feel them, they rise in your body and cause a storm in your head. You don’t think them into fruition. What counts,’ she squeezed Charlie’s hand harder, ‘is what you do with that emotion’. Don’t ball it up and throw it at your sister. Don’t take it out on the kids at school. Don’t hold it in until you’re blue in the face and screaming at nothing in particular. Don’t suppress your happy because you’re guilty. Live. Love. Laugh it out as all those home decor slogans say. God. How many times had she heard her mother say that in her lifetime? She hadn’t heard it much but in seventeen years the lesson popped up more than once.
There had been a time a few weeks after Max passed when it really sunk in that the little boy wasn’t coming back. It was when their minds started to adjust but their bodies couldn’t keep up. Charlie had howled, gut-wrenching cries that sent both parents barrelling into her room. She couldn’t see much through her tears and the dark light but she would never forget catching her mother practically falling through the doorframe. Claire had sunk into Charlie’s bed immediately, pulling the girl into her arms to try and fix her aching heart before she knew what was wrong. Owen; confident that his wife could solve the issue, when and popped his head into Elliot’s room comforting the little girl who had woken up with a fright.
Charlie forgot about Max for a split second before she went to sleep and when she remembered her guilt was immense. For a second, Charlie had been happy and couldn’t forgive herself for feeling so.
They didn’t realise until they lost Max that they had an emotional child on their hands. Charlie had always been so good at hiding it, never giving away her weakest hand until it was ripped from her, leaving the child bear.
That was the first time she remembered her mother wrapping her in warm vanilla scented arms and telling Charlie that it was okay to feel. It was okay to be angry and sad and a little hopeful that the happy would return. What mattered was the way Charlie used that emotion. She needed to be happy and Max’s memory could forgive her for that.
It was also the night before Charlie first noticed her parents put on a fake smile. They forced themselves through severe emotions when they felt it wasn’t appropriate for their children to see. That wasn’t to say she never saw her mother or father cry. She had, more than once in that first year and every year after that. She saw them fuming with anger and dancing around the living room joyous. Charlie knew her parents as complex emotional beings who struggled just as she did to pick and chose how she let the world see those feelings. It was comforting to know there was a dysfunction there between them, shared genetically.
‘If you don’t feel like it, Charlie, that’s okay. You’re not hurting anyone.’ Claire offered, squeezing the young hand off her daughter who only continued to shake her head.
Charlie had never before fallen victim to peer pressure.
‘Molly said there was something wrong with me if I didn’t like sex.’ She looked at her mother the way helpless animals did. There was nothing Claire could do or say to bring her daughter in from the rain.
These kids were wrong and that was hurting both Charlie and Claire enough as it was.
‘There are plenty of people who don’t like sex, Charlie. It’s perfectly normal. These kids, honey, they are kids. They don’t know anything about the world.’
Charlie scrunched up her face, eyes squeezing closed. ‘How could it be normal if it’s everywhere. You and Dad go at it like … like … rabbits!’ Claire felt her cheeks burn. Owen was right, they weren’t discrete enough. ‘I can’t watch TV without seeing it. Mom, I don’t think I ever want to have sex. I don’t think it’s gross or it’s stupid or that boys have cooties. I just don’t want to. Why does it have to be this massively regulated part of society? Why do they shove it down everyone’s throats? It’s so fucking stupid.’
She was struggling for what to say. Nothing was placating Charlie. She was only getting more agitated. What was Charlie trying so desperately to tell her that she didn’t have the understanding to comprehend.
‘You’re only seventeen, Charlie. You’ll meet someone one day and maybe it’ll all make sense to you.’ She praised herself on the ‘someone’, trying to communicate to Charlie that the world wasn’t always the prescribed norm of heterosexuality. Hell, both of her daughters had taken place in Lorna’s wedding when she married their new Aunt Kate. They were being raised in an accepting home. No one was going to think twice if either girl was interested in the opposite sex.
‘What if it doesn’t?’ Charlie quizzed, intense eyes staring holes into Claire’s weak statements.
Claire shrugged, ‘It will’.
Charlie shook her head again, red hair licking flames across her face. ‘You’re not listening to me.’ Her tears were hot on her cheeks, fresh as they slid across her skin.
‘Explain it to me then. Plain and simple.’ Claire asked, desperate to understand what was going on in her teens head. Charlie never cared about another persons opinion unless it was negative and not entirely deserved. She got into too many fights that way. It was rattling Claire how much her daughter was affected by this.
‘I don’t like the boys at school … or the girls … I’m not attracted to anyone and this dumb ass bitch is sitting there telling me I’m nothing because I don’t want to do the naked pretzel with these morons who only want to go share with all their friends what pussies they’ve seen. Nothing is a fucking secret at that school. I kid you not, Mom, I could draw you a diagram of everyone who has fucked someone else. And they want to pressure me into that party? Are you kidding? I feel like shit enough already because I-just-don’t-want-too and I’ve tried.’ Claire had her head in her hands, sigh heavy from deep within her chest no doubt at Charlie’s language than anything else. ‘I just needed to get caught so you and Dad could … I don’t know … ground me … never let me within ten feet of a boy. Banned from parties until I’m twenty-three. Something that gives me a legitimate excuse to stay away from these dick weeds before I’m forced into something I will regret. Please, Mama?’ Claire didn’t miss the way Charlie said her name like she was a little girl again, turning wide wet eyes on her mother in a desperate plea.
She had to be proud, first, of the daughter she raised strong-willed and understanding of her own personal struggles. Charlie knew she was going to regret whatever she did if left alone with a boy and pressured into having sex with him all to appease a certain group of girls at school. There were no teachers they could talk to on this, no principle meetings. Charlie rather melt right into the floor before that happened. Hell, she rather be caught, shirtless, boy on top of her by her father than go to her teaching faculty.
She was resourceful, Claire would give her that.
It was the deep seeded emotional distress that was throwing Claire off. The desperate need in her daughter’s eyes to be helped beyond what was happening in the schoolyard. ‘I want you to go talk to Aunt Lorna about this.’ Claire offered, at a loss of how else to help Charlie. Her sister-in-law struggled with her sexual identity for years. Claire hoped she could help.
Charlie nodded. ‘Am I grounded?’ She asked, winking softly as she laughed through the still wet tears on her face.
Claire nodded, a grin spreading across her cheeks as she leant in. With a forceful tug, she pulled Charlie into her arms, girl collapsing into her mother’s lap as she wrapped herself around Claire. ‘You know, Dad’s going to ground you for real?’ Claire asked.
Charlie nodded. ‘I don’t think I want him to know the truth. He’ll go full Hulk and I’m too tired to deal with it.’ She sighed, revelling in the touch of Claire’s hands through her hair. ‘Mom?’ Claire hummed. ‘Markus is a good guy. He’s actually my friend. He kinda knows that I didn’t want to do it. Just not that I was planning on being caught.’
Claire chuckled, ‘Oh baby, he’s never going to be allowed in this house’. She kissed the top of her daughter’s head unsure of how much she trusted Markus’ good qualities. ‘Can’t he just lie for you? If he’s such a good friend?’
Her daughter shifted in her lap, ‘I’ll save that for Plan D’. It worried Claire to hear her daughter had accumulated four plans. How many of them had she gone through in order to evade these girls pushing a socially expected norm on her?
‘Charlie.’ Claire started, voice stern. ‘I want you to own who you are. You’ve never once faltered in doing that and I don’t these other kids to break that streak. You are an amazing young person and I am so proud to be your mom.’ She squeezed Charlie to the best of her ability, the girl’s head in her lap. ‘These people are temporary. One day you won’t even be able to remember their names. Don’t work so hard to make them like you. Your education is far too important for that.’ Charlie nodded. ‘Have you been talking to Dr Larkin about this?’ She shook her head. ‘I think it might be worth your while to see what she has to say on this.’ The girl hummed, promising to bring it up at her next appointment.
Charlie Grady had been seeing a shrink once a month for nine years. Their sessions started out as more frequent affairs but once they sorted the base issues of Max’s passing Charlie’s doctor didn’t think she needed to come in as frequently. In fact, she had stopped going all together for a year a little while ago until she started getting into fights at school. Claire didn’t like the idea of her daughter having a permanent shrink but the need was there for Charlie to have someone to talk to. For the most part, it was working.
‘Do you want me to go for a walk or something so you can Dad can still have your lunch break? I can stay in my room, put my headphones on?’ Claire chuckled, sound catching them both by surprise.
‘I think the mood is ruined.’ She brushed the hair off Charlie’s cheek, giving her daughter a reassuring smile.
Charlie frowned, ‘Sorry’.
‘It’s okay. You come first.’
‘Well,’ Charlie started, confidence sliding back into place. This was the daughter Claire knew well, her bright, entitled, opinionated child. ‘It’s not okay. Just because I don’t want to have sex doesn’t mean you and Dad shouldn’t. Maybe I can take Ellie to the park on the weekend or something. I’ll do it whenever. Just let me know.’ She offered, smile generous.
‘I’m not going to start telling you when your father and I plan to have sex, Charlie, but thanks for the offer.’
The girl shrugged, ‘You’re not that subtle anyway. I can take a hint.’
Downstairs a door slammed, a loud reminder that Owen was still in the house and fuming over what had happened. It was only a matter of minutes before Charlie’s bedroom door opened again, Owen standing in the doorway. He was fighting every urge in his body, every want to raise his voice and go ballistic. He wouldn’t. Charlie knew that.
‘I don’t care what your mother has said. But, boys, Charlie, not happening. I don’t want them in my house, I don’t want them near you and I especially don’t want them near your sister. You’re banned. I can’t control what you do when you go to college but you’re not having sex while you’re still living under my roof.’ He was red in the face, fists still curled into angry hands.
Charlie nodded. ‘Okay.’ She agreed making her father double take as he stared at her.
‘Just ‘okay’? You’re not going to fight me on this?’
She shrugged, ‘You’re right. Boys are stupid and irresponsible. I should wait.’ She could feel her mother trying to suppress a laugh, Charlie dead serious as she looked her father in the eye. ‘One question though?’ He nodded, waiting. ‘What about hockey? And karate? Am I allowed to be near boys when it regards sports? Because that’s kind of unavoidable.’
Owen nodded, agreeing with Charlie’s statement. Her sports clubs were filled with boys her age, her teams unisex for most games. He couldn’t control that. ‘C’mon, get in the car. I’ll take you back to school.’
Claire spoke before Charlie could shake her head, ready to beg and plead with her father. ‘Ah, no. Actually, I forgot it was pupil free day today.’ She lied, Owen accepting it freely as he nodded.
‘It won’t happen again, Dad.’ Charlie promised sitting up as she offered him a weak smile.
Claire had no reason to doubt her daughter. Charlie had been tricky in the past, she liked to lie and misinform but this was something she was being honest about. They wouldn’t catch her again and Claire had peace of mind that her daughter would always be safe when out alone.
Owen only nodded, the same nonverbal thing his father did. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Come dinner time he and Charlie would be back to being best friends, the afternoon's events completely forgotten.
She would tell him one day when they had some time to themselves to address the issues their daughters were facing. For now, Charlie’s personal struggles would be safe with Claire. If she didn’t want to raise it with her father her mother could honour that for a little while. It wouldn’t make Owen think of her any differently. In fact, he would probably be pleased to hear Charlie wasn’t interested in the hormonal rush everyone else was feeling. He’d probably reward her; buy her car or pay for that overseas trip she was desperate to go on.
For now, she was still their little girl. Both parents bruised and wounded at the coming realisation that she wasn’t so little anymore.
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Twilight Chapter 11 review: Bella killed puppies when she was five. It’s canon. Meyer let me imagine it.
You know how a whole bunch of dudes were really confused by how popular Twilight was with teenage girls and soccer moms in its heyday despite how obviously bad it is (including me)? And how the common answer to that question was something along the lines of “Bella is written like a blank slate so that any girl can self-insert into her shoes, and Edward’s description is vague enough for any girl’s dream guy to fit”?
Well… they’re right. The whole point of chapter 11 is to establish exactly that.
The bulk of the chapter is dedicated to Edward asking Bella questions. Lots of questions; about her likes, her dislikes, her life before coming to Forks… If you can think of it, Edward probably asked it.
But here’s the catch: we don’t get to hear most of the answers. The majority of the questions are glossed over by Bella’s narration. The important thing is that Bella told Edward these things and Edward was intrigued; what those answers actually were remain unknown to the reader.
This gives a fan the opportunity to fill in the blanks with answers of their own. Since Bella didn’t divulge her “profile” information, a reader can choose whatever they want to be a part of it. It is admittedly a genius move from the standpoint of establishing a character as self-insert fodder. Not even RPG’s with featureless protagonists are as effective most of the time, since all the choices you’re given in video games are limited to a handful of options pre-decided for you by the game’s programming. The way Meyer did it, though? The options are quite limitless.
There were a couple of scenes that do the same for Edward. The chapter opens with Bella and Edward watching a video in Biology class together, and they do it again the following day later in the chapter. Of course, both times Bella is too distracted by Edward being next to her to pay attention to the movie, and whole paragraphs are spent dwelling on what Edward looks and feels like. And again… we don’t get a lot of concrete details. Aside from what is typical of all vampires in this universe (white skin, yellow eyes, rock-hard texture and cold to the touch), Edward isn’t given any objective description. Just subjective terms like “perfect” and “mesmerizing”, which will mean different things for different people. It gives female readers a lot of flexibility to imagine their ideal-looking vampire boyfriend.
Again, credit where credit is due. Meyer knew what she was doing on at least this basic level.
That being said, there are a few concrete answers Bella gives to Edward’s questions, and they break the immersion. In particular, four of Bella’s answers are revealed to us. In order:
-When Edward asks Bella what her favourite colour is, she says it’s brown. But only because she happened to be wearing a brown sweater at the time and she thinks that her favourite colour changes from day to day and she dresses in response to her changing preferences.
-When Edward asks Bella what CD she’s listening to, Bella opens up her player and shows it to him… while thinking that she hadn’t changed it from the one Phil gave her before she came to Forks. Edward nonetheless happens to have the same CD in his collection and shows it to her.
-When Edward asks Bella what she liked about Phoenix’s scenery, Bella claims to have had a lot of difficulty describing it to Edward… while describing it to us no problem.
-When Edward asks Bella what her favourite gemstone is, she immediately blurts out topaz, and adds that in a couple weeks it might become onyx. And thinks that it used to be garnet, but since meeting Edward it changed.
That first answer can break the immersion because a lot of people have specific favourite colours that are their favourites for very personal reasons. Now, I’m sure there are also people like Bella who don’t think that hard about their favourite colour, but for the people who do, the answer can be off-putting. The answer could also be off-putting for those that don’t though, because Bella’s answer sounds wishy-washy and reactive, as opposed to the firmer “I don’t have a favourite colour”.
The second answer does manage to keep the immersion, albeit unintentionally (I think). The implication is, I imagine, that Bella’s favourite music is what was in the CD player, and Edward also having the same CD is meant to show that they have similar interests. Problem is, the scene can be interpreted to show Bella’s lack of interest in music altogether. She never once changed the CD Phil gave her. Is that because she likes that particular CD so much she didn’t want to change it? Or is it because she cares so little about music that she didn’t bother with the CD altogether? Or is her favourite something else and she simply forgot to change it with all the vampire goings-on distracting her? Her favourite music could still be anything.
The third answer… Eh. It doesn’t really break the immersion all that much, but it is yet again an example of Bella not being very coherent around Edward. And a further reminder of the toxicity of their relationship; sure, Bella’s easily self-insert-able, but why would you want to self-insert into a relationship like theirs anyway?
And the fourth? That Bella’s favourite gemstone used to be garnet doesn’t really matter. The point is that your favourite gemstone is going to be topaz too if you meet Edward! And that’s insulting to people who are really big into gemstones. Or Sonic the Hedgehog. Or Pokémon. Or Steven Universe. Or RWBY.
Not that the latter two existed when Twilight came out, but still.
Let’s talk about that second one a little more. The CD player. That one in particular rubs me the wrong way because it makes Edward’s intentions obvious and paints them in a very bad light. When Edward asks to see what’s in Bella’s CD player, Bella remarks that Edward looked “as if he were expecting a murder confession”. You know what that tells me?
It tells me that Edward already knew what was inside Bella’s CD player before she opened it. Because you don’t expect murder confessions unless you already know they committed the murder.
And from there, Edward would easily be capable of finding and buying another copy of that CD that he could show to Bella as “proof they have similar interests”. He has the money and the speed for that. And he had plenty of opportunity to see that CD before because of his… visits.
That gives Edward’s massive question dump on Bella a whole new meaning. He doesn’t just want get to know Bella more; he is fishing for ammunition he can use to manipulate her. Edward wants to know everything about Bella so he can impress her with stuff she likes and threaten her with stuff she doesn’t. That’s why he is pressing Bella so hard. Edward can’t stand not knowing Bella’s thoughts and because of that he’s doing everything he can to control Bella’s behaviour and make it a routine he can predict.
Edward may have stopped the physical abuse from chapter 5, but he’s doubled up on the mental abuse in compensation.
You can even see it play out toward the end of the chapter. Edward spends several hours after school questioning Bella, right up until just before Charlie comes home, and ends the discussion by saying that he’s not done and will continue asking Bella questions tomorrow. Bella asks him what happened to taking turns, and Edward just shrugs her objection off by more or less saying his turn isn’t done until he says it is and leaves before Bella can make a counter-argument.
Edward seems to have forgotten that the questioning was heavily skewed in his favour already. When Bella asked Edward questions in chapter 10, she only asked a couple during the ride to school in the morning and the rest were at lunch. Not only did Edward ask Bella questions during the ride before school and during lunch, he asked them during the ride after school and for several hours after that. Edward already asked Bella way more questions than Bella asked Edward, and Edward is still demanding a second day in a row. Their “relationship” is unfairly biased toward Edward, and given what happened with the CD player, I have a feeling that’s deliberate on Edward’s part.
Edward won’t just settle for eavesdropping on Bella’s conversations with his mind-reading and watching her sleep every night, oh no. He won’t be happy until he can micromanage every aspect of Bella’s life.
I’ll repeat what I said in chapter 5 about when Edward dragged Bella to his car:
Anyone who claims that Edward and Bella are not in an abusive relationship has not read the books.
Speaking of Edward eavesdropping on Bella’s conversations with his mind-reading, after the first Biology video, Edward walks Bella to Gym class and briefly touches her face before leaving (except not really. Remember the mind-reading?). Mike asks Bella to be his badminton partner, and since Bella’s more out of it than usual (almost getting raped the previous night and getting used to a romance with a vampire will do that to you), she accepts and lets him cover for her. Mike then proves he’s a badass in his own right; he can win doubles badminton matches while playing solo more often than not.
And Jessica chose this man. She has good tastes. On top of good everything else.
Bella doesn’t seem to agree with me. She, for some reason, thinks that it’s a miracle that Mike still has some chivalry left in him.
Excuse me?
Mike was nice to her on her first day of school (she liked him more than Edward back then!). He skipped school to make sure she was okay after Tyler’s accident (everyone did, but still). He took Mr. Banner sticking a needle in his finger without his consent like a champ and went on to escort two sick students to the infirmary during the same period, including Bella herself. And when Edward stole Bella away from him, Mike had the courtesy to not rat Edward out of playing Hooky. And he apologized to Jessica for asking Bella out in front of her by asking her out.
Mike has always been chivalrous. Aside from that one time during the trip to La Push, and Bella was an eyewitness to him redeeming himself for that.
What, does Bella hate Jessica so much that she assumes Jessica will ruin any man who dates her? Then why did Bella encourage Mike to go out with her? Did she really expect that Mike would turn to the dark side and that she’d be okay with it as long as Mike would stop bothering her?
Actually… yes. Yes she would be okay with it. She’d be okay with Edward being a human-eating monster, so Mike being an asshole is no trouble to swallow at all.
Also, after Gym class Mike confronts Bella about her seeing Edward and voices his disapproval. He makes it clear that he doesn’t like it and that Edward looks at Bella “as if she were something to eat”.
Bella is annoyed by this and blames Jessica for it, cursing her to “the fiery pits of Hades”.
Wait, so I’m supposed to dislike Jessica for telling her boyfriend that their mutual friend is dating a predator and said friend didn’t listen to her objections during Trig?
Ha ha, no. It just makes me like Jessica even more.
And knowing Jessica, if she were sent to Hades, she’d just march right out of it and take an endless supply of hellfire with her to kill Edward with if he so much as bruises Mike or Bella.
Jessica takes no shit from vampires, so she’d take no shit from Greek gods of Death either.
And I’m also supposed to dislike Mike for objecting to Bella being with Edward, and to be fair Mike does have a personal stake in the matter (he did have a crush on her and still might consider Jessica sloppy seconds… to his error, naturally) and Bella is right to say that who she sees is none of Mike’s business… but only if Mike’s only reason for objecting is that he wants Bella for himself.
That is by no means the only reason Mike is objecting. Mike caught Edward skipping and forcing himself on Bella while she was sick from the blood typing lab. That means that Mike saw Edward’s abusive behaviour first-hand and knows he’s dangerous. It’s only natural he’d disapprove of any of his friends dating him whether he was crushing on them or not. He’d make the same objections if it were Jessica, Angela, or even Lauren dating Edward. Just like with Jessica in chapter 10, what Meyer’s trying to sell as people sticking their noses where they don’t belong is actually two of Bella’s friends genuinely looking out for her.
Meanwhile, the guy that is genuinely invading Bella’s privacy gets no comeuppance or lasting disapproval for doing so; all the complaints Bella makes about Edward using his mind-reading to eavesdrop are swept under the rug and ignored in favour of gushing over his looks.
Damn… The hypocrisy in this novel is palpable.
The chapter ends with a surprise visit to Bella’s house by Jacob and Billy Black (Edward kept them coming a secret from Bella) with Charlie just behind them. We’ll see what that’s all about next time.
#twilight review#anti bella swan#Edward and Bella is abuse#Jessica Stanley is awesome#tropes#escapist character#self-insert#bastard boyfriend#designated villain
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