#also i just finished grad school last week and barely got a break | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1994sunflower · 3 years ago

Note

Hey! First of all, I love your story SO MUCH, you’re such an amazingly talented writer! Also, I was wondering if you could dig deeper into Micheal’s soft side (never get tired of it) in which maybe Y/N is sick, like she collapses for high fever or something, and he has to take care of her

thank you so much!! and ofc, I love exploring michael's soft side. he can be such a sweetheart when he wants to be (which is like never lol).

in which you’re sick

It would have been bearable if it was just exam week. You’d done that a million times. But the fact that you were also doing grad school applications along with your extracurriculars - suddenly you felt as if there was not enough hours in the day. In a week even.

Even with the sacrifices you’d made. You’d taken to forgetting food times. When you did remember, you’d have to eat during one of your other activities, usually studying and that just led to spills and half eaten food. It had only been about a week into these habits that you had gotten sick with a cold. It wasn’t a surprise, you were overworked, exhausted - no wonder your immune system was depleted. But it made your work and concentration that much more difficult, you’d cried more than once at the circumstances.

But maybe the hardest has been forgoing seeing your beloved boyfriend. It wasn’t that he was a nuisance, it was just that he was distracting and right then, you didn’t have to time to deal with distractions. Lest he succeed in distracting you like he so often does.

It’s been nearly two weeks since the last time you saw him. Something he agreed very begrudgingly to. But he knew how important your grades were so he agreed nonetheless. You texted him nearly hourly but still it felt nothing like having his comforting presence right next to you. It might have been the reason you caved and let him come visit you after he insisted. Not that he likely would have accepted your denial. He missed you just as much and he needed to see you, especially with how worried he was starting to become.

He used the excuse of bringing you lunch and you, weak and missing him, accepted it, knowing he would probably try to stay for much longer than just that.

But you could deal with that and him firmly when it came to that. He always listened to you.

You were at your desk, crumpled papers beside you, tissues, and about ten different tabs open on your computer, with the beginnings of one of your many application essays open on your tablet. You kept alternating between the two works and by the end of it, you almost felt a hysterical scream wanting to leave you. Nothing was good enough.

When you heard the keys clinking at the door, was the only time you had snapped out of your almost unhealthy focus on your work. By the time you realized just how awful you look, it was too late. Your hair was in a ponytail, different strands already falling out of the scrunch by how much you tugged at your hair in frustration. You wore no makeup and the bags under your eyes were more prominent than ever. The sick pallor to your face was probably so much more obvious, if the sniffles and occasional cough didn’t give your sickness away. Not to mention the pajamas that still adorned your body.

But Michael had already opened the door before you could even think of last minute changes to your appearances. All you could do was turn around in your chair to face him, clearing your throat in hopes of pushing back any coughs.

Just as it’d been nearly 2 weeks without seeing him, it’d been 2 weeks of you living this mentally drained lifestyle. And you looked it. Not that it mattered. Michael had never made you feel insecure or anything but the prettiest girl he’d ever laid his eyes on. He loved you, no matter how you looked.

And that was proven when he finally took you in after 2 weeks of not seeing you. His eyes shone with the same love they always held when he looked at you, now with also a sense of relief at finally being right with you. No hint of judgement.

There was a third emotion there too. Worry. But you didn’t have time to try to dissect it because you knew it would just lead him to get you to take a break and lose time you could be spending on working.

Normally you’d be the one who greeted him first, excitedly. But you were too tired to hold that same energy and you hadn’t used your voice for anything other than frustrated groans. All you could do was smile weakly when Michael lifted the bag of food in his hands. The action made you swoon just a bit, you knew it was likely his first time being so attentive to someone, going beside himself to make sure they’re fed and bring it to them. He never would have the same detail with anyone else.

“Got your favorite.” Michael gravely voice finally hit your ears and you had to close your eyes for a second. You’d missed him, much more than you had allowed yourself to think of.

Opening them back up took more effort than you wanted to think of. It seemed that now that you weren’t hyper focused on the work in front of you, the mental tiredness you had been ignoring was finally starting to seep in.

When you stood, you had meant to say a ‘thank you’ before walking over to serve your food but the moment you got to your feet, you felt a wave of dizziness overtake you. Your body swayed for a moment, only stopping when one of your feet that had almost lost its footing, stomped down and you took a hold of the back of the chair you just left. Eyes closed tightly to try to center yourself.

When you opened your eyes, Michael was staring at you with wide eyes, intense with the worry that had been there before much more prominent. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, coughing slightly despite yourself. “Yeah, sorry. I think I might just be hungry.” You tried for a giggle to lessen the mood but Michael didn’t smile or relax at all. His eyes just raked in your figure.

“Are you sick?” That would have been bad enough but if he knew you were sick and didn’t tell him so he could have made sure you were okay, all hell might break loose.

“Sorry I didn’t have time to make myself look better today, okay?” Your tone was a lot snappier than you intended for it to be and that he expected, as evidenced by him rearing back in surprise. You were just so tense. But instead of apologizing you just made your way over to him. No wobbling, no swaying. You were fine.

You didn’t want to deal with defending how you took care of yourself (or rather how you didn’t). You didn’t have time anyway. You’d barely have time to eat what he brought you but the least you could do was eat a bit of it.

“It smells great.” You sniffled. You tried to reach for your food but Michael moved the bag back. His eyes never left you, analyzing every little move you made. It was unnerving. You couldn’t imagine how others withstood his gaze whenever he was angry at them.

“Y/N-” You made an impatient sound. Every time he said your first name, he was serious. And somehow, right then, it made you defensive. “You said you only needed a few weeks to focus on your shit and that you’d be fine without me having to check on you.”

“I am fine.” You muttered yet you couldn’t quite meet his eyes when you said it.

“Yeah? Is that why you got dizzy just from fucking standing up?” His words were harsh and loud but you knew it was because he never really figured out how to show concern any other way. He was worried.

“I told you, I’m just hungry. I didn’t have breakfast today.” But maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say because you saw his eyes flare up with even more concern and anger. But right then, after spending days multitasking and still not even making a dent on the work you needed completed before your rapidly approaching deadline, you were able to match those emotions.

“Michael, I’m really not in the mood to argue with you today, okay? I’m busy and if I’d known you came here to judge everything I’m doing I would have told you not to come. I’m doing my best! Why is that….why…”

It was getting hotter in the room. You’d felt the warmth all day - week even - but as your anger and voice rose, so did the temperature. You barely had time to register the light headedness.

Your breath was shaky by the time you finished your rant and your eyes becoming suddenly distant as you looked around, confused, before you were falling backwards. You would’ve hit the ground if Michael hadn’t moved first and caught you in his arms.

You didn’t hear the frantic calls of your name, more scared than perhaps anyone had ever heard him, the apathetic man he was, sound. You didn’t feel the way Michael’s hands gripped your body, trying not to move you too much lest he do more damage. You didn’t feel the same dropping of his heart when he saw you go down and the freezing fear in his veins. The only thing you felt was his huge, shaky, sigh of relief when you opened your eyes a handful of seconds later.

With much effort, fluttering them to try to keep them open. You couldn’t really see what was in your line of vision, everything was so blurry. Eventually, it was too much effort and you kept them closed, but you felt yourself being picked up and carried. His heartbeat was fast, you felt as he carried you with your face pressed against his chest.

The first movement you made when he finally put you down on the soft bed was furrow your eyebrows, then your hand was rubbing your face. By the time you opened your eyes, confusion set in “What…?”

You didn’t finish when you looked beside you, seeing Michale on his knees next to the bed to be on your level. He looked paler than you’d ever seen him, eyes wide and watching you like a hawk.

It was then that it hit you that you didn’t really know how it ended up that he carried you into your room. You remember getting mad at him, the warmth that slowly overtook you, then the next thing you knew, you were in his arms.

Panic struck you next. How much time had you wasted? You had a final paper due by the end of the week. You had to submit an application in two days.

But when you attempted to sit up, much too fast if your dizzying head was anything to go by, Michael pushed you back down. No longer trying to negotiate with you. His eyes shown fiercely - letting it known that there was no room for compromise.

You couldn’t stop the four coughs that escaped you as you stared at him, pleadingly.

“Don’t.”

“But I have to-”

“You just fainted, Y/N.” Michael almost sounded mad but the waver in his voice gave away his true emotions. “You’re sick and your body’s exhausted, obviously. You’re not going to do shit. You’re going to rest and I’ll…handle it. Contact your professors or whatever so…don’t worry about deadlines or anything.”

His voice made it clear there was no point in fighting against him. Even though his relationships with professors was less than friendly and he never cared enough to ask for extensions for anything before in his life.

He took your hand in his big ones, dropping his head to rest his forehead on top of your fingers. As gentle as you’d ever seen him. “Why haven’t you been taking care of yourself?”

You didn’t answer for a long time and you were grateful that he wasn’t looking at you anymore so he couldn’t see the way your eyes filled with tears and your lip wobbled. You didn’t mean to scare him, or neglect yourself. But if you took the time to do anything else, you’d be behind. You were so tired.

“I d-don’t know.” You said as a few hot tears ran down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

You felt his hands brush some of your hair from your face softly. “You scared me.” He admitted and somehow, you knew that for Michael, admitting that weakness was hard. But he didn’t mind being vulnerable in front of you.

His eyes bore into you, almost too intensely for you to be able to handle. Until his hand came up to your forehead and you found the excuse to close your eyes so you wouldn’t have to watch the worry in his.

“You have a fever.” He got up and you didn’t even get the chance for your sluggish brain to wonder where he went before he was already back, carrying a small bowl of water with a rectangular mini-towel on top. You weren’t sure how he knew exactly what to do for you, how he seemed so soft and tender in these actions that were so unlike him.

He put the cool, wet towel on your forehead as he sat next to your lying form on the bed. He was so close to you, leaning over you. You were scared he would get sick because of you but when you finally opened your mouth to speak again and told him so, he ignored you. As if that was the last thing he was worried about.

From the moment you collapsed, his attention had been on you and nothing else. Nothing else mattered in his mind. And that translated in every attentive action that made you feel so taken care of. This side of your brash boyfriend, the caring, delicate side at a time when you needed it most nearly brought tears in your eyes. It made it very obvious that despite what he might seem to everyone else, he was the perfect boyfriend, would make the perfect husband. For you. He made you feel supported and at home even when your body and energy seemed to be turning their backs on you.

“I’m hungry, Mikey.” You tugged at his sleeve. You weren’t sure if you were, really. You’d gotten used to the pulsing headache from the lack of food throughout the week. But judging by the heaviness of your eyelids, threatening to close and the weakness in your body, in your energy, if you didn’t eat, you might shut down again.

Your voice was croaky but he didn’t comment on it. His answer was almost automatic, “I’ll get the soup I brought you.”

You’d almost forgotten why he had been there in the first place. He’d insisted because he had missed you. And you missed him. He came to take care of you, going out of his way to do what he would never do for anyone else, just never imagining you were at your limit.

It was almost embarrassing. Being in your weakened state in front of him and having him tend to you like a child. Especially when, sitting up in your bed with a disorientation and a feeling of tiredness that seemed to be the only things you could truly feel at the moment. Plus the muted feeling of stress that never seemed to go away; it was screaming that you should be doing your work, that you’d fall behind.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on it before Michael came back with a bowl of warm soup in his hands and sat next to you again. Saving you even from your own thoughts without realizing it. He placed the soup on your nightstand and it wasn’t until he began to get a spoonful that you realized he meant to actually spoon feed you.

To think of your boyfriend doing anything so nurturing seemed almost unnatural. Yet here he was, without an ounce of hesitation or embarrassment. It was such as mismatch from his personality, his reputation and it melt your heart to think that he cared about you so much to throw all of that away for you and his worry for you.

You could only manage a feeble, “You don’t have to…”

Michael stared at you silently for a while, not a decipherable emotion seen in his face, before bringing the spoonful of soup up to your lips. “I want to.”

And while you knew Michael wasn’t a big talker, those three words dripped with sincerity. Matching the loving actions and gestures he was currently doing for you. It was clear, if it wasn’t already before, that nothing was more important than being there for you when you needed him the most.

He didn’t let you talk again until you finished the food, feeding you each sip. Until he was satisfied that you had eaten enough to compensate for your lack of nutrients the weeks he spent without you. This was just as new to him as it was for you to see, this side of him. Doing things that he never would have dreamed of doing for someone else. But it felt like second nature when he saw the woman he loved more than anything else in such a vulnerable state. He yearned to take care of you, to provide for you. To keep you happy and healthy. Especially with how often you take care of him.

“Was it good?” He asked. Though he knew you would’ve liked it. If not simply for the fact that you hadn't eaten much else then certainly for the fact that he went out of his way to go to your favorite restaurant and pick your favorite item from their menu. The one you got every time he took you there.

You nodded, “Thank you.”

You weren’t expecting it when Michael enveloped you into a hug. So tightly you couldn’t even hug him back even after you got over the shock. His face was buried in your tangled, messy hair. He breathed you in as if taking in the fact that you were okay, he mumbled into your hair, “I know how much you care about school and how hard you try because of that but….none of that shit matters compared to you.”

It was so hard for him to be without you for so long. But he did it for you, to give you the time you had asked for to focus on your work. It had never occurred to him the bad mental state the solitude could leave you in, what it would do to your physically. If he had known, he never would have let you be alone. He would’ve fought you tooth and nail if it was what it took but he would have checked up on you, been there for you. And that’s exactly what he’ll be doing from now on. He’ll be there for you.

“Get some rest,” He reluctantly let you go. “You need to sleep.”

When Michael got up, though you were objectively much too warm because of your fever, you felt a lonely cold. You didn’t want him to stay away so you could study and work anymore. You needed him and all the comfort he brought to your soul. And he didn’t want to leave you anymore either.

“Mikey!” You called to him as he switched off the light to your room. You heard him hum in answer. “Don’t leave, please.”

He didn’t answer you. But you felt him get into bed beside you, kicking off his shoes as if it wasn’t the middle of the day - as if he had nothing else he would rather do than sleep right then next to you. And by the way he put his entire day on hold the minute he saw your condition, you guessed he didn’t. You had an inkling that while you had every intention of not letting him distract you when he had first arrived, that he had already been planning on staying the entire day anyway.

You were glad he did. You wouldn’t have been able to keep going the way you were if he hadn’t forced you to confront your self-neglect and tended to you with such dedication and love.

Both of you were silent and you could feel your tired body begin to drift to sleep when your boyfriend spoke up from beside you. “Promise me you’ll start looking after yourself, no matter how stressed or how much stuff you have to do. Promise.”

You weren’t snuggled into him like you would want. But you could feel him on his side, staring at you in the dark. His voice was serious with a hint of desperation. He needed to hear you say it. To know that his loved one would never be put in such a mistreated circumstance ever again, you didn’t deserve it. Nothing deserved to have you feeling anything but cherished, healthy and confident. Not even yourself. Because he believed in you so completely.

Though he never planned on leaving your side, emotionally or physically, to have any negativity enter your thoughts or habits ever again. He was willing to carry the weight of the world if it meant you would feel the strength and happiness that had been beat out of you.

“I promise.” Your words were small but it was good enough. Michael took you in his arms then, again not caring for any risk he was running of getting sick himself.

The next time you spoke, it was mumbling against his shirt. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I must’ve looked so gross because I didn’t really get ready all week and I-”

“Shut up.” His words held absolutely no bite, they were whispered. “I don’t give a damn what you looked like today. You never look bad to me. I only cared about making sure you were okay. And I’ll keep being here to make sure, I’m never leaving you alone again. I promise. No matter what you say.”

Your heart felt so full at his sweet words, just for you.

Then it was back to the comfortable silence. Until you began coughing again, this time against his chest and you tried to pull away quickly, both scared for his health and embarrassed. “Michael, seriously, you’ll get sick.”

But Michael’s strong arms were like steel bracketing you to his body. Unmoving despite your protests. He only cared about finally keeping you to him, where he knew he could protect you and keep you close, especially after so long without you and having your health deteriorate because he wasn't around.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll get my own class extensions then if I do.” He said it seriously, and knowing his academic achievement, or lack thereof, you didn’t doubt he meant it.

But still, you couldn’t help but giggle at his words, knowing he was smiling right alongside you without even having to see it. It felt foreign, laughing after so long of your negative thoughts and stressed lifestyle but nice especially because of all those things. A positive, carefree spirit that filled you because of your loving boyfriend and being so cocooned in his protection right at that moment.

#5sos #5sos fluff #5sos angst #michael clifford #michael clifford x reader #michael clifford fluff #michael clifford angst #bad boy michael #bad boy fluff #bad boy angst #5sos imagines #college au

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mcwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!

In which the reader is the musical guest at Saturday Night Live the same week Tom Holland is hosting.

Ship: Reader x Tom Holland

Word Count: 5747 (what in the heck?? my longest piece ever lol)

Warnings: Mild alcohol consumption

Rating: K

Preface: I mention the NBC page program, which is like an intense internship/fellowship with the company where college grads work with at least 3 parts of the company over a year to get job exposure. A lot of famous actors and actresses were pages!

***

Walking into 30 Rockefeller Center on Wednesday afternoon was a surreal experience for sure. As a young NBC page led you through hallways and up to studio 8H, you were getting butterflies.

On one side of the hall was a sign for studio 8G, which hosted Late Night with Seth Meyers, but the page turned the other way, guiding you through doors to the Saturday Night Live studio.

There was hustle and bustle all around you as she took you to your green room, which had a sign printed with your name on it over an NYC skyline. You almost pinched yourself.

You had known for about a month that you’d be performing as the musical guest for SNL the upcoming weekend, but now that you were here for your first rehearsal, things were getting real.

When your manager had asked if you wanted to play the show, she’d been met by your enthusiastic “YES! Are you kidding me?!” It was even better when she mentioned who the host would be:

Tom Holland.

You’d watched every season of SNL since you were probably in middle school. You could easily name off every cast member but would have to remember to keep your cool until after Saturday.

Another thing you’d need to stay cool about was Spiderman himself. You had the biggest crush on him, but who your age didn’t? He was charming and British, disregarding physical features. You were most nervous to meet him.

The page let you put your things down and took you to Lorne Michael’s office where he and some of the production team wanted to talk to you about your set. You’d only get two songs, but one of the writers also asked if you’d want to be in a couple sketches, too.

Later that evening would be the normal pitch meeting, where writers who’d spent all Tuesday afternoon and night into the early hours of Wednesday writing finally got to show the host and cast their ideas. They’d narrow it down to eight, so you were surprised they wanted you in not one, but two sketches.

It wasn’t difficult to say yes to that. You wouldn’t be present for the pitch meeting, however, because in just a few short hours you’d be heading down to studio 6B to film a segment for Jimmy Fallon’s show.

Your management team stayed behind at the hotel to work on details for a couple concerts you had and were planning to head up to the studio before your interview.

After the meeting, you were shown around to familiarize yourself with the studio and stage before starting your first rehearsal. For one song, it would be just you and a piano, but the other song would have a band playing while you sang and did some limited choreography.

You sat in front of the keys of a beautiful grand piano, stretching your fingers. Someone requested you play one of your songs, so you looked around, as if asking for permission. Everyone in the room nodded for you to play, so you began the tune of your favorite song from your album.

Your voice wasn’t warm and there wasn’t a mic on you, but you got lost in the lyrics and chords like you always did. By the song’s end, you’d drawn a small crowd. They clapped and you blushed when you finished, closing the lid and standing to do a sheepish curtsy.

Most of the small crowd dissipated and you were talking to some crew about stage setup when someone interrupted you.

“Sorry to bother, but that was incredible. Can’t wait to hear how good you’ll be this weekend,” said a male voice with a distinct London accent. You turned to find Tom Holland right in front of you.

“Oh, well, thank you! I- I uh, didn’t expect to meet you so soon,” you stuttered, thrusting out a hand. “Y/n y/l/n.”

He gripped your hand firmly and shook it, nodding his head once, too.

“Tom Holland. You know I was excited when I heard you’d be performing the same week I host. The last film I did, we listened to your music like, all the time. You could say I’m a fan.”

Was this real? Tom Holland was a fan of you!? You chuckled.

“I could definitely say the same for you. I love your movies. ‘Been a fan for years.”

You both smiled happily and Tom was about to respond when the page who’d been showing you around the whole time came up.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Miss y/l/n, they’ve asked to get your measurements in costuming if that’s okay.”

“Oh! Yes of course!” you said to her, then turned to Tom. “Sorry. It was nice meeting you! See you around?”

“Of course! Nice meeting you also!”

As the young girl led you away again, you missed where a younger brother of Tom said to him,

“Think you’re in love yet?”

***

After an eventful visit at the Tonight Show that included you and Jimmy playing box of lies and performing one of your songs for the audience, you headed back up to 8H alone.

You’d remembered leaving something in your dressing room and had let your team go on back to the hotel without you. You’d felt confident that you could sneak back to your hotel safely without causing a big ruckus. It was only a few blocks away.

You were digging in your bag for your phone when you bumped into someone. Each of you said a quick “oh, sorry!” before looking to see who the other was.

It was Tom again.

You hadn’t realized before, but his room was the one right next to yours. It made sense, both of you being guests and all, but you were still caught off guard.

“Headed out?” he asked. You felt yourself blushing a little.

“Yeah, well. I just finished at Fallon’s and they don’t need me back here until tomorrow so I’m heading back to my hotel to order pizza for my whole team and then crash,” you laughed.

“Oh yeah? That sounds about like what we’re doing,” Tom gestured back to his brother and best friend, who you shook hands with gladly.

You talked as you wound through the halls and quickly realized you were all staying at the same place.

“That’s crazy! We were just going to get a cab if you want to just come with us. I’m already paying for it, so...” he offered. You were surprised.

“What? No, no, I couldn’t just ride on your coattails like that,” you started.

“No seriously, y/n. It’s fine! We’re literally all going to the same place and no one can bother us from a taxi cab. You don’t even have to talk to us if you don’t want to.”

You looked at the other two boys questioningly and they nodded, encouragingly nodding for you to accept the offer.

“Okay, okay! If all of you are fine with it, I’ll come.”

They cheered and you continued in happy conversation as you headed downstairs. A doorman called a cab for you and you piled in. Harry took the front and you offered to take the middle, sandwiched between Harrison and Tom.

Never in a million years had you expected to be in such close proximity to one, much less all, of them. It was a short drive and the driver took you to a back entrance, the place celebrities usually entered.

You still weren’t quite used to the star life. Up until you’d hit it big, it was normal for you to do pretty much everything yourself and stay in relatively cheap hotels like any other person.

Now, your management team handled most things and you were staying in five star places with secret celebrity entrances and prices that would probably make your grandmother faint.

Inside, you’d also realized you were on the same floor, both of you staying in large suites used by many elites over the years. You parted ways, anticipating seeing each other in the morning for rehearsals and later that evening when you’d be doing Seth Meyers’ show together.

***

The studio was buzzing when you entered Thursday morning. Your small team headed straight for the dressing room as you were taken away to a sketch read. Both sketches the writers had asked you about had been greenlit, so you were excited to work on them

“Morning, y/n. How was the pizza?” Tom asked cheekily when you first walked in. A couple of people passing by gave strange looks but said nothing.

“Well, who doesn’t love a good New York slice, huh? I’d say it was pretty darn good. And you?”

“We ended up getting room service, but pizza’s definitely next on my list,” he joked before you were handed scripts and asked to review them. The writers and cast were trying to figure out some basic spacing as you looked over your lines and cues.

You finally got to work rehearsing the two sketches. You broke a couple times when Kate landed a punchline and when Beck accidentally tripped.

When they decided to move on from those, you where whisked away to wardrobe and makeup to shoot "bumper” stills and videos, the photos and clips between sketches and commercial breaks.

You were excited to see how they envisioned your style and personality and would bring it to life. The photographer collaborated with you and shot some really incredible photos, both serious and goofy.

Next you were back in music rehearsals figuring out more about the staging and running some diagnostic sound checks. Once lunchtime came around, your stomach was growling.

You just barely caught Tom as you went for lunch, he was finishing up as you built your plate. As it always seemed, you only got a few words in with each other before someone was dragging Tom off for his own photoshoot.

You got to talk to Harry and Harrison for a little bit, too, until your manager asked to have a quick meeting about your schedule. Once you were free, you were taken to costuming to try a few things on and figure out hair styles that would fit the show.

There were more music rehearsals and you read the new scripts (as they had already been rewritten twice now). You were pretty tired by the time someone asked you to head across the hall to prepare for Late Night.

You grabbed a quick bite to eat on your way out of 8H and finished is by the time you were in the doors of 8G and a page led you to your green room, once again located next to Tom’s.

Since you were both doing SNL together, you and Tom were going to be interviewed together, but you also had the added bonus of being the musical guest again.

You only needed to rehearse a couple times to get the sound down (it’s not like it’s live, so you could easily restart if something went wrong). Once you were finished, they brought in the studio audience and you got a chance to go back to your green room and chill for a little while.

Seth had a couple other guests, so while you were waiting, you knocked on Tom’s door to greet him and discuss the talking points each of your management had given Seth.

As the in-house band was warming up, Seth came into the room.

“Well I didn’t expect to see both of you in here,” he joked, shaking both of you hands. Tom had been on the show before, but this was your first time meeting the host.

After a couple minutes, Seth was informed of the time and made his leave, going out to meet his audience and begin taping. After his monologue and the first guest, you and Tom were called to the stage.

“Now for our nexts guests we have both the host and musical guest of this weekend’s Saturday Night Live, Tom Holland and y/n y/l/n! Come on out here!”

Tom gestured for you to go ahead of him, so you walked out, waving to the cheering crowd. You took the seat nearest to Seth’s desk.

“Well hello, there. Good to see you two,” he greeted as you settled in. “Welcome back, Tom, and welcome for the first time, y/n.”

“Wait this is your first time here?” Tom asked incredulously. You laughed.

“Yeah! Up until a few months ago like, no one knew who I was. Not even Seth!” you poked right back. Seth jokingly agreed.

The interview went well, both of you telling some funny stories and explaining how the week was going. Finally, you cut for a commercial.

“Alright we’ll return with y/n and Tom after this short break!”

You were right back to the interview after the commercial “break.” Towards the end of it, you all got off on the subject of alcohol.

“You are 21, right?” Tom asked you. You rolled your eyes and gave an exaggerated hair flip.

“Yes, I am of the legal age. You should know as well as anyone what it’s like to have a baby face,” you roasted, causing the audience to go “ohh!” and Tom and Seth to raise their eyebrows.

“Wow looks like we’ve got a little rivalry now. The real question is who can handle their alcohol better. I think we oughta bring you two back for my day drinking segment to settle this!”

Both of you overconfidently pointed at yourselves when Seth asked who was better with alcohol.

“Now that’s an idea I can get behind!” you exclaimed before the interview finally wrapped up and you got ready to go sing. Tom and Seth stayed at the desk while you performed, which thankfully only took one shot.

As you wrapped up the show, you gave final waves to the audience and then headed offstage. You and Tom walked through the halls together and Seth caught up with you after finishing his outro.

He thanked you both for being on the show, you took a few pictures, then talked for a while. Seth was eventually called away to look at something, so you said your goodbyes to him and continued towards the green rooms.

“You were great tonight. Your voice is phenomenal,” Tom said to you. “and honestly I can’t believe you haven’t been doing talkshows that long. You’re a natural.”

“I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I love to talk about myself,” you quipped. “But seriously, thank you. Everything leading up to now has happened so fast, it’s hard to really gauge if things are going well or not.”

“I can relate to that. It’s hard, but having my family and brothers helps keep me grounded, you know? Harrison, too. They know that they can call me out and, yeah, I might get mad at first, but I understand that they’re keeping me from getting a big head.”

“Yeah I can’t imagine how overnight it must have been for you. My family and friends definitely don’t miss the chance to poke a little fun here and there to keep my ego down, too. You know, it’s nice talking to someone who understands for once. I love them, but unfortunately they’ll never fully get what it’s like, but you do,” you smiled.

You talked a little more, then spilt off to actually go to get ready to leave the building for the night. The upcoming Friday was going to be a long one.

Once again, you let your manager and assistant and everyone leave ahead of you. Regardless of whether you would hitch a ride with Tom again, you could find your way around easily.

You waited by the door until you heard their voices nearing and the boys came into the hallway.

“Oh y/n, you’re still here, too,” Harry said.

“Yeah, I was trying to decide what to do for dinner tonight before I head back to the hotel.”

“Well we’re going to grab some pizza if you want to join us,” Harrison offered happily, causing Tom to look at him funny.

“Y/n probably doesn’t want to be bothered by us all day every day and plus, she had pizza last night, I’m sure she doesn’t want it again. Sorry, y/n, don’t feel pressured by this div,” Tom said apologetically.

“Honestly, I could eat pizza everyday, so that’s not an issue, and I honestly love hanging out with you guys. You remind me of my friends back home. If y’all want to eat together, I seriously would not mind.”

“Really?” Tom asked incredulously, then recomposed himself. “Well, yeah, sure. We were gonna head back to the hotel to change clothes and then figure things out from there, is that okay?”

“That sounds perfect, except I’m paying the cab fare this time.”

***

In most situations, a group of guys you’d only known a couple of days asking you into their hotel room would be a major red flag, and it probably still should have been, but you threw caution to the wind and went to Tom’s suite anyways.

Harry answered the door and let you in, and inside you found Tom and Harrison on the floor of the living space drinking beers. They both raised their cans up to you as you came in.

All three of the boys were in simple sweats and t-shirts, similar to you in your leggings and sweatshirt. It wasn’t much later that Harry went to the lobby to retrieve the pizzas they’d ordered and you were all digging in, seated around the coffee table talking.

You all discussed random things, poking fun at each other like you were old friends. It was like they’d already accepted you as one of their own.

“How you think this weekend’s gonna go, y/n?” Tom asked between swigs of his ale.

“I’d say pretty good. I’m hella nervous though. SNL is like its own universe.”

“You can say that again. This is like nothing I’ve ever done before.”

“Oh, come on. You two are both going to do great Saturday. Don’t think too much about it and just have fun,” Harrison encouraged as you continued eating.

Throughout the evening, you couldn’t help but pick up on the way you and Tom kept making eye contact. It was brief, but it was different than how you and Harry or Harrison looked at each other. There was something else there.

Your stomach fluttered. Who else could say that they spent an evening drinking with their biggest celebrity crush? And then continually exchange flirty looks?

At one point Tom even tossed a wink at you after cracking a joke, causing your heartbeat to quicken momentarily.

After getting lost in conversation with the boys, you realized the time and prepared to excuse yourself back to your own room. The coming morning was going to be an early one, after all.

“Oh man, I better head out. We’ve got a long day ahead of us,” you commented, stretching as you stood up. The boys followed suit.

“Wow I didn’t even realize how long we’ve been sitting here,” Tom added.

“Yeah. Thanks again for letting me come over tonight. I haven’t gotten to do something like this in a while so it’s nice to just spend time with people who I don’t pay to hang around me all day, you know?”

“I understand and definitely can agree, since these divs are kind of paid to hang around me.”

You all laughed as Tom walked you to the door.

“Well. See you bright and early...” you trailed.

“Yeah, see you then,” Tom answered, awkwardly sticking out his arms for a hug. You obliged, squeezing your arms around his neck as his held your waist.

And goodness did he give good hugs.

***

You were definitely tired walking into 8H Friday morning. The caffeinated drink in hand helped a little, but late night beers paired with waking up early didn’t quite go hand in hand.

It wasn’t really a hangover either, since you hadn’t been fully drunk, but it didn’t help the exhaustion from traveling, working the past two days, and a lack of sleep.

The first thing you had to do was rehearse your songs for Saturday as the set team worked on transporting and putting together large set pieces that had been made at the navy yard in Brooklyn.

Tom and the cast weren’t far away, figuring the live show with costuming and quick changes along with doing some pre-filmed sketches. The writers were continually making adjustments and figuring out how things would be done.

They eventually called you over, too, to rehearse your sketches and film one of them. You had to get used to the costumes and cue cards and blocking of each. There had been some minor changes as well, so you had to be quick on your feet.

By lunchtime, all the cast took a well deserved break to sit and have a bite. The writers were having to shuffle around while they tried to eat as you and Tom sat down to talk some more.

“Hey, sorry to bug you, but do you guys mind if I take a picture or two for the SNL social media accounts?” a page asked while you were munching on sandwiches.

You and Tom looked at each other and shrugged.

“Fine with me,” you answered, Tom giving a similar reply. The two of you leaned in next to each other, holding up your sandwiches and laughing.

A few photos were snapped and you and Tom approved of them to be posted online. You thought nothing of it as you went to more rehearsals, working through the show’s order and trying to get down timing before Saturday’s dress rehearsal and show.

You couldn’t help but laugh watching the sketches, as this was your first time seeing the ones you weren’t a part of. Tom’s comedic timing and dry British humor paired well with the material he was given.

When the day came to an end, you were looking through instagram and gathering your things. You went to SNL’s page and put the post of you and Tom together onto your story, adding the text “Can’t wait for everyone to see my favorite sandwich partner host the show tomorrow!”

As before, you thought nothing of it and posted the story, heading out the door to ride back with Tom and the boys.

***

At the hotel, you and Tom had decided to not hang out for the evening since you’d be having a late, late night Saturday and wanted to get some sleep. You opened up social media as you laid in bed to wind down.

You decided to look at the picture of you and Tom from lunch again and read some comments, hoping there would be some funny ones and whatnot.

Instead, you found hundreds of comments saying “omg ship” and “my two faves together” and “this couple would be everything!!”

You were honestly shocked to see people saying that about you, especially since you had never heard of your fans indicating that they wanted to see you two together.

Twitter was also buzzing over you and Tom’s picture, some fan pages just talking about either one of you, while others also talked about shipping you.

In your heart, you kind of enjoyed it, since you were hardcore crushing on Tom now, but you had no idea how he felt.

Did he like you back? Did he just think of you as just a friend or acquaintance? Was he secretly dating someone and you were just reading too much into it?

It was much to think about, so instead you closed your phone and fell into a deep slumber.

***

You didn’t have to be in the studio as early as the past days since dress rehearsal wasn’t until 8pm and the show started at 11:30. You felt better rested than the day before, but butterflies were constantly erupting in your stomach.

You and Tom caught each other at the building’s entrance and went up the elevators together.

“Ready for tonight?” you asked, tapping a foot anxiously.

“Absolutely not. You?”

“Same here. Not only is it going to be watched by millions, but some of the most important people in my life are coming and I’m freaking out a little.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked softly. “And who would that be?”

“Well, my parents and some friends from home. I can sing in front of sold out stadiums but I still get nervous if I know they’re in a crowd. It’s stupid, I know.”

“No I totally get it. My parents and brothers will all be here, too, and my heart races when they watch my work. The best advice ever given to me, though was ‘turn nerves into excitement,’ and that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

You nodded and smiled up at him.

“That is pretty good. Thanks,” you replied as the elevator doors opened.

The halls were bustling with what seemed like every employee as you headed to your green room. It wasn’t long before you were being thrown updated scripts and rehearsing again.

Finally as dusk turned to night, the dress rehearsal audience seats began filling up. You were bouncing nervously in the hall as you watched the cast begin the cold open on a monitor.

“Nervous?” a male voice asked quietly next to you. It was Tom, of course. You bobbed your head from side to side.

“Excited,” you replied cheekily. He smiled and was about to say something else when a crew member came by to lead him to his starting place for the monologue. He gave a quick wave before heading backstage, instead.

The dress rehearsal went okay, certain jokes and lines being cut and rearranged by the end for time. Thankfully the audience received everything well, for the most part.

Your own music and sketches felt like a rush, but you were proud. Tom’s advice had really gotten to you, because you were bubbling with excited anticipation for 11:30 broadcast to begin.

There was about an hour between dress and the actual taping, so you scarfed down a few bites of food and tried to shake out some jitters. You also sipped some caffeinated hot tea and did vocal runs to stay in tip top shape.

Your friends and family stopped by the green room to say hi before they joined the audience, giving you hugs and encouragement for the evening ahead.

As the clock neared 11:30, you were walking down a hall already dressed for your first song when you almost bumped into Tom.

“Oh, hey! Great job at dress! You’re gonna do amazing,” you immediately said, making him beam.

“Thank you! And you too! Your voice is on fire tonight, as if it’s ever not.”

“You haven’t heard me try to sing sick, then. I sound like a diseased animal.” You shook your hands and head to dismiss yourself. “But, uh, earlier I was gonna tell you ‘break a leg’ and then I remembered you used to dance, sooo... merde.”

Tom raised his brows and chuckled.

“You know that phrase too?” You nodded. “Well then merde to you, too. Oh, and I was wanting to ask if tonig-”

Tom was cut off by someone once again needing to drag him away to prepare for the show, causing you both to toss waves at each other again. Maybe he’d finish his thought later.

This was it. The real deal.

You took that as a cue to find your place by the monitors until after Tom’s monologue and the commercial break, when you’d start moving to stand with the band.

The cold open landed well, and you felt chills hearing two of the cast yell,

“And live from New York, IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT!”

The classic jazz music of SNL played over the intro and Tom made his way down the iconic steps to do his monologue.

Your heart fluttered seeing him stand on that stage with a wide smile, waving at the crowd. He was dressed in a blue suit and his curls were styled just right. He looked incredible.

The monologue landed well and you felt an even bigger flutter as you heard Tom lead into commercial, saying the iconic line,

“We have a great show for you tonight! Y/n Y/l/n is here! So stick around we’ll be right back!”

With that the camera panned out and cut, and chaos began as the crew moved everyone to set the first live sketch. In the meantime, a prefilmed sketch played, the one you had participated in.

The audience cheered and laughed at your surprise appearance in the sketch, which made you feel really good. You had moved now to a place where you could see the stage in person.

The camera panned in as the audience applauded and the next sketch began. Even after having seen it multiple times that week, you couldn’t help but laugh as the ridiculous character Tom played so well.

When they cut to another commercial break, it was your time to get ready to sing the first song.

Your stomach fluttered like it always did before a show, but Tom shot you a thumbs up before the break ended and boosted your confidence. A camera was pointed in his face as he calmly said,

“Ladies and gentlemen, y/n y/l/n,” as he gestured towards you.

The lights came up and you began playing, and you became lost in the music like always. It came and ended quickly, and suddenly you were listening to the cheers of the audience. You waved and bowed in thanks as the cameras panned again.

Up came the weekend update, your favorite part of any Saturday Night Live. The jokes for the segment were typically written on Saturday, so many of them were new to you.

Tom came and stood next to you during the update with a bowl-cut red wig dressed in khakis and a sweater vest over a button up. You looked him up and down amused.

“Your performance was amazing,” he whispered.

“Thanks. You’re doing great out there. They love you,” you whispered back.

“I sure hope so. Hey I’ve been trying to ask if-” he started, but then was cut off by someone grabbing him and leading him towards stage for the next sketch. Your stomach fluttered again.

What could he possibly want to ask me?

The live sketch transitioned into a prefilm and then you were up again, this song was more energetic and included some choreography, and you felt confident in the shimmering gold bodysuit and boots you were wearing.

You happily danced and sung after Tom reintroduced you to the crowd and got a large round of applause. There was only one sketch left of the show and you were in it, so the team rushed you into a quickchange booth offstage to put on your costume and a quick wig.

The sketch began and you stood to the side nervously. When your cue came, you burst onto the stage clumsily, as directed by the script. Your character made some inappropriate comments to Tom’s which garnered you many laughs again.

It was satisfying.

Once the sketch ended, all that was left were the goodnights, so you were again rushed off to change into a cute jumpsuit and reaffix your hair. Tom came out in a blue suit with the jacket unbuttoned, a black tee underneath.

You rushed to take your place next to him as other cast members filed in around you, Lorne standing in the middle of the room watching to make sure everyone came out. The audience applauded as the music played and camera panned.

After they gave the final countdown, Tom began giving thanks to many people, from cast and crew, to family, and to you.

“I want to give a huge thanks to tonight’s musical guest, y/n y/l/n,” he exclaimed, gesturing to you. The crowd cheered and you laughed and waved, giving him a joking elbow.

“I love you all! Goodnight!” he finally exclaimed.

With that, the music was brought up and everyone began hugging as the credits rolled. You immediately turned to Tom and he to you, both of you throwing arms wide.

You wanted to hug him forever, but realized that it would look fishy and there were many people you still wanted to hug and thank.

Both of you pulled back, giving each other a quick “good job!” before turning to others.

***

You were finally offstage and had said quick goodbyes to your family, who wouldn’t be staying for the afterparty. As you headed towards the greenroom for the last time that night, you were stopped by Tom.

“Hey! Y/n,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Oh my gosh there you are!” you said, turning to give him another hug, this one more emotional and less performative.

“I’m serious y/n, you were incredible. I know I’ve said it a million times but you have a real gift. Not to mention your acting skills,” he said into the crook of your neck.

You pulled away to look at him, arms still loosely wrapped around him.

“Well thank you, but you were great too. Everyone loved you. I loved you out there.” You paused for a moment, arms sliding from his shoulders as you continued to walk down the hall. “You know I had a lot of fun this week. Doing this and just hanging out. I was really nervous to meet you.”

“I did too, and yeah, we were all super nervous to meet you, too. Like I told you before, we listen to your music a lot. But, uh, that being said. All night I’ve been trying to ask if you’d like to go to the afterparty with me?”

“Oh yeah that’s perfect! Are the guys coming too?” you asked enthusiastically, not detecting the nervousness in his voice.

“No, no. I mean, yeah they’ll be there but...” he stopped and you followed suit. “I’d like you to go with me with me. And ideally leave with me... alone.”

Your eyes widened and breath hitched. Now it clicked. He was asking you out.

“Oh! Well then... I’d like that very much.” You smiled.

“Yeah?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yeah,” you answered.

Let’s just say you were singing a different kind of tune that night once you left to your empty hotel room “with him.”

***

A/N: omg omg omg I started this story forever ago but finally got around to finishing it! No new marriage project chapter this week, I thought I’d just post this to hold y’all over ;) Thanks for reading!

Permanent tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl

If you’d like to be added, pls message or send an ask so you can verify that I’ve added you!

#live from new york it's saturday night #snl au #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #harrison osterfield #Harry Holland #tom holland spider man

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bettsfic · 4 years ago

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betts, any advice on how to get butt in chair and words on page when the non-writing parts of life seem to always get in the way? i'm a grad student in a non-writing field (counseling) but writing has always been one of my great loves. in high school I wrote all the time, finished multiple nanowrimos, but for the past few years I've barely written at all even though I think about my characters and plots literally every day...

unfortunately, the energy to write is a finite resource. if you’re using your creative, verbal, or intellectual energy to get through school, there’s not going to be enough left over to write. but it’s good you think about your characters and plots. that tells me your creative energy is still there, but the task of getting it on the page is where you might be worn out.

here are some general thoughts/tips that might help:

instead of typing on a computer, or even writing in a notebook, try writing on notecards. task yourself with filling out one notecard at the end of each day about the creative ideas you had. write out scenes or dialogue or whatever snippets came to you. keep them in a box, and then, when you’re done with school and have refilled your energy well, you can start a new project by going through your notecards.

write summaries instead of scenes. sometimes when i’m tired, i don’t have the energy to make images in my head and transfer those images onto the page, but i do have energy to break out a plot. so, try writing the summary of a story instead of the story. again, you’ll have all of this stuff waiting for you when you’ve got less on your plate. also, it’ll stretch your story plotting muscles.

find an accountability buddy. ideally, this person would also be a writer and you could do sprints together. schedule a time the same way you would to meet a friend for coffee. start a timer for 15, 30, or 60 minutes and write as much as you can. when the time is up, check in with each other to see how many words you got down. it also helps to do it over zoom and keep the mic/video off while you’re writing, and turn it back on when your time is up. if your buddy isn’t a writer, maybe you can find someone who has a goal too, like cleaning or drawing. the idea is, you schedule time together and check in on each other’s progress. i did this with a friend when i started querying agents, and i wouldn’t have begun that process otherwise.

take a week to assess your energy cycles, particularly in regard to the verbal part of your mind. what hours of the day do you feel most wordy? every hour, jot down a note about your energy. then after a week, take a look at the kind of patterns that emerge. if you have the most energy in the morning, then start scheduling a writing hour a few mornings per week.

set a very low daily word count goal. i had a friend whose goal was to write six words a day. she could always write more! but every single day, she had to write six words. so try six, or ten, or a hundred. maybe just a sentence or a paragraph. that way, even if you’ve had the worst and most exhausting day of your life, before you go to bed you can still jot down the minimum of your however-many words.

make your writing space beautiful before you start writing. make a cup of tea and a snack and take a picture of the #writingaesthetic. i never put much stock the appearance of where i wrote or what i wrote with, but i went to a residency last year where the idea was, if you’re in a beautiful space, you’re inspired to make beautiful things. and they were absolutely right. having my own studio in a tricked out apartment overlooking the cutest town i’ve ever been in was really very inspiring.

sometimes writing isn’t actually writing. bear with me here. i think it’s more productive to engage your creative mind by doing writing-adjacent activities than it is to stare at a blank page unable to write at all. so if you can’t write, try making a playlist, aesthetic, or pinboard for your story. shop for an outfit your characters would wear. do anything that involves engaging with an alternate creative medium.

i don’t really ascribe to a “write every day” mentality even though that’s what i do for the most part. sometimes i’ll write every day for months but it won’t feel like i’ve written anything because none of it sunk its talons into me. what i write may be interesting or challenging and i may enjoy it, but it won’t feel like bled onto the page. it’s just keeping up the habit. which is all to say, it’s more important to write a little bit that you care deeply about and feel proud of than a ton that means nothing to you. (admittedly the ideal is to write a ton that means a lot to you, which is a situation i find to be very rare, and when it happens it’s great for a month or two and then it starts to feel like i’ve eaten an entire cake in one sitting -- good for a long time, until it’s suddenly too much). everyone approaches writing differently, and everyone’s relationship with writing changes over time. keep experimenting, and take notes (mentally or otherwise) about what works and doesn’t.

i hope this helps! best of luck to you!

#writing advice #Anonymous

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headoverhiddles · 5 years ago

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You and Me and The Devil Makes 3 - Marilyn Manson x Brian Warner x Reader [Smut] - Part II

Synopsis: Both you and Brian can’t get the substitute teacher off your mind. Thankfully, Brian needs some extra help before an upcoming exam, and your regular teacher still hasn’t come back.

Notes: Long ass title. Anyway, someone asked for a sequel, so here’s more filthy Mancest ft you! IT’S FILTHY! We could all use the porn.

Part One

You bring your lips to your boyfriend’s, lazily making out after an hour of stressing the springs in his mattress.

A KISS record plays in the corner of his room. The afternoon sun seeps in over the countless Judas Priest and Nine Inch Nails posters all over the walls through the blinds that you’ve kept unturned. Both of you like the thrill of knowing Brian’s Christian neighbors might see you and your “filthy sex acts” again. Barb, Brian’s mother, hadn’t been too pleased after receiving that phone call, but Brian’s dad Hugh found it quite funny.

His parents liked you, called you a sweet girl. They don’t know much about Brian, and they don’t make much of an effort to—they know he’s into some dark music and he has a band, but they don’t know he’s interested in guys too, and they don’t know how far he wants to take his musical persona.

You’re also anything but sweet, but Barb and Hugh are well meaning, and you love them to death, always appreciative of the cake Barb feeds you when you visit the house. You think the two of them have some kind of idea that since Brian is almost finished high school, he’d take you somewhere and settle down with you. Neither of you want to settle down, but as far as either of you have shared, you have no plans of breaking up after grad.

You move your kisses down to Brian’s neck, and he keens under the attention, before reaching up to pull you back to his lips.

“I want you again,” you whisper, and Brian stares up at you.

“We just went four times, you brat.”

“But I’m horny.”

“And I’m soft, roll offa me. Gonna have to… watch some porn or something to get hard again…”

“This is better than porn,” you grin, unhooking your bra, and he pauses in his act of drinking down his bedside water glass, smiling too.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he laughs, and smoothes his hands up your rib cage to cup your breasts and fondle them. You lean down to drag them against his bare chest, and his hands move down to once again get himself ready to fuck again.

“So. We gonna talk about what happened on Friday?”

Brian’s breath hitches as he jacks himself to hardness again. “Do you want to?”

“I certainly think it raises some new… things, that we’re both obviously into.” Brian flushes a little, and you grin, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Hey. You know you can be comfy with me.”

Brian nods, thrusting up into you finally with a hiss. “It was hot… the stuff he did.”

“I know,” you breathe, shuddering as you slide back down over him, “I just wanted the two of you to double team me forever.”

“So is this a thing, then?” Brian whispers, “Like, a third person?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, “We could explore a polyamorous relationship. But for now, I’m okay with secret threesomes involving hot teachers.”

“You think he’s still there?”

“I think before he left on Friday, he mentioned he’d be around for another week. Mrs. Nordman wasn’t just hungover, she had the flu or something. Why?”

“I mean… we’ve got that English exam coming up soon.”

You smile. “We could use the extra help, hm?” He groans at that, pushing up into you harder, and you tilt your head back, riding him into his bed.

---

At school on Monday, you meet Brian at the front doors. He’s standing with Daisy, waiting for his friend to finish smoking, and doodling something on his hand. You see it’s a bunch of needles and lollipops.

“You know, you should’ve been an artist,” you smile, taking his hand.

“I am an artist. Different kind.”

Pogo approaches, swinging himself up onto the railing. “Morning, you sad fucks. How’re the losers today?”

“Depressed,” Daisy answers.

“Good to hear. I myself am in a fucking marvelous mood, seeing as I banged not one, not two-- but THREE chicks this weekend at a college tit party. THE MAD CLOWN HITS HOME AGAIN!” He lets loose his usual flurry of crazy laughter, the sound that could tell anybody the bald student was coming from a mile away.

“How’d you manage that?” Brian mutters, amused.

“Sorry, Mr. Big Dick, some girls have refined taste, unlike (y/n) or Mr. Manson in there, don’t argue, I know you fucked him.” He pauses his manic rocking, leaning forward. “I also told them I was in a wildly successful rock band.”

“There’s the kicker,” you nod.

“I did not fuck Mr. Manson,” Brian protests. Everyone turns to look at him, and he smirks your way. “He fucked me.” Laughter erupts.

“No smoking on school property, you goth weirdos,” some kiss-ass cheerleader snaps as she walks past, and Pogo catapults Brian’s pen at her head.

“We’re gonna be late, hurry up.” Brian nudges Daisy.

“This is my last one, and I’m too broke to afford another pack until I get my next paycheck,” Daisy complains, savouring another drag.

“Here, lemme have a puff,” Pogo says, motioning for it. Daisy passes it over, and Pogo flicks it into the grass, pulling everyone inside. “Problem solved!”

You giggle as Daisy shakes his head, and all of you turn when you hear screaming. There’s Jeordie, running toward the school like an idiot.

“I’m gonna make it! I’m gonna make it!” he’s shouting, then the bell goes. He tosses his backpack to the ground, kicking it. “SHIT!”

---

It’s an uneventful Monday, until the last class. When you get in and sit down, Mr. Manson is at the front of the class already, writing the day’s class plan out. Today, he’s dressed in a black button up, with a black vest over top of black pants. His hair is brushed back in a fairly respectable style, and… he turns around. His lips today are a soft coral pink, with black and blue eyeshadow. Brian stares at him, in awe once again at the man’s swaggering confidence and style. Why is it that with bisexuality, it’s always a question of if he wanted to be the other guy, or be in the other guy? Or have the guy in him, as the case may be.

“Alright. Before we start, does anyone have any questions about today’s makeup?” Manson’s tone is playful, and a light titter of laughter comes from the students. He grins. “Alright. You sure?” More laughter. “Okay. Today, we’ll be covering a new chapter of literary theory, and applying it to the first act of Hamlet.”

His dark eyes sweep the classroom as he marks off attendance, and when they come to rest on you, he looks up. “Is there a reason why you and Miss (y/l/n) were late today, Mr. Warner?” Your entire friend group looks at the two of you. Your boyfriend just shrugs.

“Yeah, there was a reason.” You raise an eyebrow right back with a smirk, and Brian leaves it at that. You’re surprised when Manson accepts this without a cheeky little order to see him after class, but that’s fine. Brian has an excuse to see him anyway.

While Mr. Manson is talking, Brian writes out some lyrics for a new song he and the Spooky Kids have been working on. He nudges you, and taps the paper, which has a verse written out.

VCRs and Vaseline

TV fucked by plastic queens

Cash in hand and dick on screen

(who said god was ever clean)

He’s drawn a big question mark under it, so you give a little check mark on the paper, with the note:

Hot.

“I know this shit is boring, but pay attention,” Manson says from the front of the classroom, glaring daggers at you two.

“Imagine that lipstick all over my naked body,” you whisper in his ear. Brian glares at you.

“Stop trying to get me hard in class.”

“Why?” you tease.

“Cause it’s fucking working.”

“Do you one of you guys have an eraser?” Jeordie whispers (far too loudly) from behind you. You pass him back yours, and look at him sternly.

“Don’t pick it apart like you did all my other ones.”

“What did I just say?” Manson snaps from the front of the class.

“We were just—!” you try to protest.

“No talking. Last warning.”

You and Brian exchange looks. He’s in a mood today, and you can’t wait to see how the two of you can test him even more after class.

When the class is finished, you all wait until the rest of the students are gone. Pogo looks back at you two from the door, making obscene blow job gestures. Mr. Manson doesn’t look up from the desk.

“Did you need something, Mr. Bier?”

“Not me!” Pogo snickers, dashing off to go catch up with Daisy and Jeordie.

“Mr. Manson?” Brian asks, “I need a little bit of help with studying for the upcoming exam. I dedicate a lot of time to my band, and… don’t study as much as I should.”

“Mm. And (y/n)? You just gonna watch your boyfriend... ask for help?” Manson asks.

“I might learn a few things too, by sticking around,” you say, and lean forward against your desk. Manson’s eyes roam down to your cleavage, and he closes his book, getting up. He walks over to the door, locks it, and comes back over.

“The English exam. Yeah. As you know, I don’t know much about your curriculum, or really, about the exam itself.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t try to help us out,” you say. “Please sir? We really need help.” Mr. Manson looks at you, blue and black shadow making his hooded eyes seem supernatural.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Brian walks over to his desk, chin jutted out in confidence that will be lost as soon as Manson looks him in the eye. Sure enough, when the substitute gives your boyfriend one of his looks up and down, sweeping his entire body as if he’s a meal about to be devoured, Brian shudders. But he’s not about to lose his cool.

“See… I don’t get the whole psychoanalytic theory,” Brian says, putting the book down in front of Mr. Manson, “I don’t see how it applies to Hamlet.”

“Of course you pick the Freudian thing.” He sighs. “Well first, you have to understand psychoanalysis.” Manson looks over to you pointedly. “I’m sure you know all about Freud and his phallic symbols. You two had a lot of fun drawing them on your notes last Friday.”

Brian laughs a little at that. Wrong move. Manson gets up, and in one quick stride, he has your boyfriend pushed down and bent over the desk, ass up.

“What the fuck?” Brian mutters, but you can hear the whine at the end of his protest. Your legs rub together as your finger grazes your lower lip… you want to see how this turns out.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do,” Manson says slowly, “I’m gonna help you two, since you fuck around in class all the time and never pay attention.” He leans in close to Brian, and your boyfriend glares up at him for holding him in such a vulnerable position. Manson just smirks, and gets out a ruler from the desk. “Our angel over there is gonna answer some questions of mine, baby. Got it?”

“What do you—?” A sharp slap echoes, as Manson hits the desk with the ruler hard.

“You say yes sir, and no sir, or this desk will be that pretty little ass. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Brian breathes, laying his face down on the desk. You raise an eyebrow, spreading your legs just a bit.

“You really have enough confidence in me that I know these answers?” you grin.

“Nah. I’m counting on you not knowing a single one, baby girl,” Manson smiles, and traces the ruler up Brian’s back. “But try your best. He’s counting on you.” Manson gets the ruler ready again. "Tell me what the basis of psychoanalytic theory is."

"It's a theory that draws from psychoanalyzing the behavior of the characters in the... in the story," you say, eyes trained on Brian.

"Good start," Manson nods, rubbing his hand up Brian's back, "Saved you this time, sweetheart." Brian makes a noise, akin to a moan, and Manson looks at you again, expectantly, from the depths of that eyeshadow. "What are some examples?"

"There's... a response to modern day literature from a new and improved perspective."

"Wrong," Manson says, "That's postmodernism."

“Aw. Guess that must’ve slipped my mind.” You shift in your seat, reaching down to touch yourself. Manson sees this out of the corner of his eye, and lifts his chin.

"Mr. Warner?"

Brian obediently pulls down his leggings just enough. Not satisfied with this, Manson pulls them down to his knobby knees, and hits him hard with the ruler. Brian's hips rut against the desk, and your pussy clenches as you rub faster circles.

"Again, sir," Brian whimpers.

"You want another one?" Manson asks.

"Yes, sir."

"(y/n)... your boy here's a bit of a slut."

"I'd have to agree," you grin, head rolling back as a moan is drawn from your throat.

"I guess I should know that by now. Have you ever tried fucking him?"

Brian's breath hitches, and you think about this. "He's never asked."

"Imagine how that'd feel, hm?" the teacher whispers in Brian's ear, "Her fingers inside of you... filling you up. You like that?"

"Fuck, fuck," Brian groans, hips pushing forward against the desk. He's painfully hard.

"Gonna cum in your pants?” Manson rasps.

“No...” Brian clenches his jaw. “Ugh...”

“What if she fucked you with three fingers? Spreading this perfect ass wide open?" he continues to tease, snarling, "What if I did? You like the pain, don't you? It turns you on." Manson spanks him again, harder, and you can see the red imprint he’s left.

"Yeah..." Brian moans, his usual grumble raising in pitch. "I want you both to fuck me."

"First, you get to watch." Mr. Manson looks over to you, and beckons. You make a show of teasing back, mouthing 'me?' Before Manson has a chance to threaten, you stand, walking over to the teacher. He stands a full few feet taller than you, the height difference still as hot as it was in the washroom the other day. He takes you by the shoulders, and brings his lips to yours. The kiss is sloppy and heated. You moan, sliding your hand down to cup his cock through his black slacks. You can feel the hefty erection respond to your touch, but you want to feel it inside you, fucking you. Brian watches, and reaches down to give himself some relief.

"Ah ah," you break away from the kiss to say, "Someone's being naughty." Brian shoots you a glare for ratting him out, and you blow your boyfriend a kiss as Manson turns to look at him.

"Do I have to tie you up, baby boy? Or can you stop those hands from wandering, hmm?" Hearing that in Manson's deep growl is such a turn on. You pull him back to you.

"Let him stay like that. If you spank him again, he's gonna cum all over the desk."

"Disgusting," Manson chastises, licking his lips, "Filthy filthy, Mr. Warner."

"At least I didn't take out my cock in class and start stroking it for you to see," Brian mouths off.

"I'm sure you would've loved to do that," you smirk, going back to stroking Mr. Manson through his pants.

"Mm. Yeah. Bet you would’ve loved to take it out, show everyone how hard you were. How ready you were for your girlfriend and your fucking teacher to take turns on you.”

"I..." Brian groans.

"Use your words, slut."

"Yeah," he breathes, "I might... I don't know, get embarrassed, but--"

"Sluts don't get embarrassed," Manson says sharply. "Besides, as a big rock and roll singer, I'd imagine that you do much worse onstage. Or am I wrong?”

“Tell him all the shit you've done onstage," you moan.

Brian shifts his hips, recalling everything he'd done during a show. Mr. Manson was right-- when he was onstage, it was as if he became a different person. A persona. Someone darker, maniacal even. Someone who's willing to do anything.

"I've fucked (y/n) onstage," he growls. "Fucked her til her tight little cunt couldn't take it anymore."

Mr. Manson takes his cock out of his pants, starts stroking it himself as you lay back on a desk in front of him. You watch his cockhead disappear in his fist with every stroke, licking your lips.

"What else?"

"I stripped her down naked in front of everyone... and ate her pussy."

"Oh god," you whine, picturing that night. You had both been so high you had forgotten there was even an audience.

"That must have felt good." Manson looks to you.

"It did. It did, and I love it," you murmur, glancing down to your exposed breasts, "Just like him. I wanna be filled by you, sir. Just like Brian fills me up."

Brian rolls his hips against the desk as Mr. Manson slots himself between your legs, dragging his cock between the folds of your pussy. "So fuckin' wet. It'll be so easy to get into you, baby girl."

"Please, Mr. Manson," you moan, “I need you.”

"Fuck her," Brian gasps out, "She's such a fucking cockslut, she needs it." You nod. Manson reaches his hand up to cup one of your breasts as he slides in, filling you to the hilt.

"Oh god," you manage out, hands grabbing at the edges of the small desk. Manson’s cock isn’t as long as Brian’s, but it’s thicker, so thick you can feel the pain of the stretch.

"Fuck," Brian whines, watching Manson pull out almost fully then pound back into you. He’s frustrated—he can’t touch himself, and his cock is heavy and weeping against the desk. He could cum from any little touch at this point.

"If you even think about touching your cock, the punishment will be unimaginable," Manson growls to your brat of a boyfriend. Brian groans in complaint, resting his head against the desk as he continues to rock his hips and watch. "Tell me more about how you fuck (y/n)," Manson says, thrusting in hard. The desk skids back a couple of inches, and you gasp. "Ah, nope. The principal could still walk by, baby girl. Don't want him to hear the three of us acting out our own little porno, do you?"

"No, sir."

"No. That's right. Mr. Warner? You were saying?"

"I fuck her all the time," Brian says, words tumbling out of his mouth as he loses his grip. "We fuck between classes, before class, after class. She always wants my dick.”

"Yeah?" Mr. Manson asks, humming low in his chest. "Seems like you just can't get satisfied baby, hm?"

"I get satisfied," you reply, grinding your hips down obscenely, "I just love his cock so much that I want it all the time. I love feeling full."

"Why don't we make good and sure you're nice and full then?" Manson beckons Brian over, not stopping his thrusts for a second. Brian’s surprised for a moment that he gets to move or do anything, but quickly complies. Manson’s belt jangles as he grunts, balls slapping your ass. "Give our baby girl a mouthful."

Your eyes light up, and Brian's lips quirk up. He loves watching you get used, and being a part of it is almost too much for him. He stands, and gets over top of your face, willing himself not to blow the minute he pushes between your pretty pink lips.

"Lemme see that nice cock, baby boy," Manson rasps. His breath hitches when Brian strokes his fist all the way up the length, over the head, and back down. "Mmm, perfect. Give her some, she looks thirsty."

"Take it, baby," Brian whispers, biting his lip as he smacks his cock against your lips, "C'mon, you know you want it."

"You know her safe word?" Manson mutters. Brian nods. You open wide for your boyfriend, and he slides his cock into your mouth, stopping before it hits the back of your throat. He raises his eyebrows down to you, and you nod again, feverishly. It's almost too much, the older man fucking you into the desk so hard and your boyfriend using your mouth to get off. But you love the thrill, and you're getting closer to your climax every second.

"You're doing so good," Mr. Manson says to you, stroking down your pelvic bone to caress your stomach, your clit, down to your inner thighs. Your hips buck. "Shhh. Taking us so good, sweetheart."

"Isn't it "so well?' You are an English teacher, right?" Brian asks, grinning. Mr. Manson shoots him a look daring to go any further with that. Brian knows his place, casting his eyes downward.

"You like to piss people off, don’t you?" Manson asks.

"Yeah. It's part of my, uh... my thing."

"Your thing right now is to quit being a smart ass, fuck your girlfriend's mouth, and do what your told."

Brian sucks his cheekbones in, biting his bottom lip hard as he feels his cock throb. "Yes, sir!" He gives a sarcastic mock salute with a big dumb grin, and that does it.

"Back over the desk."

"What?!" Brian's eyebrows furrow angrily.

"You heard me. Get back. Over. The desk. Now."

Brian whines, and removes himself from your mouth. As he's walking back over though, the fearless streak continues. He fondles Mr. Manson's bare ass as he walks by, clucking his tongue. "Damn, daddy. Great ass, for an old man."

You smirk, knowing it'll get a rise out of the teacher. But he just goes back to fucking you-- albeit much faster.

"Oh... oh yeah. Oh god," you hiss, trying still to keep it as quiet as possible. Mr. Manson's short black hair falls from his coiffed mohawk and into his eyes as he starts to get close. "I'm gonna fucking cum," you moan, tits bouncing in your bra. Manson pushes in one more time, and you cum hard on his cock, mouth falling open.

He pulls out of you when you're finished, and Brian comes over, kneeling down and taking Mr. Manson's cock into his mouth. He suckles for a few seconds, then takes him down all the way as the older man shudders, buries his fingers into your boyfriend's hair, and cums down his throat. Brian swallows, blinking up at the teacher, and Mr. Manson looks down at him, at the teenager’s painfully swollen cock resting on his thigh.

"You've been a good boy," he mumbles, “Helped daddy cum. I think you deserve something.” Brian's eyes flutter shut, and Manson strokes his cheek. With a gasp from the touch alone, Brian suddenly cums untouched all over his leg and the floor. You watch him convulse through every wave of his orgasm, then rest back on his hands when he finishes.

Manson sits on the edge of his desk, and you stand, helping Brian clean up. He runs a hand through his long black hair, and fiddles his tongue against his lip ring.

"You know... you should come check out the Spooky Kids in concert sometime."

Manson runs a hand through his hair, making sure he looks his best-- comfortably disheveled. "Your band?"

"Yeah. You were in a band yourself, weren't you?" Brian smirks.

“Yeah.”

"As long as you bring some good, uh... you know, nose candy-- gotta make the sacrificial offerings to the band-- then feel free to show up."

“He doesn’t do nose candy, bring some ring pops and lollipops and that’ll be more than sufficient,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“What makes you think I've got drugs on me anyway?" Manson deadpans. "I'm a fuckin' high school English teacher." Brian stares at the debauched man with lipstick smeared down his chin and hair standing up from all angles. Manson bursts into what can only be described as giggles. "Yeah. Well, I’m not about to give my drugs away to a group of 18 year old musicians. Then you’d turn out just like me.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Brian teases, tugging slightly at the silver skull brooch on Manson’s lapel. Manson strokes his knuckles.

“If I'm still in town, I'll see if I can make it to a show. You seem like you’d be good. Like you’ve got rock star in your blood.” It’s as if Brian’s whole body blushes—it’s freaking cute you think, as you fix your hair. “--But only if I get to come backstage with the rest of the groupies."

"Oh," you smile, approaching to fix Mr. Manson’s black tie, "We'll be waiting for you."

“Who else is in this band?” Manson asks out of curiosity. “Anyone else from this class?”

“Stephen, Scott, Jeordie. Another kid named Freddy, doesn’t go here.”

“Bier is crazy enough to be in a band, I’d believe that. Putesky, that’s interesting. He doesn’t seem the type. He seems like he’d be the type to yell at people like you to turn the music down.”

Brian nods, “Yeah, we tell him that all the time. He looks like someone’s grandpa. He shreds on the guitar, though, you’d be surprised. So does Jeordie.”

Manson huffs, getting his bag together, “Jeordie? That doesn’t surprise me as much.” The substitute teacher lets you two out of the classroom, and checks the time. 4 PM now. “Well. I hope you feel ready for the exam. I didn’t do shit to help you, but...”

“We got what we needed to,” you say, fixing your skirt with a small smile.

“Good. Cause I think you’ve got a pretty good idea of what’ll happen if you get a fuckin’ F.”

#marilyn manson #marilyn manson x reader #reader x marilyn manson #brian warner #brian hugh warner #brian warner x reader #reader x brian warner #spooky kids #spooky kids era #marilyn manson and the spooky kids #heaven upside down #heaven upside down era #mancest #by request #teacher student #teacher au

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tirednotflirting · 5 years ago

Text

sleepyhead - c.h.

right now i’m a few glasses of wine in and i’ve finally got the guts to post fic for the first time ever so here is a lil blurb thing i wrote in between studying for different finals last week when thinking of soft morning cal was distracting me from primate anatomy.

word count: ~1.9k

she woke up to the smell of cigarette smoke tickling at her nose. after a second breath, she caught a whiff of fresh coffee and rain on the brick walls of her building. knowing he must be out on the covered balcony, she listened closely for the sound of rain, wondering if it had stopped yet, and also picked up his quiet humming of a song she couldn’t quite figure out. a slight breeze blew into the room, causing her to pull the thick comforter up from where it rested at her waist and let her eyes finally flutter open as thoughts of sleeping later drifted off.

the room was dark for 9am, she observed after rolling over to grab her phone and seeing the time. her weather app told her that the storm was to continue well into the evening so if his plans for the day had included anything outside, they would likely need to be put on hold. she lifted her body from the mattress and finally caught sight of him out on the patio, the half-opened door giving her a view of him sipping from his favorite mug with the same hand that held his cigarette as he wrote something in a journal resting against the small glass table she had bought during the summer.

“your balcony has a nice view,” he had said one afternoon in june, soon after they had become friends who actively sought out each other’s company rather than waiting for the next time the world brought them together through mutual friends. “you should get a table out here when you’re more settled, would be a great morning coffee with a book spot.” she bought the table after he mentioned it a second time.

she thought of their initial meeting one another earlier in the year as she glanced up to check on him every couple of minutes as she went through her school inbox on her phone.

it was a grad party back in may for lianna, a friend a couple years her senior. it was out on some trendy rooftop place downtown her parents had rented out. lianna was the kind of girl who knew every kind of person, including the girlfriend of a drummer called ashton irwin. the couple had come along and brought with them ashton’s bandmate, calum. they blended in well with the ucla media studies crowd in their dress and overall low key attitude to the lights and sparkles and fruity drinks that came with downtown la in late spring.

she was a photography major and had met lianna when she got approval to take a senior level course that spring, despite only being a sophomore. she got on well with everyone at the party, all of them being her (now former) classmates and her face was growing achy with how much she was smiling as everyone told her their postgrad plans. she had been taking a social break and was standing at the bar, trying to flag down the bartender, her short stature failing her at that moment. she felt a presence to her left as she huffed in frustration, along with a deep “need some help?”. she turned and saw a man that she remembered recognizing when she had seen him walk in with a gorgeous couple earlier in the night. he was in a band, plays bass, lianna had told her over the tops of their wine glasses. he’s australian, and has a very cute dog, had also been added by the tall red-haired girl.

“yeah, thanks. guess he can’t hear me,” she replied, a tired smile returning to her face. a similar one spread across the curly-haired boy’s lips. “what are you drinking?” he asked, looking down to her as his hand lifted to grab the attention of the bartender, who immediately noticed the man. she took a moment before answering to admire the tattoos that she could see dancing across his forearm as his rolled sleeve pushed up to his elbow.

“the rosé.”

he lifted his chin in a short nod and recited the order as well as his own to the bartender. she pulled herself up into one of the stools at the bar to give her heeled feet a rest and to reduce at least a little bit of the difference in height between herself and the man.

“i’m calum,” he introduced himself, reaching a tattooed hand out into the somewhat limited space between the two of them.

“bennie,” she smiled lazily, her smaller hand accepting his as a glass of pink wine is placed beside her.

she set her phone back to charge and finally pushes back the covers. she reaches to the floor at the end of her bed to pick up a cardigan to throw on over the t-shirt she stole from him to wear when he got in the night before. he would always tease her for taking one of his ratty band t-shirts every time he ended up at her place after the airport rather than his own but never enough for her to toss it back in his duffle.

california in winter could just barely be called that, but the storm was bringing through something they would all call a cold front. he looks up from his writing as he hears her bare feet padding closer to the open door and gently shuts the leather journal, his pen marking his place.

he takes another drag of the cigarette, turning towards the street to blow away the smoke. “lovely weather we’re having today, huh?”

she scoffs at his sarcasm as she pulls out the seat across from him. “la is so happy to have you home that the whole city is crying tears of joy.”

“hush, ben.” he rolls his eyes but smirks nonetheless at her words.

he takes a moment to admire the girl that’s come to be one his best friends as she reaches forward to pour coffee from the French press he had made into a second mug. sleep had pulled most of her hair from the braid she had done up when they were eating pasta in the kitchen the night before. her eyes were dark around the edges due to the college-student style of exhaustion she always seemed to be and the eyeliner she had claimed she didn’t really need to wash away before bed. seeing her in his clothes made him feel warm in a way he didn’t really understand but always pushed away the thought of.

“ah, you’re right.” she says after a sighing as she takes her first sip from her mug. “she’s actually crying because you’re leaving again in a few days.”

the smile on his face drops as he reaches a foot out to tap against her leg. “hey now, yes i’ll be leaving but then you’re down for that party in the city for new years, right?”

she’s already down to the bottom of her mug (the French press was doing a shit job at retaining any heat and she was going to need to just go back into the kitchen and make more). “if you’ll still have me, yeah. which i hope you will because i’ve definitely already bought the flight.”

“bennie, you were supposed to let me get that.” he says to her with furrowed brows, a small pout forming.

she stands and holds a hand out for his mug so she can go in and make a second cup for the both of them. “okay, well you already got me a room and since your label are the ones hosting the party, you’re basically paying for all my drinks too. so i-“

“it was gonna be your Christmas present, love.” he sighs, handing his mug over.

“the room can be the prese-“

“bennie,” he cuts her off and places a hand at her hip to stop her as she tries to scoot around him to get back inside for coffee and to get away from the conversation. she looks down at where his chipped black polished fingers are placed. “just wanna be able to do something nice for you. i know you worked your ass off this semester and that you’re avoiding the fam for the holiday so i just wanted to treat you.”

she studies the mugs in her hands to avoid his gaze. calum turns his chair to face her so he can wrap both arms around her waist. she huffs and sets the mugs down on the table, letting her hands fall to his shoulders as she looks down to his patient brown eyes.

she takes a deep breath as she moves one hand to the back of his neck, her fingers twirling around the curls there. “and i appreciate it. and i’ve been feeling all warm and fuzzy ever since you asked me to join for this. i think i just convinced myself that letting you do too much for me would make it seem like i was taking advantage. don’t ever want you to feel that way about me.”

his bottom lip juts out further after hearing her think that he could ever even for a moment have some kind of ill opinion of her. “wouldn’t dream of thinking that, darling. i invited you to a party clear across the country, just wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”

she feels something flutter inside her when he calls her by pet names and talks about taking care of her but she pushes the thought away. “we should talk more when planning, huh?”

he laughs and shakes his head at her as he opens his legs so she can stand between them as he pulls her closer, his arms moving to wrap more fully around her waist. he lets his head fall against her stomach. “i’m still exhausted.”

she runs a hand through his hair. “it’s called jet lag, ace. go get back in bed. let’s finish the season of peaky blinders we fell asleep in the middle of last night and then we can go pick up duke.”

he hummed his agreement with the plan for the rest of the morning before turning his head to place a kiss to the inside of bennie’s wrist. as she wanders past him, mugs and french press gathered into her arms, he puts out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray he brought over after she yelled at him for using one of her favorite mugs for the purpose. she’s already back in the kitchen, filling the kettle before setting it back on the stove and digging through her cabinets for the dark roast she’s decided she wants to make for her second cup of the day.

she comes back to her room several minutes later with two steamy mugs to find calum asleep again, her pillow tucked against his chest. she could almost coo at him cuddled under the blanket, chapped lips pouted out as he softly snores. she chuckles quietly to herself as she sets the mugs on her desk before gently climbing back into bed and pulling the pillow away from his arms. it’s only now that she notices the door is still open, the rain still falling at a steady pace and the breeze sneaking its way across the room. as she lays her head against the pillow that now smells of whatever new cologne he picked up on the road, an arm reaches over her body, pulling her against his warm chest.

“thanks, love,” are the last words she hears before letting her tired eyes drift shut.

~~~~~

thnx for reading if you did and come say hello (i like new pals) and lemme know if i should ever give this kinda thing a shot again. happy saturday !

#calum hood #calum hood blurb #calum hood blurbs #5sos blurb #5sos blurbs #calum fic #5sos fic #calum hood fic #calum hood fanfic #my writing #i don't know how to use tags so this is wine induced blind guessing #this seems like enough #maybe too many #alright byyyyyye

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bilbos · 5 years ago

Text

Fine Print || Anthony Beauvillier

Word Count: 3.3k

requested: yes || no

author’s note: this was written as part of @makarcales secret gift exchange! I wrote this for @titobeauvilliers <3

~ ~ ~

It’s almost 11pm when you make it to the store to buy ingredients for some soup. Normally, you’re not up this late, but your roommate Sadie has only gotten progressively sicker as the night has gone on. Winter in New York is no joke and colds are like a disease in the city. Considering that it’s winter break at NYU, and therefore no classes, you decide that it’s fine that you probably won’t get any sleep tonight to help her out.

As you’re walking down one of the aisles to get some chicken broth, you see a guy about your age squinting at a can of tomato sauce. He places it back and then grabs another one and squints at that one as well.

“Do you…need help?” you ask hesitantly as you get closer to him.

“Um, maybe,” he answers, blushing. “I didn’t think to put in contacts before I left my apartment. And I didn’t have my glasses in my backpack like I thought I did.”

You laugh. “So, what are you looking for?”

“Just some tomato sauce without chunks. I’m in the mood for some pasta and no place is delivering any this late. At least, any that are worth eating.”

“Your sight must be bad because both of the ones you’re holding are both chunky and the pictures show that.”

He blushes even more and puts both cans back. You step around him and grab a couple cans of the non-chunky tomato sauce and hand them over to him. He smiles softly as he grabs them.

“Thank you so much,” he says.

“No problem. You need help finding noodles or anything else?”

“I have everything else at home, so this should be good. I really appreciate this.”

He walks off and you just shake your head. Now it’s time to grab the rest of the ingredients for the soup you’re making.

~ ~ ~

When you get back to your apartment, you tell Sadie about what had happened. She just laughs before going on another coughing spree. It sucks seeing her like this, but your mom’s chicken noodle soup always helps a little bit.

“Seriously, you didn’t have to do this,” Sadie whispers hoarsely.

“You’re my best friend, of course I’m going to do this,” you reply. “It’s honestly the least that I could do, you know? Besides, it’s not like I could have slept anyways.”

“And this is why I love you,” she replies. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do. We deserve each other after everything we’ve been through.”

She just smiles sadly, looking off into the distance. The two of you hardly talk about your life before coming to NYU, and for good reason. Living with your best friend is honestly the best decision you could have made and you can’t come to regret moving so far from home.

Making the rest of the soup passes in silence. You’re not sure what Sadie is thinking about, but it’s hard not to think about life before this. It wasn’t easy being raised the way the two of you were, but even though it sucked, your glad it landed the two of you in such a great place now.

Once you finish making the soup, it’s just past 1am. You dish the two of you up a large bowl of soup and put the rest in a large Tupperware. Sadie takes her bowl to the couch, turning on the TV and trying to find something on Netflix.

“Might as well make it an all-nighter,” she says. “I don’t see myself sleeping any time soon and it’s not like we have class tomorrow anyways.”

“That’s true,” you say. “I’m just going to apologize if I fall asleep now, though.”

“I’ll appreciate your company nonetheless, though.”

She finds a cheesy romantic comedy to turn on, and the two of you sit in silence, watching it all unfold. Halfway through the movie, Sadie grabs your bowl to set it down in the sink. When she sits back down, she turns towards you.

“What if your life turns into a rom-com with the guy you met at the store today?” she asks, seriously.

“That would be absolutely ridiculous, Sadie,” you answer. “It was a one-time thing and New York is such a big city. The chances of me running into him again are very slim.”

“But that would make it extra cute.”

“And I seriously doubt that it’ll happen.”

“Just let me have some fun with it, okay? I mean, he was super cute and he was blushy around you.”

“Yeah, because he was embarrassed, not because of anything else.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” she replies. “And yeah, I know you probably won’t see him again, but it wouldn’t hurt to just imagine it for a bit.”

“I could go in so many different directions with that,” you joke.

Sadie just rolls her eyes as she turns back to the movie.

~ ~ ~

It’s a week later and near the end of your winter break when you’re back at the store again. Now it’s well past midnight and you’re trying to find some junk food. You and Sadie were pulling another all-nighter to binge watch some movies that the two of you had been wanting to watch when you ran out of snacks. Sadie insisted that you had to be the one to go pick it up in case you ran into the tomato guy again.

As your walking down one of the isles in pursuit of some ice cream, you see him again, staring at a pack of cookies. He sets one pack down only to pick up another to stare at the ingredient list. Unsure if he could actually read the ingredients or not, you decide to go over and ask.

“Did you remember to wear your contacts this time?” you ask.

His head snaps over to you and squints. “I can’t believe you have to see me like this again.”

“Seems to be fate. And I’ll take that as a no.”

He sighs. “I just got back from a trip and I wanted some cookies, but I don’t want anything with too much sugar in it.”

“You do realize that you’re buying brand-name cookies, right? I don’t think there’s a low-sugar option available.”

“Please let me just live in denial.”

You laugh. “I guess so. Do you want help or are you just going to take a shot in the dark?”

“I guess I could use some help. I’m just debating between these three.”

He holds out packages of Oreos, Chips Ahoy, and the store brand. You figure the Oreos are a safe bet and hold them over to him.

“Thank you so much,” he says. “I’m Anthony, by the way. If we keep meeting like this, I figure you should at least know my name.”

“I’m y/n,” you reply. “Do you go to school here or something?”

“I actually work here.”

“Oh, that’s cool. It’s killer trying to find a job here, so good on you for finding one. I’m not sure if I’ll find something that can pay the bills by the time I graduate.”

“Yeah, I got super lucky. But, um, I should probably go. It’s getting pretty late.”

“Oh, yeah, I should start getting the rest of what I came here for. Sadie is waiting for me.”

He waves goodbye as he walks off.

~ ~ ~

Sadie smiles smugly when you tell her about what had happened at the store.

“It’s honestly fate,” she says. “I mean, running into him again? And you got his name!”

“I’ll wait until I see him again. Third times a charm, right?”

“I still can’t believe you saw him again though! I was hoping you would, but I didn’t actually believe it.”

“Yeah, I guess it is weird. But I’m not going to chalk it up to anything besides we both like to go to the store late at night,” you reply. “Besides, I’m not sure how much I’d even have the chance to see him once school starts up again. I’d like to keep a normal sleep schedule.”

“But that’s no fun!”

“It’s no fun, but it’ll help reduce my suffering. And I’m graduating soon, too, I’d like to not be dead before then.”

“Ugh, I thought I told you to not talk about graduating. I don’t want to face the real world yet.”

“That’s what grad school is for.”

“Okay, true, but I also don’t want to be in debt even more.”

You snort. “Well, you should make up your mind. It’s a little late now to apply, but I don’t see why you can’t go next year.”

“Only if you get into the same program. I refuse to struggle through school without my best friend there.”

“That’s the dream, huh?”

“My other dream happens to be us working together and staying here in NYC.”

“That’s a good dream.”

~ ~ ~

A month later and you’re suffering through schoolwork. You knew that your senior year was going to be tough, but the amount of work never stops surprising you. Sadie is in the same boat and the two of you decide to make some progress at a local café the both of you love. The two of you are sitting close together and she keeps playfully hitting you every time you try to get her to focus.

“I’m just trying to get us to finish this faster so that I can go to bed at a reasonable time tonight. I feel like I’m a zombie.”

“If you’re a zombie, you’re the hottest one around,” Sadie says, a bit loudly.

At that exact moment, Anthony comes walking by your table and looks over, confused. When he sees you, he smiles brightly, excited to see you. You smile back and immediately realizing that he’s wearing glasses and this only makes him more attractive.

“Oh, hey, y/n,” he greets. “Is this Sadie?”

“Yep, I’m Sadie,” she replies. “Best thing that’s ever happened to her.”

“Oh my god, don’t listen to her. We’ve been attached at the hip for the last couple of years, but it’s more because she inserted herself into my life,” you explain.

“That’s nice,” he says, smile dimming a bit. “Are you doing school work?”

“Yeah, just trying to finish up, but Sadie is being distracting.”

She smiles widely. “So, are you Anthony? Y/n told me about you.”

“Oh god, I can’t believe you told people about that,” he groans.

You shrug. “I tell Sadie everything.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind if I ever see you at the store again,” he replies. “I should be going, though, I’m meeting up with a couple of friends soon and I just wanted some coffee before heading over. I’ll see you soon?”

“Oh, sure,” you say.

When Anthony gets in line, Sadie shoves you. “Oh my god, you didn’t tell me how hot he was. Now you have to get his number.”

“I don’t know. I know I said I would, but it feels kind of weird asking someone you barely know for their number.”

“Okay, but you get to know him better by asking for his number.”

“Just leave it, okay? I’d really rather not deal with this right now.”

Sadie sighs and goes back to working on her paper. She knows better than to push you too much, knowing that if you really wanted to, you would have had no issue asking for Anthony’s number. When he finally gets his coffee, he waves at you and Sadie.

~ ~ ~

“God, Mat, she has a girlfriend,” Anthony groans. “And they look so cute together.”

“Did they say that they were dating?” Mat asks.

“Well, no, but it sure did seem like it. And y/n said that they’ve been attached at the hip. Doesn’t that mean that they’re basically dating?”

“Or it could mean that they’re really good friends.”

“Okay, but you didn’t see how they were acting together. I really thought that I was going to have a chance with her.”

“Dude, I l know that this sucks, but you’ll be able to move on. Or just be her friend. Just because you can’t date her doesn’t mean the two of you can’t still be good friends.”

Anthony just sighs and leans back into the couch. He can’t deny that it’ll be hard for him to just be friends with you, but he also wants to just know you more. Mat just looks on sympathetically.

“Maybe when I see her again, I can give her and Sadie tickets to one of our games or something.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea. I’d like to meet them.”

~ ~ ~

The next time you see Anthony is at the store (again) in the vegetable aisle. He’s acting a little odd, but seems excited to see you again nonetheless.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you greet. “I have to say, it’s weird seeing you here at a normal time.”

“Ah, yeah, it is,” Anthony replies, a bit awkwardly. “Um, I was wondering if you and Sadie might want to come to a game of mine.”

“A game?”

“Yeah, a hockey game. It’s what I play,” Anthony explains. “We have an evening game next Saturday.”

“Oh yeah, that would be a lot of fun! How much are tickets?”

“I’d actually be reserving them for you. No need to pay.”

“That would be amazing. Do you think you could reserve three? Sadie is having her boy over that weekend and I’d love to have him come with.”

“Yeah, I could do that.”

“What stadium are you guys playing at?” you ask.

“We’re at Barclays,” Anthony answers, visibly confused.

You’re not sure why he’s acting confused, but you just assume that he told you at some point and you had forgotten.

“Just text me the details and I’ll see you there?” you say.

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good. See you then, I guess.”

~ ~ ~

“Mat, I think Sadie has a kid.”

“Tito, what the fuck? Where the hell did you get that idea?” Mat asks, concerned.

“Y/n said that Sadie’s boy would be visiting that weekend. I assume that means kid,” Anthony explains, visibly distressed.

“Dude, did you ever think that she would just be using some fancy slang for boyfriend?”

“But that would mean that the two of them weren’t dating and I really don’t think that’s the case. This is just too much.”

“You’re still going to invite them to the game though?”

Anthony groans. “Yeah, unfortunately. I just…don’t want to back out. And I feel like seeing them will help me from feeling things about y/n.”

“That is…so sad, dude.”

“I know, I don’t need you pointing that out.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Mat replies, teasingly. “But seriously, I think it’s all going to be fine.”

“God, I hope so.”

~ ~ ~

When you, Sadie, and James hop out of the Lyft at Barclays, you immediately notice how many people are there. The three of you exchange confused looks, not expecting this amount of people.

“Hey, y/n, I thought you said that they weren’t a big team,” James points out, staring at a large group of people wearing Islanders jerseys.

“I thought they weren’t a big team. He never talked about it, so I assumed it wasn’t a big deal. And the game is on a Saturday night, so that really didn’t help much,” you explain. “Plus, he never said who the team was, so I never figured to look into it.”

“So, uh, where are we picking up tickets again?” James asks. “Just the ticket station?”

“I think so?” you reply confused.

When the three of you get into line, you notice Sadie googling the Islanders and scrolling through the team roster. She finds Anthony’s picture and just hands over her phone.

“You’ve been talking to one of the team’s most popular players and you didn’t even know it!” Sadie exclaims.

“Nobody said sports were my strong suit,” you joke, while looking at his picture.

This whole thing felt surreal and you hand Sadie’s phone back in a daze. It feels weird because none of it is quite clicking in your head. When you get to the front of the line, you explain the situation and you get handed your tickets.

As the three of you make your way in, the three of you realize the seats you’re at are extremely good seats. In fact, the seats were right next to the glass. This only makes everything feel more overwhelming than it already is.

“Jesus, y/n, I can’t believe you didn’t know that he was a professional hockey player,” James says, astounded.

“Look, it’s not like work was a common topic for us. The first two times we met were in the middle of the night and I doubt either of us were very coherent,” you explain.

“Well, should make things fun now,” Sadie replies. “Oh, look, I think the game is starting!”

The whole game seems to pass in a blur and you don’t take a whole lot in. It’s overwhelming and a lot is passing through your head. Anthony doesn’t seem to be looking for you, which makes sense, but you still had some kind of hope that he would have been. After the game has ended, Anthony texts you asking you to wait for him.

“So, Anthony is asking us to meet him in the parking lot, but he’s apologizing for not having a car seat?” you say, confused.

“Why would we need a car seat? Is this some weird joke that you guys have that you didn’t tell me about?” Sadie asks.

“No, I would remember that. Maybe he didn’t mean to send that to me,” you say.

It takes almost forty-five minutes for Anthony to come out to the parking lot, and then he shoots Sadie and James a weird look. The two of them are just standing there, holding hands, so you aren’t sure what’s going on. He awkwardly waves at the three of you as he approaches.

“Uh, hey guys?” Anthony greets.

“Hey, Anthony! You already know Sadie, but this is her boyfriend, James,” you introduce.

Anthony shakes James’ hand in a daze. James raises an eyebrow at this, obviously sensing his confusion.

“So, um, this is going to sound really, really weird, but I thought James was your kid, Sadie. And I thought you were dating y/n,” Anthony explains.

“I mean, y/n didn’t realize you played in the NHL, so I think the two of you are almost even,” Sadie jokes.

“You didn’t know I played in the NHL?” Anthony inquires.

“It never came up, so I just assumed it was a small team or something” you reply, shrugging.

“You two are honestly so perfect for each other,” James remarks. “With how oblivious the two of you are, I think you’ll be perfectly happy.”

“James!” you exclaim.

Anthony blushes widely. “Um, I was going to invite you guys out for drinks or something, but…”

“I would love to go for drinks, but I also feel really overwhelmed right now?” you reply. “Maybe we could go for coffee tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I would like that,” Anthony says, with a small smile.

~ ~ ~

The two of you meet in the small coffee shop you saw each other in only a couple of weeks ago. You were pretty restless the night before, thinking about the amount of miscommunication both of you had. In all honesty, you were extremely surprised that he thought you were dating Sadie and that James was your kid. But you also felt blindsided by his profession, even when it would have been pretty easy to figure it out if you just googled him.

“So, uh, I feel kind of stupid,” Anthony says, once the two of you sit down with your coffees.

“God, I feel the same,” you reply. “I can’t believe neither of us knew.”

“Well, at least we’re here now,” he says. “And, um, I was wondering if this would count as a date?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

Anthony smiles brightly and grabs your hand that isn’t holding onto your coffee, which just makes you smile in return.

“So, is there anything else that I should know about you that could have completely gone over my head?” he asks.

#anthony beauvillier #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #new york islanders #mine

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evalinkatrineberg · 5 years ago

Text

Practice Prompt 1

I knew something was up the moment Lydia walked through the door with a giddy look on her face. That look was normally reserved only for the moment right before she opened her birthday presents, or when a prank she was attempting to pull on one of our brothers went off as perfectly as she had planned it to. This warm May evening was certainly not her birthday, and I was fairly certain she hadn’t orchestrated another prank since the gnome debacle the day before. Yet, the look didn’t vanish from her face as she placed the mail down on the small wooden shoe rack by the front door, making quick work of her shoelaces.

She must be excited about something in the mail, I decided. I was undeniably curious about what it could be, but I had bigger things to worry about at the moment. My final paper for my Integrative Biology of Fishes class was due at midnight, just six short hours from now, and I wanted to make sure it was perfect. Sure, I was already on my fifth round of edits, but if I could pull off a high grade in this class, it would do wonders for my GPA.

Within seconds of me turning back to my work, Lydia was practically dancing around the dining room table, humming to herself. As much as I wanted to focus on my work, I couldn’t help but look up and smile at her. Lydia might be twenty-four years old now, but she had never lost her youthful exuberance. Her energy was infectious, and before long, I decided to submit the essay as it was, and finally looked up from my work at my older sister, who was staring back at me expectantly. I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Do you want to call everyone down here, or should I?”

I bit my lip, totally unsure of how to respond. Why did she want our entire family present for a piece of mail? Sure, she had a flair for dramatics, but she had to know how annoyed our brothers would be if she dragged them downstairs for something unimportant to them, like a letter from one of her friends. The last time she had called all of us together to open a letter was when she was receiving her admissions decisions from grad schools. She had just about finished her masters degree now, though. Unless she was planning on pursuing a doctorate? I frowned. Surely she would have told me about that, if that was the case. We’d shared a bedroom for most of our lives, and whispered our hopes and dreams to each other in the dark almost every night while we were growing up. We knew all of each other’s secrets. Or at least, I thought we did.

“How about I call everyone down?” Our mother emerged from the kitchen at that moment, a basket full of bread rolls in her hands.

Lydia had definitely gotten her never-fading youth from our mother. Despite now being the mother of five children, she didn’t appear to have a single gray hair, or a single line on her face. Our father had always joked that he had thought our mother was fifteen years old when they had first met, until she had corrected him, and told him that she was actually twenty-two.

“That works, too,” Lydia replied, her grin slowly growing wider.

Our mother simply nodded, walking to the foot of the staircase before yelling, “Boys! Come down for dinner! It’s almost ready!”

The thundering of my brothers’ footsteps overhead was the only response. Now that it was May, all of us were back from college for the summer. The only one of us who even had to leave the house for school still was Randall, who was sixteen and still in high school, but even his school year was about to come to a close. Gabriel, who was twenty-two, had just finished up his undergrad education, and was home until he went back to his alma mater in the fall to pursue a masters degree in chemistry. Sam, who was twenty, had finished his finals just a few days before I had finished my own, and was home for a few weeks before he began his summer internship.

I had opted to go to college closer to home, and as a result, still lived at home year round. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to travel - in fact, I yearned to see the rest of Illea, and the world as a whole. Rather, it was more of a practical decision. The city we lived in, Knoxville, was home to a great university. As an added bonus, my father was the head of a research team in one of labs there, so he was able to drive me to and from campus everyday. Plus, with Lydia being away at college, I had had my own bedroom for the past few years, and I was a little hesitant to go back to sharing a room. Sure, sharing a dorm room would have likely been fine, but I did like having my own space to retreat back to at the end of the day, especially after organic chemistry lab sessions.

Knoxville also had its charms outside of school. It was a city with many parks, perfect for running early in the morning before class. I was also quite fond of the downtown areas of the city as well, with their bright lights and stone streets.

Within moments, my brothers had taken their seats around me. My father followed behind them, fluffing my hair as he passed by to take the seat at the had of the table. Lydia, however, remained standing, an envelope clutched in her hand as she looked at all of us. The envelope itself appeared to be rather thick, though it was hard to be certain with Lydia holding it so tightly to her chest. It definitely wasn’t as big as her college acceptance letters had been, so at the very least, I was fairly certain she wasn’t keeping any secrets pertaining to her education from me. That was a start, I supposed.

“Well?” Our mother’s voice cut through my thoughts. She had taken up a spot standing behind my father, rubbing his shoulders with her hands.

Lydia just smiled before opening the envelope and clearing her throat. “‘Dear women of Illea,’” she read. I felt time come to a screeching halt around me the moment the words exited her mouth. “‘A recent census has confirmed that a single woman between the ages of nineteen and twenty-three currently resides in your home. We would like to make you aware of an upcoming opportunity to honor the great nation of Illea. As our beloved prince ventures into the next part of his life, he hopes to move forward with a partner, to marry a true daughter of Illea. Please fill out the enclosed form and return it to your local Province Services Office no later than May 10th. One woman from each province will be drawn at random to meet the prince.’”

All of us were silent for a moment, the only sounds in our small house the droning of the cicadas outside and the light buzz of the oven in the kitchen. A Selection! It didn’t feel real. The Selection was something Lydia and I had always talked about when we were on the brink of sleep as children. She had teased me mercilessly about my crush on Prince Arin, and I had been content to let my fantasies of being one of the Selected lull me to sleep. They were never more than that - fantasies - though. Until now.

Randall was the first to break the silence. “Upset that you’re too old to partake, Lydia?” His tone was teasing as he leaned back in his chair.

It began to sink in that Lydia was, in fact, too old to be the intended recipient of the letter. It was for me. I was nineteen, turning twenty in the autumn, putting me snugly within the age range announced in the letter.

“Are you going to do it, Ev?” My mother’s voice was soft, her words almost a whisper as she, along with all the other members of my family, looked at me.

I exhaled through my mouth, smiling slightly. “I mean, how could I say no?” It’s been a dream of mine since I was a child, I added, not daring to speak the words out loud.

It had been almost ten years since I had admitted my crush on Prince Arin to my sister, and she had never let me live it down. While it could certainly be written off as the fantasy of a young girl, it was hard to deny now, based purely on photographic evidence, of course, that the prince had grown into a handsome man. I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d be like in person. Would he live up to how he was portrayed by the media? Was this my chance at having the sweep-you-off-your-feet kind of romance that I had dreamed about as a child?

Perhaps my expectations for romance were a tad too high, but I could blame that on my parents. The story of how they met and fell in love was one of the most romantic, albeit cheesy, stories that I knew, and they told it to all of us kids often while we were growing up. My father had been completing a study on how different types of music affected brain activity in humans. To help him with his experiment, he had hired a few musicians, all Fives, to play different styles of music for each of his test subjects. It was then that a certain young violinist caught his eye, and by the time most of his trials were done, and he realized he might never see her again, he asked her on date. Six months later, after his trials had ended, they were engaged. Twenty-five years after that, they were still happily married, my mother having taken her new position as a Three in stride.

I looked over to my parents, trying to gauge their reactions. My mother was smiling, a hint of something I couldn’t quite place sparkling in her eyes. My father, on the other hand, was silent and expressionless, his hands folded under his chin, elbows brace on the table, as he looked down at nothing in particular.

As if he sensed that I was looking at him, he turned to face me, barely smiling as he said, “If it’s truly what you want to do, then I support your decision.”

His statement shattered the tension holding us all in place. Almost immediately, Lydia squealed, running around the table to hug me, the letter still in her hands. “You’ve got to start filling it out now,” she demanded, her smile wide as she smacked the form down on the table in front of me.

“After dinner,” my mother argued, making her way to the kitchen. “The Selection can wait an hour or so.”

I could hardly eat the food my mother had cooked as it was dished out around the table. All I could think about was the Selection, and what role I might play in it. Was I getting my hopes up too soon? What were the odds that I would even be Selected? What would I even do if I was Selected? The questions swirled in my head like a tornado, and the few bites of food I did eat were practically tasteless.

Time seemed to drag on until my mother and Lydia began clearing away the plates, Lydia moving the form back in front of me as she took away my plate. My brothers and father wandered over to the living room, turning on the TV to the news and chatting intermittently about how their days had been.

I stayed put at the table, Lydia eventually coming to take the seat on my left, and my mother the seat on my right. One of them must have handed me a pen, because there was one in my hand, though I made no move to use it.

I knew without looking that Lydia was rolling her eyes at me. “Come on, Evalin! You can’t fill out that form by staring at it!”

She was right. I let out a shuddering sigh, and put pen to paper, slowly filling out the form. The first few questions were easy enough. Name? Evalin Katrine Berg. Age? 19. Caste? Three. Height? 5 feet, 9 inches. Weight?

My mind blanked there for a moment. I had never been the kind of person to weigh myself daily, and neither were my mother nor sister, that I knew of. I looked at my mother, who, luckily, had already been looking over my shoulder.

“One hundred and twenty-one pounds, at your last doctors visit,” she supplied.

I shook my head as I scrawled her answer down on the paper. “I don’t know how you remember that.”

“It’s my job, as a mother,” she answered as she placed her arm over the back of my chair.

“Do you have all of our medical information memorized?” Lydia leaned back in her chair to get a clearer view of our mother as she talked.

I tuned out their continuing conversation as I forged onwards in filling out the form. Hair color? Blonde. Eye color? Blue. How many languages can you speak? Two, English and Swendish. My father’s parents were from Swendenway, and while my father had never been there himself, he made sure that all of his children knew how to speak the language.

What is the highest grade level you have completed? Some college.

“Oh, we have to field this one to everyone,” Lydia, who was back to looking over my shoulder, declared when she saw the next question. In a louder voice, she asked, “What are some special skills that Evalin possesses?”

“Being a nerd!” Randall’s answer was instant, and clearly didn’t require much effort.

“Being able to get up at the crack of dawn to run!” Though he had meant it as a joke, Gabriel might have just given me a marketable skill. I tapped my pen against my cheek as I pondered how to rephrase it to make it sound more impressive.

“She’s good at building things with her organic chemistry lab kit!” At least Sam was trying to be helpful.

My mother let out a loud sigh. “Don’t listen to them. You have great organizational skills, you’re a fast learner, and you’ve got a good memory. You’re also not a quitter, and you’re good at approaching a problem from many angles in order to find a solution.”

“And you know how to use a microscope,” Lydia tagged on, as I began rephrasing my mother’s statement into my own words on the paper.

Not long after that, I was placing the form into an envelope and sealing it, my mother assuring me that we could go to the Province Services Office early the next day to drop it off. I nodded, making my way to the stairs, exhaustion weighing my steps down. Why had filling out a form taken so much out of me? It should’ve been far easier than a lot of the work I did for school, and yet, somehow that form made me more nervous than any exam or paper ever could.

At the top of the staircase, the door to my father’s office was ajar. He sat behind his desk, his glasses firmly planted on the bridge of his nose as he squinted at something on one of the papers that littered his desk. The image of him in this exact position was a staple throughout my entire life. Days were very routine in our household, and they always ended with us all bidding my father goodnight as we passed his office on our way to our bedrooms.

I knocked twice on the open wooden door before stepping into his office, stopping to stand across his desk from him. “I hope I’m not interrupting! I just wanted to talk to you before I call it a night.”

He looked up at me then, offering me a small smile as he took the stack of papers he was looking at and tapped them against his desk twice, so that they were all lined up in a neater, more orderly pile. “You’re not interrupting anything important.”

It was my father’s way of saying to continue. Many people outside of our family had complained to my mother and I about my father’s supposedly odd mannerisms, but to me, they were as easy to read as any book. Then again, my father and I had always been very close, united by our common interest in biology, which I had been fascinated by at a young age.

“I just,” I began, searching for the right words. “I wanted to say that I understand if you’re disappointed in my decision, but I don’t see entering in the Selection as something that will set me back in any way.”

“Evalin,” he stated, stopping the speech I had mentally been preparing in its tracks. “I’m not disappointed in you. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

I furrowed my brows. This certainly had not been the response I was expecting from him.

“You have your entire life ahead of you, and there will be plenty of time for you to complete your education. There hasn’t been a Selection in half a century, so it’s arguably a once in a lifetime opportunity. Therefore, if you truly want to do it, you should do it.”

I was practically beaming as I walked around the desk to hug my father, who had stood up as I walked towards him. Though he wasn’t a particularly emotional man, he was a great hugger, in my opinion, and the scents of home - coffee and hazelnut - always filled my nose when he held me.

I pulled away first, inclining my head towards the door as I said, “I’m dead tired. It’s definitely time for bed.”

He nodded. “You should get some sleep. I have a feeling you’ve got some long days ahead of you.”

“And just when I thought I was finished with a stressful semester,” I replied with a laugh, shaking my head.

“Life goes on,” he stated, following me out of his office and shutting the door behind him. I was about to head towards my bedroom when he place his hand on my shoulder. “And Evalin? No matter what happens, you’re going to do great things. Don’t forget that.”

I nodded, looking over my shoulder and offering him a small smile. “Thanks.”

With that, he nodded once and turned on his heel, heading off to the master bedroom at the other end of the hallway. His words echoed in my head as I made my way towards my own room, which was still aglow with the light of Lydia’s desk lamp. I hope I am able to do great things, I thought, pausing at the doorway of my bedroom. Being a part of the Selection would be a great thing, for sure.

All I could do after submitting my form tomorrow, until the Selected girls were announced, was hope that by some miracle, I was chosen. Maybe dreams would come true, after all. Maybe it was my turn to have a love story to tell my children one day. Maybe, just maybe, this unforeseen opportunity was the greatest gift I had ever been given.

#selectionoc

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jj-lynn21 · 4 years ago

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Cozy Cove: Big Decisions

Warning: angst

Saved by an Angel , A side of tits with your pancakes ,Fires Burn Hot , spending the nights , Learning and Loving ,The end id not always the end , Axel Grease, Big Decisions, Sex and Jet Skis, Late night fun , Old Wounds , Storms pass , Dangerous Waters

Axel tossed his keys in his hands when he got off his motorcycle in front of the beach house. He was freshly showered and adorn in clean cloths from a quick stop to shower at his brother Eric’s home.

“Be grateful she is here, but encourage her to return to her studies so when she comes back to you for good she has no regrets,” Eric advised.

Axel was uncharacteristically nervous. Nervous to see his girl relaxing on the couch or still laid out in his bed, their bed. He wanted her there more than anything but also part of him really enjoyed living alone. The more he thought about it the more it seemed to be the biggest decision he ever made.

Susie was lounging on the couch when Axel walked in the door. He tossed his keys is a dish. Axel tries not to react that she is drinking his last beer. He meant to stop to get more today but it slipped his mind until this moment. She looks up at him with a smile. He smiles crossing to the kitchen for at least a bottled water. To his surprise there are two six packs. He grabbed a beer thinking it might really be nice to have her here full time. But first he had to make sure it was what she really wanted.

‘Thanks for the beer, Babe. I ordered Pizza.” Axel sits next to her on the couch takes a long pull from the beer can and sets in down on the stand, “Now...”

Susie throws her body on to his. Kisses him frantically hands starting on his face. Then moving down to tug at his shorts. Axel puts his hands on her face kissing her madly before pulling away.

He grabs her hands breathing heavily, “Pump the breaks. What’s going on?”

“I thought you wanted me, Axel,” Susie pouts.

“Of course, I do Babe,” He kisses her tiny knuckles one at a time. “I want to fuck all over this place. Right her on the couch, bend you right over the chair there...”

She bites her lips starting to get antsy. Wetness pools between her thighs.

“against the wall, on the table in the kitchen, outside on the porch as the moon rises howling like animals and many, many, many times I want to fuck you in our bed all slow to building. But right now, is not the time, Susie. You need to tell me why you came here when you should be finishing grad school.”

She rolled her eyes, “What do you think of female mechanics?”

Axel grips her wrists tightly, “First, don’t ever fucking roll your eyes at me like what I am saying isn’t important. Second, there is no such thing as a female mechanic. There is a good mechanic and those who pretend to be. It does not fucking matter if they are female or male. Now tell me everything that lead you here.” Axel sat back letting her go and grabbed his beer taking another long drink.

“I couldn’t handle it, Axel.” She whined. “I am not nearly as smart as the rest of them. I was barely able to keep my GPA up to par for my scholarship. I know I have one more semester, but I am not good enough. Even my instructor said my interview skills bore people and that is why I am the only one that has not gotten an internship yet. She said I needed to have a life to fix my skills. So, I withdrew to start a program at the trade school. In six months, I passed the written test. I thought I could work with you to finish my hands-on train and boom I have a degree. My parents will be fine as long as I have any degree.”

Axel looks at her blankly, “You are just running away. You cannot just decide to be a mechanic with a click of your fingers. I will see how you do at my garage, but you will finish your graduate work the next semester. I can help you be better in an interview. I interview people all the time and I know what I look for. It cannot be much different than what other people look for. We will work together to get you where you need to be. You will get a great internship. You will graduate. Then if you still love me enough to come back here, you will. But you will not use me to hide.”

“Sure, Daddy,” She said smartly.

Axel narrowed his eyes at her. “I mean it Susie Q. I will not be used by another beautiful woman.”

“I’m not here to use you, Axel.” Tears start to run down her face. “I love you. I am here for help. I just need a break. Can I just get one break?” Susie buries her face in her hands tuning away from Axel.

She starts to get up. Axel pulls her back into his lap. He holds her tightly. “I love you to dammit.” She does not struggle. She curls up on his lap sobbing. He rocks her smoothing a hand down her hair to pat her back gently. “You’re all right. I got you. I’ll help you the best I can.”

There is a knock at the door, “I got your pizza, Axel.”

“Be right there, Art.” Axel kissed the top of Susie’s head. “I’m going to put you on the couch with a blanket. You need to eat and get some more rest.” He put a blanket over her snuggling her in it all comfortable before getting the pizza at the door.

Axel made sure to give the delivery person a good tip. When hel came back inside with the pizza. Susie watched him from her cocoon like blanket as he got some plates. He chopped up some lettuce, cucumber and tomato with balsamic vinaigrette dressing drizzled lightly over it all for a side.

“Come eat Susie Q.” Axel coaxed. “Drink some water.”

Susie unwrapped her binding blanket and went to the table to sit where Axel had pulled a chair out. As she sipped at the water, he retrieved the blanket to drape around her shoulders. It never got frigid in Cozy Cove but there was a chill in the air in the evenings this time of year. Even Axel had on a thin grey sweater with his black cargo shorts.

Susie took one bite of salad, “So, what time will we go to work tomorrow?”

Axel growls under his breath in frustration, “I work two until ten tomorrow just like today and the rest of the week until the weekend when I will have time off unless anyone needs my expertise. You will rest this week. I have some mechanics manuals, magazines, and books you can read if you would like when I am not here. But when I am here, we have fun by any means we please. There will be no logical thinking or major decisions for you to make. I do not believe your Professor should have ever told you were boring because you are not. You have an adventurous heart, or you would not be here. You are anything but boring Susie Q. You just have to not be afraid to tell people all that you are, and you will get whatever you want.”

Susie bit her lip as she nodded.

“I can’t hear you when you nod Sweetheart,” he looks directly in her eyes as he takes another bite of pizza.

“You’re right,” Susie sighed. “I would like to turn my brain off for at least a few days. I trust you Axel. Do not take advantage of my trust and love.”

“I won’t,” He finished his beer. “I promise. How about we sit outside for a while. I will get the extra-large comforter in the closet to keep us warm. It is peaceful to listen and watch the waves break before bed.”

Susie smiled, “That sounds perfect.”

#mechanic axel #axel cluney #axel and susie q #fanfic #fiction #romance #angst #drama #couples #love #beach house #bill skarsgard inspired #bill skarsgard

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michaels-blackhat · 5 years ago

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love in a coffee shop

day 2/31 of my massive holiday project

for @irolltwenties, who is lovely in all ways. We wanted more echo fic, so here you go. Set in my coffee shop au.

The coffee black/egg white coffee roaster was Max’s favorite place in town to write. It had comfortable chairs, both plush ones perfect for reading and straight-backed chairs with just enough padding to be comfortable where he typed away at his manuscript. The cafe was brightly colored, murals on most of the walls that Rosa Ortecho painted, a mix of street art and traditional mural paintings that gave the cafe personality but also made it relaxing, like the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the novel all at once. Max had been a regular since day one, when Rosa opened after her experiments in roasting was so successful that she had to rent a space for a bigger batch roaster.

He came here often, after shifts or on his days off. It felt a little bit like he was a real writer, typing the day away to earn a living. It was his break from being Deputy Evans, from being someone who had to always be ready and on guard. Here he could sit in the corner, by the mural of the aliens stopping for a quick cup of joe, drink his americano with a splash of whole milk, and work toward his dream.

It helped that Rosa and Alex made the best breakfast sandwiches outside of The Crashdown. His favorite was on Monday for the simple egg and cheese sandwiches that manages to be beyond better than any sandwich should.

Max had been coming to coffee black/egg white since day one. He had been working on the same manuscript since day one too. Two years into it and he was finished. Well, he had a good rough draft and several cycles of editing, rewrites, and more editing to go, but it still felt like a celebration.

“One americano?” Alex asked as Max walked up. He smiled in his own way, a small quirk of his lips that looked more like amusement at Max’s expense than actual joy.

Max just grinned right back at him. “No,” he said, still with a smile, “we’re celebrating today. I’ll take one of Rosa’s chili mochas.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at that.

“Celebrating, really? What are you celebrating?”

“I have a first draft of my book,” Max replied.

“That’s amazing!” A new voice said from behind Max. He whirled around only to stop dead in his tracks.

“Liz,” he said, stunned and breathless. He was frozen in front of her. “You’re back.”

In the five years since they graduated high school, Liz had returned to Roswell only a handful of times, so busy with her degree and then with internships and then with grad school. Each time she returned Max would run into her at The Crashdown, freeze, barely utter a word before she smiled wide at him and left with Maria and Alex.

Each time, she took his breath away. This time was no exception. She was casual, for her at least, in nice black jeans and boots, a deep red sweater that made her skin glow, red lips and black eyeliner accentuating her warm smile and her kind eyes. Her hair was different from the last time though, shorter than it was but still glossy.

She smiled softly at him. “Yeah, I managed to take the entire winter break this time. But come on! You finished your first draft! That’s amazing!” She turned to Alex who had been watching them in bemusement. “I’m paying for the author’s drink Alex! Oh! And a churro!” She turned back to Max. “I know it’s not a Little Green Man Shake, but it’s still delicious.”

Max felt his stunned expression melted into a small, sheepish smile.

“You remember my milkshake order?”

“You got it every day.”

“Still, that was years ago.”

“A waitress never forgets her regulars.” Liz’s smile softened a little as she added, “Especially when the highlight of my shift was talking to that regular.”

With that Max lost every word he ever knew. He wanted to say something about how Liz was always the highlight of his day too, how beautiful her smile was, how kind she was to offer to pay, how he couldn’t accept that kindness. Max was still frozen, stuck simply smiling at Liz with an open expression that clearly told everyone who was watching that he adored the woman in front of him.

Max was saved by a loud thump and the sound of Alex loudly clearing his throat.

Max turned around to see his chili mocha in a mug, next to a mug that looked like hot cocoa and a plate of churros.

“How about you two go take this trip down memory lane to a table, where I don’t have to see you two flirting, ok?”

“We’re not…” Max started to stutter out before Liz grabbed her mug and the plate with a smile.

“Fine, we’ll go flirt somewhere else.” She nudged Max’s arm with her elbow and gestured toward his favorite table. “Come on Max, I want to hear all about your book.”

Max grabbed his mug, face flushed, and tried to avoid looking at Alex Manes’ growing smirk. As he walked away, he could hear Alex’s laughter as he called into the backroom for Rosa’s attention. Max ignored it and made his way to his favorite table.

Liz was as wonderful as he remembered, funny and snappy but always in a lighthearted way. She smiled and his heart melted, and that was just as he remembered it too. They talked for hours, about Max’s manuscript and Liz’s research, about what she loved about Denver and what she missed about home. They talked so long that Rosa kicked them out with a teasing grin.

They walked outside together, Max’s hands fiddling awkwardly in front of him while Liz just smiled up at him. She took his hand and tugged it until it rested comfortably at his side, his hand still in hers.

“So,” she said without any hesitation, “The Crashdown is still open. Maybe we can head there, share a shake?”

Max smiled down at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I missed a lot about Roswell Max Evans, but I don’t want to keep missing you.”

Max moved toward The Crashdown, Liz Ortecho at his side holding his hand.

“So milkshakes, and definitely fries too.” He looked over at her and asked, “Anything else?”

“Yes, after we’re done you can kiss me goodnight and plan a date for later this week.”

For the second time that day Max froze.

“Yeah?” He asked, once again breathless.

“Yeah,” Liz agreed, breathless herself.

“Or,” Max said as he gently pulled Liz toward his body in a hug. “Or I could kiss you now?” He asked, hesitant. “And then kiss you after as well? Only, if you want,” he added in a rush at the end.

Liz wrapped her arms around Max’s neck and pulled his head down so that their foreheads touched.

“Yes,” she agreed as she rubbed her nose against Max’s. “Yes, we could kiss now.”

She moved her head and their lips brushed. They kissed, gentle and sweet and short before Max pulled away slightly.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asked, lips still grazing Liz’s as he spoke.

“Yes.”

And he kissed her again and again

#rnm echo #rnm fic #liz ortecho #max evans #roswell new mexico #echo fic #my fic #holiday fic gifts #coffee black/egg white #irolltwenties

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lifesucksheres20bucks · 5 years ago

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Reddie going to on a date to the fair...only if you want💗

YES I LOVE THIS CONCEPT

*i took me so long to write this, there might be some errors sorry*

- def like last summer of them all being in derry

-their 18 and richie is moving to LA and eddie is going to NY

-richie knows his time with eds is running out and hes been a lot more clingy than usual

-eddie knows it too and hes been spendig a lot more alone time with his favorite trashmouth

-eddie HATES change so he has regular panic attack just thinking of being away from the losers (especially richie)

when he gets the panic attacks he usually just throws himself onto richie and starts playing with his shirt

richie started seeing a pattern and lets him calm down, he tries rubbing his back or making him laugh

when eddie isnt with richie when he has one (which tends to only happen at night) he will sneak out of his house and go to richies (richie now leaves his window open for eddie bc of it )

the losers part ways in about 3 weeks

so for the past week eddie has been sleeping at richies everynight, he waits for his mom to go to sleep and goes directly to richies house

they usually just lie in bed somewhat cuddling

they both know theres this unspoken thing between them but no one acts on it

the second to last week of August theres the annual Derry summer fair. The losers have been going there since forever and its like the best part of the summer for them

they usually all go together for a whole day and stay to watch the fireworks then head to mikes farm for a sleepover/bonfire

one day richie cant take it anymore and calls bev, he just kinda blurs out that he loves eddie and bev starts laughing

“yeah we all figured you guys love eachother”

“wait you guys? you think eddie loves me too?”

“well none of us spend every night cuddling, and holding hands and sitting on each others laps”

“you guys noticed that huh”

“omg you’re such a idiot sometimes rich”

“idk what to do though, how am i going to live without eddie”

“you guys will see each other, dont worry, we promised each other annual trips and we all come back to derry for the summers right? You guys will see each other eventually”

“but i can barely stand being without him for a day. You remember last month when his mother didnt let him leave the house bc he coughed? I was freaking miserable that day and i made everyone else miserable too.”

“well rich, i dont know what to tell you, youre going to have to find a way to survive without him, you guys can still call each other when your in school. Its a temporary move, you guys can live together or whatever after college”

“i need to tell him how i feel, i cant just leave without telling him”

“I think thats a good idea, let me know how it goes”

the next day the losers go to the fair, end up causing too much trouble (like always) and then went back to mikes farm. they all got drunk and very emotional, lots of crying bc they were all moving. some promises were made about calling each other at least once a week and plans were made about visiting each other during the thanksgiving holiday and taking a spring break trip together. (their all going to NYC for thanksgiving to see the christmas tree and probably going to LA for spring break)

during the sleepover richie and eddie and sleeping next to each other, richie reaches out to see if eddie is awake and as soon as richies hand is on eddie back, eddie turns around and puts his head on richies chest.

“eddie do you want to go back to the fair with me tomorrow?”

“yeah we can go back , i think mike would like that bc he was totally smitten with that gir-

“no i mean just you and me”

“just you and me....uhh um okay that sounds like fun”

THE NEXT DAY

after eating breakfast at the farm they make up some weird excuse to why they couldnt hang out with the other losers and both leave (richie somehow said he needed to buy a cat)

-once they get to the fair theres this kinda awkward silence between them. Richie tries to make stupid jokes but all hes getting from eddie is nervous laughter

“hey eds whats wrong” richie says as he grads eddies hand

“i just, idk what are we doing?”

“well were at the fair, its this big fun thing we do every year”

“i know what a fair is you idiot, i mean why did you only want to come with me”

“bc i wanted to spend the day with my little eds!” (richie def pinches his cheek)

“dont call me that! god im so not going to miss that nickname when college starts”

“stop lying to yourself my little spaghetti, youre going to miss not hearing it everyday”

they end up walking around trying some of the games.

eddie spotted a Koala that he really wanted and richie set out a mission to win it

he ended up spending like 20 dollars on tickets bc he kept losing the game. but when he finally got it, the look on eddies face made it all worthwhile

eddie decided to name the koala trashmouth for his knight in shining armour that got him in the first place

richie melts

eddie also named him that bc richie TOTALLY loves to koala hug eddie (and thats also why he wanted the koala in the first place bc he thought of richie when he saw it)

eddie gets them both candied apples

richie drops his after two bites

so they end up sharing eddies

at the end of the day richie insists on going to the ferris wheel

so they go and they sit right next to each other, eddie head on richies shoulder and finger intertwined

they stop at the top and richie thinks its now or never

“hey eds, i need to tell you something and i dont want you to say anything, just let me finish”

“hm okay”

“you know how a couple of years ago you told me you loved coming to the fair because being here with your friends made you so happy. And that you absolutely loved coming on the Ferris wheel because being so high up and seeing the beautiful view of the town at sunset made you feel at peace and so whole...”

“yeah i remember that”

“well thats how you make me feel”

richie is playing with the hem of his shirt and every second that eddie doesnt say anything he starts shaking more and more

eddie sits quietly, in shock, and finally starts to process what richie says. he is quickly distracted by a tapping noise coming form richie

he looks at richie and sadness overcomes him, hes never seen richie look so nervous and scared in his life. the only thing he wants to do is hold him tight and thats exactly what the does

the second eddie takes richie into his arms richie just starts sobbing. the relief of the secret and the reality or their situation was just too much for him to handle

“shh shh ‘chee its okay, please dont cry baby”

“ i just, i dont know how im going to survive without you, youre my bestest friend eds and i love you so much..”

“i love you too richie, so much, why do you think i always sneak into your bedroom? all the panic attacks? its all because i keep thinking of college without you”

“why did we wait so long? i should have told you when i was 14, fucking hell Tozier always says stupid shit but never the right shit”

“richie stop youre not stupid, I should have told you, i just didnt know how. I know we waited too long but im so happy it happened this way. I dont think it would have worked out if we had told eachother sooner, we were so young. Now that were moving out of this shit hole we get to be ourselves and we can make this work”

“but youre going to be so far away...”

“ill come visit you and i you can come see me, ill call you every night, this is going to work, i know it is bc its us and i know were meant to be together”

“promise you wont forget me when im in LA”

“how can I ‘chee, you’re literally all i think about”

“wow okay this is getting really cheesy so can i just add a bit more cheesiness and kiss you at the top of the Ferris wheel?”

“ ugh okay but only since were already here and i dont think i can wait a minute longer”

richie cups eddies face and kisses him passionately

(ITS A SHITTY ENDING I KNOW I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT IM SORRY IM REALLY NOT MADE FOR WRITING)

this is definitely a story they will share with their kids in the future ❤️

#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #reddie prompt #character prompts #yeah its pretty shit im sorry

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forestwater87 · 5 years ago

Text

201X in Review: A journey of cringe and regrets

Realizing 2020 is really close and wanted to look back at the second (full) decade I’ve actually been alive for. I feel like either a huge amount of stuff has happened, or basically nothing’s happened, but there’s no middle ground.

2010:

Cringy 2010 photo: High school prom (in middle, dark green dress and...a face)

Junior in high school.

Had my first-ever Real Boyfriend(TM). (Pictured in above cringy photo.)

Had just ended an extremely toxic 12-year relationship and was still figuring out how to have friends.

Chemistry fucking SUUUUUCKED and I don’t miss it.

Had a super intense love for Megamind. I saw it minimum of 4 times in theaters and had a major crush on that blue lil nerd. (Began a personal grudge against both Tangled and Despicable Me for taking away its deserved spotlight, a resentment I have not yet gotten past 10 years later.)

Most regrettable 2010 memory: Getting way too intense about a new boyfriend and lowkey abandoning my friends. Not cool.

Most awesome 2010 memory: I have friends from back then I still love and keep in touch with (despite my abandoning them for a bit there). That’s pretty dang awesome.

2011:

Cringy 2011 photo: High school graduation with one of the most beautiful women in existence. (We’re still friends, and she’s still gorgeous.)

Graduated high school! (Gym fucking SUUUUUCKED and I don’t miss it.)

Fell in love with the college that was supposed to be a “safety school” and didn’t apply anywhere else, which means I can brag about having been accepted into 100% of the colleges I applied to.

Started at Ithaca College -- don’t say “it’s gorges,” it gets so old so fast -- and had a miserable first semester and an incredible second.

Started getting . . . uncomfortably involved in religious groups. (I mean, I’d been doing that since I was a kid, but it got kicked up to 11 in college.)

Most regrettable 2011 memory: Dressed as a “g***y” for Halloween. Fucking yikes.

Most awesome 2011 memory: Figuring out what I want to be when I grow up.

2012:

Cringy 2012 photo: Modeling first successfully completed knitting project. With bamboo needles because Ithaca is a hippie paradise.

Learned how to knit, entirely out of boredom in long lectures.

Technically started my tumblr experience, though it was only for a few months while I worked through some Shit by being in love with Loki from the Avengers (and THiddleston in general). Stayed on here just long enough to discover Achievement Hunter and Rooster Teeth, and never went back.

Broke up with first-ever Real Boyfriend(TM) and handled it so well I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety disorder.

Got very deep in a religious group at IC, which was . . . not very healthy and could perhaps not inaccurately be described as “cultlike.” (I owe a major apology to everyone who knew me back then; I was very much a major bitch.)

Despite the previous two bullet points, this was the best year of my life up until that point. I lived next door to my two best friends in college, loved my major, and pretty much was confident that I had everything figured out.

Most regrettable 2012 memory: Writing a fan letter to Tom Hiddleston, which included a photo of me and my phone number. I was convinced my charm and wit would totally make him fall in love with me.

Most awesome 2012 memory: Pretty sure this is the year my love affair with RiffTrax began, too. I had a posse and we’d go see live shows together.

2013-2014:

Cringy 2013 photo: A blanket that I made and sent to Jennamarlbes for her dogs, because it was too small for people. Pretty sure it showed up in a video at one point.

Cringy 2014 photo: My awesome college roommates and I dressed up to give out candy to people’s dorms on Halloween. Reverse trick-or-treating: very fun, always recommended.

HA. So much for having anything figured out.

I don’t actually remember much of this period in my life, because I was navel-deep in a major religious crisis that would continue until . . . a couple months ago, basically? There was a lot of freaking out and trying to reconcile culty fundamentalism with the freewheeling pinko that lived deep inside and was trying to break free.

Lots of therapy, though. And med adjustments. Eventually figured out something that worked. Free campus counseling was the bomb though.

I do remember living in an apartment and cooking for myself for the first time, and also playing a lot of tabletop games with my roommates. (Also drinking. Lots of drinking.)

Oh shit, was this when I started that Drunk Librarian blog? I was trying really hard to be The Nostalgia Critic for books (ew), but I remember having a lot of fun with that. That was when my lifelong vendetta against John Green began.

Most regrettable 2013-2014 memory: Did I mention that the blanket I sent to Jenna included a letter? Did I mention that letter included some bible verses I thought she would appreciate????

Most awesome 2013-14 memory: Started a knitting club. It was just like 4 people hanging out and not knitting.

2015:

Cringy 2015 photo: Me being emaciated, makeup-smeared, and proudly showing off a collarbone piercing. That piercing has since rejected, but was in fact cute af.

Graduated college! Summa cum laude, bitches. (And an unfinished minor because I didn’t feel like taking the one (1) class I needed to graduate.)

Started library school and moved back home with parents. That was . . . an adjustment.

Changed library school “majors” halfway through my first year, after a lot of soul searching and panic attacks.

Had a short but catastrophic relationship with a man 9 years older than me (who was my pastor. Awkward). Religious crisis continued.

Got really skinny and hot because I was too miserable to eat. Dyed my hair red for the first time and looked basically like Ariel.

Discovered Party Hard and got really good at killing people.

Remembered how much I fucking love my parents’ dog:

Most regrettable 2015 memory: Being that person who “thought I could change him.”

Most awesome 2015 memory: Did you see how cute that dog is? His name is Oscar, after Oscar the Grouch.

2016:

Cringy 2016 photo: I had this huge thing for 1950s dresses for a while, complete with petticoats.

Grad school continued.

Religious crisis continued.

Therapy happens to deal with Things, is quickly dropped due to money and lack of shrink-chemistry.

Discovered a dumb little web cartoon with a teensy fanbase and no love for my favorite ship. Began work on a fanfic to correct this.

Finished a long-form fanfic for the first time in my entire life.

Virtually abandoned every other fandom to hyperfixate on this for the rest of my life.

Got super political, then super depressed. Quit Facebook because I realized I hate everyone I’m FB friends with.

Discovered Stardew Valley and never got anything done ever again.

Found Tumblr again (needed it to keep in touch with my first-ever beta reader, @raenbowsofficial) and turned into fandom and politics trash.

Most regrettable 2016 memory: Man, was I cocky about that Hillary Clinton winning the election. Oops.

Most awesome 2016 memory: I mean, CAMP CAMP. Obviously.

2017:

Cringy 2017 photo: My first day of work as a very bisexual-in-denial librarian.

Finished grad school and became a certified librarian (in NYS anyway)!

Got a job at a local college, including my own office!

Shaved half my head!

Moved into my own apartment and adopted a cat, fulfilling a goal over 7 years in the making!

Became friends with two of the most important people I’ve ever met. Visited one of them on a semi-impromptu 9-hour drive to Virginia and met IRL for the first time. First ever all-night solo trip, one of the best days of my life.

This might’ve been the year I got the VFD eye tattooed on my ankle, though I can’t swear to that.

Was part of my first long-form tabletop RPG with friends from college (and friends-of-friends). Was very emotional and also quite gay.

Rediscovered Megamind thanks to excellent fanfiction. That shit is still great.

Currently the best year I’ve ever had.

Most regrettable 2017 memory: I should’ve attended my graduation from library school instead of deciding it didn’t matter. It mattered a lot.

Most awesome 2017 memory: Seeing the-artist-formerly-known-as-ciphernetics in person.

2018:

Cringy 2018 photo: Um, apparently we don’t get one, because there’s an image limit to these posts. Lame.

Was laid off and took 6 months to find another full-time job. Spent most of that time depression-napping.

Said full-time job lasted 4 months before I ran like my shoes were on fire, because it was morally . . . suspicious and left me borderline suicidal.

Got very fat because I was too miserable to stop eating.

Had to cut my hair so I would look “professional.” Looked like my ex-boyfriend. My mom said I “looked like a Trump supporter.” To-date the meanest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

Moved back in with my parents due to not-having-job-ness (got to bring the cat, though).

Lost parents’ health insurance and had to pay for my own. Discovered health insurance is ridiculously expensive.

Became super left-leaning thanks to the power of Tumblr and Youtube (and possibly that super expensive health insurance thing).

Writing came to a virtual standstill, though I managed to organize and actually finish participating in all of Gwenvid Week (for the first time).

Two weeks after quitting the job from hell and three weeks after moving back in with the parents, I was offered my old position back. Accepted. Was once again a college librarian.

Most regrettable 2018 memory: Knowing I didn’t want the nightmare job and accepting it anyway. Might’ve been the only choice, but it caused a lot of unhappiness.

Most awesome 2018 memory: The day I was laid off, I hopped on a plane and went to fucking Disney World. Because why not?

2019:

Started work again. Finally (mostly) stopped having panic attacks about being fired/laid off out of the middle of nowhere around 8 months into new job.

Fewer paper cuts than expected.

Accidentally became associated with dinosaurs at work, despite not having any sort of special affinity for dinosaurs.

Did develop a deep and abiding affinity for octopus. Also elephants.

Took cat to doctor. Cat didn’t enjoy doctor. Cat is now 8 lbs. and 14 oz. She is big girl.

Rediscovered the joy of reading again. Newly discovered that mysteries actually can be pretty awesome, and read barely anything else all year. (Personal recommendations: The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton and Waisted by Randy Susan Meyers.)

So. Many. Youtube. Video. Essays.

Discovered Stardew Valley mods and eventually broke 3k hours of playtime.

Napped frequently. Panicked less frequently. It’s a step in the right direction.

Most regrettable 2019 memory: This post sure is long and over-share-y, isn’t it? Didn’t even include a cut so you could more easily scroll past my face. Inconsiderate, is what that is.

Most awesome 2019 memory: This one is pretty good. Right now.

2020:

???

Profit.

#all right the 2010s were weird #random forest ramblings about my life i guess #here you go

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