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wincore · 3 years

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field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan.

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly.

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that.

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you.

You shake it off.

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer.

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks.

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates.

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue.

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile.

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes.

“Sungchan?!”

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!”

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face.

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity.

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I’ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.”

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns.

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on.

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention.

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys.

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes.

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling.

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love.

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile.

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation.

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on.

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones.

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts.

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you.

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm.

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes.

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls.

"Do you have any bandaids?"

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.”

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you.

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind.

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers.

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans.

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him.

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade.

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan.

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead.

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly.

“Hm?”

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that.

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field.

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding.

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave.

“You should,” he responds, honest.

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile.

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties.

Only one more match, you remind yourself.

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this.

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all.

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile.

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty.

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you.

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading.

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care.

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk.

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild.

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct x reader #sungchan x reader #nct fluff #sungchan fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #sungchan imagines #sungchan scenarios #nct x you #sungchan x you #nct sungchan #jung sungchan #nct oneshot #sungchan oneshot #nct fanfic #sungchan fanfic #moonwrites

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

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Cutie Pie (Christen x Reader)

Request: christen x reader one? Maybe where the reader has a child (1-2 years old) and the Team doesn't know. Reader and her child are at a game right behind the bench and the kid accidentally drops his paci down to the bench and the teammates there interact with them without knowing that it's christens girl? Reader also is really tall and fit and a tomboy!

“Alright half-pint, you ready for this?” You asked the little girl in your arms, bouncing her just a touch as you stepped through the stadium gates.

“Yeah, Mama!!!” She cheered around her pacifier, staring around the stadium in awe and wiggling excitedly.

You were happy that she loved coming to games so much, as they were kinda a big part of your life. You weren’t quite sure what you would do if she didn’t. She was your soul and a certain soccer player had your heart, and you were glad that you didn’t have to choose between the two.

You smiled indulgently down at her and kissed her slightly chubby cheeks. “I’m glad baby,”

She wiggled again, her little bounces getting more and more wild with every step you took in the stadium. You hadn’t really planned on having Riley, but now you couldn’t imagine your life without her and her wonder at everything around the two of you.

“Chris?” She asked as you passed a giant poster of the national team, pointing towards where your favorite forward’s blinding smile was blown up 100 times its normal size.

You would be forever grateful for how amazing your girlfriend was with your daughter.

She came into your life nearly a year and a half ago, and you had been extremely reluctant to introduce her to your 6 month old (You didn’t want either of them to get attached before you knew it would work out), but Christen took the role of parent very seriously. She treated your little girl like she was her own, and the two had an unbearable bond. You knew that even if things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to, Riley would always have a friend in the forward.

“You bet. I’m sure she’s super excited to see you!” You said, glancing down at your ticket to and looking for the right section, navigating through the crowd without issue (something you were used to considering how private you and Chris were about your relationship, the only person on the team who knew about you was Tobin).

“She score?” Riley questioned, her pacifier bobbing adorably in her mouth and her little eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m sure she will, just for you kiddo,” You smiled, blowing a raspberry into the little girl's neck, and earning a giggle. “Now, do you think you can help me count the rows so we can get to our seats?” You asked as you passed under the sign with your section number and the pitch came into view.

Riley nodded, puffing her little chest up. She may only be 2, but you and Christen had been working hard on her colors and numbers. She still needed help, but she was super smart for her age.

“Alrighty then baby, let’s go,”

*****

The team wasn’t usually this distracted. They were a group of highly competitive women who were at the top of their game, which meant that they could usually block out all of the noise from the stadium, even if it was just warmup. However, the cutest kid they had ever seen was sitting just behind the bench, being held by a very attractive lady.

“Oh my gosh, have you seen the little girl?” Kelley asked, slinging an arm around Christen and Tobin’s shoulders, nodding towards the toddler in the stands.

A gooey smile (something that didn’t go unnoticed by Tobin) broke across Christen’s face the second she saw her two favorite people. She noted how you had dressed the little one in the jersey she had gotten her for Christmas, a bold 23 visible every time she flashed her back towards the field. There was just something about having a part of herself visible (something tangible) on the girl she thought of as a daughter. “Yes, she’s absolutely adorable in that jersey,”

She wiggled her fingers at the little girl who squealed excitedly and waved back. Her mom wrapped a protective arm around her belly to prevent her from accidentally wiggling under the guardrail.

“Too bad it’s got Press’ number on it” Megan laughed, wrapping her arm around Christen’s other side, nudging the woman’s ribs. Christen rolled her eyes and shot the little girl another little wave, giggling when she bounced wildly in her mother’s arms (Christen might have also greatly appreciated the way the girl's reaction forced you to flex to prevent her from falling).

“And her mom doesn’t look too bad either,” Ashlyn added, wiggling her eyebrows.

The woman behind the little girl was tall, and the black ink that swirled up her arms only served to make her muscles more visible (Christen would call her drool-worthy after she finally told the team she was dating her).

“You’re married, remember?” Ali grumbled, slapping her wife in the stomach.

“Yeah, but If I wasn’t…” Ashlyn shrugged, cackling when Ali hit her harder. Christen frowned, suppressing a sneer. You were hers, even if the team didn’t know yet.

Tobin smirked, gently grabbing her training outfit to prevent her from moving forward. “Come on, you can go flirt later. We have to get changed for the game,” She laughed towards Ashlyn, subtly pulling Christen towards the tunnel.

The rest of the group laughed and followed after them. There would be plenty of time to say hi to the small child later after they had won.

The forwards still sent another small wave towards the toddler clearly frowning now that her favorite person was walking away (she also may have winked your way just for kicks).

*****

You could tell that Riley was having a blast. Her little hands wrapped around the bars of the railing so she could be as close to the action as possible. She waved to every player as they passed her (no matter how many times they did) and giggled exuberantly every time they waved back.

It seemed that the team on the bench was far more interested in making your little girl laugh than watching the game (and you could only imagine how it would be when they finally realized that one of their teammates was basically her second mom).

“Babe, you gotta stay a little away from the edge alright?” You said softly, tapping her shoulder when her little head went just a little too far through the bars.

She definitely had your tendency to get in over her head. She ignored you, too enamored by Christen darting down the field, and shooting the ball. It sailed right past the goalie’s hands and before you could grab your little one she was leaping up and down, head still through the bars screaming “Goal!!” as loud as she could around the pacifier. But her enthusiasm caused the small object to fall out of her mouth.

“Uh oh,” Riley said, turning to you, her bottom lip trembling.

You scooped her up, and she immediately nuzzled into your neck. “It’s ok babydoll,” you murmured into her hair, bouncing her and looking over the railing.

You leaned over the side, only to see one Kelley O’Hara holding your daughter's pacifier and rubbing her head. “Lose something?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you.

“Sorry, she got a little excited,” You said blushing a little bit. A little smirk graced Kelley’s lips you looked absolutely adorable with some red in your cheeks and paired with the backward cap it made you practically irresistible.

“Don’t we all when Pressy scores a goal?” Megan winked up at you, wiggling her fingers at your little girl when she peeked up from your shoulder.

“That’s fair, but she’s a very big fan,” You smiled, bouncing the little girl in your arms and blowing a raspberry just under her chin.

“Well in that case, why don’t you two come down on the field? You know, so we can return this?” Ashlyn asked, grabbing the pacifier out of Kelley’s hand and jingling it a little.

“What do you think babydoll?” You whispered into your daughter’s ear, as she was suddenly too shy to look at the soccer players who she had been interacting with not even minutes ago.

“Wanna go,” she mumbled into your neck, just loud enough for the girls on the ground to hear. Kelley smiled wildly. “Well, little miss speaks after all!”

“Come to the stairs and we’ll get security to let you down. The games about to be over anyway,” Megan said, pointing towards where a little stairway was located.

You nodded and headed in that direction, unaware of Christen’s furrowed eyebrows on the field.

*****

“Oh my gosh, that kid is freaking adorable,” Alex said, trotting up beside Christen just as the final whistle blew. Christen turned towards where Alex was looking, awing at the sight before her.

Riley was shyly standing behind you, clutching the back of your tank top so tightly that it was pulling down the collar (simultaneously showing off some of the swirling lines she knew spread across the skin of your shoulders).

She would peek out to get a glance at one of the soccer players vying for her attention, and then tuck back into you the second she realized they were looking at her.

“Isn’t she?” Christen smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. She might not be biologically related to your daughter, but she was 100% her other mom. She loved that little girl so much it hurt (even when her pigtails were crooked- you were great at a lot of things but hair certainly wasn’t one).

“Your gooey is showing,” Tobin said, nudging the forward. Christen opened her mouth to respond but was cut of by a very excited squeal.

“Chris!!!” It yelled, just before a little body collided with the forward’s legs. She quickly bent down to lift the little girl up, throwing her in the air before allowing her to settle on her hip. “Missed you,”

“I missed you too babydoll,” Christen said into your daughter’s hair, holding her tight. She absolutely loved her job, but one major downside was that she couldn’t take you and Riley with her all of the time. At least she had Tobin to keep her up to date most of the time since you lived in Portland, but there was absolutely nothing like holding her two favorite people in person.

“You better at hair and clothes,” Riley mumbled into her neck, pulling back just a bit to wave her hand around her head. You tried. You really did, but there was a reason you always kept your hair short. You weren’t into bows and frilly things, but your little girl absolutely loved them. So you did your best and were very grateful that Christen was so good with that kind of stuff.

Christen threw her head back and laughed “I know baby,”. She rubbed Riley’s belly “Did you enjoy the game?”

“Yeah, you score goal for me and mama,” Riley cheered and kicked her leg as if recreating the goal. Christen laughed again and began walking in your direction. “That’s right. I scored just for my favorite girls,”

“Hey I scored too you know, and I want some baby bear hugs,” Tobin said, appearing over Christen’s shoulder.

Riley wiggled wildly in Christen’s arms, practically throwing herself at her favorite aunt. “Aunt Toby!!” She yelled as Tobin dramatically spun her in circles.

Christen watched the two with a wide smile, only looking away when she felt a presence beside her.

“Hey superstar, you looked amazing out there,” your smile was evident in your voice as you wrapped your arms around Christen’s waist from behind, kissing her ear and resting your head on her shoulder.

She signed happily and leaned back into you for a second, before spinning in your arms. “Hey darling,” she said, leaning up and placing a kiss on your lips.

“Wait, you know Christen?” A voice appeared very close to you, and you reluctantly pulled away from your girlfriend to look at one Kelley o’hara’s wide eyes.

“Well she’s my girlfriend, so yeah,” Christen shrugged, leaning up to kiss you again.

You hear Kelley and several other team members sputter, but you were far too preoccupied to actually care. That was until a little voice joined the mix.

You pulled away when you heard little feet approaching you, squatting down to catch your very excited little girl. You stood with her in your arms, unable to stop you smile when Christen wrapped her arms around the two of you.

“Yes baby?” Christen asked, running a hand down your daughters back to try and settle her excited wiggiling just a little.

“Mama, mommy, we go eat with aunt Toby?” Riley asked. And Christen’s sent her an indulgent smile blinking back tears (you were happy that Tobin was so accepting and great with your babygirl). Sure Christen might not have been biologically related to her, but Riley was 100% hers.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #christen press imagine #christen press x reader

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juniorgman187 · 4 years

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Serendipity (Reid Fic) Part 1

A/N: If you’re wondering if this is at all based on Rosie and Marco’s storyline in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” then you should know - it totally is.

Summary: An FBI gathering brings Reader and Spencer together after years of distance. This one night changes not only their future, but their perspective on the past. Category: Angst, Smut, *NSFW content Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Mentions of traumatic childhood, child neglect, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, menstruation, pregnancy Word Count: 10.2k

I originally thought I would be able to fit everything into 1 part, but after further reconsideration, this will be a two part series.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Serendipity: (n). Finding something good without looking for it.

A word I would only come to truly understand many months from now on a warm Thursday morning in May at St. Mary’s Hospital.

But whenever my thoughts drifted back towards the past, I would always remember that this was how it all began - on a chilly Saturday night in the heart of D.C.

Not more than four hours ago, Emilia and I drove down here for an F.B.I function that hired us. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t have agreed to be the caterers for an event so far away, but we eventually signed on after learning that there were at least 600 people attending. That meant a considerable amount of customers and an exorbitant amount of money. Saying yes was clearly a no brainer.

Just to put it into perspective of how big this event would be, Emilia and I got lucky if we could park somewhere with 80 customers. 80. So this event would be colossal for us.

But who would have guessed that in a crowd of 600, I would run into the one and only - Spencer Reid.

To preface, this wasn’t just any old birthday party, parade, or festival. It was a celebration and a grand one at that. Considering it was a private event at the Washington Monument, we were given special instructions to abide by the black-tie formal dress code that guests had to follow, too. I guess the caterers can’t look like slobs in the United States’ Capitol, now can they?

I definitely spent more time than I should have deciding on what outfit to wear, but my conscientiousness, or rather indecisiveness, did pay off in the end. For I would run into someone worth the trouble of impressing.

My hair, unlike Emilia’s, was down and curled in big waves, and on one side, some of my hair was tucked behind my ear and designed to stay that way thanks to copious amounts of hairspray and an ungodly total of bobby pins. Emilia lent me a black, floor-length dress that had a plunging v-neck that didn’t fit her anymore, but luckily, fit perfectly on me. Although I would have to remember not to lean over too far tonight, otherwise, the customers might get a show they didn’t pay for. I, however, didn’t look half so good as my business partner.

Emilia was clad in a navy blue silk dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar; the dress clung to her every curve, including her newly protruding belly bump. She looked regal and pregnant all at the same time, qualities I hadn’t seen coexist in anyone but the Queens and Duchesses in England.

“Well, don’t you look hot?” Emilia purred, running her fingers through my curls, then letting them fall and sway back into place.

“Are you kidding? You are quite literally a sexy mama.” I gushed to her, receiving a light chuckle in return.

“Yeah, well, when you’re five months pregnant, tell me how sexy you feel in a tight dress.” She remarked, turning her back to me while she arranged all the supplies in the kitchenette behind me. But even as she faced away from me, she still managed to recognize the effect her words had. Maybe it was something in my silence, or our sister-telepathy, but Emilia immediately felt the room depress. In an effort to take back the remark that turned the room cold, she sweetly added while hugging me from behind, “You’re gonna be a mom one day, too. I promise.”

I leaned into her embrace, feeling guilty for ruining the moment while also feeling burdened by the reminder of the terrible reality I had to face every day.

Ever since I could remember, I thought I was destined to be a mother, but that destiny had yet to be fulfilled.

Emilia was born only three years after me, and though that age gap isn’t big enough for me to be mistaken for her mother, I, she, and our younger brother Saul would all agree that in many ways I was their mom. I was the parent our parents never were. I was there for everything - soccer games, dance recitals, winter musicals - never getting the chance to participate in my own, but always attending their’s.

I had to admit sometimes it was a burden, having to grow up so fast and help raise my siblings while still trying to navigate through my own struggles of adolescence, but I saw it as something I was meant to do.

See, I wouldn’t have minded all the responsibilities of being a parent so much when it’d be my own kids that I’d be fulfilling them for - when it would be by my choice to fulfill those responsibilities and not by unfortunate birth order.

However, as the years have gone by, my calling to be a mother has gotten quieter and quieter and quieter until eventually, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear it anymore.

It’s not that I can’t have kids, but the fear of rushing into having one is what’s stopped me from pursuing that dream.

As someone who grew up with divorced parents and practically became my siblings only reliable caregiver, I knew what having a baby too soon could do to a family. So rather than repeating history, I chose to wait to have kids. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did, and so I lived my life. I traveled all across the globe, I met new people, tried new things, I even started this taco truck business with Emilia.

But still that gaping hole in my chest remained. A hole that nothing could ever fill the way that a child would.

No amount of living could make up for the emptiness of a life with no family.

I could pretend all I wanted that I was happy living out my twenties, but the truth was I didn’t want to spend the rest of my years working in a food truck, amounting to nothing more than a mediocre cook and middling entrepreneur. That was never my dream - as exciting as it was.

My real dream was to have a good life. The kind my parents never had thanks to the unplanned arrival of me. The kind my baby sister was already living out.

“You know what? It’s a really nice night out. I think I might go for a walk. Do you wanna come?” Was this my blatant avoidance of breaching the subject of pregnancy? Yes, but it was also my escape from this food truck that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller and smaller by the second.

“No, I’m okay. I’ll just get everything ready.” Emilia resigned.

She knew why I was really leaving - sister-telepathy, I’m telling you - but she didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. For that, I was thankful. Maybe we were better at communicating with no words at all.

I carefully stepped off the back of the truck, making sure to hike up my dress high enough so I wouldn’t trip over the mess of fabric when my feet hit the floor. The nippy December air felt like a cool balm on my hot skin. I was burning up in that truck, and maybe it was nerves or something else, but I just had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was no explanation for it, but I realize now that the pit in my stomach was caused by something my intuition could sense but something my mind couldn’t understand.

Someone important from my past was here tonight.

As I sauntered around the monument, I took in the breathtaking view of the structure’s silhouette against the blazing orange sky that melted into an ocean blue. I regretted not bringing my phone to take a picture of it so I could show Emilia when I got back, but that one regret quickly turned into another when the night sky’s breeze brought a rude awakening. My body shivered at the frigid gust of wind that blew through and I suddenly started to regret not bringing a jacket.

“Are you cold?” A gentle voice asked me from behind.

I slightly recoiled out of shock of someone being there. When I turned around though, I couldn’t quite make out any distinguishable features. All I knew for sure was that this was certainly a man, and a tall one, too.

“Um, just a little.” I bashfully admitted, crossing my arms to hug myself and maintain some warmth. I hadn’t even thought about my dress’s plunging v-neck or the fact that I was practically squeezing my breasts together, accentuating them even further, but by the time, I realized, it was too late. He was already looking. But not at my chest. Somewhere far more invasive.

My eyes.

“Here, take my jacket.”

My small protests did nothing to stop him as he inevitably slipped the coat around my shoulders anyway. He’d come so close that I could finally see him and smell him. And let me tell you, if the sight of him wasn’t enough to break an overflowing dam of memories, then his smell certainly sent a flood that would.

“Oh my god,” I quietly gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to cover its un-ladylike gaping.

“Spencer Reid?”

I squinted my eyes and cocked my head even further to find evidence to support my assumption, and sure enough, I found exactly what I was looking for.

I was frozen in place as I deeply examined his face. My God! I mean, in many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. Same dazzling hazel eyes. Same uniquely adorable nose. Same over-stimulated pink lips. I wonder if he still bit them as much as he did back then?

But at the same time, he was so different. Of course, I could still discern the same features I used to study endlessly back then, but his face had transformed into a man’s. He lost the glasses for one thing, but he also had a softer jawline, longer hair, and for lack of a better term, a beefier build.

He was all grown up now, and yet, I could still identify the same boyishly handsome charm that made me fall in love with him more than a decade ago.

“I knew it was you, (y/n).” He chuckled, sounding half proud of himself. My heart fluttered at the sound of my name on his tongue and the action that followed. With his eyes locked on mine, he tucked strands of my hair back behind my ears; it’s as if he were saying, “Let me get a good look at you.”

“How? It’s almost completely dark outside. You could barely even see me.” Certainly, you can understand why I was skeptical. Sounded too good to be true, if you ask me.

He shook his head lightly with a smile, seemingly questioning how I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. “No one else looks like you. Not even in the dark.”

His words spoke to a part of my soul specifically reserved for him. They were so genuine that I almost didn’t want to believe them because how could someone speak such lovely things and truly mean them? The world wasn’t that good a place. Certainly not good enough for Spencer Reid.

In that moment, I flew out of my own body and watched this entire scene unfold from up above. I could see the version of a girl I hadn’t seen in years, not since that last interaction with Spencer. She had these big lovesick eyes as she swooned over a man with just the same lovesick look.

The excessive upward tilt of my head and the way his neck craning down must’ve made it seem like we were about to kiss, but I knew better than to expect such a thing from Spencer Reid. And if anything, what we were doing right now was much more intimate than kissing.

“Wow, you ... you really grew up. You look great.” My own voice sounded unfamiliar to me after the words slipped from my mouth without even registering in my brain first.

“Are you kidding? Look at you! I mean, you are just ...” He paused for a moment to look me up and down, and I nearly shivered at the thought that he was practically undressing me with his eyes. “You’re absolutely beautiful. But you always were.”

I was almost completely in a daze when I heard a hideous squawk of a bird flying overhead. This wouldn’t make sense, but it nearly felt like a sign. Like the bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, reminding me of where I belonged - reality - not in this fantasy with Spencer.

“Um,” My head spun as I drew back from him. “I should probably get back. I’ll see you later.” I touched his upper arm gently as I passed by him, and it stunned me how warmth just radiated off of his body.

To my all too quick goodbye, he simply waved and watched me walk past him with a pursed-lip smile. And just before I got too far, I thought I heard him say, “I hope so.”

Though my feet were carrying me away from Spencer, my thoughts were only drifting closer to the memory of him, and we did have so many memories.

11 Years Ago ...

I was at the ripe age of 16 when I got my driver’s license. And to anyone else, this would seem like a given milestone, but to me - it was so much more. With the obtainment of my license, I also gained access to a whole new world. Opportunities poured at the seams. I could drive anyone and anywhere I wanted to and though it wasn’t true, it felt like I could do anything, too. But like all things good in my life, it fell apart in the face of responsibilities.

My newly obtained license was just another way for my parents to exploit me. Now, they didn’t have to drive Emilia and Saul since I could. Looking back, I have to wonder if the only reason they funded my driver’s ed classes were for the exact reason that if I took them, I’d sooner be able to take on yet another helping of duties they were too lazy to fulfill.

There’s one particular moment I can remember from this age and that same moment could also be regarded as the catalyst that would set off a series of events for the next 11 years to come.

It was the end of the school year and summer vacation was right around the corner. I was a sophomore at the time, and the prospect of being a junior the next year excited me.

To kick off the start of summer, Melody Hanes was throwing a pool party at her house. Everyone knew she was filthy rich because of a dead grandpa or some other, not to mention, she was also in student government so she had just as big of a role in school as her grandpa’s death did in making the Hanes family wealthy.

Though I never knew her personally, I did have third period chemistry with her for the entire year, and I sat right in front of her for pretty much the entirety of second semester. She must’ve only addressed me a handful of times, but she still invited me to her party anyway. Proximity, I had to admit, did play a part in that though because if I sat just a seat farther away, then I wouldn’t have been.

I came home that day, thrilled to tell my mother about my invitation. It would’ve been my first party that wasn’t a distant relative’s birthday celebration or a childish sleepover in elementary. It was my first real high school party, and for once, I thought - maybe I’d finally get the quintessential ‘high school experience.’

But of course, I never did.

As soon as I got home, I parked my car in the driveway, got the mail, and came inside the house to see my mother sitting on the couch watching TV, as per usual. While I was telling her about my invitation, she didn’t bother to lower the volume or even look away from the screen to give me her undivided attention, and when she did look away, it was only to take the mail from my hands.

“Your sister’s science fair is on that day, and you have to take her because I’ll be working from 1 to 7.” My mother never once looked up from the mail she was sorting through to address me. And her words, while incredibly monotone, were also spoken with such finality, like what she said was the last she ever wanted to speak on the topic. No room for discussion.

I’m not still losing sleep over it, but at the time, it felt like for once, I could actually just be a teenager and be young and reckless like everyone else, but that it was just taken from me. I never got the chance to be a kid again.

With the exception of Emilia’s science fair.

I knew my father wouldn’t be there, and obviously my mother wouldn’t, so I stayed to watch her presentation and to walk around the rest of the time. She deserved someone in her corner, and that someone was me. Even if no one was in mine.

As I serpentined through the cafeteria, a bittersweet feeling came upon me. From paper mâché volcanoes to potato batteries, I observed a childlike sense of wonder that I hadn’t felt for years.

Here, I was surrounded by children who got to be just children. They got to occupy themselves with trivial matters, like how gardens grow or if video games actually do rot your brain.

Their problems had solutions and their questions had answers, and it almost made me wish that I could revert back to a time where life was that easy, but I couldn’t because it never was … not for me.

So to sum it up, it was precious and heartbreaking all at the same time.

While browsing the fair, I stumbled upon a man that didn’t quite seem to fit in, and maybe it was my own unfitting appearance that made me recognize his. He could’ve very well been the brother of one of these children, but something about the way he was dressed and the way he carried himself made me highly doubt that.

He couldn’t have been a parent either, for he was not too far off from my own age, and if he was a parent of one of these eighth graders, that would have to mean that he had a kid when he was in kindergarten. So for all intents and purposes, he wasn’t someone’s brother or someone’s father. Who he actually was - I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.

After that first observance, I spotted him a couple more times, but it wasn’t until we were looking at the same project that we actually spoke.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The sudden sound of his voice alarmed me, but only because it seemingly came out of nowhere. Generally, before someone speaks to you, you notice signals that they’re about to, which helps you prepare for conversation. Whether it’s nervous twitches, a look in your direction, maybe even a small acknowledging smile, you’ll recognize they want to or plan to talk to you, but none of those signs were given to me. Even when I turned my head to give him my attention, he was still fixated on the project in front of us.

“Yeah, it really is,” I politely agreed. I awkwardly looked around the room as if I’d find an answer as to what to say next because I did want to keep talking to him, but the longer I stayed silent, the more I fear he’d begin to think I didn’t want to. With nothing else to ask but the question that had been bothering me since I first laid eyes on him, I simply went for it.

“So, who are you here for?”

For the first time, he turned his head to the side to look right at me. With a quizzical expression, he responded. “Oh, no one. I’m just a judge here.”

It was my turn to possess a quizzical expression. His statement wouldn’t have been weird, except for the part where any judge I’d seen or talked to were all well into their forties or fifties.

“Aren’t you kinda young to be a judge? You’re, like, what? Seventeen, eighteen?

“Nineteen actually. But I regularly come to judge the Summer Science Fairs here since I went to this middle school eleven years ago.”

Again, I would’ve taken his word for it, but the math didn’t make sense. “You were in middle school at eight years old?”

“Mhm. I ended up graduating high school at twelve.” He said it so nonchalantly, but for how big of a feat it was, I thought it would’ve deserved a more prideful tone, yet he still maintained such a cavalier one. Did he not think himself to be impressive?

“Jeez, you must be really smart.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, which made me notice that he wasn’t carrying a clipboard like the other judges, which was probably another reason why I didn’t take him for one. How would he be able to remember the projects that he was considering for awards? He’d have to have some magical memory for that.

Before answering, he began to walk away, but nonetheless he continued addressing me, so I followed him where he went.

“Mmm not necessarily. My IQ isn’t high enough to suggest I’m a provable genius yet, but I do have an eidetic memory and I can currently read 16,000 words per minute, which definitely helps. I hope to be able to read 20,000 words per minute in the future.”

Despite answering my question, he only left me with many more.

“What is your IQ right now?”

“131.”

My eyes widened. Even I, with my limited knowledge on intelligence quotients knew that was high, especially for someone as young as he was.

“So what IQ score do you have to have in order to be considered a genius?”

I couldn’t help but notice how he barely took anytime to think before answering me. It’s like his brain just knew everything, right then and there.

“A score of over 140 is considered a genius or near genius.”

“Wow, so you’re almost a genius then?”

“Almost, but not quite. If I receive diverse stimulation at a consistent rate for the next few years, I predict that I’ll have an IQ of 180 or higher by the time I’m in my early twenties.”

You would think he would leave me speechless, but I still went on to ask him about what an eidetic memory was, and he explained to me that he could remember things exceedingly well, but that it was not the same thing as a photographic memory. He made that distinction very clear to me.

Our conversation droned on for the rest of the fair as we continued to circle the cafeteria. I can’t count how many times we lapped around the same projects, but we never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Once those first few seconds after meeting him, when I didn’t know what to say, passed, I never again felt a sense of not knowing. We could talk for hours and hours, and it wouldn’t matter. I would never get bored.

How could I? When I was with him, it felt like the rest of the world just faded away. Our discourse flowed so easily, no pressure, no awkward silence. It was just me and him, and if you ask me, that’s quite the opposite of boring.

That was the first and final time I ever truly felt like a kid. Just like the ones in the science fair. Not a care in the world except for my morbid curiosity of the marvel that was him.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and I inevitably found myself being ripped out of my trance when I felt an aggressive tug on my sweater.

“We can go now.” Emilia interrupted.

I hadn’t even noticed that a majority of the poster boards were taken down and that an even larger majority of the people were long gone, too. I got so lost in the conversation that I didn’t realize we were one of the last people still there.

Emilia’s eagerness to leave was apparent as she pulled me away from my interesting conversationalist.

“I had a nice time talking to you!” I called out to him, walking backwards to lengthen the period of time I could keep looking at him.

“Likewise.”

I turned around fully just before I finally realized something. “Hey!” I yelled across the distance. “I never got your name!”

He bashfully smiled and looked down at his feet briefly. “It’s Spencer! Spencer Reid!”

I stood there for a moment, silently processing his name.

“What’s yours?” He yelled back.

I chuckled mischievously. “I guess you’ll have to find out next time.” My ambiguity puzzled him and intrigued him all at the same time.

“Next time?”

With the intentions of leaving him without a true answer, I simply turned on my heels and started walking away.

“Bye, Spencer!”

Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory, I knew after that first day, he could never forget me.

- Present Time -

By the time I made it back to the truck, people were already lining up to order.

“Get over here!” Emilia squealed excitedly from the window, her hand rapidly waving me over as if it’d suddenly increase my speed. I ran back as fast as I could in a dress and heels and climbed into the truck, mirroring my sister’s zeal.

When I stepped in, Emilia took one glance at me and furrowed her brows. “Where’d you get the jacket?”

Had she not mentioned it, I would not have remembered the foreign fabric that wrapped around my shoulders.

“Oh, shoot!” I palmed my forehead after the realization dawned on me. I should’ve noticed sooner that I still had it on, but honestly, it didn’t feel unusual or out of place. It was comfortable and familiar, like it was meant to be there that entire time.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, but do you think you can handle this alone for just a second? I have to return this to a friend.” I asked while slipping off the coat to ready myself to leave, even in the event that Emilia said she wouldn’t let me go. Luckily though, she understood it was urgent.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurry back.”

I extended my head to look out just past the side of the truck to look for Spencer while still being concealed within the vehicle. Now that there were more people here, I wasn’t exactly sure I should be caught mingling with the attendees, so instead, I decided to search for him from the truck, rather than wandering around the party, giving the impression to the people that hired us that I wasn’t doing my job and was just here to socialize.

Luckily, there was something about my attachment to Spencer that was supernatural. I had this metaphysical ability to spot him even in a crowded place. I could find him anywhere. But whether that was a blessing or a curse was to be determined because right as my paranormal power kicked in, I found him. And there he was - standing next to another girl, a proximity much too close and a smile much too big to be anything less than flirtatious.

I paused to recall the image I had of myself earlier, when I floated up and out of my own body. I looked just like her - an oversized grin combined with lovesick eyes.

But that’s not the worst part.

The worst part was he was returning just the same look of attraction to her.

“Um, actually,” I re-entered the truck completely, tossing the jacket aside haphazardly. “I’ll just return it later.”

“You sure? You can go. I’ve got things covered right now.” She said between multitasking at a rate that even I, a very-much-not-pregnant-woman, could manage.

All I could mutter back without giving away the sharp ache in my heart was, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

_ _ _

After hours and hours of non-stop working, the night, at last, was coming to a close. The large crowd had sized down considerably, until I could no longer hear the sound of a thousand voices meshing. All the decorations were already coming down by the time Emilia and I finished packing up the truck. Without the hectic energy to cause adrenaline to course through my veins, it should’ve been peaceful, yet my heart was not at peace.

I couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling of seeing Spencer with that girl, but that wasn’t really why I was upset. It was more about the fact that I’d actually believed for a second that I had any chance with him. I should’ve known he wasn’t single, and the fact that I let myself swoon over him again angered me all the more. If I ever had a chance with Spencer, the time to act on it was long gone.

Now, I had to live with that.

“You sure you wanna stay here alone? I’ll come with you if you want me to.”

Emilia’s question was referring to my proposal to stay in D.C for the night while she drove home. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I realized I couldn’t handle being in another suffocating car ride with Emilia. It had nothing to do with her - just that I needed alone time to process everything by myself. If I knew my sister as well as I thought I did, I knew she would’ve sensed something was wrong and tried to coax me into talking about it, which I was not in the mood to do. Plus, traveling for so long made me nauseous just thinking about it. Although, I didn’t have a plan, I knew that I just wanted to hail a cab and find a hotel somewhere here for the night.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Call me when you get home.” I tapped on the back of the truck twice to let her know she was good to drive away, and I felt the car lurch forward per my request. When the truck finally did move, out from behind it appeared the tall figure of none other than Spencer.

I was surprised, but only for a second, when that surprise turned into pain once more. Playing it cool so my afflictions wouldn’t be suspected, I nonchalantly stated, “Here’s your jacket, by the way. Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you earlier.”

I extended my arm far enough so that we’d still have a great distance between us when he went to grab it, but sure enough, my actions were all for naught when he not only refused to remove his hands from his pockets to take it but also walked two steps closer to me than he needed to be. I looked like an idiot just standing there with my arm so outstretched, only for him to not grab it and to let it simply press against his stomach as a complete avoidance of getting it back.

“You were supposed to keep it. That’s why I didn’t ask for it back.” He curtly replied, finishing his statements with a cheeky grin. However, I wasn’t in the mood to return it. I simply stood there and shook the jacket in my hand to emphasize its presence.

“Take it. Please.” My voice was full of contradictions. I tried to be assertive with my command, and yet my plead only softened the order and showed a defeat I wasn’t even aware of until I heard how sad it sounded. “I don’t want it, Spencer.”

He no doubt saw the shift in my demeanor but still wouldn’t pacify me by taking the jacket. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” His voice got quieter, as if speaking any louder would shatter me in this fragile state of being.

“Nothing, I’m just tired and I want to go home.” This wasn’t a complete lie. I was exhausted from working for hours and hours on my feet with no breaks in between, but it wasn’t exactly the full truth either. He could tell.

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He persisted. “Please.”

The only way I could describe what I happened next was like the vision of a boiling pot. Gradually, I was heating up until I finally got so overheated that I just boiled over and exploded.

“What don’t you get, Spencer? I don’t want your jacket!” Fury consumed my tone. “And I don’t think your girlfriend would want that either.”

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!” His words were flying out of his mouth at 100 mph as he desperately trying to mend what couldn’t be fixed.

“Don’t play dumb. I saw you with that blonde girl. How close you two were standing, the way you were looking at each other.” Just having to recount the interaction made the horrid memory come back vividly into the forefront of my thoughts, and it broke my heart all over again. I shut my eyes painfully as though it would turn off the image of them together, but this only allowed for Spencer to wrap his warm hands around my upper arms and pull me closer to him without my knowing. I flinched unconsciously at the sudden feeling of his touch, to which he instantly let go.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His hands shook with remorse for letting them touch my body in a way that elicited that reaction. They hovered in the space between us, not knowing where to go that would suddenly make things okay. “But she’s no one, okay? She’s just a coworker.”

I wanted to believe him. I quite possibly did believe him, but there was still a sharp pain in my chest. Call it intuition.

“No, she’s not,” I shook my head. “She’s not ‘no one’... you love her.”

Spencer came closer but still didn’t let himself touch me again out of fear that I might draw back even further.

“Listen to me - whatever feelings I used to have for her are long gone. She’s married, (y/n). She has a kid. And none of that even matters because the way that I used to love her is nothing compared to the way that I-”

“Don’t.” I held my hand up in protest. “Don’t say you love me.”

His eyebrows knit together with dismay. “Why? Why not? It’s true. I love you. I always have.”

With one big sigh, I finally resigned to my emotions. “Then why didn’t you ever do something about it?”

Judging by the deflation of his shoulders and the far off look he got in his eyes, he knew exactly the moment I was talking about.

Two days after Emilia’s science fair, I drove to the library to pick up books I needed for my summer homework. I was already on my way out when I just happened to glance to my side, noticing a lone figure sitting at the bus stop. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I looked back, I partially recognized him. I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted harder to confirm my suspicions.

“Spencer?” I wondered out loud.

The figure’s head turned around, narrowed their eyes, and waved. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to me with a precious little jog-walk. Although we had only met once before, we still embraced each other like lifelong friends.

“Do I finally get to know your name now?” He jokingly inquired after pulling away.

It completely slipped my mind that I’d denied him the knowledge of my name, but for my own satisfaction, I wouldn’t let him get off that easily.

“Do you have any guesses of it could be?”

He pouted childishly. “Are you kidding? In a population of 350 million people, there would be about 4.4 million names. But if every country on Earth had the same nominative diversity we in the US have, that would suggest about 750 million unique names exist.”

I must admit it was fun watching him melt into a flustered mess of facts, but I was growing just as impatient as him. “Come on, just guess. You might be right.”

He rolled his eyes but indulged me willingly anyway. “Okay ... um ... Catherine.”

“Nope.”

“Nicole.”

“Nope.”

“Gertrude.”

“Seriously?” I raised my eyebrows. He shrugged. “Nope.”

“Olive.”

“Pretty,” I smiled, making his face light up, too. “But no.” His smile fell.

“This is nearly impossible.” He sighed.

“Nothing’s impossible.” My delivery wasn’t as cheesy as the line itself, so it touched us both in a way that made that silly phrase feel like it’d never been said before. With a visible passion reignited in him, he continued.

“Francis.”

“Okay, maybe this is impossible.”

My blunt joke brought us closer together, our heads almost knocking into one another’s as we clutched our stomachs and leaned forward to support our all-consuming laughter. When we finally calmed down, I finally confessed.

“Okay, okay - it’s (y/n).”

He stood there completely silent. There was no expression of his face that indicated he planned on speaking, so I elaborated. “It’s not as good as the name Spencer, I know I know -”

“I’ve never known anyone with that name before.” His hushed voice cut into mine so innocently.

My cheeks heated from the slight compliment. “Well, now you do. And don’t you forget it.” I teased. With nothing further to say, I brushed past him to start walking away, when unconsciously, I spun my keys around my index finger and heard the familiar jingle of the metal, reminding me of something.

“Hey, Spencer?” I turned on my heels. “Can I give you a ride home?”

And so began our routine for the entire summer. I would bring my summer homework to the library, and Spencer would help me understand it, or even complete it, and then I’d give him a ride home. We’d go to the park and read, or we’d go to the movies, or we’d hang out at a diner. And each time, I’d drop him off.

The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him and his life. He told me about his mom, his dad - everything. I did just the same. I told him about my mom, my dad, my siblings - everything.

Perhaps we enjoyed spending so much time together because it was a sweet escape from our houses that weren’t homes. But every time we did hang out, we just got closer and closer, and by the end of the summer, I knew my feelings perfectly clear.

I love Spencer.

If missing that pool party at Melody Hanes was what it took to find the absolute love of my life, then what a small price to pay it was. I wouldn’t have traded a million pool parties for that one chance encounter with Spencer at the science fair.

One day, we were pulling into his driveway after having a picnic at the country club, and I’d just let him out of the car, when unconsciously, I said, “Bye, Spence! Love you!”

He caught the words faster than I did. He looked like a deer in headlights, and it took me at least two seconds more to figure out why. That entire day I’d been thinking about saying it, but by the end, I decided it’d be better not to, and yet, it just came out anyway.

“You love me?”

There were two ways I could’ve answered. The first was to deny it and say that I only meant that I loved him like a friend. The second was to be brave and validate my unintentional confession.

In the heat of the moment, I chose the latter.

“Yes.” I nodded, smiling from my own courage. You only live once right?

In a cruel twist of fate, Spencer never tried to speak, and instead, ran to his front door.

“Spencer!” I yelled. “What are you-”

He gave me one last look over his shoulder before he opened the door and closed it right behind him. That was the last I ever saw him.

I learned, that day, that you do only live once.

But you can die over and over again.

From that point on, he’s lived in my mind as the one that never was.

Regret and shame manifested on Spencer’s face. “I never wanted to hurt you.” He dejectedly began. “But I was young and-and dumb and just ... so scared. God, I was so scared.” He finally looked up, if for no other reason than to gauge my reaction. “I liked you so much, but I, I just couldn’t open myself up to the possibility of being hurt by another person I loved.”

Much like my own life, Spencer’s was riddled with traumatic experiences. Except rather than being expected to take care of younger siblings, he had to take care of his mom. And having to be a parent to your own parent? That’s something I would never wish upon anyone else.

“I ... I get it.” It was a sweet surrender, my words. After years of pent-up aggression borne from humiliation, rejection, and deep sadness, I could finally understand. “But as selfish as it sounds, I wish your past hurt hadn’t gotten in the way of our potential happiness.”

He took each of my hands in his, encasing them with palms of warmth. “Then don’t let the same thing happen right now. Don’t let the stupid, broken teenager I was cloud your judgement of the man I am now. Let me prove to you that I’ve changed.”

I stood there silently, an eerie parallel to how Spencer reacted to my confession eleven years ago.

“When I saw you, it felt like a second chance. A second chance to do what I was too afraid to do back then. And I couldn’t let myself make the same mistake twice.” His eyes were piercing through my soul. Every word plucked at my heartstrings, until I could no longer keep up with the symphony they were playing.

There was the slightest hesitation behind it, but I did inch forward. And in no time at all, Spencer saw the movement and made his own.

His hands released mine and shot straight for my cheeks to cup them gently, while kissing me firmly. He wasn’t the same shy boy he was, and this kiss was only proof of that. The way his lips were moving so fervently made me weak at the knees. He was so desperate and needy, like even with our lips touching, he still wasn’t close enough to me. Unleashed upon me was years of yearning wrapped in prominent lust.

“I love you.” He blurted clumsily on my lips. I didn’t return the sentiment, but that wasn’t why he said it. He wanted to say it so I’d know, not so that I’d say it back.

“You should know,” I muttered between kisses. “I’m not leaving D.C. until tomorrow morning.”

The biggest smirk creeped onto his face. Bastard.

Once we’d exhausted all the things we could possibly do in public, we ran to the nearest cab we could find and exhausted all the things we could do in that, too.

It was already past midnight when we arrived at Spencer’s apartment, and though we should’ve been quiet so as not to disturb the neighbors, we were still breaking out into a fit of giggles like a bunch of teenagers sneaking around as we ran up the stairs. We hadn’t even made it past the doormat, before he seized my hips in his hands and spun me back towards him. Forcefully, he pressed me against the door while simultaneously unlocking it. That shut me up real good, lemme tell you.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he gave me a reprieve when he held me closer so as to stop pinning me against the door. In an effort to do the impossible, we stumbled through his apartment in a frenzy trying to undress each other while maintaining our bodily contact. With one giant tug of the zipper on my back, my dress fell to the ground. To his atonement, he left me in just a thong. Whereas he was much too overdressed in my opinion.

No sooner did I gracelessly unbutton his shirt than we ran into a plant against the wall. Our smiles practically ruined the kiss at the sound of the crash, but it remained nonetheless. I knew I was in for something, when Spencer paused to wait for me to unbuckle his belt. That was the first time we ever really stopped in place, but just as I anticipated, I was in for it.

When I finally freed his waist of the garment, he just as quickly placed his hand on the back of my thigh, and in one swift motion, hoisted me into the air high enough to allow my legs to wrap around his waist. My arms were loose around his neck and the feeling of his warm hands touching my bare skin sent a chill down my spine.

Due to Spencer’s essential hand placement on my body, I had to be the one to fumble with his bedroom’s doorknob until it finally gave way. Once more, we staggered through his room before he let our lips break apart to lightly toss me onto the bed. I giggled at the squeak of the bed, driving him visibly crazy.

He hastily unzipped his own dress pants, while I propped myself up on my elbows. When he met me on the bed, he hovered over me to the point of having to lay back down again just to see him clearly. He felt too far away so I drew him nearer by lacing my hand through his soft curls. I twirled one around my finger, which must’ve been too merciful for him to handle.

He placed his hand on the back of mine and slid it down to his cheek. He held my hand there for a moment, leaning into the skin of my palm prior to placing a chaste kiss on it.

He didn’t need to say it again for me to know what he was thinking.

I love you.

The anticipation was killing me and in the most impatient manner, I pulled him down to my level, mimicking his similar habit of face-grabbing during a kiss. I knew his hands would’ve flown to my face the way they did just minutes ago, but one was too preoccupied keeping himself up and the other was busy toying with the band of my thong. I shivered at the sensation of him slipping one finger under the material and letting it glide over my tender skin right above my heat.

“Spencer,” I mumbled in a kiss to bring his attention back to me. Although I was certainly interested to know the hidden talents of Spencer Reid and his fingers, I was restless. I’d been waiting years for this moment, and unlike most people, I didn’t want to wait another second. “I need you now.”

He pulled his head back so he could get a full view of my face to examine my sincerity. He wanted to know if I was sure, and my eyes told him such. He nodded in acknowledgement with such speed that I was sure he was craving this as much as I was.

Rather than looking at where our bodies were about to meet, I had to close my eyes so I could fully feel everything without any other sense taking that away from me. In a painfully slow manner, he lined himself up at my entrance. At first, he only lightly pushed in, and it was this slacken movement that made me cry out and grip his shoulders for stability.

He pushed further in until he was fully sheathed inside of me. There was a slight moment of regret for not letting him engage in foreplay before, but that quickly went away when the pain turned to pleasure. He gained more confidence in himself with each stroke, and I could feel it. The more powerfully he thrust, the more I felt myself tightening around him. The over simulation was a stark contrast from the stimulation I denied and so the sensation I was feeling was only heightened by the absence of it before. For that very reason, I knew I was already close. And maybe he knew it, too and just as sweet revenge, he decided to send me over the edge by pulling my leg over his shoulder to thrust into me a new angle. As I’m sure he predicted, I threw my head back as tears began to prick the corners of my eyes. He rode the ever exquisite border between pain and pleasure, and my tears were a manifestation of that. Not even a minute passed, before I tried to moan but pathetically failed, not even being able finish the pitiful wail without the both of us finishing together.

Our heavy panting synchronized and reverberated back to us while he slowed down his pace and pulled out.

Perhaps in the heat of the moment, we lost all logic and reason, considering that even up till now, neither of us had realized that he didn’t use a condom.

But what would eventually happen in the future as a result of this action, or inaction, would surely make us remember.

Spencer lowered himself down to kiss me breathlessly; strands of his hair clung to his forehead as sweat glimmered on both of us. Not until we were ready did we make our way to the bathroom so he could help clean me up. Once we returned, I gathered my clothes, but he made sure to grab my panties before I could even notice.

“Have you seen -“ I cut myself off when I saw what was dangling in his hands.

“Looking for this?” He teased.

All my energy had been spent on him that I couldn’t be bothered to fight for them back.

“Keep ‘em.” I smirked, my hand reaching down to pick up his jacket off the floor and hold it up. “Consider it a fair trade.”

No arguments from him.

Needless to say, I did end up finding a place to stay the night. Where and with whom you might ask?

Well, you can probably figure that one out for yourself.

_ _ _

I wish I could tell you I got a good night’s rest, and I could - it just wouldn’t be the truth.

Spencer and I spent the rest of the night just talking. We filled each other in on nearly ever second of the past 11 years, and once again, I found myself reverting back to the teenager I was at the science fair. The entire world revolved around us as we spoke to each other effortlessly, like no time had passed. Even in the periods of silence, I felt comfortable.

Spencer and I were lying on our sides facing one another when I felt compelled to profess that “I can’t talk this way with anyone. It’s just you.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a small smile on his lips. He didn’t need to say that he felt the same way because I already knew. His hand never left my face but instead made its descent down my jawline and stopped at my chin. He raised his thumb to reach my lower lip, letting the pad of his finger graze over the soft skin of my lip.

It felt like he was tracing every detail of my body, running his eyes over every inch at least twice so as to fully commit everything to his memory.

At last, the tension broke when he positioned his hand comfortably at the back of my neck, bowing his head forward to kiss me. This one was quite different than our first, for it was gentler and warmer. We weren’t forcing ourselves to make up for lost time. In fact, this kiss was saying, “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Plenty of time indeed. Which we were happy to spend making love again.

And I will be the first to admit that if our first round of unprotected sex didn’t solidify our future predicament, this time certainly did.

Six Weeks Later ...

“Hello?” Clearly frustrated, Emilia waved her hand in front of my face to harness me back to earth. I hadn’t realized I zoned out until she scoffed at me. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry. Could you repeat it one more time?”

She set down the papers in front of her and sighed unhappily. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so distant lately.”

It hurt to hear, even though it was the truth. I wasn’t intentionally being despondent, but it’s hard to be present when there’s so much occupying your mind, and there was one thing in particular that was keeping me up late at night recently.

My period has always been irregular. For as long as I’ve had it, I’ve always missed a few weeks, then it would become consistent, then it would be sporadic again. In fact, there was one year where I only had four periods total. So it didn’t strike me as odd when I realized three days ago that my last period was about seven weeks ago.

What did strike me as odd was the other symptoms I was experiencing. Menstruation cycles are known to closely mimic the symptoms of pregnancy, but with the knowledge that my period wasn’t coming, it was disconcerting to me that I was suffering the discomforts without the actual period itself.

To me, there was only one clear explanation for this anomaly.

I was pregnant.

Earlier in the day, I bought a pregnancy test and was late to work because of it. If Emilia hadn’t been suspicious of my behavior before, showing up late only made her suspicion greater.

I didn’t know when I’d take it, probably at home after work, but the anticipation was eating away at me. I would pace around the truck until Emilia finally told me to stop because the vehicle wouldn’t stop swaying with my every movement. I was biting my nails and chewing on each little piece that grew back just to bite it back down to the nub. My hands couldn’t stop shaking, my breathing wouldn’t slow down. I was a hysterical mess.

I didn’t tell Spencer any of my concerns, of course, but being as perceptive as he is, he noticed my strange mannerisms despite my best efforts to hide them.

“Your breathing just got faster. Are you feeling okay?” He paused the movie we were watching to check in on me one time. It should be known that the scene that caused my heavier breathing was a scene of a woman finding out she was pregnant and being absolutely devastated. I quickly brushed it off as just being too warm, to which he turned on his air conditioning. Luckily for me, he didn’t make the connection.

And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell Spencer - I really did - but why should I make a fuss about something if there ended up being nothing to worry about? That would just be extra stress, and the last thing a new, blossoming relationship needs is additional strain.

So without Spencer, I had to opt for the next best thing - my sister.

I’d reached my wits end, and I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. I was walking on eggshells with practically everyone I knew, and I’d sooner go crazy if I didn’t tell someone what I was really feeling. So in response to her question, I finally told the truth.

“I think I might be pregnant.”

You can imagine the shock on my sister’s face. Emilia’s jaw became one with the floor as her eyes widened so big I thought they would pop out of her head.

“You’re pregnant?” Already her eyes were welling up with tears of joy.

“I don’t know yet.” I put my arms around her to keep her calm and stable while the emotions began overpowering her. I wanted it to serve as a reminder to not get her hopes up, otherwise she’d get mine up, too.

“Well, have you taken a test?”

I reached for my purse behind her and rummaged through it until I finally retrieved the box. Holding it up, I reluctantly suggested, “I thought maybe you could be there for me when I did?”

She squealed with joyful elation, practically shattering the window pane with the high pitch of her voice. On top of that, she was jumping up and down with elegant grace that I had to wonder how her pregnant body could even manage to do such a thing.

“Of course, I will! Come, come, let’s go.”

We hopped off the truck and to the nearest restroom, which admittedly wasn’t the nicest of places, nor was the place I ever imagined as a child that I’d be finding out I was pregnant in, but it had to do for now.

When I first came out of the stall, I set the test face down on the sink, so that we wouldn’t see it until it was ready. Emilia set a timer for 10 minutes, but in the meantime, all we could do was wait. Neither of us could stay still; Emilia bounced up and down, rubbing her belly while facilitating some sort of breathing exercise. Meanwhile, I kept tapping my foot impatiently.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Emilia’s alarm scared the shit out of me, and we both were startled by the blaring sound. It was so jarring, but even that wouldn’t compare to the fear I felt when I realized it was finally time.

“Do you wanna look or should I?” She asked.

“You look.” I said at first. But when she lunged forward to take it, I did, too. “No wait, I should.” Then another moment of hesitation. “No, you do it. I can’t.”

I held my hands over my mouth while I watched her carefully lift the test off the sink, maneuvering it in such a way that only she would see the results. I watched her expression closely for any sign of a reaction, but she was stoic as can be. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, happy - nothing. Complete and total poker face.

“Come on, Emilia! What does it say?” I blurted anxiously.

“Well, first, what do you want it to say?”

That was a question I hadn’t considered. I was so busy worrying about what I didn’t know, to pause and think about what I wanted to find out. On the one hand, I’d be ecstatic if the test confirmed that I was pregnant. I’d jump for joy because that was what I always wanted, right? But on the other hand, if it said I wasn’t pregnant, then I’d be sort of sad because I got so close to that lifelong dream. But after that, I’d probably just be relieved to have dodged a bullet.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know-”

“Don’t think. Just tell me. What do you want it to say?”

Without missing a beat, I replied, “Positive.” My sister and I alike were stunned by my answer. “Yeah,” I nodded slowly. “Positive. I want it to say positive.” I repeated, to cement my earnest desire.

Emilia’s facade melted away as she began to shake her head. “I’m sorry, (y/n). There’s only one line.”

We both knew what that meant, even if she didn’t explicitly say it. I sighed dejectedly, which was a surprise to even myself. I didn’t expect to be this disappointed, and yet I was. The knot it my stomach worked itself free, and where that pit used to be was just emptiness. My heart sunk and steadied itself, and my breathing resumed its normal pace.

“Well,” I bit my lip. “I guess that’s that.”

Emilia instantly drew nearer to pull me in for a hug, one I was not ready to accept but welcomed anyway. “I’m sorry, (y/n). But I mean, sometimes tests just come out with false negatives.” With her face still buried in the crook of my neck in our hug, she mumbled, “Not this one, though. This one’s positive.”

Immediately, I retreated from our hug and pulled her in front of my view. The sneaky girl had a huge grin that took up 99% of her face.

“You’re pregnant!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking my body violently. We embraced each other in another hug while simultaneously jumping up and down. “I just wanted to trick you so you would know how you really feel. Now you know!”

And I did know. I did know that I wanted this baby and that I was glad it even existed.

Not long after our mini-celebration did I start to come down from the high of my euphoria. A certain realization dawned on me like a cloud of gray hanging above my head to rain on my parade.

What about Spencer?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

PART 2 HERE!

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caslikescoffeeandfreckles · 4 years

Text

Stealing is a Good Habit

#spnstayhome Monday 3: thief @pray4jensen @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 Read on Ao3

Elementary

The first time Dean steals from Cas, they’re five years old and blowing off steam on the playground before nap time. Cas is playing with his action figures near the swings, lost in a world of talking puppies and grand adventures.

He’s distracted for only a moment when a little boy falls off the swing and everyone holds their breath to gauge his reaction. Luckily, he just brushes himself off and jumps back on the swing. No teacher intervention needed.

Cas goes back to his toys only to notice that one is missing.

Instant panic floods his body and he feels sick, his heart beating, as he gazes wildly around the swing area. He knows he had his toy. It was just here a second ago!

And that’s when he spots it - just a tiny flash of orange clutched in the hand of another kindergartner. It’s not a lot to go on but Cas just knows deep down that’s his toy!

He’s up before he can even think, dashing to the other side of the swings where the boy sits. He’s moving the toy through the blades of grass like it’s on some amazing jungle adventure, whispering nonsensical dialogue to himself, but Cas doesn’t care.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

The boy looks up at Cas’s shout, big green eyes round with fear. “W-what?”

“That’s my toy!” Cas shouts, pointing at the figurine still in the other boy’s hand. “You stole my toy! My big brother says stealing make you a thief!”

“I’m not a thief!” the other boy shouts back, looking less scared now and more angry. “I found it!”

“No, you stole it!”

Unlike the kid falling off the swing, this argument does require teacher intervention. Cas and the other boy are taken off to the side where they continue screaming at each other until Ms. Summers is finally able to get them to take a breath and explain themselves.

“I’m sorry,” the boy who Cas has learned is named Dean says, in a very soft and quiet voice. “I’m sorry for being a thief.”

Big, fat tears well in his green eyes and Cas can’t find it in himself to be mad anymore. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, the way his mommy speaks to him when he gets upset. “Don’t be sad. I’m sorry for yelling.”

Dean had relinquished the toy a while ago but now Cas offers it to him, smiling brightly and moving closer. “We can share if you want?”

Dean doesn’t seem to believe him at first but when Cas tilts his head and keeps smiling, Dean starts to smile too, all crooked teeth and crinkled eyes. “Okay!”

Middle School

Cas is sitting alone at his unofficial lunch table. His tray sits in front of him, mostly untouched, as he chooses to immerse himself in the library book he brought with him. He knows most people find him weird for liking to read, especially when he could be eating or talking to friends, but Cas had never minded. He prefers stories to the company of others. Well, except for one person.

Another tray claps down across from him and Cas waits until he finishes the paragraph he’s on to lower the book and greet his best friend.

“New book?” Dean asks casually before shoveling a handful of fries into his mouth.

Cas hums and flips it so Dean can see the title. “I got it from the library yesterday. It’s about a boy who rides dragons.”

Dean’s eyes sparkle. “Oh, dragons? I’ll have to check it out after you!” Dean has always been a sucker for tales of fantasy and anything with a dragon is a literary masterpiece to him.

Cas smiles. “I’ll make sure to hide it for you.”

They both grin, remembering the last time they got chewed out by the librarian for deliberately putting books in the wrong spot so no one else could find them.

“You going to the game Friday?” Dean asks as he continues to eat.

The mention of it makes Cas wrinkle his nose. He’s never been a fan of sports and has nothing but bitter memories of his older brothers’ hectic schedules and stinky laundry and late nights spent shivering on cold metal bleachers while people kick, throw, and hit balls in every such direction.

It was not what Cas would consider the ideal way to spend a Friday night.

But then Dean had joined the soccer team. At first, Dean hadn’t been happy about it either, knowing his mom was making him do it as a way to blow off some of that 12-year-old energy. But over time, Dean has come to actually enjoy the sport and his teammates, likes the competition, the motivation it gives him to keep working and building his skills.

And Cas likes anything that makes Dean happy.

“I’ll be there,” Cas says at last, not trying to hide his put upon sigh. “But will it take forever like the last one.”

“Depends on how good the other team is,” Dean says.

“Then I hope they’re just awful because I would like to get home before it becomes an ice age again.” It was getting too late in the fall for these kinds of games and Cas could only carry so many blankets into the stadium.

Dean chuckles and reaches over to Cas’s tray to pluck some of his fries. “Told you to join the cheer squad. They always manage to stay warm,” Dean teases, his eyes sparkling, and he tosses the fries into his mouth.

Cas rolls his eyes and whispers, “Thief,” but then smiles. “And I’m not joining the cheer squad. I would look awful in those skirts.”

Dean laughs, head thrown back and eyes watering, and Cas watches, a voice deep in the back of his mind whispering about how he hopes he can always have Dean like this even if he’s too young to understand what that means.

High School

No one ever talked about how oddly relaxing school dances could be. Cas has always avoided them, always believing they were loud overwhelming affairs, too hot and too crowded. And they certainly are, he notes as he steps into the high school gymnasium transformed into an impressive ballroom for their senior prom. But there’s something about the volume of the music, the darkness, the heat... it’s like being deprived of your senses and so Cas is able to quietly melt into the background, surrounded by people he’s known all his life and yet alone at the same time and he just watches.

He watches friends and couples dance, line up for picture, toast sparkling cider in their plastic glasses like this is the last and greatest night of their lives.

Dean finds him at some point, face covered in sweat and grumpily pulling at his collar.

“I’m so fucking glad I never have to come to another one of these again,” he grumbles before stealing Cas’s water bottle and guzzling half of it.

Cas smirks and eyes the crowd. “I think it’s charming.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Because it’s your first and only high school dance. Trust me, the charm wears off by your second one.”

“But this one is different, isn’t it? It’s just for us. The tired seniors about to embark on the journey of adulthood.”

“I guess so?” Dean shrugs and turns so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder. “Where’s Meg?”

“Making out with someone somewhere,” Cas says, waving his hand toward the locker rooms. “Said it was one of her last chances to finally get through the sad art kids before they go discover what a personality is.”

Dean throws his head back and laughs. “Carpe fucking diem.”

Cas hums. He knew the risk of being ditched was high when he invited Meg to accompany him to the dance as a friend. Well, really when Meg made him ask her because, as she had reminded him so kindly, just because you can’t find a date with a dick doesn’t mean your gay ass can’t suffer with the rest of us. No one could ever accuse Meg or being unthoughtful.

She didn’t need to know that Cas had had his eye in a date. The perfect date, really. Someone he’s known since he was five. But someone he also couldn’t have because, well...

“Where is Lisa?”

Dean snorts and glances around the gym. “Hopefully somewhere with her friends forgetting who the came with.”

“Do I sense relationship problems?” Cas asks, trying to sound concerned but playful.

“Yes... no,” Dean amends. “I mean...” He runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I think I just haven’t been feeling it for a while? I actually kinda... wanted to break up.”

“With Lisa?”

Dean nods and Cas can see his shame, feels his own shame for the coil of excitement warming in his chest.

“Why did you come with her?” he makes himself ask.

“Because she asked me to prom before I could end things and I didn’t want to be a dick. But I think I’ve just made myself a bigger dick by leading her on?”

Cas can only hum and nod gravely like he understands. He’s never had to deal with relationships, one of the few reliefs when you’re one of the few gay kids at your school. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to do the right thing,” he assures his friend.

“Even...” Dean starts rubbing his neck, nervous now. “Even if it’s because I think I might... like someone else?”

Well this is interesting news. “Does Dean Winchester have a crush?”

It’s not that Dean’s never had a crush before, but with his looks and personality they never had to wait long before something came of it (i.e. Lisa, Tessa, Anna, even Cassie from sixth grade — that one had stung for reasons Cas had been too young to understand).

Dean glowers at the teasing. “Don’t be a jerk. It’s... I really like them. I think I’ve liked them for a long time.”

“Like a few weeks?” Cas hedges, trying to get a grip on both his and Dean’s emotions. “Months?”

“Um,” Dean looks away, “more like years?”

“Years?” Cas nearly shrieks. “Dean that’s really significant. And you never told me?”

“I didn’t really figure it out until a little while ago. It’s... hard to explain.”

He’s looking at the floor so intently, hands into his pockets now and Cas knows a defeated Dean Winchester when he sees one. Whoever this person is, they’ve done a number on his friend without even realizing it.

“Dean,” Cas says at last. “You know you don’t have to tell me anything, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m always here for you.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. I know, Cas. Thanks.”

The way Dean says it is as if Cas’s offer is fruitless and it hurts to think that he can’t help his friend.

Dean looks up suddenly, eyes guarded and pensive ans Cas doesn’t look away. Dean is thinking about something, deeply and carefully, weighing his options. Cas knows because he’s seen this look when Dean is playing soccer, trying to figure out the best next five moves. He’s always been a critical thinker, scarily so.

“Cas, I-”

“Dean!”

Cas doesn’t even have to look to know it’s Lisa, could recognize her pleasant tone anywhere. What does surprise him is Dean’s reaction because he practically bristles at his girlfriend’s voice. And he doesn’t look away.

“Dean?” Cas asks carefully, eyes shifting to wear Lisa and her friends stand just outside the throng or dancers, looking at them expectantly. “Lisa is calling for you.”

Dean’s eyes close and when they reopen, gone is heavy burden of his unmade decision. He looks crushed. Lost. And then smiles. “Yeah, I guess I better go.”

“I’ll be here,” Cas calls after him, more than a little confused at the way Dean walks way from like like he’s marching toward his death.

He’s left alone again with nothing to do but ponder the news that Dean has a crush. A pretty big one from the sound of it. He can’t help but wonder who she could-

Wait. Them. Dean has said them, not specially she. Interesting.

Before he can think more of it, Meg crashes into him and he can smell the liquor on her breath before she even speaks.

“I take it sad art boy and his friends managed to sneak something in?” Cas asks.

Meg just grins. “We all have our role to play,” Meg says. “And speaking of roles, I’m about to roll out.” She thumbs over her shoulder to the the doors.

“Will you be safe?”

Her snort is not surprising. “Please. I had like one beer. I’ll be fine, Cas.”

Cas doesn’t bother to argue. Meg has always been bullheaded and impulsive but never reckless. “Okay. Call me when you’re home if you remember.”

She stretches out on her tiptoes and smacks a kiss on his cheek. “No promises!” And then she’s gone.

The dance starts to wind down in another half hour, the music slowing and inviting couples to wrap each other close and sway.

Something in Cas’s chest drops as he watches the show of high school love and affection, marvels at how simple it looks but knowing just how complicated and nerve-wracking it truly is.

And how he’ll never have it.

Deciding that’s his cue to leave, Cas finally pushes himself away from the wall and starts for the door.

“Wait, Cas!”

He turns when he hears his name and waits for Dean to catch up with him. He frowns when he sees the near panic in his friend’s eyes.

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

“Are you leaving?” Dean asks instead.

“Yes? Figured I’ve experienced about all I can at a dance by myself. Are... you leaving?”

“No- I mean- I wanted to uh...” he trails off, hand rubbing his neck again.

“Dean?” Cas asks again, carefully.

Dean’s shoulders shoot back and he sucks in a deep breath before looking Cas in the eye and asking, “Cas, do you want to dance with me?@

It takes Cas a moment to decipher the words and even once he knows what Dean said he’s still not sure what Dean meant.

“I... what?”

“Dance,” Dean repeats, face falling. “I understand if you don’t want to but I- I wanted to ask.” He starts to back away. “I’m sorry, I’ll just-”

“Dean,” Cas says, just barely catching his friend before he can escape. Dean is terrifyingly still in his grasp and when he looks back at Cas with fear and apprehension, pieces start to fall into place. Cas smiles. “I would love to dance with you.”

They stay near the outside, not really interested in sharing this moment with their classmates. It’s awkward at first, neither sure where to put their hands until Cas finally decides to wrap around Dean’s shoulders and Dean’s arms naturally fall around Cas’s waist.

They sway slowly, not attempting any turns or fancy steps, it’s enough to just hold each other.

“I know this isn’t the time to ask...” Cas starts slowly and hates himself for asking at all, but it will drive him insane if he doesn’t. “But where is Lisa?”

Dean blushes something furious. “She went home with her friends.”

“Oh.” Cas nods. “Is you two... okay?”

“We broke up,” Dean confesses. “I told her I might... be interested in someone else. That there’s always been someone else.”

Cas’s breath hitches and he looks down at his toes where Dean’s word have warmed his entire body. He feels like he’s tingling all over, body alight with excitement and longing and every feeling he’s ever kept repressed and secret.

“Hey, Cas?”

Cas looks up and before he can blink there are lips on his, so soft and Cas’s enter body temples under it, under the weight of his first kiss with the first boy he’s ever loved.

He thinks even saints don’t get moment’s this perfect.

When the kiss ends, they’re both blushing.

“I-I- I’m sorry,” Dean sputters. “I should have- shouldn’t have asked before...”

Cas feels a little drunk, his body looser than before and leaning closer, until their lips just barely brush again and he whispers with all his affection, “Thief.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Bad habit.”

Cas pushes his lips closer, taking a kiss for himself. “Never stop.”

College: cas steals dean’s sweater

The alarm clock is utterly unpleasant and Cas feels no remorse slapping it into snooze mode multiple times. Until he sees the wrong number in the hour position and has to scramble up. He starts throwing on clothes before running to the bathroom to brush his teeth and throw some water in his face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Dean greets from the kitchen as Cas barrels out of the bedroom.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Cas snaps, struggling to slide his shoes on.

Dean arches an unimpressed brow. “Because I would like to live to see the grand old age of 22.”

Cas just rolls his eyes and starts looking for his backpack. At a whistle, he turns to Dean who is holding it along with a thermos and some toast in a napkin. “There’s a granola bar and an apple in your bag too.”

Cas is not unused to Dean’s we’re gestures but he still finds himself tearing up as he slows down for the first time since his feet hit the ground and approaches his boyfriend.

“What would I do without you?” he asks, burying his face in Dean’s neck.

“Probably starve,” Dean says lightly. “Other than that though, you’d be fine.”

“No,” Cas argues. “Not even a little.”

He shifts so he can kiss Dean, short and sweet but just as loving as their first and hundreth.

Dean’s hands have fallen to his hips he he looks down with a dopey smile, eyes lighting up. “Is that my sweater?”

Cas looks down and recognizes Dean’s high school soccer hoodie. “Oh. I hadn’t realized.”

“Now whose the thief?” Dean teases.

Cas rolls his eyes and steals another kiss for good measure before accepting Dean’s offerings. “I’ll see you later. Thank you!”

“Love you,” Dean calls after him.

“Loved you first,” Cas returns, smiling and dashing out the door.

#spnstayathome #monday 3: thief #destiel #deancas #drabble #fic #au #friends to lovers #first kiss #childhood friends #fluff

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themusicplayedherlife · 5 years

Text

Full House

1. “Can you repeat that?”

pairings: steve rogers x reader

characters: reader, natasha r., wanda & pietro m., clint b., scott l., cassie l., and adoptive parents

word count: 1.1 k+

warnings: tipsy family members, divorce, i think that’s all???

summary: you and your siblings have always known that your family is crazy, but life is about to get crazier with your parents’ latest announcement.

a/n: school has been stressing me out and i needed an outlet which turned into this! this story is based on a challenge that will be posted in it’s masterlist and will be written as i go--nothing but one thing is planned about this story lol hope you guys enjoy

all || next

You watch your nieces and nephew from the safety of the back porch as they play in the backyard you grew up in. The three kids are laughing and squealing as they pretend they're on a newly discovered planet, mimicking the astronauts and aliens they've seen on TV.

“Be careful, Cassie!” you call out when your nine year old niece gets too close to the pond, praying she won't lose her footing and fall in like you always did when you and your older siblings played out here. Those smooth rocks your mom likes to collect and decorate the pond with hurt. A lot.

Cassie barely manages to catch herself, but once she does, she turns to you with an adorable wide grin. “I'm okay!”

You chuckle, shaking your head in amusement.

“She’s like a miniature version of you,” Wanda, your older—and somewhat buzzed—sister, says after taking a long sip of your mom’s spiked strawberry lemonade.

“I can see it,” Natasha, your equally buzzed sister-in-law agrees.

“With all the time Scott’s asked me to babysit her, I wouldn’t be surprised if my personality has rubbed off on her.” You continue to watch the children, Michael with his curly hair bouncing around as he screams and pouts in mock anger when Lulu and Cassie steal his precious “jewel”—a pebble that they found near the pond—and use it to power up their spaceship.

Although the grill has long since been turned off by Natasha, the smell of meat still lingers in the air. Your stomach rumbles, needing more food. Apparently, the two hot dogs, loaded hamburger, and grilled vegetables you ate earlier wasn’t enough to satiate your hunger. But can anyone blame you? Clint knows how to make a mean marinade and Natasha knows how to grill everything to perfection.

You excuse yourself from the girls, making your way over to the leftovers, which there’s barely any, and build yourself another hamburger with all of your favorite ingredients.

Loud chattering greets your ear along with muffled cheering. Looking up from your hamburger, you notice the boys are all crowded inside. Getting a closer look, you notice they’re hovering around your eldest brother’s phone, trying to keep their excited chatter to a minimum. You sneak up behind them, trying to get a glimpse of what it is they’re watching—the soccer game. Of course.

“You do know mom and dad banned the game from today’s get together, right?”

Clint, being the owner of the phone, quickly stuffs it into his jean’s pocket. They all try to come up with excuses as to what they were doing and trying to convince you that they definitely weren’t watching the game, all the while you just continue eating your burger as you watch them sweat.

Scott, being Scott, immediately caves, causing Pietro and Clint to groan in annoyance. “Please don’t tell them. We just really wanted to watch the game! I mean, come on! Since when have they ever banned a soccer game in this house? They can’t suddenly take it away from us when they raised us to eat and breathe soccer!”

He’s not wrong, but you still snort at your brother’s rambling.

Pietro scowls, slapping your eldest brother on the back. “Thanks, Scott.” Scott yelps and murmurs something about little brothers and big muscles.

“Where are they anyway?” Clint asks, looking around the backyard and then taking a peek upstairs.

You shrug, not really worried. “They disappeared a while ago.” You figure your parents have gotten to that age, where although they love having all of you over, they prefer their alone time. They’ve probably gotten so used to it just being them most of the time, and sometimes occasionally Scott and Cassie, that the two don’t know how to deal with a full house anymore and need a moment just to themselves between the chaos.

Before anyone can say anything, your attention shifts when you hear shuffling from upstairs. Your parents come into view, both of them whispering as they take their time down the stairs.

“You guys okay?” Pietro calls out to them, all of you watching with curiosity that only grows when your parents quickly quiet down—halting whatever conversation they were having to look like a couple of deer caught in the headlights.

“Of course we’re okay,” your mom starts, calm and collected. Your dad on the other hand...

“Why wouldn’t we be okay? Just because we’re getting older doesn’t mean we’re not okay. Why does everyone think you’re not okay when you’re old, huh? I’m always okay—“

You share a look between your siblings. “Papi, we get it. You’re both fine. But you’re rambling, so want to tell us what you’re both hiding?”

“I told you you’d be the one to give it away, Beto,” your mom accuses him after you cut him off. “You almost told Scott-“ your eldest brother spooks as you and your brothers eye him curiously, but he shakes his head vigorously to deny whatever your parents are talking about- “last year that we were—”

Your dad pouts, moving away from your mom. “I already explained to you that that was a misunderstanding.”

Before your mom can retort, Pietro quickly interrupts, wrapping his arms around your parents when they’ve reached the bottom floor. “Okay! That’s enough bickering out of the two of you.” Your mom’s rolling eyes barely peek over his muscular arms entrapping her. With a soft tap to his arm, he lets them go.

Hearing the commotion, Wanda and Natasha have entered the room, both looking puzzled and interested in the current situation. Wanda comes to a stop behind you and asks, “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” your parents answer the same time you and your brothers say, “no.”

“Don’t think you’re getting away with not telling us what you’re hiding,” Clint says, shooting accusatory looks at your parents.

Your mom sighs and shares a moment with your dad. Finally, with furrowed eyebrows he nods. “I think it’s time, Mel.”

“I need a drink if we’re doing this,” your mom exasperates, moving past you to get some of her spiked lemonade.

“Why don’t we head into the living room meanwhile?” Following your dad into the space, you all take a seat. You sit between Pietro and Wanda while Scott sits on the armrest of the sofa you’re occupying, Natasha and Clint take the love seat—your dad on the other hand doesn’t sit, instead he stands in front of you all with a sheepish expression on his face as you wait for your mom to come back. When she does, she has two glasses with her. “Thank you, dear.”

“For what?” She takes an obnoxious sip, not caring about your grimace or the groans following her actions. “These are both mine.”

“So what is it? What’s going on?” you ask, eyes shifting between your parents.

“Why don’t I tell them?” your dad offers. “Rip the bandaid off gently—“

Your mom takes a deep breath and with a wide movement of her hands announces, “Kids, we got a divorce!”

The room grows quiet, including your dad who is staring at her with the same amount of shock as you, but for very different reasons.

Did they just—what?

Clint is the first to break the silence, his voice somewhat calm, but very much confused. Leave it to Clint to face the situation head on. “I’m sorry,” he says with a shake of his head and scoots forward in his seat. “You what? You got a divorce? Not you’re getting a divorce, but you got a divorce? What the fuck?”

“Language,” your dad chastises him, and in any other occasion you or the others would have made a joke about your dad’s distaste for curse words but now, at this very moment, all of the jokes you could possibly come up with are nonexistent. The only thing on your mind right now is the word Divorce and the fact that they kept something this huge from you! “I told you we needed to tell them slowly and gently! Look at them, you’ve broken our children.”

“Oh, come on, Beto! We couldn’t keep it from them forever!”

“Focus!” Clint raises his voice, needing answers from your parents, not their bickering. “Can you run that by us again? Because I'm still not sure we heard correctly.”

“We got a divorce,” he starts slowly, before quickly adding, “two years ago.”

“Wow,” Natasha starts just as Scott yells out a scandalized “Jesus!” She stands patting your brother’s thigh as she does. “Okay. I’m going to check on the children.”

Well, fuck.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #reader #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #full house series

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acuppellarp · 6 years

Photo

Welcome (again) to A Cup-pella, Jeanne! We’re excited to have you and Haley Sterling in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Jeanne Age: 25 Timezone: EST Ships: Haley/Chemistry, Haley/Nerdiness Anti-Ships: Haley/NoChem

IC INFO

Full Name: Haley Nicole Sterling Face Claim: Virginia Gardner Age/Birthday: 23 / September 17, 1995 Occupation: Part-time acup barista, part-time level 1 instructor through NYC Ultra Gymnastics, part-time student at NYU, defender for April’s Showers Personality: Competitive, impulsive, determined, naive, ditzy Hometown: San Francisco, CA

Bio:

Oh, the Sterling family. If there was ever a group more fitted for a reality TV show on TLC, it was them. That’s how an outsider would see it, at least. For Haley, it was just her family. The first few years of her life were spent loving her parents and little sister, and then her second mom and her second dad came into the picture. Whenever she went over to her friends houses growing up, they introduced her to their parents. Haley did the same, it just so happened she had a few more parents than them. It wasn’t the picture that she saw on TV, but that didn’t really matter. She had a family that loved and doted on her, that’s what mattered. She was an incredibly content child - set her out in the backyard to run around and play, and she was a happy camper. Or set her up in her bedroom, playing with her little sister (once upon a time, Jemma really did play with barbie dolls properly). She was content, and she was friendly, always running up to strangers and asking if they wanted to be her friend. Needless to say, her parents had to have the stranger danger talk with her more times than she can count, but the fact remains that Haley has always been a people person, easily able to settle into a crowd.

Dedication isn’t a word many people would associate with Haley even today, and it never has been. She comes across as having her head in the clouds 9 times out of 10 and she wasn’t exactly a contender for valedictorian. She’s not the person you to go if you’re looking for reliability, and that’s why a lot of people are thrown off when they find out she’s been honing her skills as a gymnast since the age of 4. It wasn’t some kind of “love at first sight” moment, where Haley knew she wanted to make it her life from day one. On the contrary, she remembers crying in frustration when she couldn’t get a somersault down as easily as the other kids in her class (granted it was within the first week of classes, but Haley’s child mind didn’t care about that).

That’s why it was so invigorating when she finally nailed it by week two… Haley’s never been known for her patience, you see, but the one thing she’s got going for her is that she doesn’t quit. She doesn’t quit because of that same excitement she got when she perfected that first somersault right, followed by her first cartwheel, her first handstand, mastering her first forward tuck and everything over the next few years as she climbed up the levels. She was 8 years old, level 9, when she got her first first place award on the uneven bars, subsequently helping her team take home the win as well. That, my friends, is when Haley fell in love with the sweet taste of victory.

There wasn’t time for Haley to ever cultivate many other areas of extracurricular interest. She’d arrive at school an hour before classes started to make use of the gym’s empty weight room for strength and conditioning, and immediately after school she would make her way down to the gymnastics center for more hours worth of practice. Her dedication and prowess in the sport are what helped her lock in a scholarship offered by NYC Ultra, a gymnastics club located not too far away from NYU’s campus. The school itself didn’t have a gymnastics program, but NYC Ultra had scouted her during her final meet during high school and offered to help fund her higher education if she joined their team upon moving. And its a good thing they did, because her grades certainly wouldn’t be earning her any academic scholarships.

Leaving her family had her balling like a baby, but Haley found herself settling in to New York City life eventually. It was a much different pace than San Francisco, that was for sure. Still, Haley prides herself on never really feeling like a fish out of water, especially since she quickly made friends with the other members of her gym and then at school. Her decision to major in social work was based in her family’s own unconventional-but-still-good history, and as much as she struggled to maintain her school, practice, and work schedules, she did find herself liking the course she was on. She was a full-time student for her first two years, but recently after much debate and guidance from people significantly smarter than her, Haley made the choice to go from full-time student to part-time student.

At the same time, she also made the decision to retire from competing in gymnastics and try her hand at coaching, something she’s discovered a love for. She’s now certified to teach entry-level gymnastics, and she thinks she’s found a good balance to her life. It also lost her her academic scholarship, but with the time she’s freed up from her previously strict practice schedule and full-time course-load, it’s all been a relief. She can study without feeling pressured to make it a priority, and is able to both work and be involved in athletics at a pace that lets her enjoy herself rather than feeling constantly stressed. Sure her schedule is pretty packed, but it’s all things that bring her happiness, so it’s worth it.

See, the thing with Haley is that if she isn’t interested in something, it falls to the wayside. But once she finds her passion and groove, she is all in. That’s the reason why she can’t sit through an algebra class without daydreaming, but she’ll give you a point-by-point breakdown of why Laurie Hernandez should’ve taken the gold for the Women’s balance beam during the 2016 Olympics, or make an entire PowerPoint on why Digimon trumps Pokemon (she’s still gotta catch ‘em all though, make no mistake). She knows what she loves and doesn’t waste her time or energy on things that won’t end up bringing her personal happiness and fulfillment. Is that a good way to be successful in life? Probably not, but has it helped Haley get through the last 23 years with minimal sadness and reason to say she didn’t give something her all? Absolutely, 100%, a thousand times yes.

Pets: Haley has had iced coffees last longer than some goldfish. She’s pretty much given up on trying to keep any kind of pet alive at this point, so instead she has her bedroom windowsill decorated with succulents. They’re less likely to ruin her carpet and lose her her deposit.

Relationships:

Jemma Sterling — She’s the first person to admit that Jemma is far from perfect, but she’ll also attempt to rip anyone’s head off who dares insult or undersell her baby sister. Watch it, folks. Haley adores Jemma, even if she does worry her from time to time with just how… we’ll say just how “free” she can be. It’s probably not the best idea, but she trusts Jemma wholeheartedly. In a way, Haley is a little envious of how open her sister is with everything, but that’s a story for another time. She still loves her to the moon and back and then to the moon and back again.

Blair Anderson — Haley and Blair dated for a short time, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when the broke up. Or at least Haley calls it a break up — she won’t say it out loud, but a part of her felt completely jilted and forgotten about when Blair went on her cruise. It’s been months since they’re brief fling, and while Haley hates being anything less than UBER SUNSHINE HAPPINESS, she’s also still angry with Blair. Could she suck it up and just talk to her to get resolution? Of course she could. Has she? Absolutely not, Haley lacks that kind of foresight for common sense.

April’s Showers — Even though she replaced being on a gymnastics team with coaching, Haley did miss the extra boost of athleticism that came with constantly being in practice. She got the idea to join April’s soccer team from her sister, and it’s definitely been a big help in keeping her endorphin levels high and her laziness levels low. It feeds in to her competitive nature, and she digs almost everyone on the team so far. Being on the same team as her sister means they have to share the family brain cell at the same time, but Haley’s enjoying herself.

EXTRA INFO

mmmhalebop ☄️ / HaleyStorm / i’m secretly the fourth member of Hanson

Five latest tweets:

@HaleyStorm: @marvelstudios pls call my insurance company and tell them you’ll cover the surgery to have the heart you ripped out of my chest replaced @HaleyStorm: manny santos hiking up her thong will always be iconic #whateverittakes @HaleyStorm: #gymnastsecret - if you see me hold a position on the bar too long, it’s bc i 100% blanked on the rest of the routine @HaleyStorm: tba @HaleyStorm: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! guess who just saw a dog, me it was me you don’t have to guess

#accepted

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yenni19 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 14

Sakura(frantically hugging Akamari): thank goodness you are ok (meeting her eyes) where were you hamchop....I was worried sick...

Sauske(to Akamari): you know you scared your grandmother half to death with you disappearing like that.....

Boruto: and why did you dissappear like for four days....

Akamari: I'm sorry everyone if I worried you....

Naruto(placing a hand on Akamari): I think those two need your explanation (pointing to Kawaki and Souske) I think it's time you three need to talk things through...the atmosphere between you three is scary...and you deserve closure

Naruto has everyone go to the back patio to let Akamari, Souske and Kawaki talk

Akamari: look guys im....

Kawaki(running to hug her as he cries): I'm sorry....I'm so sorry Akamari....I'm sorry for not being there.... I'm sorry for being a stupid coward and not thinking about your welfare....I should of thought of you and not myself....please forgive me Akamari....

Akamari(hugging Kawaki): I don't blame you for anything....but I can't say I'm not upset (releasing herself from his embrace) but we can try to start over ok....and forget that this incident ever occurred....is that ok?

Kawaki(hugging her and smiling): ok I'm willing to do that....for you Akamari

Kawaki leaves the room to go with the others in the back patio, Akamari places her hand on Souske's shoulder

Akamari: I'm here right in front of you daddy...and yet you won't look at me (releasing his shoulder) why daddy....why are you so terrified of me?

Souske(stands up to hug her): I'm sorry I never knew how much harm I caused you....I'm sorry for all the times you pleaded to see me and my fear didn't let me....I'm also sorry for making you believe that because you weren't my actual daughter that I didn't love you anymore (meeting her eyes as he cries) I'm sorry Akamari for failing you as your parent....I'm the one to blame here not you

Akamari(crying): that's all I ever wanted from you daddy....an explanation (drying her tears) but enough of that....can we have a traditional picnic at Senju park with both grandparents....and invite Kawaki's family and Boruto's family as well?

Souske: sure but...when though?

Naruto(barging in): how about tomorrow....

Sakura and Hinata(excited): we can prep lunch....and desserts.....ohhh and your favorite sweetened kimichi...how you like it

Akamari: thank you....grandmother.....grandmama

Boruto: and we haven't had a traditional picnic since we were kids....right Kawaki

Kawaki(smiling): no I haven't (looking at Akamari) but I wouldn't mind spending the day with you....Akamari

Akamari(smiling): thanks....father

Everyone stood silent, Kawaki started laughing as everyone stared at him

Kawaki: you sound like Sarutobi when you say that...I'd prefer a nickname

Akamari: ok....how about Kama-kun

Everyone gasped except Kawaki, he stood there silent turning red as he remembered how Himawari used to call him that nickname

Kawaki(crying and smiling): how did you know.....that nickname?

Akamari: grandmother use to say her daughter would call someone Kama-kun...now I know who he is......

Kawaki(walking over to hug her): thank you....thank you for existing.....and becoming a good person like your mother

Akamari(smiling): your welcome....Kama-kun

-------------------------------

It's the day of the traditional picnic, Akamari along with both her grandparents and Souske are at Senju park waiting for Boruto and Kawaki's family to arrive, moments later Kawaki arrives with his family

Sumire(with Saphire crying): I'm sorry we're late Saphire won't stop crying......

Akamari(offering a hand): can I try....I promise to be gentle

Sumire hands Saphire over to Akamari, she massages her left foot with her hand, and then massages her back causing her to release gas....she then calms down falling asleep

Sumire(impressed): how did you do that

Akamari: I would visit the hospital from time to time and help the nurses when there was special cases involving orphaned newborns being left there because the parent was a teenager who got pregnant

Sumire: oh I've heard that happening more often...has there been a resolution?

Akamari: my grandmama talked to the hokage and said he will consider sexual education as a required course for both male and female audience of ages fourteen to sixteen...and also several clinics have offered thier safe rescue plan just in case being a parent is overwhelming....its even on the entry windows....its been working since that proposal was passed and more babies have been safely handed over and the teenage girls are offered free therapy and good family planning

Akamari hands over sleeping Saphire to Sumire,she then stands up picking up a soccerball

Akamari: Sarutobi let's play soccer (to Kawaki) your invited to join us too.....Kama-kun

Sumire(staring at Kawaki): kama-kun....where did that come from?

Kawaki(smiling): it's just a nickname....that's just starting to grow on me (to Akamari and Sarutobi) so let's go have fun

Akamari & Sarutobi(excited): yeah let's go...

Sarutobi: but I don't think it's fair two on one...

Souske(interrupting): then let's make it even....me and Kawaki....against you two

Akamari: you got it dad.....but be aware...this is my favorite no contact sport...and I'm good at it...so your on

Kawaki(sighing): what are you not good at...

Sarutobi(admitting): chess....she sucks at it....I win all the time....she gets annoyed because I don't let her win

Akamari: you really had to say that....Terrubi

Sarutobi(blushing): stop calling me that...I sound like a poodle

Akamari(laughing): but your a cute poodle (touching his nose) with a cute little snout

Sarutobi(angry while running): I'll get you for that Akamari

Akamari(laughing as she runs from Sarutobi): come on purple eyed boy...come and catch me

Souske & Kawaki(annoyed while watching): this gentle affection annoys me....why are they acting wierd

Sauske(coming behind them): it's just a sibling affection...what's wrong with it?

Souske & kawaki: well...from the looks of it...it looks more romance than....

Sauske(smaking them both of them): if you ever bring it up again I'll make sure to castrate both of you!

Souske(to Kawaki): let's go play before we get murdered...

Kawaki: that assh....

Souske(pushing him away from his dad): let's go...trust me he's more capable of more than just a smack on the head

Both fathers join Sarutobi and Akamari for a fun game of soccer...they play a good two hours before they are called to eat

Hinata(handing Kawaki his lunch): here you go sweet heart

Kawaki(accepting it): thanks mom....honey did you eat?

Sumire(smiling): yes I did now I'm....

Kawaki takes off his shirt and four women passing by stop and stare....Sumire gets uncomfortable as everyone sees the situation

Akamari(grabbing a large towel and covering Kawaki): here....be more aware of your surroundings...your making your wife uncomfortable Kama-kun

Sakura(smiling): wow....this is the first time she is considerate to someone besides us or her father

Naruto: it's amazing to see....by the way where's Boruto with the boys

Boruto(tired as he joins the group): we are just getting back from a fierce game of tag....I kept losing

The twins(arriving behind him): he lost everytime...because he kept moving hiding spots

Sarada: I'm glad you guys had fun...so what's on the agenda Akamari?

Akamari: I was thinking a movie in the park....they are showing one tonight here at Senju park

Sumire: that would be lovely...I've always wanted to attend one

Akamari: I was thinking we all could go as one big family....

Sakura(smothering her as she hugs Akamari): yes...that would be awsome...

Sauske: your smothering her Sakura...

Sarada: mom I don't think she can breathe...

Boruto: she's turning purple

Sakura(realizing): oh I'm sorry Akamari....(releasing her) you know how grandmama gets carried away

Akamari(gasping for air): its.....fine....I'm.....ok

Sarutobi: so when is the movie event mom?

Sumire: I believe at eight o'clock tonight...but we need to find a place...

The twins(taking a challenge): don't worry everyone...we will find the best spot for us to watch the movie event leave it to us

Sarada: but its two hours from now guys...don't you think it's too early....

The twins(running off): bye mom will see you guys later...well meet you there once you guys head home to change!

Sarada(mad): wait....you two need to hold it for a second....don't just run off!

Naruto(getting up to leave): well I guess you heard the boys...let's clean up and we all meet up at the outdoor theater

Kawaki & Sumire: yeah that's great

Sarutobi: awesome

Sakura & Sauske: we'll be there

Souske: would love to...that's if I have the energy...Akamari kicked my butt

Boruto & Sarada: yeah it would be a lovely evening

Naruto & Hinata: yeah well go as well

They all clean up and head home, they all arrive thirty minutes before the outdoor theater starts

Kawaki(to Naruto): you made it dad...where's mom...

Hinata(behind Naruto): I'm right here...just a little behind my husband

Sumire(admiring the outfit): your dress looks lovely the color is perfect on you

Hinata: thank you...you look amazing as well

Kawaki(grabbing his wife's hand): should we go find the twins to see where we sit (telling Naruto) come on dad let's go....mom you too

Hinata: yes sweetheart

They arrive at the spot, they see Akamari already there with the twins and Sarutobi

Sarutobi(waving): mom, dad, Mr and Mrs Uzumaki...over here is this the best spot or what

Naruto: wow nice we even have an uphill advantage so we can see perfectly...you guys did amazing

The twins: thanks...we told you we would find the perfect spot

Saphire starts crying....Akamari asks if she can hold her

Sumire: sure...she's all yours

Akamari(grabbing Saphire): thanks I'll be close by...(to kawaki) see you Kama-kun have fun....and enjoy time alone

Kawaki: your acting as if I'm bor....

Sumire(interrupting): we'll be fine....you can go ahead

Akamari: ok you two bye

She walks off with the baby, moments later the Uchihas come with Boruto and Sarada

Boruto(looking around): wow what a crowd that many people for an outdoor movie

Sarada: honey it's an outdoor movie....its different from going to a theater

Sakura: but its amazing its walking distance from the lake

Sauske: it guess it will be nice to enjoy a movie outdoors

Naruto: come on Sauske...enjoy the moment..its outdoor air...you know

#fan fic related #anime #comics

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ofazaleas-blog · 6 years

Text

・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ . what’s good, i’m raquel and i like sleeping more than anything in the universe. meet my lil baby azalea (lea for short) and, yeah she’s really cute, kinda been through alot but look at her now! flourishing. you’re gonna come to realize i’m really extra lmaoo but promise you’ll love me. i already love you guys! plot with me or just message me any time. aLSO THIS IS VERY LONG SO THERE’S A TLDR right under the basics list lol sorry about that i have an uber amount of muse for lea ・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ .

tw; death mentions, drug overdose mention, depression mention

・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ .❝ basics❞

full name: azalea lynn morgan (maiden name was harris ) date of birth/zodiac: june 25th, cancer personality traits: sentimental, emotional, insecure, sensitive, overbearing, loyal, imaginative, moody, loving, optimistic, fickle, empathetic, inflexible, clingy

[tl;dr] azelea grew up daughter to a mayor and a proffessor in sacramento. was the popular girl. lost her brother in college, had a bit of a breakdown because of it. now her life is slowly getting back on track.

・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ . ❝ past life❞

born in Orlando, flordia to dwight and opal harris. dwayne harris politician and dahlia was a professor at sacromento city college. they had a two year old son, malcolm before azalea was born.

so that pretty much means she grew up pretty well off

azalea went through school kind of as a teacher’s pet. other kids picked on her a little about it, but she didn’t let it get to her. she was a well-mannered young child and actually really loved learning and being at school.

sUCH a daddy’s girl. would ask him for anything and she’d always would get it.

early middle school, everyone wanted to be friends with the mayor’s kids.

lea still stayed focused in school, but was still pretty well liked. though, she spent a large part of her time just time with malcolm. he was two yrs older than her, so he was a bit more established in the school and well liked. played baseball, track, and soccer. kind of was a superstar at it. really talented.

naturally, lea looked up to him . the two were inseparable they’d spend a lot of time in his room playing video games. her brother had the biggest video game collection she’s ever seen. he taught her everything she knows about superheros and video games. basically, the two were attached at the hip.

it wasn’t until freshman year of highschool lea and malcolm sort of parted social groups. he hung out with the jocks way more and she hung out with popular/student government sort of crowd. (you know the kids who put together prom and are also voted prom queen? that’s azalea.)

she had her first boyfriend freshman year

also met the love of her life freshman year (though she didn’t know it them)

lea was assigned a romeo and juliet class project with elliot morgan the two of them had obvious chemistry, but she was in a relationship and pretty much never thought elliot would’ve been interested in her. she still saw him around bc their parents work together

the following year azalea was no longer with that boyfriend, and was on the drill team (which is kinda like cheer? but they just do dances. here.)

cute alert! she gets asked to the spring ball by none other than elliot! came as a bit of a surprise but she literally couldn’t have been happier that he’s who she’d go with, this would turn into a three year relationship and the two of them becoming top couple at the school.

her life is pretty perfect.

until her and elliot break up! she is super inflexible and hates change, so the idea of elliot going away to college upset her. they’d planned to go to school together and the change of plans was enough for her to say alot of stuff she shouldn’t have.

she moves on, never willing to see elliot again despite her brother’s efforts. dated other people in college but was never truly happy after elliot.

about to get super sad bare w/ me

so her brother was dealing with alot once he got to college but he never told anyone. he went to a local school, and really got caught up in the worse parts of being a college athlete. malcolm was always the happy go lucky guy in the family, he didn’t want to worry his family. he took Xanax at a party he very well shouldn’t have been at and ever since that day, he hadn’t stopped. it got to a point where he’d forgotten how many pills he’d taken-- so he just took more.

Malcolm died of an overdose at age twenty-three during his first year of grad school.

lea had just turned twenty-one. this completely turned lea’s world upside down. loosing her brother was the worse thing imaginable. there were weeks of sleepless nights and waking up in tears. she’d lost her best friend. and she kept looking for why he never told her. they were so close, and she had no idea that was what he was dealing with. she’s still haunted by this thought-- if only she’d known she could’ve helped him.

she sees elliot for the first time in years at malcolm’s funeral. it was like her brother was reminding her once more just how foolish it was to push away her first love. malcolm always wanted the two of them together again.

and from that moment on... they were.

lea and malcolm get married on november 4th and move out of Sacramento and to riverside on just a few weeks later. everything about that town made her think of her brother. she just wanted a fresh start. (video games, certain smells, superhero movies-- remind her of malcolm.)

has her first son in riverside hospital. wyatt malcolm morgan. and her life is only looking brighter.

・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ . ❝ current life & headcannons ❞

very very married atm. hopelessly, and happily in love. she’s the type of hopelessly in love to where she’ll mention elliot in every conversation possible, have scheduled daily calls with him just to talk about how her day is going

“yeah, lea so then i went to this grocery store..” “did you go to the one of 4th ave, el loves that one.. ugh, i love him so much.”

she’s SUCH a teacher. decorates her classroom excessively. like looks like this during the fall and equally as extra during christmas. ya’ girl loves decorations and keeping things organized and perfect.

the type of teacher you remember from your childhood. super sweet and excitable. hugs each kid as they walk in the door every morning and once they leave, always brings candy and snacks, makes a big deal when it’s someone’s birthday can get silly and dresses up for halloween and just-- like a great time? her kids listen to her because they love her so much.

picture miss frizzal from magic school bus lol

loves her son soooooo much so much. feel like he looks something like this

really wants all the local moms to like her?? she’s THAT mom that’s not totally apart of the group bc she’s only lived in riverside for a few years

has always been that mom friend who brings an organized purse of anything you might ever need. from lip balm to bandaids to stickers.

・ ˖ ✦ ⋄ .❝ extras ❞

outfits. tattoo in honor of her brother. house bc why not? wedding aesthetic

favorite food: mac and cheese.

favorite color: pink!

favorite ice cream flavor: strawberry

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hollywoodx4 · 7 years

Text

Sticking with the Schuylers (Interlude 4)

We had so much Church discourse the other day that he had to get something of of the deal. (A reminder that this is a modern AU). In any case...Grey’s Anatomy once did an episode titled Japril the Movie...I present to you Johnica (wtf would their name be help me) the Movie.

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Tagging: @linsnavi @butlinislin (I got the tags to work finally bless)

Warnings: This story is pretty heavy on mentions of both physical and emotional abuse.

John Church is not a man of many words; for years he had been deemed as mostly stoic, a social pariah destined for nothing more than solitude. Not that he minded. No, even at a young age he had preferred nothing more than his own company. The Americans just didn’t get things the way he did. They never understood his humor, or even the things that he said. His tongue was often tied in a knot and suctioned to the base of his mouth, his face reddened by the sting that came along with laughter and squished up, taunting expressions.

His life in England had been fine-great, even. Schooling had been the best part of it all. From kindergarten on his marks were high and his usually quiet nature brought about excellent reviews from his teachers. His social life consisted of friends he’d grown up with; private school mates who’d been mucking up their khakis and playing recreational football from the day they could walk. They all lived around the same little block of identical brick townhouses, the kind that were so squished together that walls were shared with neighbors and windows were only in the front or back of the house. John and his friends were frequent flyers on that cobblestone street, moving from house to house in what they pretended to be the life of gypsies, or pirates bound to the land. Life in England was familiar; comfortable.

John immediately set himself apart in his schooling by taking the advanced math class. His grades had been enough to warrant a letter accompanying his transcripts, praising his smarts and his ability to decipher complex word problems. His mind is different, they’d said. What they should have said is that he is different. And although he had close friends, a good family, and a peaceful childhood, it never felt like enough.

Aside from his group of pre-determined friends John sought solitude; the peace of a quiet night, his little back bedroom littered with model cars he liked to build. Everything was better as a puzzle-a riddle waiting to be solved. Putting things together had been his strong suit in this sense. His father often could not buy the model sets faster than John could build them. So some nights, with no homework to be done and nothing to tinker with, he would sit by his bedroom window with a plan in his mind. At eleven, he’d had it all figured out. He’d finish school with high marks-high enough to get into Oxford. It was an end goal his parents could brag about; ‘our son wants to go to Oxford.’ His mother would get a particular shine in her eyes every time she said it, one that transferred seamlessly through the air to him on clouds lifted by his dreams. It held him up, kept him to a standard he could not ignore. Oxford was his end goal, but then there was more. In his quiet house, with his hushed and stoic family, eleven year-old John Church wanted nothing more than approval. He wanted nothing more than pride.

So when his father earned a fellowship at the New York Presbyterian hospital, he’d smiled and nodded and let them pack up all of his things into cardboard boxes. “It’ll be alright,” they’d said; “This is a wonderful opportunity.” And his father had smiled, and rubbed his fuzzy-haired head, and taped up another box. Quiet, solitary John would be moving to the big city. He was less than thrilled.

Being the new kid was something he anticipated as a rough experience; there wasn’t a novel he’d read that had depicted the occurrence as pleasant and life-changing, at least not in the beginning. His hopes were low when he walked into his first day at the school in the Upper East Side, bearing khakis and collared shirts not unlike the ones he’d been wearing his entire life. If life was going to continue changing, at least his uniform wasn’t. The hot burn of eyes on him carried him through the halls on rapid feet, moving from one place to another in the form of retreat rather than excitement. He felt none of the bubbling, tingling wonderment described so delicately in the novels he’d read on the plane. The beauty of a new place, the opportunity to start fresh…John had never wanted any of that. Exciting, at this point, meant nothing more than agonizing. Twelve years old seemed to be the worst age to start school.

Twelve year old John kept his silence and his privacy when he moved to America. He kept the knack for puzzle solving, although now it was complex equations in math class rather than model cars. Those had been left in England, an uncharacteristic nod of disapproval to his father’s decision. John remained stuck to one group of friends, those who’d also made the football…no, the soccer team. And although he wasn’t that great at the sport, it carried him into just enough of a social life to squeak by. He wasn’t popular. He wasn’t a nerd. He hung in the threshold of it all, quiet and gangly and gaining nothing more than a life he hadn’t wanted and a few rounds of pre-pubescent pimples.

Middle school went this way; an assortment of awkward moments squished into a vignette of unwarranted trips to the dean’s office (John, of course, being completely innocent in the pranks of his teammates) and walks down to the deli for sandwiches and giant cookies after school. He enjoyed the scheduled time with his friends-it was less of a hassle to socialize when their circle held more friends, where he could sit back and laugh without worrying about contributions to the conversation. Even though they were not the bike riding, puddle splashing boys he’d shared his childhood with, these kids were alright. Trips to the deli became ritual he actually looked forward to. In time the uniform bearing, joke throwing soccer boys finally felt like family; even if they got him in trouble too many times to count.

The deli is where John Church’s life in America grew fuller, more vibrant. As twelve turned to thirteen, he was met with the news that his father had taken a position as the interim head of neurology at the hospital. It was good for his father, who was beaming when he came through the door that night with the news. It was good for his mother, who’d joined a circle of moms from the soccer team, and relocated her therapy practices to an office uptown. John smiled at their happiness, their success. If they were happy, he could be happy too. He would stay as long as they needed him to.

At thirteen, he finally felt himself wearing that beaming grin his parents sported so often. He began to understand.

He’d been at the deli with his teammates, drinking lemonades and splitting giant cookies and causing a harmless sort of ruckus. It wasn’t too crowded that afternoon, the only traffic coming from the typical sets of people they’d see every day. There was the mother and her four children, looking frantic and scattered as her little ones begged for treats and touched everything in the shop. Then there was the group of men on their bikes, who looked over at the soccer team with a sort of reminiscent pride that had them joking about their future. John and his team sat in their regular booth at the same time every afternoon. These people were familiar, a sort of community in their own right. That’s why, when the unfamiliar faces strolled in, all eyes turned toward them.

She led the small pack, a well-conducted cocktail of confidence and protection tucked into bootleg jeans and an orange top. She wore her hair in an assortment of tiny braids moving down her back, with beads that clicked with each of her steps. John looked on in wonder, even when the conversation between his friends began to die down and the room grew silent. The braided girl held hands with two others; a fairer-skinned girl stayed closer to her side, not much smaller than her in height. She surveyed the room with a smile and kept close to the other two girls, greeting the man at the counter with a soft voice. Their other companion was small, with a voice that filled the deli as the oldest of the three shook her head.

“I only promised you one ice cream, Peggy, not three. Daddy only gave us enough for that.”

She tugged the two girls through the line with a purpose, letting them each pick something out before paying. He still hadn’t stopped looking, even when the girl noticed him and his friends. She rolled her eyes, glancing between her companions before moving in their direction.

“Is there anything else you boys have to do than stare?” Her eyes were a hard accusation as they scanned the table, the other girls following shortly after. He was immediately intimidated, but his friends were not shaken. In fact, one of them even cracked a confident smile.

“Have fun in Bermuda, Angelica?”

“We did, thanks.” John attempted to hide the pique in interest he’s sure he’d begun to show. This girl is unusual; she does not flaunt herself in front of them. She doesn’t throw herself at their table, or bat her eyelashes…her tone is even and even a little harsh. The way she held herself was refreshing. He smiled too.

“Do you guys have a game this week?” It was the girl in the middle, with sleek hair and a moon-shaped face, who spoke next. This time, John responded.

“We have one tomorrow and another on Saturday.”

“You’re new.” Angelica turned her attention to him and his face grew warm. His throat closed, his words stuck between the tip of his tongue and the inside of his mouth. They clogged his brain until all he could do was shrug his shoulders. His friends watched. They snickered. He understood why this girl doesn’t know him; he’d never seen her before, although she seemed to know all of his friends. But then, she seemed to know everybody. She and her friends (her sisters, he would be later corrected) had been called by name by everyone in the shop, a place he’s been nearly every day since joining the soccer team two years ago. The more he attempted to rationalize, the redder his face grew. Why doesn’t this girl know him?

“Not really new, I moved here two years ago from London.”

“Oh. Well, new to the team then.”

“Two years on the team, too.” His friends were now near giggling, if one could call the irritating sound of freshly-teenaged teasing a giggle. There’s that feeling again, the need for model cars and rainy weather and his little back bedroom. Her sister Eliza apologized to him immediately, flustered for something she hadn’t even started. Angelica took no hint from this. Instead, she nodded.

“Well then, just new to me I guess. Your name?”

“John. Yours?”

“…Angelica Schuyler. I guess I’ll see you around, John.”

…

By fifteen, life in England felt like a distant memory. It was near enough to call upon, to access in his memory as if it had just been yesterday. But John was aware of the fact that England had just been a small fraction of his childhood. At this point, with his father in a completely blissful (and unusual) state and his mother gaining new clients every day, he understands that the interim piece of this move isn’t so temporary anymore. And at this point, he began caring less and less about moving back.

From that first meeting in the deli, John had realized that Angelica was in his grade. At fourteen, she was in three of his classes. She sat herself next to him, taking steady notes and chatting with him in between. He enjoyed her company, the way she filled the room with conversation and kept her opinions short and not-so-sweet. There was always a point to be made with Angelica, who took most of life in stride and threw back whatever was given to her with a vengeance. She was loud, and unapologetic. And as her father’s political popularity grew, hers did socially.

She never ignored him.

John Church was still quiet, and shy. He still believed in his ‘scheduled socialization’ ritual. But then, things grew to be different. He didn’t mind when Angelica showed up at his house unannounced. He answered her sporadic calls, listened to her rants and gave his feedback. And then, she’d asked him to get ice cream with her.

“…As a date.” She’d said, with her eyes set and one hand resting on her hip. “I think I want to date you.”

…

At seventeen, John Church had his life completely figured out. Angelica Schuyler was the source of his epiphany, standing by his side even after two years together. Life seemed so different now, in a place where the taxis and the deli and museum dates had become familiar. And he’d eased into it, this transition, in a way that when somebody mentioned London, he realized he hadn’t been missing it-or thinking about it-at all. This was his home now. She was his home. While his father gave lectures on difficult procedures and his mother pestered him about college he worked his way through the subway; through an afternoon job he’d insisted on getting so that he could do things properly, spend money that was his own. Most of it went to Angelica, anyway. That’s what made him happy.

She walked through her life just the same as she had when they were fifteen. Angelica Schuyler was a form of tropical storm he’d been lucky enough to chase. He hung around her brilliant words, billowing like clouds above her and shaped in the form of her opinions. She was the outgoing one, with the ability to craft a sentence from mid-air and send it flying through a room of diplomats who were always waiting to catch it. John watched this all in awe, always wondering just how she was able to captivate so many people, to change so many opinions. And at this age, in the second year of their relationship, John craved that power. Not for himself-he liked quiet, he enjoyed it. At seventeen, he wanted the power of persuasion to change his father’s mind from making a decision so unlike himself that it physically pained him.

“We’re moving back to London.” His father was firm; terse. A dispute at the hospital had set him this way, to where he felt he could no longer even stay in the same city as the doctors that had wronged him. When John agued, he pushed back twice as hard. There was no breaking this man. Richard Church had always been set in his ways. There had been no discussion about leaving London, and now there seemed to be no clear way for John to stay in the city.

He fought. As the days grew closer to their moving date he became a boiling, tense sort of angry his father had never seen before. He slammed doors, and stormed through the house, pulling pieces of behaviors from what he had seen on television. No longer could he feel the pull that had been with him since childhood. His father’s excitement as he packed up their things was not beautiful, or inspirational. It did not fill him with longing to please. There was something else on his mind, something bigger.

She’d always been bigger than anything else in his life.

Which is why, when she’d agreed to leave town with him for the weekend in protest of the move, he nearly cried. She’d spent just as much of these days compiling argument after argument of why John should stay, at least finish out his last year of high school in the states. Then, at least they’d have more time. Then, they’d have a year rather than one month. Angelica couldn’t handle the idea of his leaving; John read her filtered conversations and hushed tones as such, and he’d been right. She carried herself differently upon hearing the news. She was heavier. They spent their summer nights unable to be separated. They became a single entity instead of two people. She’d always said she’d never act in such a way.

She’d snuck him into their pool house in the Hamptons a day before they decided to skip town. He’d cooked her dinner, and when her parents left he’d gotten a shock when Angelica bounded out of the bathroom wearing something lacy which left more skin exposed than covered. He’d said they didn’t have to do anything but she’d insisted, quoting poetry by strong women in a whispered voice and convincing him that two years had been a long enough wait to have sex. That was followed by a night swim, and a declaration, and a plan to show their parents just how serious they were.

It surprised John just how easy it was to get away from his parents; to feel no remorse and to bask in the glow of Angelica’s company. They were seventeen when they decided to run away together. It was only a weekend-a fraction of their history-but even then he’d known the truth. He didn’t need his father’s pride, or his mother’s half-cracked smile. No, what John Church needed more than anything else was Angelica Schuyler by his side.

At seventeen, their jaunt had made his parents so angry, so infuriated, that they’d decided John should stay in the states. Their reasoning made no sense to him; he was happy here, shouldn’t a punishment mean taking something away from him instead of giving him what he wanted? His parents had always been book smart, too busy to treat John as a child and now too wrapped in themselves to care whether their form of punishment would work. He did not complain. He barely said a word until he got to the Schuyler mansion, throwing himself at Angelica and relaying his parents’ words to her. His father was disappointed, and Phillip Schuyler hated him, but none of those things mattered. He would not live his life to please other people. He would live his life for her smile.

At eighteen, he tossed his acceptance to Oxford in the trash and cherished his letter from Columbia. His parents were disappointed. He didn’t care. John made new dreams, goals involving business and remaining in the bustle of the city-this city-for the rest of his life. His problem-solving mind worked wonders with the curriculum he was given and the internships he fought hard to earn. And Angelica, she was a spitfire meant for nothing but law. Her arguments were still as compelling as the day they’d first met, at thirteen years old.

They stayed together. Against what everyone else had said, and predicted, they’d stayed together. It wasn’t as much of a hassle as his friends had made it out to be. They understood each other, Angelica taking note of his quiet spells by granting him privacy and shielding his heart. He stood by her rants, and her arguments. He bought them an apartment, and a fish, and he kept the words he’d never fully said. He’d promised her, through the context of his smile and the commitment he swore, that he would stay.

Now, at twenty-three, he wants nothing more than to leave. Not her; no, never her. In the early morning hours, when Angelica still sleeps peacefully against him, his eyes train themselves on the ceiling. His mind wanders. His heart, which had been so full for so long, feels an incredible pull he hadn’t felt since childhood. The petrichor emerging from the cobblestone streets, pairs upon pairs of yellow rubber rainboots causing droplets of fresh rainwater to litter their clothing, staining it with mud and a dampness felt for the rest of the afternoon. He recalls the pace of life, slower and more introspective than the rough and busy days in New York. And he’s not so sure what this tugging on his heart is until London flashes through his mind for the rest of the week. These are not just memories; this is longing.

His parents are thrilled that he’s chosen to extend his studies at Oxford. Their golden boy has finally come to his senses, finally realized what is right for him. If they harbor dismay over the news of Angelica’s acceptance they do not voice it, which makes John’s heart swell with pride and love and anticipation. His childhood dream is coming true, and the girl he’s loved since high school is going to be right by his side.

For now.

Angelica comes home in a flurry one night, leaving a sparse greeting at the door before running her tropical storm path through their bedroom. She fills a duffle bag with things, ranting about something he can’t decipher until he finally asks her. Eliza is living by herself now. Something must have happened with Alex. She needs to be there for her sister. It isn’t until she’s halfway out the door that she realizes the candles he had set up, adorning the small kitchen table with the meal he had cooked her the night they had first slept together. Her eyes scan the scene, frantic and searching and not quite reaching the reaction he had hoped. They are glossed over, almost, with an indescribable depth that lingers on the surface. It pulls everything from Angelica, stashes away her feelings and replaces them with something else; protection. He knows what she is going to say before she does so he waves her off, blows out the candles and calls it a night. He watches her run to her sister without a second thought, the night of their eighth anniversary. He writes it off as just another night, another fleeting moment. He writes it off until they’ve had the discussion ten times over. Angelica wants to go with him. She’s excited. She just hasn’t had the chance to tell her sisters yet.

It’s a thorn in their side, this weight that drifts heavily over them. It’s a conversation held almost nightly over dinner, with straight tones and exasperation. Angelica has always been his light, a storm he’s wanted to follow. Now, he’s not sure what is happening. Now, the longing for London grows even stronger.

“What’s holding you back?” He asks her this during a particularly long argument, where she has done nothing more than talk circles around herself. She’s just spent another night at Eliza’s, keeping her company. He doesn’t mind it. He loves that she is close with her sisters. However, when she still has not told the person closest to her about the move that is happening in just a few months, he knows that something is wrong.

“What’s keeping you from telling her? You tell your sisters everything so there must be a reason that this particular piece of information has been hidden for so long.”

“I mean I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of stuck.” The words, trapped in her throat, come barreling out all it once. She means to control them, hold them back and let them ring through the air with some semblance of strength. Instead, a shaking begins. Her voice cracks.

“Stuck how?”

“Stuck as in I don’t know if I even want to do it anymore!”

There is a longing, a pull toward his family and his country that John hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d been so excited to return, to acclimate himself into a life he had once loved fully and without care. He’d spent years in America, years wondering when he could go home until finally he had made this country his home. He had dropped the opportunity to return for her once already, at seventeen. He’d dropped everything for her; her family instead of his, her Christmas, her tropical storm shadow.

“I’ve dropped everything for you.” There is a quiver in his voice that resonates clear through their apartment. He holds himself steady, showing offense only in the way his timbre drops and his eyes narrow; slightly, just enough to be noticed.

“Excuse me?”

“I love you, Angelica. I love our home, and your family, and this life, but I…when is it going to be my turn?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what you think! It means hey, I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time rearranging plans and getting tickets together, and re-buying them when you used the money on your sister. And now-now what? Once again you’re going to drop everything, even something that’s very important to me, for Eliza.”

“If you think for a second that I wouldn’t drop everything for her, then you don’t know me.”

“I do know you, that’s the problem.” He throws his hands into the air, carving tracks into the floor where he paces back and forth. He takes a moment, breathing steadily, before settling himself on the couch. He pats the space next to him, inviting her to do the same. John holds her hand. “I’ve been looking forward to this-to showing you everything that England has to offer-for such a long time. I know that Eliza is going through a lot, but I also know that she’s a strong person. She has people here to hold her up. It doesn’t have to be just your job anymore.”

Angelica purses her lips, closing her eyes to let the silence of the moment drown her thoughts. She can still feel John’s presence next to her; the way he stares, attempting to give her confidence where she needs a clear head. He has always been her rock, and she’s always been Eliza’s. She’s never had to choose. Expectation fills the room with a thickness too heavy to stand. There is a line between what is expected of her and what she needs to do. Its thin red trigger point stares at her, burns her with its dagger. And with each passing moment with her feet on either side, everybody is burnt. For once, Angelica is speechless. John shakes his head; her hesitation is proof enough for him.

He’d never minded being a drop in her brilliant ocean until he’d realized what it felt like.

�

#hamilton #hamilton au #angelica schuyler #thanks for your patience everyone #moving is not fun #mine: swts

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mmroad · 8 years

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The Auction

Chapter 9:

“Those are some preeetty strong words there, Heath.” Lexa dictated to Tobin as Tobin paced her floor of Clexa Corp. back and forth that Monday morning. “Like I loved Clarke really early on…buuuut…” Lexa leaned her head in and looked to either side of her and said quietly “…we all know you don’t say it after seeing her twice…” she paused and mumbled “even if she is the most beautiful blonde you have ever seen in your life and she has the hips of a…” you could tell she wasn’t even there anymore: she could only see Clarke.

"LEXA,” Tobin snapped, trying to get back on topic. "Anyone who has ever been in a room with you knows you love Clarke…” Tobin said, rolling her eyes. Lexa confusedly looked at Tobin as if Lexa didn’t understand how Tobin possessed such top-secret information. “YOU UNDRESS HER WITH YOUR EYES!” Tobin cried out as if they were second graders on the playground, and Lexa blushed sanguinely (she was unaware that everyone knew that she like liked Clarke so much.) “Yeah…well…I guess it’s a good thing I married her,” Lexa squeaked out.

"Okay enough about you already…” Tobin harped out, “I have a serious problem…I’m IN LOVE with Alex Morgan…I’ve BEEN IN LOVE with Alex Morgan…I had her in my house, but I drove her away…what do I do?” Tobin whimpered out as she dramatically sat down in the chair across from Lexa’s desk. “Well…” Lexa drew out slowly and then escalated her tone, “you could um…I don’t know…TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL!?”

Suddenly Clarke busted into the room, “Whaattt is going on in here with all the yelling? “Oh, I’m sorry honey. Tobin and I were just talking about her buyer,” Lexa spat out quickly with a smirk. “Hmm,” Clarke inquired, “what about her?” Tobin tried to answer, “Nothing she and I jus—“ “TOBIN’S IN LOVE WITH ALEX MORGAN,” Lexa interrupted like an excited child. “Well aren’t we all…?” Clarke replied in joking tone.

Tobin gave out a small nervous laugh with a slight cringe, “You guys! This is a serious problem: what should I do? I messed up, and I can’t take it.” Lexa sighed, “Tobin,” she paused and thought carefully about what she was going to say to one of her oldest and more cherished friends, “You know exactly what you need to do.” And with that, Lexa stood up from behind her desk and strutted through the doorway, leaving Tobin and Clarke behind. Tobin had hung her head in defeat when Clarke headed to the door, but before leaving, she stuck her head back into the office taking in the sad heap of Tobin. “Tobin!” Clarke said in a stern tone. Tobin picked her head, revealing her sad, slightly wet puppy dog eyes; defeat was looming behind her pupils. “Go after her,” Clarke encouraged before chasing after her lover.

Tobin sat alone in her boss’s office. Both courage and fear battled in her head. For a second, Tobin thought fear might triumph; her eyes darkened. People passed by here and there, but no one even noticed her. She knew Alex wouldn’t have passed over her. Alex always picked up on her. Just then Tobin had a fleeting memory, not of an event, but of a feeling.

Tobin was a young girl. Just turned seventeen, Tobin was a junior at Alex’s senior prom. It was cold, and they were taking pictures of everyone in their fanciest attire. Alex, Tobin, and a few of the other soccer players in their coed were chatting and laughing. Just then, Alex’s mom called her daughter over. Alex strutted to her mother; she looked fierce and hard in her long, tight black dress. Her mother was talking to Mrs. Carrasco and her son Servando. Alex and Servando were childhood friends, and their mothers wanted them to get a picture together. (They were the most attractive kids in the school; they had to get a picture together.) As they were posing, Servando must have said something hilarious because Alex burst out laughing. Tobin saw the way Alex looked at him and the same kind of fear and anxiety and doubt filled her mind then as it was now. It took a second, but when Alex locked eyes with Tobin again, she cut the pictures despite both mothers’ protest and rushed over to Tobin. “Tobin, you know we’re not like that.” “No, Alex, I know. It’s not your fault you shouldn’t be sorry…I really don’t know why I was jealous.” “Tobin, you can’t help how you feel, but I just want you to know I am yours always.” “Thanks,” Tobin paused, “hey, Alex…how did you know what I was thinking…nobody else did.” “It’s your eyes Tobin: it’s always your eyes.”

In that moment, Tobin’s face brightened. Clarke and Lexa were right. She knew what she had to do. After doing some digging, Tobin realized that it was going to be harder to find Alex Morgan than she had previously thought. Sure, she’s a super star but that means you can’t find her in the yellow pages. "Hmmm…how can I find Alex’s address?” Tobin thought to herself, “I could always call up the soccer team and pretend to be an agent in order to get her…no, no, no, that’s borderline stalker.” Tobin pondered a little longer, “Well…there’s bound to be an Alex Tumblr fandom that knows where she is (for some reason they always knew where she is)…but ugh that will take forever; I don’t have time to sort through all that trash.” Tobin finally came to the realization that she could probably hunt down Alex after a soccer game like a little fan girl, and maybe just maybe, Alex would see her and give her a chance. It wouldn’t be pretty but Tobin had messed up, so she had to make this right.

That night, Tobin bought a ticket for the Courage’s game against the Reign. Tobin had watched a lot of soccer in her life, but this was her first time watching a Courage game live. She loved the environment, the children, the energy, and the love of the game. The only problem was that Tobin had to keep herself from getting a little too excited when Alex scored which happened kinda a lot. When Alex scored her hat trick, Tobin didn’t exactly even know what had happened, but she was all of a sudden by the railings at the front of the stands. Tobin didn’t know what had come over her, but she was just screaming and screaming for her girl. After a few seconds, Tobin looked around and realized that nobody else was screaming like she was. Moreover, based on the somewhat upset or even shocked faces of the people behind her, Tobin may have done a little pushing while getting up to see her romance.

After the game, there was a big crowd to see the girls. There were people of all ages, little kids running around in Courage jerseys so oversized they looked like dresses, lots of face paint and decorative blue and gold signs with players’ numbers on them. The fan base in Carolina was impeccable and had grown in the short span of time that the team had been there after it was relocated from New York. The game crowds were starting to compete even with the big city teams like the Portland Thorns.

Tobin knew the second the team began to file out of the locker room because the crowds low rumble turned into a high pitch scream. “Here we go…” Tobin thought “I have to compete with a hundred-other people to get Alex Morgan’s attention.” All the girls on the team walked over to the crowd signing posters and soccer balls and taking pictures with the fans before waving goodbye to the crowd and thanking them for their support.

Alex, of course, was the last to stumble out the door (she needed some time to decompress after each game, win or lose.) Tobin could tell, even from far away, that Alex’s smile didn’t seem as bright as it normally did—that was odd because the Courage had a shockingly strong win against the Reign. Alex always took her games personally. Tobin thought back to one time when Alex and Tobin were playing in high school again. Tobin was nervous because her friends Allie and Kelley were coming to visit from National City. Tobin loved Allie and Kelley; the trio hadn’t been complete in a long time, and Tobin was so excited for them to come and especially to meet Tobin’s love, Alex. The only problem was that there was a soccer game right before Kelley and Allie came. Tobin knew that if they lost, Alex would be torn apart; she would make it her fault, and it could jeopardize the visit. Tobin just wanted everything to work out perfectly. However, all the worry was for naught when, with about five minutes left in the game, Tobin split two defenders and drew just enough attention to pass the ball to a free Alex Morgan who scored easily and secured the win. Needless to say, Alex was in a great mood, and Tobin’s friends all loved her. Alex Morgan was the happiest girl on the planet after a win. Why wasn’t she this time? Maybe Alex was having a tough time just like Tobin. Some things are more important than soccer.

Tobin stayed back behind the crowd leaning on one leg against a tree with her arms crossed waiting for the crowd to die down. Tobin watched Alex (how could she look at anyone else?) Alex was mesmerizing with the children, always bending down to talk to the smaller kids at eye level, never passing over anyone who wanted to see her. (Although people called her a soccer player, she thought of herself more as a liaison for the game she loved.) If she could, she would stay for hours after long gruesome games just to make sure everyone got what they wanted. Tobin loved that about the girl and was glad she got to see it unfold right before her eyes.

Once Alex thanked the last little girl waiting to get her U.S. soccer jersey signed, she turned around to head to her car when she heard a familiar voice call out, “Alex…Alex can I talk to you for a second,” she knew who it was. As Tobin stepped out of the shadows and made B-line for Alex, one of the security guards stepped in her path and puffed out as chest, almost as a way to say “keep movin’ punk.” But just as Tobin was about to open her mouth and explain herself, Alex waved the guard off: “it’s okay Serge, I know her,” with a tint of heaviness in her voice. Serge looked back to Alex, giving her an eye asking if she was sure. Once Alex gave him another nod, he stepped aside allowing Tobin to go to Alex.

“What are you doing here?” Alex asked in a skeptical, strained tone, “you can’t just show up here Tobin, this is my job and I…” “Alex I know…” Tobin reposted, “I didn’t have another option. You can’t even imagine how bad I need to talk to you.” A slight smile peaked onto Alex’s face before she realized she was supposed to be mad at Tobin and tucked her grin away. “Well…what do you want…?” “I need to tell you something but I can’t say it here…can we…” “How about my place. Now. Just follow me there.” Alex interrupted, and without even giving Tobin time to protest, Alex was already walking to her car. “No wait, Alex, I didn’t mean…it’s not…” “Follow me Heath…I’ll see you soon!” Alex interrupted again before dipping her head into her car. Tobin wasn’t sure about this. She was hoping that they could talk on more neutral ground. As Tobin shut her door she gulped and thought to herself: “I’m going to Alex Morgan’s house…” Tobin muttered to herself “to tell her that I love her…goooooddd.”. ________________________________________

#alex morgan #clarke griffin #talex #clexa #the 100 #tobin heath #uswnt #talex fanfic #uswntsoccer #lexa #theauction #mmrode

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ecotone99 · 5 years

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[SF] 3097

Part 1

The grass was starting to die everywhere and the trees were looking more like stumps now in the scenic Texas rain. Malcolm sat back and lit a cigarette under the hand me down Seattle Mariners hat he found in the rubble of some ancient Texas citizen's home. It's been about two months since he's had a shower and the stench lurking under his nose was starting to settle, for good. Camel Turkish Golds. The taste never ceases to amaze him.

"I'm conflicted", Malcolm says to himself. Thinking he heard someone grace him into discussion he swung the whole front part of his body back into the direction he just walked from. Silly Malcolm, he's just urging for someone to converse ate with, it's been four months since he had one. The sun glistened and as it did Malcolm focused his attention on the dead sky. Its rained everyday since he's simulated and this little fact is ringing out in his today more than it ever has. As he thought about what home must be like, the long journey back, the cigarette that's burning too fast under his hand me down Seattle Mariners hat, and mom and dads high expectations he was reminded of why he was so conflicted. Mom and Dad. How in the world was he going to explain the cancer stick burning poisonous toxins and tars into his skull. How was he going to deal with their household doctor, or their household therapist. Oh, he forgot. Bernie the household therapist was no longer employed to them because of the nation wide law that feelings are starting to be outlawed. So therefore most therapists are losing their jobs rapidly. Bummer. Who knows, maybe they dead. Malcolm smiled at the thought of this, but his gleam was followed shortly by sorrow and regret. He loved his parents, even if they were a little dull and more then a little bland.

Malcolm lives in the year 3097 and like you may have guessed, he's not up with the times to say the least. An awkward shaped specimen he is, tall enough to stand out in any given crowd, yet slim enough to fit into a package of matches. He's been tested for anorexia three times by the household doctor and each time the doctor walks right down to his parents bedroom, knocks the large and intimidating black door so hard that the paint chips fall off and says the same four words "We need to talk". Of course these extremely unimportant talks that only seem to concern their sons health and well being would never happen. "Yeah sorry that isn't happening Malcolm's just fine he's just being dramatic, you know kids", is how these conversations would generally end. Systematic Social Prep and Schooling (SSPS) is the name of the very prestigious private academy that Malcolm was enrolled in up until his departure from the elite. The elite? The elite is what many people in the 21st century would have called "upper class". Malcolm laughed at the thought of their being anything other than the elite from time to time. He read in a book he found in the now desolate and solemn place known as Texas that the world used to be based on three levels of social class. Three? As if one isn't too much now, he thought. They had what was known as lower class and middle class which had an alarming amount of issues. As he read through the list of information he got an immediate feeling of humor. And This is humor. This is fiction. So you're telling me that education was something that was just given to all? Malcolm thought at the time as he lit up another cigarette. Speaking of school, it's urgent that I stay on the topic of why Malcolm is here in the beautiful mud and decay of rural Texas.

SSPS is considered to be the highest form of education in all of Great Made America (GMA). The career paths are off the chain, the money it costs to attend just one class is astounding, and the cars sitting in the parking lot are like an expensive rainbow of luxurious machines. If you were to do the math on the class of 3097-3098's automobiles it would probably be equivalent to what it would cost to cure cancer. Yeah, a lot. Malcolm got a Honda CRT587 for his 16th birthday, which featured a home movie theater, vending machines, and a hot tub in the backseat. Even though Malcolm smiled when his parents handed him the keys he couldn't help but be a little mad. Really? That's what he got? See what Malcolm's parents didn't know is that Geoff Infante (Malcolm's best friend since birth) just got a Honda CRT588 which scratched the movie theater to shreds and included an IMAX dome theater as well as a personal household doctor which can never leave the car. Epic! While Malcolm attended SSPS he generally excelled in his education. An important thing to note is that education is not the point of Malcolm's very important high school.

The school is split into three pieces, three different times periods throughout the day. The education portion is how the students would begin the day, this is where you would find most kids sleeping, skipping, and of course, on their devices. The athletics portion of the day is when most kids would show up. Common sports like baseball and soccer no longer pull the attention of the modern child, instead the most popular and exciting sport has to be gossipball, a game that requires two students (the delivers) to walk in a circle around a singular student (the deserver) who stands in the middle of the gymnasium. The deliver's will come up with the most hurtful and vile insults and truths about the deserver's past and present, see how long it will take before the deserver has an emotional outbreak. If the deserver doesn't have an emotional outbreak by the time the deliver's run out of ideas then that person wins the match and then gets to become a deliverer. The participants volunteer, but every Friday they have what's called growth and development day where the coaches get to pick the participants at random. They call this growth and development day because everyone benefits, the deserver becomes stronger and more numb to abuse, and the deliver's get to becomes better at gossiping. Gossip, key to any brave heart in Great Made America.

The last portion of school, and by far the most important, is the two and a half hour long lecture and activities that go along with the theme of appearance. Appearance is the most vital, urgent, and sought after thing in Great Made America. When the country was first settling in the late 21st century the founding fathers realized a predictable flaw in every human being. Attachment. They realized that not only do whole hearted relationships nearly never last, but that they can often times be unhealthy. So upon catching this great realization, the founding fathers came up with a formula that serves as the motto for the country. "Uniformity through conformity", this means that everyone will be the same, and nobody will be able to build an unhealthy relationship because everyone will conform to the idea that relationships only lead to distress and pain. In other words, a genuine relationship doesn't and can't exist for the country to function the way it should.

SSPS and the country as a whole work together to teach the youth how to appear correctly through a variety of different ways. First of all, when a child hits the age of 10 they are required to download and create at least 3 social media accounts. the child must be active for at least 25 hours a week on these apps. There's household teachers for every citizen. These teachers will focus more on making the child understand that it's crucial children break any form of feelings they have for anyone, including family. When the child turns 13 they will have a brain monitor installed into each and every part of the brain. This will track emotions, every person gets what is known as the "3 strike rule" meaning, if the monitor shows that a person has committed more than three acts of "severe" emotion in a month, the citizen is faced with a punishment. These monitors are turned off during sleep, and athletics. The teachers strongly urge the gossipball players to get personal. At the age of 14 things like sex and love start to come into play. At SSPS students are taught that it's okay to touch, and share moments of affection, however this affection can't be genuine love. It's okay to make a relationship, as long as it doesn't go past a surface level. Students at SSPS are graded on their ability to conform to situations, show signs of fake, or artificial positivity for people they don't respect, and lastly, how many surface level friendships they can build in a semester. Social media is an absolute cheat code here. Follower count on social media platforms is forty percent of the appearance course grade at the end of the year. This brings us to why Malcolm stands by himself under the bright sun and humid weather of rural north Texas. He's not conforming up to standards, to say the least.

Part 2

The process of creating real life simulation isn't hard for the wealthy and well educated law enforcement at GMA, but it's a process that nobody looks forward to. It can only mean that someone isn't behaving the way they should be. Malcolm sat strapped into the full sized ancient type throne of a chair they had thrown him into. Sticking out of each one of his wrists were two giant tubes, one holding a creamy looking substance that could only resemble sour cream. The other was holding a thick red liquid, after looking at it and feeling a little lightheaded Malcolm was able to conclude that they were drawing his blood. They probably needed some to create a simulation.

The door busted in and in walked an average sized man with perfect hair and a perfect amount of hairspray product in it. The doctor had a clipboard with a sickening amount of papers pressed up against his chest like a bible.

"First name Malcolm last name Houser. As you already know, and just making it very clear again, you've broken the three strike rule twice in the last two years." Said the man in a deep and over the top professional manor.

"Yeah". Malcolm said.

"Malcolm I hope not to trigger an emotion but instead just ask why you chose to use your emotions?" The man said. As Malcolm watched him move, he noticed that his mannerisms were making him extremely jealous. The doctor was able to sound so concerned and friendly yet manage to not care one bit about the situation in all reality. Impressive.

"It just happens. I've tried to look at people like flesh and bones like we're taught at school but I guess, it's just hard for me." Malcolm said.

"I see. Malcolm you have to understand that it's completely unrealistic to have concerns in a lifetime okay friend? We're worried about you. You haven't just been showing signs of emotional disorder, but you've shown signs of having much bigger problems. It seems like you can't figure things out within yourself. Which is quite sad because you're a teenager and this is the time where you should be figuring out your life goals, permanent career path, and most importantly looking into buying your own household doctor. And Malcolm please keep yourself collected right now because although I speak nothing but the truth all the time, they're just words and words are just opinions okay friend? Last Thursday your emotion meter spiked in the anger field because someone was just messing around with you, surface level joke anger, I may add, his emotional measure can prove that by the way. Anyways, you actually worked up the nerve to tell him to his face that you would inflict physical violence upon him if he continued to just joke around with yo-"

"He told me I look like I haven't had anything to eat in a couple of weeks and then threatened to steal food from my vending machines in my car because I 'don't need it anyways'". Malcolm responded in a snarky tone.

The doctor thought for a second, gathered his words and as perfectly mellow as always repeated "Surface level anger, I may add".

Malcolm sat quietly. He's right. There's nothing he could say to try and prove his innocence. Scott (the bully from school) was clearly using what is known as joke anger, not a real emotion, so there's no reason for something like that to bother him.

"Alright ", the doctor proceeded "not even two days after that, two days Malcolm, you broke another strike". It was like all of the universe had shifted away from Malcolm. His hands began to become a state of slime induced clamminess and his feet started to tap faster. Panic rushed through his eye sockets and he could feel it burn his serotonin out of his soul and replace it with a sharp drowning sensation.

"Malcolm your brain reader indicated that you sensed what is known as sadness, then a day later you were sensing one of the most toxic and unnatural emotions, jealousy." The doctor winced as he spoke. Malcolm gulped and looked for a breath of fresh air, none in sight. "These are inhumane emotions that need to be exterminated in our great community. A community of suffering is what we fight against, friend. Uniformity through conformity, Malcolm. Uniformity through conformity."

Part 3

The nights are mostly restless. The days are bleeding together one by one like a family of melancholy ducks. It isn't helping that Malcolm only had one more cigarette left in his pocket. The bed that he had been sleeping on for the last four, five, or maybe even seven months was pretty much mush at this point from the heavy amounts of precipitation that never seemed to end. What's the point? Malcolm would often think. All of his friends would be walking across the school for the last time soon, and he's stuck in a video game. A video game. There's nothing more that he would love to do then to just leave.

There is no out. There is no fight in this life. There is only acceptance.

He woke up under the moon, he was able to build quite a home for himself out of beach towels and rugs hanging from two dead trees like a hammock. The rain doesn't stand a chance. As he got up he got a feeling of disobedience. It was against the law in GMA to be out past 9:00 pm without at least four acquaintances wearing the same color shirt and hairstyle as you. And by the way the stars were shining and the moon was visible through the blue and white painted beach towel, Malcolm knew it was well past 9:00 pm. He briefly considered getting up and seeing what it's like to be a criminal, walking alone in the whitened moon light. This is unethical of course, but it slipped into his conscious out of nowhere.

"My evil tendencies exceed me". He said as he got up, laced his shoes, and let the night absorb him into dead trees and isolation.

Part 4

Malcolm walked. He walked towards dead trees, deader trees, and the deadest trees. His heart-rate had actually managed to slow down. He had been having an episode. He was told once by a very important politician that leaving the house past 9:00 pm without four acquaintances wearing the same color shirt and hairstyle would result in a most unusual fate. Your heart would be set on fire and then pulled out of your chest by a squadron of rabid half starved rodents and poverty stricken humans. He may have been two or three years old when he first heard it, he couldn't quite remember. But much to Malcolm's relief, there were no rats, and not a human being sharing the same earth as him. He was thinking about all the right and wrong that had got him where he was when the strangest thing happened. He opened his mouth towards the sky above and nearly turned into a pool of shock when he found that there wasn't a single drop of water touching him. An abnormal, swaying structure appeared in his vision. It moved freely. As Malcolm walked closer he got a sense of hope. The craters of the moon stretched down and lit the shape up. It was a female unlike anything god had graced him with. Back home at GMA women were not allowed to exceed a weight of 155 pounds. This woman had to have been at least 240. Her hair was thinning, her eyes looked bright orange as she moved so freely. GMA citizens were only allowed to dance to the top trending music. There was no music here. Her body swayed from left to right and she made no noises, no plastic small talk, she just smiled and shifted her direction to Malcolm as she danced. His eyes turned into bad weather. His heart opened.

Even a community of suffering can find hope within its damnation.

She was the most visually appealing and beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. As he floated to her, he felt something. His heart opened and closed over again frantically. His brain didn't know in the slightest what it had just created chemically, but his life long nutriment of the war waging in his decisions came over him. It gripped onto his brain as he thought about her, and two beautiful baby boys by their side in some run down excuse for a home made out of beach towels and carpet rugs. It tightened his neck like a noose as he thought about the future with his feelings, for the first time in history. He thought about home, the misery he would endure settling for a world that was never meant to be his. The fight inside him began to die and he reached out and touched her monocle. This energy absorbed from her was unlike anything mankind was supposed to feel, and he smiled under his hand me down Seattle Mariners hat as he accepted this unknown emotion as quickly as he could.

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btsburgh · 7 years

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Chapter 13 (The Darkest Timeline)

Tawni’s brain was firing off responses. Anything immediately available in her brain was dragged to the forefront like it would help her situation.

SWOT Analysis. How long have I been asleep? When is class? Go get your beanie. It’s on your head. Bradford. Bean’s on the balcony. Jungkook.

Jungkook?

Jungkook.

There was a single fanzine that looked at Jungkook. Eye contact was made and she could feel the electricity. The coursing feeling of sudden understanding that JK_Love97 knew that she was holding hands with THE Golden Maknae. As the girl tilted her head, and Jungkook looked at Tawni, there was no longer anything beyond fight or flight in her synapses.

“We have to go.” Tawni whispered, tugging on their joined hands urgently.

“Uh, duh. That’s where I’m going silly.” Jungkook said, his like 8’4” ass a little bit stronger than Tawni so when he tugged, she went along with him and towards the door.

“No, really.” Tawni urged, “We need to-“

But it was too late. Through the window, she could see the one girl raising a hand to pat her friend and pointing at the glass. Her oily fingerprint indicating directly at Jungkook on the window.

“Fuck.” Tawni made a decision.

———

Jordan locked her phone, effectively ignoring the call from Kim Seokjin, but also saving herself from getting dragged into another 95’s and their mother brand escapade. Namjoon seemed really distraught anyways and was tugging on Jordan’s hand.

“What’s up?” Jordan asked.

He looked away, another notification from Animal Crossing Pocket Camp pinging: Somebody new has moved into the park. And what a shame that Namjoon was more interested in the dispatch page than anything. Rocco was a truly interesting little horse that he was just ignoring because his band was making headlines or whatever. Dumb.

“So …” Namjoon clenched his jaw, obviously displeased with Rocco. Or I guess BTS. How can you be displeased with Rocco? I’ll attach a photo here like look he’s so cute.

Rocco

Anyways moving on

“Taehyung has been spotted in Busan. And Lobi never checked into a hotel.”

Jordan wrinkled her stress line free forehead (stress free because she’s never once worried about a anything besides America’s Next Top Model) and spoke, “Why are either of those things problems?”

Namjoon looked at her like she was actually insane, “Taehyung was in Seoul like two hours ago and Hoseok isn’t supposed to be-“

All of a sudden there was a scream.

No, more than that. A sea of screams. A symphony, cacophony of screams that erupted out of nowhere. In mass, in number, so many that Jordan’s ears almost curled at how polyphonic the sound was. So many sounds it created a perfect harmony. A three part chord.

Then they grew louder, punctuated by the sounds of boots and shoes on pavement. And when they looked towards their certain doom, they saw an onslaught. A mass of women, just charging. And quickly. Towards them. Specifically.

“NAMJOOON!!!” The crowd screamed.

“Oh that’s probs not lit” Jordan said.

Before she knew it, Namjoon was yanking her away and they were running.

Jordan didn’t like Jordan.

———

Bria looked to Yoongi, “Yo, fam, your hands.”

He pulled his hands up, examining them closely, “I guess I do have hands.”

———

Now, it wasn’t like Kobi intended to make joining high stakes video game tournaments part of their lore, but at a certain part in your very secretive relationship with the most talented artist on the planet, you start to make dumb decisions. Maybe because their relationship being a secret is like a plot point? But also not because Kobi is perfect lmao who am I kidding.

Anyways, they HADN’T gone to fuck in a hotel. Joke’s on you. They decided to hang out and do South Korean stuff because Kate wanted to experience where Hoseok lived and all that dumb stuff. She’d been there before, but not like this.

And definitely not when they were high key gaining traction because they were like artist of they year or whatever.

So they went and did dumb stuff. Until the ended up agreeing to play in a Mario Kart tournament. They were both quite competitive and actually really good at Marip kart. Though, Kate had the upper edge because she was a fucking beast with Yoshi on the motorcylce, but Hoseok wouldn’t really own up to that one ever.

They played a few rounds, easily surpassing the newbies who thought simple drifting would get them to first place alone. How naive of their young souls. Then eventually they ended up a little further up. Nudging each other after every match because holy shit they were better than South Korea’s best. Which is insane. South Korea has got mad skills in the video game department.

But eventually it came down to the semi-finals.

And Hoseok sat down with the guy he was against and Kate sat down to play against the random chick she was against. And you knew for a fact that they were going to have to eventually play each other ofc, but we’ll Dave that for later.

———

The crowd was gone. Dissapted in a thorough stampede towards Namjoon. For which, Tawni felt only a slight pang of guilt. Firstly because she sent a hoarde of fully energized fansites against Jordan, but also because she made the decision sans Jungkook’s guidance. Not that she had time to seek it out or anything, or that the decision was bad itself, but Tawni was a pro at beating herself up over dumbass details so here she was.

They had pulled their hoods over their faces and escaped quickly into Seoul’s more forgiving city streets. In fact, there was a little drizzle right then. Just slight raindrops across the fabric of their hoods, and a dampness in the air that they breathed. It might have been spring break, but it was still pretty chilly, even a whole 24 hour flight away it was chilly. So Tawni could see her breath as she let Jungkook tug her through alleys and streets.

She knew he liked to take pictures and be some dumbass artistic bitch because he was good at literally everything for no reason, so he roamed the streets of this city on occasion with his own hood up and a fake name to give when he eventually stopped to order ice cream. But right now it was apparent that he knew these streets. He dragged her along until he saw a little late night noodle shop, and pulled her inside, snatching his phone as soon as he did.

“Kookie, I’m sorry about-“ Tawni started.

But he cut her off, “No, it was hilarious. Namjoon’s gonna kick my ass, but it’s so worth it.”

Well, at least she knew he was seriously because he lit up like a little bunny rabbit. Smiling with mischief because, yeah it was a little fucked, but also oa little fun. The thrill of getting caught. The thrill of sending a hoarse of random women after Namjoon.

Serves him right for getting mad when everybody suggested an acoustic version of Expensive Girl.

But after a couple of seconds on his phone, Tawni realized that not all was fun and games.

“Come on, we definitely shouldn’t stand around.” Tawni raged Jugnkook towards the noodle bar.

Luckily, Tawni was a master at Duolingo and Memrise, and had managed to fully finish out the food ordering portion of the apps which comes directly before the “how to speak to wise owls in Korean” but after “deciphering basic prophecies” and “colors” so she was well versed, but nowhere near fluent.

But noodle ordering - totally okay.

She ordered them two bowls in extremely broken Korean. The woman behind the counter looked to Jungkook on more than one occasion during Tawni’s epic struggle, but he seemed eight feet buried in his phone, so he was no help whatsoever.

But, after multiple interpretations of the woman thinking Tawni was ordering “gay bear noodles” instead of sesame bulgogi, they got their food and sat down.

“What’s the problem,” she asked very carefully.

Jungkook bit his lip, “So I guess Kobi aren’t at a hotel?”

“She’s really not tapping that right now? Damn.” Tawni took a bite of definitely not gay bear noodles.

“it’s hard to hook up in hotels for us. Everybody knows our face and we have to show it so they can identify us.” Jungkook explained, not even touching the noodles Tawni had walked through hell and high water to order. “But there’s also Taehyung … I guess he-“

Then they turned their heads to the sound of a sudden flashing.

———

Like Pascal, guiding his boat through a treacherous storm, they dove into safe shelter, Jordan taking Namjoon with her as they glided underneath an overpass.

They palstered themselves against cold stone walls and just took in long, labored breaths. They didn’t want to risk breathing too loudly and alerting anyone to their location. And a few seconds later, they heard the terrible sounds of clattering boots against cement.

But they grew louder, and louder, and louder. The screams of excited young Korean women filled their ears. Over took their senses until suddenly they were duller, quieter, and became distant. In a second, the hoard had passed, moving on to the green pastures of wherever it was they decided that may be. Not Namjoon certainly, since he was heaving against a brick wall next to Jordan.

“Yo that was intense. I saw my life flash before my eyes.” Namjoon exhaled.

Jordan nodded. “So since you leaned close to death have you changed your mind about that acoustic version of expensive girl?”

Namjoon glared, “I decided I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Understandable.” Jordan nodded, “have a nice day.”

But then her phone rang.

Jordan’s, not Namjoon’s.

Oh shit I guess the pronouns gave that away wtf. Anywys. Shit. Anyways. Jodan’s phone rings and she’s like

“Yo, what up, It’s J-Dumpster. Can I help?”

There’s low breathing on the other end of the line, breathing sh recognizes as Seokjin’s so she pulls the phone from her face and hits the speaker phone button like any middle aged soccer mom might do if her fully grown son had called her.

“Please.” Seokjin said softly. “Taehyung’s gone.”

Namjoon leaned in closer to the phone. “First of all, bitch, why didn’t you call me? Secondly, I’m sure Taehyung’ sfine. He’s probably getting ready to make chalk murals in Busan right now.”

Seokjin’s breathing became heavier, “I can’t talk. Just. He’s not safe. Send-“

The signal cut off.

Namjoon straightened himself out.

Jordan didn’t. “He’s joking, right?”

Namjoon looked steely. Like Jensen Ackles. Or Christian Bale as Batman, he looked steely cold.

“Seokjin doesn’t joke.”

———

Kate had finished her match in record time. As to be expected from the best Mario Kart player in the whole universe. She finished with no problems. Coasting through the course and even hitting those treacherous Canyon glider sections with precision and ease.

Even Hoseok finished as well. Not as well, obviously. He took one fall on Bowser’s Castle, but luckily the guy he was playing against was also a little bit clunky and ate it on one of those ghost brick things. When he won, everybody knew because he jumped into the air, popping and screaming and hollering like Hoseok does. And when he was finished, dashed back to the board to see …

“Wait, what?” Hoseok asked, turning in confusion.

He saw that Kate’s name had been advanced to the finals but not his. In fact, both his name and the guy he was playing against were marked out on the enormous inflatable velcro board they had put shit on. Why they didn’t use a white-board, I have no idea, but this is South Korea so they take their e-sports seriously.

“You’re disqualified,” A man said.

He appeared from shrouded darkness, a familiarity too him as he stood in the open light now. The overhead lighting cast shadows against his face and Hoseok squinted like … Maybe he’d seen him before. Some other time. Some other place. Some other … life.

“What?” He asked, “I didn’t … Wait, do I know you?”

“I am Byun Baekhyun. King of all gamers here in Korea.” He narrowed his eyes, “You may be a more famous idol than me in this realm, but you made the mistake of stepping foot in here. Where I have all the control.”

“What? You’re an idol?” Hoseok stepped forward, lowering his voice, “Listen, Don’t-don’t tell anybody who I am, okay? I can’t get caught out with a girl or else all 10 million girls following my twitter account will have me thrown into the ocean or something.”

Baekhyun didn’t respond for a moment, tugging the dark, thick cloak I just decided he was wearing tighter to his body. He seemed to contemplate the sentence for longer than necessary, the sounds of impatience ringing in his ears.

“Accept an unrightfully disqualification.” He whispered.

Hoseok stepped back, shifting the mask on this face as he looked around and pulling his ball cap further down. I was gonna give him a bucket hat to be In Character™ but like I decided since this is my universes, I can do whatever the fuck I want and I want no balenciaga’s or bucket hats in this universe. ACTUALLY LOVE YOURSELF HASNT COME OUT YET SO HE DOESNT EVEN HAVE THE MONEY FOR BALENCIAGAS SO ITS CANONICALLY CORRECT

Anyways

“No!” Hoseok stifled his voice, “I won fair and square. I can’t just let Kate take the title.”

“Wow, you’re a shitty boyfriend,” Baekhyun rolled his eyes, “But fine, I’ll just post on our Facebook page that you and her were here. Playing Mario Kart. Together.”

Hoseok bit his lip. “Okay, fine. I’m disqualified. Just don’t post any pictures.��

Baekhyun clapped his hands.

Just then, as if it was written that way, Kate bounded up to them. JK I don’t bound places. I dissolved into the air next to Hoseok like a badass.

“Whaddup”

“Congrats!” Hoseok shouted, “I uh … I got disqualified so you win.”

Kate turned to him with furrowed brows. “You got disqualified? For why?”

He tugged his collar, “I uh … I used cheat codes. I’m sorry.”

Kate didn’t really believe it but hey, “So yeah, I’m the best bitch at Mario kart then.”

“Well,” Baekhyun chuckled, “Not exactly. You would have to defeat the reigning champion for that.”

“Reigning Champion my ass,” Kate said, “I’ll whoop their ass, lemme at ‘em”

“A CHALLENGER!” Baekhyun exclaimed, flinging his arms open so his dark cloak spread wide like wings of blackened angel. He then slowly took his phone out of one of the folds. “Let me call him real quick tho.”

———

“Listen to this,” Yoongi held up a finger, looking very seriously.

“Fam, I’ve been listening.” Bria laughed.

“Good,” Yoongi paused for 35 seconds before slowly reaching over and pressing a key on his keyboard.

A single Eb note rang out followed by silence.

“Shit,” Bria exhaled, “That’s genius.”

———

Now you see, Tawni’s a photographer. She knows intimately how cameras work … or at least, she knows enough. Enough to get how white balance functions.

White balance is not, contrary to popular belief, the balance of power that keeps white folk as the oppressors because they were too pale to deal with the sun and had to creat their own toughness.

White balance is actually how a camera determines color and lighting. Meaning that if a dark tone is set as white because there’s very little white in the photo, it will balance the photo out color and lighting wise to fit. However, if there’s too much white and light tone is set, it will blow out the photo and make it basically a white blur of incomprehensibility.

It’s also important to note most people set their white balance on auto which does not handle sudden change well

Meaning that when Tawni yanked the table cloth up off the very nice table in the noodle shop they were eating, the fanzine’s cameras couldn’t adjust in time, and the photos instantly became … white blurs.

Which gave them just enough to -

“Run!”

“Again??” Jungkook looked surprised, “I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Listen, I love food too, but we have got to go, bitch.” Tawni stood up from the table, still shrouded by the falling cloth.

Cameras continued to flash as Jungkook looked longingly at his bowl on noodles.

“COME ON!” Tawni shouted.

Jungkook grabbed the noodles and they bolted.

It didn’t take long for the horde of fansites to lose them as well. Which was a bummer because they’d lost Jungkook and Namjoon in one day. Which is tough because Jungkook is very large and Namjoon is very slow so they aren’t usually easy to lose.

But Tawni and Jungkook had made themselves at home in a very, very tiny alley way. The space was just thin enough for both of them to slide into side by side, the cold, damp brick of soeul buildings holding them both upright. Jungkook was scoping noodles into his mouth by the truck fulls and Tawni’s not extremely athletic so she was catching her breath.

“Sorry,” Jungkook shoveled noodles in-between muffled words, “This is a shitty first date.”

“First date?” Tawni asked, “You mean us seeing Justin Bieber was like a pregame or?”

Jungkook laughed, swallowing the last of his noodles, “As long as you don’t hate Korea because of me, then it’s fine.”

“I could never hate Korea. You’re here.” Tawni, the dumbest person ever, said.

Jungkook lit up a little, lowering his bowl, “Okay, but you’re catching it at a really good time it’s not always like this.”

“What do you mean?” Tawni cocked her head, “What’s different about it right now?”

“You’re in it …” He smiled goofily.

And I won’t even pretend they were gonna lean in and kiss bc y’all bitches know that shit ain’t happening until at least he comes back to America.

But his phone did ring. And he picked it up, eyes widening as he got zero words in. The chatter on the end of the line was rapid and demanding until it burned out, just barely letting him speak.

“Now?” He got out.

“Now!” The other person yelled.

The call ended.

“So uh … your mom?” Tawni asked.

Jungkook looked wide-eyed and bewildered. “We have to get back to the dorms. Taehyung’s missing.”

Tawni rolled her eyes, “Are you for real? I’m sure he’s rescuing puppies in Gwangju right now. Can’t we stay out a little longer? Do they really need you?”

Jungkook looked unamused, “This is my career, Tawni. Seriously, let’s go.”

———

Namdan and Tawkie arrived at almost the same time to the dorms.

Namjoon slammed the elevator buttons, breaking through to the other side and sighing as he did so.

“Gonna have to put that on the list,” Jungkook said softly.

“Yeah,” Namjoon glared at him, “I’ll put it on the fucking list.”

He reached up as the elevator started and took a pen from a holder to write on a yellow pad of paper pasted to the inside fo the dorm elevators. He scribbled:

Sorry, broke three more buttons. Please take from my next paycheck - Joonie

Jordan raised her eyebrows, “That’s …”

“Don’t.” Namjoon held up a hand.

When they got to the dorms, they found it in disarray. It hadn’t been cleaned when Jimin and Seokjin got back. In fact, there was more damage if that was possible. Jimin was sitting on the couch, staring at his phone, but when they arrived, he immediately stood up.

“Hey!” Jimin scratched his neck, “Uh, nice of you to rendez-vous. Seokjin’s not feeling well so if you could-“

“I need to talk to him.” Namjoon stated, walking over towards his room, but Jimin leapt in front of him.

“You really don’t!” Jimin said, sweat on his brow.

“Move, Jimin.” Namjoon said softly, “Or we will move you.”

Jimin swallowed. “You can’t move m-“

Jungkook promptly lifted Jimin up off the ground and slung him over his shoulder. They five of them, four willingly, and one squirming on Jungkook’s shoulder which Tawni wished she was, but wasn’t, made their way to Yoongi and Jin’s room at the end of the hall.

“No!” Jimin shouted, “You don’t want to do this!”

They passed the studios which exist in the dorms in this universe because I realized there was a major plot hole and idk how to handle that so I just decide that it’s not the way it is lmao. Then walked up to the room where Namjoon looked to the others as he reached for the doorknob.

“Fine!” Jimin yelled, clenching his jaw and adopting a serious demeanor. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Namjoon opened the door.

And on the other side was Jin. Laying face up, covered in ramen.

“What the fuck.” Jordan said, pinching her nose.

Like we’re talking, fully cooked and seasoned packets of instant ramen, but like sixty of them, because only his head, hands and feet appeared out of places in the mound of stringy noodles. His face was gaunt, pale and worn in from stress and neglect. His eyes were hollow as they stared up at the ceiling and his mouth was just repeatedly mouthing I don’t give a shit I don’t give a fuck over and over, yet no noise came out.

“Oh boy,” Namjoon looked to the others, “Let me handle this.”

He walked past the threshold and the minute his foot hit the floor beyond the door Jin halted his chant. Namjoon took another tentative step inside and Jin slowly, in the way a body might rise from the dead, tilted his head up to look at Namjoon.

Jin spoke with a high accent, one entirely made up as well. “Oh! It’s my betrothed come back from war. Lydia, how I’ve missed your face.”

“Not … Lydia.” Namjoon said slowly, shaking his head and taking more careful steps across the room towards the pile of noodlejin.

Jin followed him intently with his eyes but remained motionless as he rounded to come squat by his side. “Oh Lydia, how are the valkyries fairing these days? I hope you haven’t fought too hard, my love.”

“Still not Lyida,” Namjoon sighed, falling into a cross-legged position next to Jin and letting out a sigh, “Or a valkyrie for that matter.”

Jin didn’t respond, mouthing nonsense for just a moment until his gathered something else in his jumbled brain. “Lydia, you’re frightening me.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Alright, I’m Lydia. Yo, whaddup, Lydia in the house.”

Jin smiled, “Ah, Lydia. How I’ve missed your humor. Always the trickster you. However, I do have to admit that things have no been well in your absence. The Kingdom is in disarray.”

“How so?” Namjoon asked.

“We’ve lost a squire, Kim Taehyung. You may remember him. He was always a bit odd. But he’s been taken from us. I fear,” Jin looked back towards the ceiling with his hollow eyes, “For the worst.”

“The worst?” Namjoon asked, “What do you mean?”

Jin shook his head. Denying any further comment.

“Come on, Jin. Tell me.”

Jin looked to Namjoon, but kept his mouth shut, turning back to the ceiling. “It’s unspeakable.”

Namjoon let his head fall, staring down at his feet for a moment. This has only happened once before. When Hoseok got sick off of a dish Jin made, he wrapped himself in carefully deconstructed bento boxes and called himself Mr. Roboto for 36 hours until eventually Namjoon snapped him out of it.

“Jin. I need you back, buddy. I know you’re blaming yourself for whatever happened but you can’t make multiple personalities every time something goes wrong that you decide is your fault.”

Jin sighed, “Lydia … I fear I am too far gone.”

“Jin.” Namjoon looked him in the eyes. “They named somebody else World Wide Handsome.”

There was a moment of silence.

Then Jin snapped up, the mound of noodles slopping away and spilling into Namjoon’s lap as Jin sat up wearing a t-shirt and boxers. “Hold the fucking phone, bitch, what?”

Jungkook shook his head, “I don’t know how Namjoon does it.”

———

“Alright, so Taehyung’s been kidnapped.” Jin said, pointing a stick at 20 pieces of printer paper Jimin and Jungkook had taped to the wall and scribbled details of a plan on. “By some sort of high risk Korean gang. They left me a voicemail saying we can come with four bajillion won by ourselves tomorrow at noon to these coordinates.” He slapped the stick to a poorly drawn image the resembled Apple Maps and a pin where the coordinates led. “Or they’ll send a real ransom to bighit.”

“Oh,” Jimin leaned back on the couch, “That’s fine. Let the authorities handle it once they send a ransom, he’ll be fine.”

“There’s more.” Jin cleared his throat, “They’ll send his nudes to AllKPOP.”

“Shit,” Namjoon breathed, “We gotta make that drop tomorrow.”

“But we don’t have four bajillion dollars.” Jungkook noted, leaning up from the tiny armchair that he and Tawni had crammed themselves into. “And we don’t know where Kate, Hobi, Bria, or Yoongi are either.”

“Oh, well,” Jimin raised his hand, “Yoongi’s here actually.”

———

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Jin held three fingers to Yoongi’s face.

Yoongi concentrated on his fingers for a very, very long time before breaking down into laughter, “These are Jin’s hands, not Hoseok’s!”

Bria leaned forward and grabbed Jin’s hand. “You’re right! What the fuck, this buzzfeed quiz is so hard!”

“Next one!” Yoongi leaned back in his chair.

Jin nodded, “Yeah, they’re gone.”

“Gone with the wind,” Yoongi said softly, “A good novel.”

“I want to see the movie,” Bria said too, “Should we go?”

“Shit, right now?” Young looked at his bare wrist, “The movie theaters don’t open until noon here.”

“Oh, we have an hour or two,” Bria settled back in the couch to wait.

Jungkook looked between them, “It’s 10 PM, guys.”

Yoongi scrunched his eyebrows together before bringing his wrist back up and looking at it more closely, “You’re definitely wr-“

Namjoon burst out, “THERES NO WATCH ON YOUR WRIST YOONGI!!”

“Cool!!” Jin and Jungkook grabbed Namjoon and pulled him back and to the other side of the studio. They held him firmly as he thrashed, random and uncontrollable rage taking his body suddenly.

“Cool!” Jin yelled, “Stay cool!”

Namjoon took a slow deep breath. “You’re right man, we gotta figure this out.”

“Yeah, we found two. We just need one more couple and then we’re good. We can figure out how to retrieve Taehyung in the morning and-“ Just then Jungkook’s phone rang and he took the call, stepping away for a moment and plugging one ear.

“Actually,” Jimin said, “If we can find Hoseok and Kate then I think I have a plan for getting Taehyung back. But we need all hands on deck.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nodded even though he was on a phone call so nobody could hear him, “I’ll be there in ten.”

Everybody looked at him as he turned back to address the crowd, suddenly calm. “So … I know where Kate and Hoseok are. But I have to be the one that gets them.”

“I’ll go with.” Tawni said.

Namjoon agreed, “Good idea, if he’s dressed up and with a girl nobody will suspect it’s Jungkook.”

“Hey, I’m-“

Jimin interrupted Jungkook, “And we can stay here and prepare for getting Taehyung tomorrow. But we’re gonna need lots and lots of black clothing.”

“Shit,” Yoongi laughed from the couch, “That’s crazy. I have lots of black clothing.”

Jordan nodded, “Let’s get cooking.”

#chapter 13

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ourtown-rp-blog · 7 years

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Welcome to the game, AUTUMN ABRAMS! Your application was successful, and we’re excited to begin writing alongside you, Dragon. Please read over our checklist before sending in your link, which you should do within 24 hours!

IT’S ALL ABOUT YOOOOU ( ooc ) ♪

MAIN ALIAS: Dragon

PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 25+

ACTIVITY LEVEL: 7/10

WHO YOU PLAYIN’ ?

FULL NAME: Autumn Mae Abrams

PRONOUNS: she/her

FACECLAIM: Daisy Ridley

AGE/BIRTHDAY: 22, December 23

ORDER: fifth

TYPE*: I don’t mind if someone else wants to play her, so twins is fine with me.

ORIENTATION: Pansexual/Panromantic

THAT’S WHAT I GO TO SCHOOL FOR ♬

delete this section if they’re not in school!

HIGH SCHOOL: N/A

COLLEGE: Arkansas

GRADE: Junior

MAJOR/MINOR: Musical Theory / Sound Engineering

ALL WORK AND NO PLAY ☆

all should work, whether they’re in school or not.

EMPLOYMENT STATUS: Part Time

WORKPLACE: Arkansas campus coffee shop / modeling company

POSITION: barista / nude model

HOW LONG?: 2 years

WHO WILL I BE, IT’S UP TO ME ( ic ) ♪

Autumn Mae Abrams, one of the five Abrams children, smaller, dark haired, gorgeous without fault, secretive, and above all else.. odd. From the very beginning, Autumn did things a little differently than the rest of the people she knew. Where most kids crowded around the jungle gym in the playground, or picked up a ball at recess to play kickball, Autumn liked to sit on the bench and read comic books. Actions figures took the place of video games, and to most, they believed the girl to be a little.. weird. Of course, her mother always told her that being eccentric was good, that it made her different, and what made you different was what made you strong. Through everything, Autumn didn’t really care. The space ships, aliens, and super heroes in her comic books created a world for her, one she could escape to when things got too weird, or the kids picked on her a little too hard. Like the good parents that they were, Autumn’s mom and dad tried to find somewhere that their daughter would fit. Soccer, t-ball, even a few dance lessons, but, none of them suited the little girl. Her awkward limbs and inability to focus on anything made it abundantly clear that sports wouldn’t ever be the key to pulling her out of his own little world. They almost gave up hope for her, Autumn destined to be that weird little girl, until they heard her banging on the pots and pans in the kitchen while helping with dinner one night. The shrill notes and the obvious tempo and rhythm she had, the Anderson’s knew what and where their girl belonged.

After that night, Autumn was practically thrust into every single music lesson that they could find for her. Piano, guitar, the drums, and a few other silly instruments slowly but surely pulled her out of the safe and weird world Autumn liked to get lost in more often times than not. She showed great promise and skill, so, she actually liked it. There wasn’t much that could pull her away from a first edition, episode one Superman comic, but, the way her fingers would fly across the guitar strings drew her out and kept her away. The comic books and action figures were safety nets, things she knew she could control, things she knew would always be there for her. But, as she discovered the greatness of music, Autumn learned that he didn’t really need the books to fall back on, or the action figures to keep her company, she had a much better alternative. Like most people with an obsession, though, she started to put all her time into the music, and everything that went along with it. The old vintage records that laid in her father’s study were listened to on repeat, The Beatles and The Stones becoming two of her biggest inspirations. Heading into school, she could be spotted with a thick pair of headphones on, Autumn once again lost in her own little world.

When high school rolled around, Autumn started to branch out a little bit, her music skills drawing a few of her own kind of people in; the silent nerds that had a whole lot of pent up words and emotions to share with everyone. A few of her friends banded together to start up a little band, one that they kept together until the last couple months of high school. She also discovered that she could sing, that among her talent for the strings and bass drum, Autumn had a damn good voice, which only added to the appeal that her nerdy little band had on people. As the years passed, and her dreams got a little bigger, Autumn decided that she was going to head out to California, she was going to find someone that wanted to listen to her play, someone that enjoyed music and her passion for it just as much as she did. While her parents encouraged it, they also wanted her to go to college, but, like most kids that age, Autumn didn’t listen to them. The time for college application deadlines passed, SATs were already taken, and letters of recommendation weren’t filled out. If she wanted to change her mind, it was already to late, and at that time, Autumn didn’t care. She had good enough grades that if she really needed to, she could try and apply to one of the California schools after her first year there.

Graduation came and went, the girl happy that he managed to survive the dreaded four years that not everyone did. After a long summer spent listening to her parents try to convince her to wait a year, and save up some money, Autumn set off for the LA, a dream in her heart, hope in her eyes, and a couple of bags on her back. She believed that her talent and skill would help her make it, that she wouldn’t have to struggle like she heard most people did. Autumn wanted nothing more than to prove people wrong, to show them that she was going to make it big. But, day after day, and those days turning into months, she quickly realized that every person around her hoped for the same thing, to be discovered, to make their dreams come true. The money was coming to an end pretty fast, the work was little to none, and her hopes were dropping down deeper and deeper as the days passed by her. This meant she needed to return to Cotton Plant after only a year. Finally, after having to struggle to find change for a cup of coffee, Autumn got herself a job at the coffee shop on Arkansas’ campus after enrolling. The money sucked, and she couldn’t spend nearly as much time as she wanted to trying to find someone to take a look at her work, but, at least she was surviving.

Something weird happened the winter after her arrival home, something that would.. ultimately change her life. An older man, one that was handsome in his own way, and a dedicated costumer, started to take a liking to Autumn. Her conversation about all things superheroes, and her passion for music drew the guy in. At first, Autumn found it sort of weird, the attention she was getting from the older man. A ten dollar tip on a three dollar drink, little notes left on the receipts. She couldn’t tell if the guy was just being friendly, or, if he was really hitting on her like Autumn thought he was. It all came to head one evening after a few weeks of the occurrences. The man stuck around until Autumn got off, and approached her, asking her for her number, and promising a call soon. Soon seemed like five minutes later, her phone buzzing wildly in her pockets as she made her way back to her mediocre little apartment. From that day on, things started to change for Autumn. It was like.. the guy was courting her. He didn’t ask for sex, or even affection, all things were paid for, and all he wanted was to have Autumn on his arm. It weirded her out slightly, but, how could a struggling musician look a gift like Dorian’s as anything other than that.. a gift? She couldn’t, and she didn’t.

For weeks, she accompanied the man to functions and fundraisers.. to shows and dinners. She wore fine dresses and nice heels, but, never got to show her appreciation in any way. When she got tired of always being the toy, and never anything more, she tried to start something with the older man, her hand wandering below the belt for the first time since they started to go out with each other. It was then that she realized that.. the man in fact believed her to be some sort of.. escort. Autumn felt humiliated, and slightly betrayed, but, quickly calmed down when the guy offered her a job. Being a pretty big producer in the pornography industry, Dorian had been showing her off to colleagues and business investors, looking around for jobs for her to do. Of course, Autumn struck down actual porn the minute he mentioned it, but, the naked modeling.. she could do that. So, along with her daily job at the coffee shop, and the random and odd little gigs she managed to land herself, Autumn started to work for Dorian’s company, settling into photo shoots every couple of weekends, each one earning her enough money to save, to spend, and to eventually move her into the a small house, one she’d been longing to have since she lived here the first time. Autumn has finally found herself completely comfortable in life.

#accepted #ourtownautumn

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acuppellarp · 6 years

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We’re excited to announce that MC has decided to level up Reggie Clifton from a mumu minor character to a main character! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: MC + he/him/himself Age: not so freshly 25 now Timezone: PST Ships: Reggie/Chemistry Anti-Ships: Reggie/Forced, Reggie/Not Being Gay

IC INFO

Full Name: Regina “Reggie” María José Cliffton Face Claim: Victoria Moroles Age/Birthday: 23/January 14th, 1995 Occupation: Student at Culinary Institute of Education, Medicinal Budtender Personality: Adventurous, Reserved, Cynical, Humorous, Ambitious Hometown: Carolina Beach, North Carolina

Bio:

Rodrigo Águila and Gina Cliffton had a whirlwind romance that didn’t make sense, but didn’t matter because they had each other. Or so they assumed. They met during Gina’s year abroad to Brazil. She had been invited by some friends she made down there to go to a concert for a rock band from Mexico. They were getting a large following in South America and were playing a secret show at a local bar. It was an intimate venue as it was on the down low. It was there that Gina couldn’t take her eyes off the dreamy bass player and singer. While Rodrigo couldn’t take his eyes off the girl in the crowd with the American-80s style who was dancing wildly and making eyes at him. They fell hard and fast, not caring about the logistics of their romance and going with what felt right. His band continued to gain fame, but instead of focusing on school, Gina went along with him. Their love was in the public eye, but it was nothing too major as Rodrigo’s band was still gaining traction.

However, once Gina became pregnant with their first child, things changed. Now their relationship was being scrutinized as Gina was a US citizen on a quickly expiring student visa, now pregnant out of wedlock with an up-and-coming musician’s child. They were’t constantly bombarded by those trying to snag the exclusive baby pics or pictures of Rodrigo and Gina together, but it was certainly more than before. Once their eldest, Octavia Águila , was born, the unwelcomed paparazzi starting coming around more, wanting to get the pictures of a growing rockstar’s child. Rodrigo didn’t mind the attention as getting public love and adoration was part of his dream, but Gina didn’t share the same sentiment. And she was quickly seeing the impact it was having on their four year old daughter who was often ready to fight people taking photos of them. So she told Rodrigo she was moving back to the US and that if he wanted to be a father, he could join them. He, however, did not.

Heartbroken but strong, Gina took Octavia back to the US to her home state of North Carolina. Originally from Charlotte but having been since disowned, Gina settled on a small town at the coast called Carolina Beach. For three years it was just a seven-year-old Octavia and her making the best of what they had, until the day Rodrigo showed up saying he wanted to be a father. A real one. And without hesitation, Gina took him back so they could start again. It was during their attempt at being domestic together that Gina got pregnant again barely a year later with Regina Águila-Cliffton, and Rodrigo promised he would be there for her this time. And for a few years, they did have a family. Rodrigo wanted them to move and find somewhere nicer, but Gina was determined that Carolina Beach was right for them. They didn’t need to have fancy things to be happy, and the cheaper they lived, the longer Rodrigo’s money from music would last. The four of them were making it work in a home together. Rodrigo clearly missed his music, but he had promised to make this work with Gina. But, as they say, all good things come to an end.

When Regina was 9, Rodrigo got a call from his old manager saying that the bassist that replaced him in the band was fired, leaving the slot open. They were about to go on an international tour, and if Rodrigo came, it would be the greatest publicity for the band he helped make. When he told Gina, she wanted to be happy, but she knew he would never be satisfied with fatherhood if he went. And so they were once again faced with the choice: his band or his family. Just as before, Rodrigo chose the former, leaving behind two children and a woman he loved yet came second to his music. Gina was able to get through the heartbreak this time, because she had two children to take of and deep down knew their love was doomed. But now she didn’t have the additional income to continue to do so with ease as she was only a maid for one of the bigger hotels in Wilmington. Her eldest daughter saw her struggling, and given she had just turned 18, she took it upon herself to leave home. It seemed like the logical step to Octavia, as she was an adult and would be one less mouth to feed, cloth, or worry about. Except she did it without telling anyone, simply leaving one night and never returning, knowing her mother would insist she stay due to not wanting to be abandoned.

It was having Octavia leave home that made Gina shut down for some time. Leaving a now freshly 10 year old Reggie to try and be an adult for the both of them. She learned to cook meals that would surely have leftovers, spend her time doing chores to keep their own home clean so her mom wouldn’t have to, she did her homework without being told to, and was able to keep a low profile. When Octavia was around, she was often causing problems with people whether it be fights, back talking authority, skipping out on school, or skipping out of town. Regina never liked that part about her sister, but her sister had also protected her. If someone picked on her, Octavia would be the first to get in their face. If Regina was frustrated and unsure of what to do, Octavia would tell her to breathe and not worry so much about the small stuff. She was even the one who came up with calling her Reggie instead of Regina, finding that it suited her much better. And Reggie was quick to agree, adopting the name, loving it instantly, and keeping it even after Octavia left home.

It was around this strange life transition that Reggie was old enough to do extra circulars. Being a kid already with a strong sense of responsibility, sports and team activities came naturally to Reggie. She loved getting to run around and clear her head of everything going on in her own life, never having difficulty focusing on the game at hand instead. Soccer quickly became her favorite one out of them all, though. She first started as a defender, managing to have quick feet that could steal a ball quicker than most could realize. Eventually as she got better, she could even kick a ball from midfield into a goal every now and then. Soccer made her feel unstoppable, and the many accolades she got added to that. Come high school she became a forward, and was frequently referred to as “the Rocket” for her leg power (though she had been calling herself that since she first started playing).

Aside from being gifted with strong sports ability, something that often got mentioned was the fact that Reggie was out and proud as girl who liked girls. She was sure about it at age 13 and came out to her mother first, and then made no effort to hide it even in a small town of only a few thousand people. It was the one thing about herself that Reggie was public about, as with having a famous father who she was estranged from made Reggie cautious about how others viewed her. It was luck that he was mainly famous in another country, but Reggie did not want to cause unwanted attention. She feared that their low-key life would be put in jeopardy if people knew who her dad was. And her mother did not need any added stress while she was trying to start and run her own cleaning business from home.

So Reggie tried hard to be the opposite of her sister– never missing school, keeping herself busy with nothing that would get her in trouble, avoiding altercations with others, and being self sufficient. She also dropped the Águila from her last name, even getting her mother’s blessing to make it a legal change so she could further distance herself from Rodrigo’s shadow. The only times Reggie found herself in trouble were when she would be defending others from the gay bashing that she saw. Unlike Reggie, most LGBTQ+ students in her school were closeted but still would be on the receiving end up slurs or violence. Reggie could handle insults directed towards herself, she was secure and strong in her convictions, but others didn’t need to be ragged on for who they were. Especially if they weren’t ready to be that person. Not everyone appreciated it as it certainly made the bullies seem right in their assumptions, but Reggie didn’t do it for the thanks or appreciation. That was just her sense of justice, and her hotheadedness that certainly existed.

Due to being so open and actively trying to protect others, it made Reggie often attract the girls that were curious to know what it was like to be with a girl, too. It became a cycle where she would get close to a girl, they’d become best friends, and then start to fall for each other. It was a dance and process that Reggie herself loved, and she fell into dating easily. The relationships were genuine as they would last months at a time, sometimes in secret, and sometimes not so secret. Some girls claimed it being a phase, others would only plead the fifth until they were ready to come out. It didn’t matter to Reggie though, she was just happy to be with girls and making them feel special. It was the romantic in her that kept her going rather than be discouraged by each break up.

Nearing the end of her sophomore year Reggie met Jenna “Jinny” Edwards after being paired together for a class project. Reggie had been single for a couple months and was feeling especially lonely, and Jinny was a girl that wasn’t unpopular nor popular. She was simply there. Much to both of their surprise, they got along right away and they progressed into summer romance territory. Jinny knew she was gay, but she was nowhere near ready to be out of the closet. Reggie having already gone through that before with others said she didn’t mind. Most of her relationships fizzled out eventually anyway, so it would be okay if she wanted to stay out of the public eye.

What was even more unexpected was the fact their relationship seemed to have no signs of stopping. Reggie was sincerely falling for Jinny, and Jinny for her. Things took a turn as Jinny’s family said they were moving to Wilmington at the start of the New Year, with Jinny going to attend a private school there instead. Rather than call it quits, Reggie promised they could and would make it work. So she would drive to Wilmington to hang out, trying to find places where they wouldn’t get caught making out or seen together as to avoid rumors circulating about Jinny’s sexuality.

It was rough, and hard, but Reggie loved Jinny and felt it was worth it. Especially once they made plans to go move to Evanston, IL together after high school. Reggie would work to get a soccer scholarship to Northwestern, and Jinny was going to attend Northwestern for their top notch Journalism program. They romanticized Illinois, deeming it would be the place they would finally get to truly be themselves and in love. Jinny would finally come out and they would be able to be seen in public together rather than avoid it. It made the sting of not getting to go to either of their proms together a little easier to manage. Especially once Reggie did get the soccer scholarship, making their future seem within their grasp.

Sadly, the hope for their forever plans to come true hit a snag the summer between graduation and their college years starting. Reggie and her high school soccer team decided to pool money together and take a rock climbing trip to Colorado together as one last group hoorah. While on their guided climb tour, the pulley holding Reggie up came loose from between the rocks as she tried to make a jump for a farther away ledge, causing her to fall 50 feet to the ground and rocks below. She was immediately rushed to the nearest hospital with doctor’s sure she wouldn’t make it through the next couple days. Somehow, Reggie did, but she was forever changed from that moment on due to having such a close brush with death. The biggest factor? She would never be able to play soccer again, which meant her scholarship was now an impossible dream. Suddenly, the somewhat optimistic Reggie started to see the world as a little darker and less beautiful.

With soccer no longer an option she was lucky that Northwestern still wanted her due to her academic background, but now her mom had no money. All of her college savings were being put forth in Reggie’s hospital bills and recovery. The idea of being in Illinois with Jinny now came to be a pipe dream, until the day Gina told Reggie that her father had offered to pay for her college education. Reggie instantly hated the idea, never wanting to owe anything to Rodrigo and feeling like he was trying to buy his way into their good graces. Still, Reggie knew that her going to college meant the world to Gina since she didn’t get to finish her degree. Not only that, but what else would she do? Go back home and wallow in her injury? No, college was expected from someone as bright as her, and she loved her mother too much to let her down as well. So she reluctantly accepted the offer, which put all her previous plans on track except for the fact she had months of recovery ahead of her.

With being such an active person her whole life, it didn’t take long for depression to settle inside of Reggie. She was angry at the world for taking away the rose-colored version of Evanston that Reggie had thought of for years. Ginny and her still moved in together, but it was nothing like they planned. Reggie was too in her own head, solely focused on everything she lost and feeling like a prisoner at a college she had wanted to go to before. But having her father’s money pay for her education tainted the whole thing for her. She picked a Chemistry degree because she was good at it, though had no passion for it which only added to her clouded view of the world. Ginny tried to be there for Reggie, but it was the first time the two of them were getting to be in their relationship out in the open. Yet Reggie seemed to want nothing to do with her as the process of recovery took its toll.

Reggie started to feel smothered, having never lived with anyone besides her mother and even she had hardly been home most of the time. Arguments started popping up more and apologies started happening less. They tried a whole school year to make it work before it finally hit a breaking point. Ginny couldn’t be with the person Reggie had become, and Reggie didn’t know how to stop being that person. Ginny transferred schools by the end of the next school year and Reggie never heard from or about the girl she dedicated three years of her life to again. The message was loud and clear though: the person Reggie had become wasn’t as easy to love. And perhaps that was true before given her many previously failed relationships. Thankfully, not everything in Illinois was dark and gloomy for Reggie. Nearing the end of her Physical Therapy, and a few months after losing Ginny, it was suggested she try giving dancing a shot as a way to strengthen her body.

Reggie was never big on listening to music, in part due to her father being famous for music and often associating it with him. But she was also simply a person who could appreciate the silence of the world and didn’t need it to be filled with something. Once she started to get into dance, her relationship with music changed completely. She started to notice the importance of lyrics and melody, how they could set a mood or evoke certain emotion. As she fell for the fun and freeing feeling of dance, she also fell for the joy of music. It helped having a physical vice to express herself with, and soon she was trying to learn how to move her body more and more both to make it stronger, and to find which style was the most her. It helped having music there to fill the void that sometimes her depression left, too.

Once she was able to walk without assistance due to the help that dance provided, Reggie looked into getting a job. She got hired as a waitress at Ten Mile House which wasn’t ideal, but it was money and she could take it. It was there she started to fool around with cooking after hours with some of the chefs she befriended. They’d make their own creations and rate them. She started brainstorming recipes she wanted to try and watching cooking shows to learn more. In time it became a genuine joy to go to work while college was the thing that dragged on for her. But Reggie was struggling with the pain that still lingered from her accident.

While she had painkillers, Reggie didn’t like taking them as she knew the risks associated with the pills. In an effort to provide an alternative on a particularly achy day, a coworker offered Reggie some marijuana-based creams he had for his own pain-related medical issues. They worked far better than the pills had, and were more natural and soothing. Having been an athlete all her life, Reggie never tried any kind of drugs as to ensure she would pass her physicals and get to continue playing. But now that was soccer was out the window, she had less reason to say no, especially when it truly helped her pain. As well as helped her mental state be less overwhelmed by life which was incredibly needed.

In an effort to still keep true to her word but get out of Evanston faster, Reggie took courses year round to get her degree in three years. At 21 she was a college graduate from Northwestern University which was something to be proud of, but mainly, she was just glad it was over with. Even if that meant she didn’t know what to do next. For a brief moment she considered going to grad school, figuring that would be the next expected step. But her boss at Ten Mile House said that he saw a potential in Reggie’s cooking. Deep down that thought meant more to her than she would admit, but she wasn’t sure about pursuing something she had never seriously done or even considered before. He recommended for her to apply for the Institute of Culinary Education in New York City. She went back and forth on it, not sure if she was ready to put faith in such an unknown thing. But after years of doing what she assumed was expected of her, Reggie allowed herself to give ICE a chance and was over the moon once the acceptance letter came in for her to start their Winter quarter. Suddenly her zest for life was coming back, finding solace in the idea of leaving the bad memories Illinois now held for her.

So once she was in New York, Reggie decided that instead of going for another restaurant job, she would look into the Cannabis industry jobs NYC had to offer. It had helped her immensely, and she wanted to try to help others with it. After checking around, one dispensary owner took to Reggie’s positive attitude about medicinal marijuana’s benefits. He offered her a position after she took the needed training course for certification as a Budtender. She was officially hired the next week and things started to fall into place. Reggie was sure that New York City would be a chance to reinvent herself into someone completely different. Someone nothing like the Reggie from Carolina Beach or from Evanston. One that didn’t form romantic attachments easily, one that would live her life with herself in mind instead of what everyone else assumed of her. Sure it was easier said than done, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. And if there was one thing Reggie Cliffton was not, it was that of a quitter.

After about half a year of living in NYC and a few months of working as a Budtender, one of Reggie’s regulars and her got to talking about soccer. Reggie mentioned how she used to play but hadn’t in many years though she missed it. The customer then mentioned how her granddaughter’s small business league team, the Mighty Morphin Flower Rangers, were looking for someone else to join them. While unsure at first, both because it sounded too good to be true and she hadn’t played in so long, Reggie eventually met the team. They liked Reggie instantly and even if she was rusty, she still had skill that they needed. Upon revisiting the sport she loved, Reggie knew she wasn’t going to pass the chance up to play again. She’s aware of the risk being taken by playing such a physical sport again, but she hadn’t spent all of those years strengthening her body for nothing.

Pets: None that live with her

Relationships:

SPENCER PORTER- The history between Reggie and Spencer goes back farther than either of them care to think about. What started as a small dislike between two 10 year olds in community league who didn’t like how the other played started to run deeper as time went on. Being two of the best players in their county and state, they often found themselves head to head in tournaments and high stress games. After high school they fell of each other’s radar so imagine the surprise and not-so-welcome wave of nostalgia that happened when discovering they both played on opposing teams in the same small business soccer league. The two are trying to keep their rivalry to only the field, though with their overly competitive natures, it’s hard to tell if it will stay that way

DANI HARPER/MATT SOLIS- After a few months of living in NYC, Reggie started to branch out at other small shops around the city and eventually found Acup. It was a slow day when she came in and behind the counter was a hot barista with A+ latte art skills named Matt. They hit it off right away, becoming friends quickly and by Reggie’s third visit, friends with benefits. A few weeks after that while waiting outside of Acup for Matt, Reggie saw a girl she had met only a couple nights before at the local gay bar, The Library. While she knew her name was Dani, she did not know she also worked at Acup until that moment. The two managed to keep a friendship (also with benefits) afterwards, with Dani being the optimist to Reggie’s own pessimistic view

TINA COHEN-CHANG- Never having been someone who grew up with a pet, or even a desire to get one, it only makes sense that Reggie co-owns a dog with someone. While out one night after winter classes, Reggie came across a shivering French Bulldog getting buried by the New York snow. Remembering she saw a vet clinic only a few blocks away, she grabbed the animal and made a mad dash on her skateboard to get him some help. Tina was there closing up the clinic though she opened it upon seeing someone frantically trying to get in with a pup-scile. They were able to warm him up and decided to name him Andrew Bernard Jr (thanks to a Cornell dog sweater that was in the clinic’s lost and found). While Andy lives with Tina, they co-parent him together.

HARPER CLARINGTON- Harper Clarington came out of left field for Reggie, but in one of the best ways possible. At least until Reggie found out her and Spencer were apparently an item. Still, Reggie was drawn to Harper’s quick wit and chill attitude, finding herself wanting to know her but not wanting to cross any lines. All of that went out the window the day Harper and Spencer broke off their semi-relationship, leading to Harper and Reggie to hook up only hours later. Rather than it be a night of passion, the two continued to both hang out and hook up together. While Reggie gave her her usual talk of “I like to keep things casual, I don’t do feelings” to Harper after sleeping together, the fact Reg constantly is willing to do whatever it takes to make Harper smile sure gives a different impression

EXTRA INFO

reg /@rocketpowerreg (private)/ if you don’t know me, don’t follow

Five latest tweets:

@rocketpowerreg: out of loyalty to my hometown’s boardwalk, i can neither confirm or deny that coney island is one of the coolest places in the world @rocketpowerreg: @scxutshonor where did the donuts i made for class go? also, answer your phone @rocketpowerreg: dimes are the worst. proof: they’re worth 10x more than pennies and 2x more nickles, but are smaller than both making them easiest to lose #downwithdimes @rocketpowerreg: if you can’t handle me at my running man, you don’t deserve me at my moonwalk @jpboogie @rocketpowerreg: actual conversation between me and an 85 year old customer- “what kind of joint pain are you having?” “the kind where i’m in pain and need a joint” #respect

#accepted #acup: level up

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