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crossfandomskylines · 14 days ago

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Mountain with a View

Pairing: Glen Powell (RPF) x Female Reader

Summary: Amid the beauty of a coastal getaway, years of neglect and unspoken pain come to a head as you confront Glen about the growing distance in your relationship. What begins as heartbreak turns into a moment of raw honesty as Glen opens up about his fears and regrets, and you acknowledge your own role in the cracks between you. With one final promise and a fragile hope for reconciliation, you take the first steps toward rebuilding, finding solace in the quiet reminder that love is worth fighting for.

Word Count: 8.5K

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing angst, and I think I did okay with it. This took me a little bit longer to write as I've been working on it for about a month or so. This is HEAVILY inspired by the song Mountain with a View by Kelsea Ballerini. I would love to know what you guys think!

The soft light of dawn spilled over the cliffs of Big Sur, painting the rugged coastline in hues of gold and pale pink. Through the open windows of the restaurant, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore filled the air, steady and unchanging, like a heartbeat. The faint smell of salt mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, creating a serene tableau that should have felt like paradise.

The table was elegantly set, each detail carefully curated to reflect the luxury of the resort. Crisp white linens draped over the small table, their edges fluttering slightly in the gentle morning breeze. A delicate vase held a cluster of fresh flowers—soft blues and creams that mirrored the morning sky—while the steam rising from the coffee in front of you curled lazily upward, dissipating into the air. Two empty plates sat perfectly aligned, their white porcelain gleaming in the sunlight.

But your gaze lingered on the chair across from you. Empty.

The untouched menu lay neatly folded beside the vacant place setting, its pristine edges catching the light as if mocking the silence that hung between you and the space meant for him. You glanced down at your own menu, holding it loosely in your hands, though the words blurred together. How many times had you reread the same description of avocado toast? How many times had you looked up, hoping to see him striding through the doorway, his usual easy confidence carrying him to you with a quick apology and a kiss pressed to your temple?

The coffee in your mug had gone lukewarm. You wrapped your hands around it anyway, seeking comfort in its weight, its fleeting warmth. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized the server was probably waiting for a sign that you were ready to order.

But you weren’t. Not yet.

This was supposed to be romantic. The thought came unbidden, sharp and bitter. You had envisioned something different for this morning—a quiet meal shared with him, stolen moments of intimacy as the rest of the world slowly woke. Instead, the carefully orchestrated perfection of the setting only made the absence feel heavier, more pronounced. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant crash of waves and the soft murmur of other diners scattered across the restaurant’s patio.

You set the menu down and traced a finger along the edge of the tablecloth, smoothing out an imaginary crease. The flowers in the vase shifted slightly in the breeze, their petals brushing against one another like a whisper.

And still, the chair across from you remained empty.

You lifted the mug to your lips, sipping the now-tepid coffee and willing the warmth to soothe the knot twisting tighter in your chest. But it didn’t. The weight of the empty chair across from you pressed heavier with each passing minute, and you couldn’t stop your thoughts from circling back to him.

You hadn’t heard from Glen since last night. A text around 9 p.m., short and vague, letting you know something had come up and he wouldn’t make it until today. No explanation, no details. Just: Sorry, won’t make it tonight. I’ll be there first thing tomorrow.

It was morning now, and tomorrow had become today, yet the chair in front of you remained unoccupied.

The unease gnawed at you, growing sharper with each passing second. This was his trip, his plan to reconnect, to prove that you both still had something worth holding onto. You hadn’t even asked for it; he’d been the one to insist you both needed a weekend away, somewhere beautiful and secluded, just the two of you. But now, sitting here alone at a table meant for two, it felt more like proof of how far apart you’d drifted than any sort of reconciliation.

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted softly, and you glanced up to see the waiter standing nearby, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. His smile was polite but edged with curiosity, his gaze flickering briefly to the empty chair before returning to you. “Are you ready to order?”

You forced a smile, the corners of your mouth tugging upward as if on autopilot. “I think I’ll give it a few more minutes,” you said, your voice light but strained.

The waiter nodded, his professional demeanor not faltering as he replied, “Of course. Just let me know when you’re ready.” He moved away, weaving between tables to check on a couple sitting near the edge of the patio.

You exhaled slowly and reached for your phone, unlocking it with a swipe of your thumb. There he was, smiling back at you from the screen.

The photos posted this morning were polished, curated to perfection: behind-the-scenes shots of Glen on set, his arm slung casually around his co-stars; selfies of him laughing with the crew in picturesque European locations; snapshots of stunning landscapes captioned with vague, charming quips. You scrolled through them, one after another, and felt the ache in your chest deepen.

The pictures looked pretty—at least they did on his Instagram.

The sting of it settled in your chest like a sharp, jagged stone. You didn’t even know exactly where he was right now. The last time you’d spoken, he’d mentioned Amsterdam, but that was weeks ago. For all you knew, he could’ve been halfway across the continent by now.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, and for a moment, you debated texting him. Where are you? But you didn’t. Instead, you scrolled further, past the carefully filtered moments that felt so far removed from the reality you were sitting in.

When was the last time you’d had a real conversation with him?

You thought back to your recent texts, the ones that had become increasingly generic, a hollow routine of pleasantries that no longer carried the weight of meaning. Good morning, babe. Goodnight, miss you. The words had once made your heart flutter, a reminder that he was thinking of you even from miles away.

Now, they just felt like muscle memory—sent out of obligation rather than genuine connection.

The memory of those texts brought a bitter taste to your mouth, sharper than the coffee you hadn’t touched in minutes. You set your phone down on the table with a quiet thud, your fingers curling into your lap as you tried to shake the growing resentment clawing its way up your throat.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

You stared out past the edge of the terrace, where the cliffs gave way to the water. The waves crashed below in a steady rhythm, their sound blending with the faint hum of conversation from the other tables. You tried to ground yourself in the moment, to let the beauty of the setting take the edge off the bitter thoughts swirling in your mind.

But the ache inside was relentless, and your mind wandered to a different time—a time when things with Glen had felt so much simpler, so much easier.

He used to surprise you with the little things. You could still picture the way he’d walk into the apartment with your favorite coffee in hand, the sleeve scribbled with some inside joke that made you laugh every time. Or the way he’d grab your hand in the middle of the week and say, “C’mon, we’re going somewhere,” without offering a single clue as to where you were headed. You’d end up at some hole-in-the-wall restaurant he’d found on Yelp, or sitting on a blanket in the park with a takeout box between you. He always made it an adventure.

And the way he looked at you back then… you felt like the center of his universe. Like there was no one else in the world who mattered to him the way you did. You remembered the way his eyes would light up when you walked into a room, the way he’d pull you close just to tell you how beautiful you looked, even when you were in sweatpants and an old hoodie.

He loved me so much more at twenty-three.

The thought hit you like a wave, pulling you under. A lot can change in six years, it seems.

You used to believe that love grew stronger with time. That the shared memories, the inside jokes, the challenges you overcame together would deepen your connection. But now, sitting here alone at a table meant for two, it felt like the opposite had happened.

You remembered the first time he told you he loved you. You’d been dating for a few months, and he’d taken you to a concert in the city. It had been raining that night, and you both ended up soaked to the bone, laughing as you ran from the venue to his car. Later, as you sat wrapped in his jacket with your hands cradling a steaming cup of tea, he’d looked at you and said it like it was the easiest thing in the world: “I love you.”

You’d believed him then. Completely, utterly, without hesitation.

But now, the words felt like a faint echo of something that had once been vibrant and alive. You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d said it in a way that felt real. Not over a text, not in the perfunctory way he’d sign off on a phone call—but the way he used to say it, with his eyes locked on yours like he meant every syllable.

You ran a hand through your hair, the weight of the memories pressing down on you. Maybe it wasn’t fair to compare the past to the present. Maybe this was just what happened in relationships over time. But that didn’t make the emptiness you felt any easier to bear.

The waiter passed by again, and you glanced at the empty chair. Your chest tightened. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to show up, to prove that this trip wasn’t just another empty promise. But as the minutes ticked by, the weight of his absence grew heavier, and the unease in your stomach gave way to something sharper—resentment, maybe.

Six years ago, he would’ve been here. Six years ago, he wouldn’t have let anything stop him.

And now? Now you weren’t sure what was left between you except memories of what used to be.

You let out a quiet breath, your gaze dropping to the untouched menu in front of you. Where did it all go wrong?

It wasn’t always like this—this hollow ache of waiting, of wondering. There was a time when Glen made you feel like you were his whole world. But now, it was like you were living in his orbit, watching him shine while you stood in the shadows, unseen and forgotten.

Your mind drifted back to the first time he missed something important. It wasn’t a big deal, not really. A dinner date that he had to cancel last minute because a meeting with a director ran late. You’d been disappointed, sure, but he made up for it the next night with takeout and your favorite movie. It felt like a one-time thing then—just a fluke in an otherwise perfect relationship.

But then it happened again. An anniversary he forgot until you reminded him the following morning. He’d scrambled to make a dinner reservation, his apology genuine but rushed. And then there was the weekend trip a few years back you’d planned together, the one you’d been looking forward to for weeks, canceled because he got called back to set for reshoots.

You told yourself it was temporary. That it wasn’t his fault. Glen was ambitious, and you admired that about him. He was chasing his dreams, and you wanted to support him.

But gradually, his career began to take priority over everything else—including you.

You remembered the first time you brought it up to him, years ago, around the time all the buzz for Top Gun: Maverick started. His career was taking off in ways neither of you had anticipated, and it felt like he was slipping away from you, one missed moment at a time.

“I just feel like…” you’d hesitated, trying to find the right words, “like we don’t see each other anymore. Like you’re always busy, and I’m just… here.”

He’d pulled you into his arms, his voice soft and reassuring. “I know, babe. I know it’s been a lot lately, but it’s just this project. Once it’s over, things will go back to normal. I promise.”

You wanted to believe him. And for a while, you did. But after the whirlwind press tour for Top Gun, there was another project. And then another. Each one bigger than the last. Each one demanding more of his time, his energy, his focus.

The promises he made—that things would slow down, that he’d have more time for you—started to feel like smoke slipping through your fingers. They were never meant to be kept, just empty words to soothe you in the moment.

The last year of your life had proven that. You could count on one hand the number of nights you’d spent together in the same place, and even then, his mind always seemed to be elsewhere. On a script, on a meeting, on whatever was waiting for him the next day.

Sitting at the table now, you wrestled with your emotions. Part of you wanted to believe that things could go back to the way they were, that the Glen you’d fallen in love with was still in there somewhere, waiting to come back to you. But deep down, you knew better. You couldn’t unring a bell. You couldn’t undo the years of distance that had grown between you.

The truth sat heavy in your chest, undeniable and cruel: Glen’s career wasn’t going to slow down anytime soon. And if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep waiting for him to choose you.

The sound of laughter from a nearby table broke your train of thought. You glanced toward the source, a young couple leaning into each other, their faces alight with the kind of joy you remembered so vividly from the early days with Glen.

You’d just decided to flag the waiter and order something when you heard footsteps approaching from behind.

“Sorry I’m late.”

His voice was smooth, polished, just like everything else about him. Glen always had a way of sounding like nothing was ever truly a big deal, like the world bent itself around his schedule and not the other way around.

You glanced up as he slid into the seat across from you, looking every bit the Hollywood leading man. His perfectly tousled hair caught the soft morning light, and his tailored shirt looked as though it had been pulled straight off a magazine cover. He flashed you the charming smile that used to make your heart race, but now it only made your stomach twist.

“You know how crazy things can get,” he added with a casual shrug, as if the excuse alone should absolve him.

You managed a tight smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I know.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, as Glen picked up the menu. You couldn’t help noticing the faint scent of his cologne, subtle but sharp, lingering in the air. It was the same one he’d worn for years, a scent that used to comfort you. Now it just felt distant, like a memory you couldn’t quite hold onto.

“So,” Glen began, his tone overly light, “how are you liking the trip so far?”

You glanced up at him, your fingers tightening around your coffee mug. “It’s fine.”

“Fine?” He raised an eyebrow, setting the menu down. “Come on, this place is amazing. I thought you’d love it.”

“It is amazing,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. You looked out the open window, watching the waves crash against the cliffs in the distance. “I just… I guess I thought we’d be seeing more of it together.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than you meant them to be. Glen shifted in his seat, picking up his water glass and taking a long sip.

“You know how things are,” he said, his tone apologetic but dismissive all the same. “This shoot’s been nonstop, and they’re already talking about reshoots next month. But I wanted us to have this time together, even if it’s just for a couple of days.”

“Right,” you murmured, forcing yourself to focus on the vase of fresh flowers between you. White lilies, delicate and pristine.

The clink of silverware against plates at a nearby table filled the silence. You glanced over at Glen, noting the way he avoided meeting your eyes for too long. He folded his hands in front of him, his polished watch catching the light, and for a moment, it felt like you were sitting across from a stranger.

He cleared his throat, forcing a smile. “So, what looks good here? Have you looked at the menu yet?”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “The avocado toast looks nice.”

“Avocado toast,” Glen repeated with a chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re so predictable.”

It was the kind of teasing that used to make you laugh, the kind that felt endearing. But now it felt different—like he was poking at a version of you he hadn’t taken the time to know in years.

You traced the rim of your coffee mug with your finger, searching for something to say, but nothing came. The silence grew, filled only by the distant crash of waves and the hum of other diners’ conversations.

Finally, Glen flagged down the waiter, ordering for both of you without so much as a glance in your direction. You didn’t correct him, even though you’d changed your mind about what you wanted.

The breakfast felt quiet and suffocating. Every bite of food tasted like nothing, every glance Glen threw your way felt like it came from someone miles away. You wanted to bridge the gap, to say something that would pull him back to you, but the words caught in your throat.

Instead, you focused on the details. The clink of his fork against his plate. The way he scrolled through his phone when he thought you weren’t looking. The half-empty coffee cup he didn’t bother finishing. And the way he kept glancing at his watch, like there was somewhere else he’d rather be. Somewhere else he probably was already planning to go.

Glen’s fork scraped against his plate as he finished the last bite of his omelet. You’d barely touched your avocado toast, pushing it around with your fork until it looked more like a suggestion of a meal than food.

He glanced at you, then down at the untouched plate. “Not hungry?”

You hesitated, forcing a faint smile. “I guess not.”

He nodded absently, flagging down the waiter with a lift of his hand. In one smooth motion, he pulled out his wallet, slipping a card onto the check tray as soon as it arrived. No hesitation, no glance at the total—it was a gesture that screamed effortless privilege, something that used to impress you. Now, it just felt... hollow.

“Ready?” he asked, standing and holding out a hand to you.

You stared at his outstretched hand for a moment too long before taking it, his grip firm but impersonal. He helped you out of your chair like it was a reflex, like leading you was second nature but looking at you wasn’t.

The two of you stepped out into the fresh morning air, the salty breeze carrying with it the faint crash of waves from below. Glen slipped on his sunglasses, the mirrored lenses catching the soft light of dawn as he looked down the narrow road leading toward your rental house.

“It’s a nice morning,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Want to walk back?”

You nodded, tucking your arms around yourself. “Sure.”

The two of you set off in silence, your shoes crunching against the gravel path before it gave way to the smooth cobblestones of the resort. The cliffs of Big Sur loomed in the distance, majestic and timeless, their beauty unchanging despite the ache in your chest.

Glen walked with the easy confidence he always carried, his long strides slowing slightly to match your pace. You stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye—his jaw was relaxed, his gaze hidden behind the reflective lenses of his sunglasses. He looked like someone who belonged in this setting, polished and effortless.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” Glen asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” you lied. The truth was, you’d spent hours staring at the ceiling, the sound of distant waves doing nothing to quiet the spiral of thoughts in your head. “You?”

“As good as I could expect,” he replied, flashing you a quick smile. “You know how sleeping on a flight is.”

You nodded, unsure what else to say. The conversation fizzled out again, leaving only the sound of the waves and the occasional call of seagulls to fill the space between you.

As you rounded a corner, the rental house came into view—a charming, weathered cottage perched on the edge of a cliff, its white shutters standing out against the soft gray of its exterior. It had been your idea to book something cozy and intimate, a far cry from the glitzy resort Glen had looked into. At the time, you’d thought it would be a chance for the two of you to reconnect. Now, it just felt like a stage for the growing distance between you.

As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, you lingered for a moment, looking out at the endless expanse of ocean. The salty breeze swept through your hair, carrying with it a question you couldn’t push away:

When did it all start to fall apart?

The soft click of the door closing behind you felt heavier than it should have. Glen dropped his keys onto the small table by the door and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair. He moved through the cozy living room with the ease of someone who didn’t notice the growing weight in the air between you.

“So,” he said, heading toward the kitchen, “how’s Emily doing? She’s the friend who is pregnant, right? When’s she due again? We should probably send a gift or something, don’t you think?”

You froze where you stood, his words settling over you like ice.

“The baby shower was four months ago,” you said slowly, your voice tight. “Her daughter’s going to be three months old next week. I showed you a picture of her when she was born.”

Glen paused mid-step, glancing back at you with a sheepish smile. “Right. I—I guess I forgot.”

Forgot.

The word echoed in your mind, dredging up every other time he’d “forgotten”—anniversaries, birthdays, plans you’d made weeks in advance. The ache in your chest swelled, anger and hurt twisting together in a knot that felt impossible to untangle.

“You forgot,” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “Of course, you forgot. Why would you remember anything about my life when you’re too busy living your own?”

He frowned, the easy confidence he always carried faltering for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You stepped closer, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, as if that could somehow hold you together. “It means you don’t know anything about me anymore, Glen. Not really. You’re so out of touch with my life it’s like you’re not even in it.”

“Come on, that’s not fair,” he said, his voice rising defensively. “I’ve been busy. You know how crazy things get with work.”

“You’ve been busy?” You laughed bitterly, the sound sharp enough to cut through the tension. “That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it? I’ve been here waiting, Glen. Not just today, but for years. Waiting for you to show up. Waiting for you to keep your promises.”

Glen ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bleeding into his tone. “You knew what you were signing up for when we got together. You knew my career was important to me.”

“And what about me?” The words burst out of you, raw and unfiltered. “Was I ever important to you? Or was I just supposed to sit here and smile and wait while you made excuse after excuse? You promised things would get better, but they haven’t. And I can’t keep waiting for you to show up.”

His jaw tightened, and he shook his head, his voice low and simmering. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not like I don’t care about you.”

“Do you?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and something far more vulnerable. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. You’ll say I’m crazy for being the one to leave, but I can’t keep doing this, Glen. I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine while you’re barely here.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. Glen stared at you, his expression unreadable, as if he was trying to piece together how things had unraveled so quickly.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, but no less defensive. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to try,” you said, your voice cracking. “I want you to fight for this, for us, but you don’t...And I don’t think you ever will.”

His silence was deafening, and in that moment, you knew.

You turned away, wrapping your arms around yourself as tears burned at the corners of your eyes. The sound of the waves crashing in the distance filtered through the open windows, a cruel reminder of the beauty around you that felt so out of reach.

When Glen finally spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize you felt this way.”

You turned back to him, your gaze steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “That’s the problem, Glen. You don’t realize anything.”

Glen stayed rooted to the spot, his hands resting on the back of the chair he’d just pulled out. His knuckles whitened against the wood as he gripped it tighter, the weight of your words pressing down on him.

“You’ll say I’m crazy for being the one to leave,” he repeated quietly, almost to himself. The phrase hung in the air, raw and unforgiving.

He looked up at you then, his usual polished composure cracking ever so slightly. His brows drew together, and his jaw flexed like he was trying to find the right words and failing. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, his voice wavered, and he stopped. His hand rose to his face, dragging down his jaw as he cleared his throat.

“You really want to leave?” he asked, his voice low and strained, like the words physically hurt to say.

You hadn’t expected him to sound so... vulnerable. It caught you off guard, but it wasn’t enough to soften the ache in your chest.

You turned toward him slowly, your arms still wrapped around yourself. The tightness in your throat returned, and you had to swallow hard before you could respond. You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded.

The moment stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Glen exhaled sharply, running both hands through his hair now. He paced a few steps before stopping, his back to you.

“I didn’t... I didn’t realize it was this bad,” he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. He sounded less like the confident, larger-than-life man you’d fallen for and more like someone lost.

“That’s the problem,” you said softly, not out of anger but exhaustion. “You didn’t realize. You never realize.”

He turned back to face you, his eyes searching yours like he was looking for some flicker of hope, something to hold on to. “I know I’ve screwed up, okay? I know I haven’t been... I haven’t been what you needed. But I thought—I thought we were okay. I thought we’d figure it out like we always do.”

“Glen, we haven’t been ‘okay’ in a long time,” you said, your voice breaking on the last word. “I’ve been waiting for things to change, for you to keep your promises, but they’re always just words. And I can’t keep waiting for something that’s never going to happen.”

He took a step closer, his expression pleading. “I can do better. I’ll make time for you, for us. Just—don’t give up on me. On us.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over now despite your best efforts to hold them back. “I can't keep doing this. I’ve been holding on for so long, Glen. But I’m tired. I’m so tired of being second to everything else in your life.”

His shoulders slumped, and he took another step closer, hesitating like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch you. “So that’s it? You’re done?”

The tightness in your throat became unbearable, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. Your voice was barely above a whisper when you finally spoke. “I think I have to be.”

The words hung in the space between you, final and irrevocable. Glen’s face crumpled, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, might fight harder. But then he just nodded, a hollow acceptance settling over him.

You looked away, unable to bear the sight of him like that, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. The sound of the waves outside filled the silence as the two of you stood there, caught between what had been and what would never be again.

The silence between you lingered, heavy and unbearable, until Glen finally broke it. “Do you... do you want me to book you a flight home?”

His voice was low, almost tentative, like he was afraid of your answer. You didn’t look at him, staring down at the floor instead. Your chest tightened at the question, the finality of it. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the way his shoulders slumped, the way he exhaled like the air had been punched out of him. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. You swore you could feel the exact moment his heart broke, could see it in the defeated way he ran a hand through his hair. Maybe, some small part of him had been holding on to the hope that this was all a bad dream—that you’d wake up tomorrow and things would go back to normal.

But your nod was the final blow, and he seemed to understand that. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He nodded once, more to himself than to you, and turned toward the bedroom. “I’ll... I’ll take care of it.”

He didn’t look back as he walked away, and you didn’t call after him.

As the sound of his footsteps faded, you turned toward the glass doors leading out to the balcony. The cool morning air hit you the moment you stepped outside, carrying with it the faint scent of salt and sea. The waves crashed rhythmically against the cliffs below, indifferent to the turmoil inside you.

You gripped the edge of the balcony railing, the smooth metal cold beneath your palms. The weight of everything—the fight, the words you’d spoken, the reality of what you’d just done—pressed down on you. It felt suffocating and freeing all at once.

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady the swirl of emotions inside you. This was it. The end of something that had once been everything to you. Six years of memories, of laughter and love, of promises whispered in the dark—they all came rushing back, unbidden, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the weight of them.

But as painful as it was, you knew you’d made the right choice.

For the first time in a long time, you let yourself feel it all—the grief, the anger, the sadness, the relief.

Inside, you could hear faint sounds of movement—Glen probably on the phone, making arrangements to send you home. The home you hadn’t been to in days, but already longed for.

You closed your eyes, letting the wind whip through your hair, and exhaled. You didn’t know what came next, but for now, all you could do was stand here, on this edge, and breathe.

The wind swirled around you as you leaned on the balcony railing, the weight of everything settling deep in your chest. The sound of the waves was steady, soothing even, but it couldn’t drown out the muffled noise that drifted through the open window behind you.

At first, you didn’t register it. But then it came again—a soft, broken sound that made you still.

You turned slightly, glancing over your shoulder toward the bedroom. Through the sheer curtains fluttering in the breeze, you saw him. Glen was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands.

His shoulders were shaking.

You froze, the sight striking something deep inside you. It wasn’t loud or dramatic—just a quiet, private unraveling. But it was unmistakable: Glen was crying.

The realization hit you like a wave, unexpected and overwhelming. Glen never cried. He’d always been the one to keep his emotions in check, to brush off pain or sadness with a laugh or a quick deflection. The only time you’d ever seen him like this was years ago, when his family lost his grandmother. You’d held him then, wrapping your arms around him as he let himself break, his face buried in your shoulder.

And now, watching him through the window, you were reminded of that moment. Only this time, he wasn’t leaning on you for comfort. He was alone, carrying the weight of what had just happened all by himself.

This wasn’t the polished, distant Glen who had been showing up less and less in your life. This wasn’t the Glen who missed breakfasts or forgot about baby showers. This was the man you fell in love with—the one who used to bring you your favorite coffee on a random Tuesday, who looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. This was your Glen.

Your throat tightened as you watched him, your heart aching in a way that felt almost unbearable.

A part of you wanted to go to him, to cross the room and sit beside him, to wrap your arms around him and tell him it was going to be okay. That you didn’t mean it, that you’d stay, that you could find a way to fix things together.

But your feet wouldn’t move.

Because deep down, you knew that even if you comforted him now, it wouldn’t change anything. The years of distance, of broken promises, of waiting and hoping—it wasn’t something a single moment could undo.

Still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. The sight of him like this—so raw, so unguarded—tugged at something inside you, a small flicker of the love you’d been trying to let go of.

You turned back to the balcony railing, gripping it tightly as you tried to steady yourself. The sound of his quiet sobs carried through the air, cutting through you in a way that made it hard to breathe.

And finally, you let yourself cry too.

The silence between you was heavy, the kind that wrapped itself around you and wouldn’t let go. You stayed on the balcony, gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Silent tears rolled down your cheeks, the occasional hitch in your breath the only sound you made.

Inside, Glen hadn’t moved much. You could still see him through the window, his figure barely shifting as he sat on the edge of the bed. His shoulders had stopped shaking, but he hadn’t lifted his head.

Minutes passed, maybe an hour—you weren’t sure. Time felt like it had frozen, stretching out endlessly in this painful limbo.

Finally, you heard him making his way out of the bedroom.

“The earliest flight I could get is this afternoon,” he said, his voice rough and low, like he hadn’t spoken in days.

You turned to look at him, meeting his eyes through the thin veil of the curtain. They were red-rimmed and glassy, his face pale, his jaw tight like he was holding something back.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

He stood then, running a hand through his hair before stepping through the sliding glass door onto the patio where you were.. He stopped just short of you, as if there was an invisible barrier between you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking on the words. “For everything.”

You swallowed hard, blinking back more tears as you waited for him to continue.

“For not making you a priority. For being too caught up in my own world to see what I was doing to you—what I was doing to us.” He paused, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. “I didn’t mean to... I just—I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you stayed quiet, letting him get it out.

“I thought if I just worked hard enough,” he said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, “I could make everything perfect for us. The house, the vacations, the security—everything. I thought that’s what you deserved. But... I see now I’ve just been pushing you away.”

The vulnerability in his eyes hit you like a punch to the chest. It was the same look he’d had years ago, the one that made you fall for him in the first place. It was a raw, unguarded honesty that you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking again. “I could tell things were getting bad, but I didn’t know how to fix them. And there was so much I couldn’t control—work, schedules, everything. So I buried myself in it, thinking... I don’t know. Maybe if I just stayed busy, I wouldn’t have to face the fact that I was losing you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, and you had to look away, your gaze dropping to the wooden floor of the balcony.

“All I want is for you to be happy,” Glen said, his tone softer now, almost pleading. “And if... if you're not happy with...” His voice cracked completely, and he had to stop, clearing his throat before continuing. “If you're not happy with me, then... I’ll understand.”

You looked back at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, it felt like you were staring at the Glen you used to know—the one who used to bring you coffee just because, who used to hold your hand in the car, who used to make you feel like you were the center of his universe.

But that version of him felt so far away now, like a memory you could barely reach.

“I just... I just want you to be happy,” he repeated, his voice barely audible, as if saying it again might make it hurt less.

You wiped at your eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. They were honest, raw, and for the first time in what felt like forever, they felt real. But they weren’t enough—not anymore.

You turned fully to face him, leaning back against the balcony railing for support. The tightness in your chest didn’t ease, but you forced yourself to speak through it.

“It’s not just you, Glen,” you began, your voice trembling. “I—I let this happen too.”

His brow furrowed slightly, as if your admission confused him.

“I’ve been avoiding the hard conversations,” you continued, looking down at your hands, your thumb nervously tracing over the edge of your ring. “Because I was scared. Scared of what they might reveal. Scared that if I said how I really felt, it would all just... fall apart.”

His lips parted, but he didn’t speak, waiting for you to finish.

“I thought that if I just kept quiet, if I just kept pretending everything was fine, then maybe we could get back to the way we used to be eventually. But it hasn’t worked. And now... now I feel like we’ve just been drifting further and further apart.”

You paused, taking a shaky breath, your fingers tightening around the edge of the railing.

“I love you, Glen,” you said, your voice breaking on the words. “God, I love you so much it hurts sometimes. But love isn’t enough—not if you’re never here. Not if you’re always somewhere else, chasing something I can’t reach. I'm never going to be happy if you're not here with me.”

He flinched like the words physically hit him, his hands clenching into fists at his sides before he shoved them into his pockets.

“I need you to be present,” you said, tears spilling over your lashes again. “I need to feel like I matter to you, like our relationship matters to you. And I haven’t felt that in so long.”

His jaw worked, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to find something to say. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath.

“You do matter to me,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “You matter more than anything. I just... I didn’t realize how much I was failing you. I thought I was doing all of this for us, but I see now that it’s not enough. That I’m not enough.”

You shook your head quickly, stepping closer to him. “It’s not about being enough, Glen. It’s about being here. Being with me, not just physically, but emotionally.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes glistening, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The weight of everything you’d been holding back for years hung in the air between you, raw and unfiltered.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Your heart ached at his words, at the pain in his expression, but you didn’t know how to bridge the chasm that had grown between you.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile, until Glen took a tentative step forward. His hand hovered in the space between you for a moment, like he was waiting for permission. Then, with a careful slowness, he closed the distance and pulled you into his chest.

The warmth of his embrace was immediate, familiar, and for a moment, it felt like you could let yourself fall apart. His arms wrapped around you securely, one hand resting against the back of your head as he tilted his chin down to press a kiss to your hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You didn’t respond—not with words, at least. Instead, you buried your face against his chest, the fabric of his shirt soaking up your tears. Your arms slipped around his waist, your hands clutching at the back of his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring you to the ground.

His grip tightened, just enough to make you feel safe, but not enough to smother. You could hear his heart beating against your ear, steady and strong, and for a fleeting second, you wondered if you’d ever hear it this close again.

You clung to him, your fingers curling into the material of his shirt as if holding on could somehow freeze time. The thought that this might be the last time you’d feel his arms around you made your throat tighten, and fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

He leaned down closer, his lips brushing against the top of your head as he murmured, “I never wanted this. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You shook your head weakly, your voice muffled against his chest as you choked out, “I didn’t either.”

Glen pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders. His eyes searched yours, wide and desperate, his voice breaking as he finally spoke.

“Please,” he said, the single word trembling with emotion. “Just... give me one more chance.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. His grip tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to anchor you in place.

“I know I’ve said this before,” he continued, his voice low but urgent, “but this time it’s different. I swear to you, it’s different.”

You wanted to believe him—God, you wanted to—but doubt lingered like a shadow in the back of your mind. He must have seen it on your face because he rushed to keep speaking, the words tumbling out almost faster than he could say them.

“I’ve been thinking—really thinking—about how I’ve let you down. About how I’ve let us down. And you’re right. I’ve been so caught up in work, in trying to make everything perfect, that I didn’t see how much I was losing in the process. But I’m done, okay? I’m done putting my career ahead of you.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. “What are you saying?” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded like he’d already made the decision. “After this project wraps, I’m taking a break. A real one this time. No more back-to-back shoots, no more press tours that take me halfway across the world. I’ll cut back—one, maybe two projects a year, tops. I don’t care if it hurts my career. I just want to stop hurting you.”

His words were raw, unpolished, but they hit you like a punch to the chest. For the first time in years, it felt like he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear. There was thought behind his words, real intention.

He took a deep, shaky breath and pressed on, his voice softer now. “I’ll do whatever. Whatever you need, whatever it takes. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. That I can be the man you fell in love with again.”

You stared at him, your tears blurring his face as his words echoed in your mind. You could feel the sincerity in every syllable, see it in the way his hands trembled slightly as they held onto you, like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“Please,” he whispered again, his voice cracking as his hands slid down to take yours in his. “Just give me one more chance. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us.”

His words wrapped around your heart, tugging you in two directions. The part of you that had been hurt over and over again wanted to stay guarded, to keep the walls you’d built firmly in place. But another part—the part that still loved him, that still saw glimpses of the man you’d fallen for—wanted to believe him.

This time, it felt real. It felt different. And for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to imagine that maybe, just maybe, it could be.

You took a deep, steadying breath. You took a step back, your gaze dropping to where Glen’s hands now held yours. His grip was firm but not forceful, a silent plea for you to trust him just one more time. You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper when you finally spoke.

“I’ll stay,” you said, the words trembling on your lips. Glen’s breath hitched, and you could feel his grip tighten ever so slightly, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you correctly. “Just for the rest of the weekend. When we get back home... we’ll figure out what happens next.”

The relief that washed over his face was almost heartbreaking. His shoulders sagged, the tension visibly draining from his body as he nodded quickly. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s all I need right now. Just... thank you.”

You gave a small nod, unable to say anything more as you turned and made your way back to the balcony. The cool ocean breeze kissed your cheeks as you leaned over the railing, staring out at the endless expanse of water. The waves crashed softly against the shore, their rhythmic sound both soothing and haunting.

A moment later, you felt Glen step behind you. His arms wrapped gently around your waist, pulling you back into the solid warmth of his chest. He didn’t say anything at first, just rested his chin lightly on the top of your head as the two of you stared out at the water in silence.

It wasn’t the silence of before—the heavy, suffocating kind that carried unspoken resentment. This was different. It was quiet, yes, but there was a sense of fragile peace in it. Like the storm that had been raging between you for so long had finally calmed, even if only for a moment.

“I love you,” Glen whispered, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it over the sound of the waves. But you did, and the words sent a fresh wave of emotion coursing through you.

You closed your eyes, leaning back into him as your hands moved to rest on top of his where they were wrapped around your waist. “I know,” you murmured, your voice thick with unshed tears.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to let go of the hurt, if only for a little while. You let yourself feel the weight of his arms around you, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the quiet sincerity in his voice.

As you stood there together, you thought back to that moment earlier in the day—standing alone, feeling the crushing weight of loneliness as you stared out at the beauty of this place. A mountain with a view, and yet, it had felt so empty.

But now, with Glen’s arms around you, it felt different. The view was still the same, the ocean stretching endlessly before you, the horizon painted in hues of gold and pink as the sun began its descent. But now, you weren’t alone.

And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have to be.

#Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell x Reader #Glen Powell x You #Glen Powell Angst

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flemingsfreckles · 2 months ago

Text

Safe Space

Synopsis: based off of a request I got (that I can no longer find) that wanted to see reader comforting Jessie, Jessie seeks comfort from her girlfriend after a hard couple days at the Olympic Games.

Warnings: discussion of the Canadian Olympic scandal, that’s it

WC: 1.6k

A/N: hi, I’m on vacation again, so here’s a sort little blurb (I have no idea when this is posting because my time zones are all messed up!) I also may or may not have reviewed this after being awake for like 24+ hours so no promises on the grammar and spelling.

You had quickly wrapped a towel around your body as you stepped out of the shower, hearing a second knock on your door you originally figured it was the hotel sending up the extra blanket you had requested before you hopped in the shower. However, when the knocking continued, becoming more insistent you turned and moved over to the door, double checking that you were covered before looking through the peephole and immediately pulling the door open.

“What are you doing here?!” You said, shocked to see Jessie standing in front of you. “You can’t be here.”

“I know but, can I come in?” Her voice was quiet, she only made eye contact with you in short glances. She shifted her weight, hands fiddling together.

“Jess…” as you say her name she looks up giving you the chance to fully take in her appearance. You notice her slightly disheveled appearance, a frown across her face, eyes watery, her lip had a slight shake to it as she awaits your answer. Your heart sinks at the obviously distraught appearance she had. “Yeah, come in.” You open the door to your own hotel room before quickly glancing into the hallway to see if anyone else was around.

“You’re not supposed to be here Jessie.” You tried to gently remind her as you follow her into your hotel room.

Jessie sighs. “I know, I just, I needed you. Even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

The Canadian team had spent the last couple of days playing their first games of the Olympics, all wins but outside of the game, everything was a mess for Canada. Everything was a mess for Jessie. Drone scandal, being labeled as cheaters, losing coaching and staff, constant pressure from the press to make statements, nothing about this tournament had been easy.

You knew the pressure your girlfriend was holstering. Not only was she captaining her first major tournament, she was captaining what felt like a sinking ship. She had been nearly silent since the news broke, calling you just to say a hello before falling into silence and letting you speak until other obligations caused you to hang up.

You saw her briefly after the first game, she had looked tired, as did every other player. You got the chance to talk with her, remind her how proud of her you were, how proud everyone was, but you knew she didn’t care to hear it.

By the end of the second game she looked not just tired, but drained. Only coming over to quickly see you following their victory she hardly spoke, muttering a greeting and letting you kiss her cheek and give her a quick hug before she retreated to the locker room, head down as if they had just been beaten.

The third game she hardly looked like herself. Dark circles had formed under her eyes that had slowly lost the sparkle you had become so used to seeing. She hardly smiled, only looking like she was having fun during a goal celebration before her face would return stoic. She hardly even spoke during the game, not to her teammates, not to the ref, not to the other team. She simply waved to you before leaving the field, not utter a word to you, her family, or any fans.

It was unlike Jessie, she wasn’t one to usually let a games or the sport in general ruin her mood for the day, a couple hours sure, but today and this week was different. To say you were worried about her was an understatement.

You worry for her had set in days ago, when the news first broke. You knew your girlfriend well and you knew how she’d likely cope with the situation. Jessie would do her best to take the weight off her teammates inadvertently putting it on her own back. She’d try to hold the team together as best she could, at the expense of herself. She’d stay up late to talk with the other girls, to make sure they felt reassured, not caring that she lost sleep over it. You knew she’d do anything for her teammates, even if it meant hurting herself.

You felt like you were watching your girlfriend break apart, unable to do anything.

When she showed up, unannounced at your hotel room, you knew things were bad. It was so different, she was actively going against the team's rules and guidelines sitting in your hotel room. Jessie wasn’t one to mess around with the rules. She followed them and encouraged her fellow teammates to follow them as well. Thus meaning she never left the team hotel to see you when she wasn’t allowed, she didn’t sneak off, especially not to come to your room, her being here meant she needed you.

“What’s going on?” You said looking over your shoulder at her as you rummage through your suitcase for some sweats. You give her a second to respond and when she doesn’t, you turn around as you drop the towel and pull a shirt over your head.

Jessie is laying on your hotel bed, one arm slung across her eyes, her other resting on her stomach. You watched as she took a few deep breaths, her chest rising and falling. Slipping on underwear and a pair of sweats, you quickly moved to hang up your towel before sitting on the edge of the bed.

Your hand comes to rest on Jessie’s thigh, giving her a comforting rub. “Jess, do you want to talk about what’s going on with you?”

“It’s, just all of it, it’s too much to get into, I can’t do it.” Her voice quivers slightly, to anyone else they might not have noticed, but you knew. “I know I can’t be here but, just a quick cuddle please?” She pulled her hand away from her face, and sat up. Seeing the mix of disappointment and sadness in her eyes made your heart ache. You never wanted to see her this upset over a game, especially one they didn’t even lose.

“Sure babe, but it’s gotta be quick, you can’t be getting in trouble for sneaking out.”

“I know, but I, I can’t be in that hotel anymore, I just can’t. They’re all looking to me, and I don’t have the answers!” Her words stop and you notice she’s suddenly breathing unevenly.

“Jessie, hey.” Trying to pull her attention, you quickly stand up from the bed to squat in front of her, putting your hands on her face. You can see her relax slightly into your touch. “Look at me, Jess, look at me.”

“You’re doing the best you can, that’s all anyone can expect of you. That’s all you can do.” You try to convince her of the words you were saying, letting your thumbs gently caress her cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m so tired of talking about it, I just need you.”

“Okay, come here.” You stand up, climbing onto the bed to lay down before lifting the covers out so Jessie can join you. She curls her body into your side, her head coming to rest on your chest and her arm draped across your chest, her hands resting just under your breast. “I love you.” You kiss the top of her head, feeling her hum in response.

You run your fingertips along her back, scratching lightly, aiding her in falling asleep. It’s not long before her breathing slows and you feel her completely relax against you.

You remained still in bed, the last thing you wanted to do was to stir and jostle the head that rested on your chest. The arm that was wrapped under her body had fallen asleep a long time ago but you couldn’t move her. You watched as your girlfriend’s phone rang, Janine’s face on the screen, you debate answering it for her before letting it go to voicemail.

Your own phone then begins to ring, this time you answer. “Hey Janine, what’s up?” You whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Hey, have you heard from Jess? I don’t mean to panic you but she’s not in our room, haven’t seen her in a bit.” You can pick up on the worry in your girlfriend’s best friend’s voice.

You look down to where your girlfriend’s head was resting on your chest, soundly asleep. For the first time in days she looked peaceful, she looked like she was okay.

You whisper back to Janine, not wanting to wake Jessie. “I don't want her to get in trouble, but I’ve got her, she’s fine.”

“She’s with you?” Janine asks, sounding confused.

“Yeah, I know she shouldn’t be, but she showed up and I think she just needed a break. She’s sleeping.” You continue to whisper, pausing when you notice Jessie stir slightly.

You hear Janine’s sigh of relief through the phone. “Okay, good, good. I don’t think she’s slept more than a few hours the past 5 days. I won’t say anything, everyone just wants her to be okay.”

“She’ll be back tonight, don’t worry.”

Janine thanks you before hanging up a second later. You feel the weight on your chest get lighter as Jessie lifts her head to look at you. “Was that for me?” She looked up at you with eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Janine just wanted to check on you.” You whisper, bringing your hand to her head with a gentle push in an attempt to get her to relax back against your chest.

“Am I in trouble?” You can hear the worry in her voice.

You give her another kiss to her forehead before running your hands through her hair and down her back to scratch her skin again. “No, not at all, go back to sleep Jess, I’ve got you.”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader #canwnt

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pers1st · 1 year ago

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can't quit you - alexia putellas x reader

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

warnings: bit suggestive, angst but happy ending

Taking a quick breath in after sleepily glancing at your phone to check the time, you shoot up in the bed that is not yours, next to the body that is not your dog's, whipping around. Your head drops as you get ever so dizzy, and you hit the nightstand next to the bed with a loud bang.

"Ow", you wince, holding your forehead tightly and pressing against it, as if that would help your pain in any way.

"Joder", a soft voice mumbles next to you as you push the covers back, revealing your still naked body. Usually, it would be dark when you left Alexia's bed, but by now, the sun had risen and you were late.

Fuck.

"Get up", you instruct her as you crawl out of the warmth of the bed, hastily gathering the clothes you'd left on the floor last night.

"Ale, we have training." The blonde is still laying in bed, the duvet cover all the way up to her nose as she shields herself in comfortability. She doesn't react to your words.

"Ale, we're late", you huff as you pull your sweatpants on. At that, the seemingly unconscious body shoots up, banging her head the same way you had.

"¡Joder!", she curses as she mimics your actions.

It's been two months since you last spent a night in Alexia's bed. Your relationship was a long and stable one, and when you broke the news to your teammates, every single one of them was shocked.

You and Alexia, however, weren't. Despite the two years you called yourself her girlfriend, the both of you agreed that it was time to call it quits. Time to go back to being friends. You let yourself become too comfortable, and, along with it - clingy. The two of you could never be apart, and you both know that it wasn't beneficial for you or Alexia individually.

Still, you know that, no matter what happened, you can always count on Alexia, and so the breakup felt less like a stop in your relationship and more like a shift. That's how you found yourself in her bed after a team night out, and then, just a month ago, the two of you silently agreed that whatever this was - it was okay. You had, after all, agreed to remain friends (with benefits, it seemed).

But the golden rule of it all seems to be that you don't stay over. You and Alexia agreed to spend time apart, to be on your own, and although it included late night calls and (sometimes drunken) hookups, you didn't sleep over anymore. You didn't wake up in her arms anymore. Until today.

"Ale, I don't have any training clothes", you sigh, the realization dawning on you that of course, you didn't pack an overnight bag. Why would you? You never stay over.

"So? Wear mine", Alexia shrugs, throwing a pair of shorts into your face. You duck away quickly and watch as the fabric gets caught on the lamp.

"Yeah, sure", you chuckle.

"You go to training, I'll be there once I've driven by my house."

"But that'll mean more extra laps, no? Just wear mine", Alexia huffs, seemingly unbothered by your problem. It's, however, not as easy as it used to be.

"I can't, Ale. We're not together anymore, we don't share clothes, we don't fucking fall asleep together!"

You didn't notice your voice raised until Alexia raises her eyebrows at you, wincing ever so slightly.

With her still looking at you like a deer caught in headlights, you grab your keys from her wardrobe and leave her behind, not caring to say goodbye.

Your ex-girlfriend confuses you. How does she not see the problem? How does she not see the gravity that comes with the night you spent at her flat? How does she not understand the problems this causes?

You huff in annoyance as you walk towards your car, knowing that you'll be running laps for a good half-hour after training, seeing as officially, you were supposed to be there five minutes ago. With the extra ten minutes it took to go home, and the fifteen minute drive to the training grounds, you know that Jona will have a very stern talk to you. The only hope you can cling onto is that Alexia is already there, and the fact that no one notices how weird it is for the both of you to be late on the same day, when you usually never are.

Jona's words are harsh, but they are nothing you can't handle. Alexia already finished her laps during training, it seems, as she is not with you while you round the pitch over and over again. With only two laps left, you speed up slightly, not noticing the figure sat on the bench before you finally come to a stop, reaching for your water bottle.

Keira raises her eyebrows at you silently as you take greedy gulps. It's not a particularly warm day, but the sun is beaming down on the pitch as if it is Summer and the excessive running left you dry.

"What happened? You're never late."

You know by her tone that she is hinting at something, but you shrug as the two of you begin walking towards the building.

"My alarm didn't go."

It's a lie. You didn't even set an alarm, with how exhausted you had been last night. Keira wants to say something else, you can sense it in the way she keeps looking at you and then back down, but you don't urge her to, because you don't want to hear it. You don't want to hear anything, really. You didn't speak a single word to Alexia during training, dodging her every time you were asked to partner up and not cheering her on the way you usually did.

Even now, as you joined Keira for lunch in the cafeteria after a quick shower, you lead your friend to the table furthest in the back, away from everyone else. She doesn't mind, though, instead yapping to you about everything and nothing. Aitana joins you halfway through your meal, and you quickly become the third wheel, though you can't exactly complain. Your head is dangerously close to exploding, with the speed that thoughts are racing through your head.

Maybe sleeping with Alexia after the breakup has been a bad idea. After all, you split because it seemed impossible to spend time away from each other. With the excuse of remaining "friends", you still partnered with her every time, made conversation with her about everything and nothing, ended up in her bed every evening just to escape mere minutes later and pretend nothing happened. It's a vicious cycle, and it needs to stop. And that realization is what's bothering you the most. The fact that you need to stop. The fact that you actually need to be apart from the woman you still love so dearly.

You don't notice Keira and Aitana already left until a new body appears in front of you. Glancing up, you find the one person you didn't wanted to see.

"Estas bien?", she asks, looking down at your full plate. Feeling nauseous all of a sudden, you declare your lunch finished and throw your wet hair over your shoulder.

"Sí", you mumble as you rise from your seat, beginning to walk to the tray of dirty dishes.

"Estas segura?"

"Sí, Ale", you huff, reaching around her to discard your plate.

"Okay", Alexia shrugs. "Are you coming over tonight?"

You shake your head, looking at her with a stare that, admittedly, she doesn't deserve. Alexia isn't the catalyst of this problem, anyways. It was the both of you who made this decision, silently agreeing on a plan that now seemed so foolish. How did you expect to spend every night with her, not allowing yourself to be embraced by her warmth and love, and not fall for her all over again? Alexia agreed to the breakup. She is okay with the two of you not being together again. So, why the hell aren't you?

"No, I can't tonight", you reply, though it is a total lie. You don't have plans at night, ever, because you always know where you'll be. Where you would have been. If the two of you were still together.

"Okay", Alexia says, though it sounds more like a question. You can't seem to stand in her presence for another second, as you bid her a quick, cold-hearted goodbye only to sprint away from the cafeteria and to the locker room to gather your bags and speed home.

Alexia and you agreed. You need to be alone. And you need to practice it, now that you can't drag yourself into her arms again. There is no space for you anymore.

You can't seem to sleep on your own. Before, you were so worn out from Alexia's persistence to wreck you in every possible, leaving you in a sleep so deep the only thing to get you to stir was your shrieking alarm. Now, though, you fall into bed with a thousand thoughts rummaging through your head, and you lie awake for hours, watching the sun set, watching the sun rise, all while tossing and turning around, desperate to find rest.

It's not difficult for the team to catch on. You sweat off every bit of concealer meant to hide the shadows beneath your eyes, and your movements are slow - hazy, almost. Your performance is average, at most, and no one had ever seen you perform averagely.

Alexia notices too - at least you hope, because there is no way she can just forget about you, is there? She watches you curiously, but she never says a word about your piss poor sprints, your late passes or weak shots.

Even Jona seems hesitant to say something - and that is what you're left with. Everyone looking, no one asking. Everyone noticing, no one checking. The whole situation is beginning to drive you insane - Alexia is starting to drive you insane. Though she is not the culprit of this, you can't help but feel your heart wither away every time you look at her and feel just a little bit of anger. This isn't how you want to feel about the woman you loved for such a long time.

It takes you exactly a week to end up in her bed again. Alexia doesn't ask why you are behaving the way you are, and she doesn't react to your hesitation to come over to hers again, which makes you crave her even more. You're a bit like a child, when it comes to these things. You always seem to want what you can't have, to want what doesn't want you. Her head just peeks up from between your thighs as you lean back into her cushions, eyes hazy and head spinning. Alexia is so, so good to you. The anger is long forgotten, at this point.

"Estas bien?", she asks the way she always does, and it causes you to chuckle.

"Sí, Ale. Muy bien", you huff, as she lays down next to you gently, her own body covered in beads of sweat. You push yourself up from the mattress with the last bit of strength you have left, gently straddling her lap as you lean down to capture her lips in another kiss. Realistically, you are worn out, at this point. You've been in Alexia's bed for hours, and the both of you are likely satisfied. But it is so hard to leave.

She chuckles into your lips, intertwining the both of your hands with hers as you finally steal another kiss from her.

This- it felt oddly domestic. There was a softness in her eyes that you haven't seen- or potentially just not noticed, since the two of you broke up. It makes you stop in your tracks.

"What's wrong?", she asks as you lean back on her lap, looking at this glint in her eyes that completely captures you. You can't describe it, but this feels so right- being here, in her bed, being on top of her, laughing, kissing, sharing intimacy, the look in her eyes as she gazes at your every inch, that it feels entirely wrong. These moments are over. Your relationship is over. You have to remind yourself, again and again.

"I should go", you huff silently, pressing one last kiss to her lips before climbing off of her. You almost whimper at the loss of contact, but you rise to your feet anyways, searching for your clothes on her wooden floor.

"You could stay." Alexia sits up, patting the spot next to her as she looks at you, following your every movement with her eyes.

"No, Ale. I should go", you remind her, and remind yourself, and pull your hoodie over your head.

"I'll see you tomorrow?", you ask, though it is a given. The two of you always see each other at training.

"Will you partner with me for passing?", she asks back, a chuckle on her lips.

"Why? Miss me already?"

You only catch the meaning of what you said by the time you are in her hallway, and you pull the door of her apartment close a little harsher than expected. Alexia doesn't miss you. The both of you know it.

It seems like a vicious cycle that the two of you are caught in. Every time you decide to put some distance between the two of you, it leaves you craving her even more. It almost feels like an addiction you are so badly trying to break, but you relapse every time, soaking in every second you can spend in her arms. You go over to hers a few times, indulging the attention she gives every inch of you, and then you leave her high and dry, the wall between you rising again as you dodge her during training and outside of it.

Just last night, you were in Alexia's arms, letting her take care of you the way she always does, letting her kiss every inch of you until there was nothing left and the two of you were breathless.

Today, you didn't speak a single word to her.

Unable to stand the silence in your apartment, you asked Keira to join you for dinner at home, after texting Alexia that you couldn't come tonight.

Alexia, obviously, doesn't seem to believe you as she knocks on your door furiously, all the while Taylor Swift is echoing off the walls of your kitchen quietly, with Keira sitting on the countertop, stirring the pasta every now and then. It is dark in Barcelona already, and just twenty four hours ago, you were with Alexia. Still, she is the last thing you expect when you open the door.

She is dressed in sweats, but she still looks so good. It takes you a second to actually recognize her presence.

"Alexia, I have-"

a guest.

That's what you intended to say, but the woman pushed past you already, barging through your apartment.

"We need to have a talk", she declares as she strides through your hallway. You only manage to catch up to her by the time she has noticed Keira, who looks between the two of you questioningly.

"You, out!", Alexia points to the door as Keira shakes her head, a grin on her face.

"But we haven't had dinner yet!", she protests with a chuckle, but at seeing Alexia's stern face, which isn't kidding in the least, she looks at you, pleadingly.

You shrug. No one disagrees with Alexia.

"Wow, just kicking me out? I'm hungry, you were supposed to feed me! I can't believe this", she mumbles as she pushes herself off the countertop, shaking her head in disbelief as she walks past you.

"I hope your food burns!", she yells from the hallway when Alexia sits down on the couch and you go to turn the stove off. The door crashes closed with a loud bang.

"That wasn't nice", you point out to your ex-girlfriend. Alexia is strict when it comes to football, but outside of the sport, outside of the captain-responsibility, she is the sweetest teammate, friend, girlfriend. Her behavior towards Keira makes you sense the gravity of whichever conversation she is going to have with you, and it makes anxiety tingle in your stomach.

"Sit with me", she orders, though it sounds more like a question when she looks at you and you can see the slightest bit of doubt in her eyes. Along with that softness. That glint.

You are next to her within seconds.

"Y/N, I need to know. If we are friends or not- I can't do this hot and cold", she starts, and the vulnerability in her voice makes you shudder. You didn't know that this affected her at all, she never voiced any complaints, but the way she looks at you makes you realize that this whole situation had nagged her more than she admitted.

"Why did you agree to this- whatever, if you don't want it?", you ask, not knowing how else to describe the situation, curious to know what she is asking of you. Does she not want you to come over anymore? Does she want you to be over every night?

"Because I can't..."

You allow her the time to search for whatever word she is looking for, knowing that she always struggled with English.

"Quit you. I can't quit you, and seeing you, holding you, if you are in my bed I can convince myself that this isn't real, that we didn't break up", she mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for you to hear. She spins your head.

She agreed to the breakup. She agreed that it would be best for the both of you when you first opened the conversation of how dependent you felt on her. In truth, the realization of how much you love Alexia had only hit you when every footballer had suddenly gotten engaged, and you realized that all you wanted was to marry Alexia. The thought was scary, and it sent you into a rabbit hole for a bit, wondering silently whatever you were going to do with yourself when Alexia decided that this relationship just didn't work anymore. Now, as you look at her, you realize that it's foolish. Calling dibs on the breakup was your worst idea yet. But Alexia agreed.

"But you- you agreed, when I broke up with you. You wanted the breakup", you look at her with a questioning gaze, lingering on the freckles on her cheeks.

"Because I don't want to hold you back, amor. If breaking up with me is what you need then I'll try to survive, somehow. But that doesn't mean I want it."

At that, you throw yourself into Alexia's arms. How have you been so stupid? How have you hurt the one and only person you have ever, truly loved, just because you were scared?

You sense Alexia's hesitancy, but after a few seconds, she wraps her arms around you, pulling you even deeper into her chest. You can feel her heartbeat, and smell her perfume, and it makes you question how you have survived the past months without being hers. Her arms feel so familiar, so comforting, that you crave nothing more than to be here - in her embrace - forever.

"I only broke up with you because I was scared. I was so scared of you ever leaving me, and-"

Alexia interrupts you.

"I could never. I could never quit you, amor. You are stuck with me forever", she mumbles into your hair as she gently rocks the two of you from side to side, her arms never loosening around you. You chuckle at her choice of words, though you do admit it is somewhat fitting.

"You'll never quit me?", you ask, a slight smile on your lips as you pull back slightly. At that, she only tightens her arms around you.

"Never. I will never quit you."

notes: this is literally horrible

#woso imagine #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso one shot #barca femeni #barca x reader #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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serafilms · 1 year ago

Text

song 35! candy (nct dream) + nishimura riki (spotify wrapped event)

honestly, today's the day, i’m gonna break up with you, i’m going to go see you, hope you'll understand

closest to a happy niki fic we’ll get i guess 😢 but happy birthday to the coolest guy on the planet (a year younger than me and still eating up my whole life’s achievements in one fancam) 🥳 requested by @sammm5225

“I love you.”

Riki freezes. What. Why did I say that? Did I just say that?

He did, in fact, just say that, and his face flushes as yours does too.

“W-what?”

Well, he has to commit to it now. “I love you,” he repeats.

Your cheeks redden even further and he can’t help but feel his stomach flutter. “I love you too,” you say, and Riki knows he’s absolutely fucked.

Because there’s no way he just said that, not now, not the day when he was supposed to break up with you.

Nishimura Riki woke up this morning with a warm feeling in his chest. He felt different today. The sun was shining on his face and the air was crisp and he felt light as his feet touched down on the floor. It was a good day, as good a day as any, but something was different about it. He checked his phone and saw a text from you.

Y/N: hii are we still on for today??

Right. Your date at the park today. He felt a twinge of guilt. He totally forgot about that, if he was being honest. He realised now that he’s barely even thought of you the last few days. Was that why you were asking?

Part of him wanted to cancel, because at that moment, Riki just didn’t really want to be around you. Not that he dislikes you, but he thought he’d rather stay home and just chill while watching a movie, or go to the dance studio or play football with his friends.

Riki looked at himself in the mirror in his room. His eyes shifted to the polaroid stuck in the top left corner. It was a photo of the two of you. You’re both smiling and you have a peace sign up next to your face, while his arm is looped around you and his hand is pinching your cheek on the other side.

He smiled at it with some fondness, but even that wasn’t enough to stir his heart. Nishimura Riki is not the type to make impulse decisions. But he does like to base them off of the logistics, and the fact was that he didn’t think he felt anything for you anymore. He still cared about you for sure, and he hoped that you’d still talk sometimes, but the jig was up. The expiration date on your relationship had passed and he thought that today might be the day to throw it away.

He picked up his phone and sent a quick affirmative text. Short and sweet, but not enough to make you think he was super excited for it. Because he was not excited, of course! What kind of psycho would be excited to break up with someone?

“But it is a beautiful day,” he admitted to himself as he walked down the street. The park wasn’t too far from his house, and he wanted to enjoy the time to himself on this lovely walk. Then, as he walked under the shade of a tree, something dropped right in front of him. He looked down and saw a tiny puddle of white and green liquid, right in front of his shoe. Bird poop. Riki stared down in disbelief. Well, thank god it didn’t land on him. They say this is good luck anyway, or something like that.

He stepped over it with a wrinkled nose and continued to walk down the street with his hands in his jacket pockets. By the time he arrived at the park, he could already make out your figure waiting on a bench. You were wearing a parka and your nice jeans, and your hair was neatly styled, and Riki felt a little bad that you put so much effort in. He’d try and let you down easy, he thought.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Riki, hey!” you greeted him with a pretty smile and stand to meet him. When he approached, he felt a jolt of shock when you grab his hand and lean towards him. Before he could stop you, you’d kissed him square on the mouth. Something tickled at his heart and he blinked in surprise before regaining his composure. Okay, this is fine. You’re fine, Riki. Be normal.

“I- uh, do you wanna go get some ice cream?” he asked. Yes, back on track. He’d get a jump on the gun so once he’d broken up with you, you would already be equipped with some dessert to console you. Maybe that’d soften the blow.

“Sure,” you beamed.

Riki led the way to the ice cream truck. He ordered your favourite for you without thinking, and regretted it instantly when you gave his hand a squeeze and leaned into his side.

“Aw, you two make a cute couple,” said the ice cream vendor as he handed you the ice cream.

“Thank you,” you said back.

Yeah, thanks a lot, ice cream guy, Riki thought bitterly. This was not going to be easy. But he knew what he wanted, and he had to stay strong.

As the two of you made your way to a spot under the tree where you usually sit, he steeled himself. He could totally do this.

His ice cream was left untouched as you both sat on the grass and he looked at you happily eating away. Okay, here goes nothing.

“Hey Y/N? I need to talk to you about something.”

You looked a little surprised at his sombre tone but you nodded anyway. Riki’s heart was beating very fast and he’d starting to panic a little bit. Okay, a lot. God, I’m about to go into cardiac arrest. He could see the headlines now. Nishimura Riki dies of heart failure at 18.

He looked out at the park, the grass green, the sun shining above him. The sky was so clear, so beautiful, and his heart seemed to stop for a moment, almost as if being rebooted before it started back up at a mostly normal pace. Something shifted inside him and he wasn’t sure what it was, but he was turning and looking at you and suddenly you looked like the most beautiful person in the world.

Your eyes were wide and glistening like some sort of anime character and your lips looked so pink and kissable, and now his mouth was opening before he’d even realised it.

“I love you.”

“W-what?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He’s speechless. You’re blushing and he can feel himself doing the same. Well, he messed that up. But it’s okay. He can work with this. Nishimura Riki swears he will never leave your side again. That’s a promise.

once again happy birthday ni-ki ‼️‼️ AND HAPPY CANDY SEASON EVERYONE START LISTENING TO CANDY YOU CAN ONLY STOP ON DEC 31ST 🍬

#nishimura riki x reader #niki x reader #nishimura riki #niki #niki enhypen #enhypen niki #enhypen #enhypen imagine #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #niki imagines #riki nishimura x reader #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha #written works !#2023 spotify wrapped event !

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blushingwife · 7 months ago

Text

I've Got You - a soft!Ghost x OC short story

When I say I'm very anxious about posting this, I mean I'm *deathly* anxious. HOWEVER. I'm so very proud of myself for completing this. You did it, hun :) This is what I've chosen to kickstart my "writing career". I decided to indulge in my deepest guilty pleasure: soft!Ghost. My teenage self would gag at how cheesy this is but you know what? She was lying to herself because she loved the cheesy stuff. There's something in me that wants to keep writing for her. So I think I will. I hope someone enjoys this as much as I loved writing it. More to come. CW: some self-deprecating thoughts. Otherwise, just pure unadulterated fluff.

Failing at his attempt to not panic was causing Simon to panic even more. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt scared in this relationship with Liz. The initial few weeks had been a constant battle with himself to stop believing she would leave once she realized his facade was a scam. A feeling had nagged at the back of his mind telling him he was a fool to trust her. That he was setting himself a trap. Then, the first time they’d argued with intensity, he’d been ready to end it and spare her from the effort and pain. But, truthfully, the thought of leaving was more painful than feeling unworthy of her. They both wished to do better. He’d apologized. She’d apologized. They’d basked in each other’s company after that and realized the experience had brought them closer to understanding how to make it work.

In time, his instincts calmed down. He learned to lean on her when he needed support and also to be her support as needed. So the current rising panic in his gut brought him to those first months and he did not like it one bit.

He kept playing with the loop of his black tie, never quite satisfied with its position. Liz’s younger brother was getting married, the first in the family. Everyone was coming, no matter how remotely they knew the bride and groom. Simon had never been anyone’s plus one before. Was convinced he’d never be. But as he raised his eyes from his neck to the deep brown irises of his reflection in the mirror in front of him, he remembered all of this was as real as it was gonna get. And after today, it would be official. All her family would know they were together.

“You’re fidgeting,” Liz’s voice said behind him. He forced the tension in his neck away with a quick roll of his shoulders.

“’M not” He dropped his arms as a pair of hands rounded his waist and then her weight settled on his back.

“Right.” He could almost feel her amused smirk. “You’re not.”

He raised his arm and reached back, inviting her forward. Liz slid underneath it to his side, never leaving the embrace. She raised her hand to his tie, arranging it exactly to where he wanted it to be, then glanced at him.

“You look handsome.” She kissed his cheek. Simon leaned his head toward her but kept staring into the mirror, into that maskless face that was supposed to be him but felt like someone else.

She ducked her head into his neck as she studied him through the mirror, trying to guess what it was that kept Simon’s attention.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered. That made Simon divert her eyes to her reflection. “Whatever you’re worried about. It’ll be okay.”

He turned his head to her real self, getting trapped in the depths of her eyes. He swallowed the urge to deny her statement, out of habit. It was still not easy to believe that she actually meant her words. “Yeah,” he agreed, then pressed a light kiss on her lips.

“I’ll be with you,” she said, pressing her palm to his chest. “You know that, right?”

He nods, shifting his stance toward her to pull her into a hug that he felt deep into his soul. The knot in his stomach relaxed when she didn’t press for further explanations. He should tell her what was going through his head. He’d always felt better when she knew. This wouldn’t be any different. Would it?

“Come on,” she pushed him back gently. “We need to get going.”

As they separated, Simon kept his grip on her hand and followed her out of their apartment into the elevator to the garage. They were silent the whole time but she drew small circles in his hand with her thumb. It grounded him. Left room in his mind meanwhile to gather the courage to tell her why he was anxious.

She offered him the car keys as they approached her vehicle. He tilted slightly his head at her as a silent question and she shrugged.

“Not really in the mood to drive,” she explained scrunching her nose. Simon took the keys as Liz dropped them in his hand, then entered the driver’s seat, started the engine and began the ride.

Liz spent most of the silent trip sparing brief glances at him, hoping she wasn’t making him too uncomfortable with her observation. He was gripping the steering wheel too hard almost since they had left. For a whole minute she thought she might have been paranoid, seeing things that weren’t there out of a desire to understand, but she’d watched him enough to know the difference between him being alert and being nervous. Something was bothering him. None of her theories were enough to bring proper conclusions.

“Simon?”

His hands relaxed in an unconscious reflex. His eyes moved for a second toward her before turning to the road ahead.

“Are you okay?” she asked. He rolled his shoulders again, giving her a nonchalant look.

“Sure” She glanced down. Wrong question to ask.

She looked at him for a long time, unable to figure out her next words. How to help him. None of the sentences she thought about seemed decent enough. He would shut down or lie. She swallowed a sigh. It was beyond frustrating. Feeling like being there for him wasn’t enough.

“What?” he asked and arched an eyebrow at her once he noticed she’d been staring. She pursed her lips into a slight smile.

“I love you.”

She had said it so easily he was unable to hide his own grin. His scalp and cheeks warmed. He switched his own palm from the wheel to underneath hers as it rested on her leg and clenched it firmly. Something inside his body stirred uncontrollably every time he heard those words. He wanted to think his actions talked louder. That he always demonstrated his love for her through small daily acts. Trying to say it out loud still felt scathing. Like it would become a duty he needed to step up for while in reality he had nothing to offer. And yet, when he dared ask her why she had not given up on him, her answer was always the same: she didn’t want anything else.

He straightened in his seat as he realized. Yes, he was still scared. Of not being worthy of it. Of fucking it all up. If he said it… there was no going back. But wasn’t he already too far down at this point?

The sound of the GPS reminded him they were arriving at the venue.

The crowd started from the parking lot. Not even minding the unrelenting heat of the sun above their heads, little groups of people talked and laughed while others headed toward the yard or restaurant beside it. Simon chose to park further down, a bit more isolated from where most cars were. He switched off the engine, glancing to his left at the building as Liz stepped outside. Too many people to meet. Would they consider him enough for her, like Liz did? He didn’t want to know.

Liz had walked out and to his side of the car. Her eyes were on him, expectant. He stood, closed the car behind him, then took Liz’s hand in his. As he started walking, Liz pulled him back.

Simon swung to her as she dug inside her tiny party purse and brought out a carefully folded piece of black cloth with white paint.

“I brought it for you,” she said, as she offered his old ghost mask. Simon blinked, tempted by the offer to hide behind his usual facade. He shook his head and she tilted hers to the side, inquisitive. He was not about to turn back on his decision.

“I want to make a good impression on your family.”

She frowned.

“They already know you.”

For the last couple of years, her family had already hosted several Christmas parties and other gatherings to which the 141 was invited. Yes, they’d met Ghost. But they hadn’t met Simon.

“It’s not the same.”

She watched him, as she usually did and only put aside the mask in her purse when Simon pushed her hand down in confirmation. Then, she closed the distance between them as he glanced to the ground. She lifted her hands to his cheeks and forced him to look at her.

“Why not?”

“It just isn’t”

She caressed his cheeks with her thumbs. “Okay. Well… You know you’ve already made a good impression, right?”

He slid his arms around her in silence, holding on to the comfort of her presence.

“They have loved having you around. A mask didn’t make a difference.” She leaned forward, bringing his forehead to hers. His frown deepened Liz’s own. Her heart accelerated in silent outrage.

“Do you know why I know?” she asked. He waited.

“Because wearing it or not, I still see the same man I fell in love with.”

He swallowed thickly. Closing the distance to her lips with his own, he savored her sweet taste like a man drinking in a desert oasis. When they parted for air, Simon leaned into her neck and closed his eyes, trying to print the memory of her scent into his brain as she slid her arms above his shoulders.

“I’ve got you, okay?”

He nods as she strokes his scalp soothingly. She was in no hurry.

“I love you too,” he said, after a while, before the impulse grew weaker.

Her grin lit up her whole face.

“I know.”

When they separated, she was the one to kiss him one last time before walking toward the venue hand in hand, his step lighter than what she had seen for the entire day.

As they made their way toward the entrance, Simon instantly recognized Liz’s mother, Mrs. Hale, a woman in a pale green floral dress with a slight hunch, gray hair in a high bun and still commanding her surroundings with a kind smile. Judging by her welcoming stance and eagerness to spare a greeting to everyone passing, she had taken the role of greeter and guide, pointing out areas of the venue. When Liz and Simon came in, almost the last ones in the queue, the woman immediately lit up at his sight.

“My! Dear, how wonderful to see you again,” she said, going straight for a hug towards a stunned Simon. As far as he remembered, the woman had never seen him before without his mask.

“Good to know you missed me, Mum” Liz retorted with a chuckle “You know I always do but him, I don’t see him that often.” They parted and it was Liz’s turn for a motherly hug.

“How’d you know who I was?”

The woman turned to Simon again with a wide grin, the skin around her eyes wrinkling deeper but in the same way that Liz did when she smiled.

“How could I not?” she waves away his puzzled expression as if it were obvious what she meant. “Dear, let me introduce you to the other side of the family, come, you two,” she urged, then walked further inside without concern about the last of the guests she hadn’t greeted.

Liz felt Simon’s hesitation but she squeezed his hand and when he looked at her, she nodded again to let him know she would be right beside him. Always.

#ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x oc #simon ghost riley #ghost fanfiction #simon riley x oc #ghost mw2 #soft ghost #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #pure fluff #oc #original character

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

Note

you’ve probably done something like this before but stepdad hotch when the reader comes back late after a hookup or smth and he’s just pissed off cause like..what??

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this post is 18+ and dark, minors dni.

You're a master at opening the door silently, but it doesn't matter, because Aaron is sitting in the living room when you get back.

You freeze up when the door swings open and reveals him, and at the sight of your too-short shorts, he does too.

Then he speaks, voice low and sharp, "Where have you been?"

"Out." You shrug, slipping your keys back into your pocket, "I don't have a curfew. I'm not a kid."

"Out? Oh," He chuckles, but there's absolutely no humor in the sound, "You mean out in the driveway? That engine was loud. Did you really think no one would see you two through the windows? You really thought it was a good idea to fuck in the backseat like some cheap hookup?"

"It was a cheap hookup!" You fume, "All he had to do was pay for dinner."

Aaron's jaw clenches, and he squeezes his eyes shut, "You are worth more than that."

"What, you think a hookup determines my worth? I know I'm worth more than dinner, Aaron," You huff, "But I don't define my worth by my body, or who I give it to."

"I'm not saying that you're only worth your body," He scoffs, "I'm just saying you deserve better. You deserve someone who takes you inside and doesn't bend you against the center console."

Your nose scrunches, your chest hot, "Were you watching?"

"No! I wasn't watching," Aaron insists, his eyes blazing, "All I'm saying is that you don't have to cram yourself against a car door to get a quick fuck."

"No one's offering anything else," You laugh, sarcasm bleeding through the raw cracks in your voice, "What am I supposed to do, huh? Who's lined up to romance me, Aaron? You know someone?"

He looks to the ground. It's the first time he's broken your gaze since you stepped through the door, and it makes you feel like you've won, somehow.

"Go to your room," He murmurs face faintly rose-colored, "Clean up. You need to rest."

"What?" Your stomach churns slightly at his shift in tone, softness not a typical component of his grumble.

"Did he- are you... okay?" Aaron glances back up at you through his lashes.

"I'm fine." You mumble cautiously, "It.. it was fine."

He stalks off to the kitchen without another word, a scowl on his face.

You walk up the stairs with an uneasy feeling in your stomach. You like testing boundaries with him; he's easy to rile up and some rebellion leftover from your teenage years helps your case. But this seemed different, he... broke.

Changing into your pajamas feels nice, the soft fabric a stark contrast against your skin from the jeans and sticky underwear. When you step out of the bathroom with a clean body but a muddled mind, Aaron is sitting on your bed.

You stiffen at his presence, and he stands.

"There's water there," He motions to your nightstand, "And a cookie. Just... rest. Okay?"

You eye the chocolate treat on your side table warily, "Thank you?"

"Yeah. And sleep in tomorrow," He orders, stern once more after his strange lapse of grouchiness, "I'll tell Jack to leave you alone."

You slip under your bedsheets in lieu of a response, reaching for the water to take a sip. It only delays your response more, and Aaron stands there awkwardly.

"Thanks," You finally breathe, throat refreshed and muscles relaxing against your mattress.

He looks like he wants to tuck you in, fingers twitching at his sides. He stares for just a moment too long, then meets your eyes once more to nod silently. Once.

"Goodnight," He murmurs, letting himself out and shutting the door behind him. He's such a presence that your room feels empty without him, too empty. The cookie helps, though, heart-shaped and chocolatey, just as gooey as the feeling in the pit of your stomach as you recall Aaron's pinky cheeks.

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oumaheroes · 1 year ago

Note

Now I have to send this answer back to you! Do you feel you have changed the way you write England (and France!) since the beginning? In what ways do you think you have improved when writing them?

Oh GOD yes!

On England:

I used to write him more as per old fandom norms: stereotypically tsundere, grumpy, quick to react, and emotionally a bit all over the place in regards to how he came to certain conclusions. All from the anime, of course, which definitely flavoured how the fandom wrote and portrayed him as a whole

But mostly, he's unchanged. Most of those traits didn't last too long for me. As soon as I tried writing him in a long form story he rigidly rebelled haha. He's always had a very strong and set personality in my head and my Arthur from 2011 is the same guy he is for me today, just with a few more bells and whistles that I've since chipped off

The main ways he's changed I think is just through me improving as a writer and being able to better understand and portray nuance. I think he's a very complciated person, very layered and confusing even to himself, and whilst on the surface he might be contrary or stubborn the reasons he has for his behaviour make sense to him. I wasn't very good at showing this when I started out writing and my early Arthur is clearly written by a less mature writer and person. As I've grown, he's grown with me

On France

Boy, my old France got the short end of the fandom stick whacked at him. Unlike Arthur, who has always been himself with me for the most part, my old Francis personality was much more fandom incarnate from the early twenty tens. Bit of a sexual leech, a nudist, a party animal... a bit of a silly show piece with not too much thought into him. Dramatic for no reason

I think my old France is probably still recognisible as the character I write today for the most part, but I've since taken away all of the old silly fandom traits he was given and matured him up to make him more complicated. As the fandom has aged I feel we've all moved further and further away from the old anime portrayals, and I loved reading stories of Francis as this hyper intelligent cruel and vulnerable guy. I love giving him that capacity now, along with Arthur, and layering him up like a pretty lil onion

FrUK together

Honestly, I have said this before somewhere but as soon as I put the two of them in a scene that was it, they were the stars of the show. The first proper Hetalia fic I tried to write was USUK and Francis was supposed to be Arthur's childhood bestfriend and instantly they were the main characters. Instantly, their scenes together were my favourites, their dialogue my best, and they had more chemistry and intimacy than anything else. I converted myself to FrUK, I am the problem ahha

As soon as I wrote them together their relationship set solid and it's been unchanged ever since. It wasn't even planned, there was no room for growth- how they are now is how they were then. I abandoned that USUK fic and shifted to Reset and welp, been here with them arguing in my head ever since

The only way I write them differently is maybe how easy they are together? I used to write England more reluctant with affection and France more forceful, and they've softened with age as I've smoothed out the old rigidities of their characters. It's the same now, just softer

#also! writing characters as being somewhat contradictory is a thing #A character can be stubborn and angry and proud but soften for one particular person #another character can be wise and patient and calm but go utterly banannas in rage for one dickhead #I used to think 'oh blah blah would never do that'#maybe they would for /one thing/ though #maybe they could in a different situation #knowing that really helped me to write characters and be more relaxed with myself #this was a mean ask cake i'm sorry but you answered it so well and i really wanted to know your thoughts #I hope you liked this answer and thanks for asking me in return!#heroes headcanons #aph england #aph france

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debu-neko-kun · 2 years ago

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Sammy’s Formula

Short second-person weight gain and moo-cow TF; I kept it pretty gender neutral, since everyone can be fat and moo-y. Anywho, is this my first story in several years starring my boy Sammy? Yes. Is he going to make you a giant obese milky cow? Also yes. Enjoy! “Alright darlin’, drink up when you’re ready!”

The wide, green-haired moo-boy stood in front of you, his sizable hips taking up most of your view of the back of the spacious barn-turned-laboratory. An excited grin is plastered on his chubby face; his fat-heavy arms jiggle as he hands you a cup. It’s a regular clear plastic cup labeled “Serum B”, the pink liquid contained within smelling strongly of sweet cream and strawberries.

“I’ll be filmin’ this for scientific record, just like we talked about; that still okay, sugar?”

You nod. You’d come this far, traveling all the way out here to Sammy’s Sunshine Dairy, answering an ad calling for volunteers to help with a product trial. You skimmed it, noticing that It promised 500 dollars, and with Sammy being a reputable local business owner that specializes in weight-boosting milkshakes and products for moo-boys, you figured it was easy money. Taste testing for 500 bucks? Yes please. Besides, Sammy’s calm and friendly demeanor instantly put you at ease, which made it all the easier to say yes.

With one last little breath, you bring the cup to your mouth. As soon as it hits your tongue, your senses are awash with sweet, fresh strawberry flavor; it’s like the best strawberry ice cream you’ve ever had, but somehow better. You can’t help yourself and take another big gulp, then another and another.. Before you know it, you’re standing in the middle of the room holding an empty cup. Sammy beams at you from behind the camera.

“I reckon that means you liked it.” he chuckles, shifting his stance to get a better angle with the camera, black skirt riding up to expose a considerable amount of his girthy cheeks. If he noticed, he didn’t say. “Lemme know if ya feel anything yet.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, your gut rumbles loud enough to echo across the walls. You put your hand to your stomach, a little embarrassed; maybe dairy wasn’t quite agreeing with you today. As you hold your hand there, you begin to notice something; your shirt is shifting beneath your grip, sliding and bunching, tightening around your middle… and that’s when you feel the mass of your belly growing out, pushing your hand away as it thickens and softens into a proper belly right before your very eyes.

“Woah, that’s fast! Didn’t expect it to go so quick, sugar. Should stop right about… now.” Sammy spoke.

You watch in stunned silence as the soft swell of flesh begins to peek out beneath your shirt, the fabric unable to cover it any longer; a small sliver quickly turns into a wide patch of exposed flesh. You can feel a strange soothing warmth as the rest of your body begins to rapidly soften like rising bread, pants pulling tight around your growing cheeks, underwear receding, shirt sleeves gripping the dipping lard-wings you’re developing.

“U-Uh, any second…” Sammy shuffles nervously, watching you grow fatter and fatter.

What was that stuff? What’s happening? These questions escape your lips as your chest fills out like water balloons stuck on a milk spigot, blowing up and up, nipples perfectly visible through the tightening fabric, growing faster than the rest of you to catch up; the sudden onslaught is too much for the shirt, and it begins to tear from the collar straight down the middle.

“W-Wait, didn’t ya read the advertisement?” Sammy speaks, a look of confusion now mixing with mild panic. “It said you’d be testin’ my new line of moo formula; y’know, like the formula that turns ya all chubby and cow-like? This was supposed to be the beginner dose, but it looks like ah might have… well, overshot it…”

Your pants are the next to go, a catastrophic failure beginning with the sudden rupture of the seat of your pants and culminating in so many ripped and snapped seams you were rapidly left standing in just your underwear. The camera captures your enormity in frame, from your bare rolly thighs that squish together in silken flows to the gut dipping down and encroaching on their territory, to your bra-obliterating breasts that encroach on your belly in turn. As if turning into a parade blimp weren’t enough, you feel a warm, numb tingle on your head like running water; reaching up, you can feel two cow horns poking out of your skull, nubby and short, but otherwise sitting amongst your hair like they’d always been there. You turn your head, fat cheek pressing into shoulder in an effort to look at your couch-filling ass, and feel two fuzzy new cow ears flopping against your cheek.

You reach out to your belly with lardbag arms as thick as bed pillows and place your dimpled hands on the gut that grows, and grows, and grows some more… you feel your back fat touch the shelf of an ass that has by now outgrown even your underwear and you shiver; everything on you is softening, drooping, widening, filling, touching, jiggling. The sensations are almost overwhelming, but…

It’s not bad?

Not something you’d thought you’d think, given the circumstances, but it was true. You felt like you had just crawled beneath a comforter straight out of the dryer, or slipped into a hot tub: only the hot tub is *you*, your girthy circumference and sheer volume certainly enough to fill one at least.

“Oh, it looks like it’s slowin’ down… a-at least, ah hope so…” he mumbled in his thick southern accent, looking more than a little embarrassed himself over his formula error.

You confirm his suspicion: the growth is finally slowing, the last pounds creeping in at close to solidify you as a nearly spherical ball of lard. But just as it stopped, a tingle began at the peaks of your breasts; you pat at them, hammy arms squishing them together as you work to try to soothe the tingle.

The tingling builds and builds until finally, like a dam breaking, streams of milk begin pouring down your breasts, tickling your belly before dripping to the floor.

“W-Well… if’n you want, ah can just… pay ya now and send ya home with some of my pajamas…” Sammy spoke sheepishly. “But bein’ that large, might be a little bit of an adjustment… ah can always set you up a room in the farmhouse, let ya work here for a while if you’re interested. Long as you want, ‘till you’re adjusted to bein’ a cow– seein’ as it’s permanent an’ all– or just for as long as you wanna work ‘round here as a dairy cow. What’ya say? You want to hang around?”

You grip your belly and let out a long, happy moo.

“Good enough answer as any, I reckon.”

#secondpersonfat #secondpersonweightgain #fat #weightgain #mooboy #cow-boy #boycow #or moogirl #or mooenby #it's up to you baybee

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shitouttabuck · 1 year ago

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wip wednesday

tagged by @forthewolves @rewritetheending @try-set-me-on-fire @jeeyuns @rainbow-nerdss @alyxmastershipper @eowon @giddyupbuck @icecreampotluck 💘

from i love you like a dog

When he comes back out to put his shoes on, Eddie’s obediently heading to bed, albeit muttering grouchily to himself the whole time. Buck’s struck by this sudden and violent urge to stride over and kiss him on his forehead, just a short and sweet goodbye. He wants to do it now, and he wants to do it tomorrow and every time he ever has to leave, however brief it may be. Eddie pauses at his bedroom door and peers back at Buck down the dark hallway. Then he grins, quick, before bossily saying, “Well, don’t keep my kid waiting. And expect that list. I will not be taking comments on my friendship with our meat vendor today, so not one word if you also happen to receive some questions to relay to her.” With that, he marches into his bedroom, leaving Buck’s face aching with the span of his smile and his heart aching with the easy way Eddie’d referred to Mariana as an our. It's hard to know when something shifts when you’re living in it. But if Buck from two weeks ago had harboured any thoughts of dizzyingly domestic goodbye kisses, he’d have folded it up as small as possible and tucked it into the recesses of his mind. Today? Buck folds it once, twice, and tucks it into his back pocket. It’s not that it’s suddenly conceivable, more that—the last couple weeks have felt like such a dream already, and maybe Buck’s feeling indulgent. He knows he’ll have to wake up soon, so until then, he’ll let himself pretend it’s within reach.

i think. this might be the last i love you like a dog snippet i post? i only have one scene left to write and then. PLENTY of editing. i love u guys SO bad for sticking w me and being so unbelievably lovely through the whole deranged writing of this fic like i want to kiss each and every one of you. she is so special to me but so personal it would’ve driven me insane in a bad way if i didn’t have y’all. do u wanna guess how long she accidentally became. it's stupid long for a fic that was never supposed to be more than 15k at MOST.......

tagging @anxieteandbiscuits @colonoscopys @transboybuckley @zahlibeth @diazblunt if y’all have anything 💗

#can’t believe the finish line is In Sight…….. kinda sad lol #i wrote a full 6k yesterday in a fugue state…. i’ve never written so much in one sitting #needs a Lot of fixing up but will post by this weekend!#wip #tag game #i love you like a dog

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angelofrainfrogs · 11 months ago

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Going Back: Ch. 14

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Things are looking up for Gregory. After putting the soul of a formerly-immortal killer to rest, he and his new family can finally begin their lives anew. Sure, Gregory might have been cursed with mysterious Remnant in exchange for being involved in this mess—not to mention his caretakers consist of sentient robots and ghosts… But there’s no doubt that the bond they share is unbreakable. They love him, and he in turn.

All in all, life is finally starting to go right for once.

…Unfortunately, true peace is a hard-won battle. There are other things to contend with besides William’s decrepit soul, and Gregory will learn that his role in the lives of the Aftons and Emilys is far greater than anyone could’ve imagined.

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Amazingly, Michael slept until the crack of 3 pm. He left the land of sleep in a daze, barely registering he was awake at first. Rolling onto his back, he stretched his arms out and accidentally smacked Charlie’s face with the back of his hand in the process. It was her retaliating punch to his ribs that fully brought Michael to reality and with a mumbled apology he got out of bed, rubbing his side like it was now a bruised as he meandered to the shower. Clean and refreshed a short while later, Mike headed off to the Pizzaplex. Thankfully he didn’t need to eat and was therefore able to head straight to Sam for an update on the day and to see what was on the docket for tonight’s tasks.

Meanwhile, Gregory stirred a few minutes after Michael left the hotel room. Freddy had been dozing, getting more used to the concept of sleep as time went on, although he immediately perked up when the boy next to him began shifting.

“Good morning, Gregory,” Freddy said, pressing a quick kiss to his son’s forehead. Amazingly, the hoodie was mostly still on, having shifted only slightly during Gregory’s deep slumber. Bleary silver eyes peered up at Freddy from underneath the set of bear ears, making the ursine man’s heart absolutely melt.

Charlie was lucky Sam didn’t want her in “officially” to work until Monday. That’s when she was supposed to be settled to help Sam out; invoices and directing his calls sounded fairly easy when it came to her more logic oriented brain. For today, Charlie was content to sleep with her now-bruised cheek facing the ceiling.

Gregory had been mindful of Charlie’s slumber in the bed next to them as he quietly greeted Freddy. “Morning, Dad…”

A fast smile returned to his face. He was the luckiest kid—not just statistically. Today he felt good. With no hide nor hair of his foster parents around, Gregory was relaxed and happy to wake up with people who actually cared about him. He rolled over, throwing his arms around his dad as he thought of how close he was to never having a life like this.

***

Sam looked a lot better. The bags under his eyes were beginning to clear up nicely thanks to those strange melatonin candies Moon carried around, the natural sleep aids doing wonders for Samuel’s complexion. Outside the Daycare, Sam met with Michael and instructed him on what this shift was going to look like this afternoon.

“I was going ask you to help me get started on Roxy’s restoration, but Sophie’s going to meet you in the main security hub first,” Sam said, refilling a coffee thermos in a break room behind a Staff Only door. “She’ll show you the security route and protocol stuff. You know, newbie training and everything. It would be kind of unfair if everyone but you had to do orientation and all." Grimacing, Sammy leaned in close and cupped a hand over his mouth. "Plus, between you and me, she's the most suspicious about you guys—best not to give her any reason to make it worse.”

“I understand,” Michael replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. He raised an eyebrow as Sam inhaled the coffee, recalling the days when he too survived mostly on pitchers of the stuff. “I’ll meet her now then, I suppose?” When Sam hummed in confirmation, the guard nodded and headed off to the security hub. He wondered what Sophie thought of all this…

Would she still be mildly terrified of him as the Afton heir, like she’d been during past interactions? Thankfully Mike could now do away with that stuffy persona modeled after his cold-hearted father, although he knew the personality change would probably throw poor Sophie for a loop.

And speak of the devil—she was waiting for Michael right where Sam indicated, staring off into space.

“Hey!” Mike greeted as he approached, giving Sophie a little wave. He lowered this hand and offered it for her to shake with an apologetic smile. “Sammy said you wanted to show me a few things? I, uh… I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot earlier this week. I promise I’m not a complete asshole.”

Inside the room, Sophie had paused the video feed she was reviewing. Michael didn’t ask why, so she didn’t explain her reasoning for looking over the tapes. She tried hiding her jump when Mike began to speak, and his suddenly friendly demeanor had her very confused.

This was the same Michael Afton with the shitty attitude and muscle shirts, right? Sophie decided for the sake of their jobs, it was best to throw that mess under the bridge.

“Oh, it was a stressful week for everyone, Mr. Afton. No worries!” she replied with an easy going shrug before reaching out and taking his hand. She shook it firmly, and felt more at ease when she could feel him respond and match the strength of her grip. “But hey! Now that you’re here, I can start your tour!”

“Sounds good,” Michael responded, although he grimaced slightly at the name. “Oh, and no need for all that formal stuff anymore—Mr. Afton was my father. Just call me Michael or Mike; whichever you prefer.”

“You got it.” An easygoing smile returned to Sophie’s face. Perhaps the off-putting behavior had all been caused by stress. Intrigued, Sophie stood and began explaining the typical duties of a Fazbear night guard. “So—if you're doing nightshift, the first stop is making sure the auto locks go off at twelve at night. Starting from there, I'll show you the route we normally take! I personally just like taking a walk down the atrium from the front doors. Then it's just checking the backrooms in the fastest way possible before making it back to the security room.”

Gathering her flashlight and walkie, Sophie was sure to log out of the computer before hitting the door button on their way out of the room. No one needed to know she was snooping through video surveillance...

Michael instinctively patted down his work belt as he watched Sophie get her supplies. Everything was intact and accounted for, as usual. The day Michael Afton forgot or misplaced a piece of security guard gear would mark the failing of his mental capacities—after everything he’d been through, he’d never lose a potential weapon unless it was from throwing it at an animatronic that was after his blood. Hopefully they’d never have to worry about that again, though.

As Sophie continued speaking, Mike managed to pull his thoughts back to the present and follow her out the door. “Auto locks go off at twelve, then case the back rooms and return to the security office—got it.”

His gaze swiveled around as they walked, really trying to take in the building he’d be working and half-living in for god knows how long. “I know there’s multiple offices, though the one by the stage is the central hub. Does the night guard switch between them, or are the others more so there for back up or extra dayshift security?”

“Daytime security mostly. We used to have... More night guards. And day guards.” Sophie subconsciously reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Yeah, Vanessa had scared off a few newbies trying to learn the ropes. Honestly she was glad that Ness decided to take a wellness trip. Someone that high-strung sorely needed it, especially if she was keeping other people from doing their jobs.

When they hit the atrium, Sophie explained it a bit more thoroughly. “Usually if we had more staff, they’d be helping you out by watching their own sectors while you do rounds. Not many people want to work here these days... Go figure.”

Sophie spoke honestly, maybe even against her better judgement as she knew Mike and Sam must be friends of some kind. Still... Everyone knew this place had a weird history. Sophie was aware before even taking the job, and yet—probably against her better judgement—she still signed the employee contract.

“Speaking of which...,” she began, slowly drawling her words as she carefully meandered around the subject. “Why did you want to work security anyway? It doesn't exactly have the best reputation as a fun job...”

A wistful smile crossed Mike’s face.

“No, it certainly doesn’t,” he agreed, pale eyes flickering to Sophie’s briefly before looking away. “I’ve got personal stake in this place, for one thing.”

He might as well flaunt the Afton name even though he hated it. Maybe he could even reclaim it in time. While he’d never be rid of the dark blot of terror William created that forever loomed over Fazbear Entertainment, Michael could at least do his best to convince his coworkers that not every Afton was evil… or dead.

Kind of.

“Also, like we told you before we came to check in on this place per Sam’s request,” Michael went on as he and Sophie meandered casually through the Pizzaplex. “When I saw the state of things and the clearly overwhelmed night guard, I had to stick around to help. I might not look like it, but I’ve got a fair amount of security detail experience under my belt.”

He stopped himself from rambling more, not wanting to say too much. Michael got the strangest sensation that Sophie might actually understand some of his sordid past if he told her—or at the very least accept it. But that wasn’t a fair burden to put on anyone, let alone someone so young just trying to do their job. For now, Michael would remain the enigmatic Afton willing to help his family friend Samuel anyway he could.

The pair meandered through the Pizzaplex, chattering idly as Sophie explained the standard duties of what security here entailed. Eventually, their trip took them to the Daycare. The closer they got, the more Mike realized that this might not be the best idea. So far, Ennard had done a great job of avoiding dayshift staff, although they’d never been so close to Michael as they would be in the Daycare…

Of course, it was entirely possible that the amalgamation was chilling in the basement with Henry, though with technically two new friends if counting Sun and Moon separate, Ennard was spending most of their time in the rainbow room of fun. It would be too suspicious if Michael asked Sophie to wait outside while he scouted the area. Instead, he opted for loudly announcing their presence, hoping the knowledge that he was with someone else would be enough to send Ennard running for cover if they were around.

“Sophie, have you gotten the chance to visit Sun since he got all fixed up?” Michael asked, speaking a bit louder than might be necessary as they ducked under the garage door leading to the drop-off area.

“Oh yeah! I visited him this morning,” she answered in a perky way, figuring he was just making conversation. She approached the slide, which was honestly one of her favorite ways to enter any of the attractions. “Dude, I felt so bad. I tried asking Sun what was wrong but he just sort of covered his mouth and screamed? I think Sam said he was stuck between personality matrixes. And because he's sort of scared of the dark, it left him freaked out for like the whole weekend!”

Standing aside, Sophie waited for Mike to go down first. “Have you ever taken the slide into the Daycare? It's so much more fun than it looks.”

Inside, Mari was currently having the time of her life. Running around and chasing after both Sun and Ennard in one of the more enriching games of tags she's ever played, mostly her and Sun were the ones shouting over any attempts at signaling those robots inside the Daycare.

Well, shit. Michael caught a flash of movement—three shapes, and that’s all he needed to know. Sun and his new friends were playing and clearly didn’t hear his warning. Mari he could explain away: Charlie’s little sister, come to visit the Pizzaplex and Sam. The CEO needed to get some work done, and therefore dropped her off in the Daycare for Sun to watch over. Ennard though… now that would be a tough one.

Michael ran a stressed hand through his hair. As usual, that thing was the bane of his existence. Thinking quickly, he flashed Sophie a grin and took her offer of going first down the slide. Wasting no time, he practically threw himself down feet first, landing in a crash of plastic that instantly caught the yelling robots’ attention. They had about ten seconds max before Sophie made it into the ball pit, and as Michael scrambled out of the way he hissed frantically: “Dayshift guard right behind me! Ennard, GET OUT!”

Ennard briefly caught that flash of muted white and black of the security guard uniform. They were excited to see the human man and shouted a greeting to him.

“MIKEY! I AM WINNING TAG!” They stopped right by the ball pit, leaning over to loom over Michael, excited to finally talk to his friend after some silence for the past few days. But when they felt Mari's strong little hands shove them hard into the ball pit, they knew they were out of the game for now.

“TAG!” Mari shouted at the big old mess of wires and gears. “Now stay hidden you big goober!” She said, clapping the dust from the grody carpeting she had to touch.

Behind Michael there was a shout of joy from Sophie as she slid face first down and crashed into the ball pit, unaware what was lurking just out of sight in the plastic pool.

“Wooo... Man, that never gets old!” she laughed, shaking her hair out as she resurfaced. Though confusion quickly over took her as she saw Mari standing before Michael at the edge of the pit. “Oh—hey? What's your name? Are you lost...?”

Mari was quick to answer, her only downside being that she was a very truthful person by nature.

“No ma'am! I'm not lost; I'm Mari!” she protested, a cheeky grin on her face. Very cute, but Sophie did not quite like being called ma'am. It made her feel far too old. Standing up and wiping invisible dust off her pants, Sophie slowly made her way over to the young girl.

“Well, sweetheart, we've been closed for the past week. Do your parents know you're here?” she said, taking a very gentle approach to helping her. Although Mari looked kind of old to want to hang out in the Daycare area...

“This little angel is Charlie’s sister!” Michael quickly chimed in, scrambling out of the ball pit before a wiry tendril under the surface could fully wrap around his ankle and lock him in place. Once on the padded floor of the play area, he snaked an arm around Mari’s shoulders and pulled her into a side hug. “She came to visit Sam, but he must’ve needed to get some work done and dropped her off in the Daycare. Right, Sun?”

Michael shot a glance over his shoulder to where Sun was stooped, gazing at the interaction with rapt interest. It was a good thing his static face was stuck in a permanent smile, for the way he wrung his hands together indicated his nervousness at the situation. However, he immediately latched onto Michael’s direction, shifting his hands to clap them together.

“Oh yes!” the lanky animatronic exclaimed, bells on his wrists jingling as he swayed from foot to foot. “I’m watching over her until Sam or Charlie comes to pick her up! Ooh, but isn’t she just the cutest little ray of sunshine?!”

In a fit of what could only be described as cute aggression, Sun bent at the waist and reached forward to pinch both of Mari’s smiling cheeks at once, much to the girl’s chagrin.

“Sun?! How could you!” she said, feeling betrayed that her friend played along a bit too well as to treat her like a small child. She reached up, grasping his wrists and silencing the golden bells there. “You’re it now…” Mari said, reminding them that they were still playing a game. Sophie cracked a smile, believing them right off the bat due to the sheer resemblance she saw between all the Emily’s.

“Yes—” Sophie laughed, watching the maliciously compliant little girl interact with Sun. “—she’s cute. Looks just like the boss and Charlie. Are you having fun, Mari?”

“This is my second favorite place to be. But Sun’s one of my best friends…,” Mari admitted, now rubbing her face into the soft fabric of Sun’s stripped pants in a way that made Sophie's heart melt.

It took literally all of Sun’s willpower not to scoop Mari up and squeeze her until she was out of breath from the affection. To be called one of her best friends was the highest praise in Sun’s book. He patted the top of her head, slightly mussing up her shaggy waves in a way that framed the cherubic face even more adorably.

“Like Mari said, we’re playing tag!” the Daycare attendant exclaimed, looking to the guards expectantly. “Do you want to play with us?! It’s always more fun with more people!”

“Uh, well we're kind of on a schedule,” Mike explained. It’s not that he didn’t want to play tag—he was more worried about Ennard’s weird obsession that might entice them to stick an eyeball out of the ball pit to watch the fun. If Sophie caught sight of the creature lurking in the depths below, she’d probably freak out. With an apologetic smile, Michael shrugged up at Sun. “Next time, for sure; I’m technically in a tour right now for my new job, but we wanted to check in on you.”

“How sweet!” Sun gasped, completely unfazed by Michael’s denial of playtime. “I’m doing just great! And so is Moon! I’m sure he’d say hi to you both if he could!”

Under the pit, Ennard's wires shuttered and stalled with having almost gotten their prize. It was like Mike had developed a sixth sense when it came to their attempts at grasping for him. Despite his wishes not to play, Ennard knew he would be back later. Then they could chase each other down like old times once more…

As Sophie rose herself out and carefully over the lip of the rainbow river, she told the Daycare Attendant: “I’ll be back before my shifts up, Sun! I’ll bring some Fizzy-Faz to make up for it. We still have to get back to the security office for midday clearance.”

It was a rule from the start that all personnel that clocked in had to be accounted for by midday. A safety precaution that Mr. Emily took very serious. She was hardly worried about the boss’s daughter. The girl was in the safest part of the Pizzaplex. With its own lockdown features and 7 foot tall animatronic, people were hesitant to break rules under their charge.

“WAIT!” Mari shouted, jumping and grasping onto Sophie’s arm which had nearly been enough to make her panic right then and there. “I need your walkie talkie, please!” Before Sophie could answer, the communication device was slipped off her belt loop.

“Dad? It’s Mari! Do you copy?” she asked over the thick static.

A short pause followed by some feedback static was the only barrier between Sam's confused-sounding answer. “Uh—Mari? Yes, what’s wrong?”

“DRINK SOME WATER! You’ve been drinking too much coffee,” she shouted knowingly into the receiver. There was a long pause then after, followed by a heavy sigh on the radio.

“I’ve got water. Thank you, sweetheart,” Sam replied, probably relieved there wasn’t a real issue.

Mari then clipped the walkie back onto Sophie’s belt, leaving the security guard slightly dazed at the young girl’s responsible demeanor. Hell, she might make a good security guard when she’s older…

Michael had to stifle his laugh by turning it into a rather furious coughing fit. It was sweet to see Mari still fully invested in her role as the security bot of her earlier days, but imagining the look on Sam’s exhausted face when she called him “dad” so casually was enough to set off a fit of poorly-disguised giggles. Sophie would never know how absolutely bizarre their whole twisted “family” situation was…

“Thanks for helping keep your dad in check, Mari,” Michael eventually managed to say with a roll of his eyes. “God knows he needs it…”

“She’s so thoughtful!” Sun praised, jumping on the opportunity to shower his new friend in even more affection. This time he did pick her up, gently rubbing his face against hers while being careful of the bright spokes signaling his sunny disposition.

“Best mini-security guard around, that’s for sure,” Michael agreed, flashing a grin up at the pair. He then stretched his arms out, miming the action of cracking his joints as he looked to his coworker. “I guess we should head for that check-in?”

“Yes, yes, you don’t want Sammy to worry!” Sun encouraged, setting Mari back on the floor so she could say her goodbyes. Before she got the chance to though, the Daycare attendant crossed his arms overtop each other and grasped one of Michael and Sophie’s hands in his own, shaking them vigorously. “It was soooo good to see you! We have to play a game next time you both come around!”

Mari looked over the moon. She seemed to love the attention from others, and especially from one of the animatronics she chose to spend a lot of her time with. Until very recently, she couldn't express herself much. A living doll limited to its mask. Thanks to her creator, she could experience the world as the others did and finally share all that she knew.

Sophie, none the wiser to the twisted monster in the pit could eagerly shake Sun's hand carefree. There was nothing amiss at all in the Pizzaplex today. Sam would be happy to hear that after so many nights of constant stress... which might give her some the opportunity to do some snooping without anyone watching too closely. Though Michael knew his stuff—she would have to be careful around him when maneuvering the security cameras and other employees later.

“I'll bring a board game next time I come on by, Sun,” Sophie promised, knowing soon it would be her turn to watch the Daycare. Turning to Michael, she nodded her way to the door with a casual smile. “We're making pretty good time today—how are you liking the Pizzaplex so far?”

“It's growing on me,” Michael replied with a little smile that was hard to read. With a final wave, he followed Sophie to the exit. As he crossed the threshold of the doorway, he swore his slightly advanced hearing picked up on plastic shuffling from the ball pit, as well as a near-imperceptible “Wait, silly!” from Sun. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes with all his might, Michael picked up the pace until they reached the entrance lobby, upon which he slowed again for Sophie to take the lead.

It wasn't yet time to come out, Sun and Mari had to practically wrestle him back below the plastic balls. Sophie would look over her shoulder at this display with the expectations of seeing them messing around playfully. As Ennard sucked Mari into the pit below, making her break into a giggling fit, Sophie smiled at how much Mari was enjoying herself. Completely clueless as to the happenings of the Pizzaplex, she was quick to guide Mike back out and into the main atrium where people remained busy in order to have the place opened on schedule.

“It sure is eventful around here though,” Michael commented as he saw some staff members bustling around. He knew it was nowhere near what it'd be like when the place was actually open for business, and admittedly he was glad he worked mostly night shift. Over the years he'd gotten used to the relative quiet of darkness.

...Well, when he wasn't cursing in terror from bloodthirsty animatronics at the office window, that is. Soon enough they'd made it to the check-in location, where a few other staff members were milling about. Michael looked around for Sam, wondering if he'd make an appearance—clearly he was awake from Mari's recent short, chiding call.

Currently, something huge was being taken on a dolly and into the freight elevator by a few workers and Mr. Emily himself. Whatever it was had been covered by a large canvas sheet, wrapped in hooking bungee cords to keep the canvas from slipping off the odd shape. Samuel was currently holding the elevator, allowing the people helping it upstairs to fit inside the lift without it shutting on them. When Sam spotted the pair walking in tandem, he waved to them.

“How's the tour going, guys?” he asked, seeming in a better mood than the last week as a whole.

“Good!” Michael replied, staring at the elevator curiously as the large object was finagled inside. Another animatronic, perhaps? There were still a few more to get up and running, after all…

“Sophie’s been taking me on her daily route,” Michael elaborated, sticking his hands on his pockets and slouching casually to the side. “We stopped by all the animatronics to check in, too—DJ, the Glamrocks and Sun. They seem to be doing great!” A corner of his mouth twitched up in a knowing smirk.

“Also, Sophie got to meet your daughter—Mari’s certainly keeping Sun entertained.” Mike tilted his head. “How’s the coffee to water consumption ratio by the way, boss?”

Sam should’ve known that was the reason he received such a strange call coming from Mari; it’d really thrown the employees he had asked to help him for a loop. One remarked how they didn't know he had a daughter, while the other had spoken up to say they thought he had two. It made answering Mari just the slightest bit difficult. Then again, he was so tired, he could deadpan a lie fairly easily.

Sam chuckled, finding it weird how he had to pretend he had two kids—one being his sister, and the other a robot designed to protect both himself and said girl...

“Was she being good? And I'm drinking more water than I was before, if that's helpful,” Sam replied in a cheeky way.

“Oh, she was just fine. The Daycare attendant loves her, predictably,” Sophie said with a shrug. Sun loved all the kids, of course, but she reckoned he probably had a soft spot for his creator's daughter.

“I think she’d live in the Daycare if she could, to be honest,” Michael chuckled. If Mari could have a permanent slumber party on that padded floor surrounded by all her friends new and old, he just knew she’d be the happiest little robot in the world. While he couldn’t offer her that, Michael could give her a chance to experience something potentially just as exciting… He’d have to stop by on his way out to see if she’d be up for an adventure.

“Anyway, am I allowed to ask what you’re up to, or is it top secret?” Michael inquired, tilting his head towards the elevator as Sam let the doors close after staff finally got the mysterious object inside.

Sam looked around him and as the handy men loaded his project into the lift, he would let the door shut before saying anything—leaving quite the suspenseful beat for Sophie and Michael to endure. Then, he waved them closer and whispered just for their ears only. “It was a project I’d been working on for a while before this whole fiasco started. You guys remember Foxy the Pirate, right?”

Sophie’s eyes couldn’t get any bigger. Another employee passed them by to make use of the lift and Sam gently herded them both away while Sophie asked in awe: “Wait—was that why we couldn’t go to Parts & Service?”

“Mhm; partly,” Sam said, dodging her eye contact by pretending to look at his watch. “We are switching the department, however. I don’t know what we’re going to use that room for next. Maybe a break room—we just need more space for the newest animatronic line.”

The explanation eased Sophie’s conscience a little. The more she learned, the more most of this sounded like it was in the works for a very long time, and not just a spin on last ditch cover up.

“I’ll be powering him on shortly, but he needs to charge. I think someone accidentally left his roaming mode on sometime last week… You guys think Roxy’s ready to meet her brother?” he asked, hoping Roxy wouldn’t take it harshly to have a family member performing in the band with her.

“Holy shit,” Michael murmured under his breath, followed by a whispery chuckle. He knew it was coming, yet somehow the announcement of Foxy the Pirate Fox in the official lineup was still surprising. A bright smile lit up his face as the initial shock wore off.

“Sammy, this is awesome! And I think Roxy’s going to be just fine.” He snickered, lips twitching into more of a smirk. “She’ll have someone else to get into trouble with."

As way of explanation for his reaction to a refurbished children’s character, Michael told Sophie: “Foxy used to be my favorite as a kid.”

Sophie could see the way Michael brightened when speaking about the character and his hardwired personality. It gave away exactly who Mike’s favorite was. Sophie was interested in seeing how the animatronic was going to stack up against the already established cast.

“Foxy was so cool—” Sophie agreed, seeming to be a big of a fangirl herself of the rowdy cartoon pirate. “—did you tell any of the Glamrocks yet?”

With a finger pressed over his lips, Sam made a soft shushing sound.

“No, keep it a surprise until tonight. I’m going to get the band all together then introduce the old Fox. Mike, come up to my office after you’re done with check-ins.” Sam flashed him a self-satisfied smirk, taking pride in the thing he had created for the brand new line up. “I want you to be the first to see his design. I think you’ll appreciate the work I put into it.”

“Will do, boss-man,” Michael replied with an overzealous salute. He was desperately trying not to laugh, his movements seeming a bit manic for no apparent reason. It was simultaneously so ironic and entertaining that Mike already knew about the Glamrock Foxy model in a more intimate way than anyone but its AI would ever get to. He'd have to explain—and apologize on everyone's behalf—to Sam later this evening why the fox had disappeared from its hidden storage and “free roamed” over the weekend...

But even though they'd been bonded for the better part of twenty-four hours, Michael still hadn't gotten to meet Foxy's programmed personality like he'd done when hitching a ride with Freddy. A flush of childlike excitement filled his eyes as he thought of meeting what was sure to be the friendliest iteration of the fox to date. He had a few more things to do first, though.

“So it's back to the security office after this, right?” Michael asked Sophie, not intending to rush her but simply to indicate he'd like to get a move-on now that they'd confirmed they were still alive and well (to Sam's satisfaction, at least).

Sam may have given him a cockeyed glance. Michael's sudden bursts of mania usually meant there was something strange afoot. Though with nothing else to go by, he departed with an equally ironic salute to his two guards. With Sophie's attention back fully to Mike and her job, she grinned.

“You want to go see the Fox, huh?” she asked almost teasingly. Before he could answer her, seriously or otherwise, she raised her phone from her pocket and checked the time. “Yep—so looking around everywhere, if you're not distracted, should take about an hour.”

It was time to head on back to the main office. Sophie made conversation as she led them back to home base. “I don't blame you, though. You're lucky to be helping Sam work on those things. And I mean you... made it so far; so to speak. He must want your opinion on it as a mechanic.”

Clearly Sophie had paid attention to their introductions during the meeting and was fairly aware of the vast number of safety protocols they normally need for doing work on an animatronic.

Michael's enthusiastic smile slipped into one that was a little more subdued as he followed after his new coworker.

“Well, unlike most franchises, the owners of Fazbear Entertainment have always been rather hands-on,” he said. Contrary to his chipper personality moments before, Michael's tone was relatively flat. Not wanting her to perceive this as him being haughty, he was quick to add: “I learned a lot from my predecessors; probably more than ever wanted to know, honestly.”

He gave a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it's definitely useful when animatronics go on the fritz like they did this weekend. I really don't mind helping out with that sort of stuff if anyone ever needs it. To be honest, it can get kind of boring sitting in that security office all night...”

Not that I want any action—PLEASE let things stay calm for the foreseeable future... Michael silently prayed to whoever was listening.

Sophie nodded, taking in what he said. It would probably be useful to listen to him about the history of this place given how vested he was in the company from what she assumed was a young age. He was related to the original owners, too.

“Tell me about it. For the most part, the band and everyone else reminds people to behave. The day shift is here pretty much for making sure dads don't get into fights at Monty Golf and throw a putter through the set props...,” Sophie remarked so specifically, one would probably think she was speaking for a real experience. “But usually people behave. Unless they want to get shaken down by a bunch of giant robotic animals dressed like the Twisted Sister front-man...”

“Mm, yeah, I'd hate to be on any of those robots' bad sides,” Michael responded with a little hum. His eyes shifted around, unable to stay on Sophie for a moment as the previous weekend flashed through his mind in rapid succession. Oh how far those animatronics had come from their dirty, broken shambles as they chased down an innocent child with the intent of ripping him apart limb by limb...

A small shiver ran through his body, though Michael ignored this as they stepped into the safety of the central hub yet again. He stretched out his arms with a sigh, then plopped down in one of the swivel chairs and used the momentum to do a 360-degree spin, braking with his foot to grin up at Sophie.

“Thanks for showing me around,” he told her, already stealing a glance at the security feeds as was habit. When there was a set of monitors and live camera feeds in front of him, Michael had to watch them. Managing to reign in his gaze, he leaned casually back in the chair and looked to his coworker again. “I'll be sure to reach out if I need while I adjust to things around here.”

“No problem! I look forward working with you, Mike,” Sophie replied with a thumbs-up, before grabbing her coat from one of the storage lockers. Her footsteps disappeared down the hallway while Michael's phone buzzed in his back pocket. Charlie had been trying to reach him through text. There were several photo attachments.

Mike it's Charlie. How do you use clippers?

Like the electric ones for hair

OK I figured it out never mind.

OK maybe not. duck

I meant Duck not duck

The texts became decreasingly verbose as Charlie panicked. Then, there was an album, a photographic progression of a haircut Charlie was apparently giving to Gregory. There was hair everywhere as a shaggy mullet was now cut into the kid’s head. He stood on the bathroom sink, glaring into the camera as Charlie took pictures of him. She eventually figured out how to take a selfie in the ending photo, managing to get the boy to smile after styling the old school cut.

“No fucking way,” Michael chuckled to himself as he scrolled through the pictures. They were ridiculous, the lot of them...

Out of all potential hairstyles, she'd gone with a mullet? Well, it'd certainly be hard for the Smiths to recognize Gregory at first glance, that's for sure. Plus, Michael couldn't deny his soft spot for the style... Pulling up the virtual keypad, he typed a response as quick as his fingers would go.

Sorry, was getting a tour from Sophie; all done now. Gregory looks adorable... don't tell him I said that

I'm hanging out for a bit then coming back w/a surprise... be there in 1-2 hours, & we can go to the Pizzaplex together for night shift later

With that Michael slipped his phone back in his pocket, though he'd barely gotten to roll his chair into the prime camera-watching position before it buzzed again.

***

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