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salchat · 3 years

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The Yellow Room

It was the carving that triggered the memory; a small, rounded shape, which of course wasn’t an elephant, but fit into his hand in the way that he’d imagined those ebony elephants would have fit, had he dared to pick one up. John held the wooden animal now, and its curving sides were so smoothly polished that he could make it rotate just by the movement of fingers and thumb, over and over, the cool, slippery wood running across his palm, across the calluses on his fingers and the pad of his thumb.

He could buy it. Maybe he would, when Rodney had finished haggling over the collection of might-have-beens and maybes that he’d sorted out from the mass of treasures and junk. Maybe John would buy this little, hand-sized carving so that he could touch it whenever he wanted. He’d been far too scared to pick up one of the elephants; far too sad and confused.

They’d been visiting with his Grandma, who his Dad had taught him to address as Mrs Sheppard, so he did, because he always tried to do what his Dad told him to, even when he didn’t understand why. To himself he’d called her Grandma, though, because other people had grandmas and it sounded much nicer.

Her house hadn’t been nice. It was big, real big, but John couldn’t tell what most of the rooms were for. At home there was a room for eating, for watching TV, for playing games, for sleeping. There was the room where the big piano lived that John played sometimes, sitting on his Mom’s knee, pressing the keys she told him to press. And there was a room where you were supposed to sit and be polite and talk to strange people - he didn’t like that room. But at Grandma’s house, all the rooms were like that. There was a piano, but the lid was always shut and no one ever played it, not even Mom.

Mom was different at Grandma’s. She and Dad always said weird stuff beforehand, like ‘keep her sweet’ and ‘for the boys’ future’ and there was almost always an argument on the way home, where harsh, raised voices would fill the car and then Mom would cry which made John cry, which made Dad angry. Davey would cry too, but then he cried anyway because he was a baby.

John had made up his mind to be good that day, as good as he knew how; because he was almost certain that the car-arguments were his fault. After all, the grown-ups didn’t quarrel with Grandma. They were always real polite and nice to each other, even if their smiles didn’t ring true. John was the one who was constantly being told to stand up straight, keep his hands out of his pockets, do something with his hair (what? why?) and speak only when he was spoken to, as well as speak up and not mumble. So it must be his fault.

That day, he’d decided to be so good that no one would be able to find fault and then on the way home, they’d listen to music in the car and sing along like they did if they’d been on a day trip somewhere nice.

And to begin with, it had seemed like everything was going to work out fine. Grandma, no Mrs Sheppard, had opened the big, shiny door and led them into the hallway and she’d smiled and looked at Baby Davey, sitting up on Dad’s arm and her smile had broadened.

“How big he’s getting,” she’d said. “And how like his Grandpa! What a fine little man!”

Even John had had to admit Davey looked pretty good, for a baby. He’d had on a tiny little suit and tie and he could sit up straight now, not just slump in a heap in his highchair. His hair had grown in and it was soft and blonde and his Mom had damped it down and parted it with a precise line that ran straight to one temple, the hairs either side staying exactly in place.

Grandma had tickled his rounded cheek and he’d giggled and then she’d actually leant down and kissed him.

And she’d said again, “Just like his Grandpa! This one’s definitely a Sheppard!”

There’d been a subtle change in the atmosphere just then and, looking back, John wondered whether it was that as much as her repeated use of the word Grandpa that had led to his mistake. Tension between grown-ups had been nothing new to John and he didn’t usually try to do anything about it. But Grandma had kissed Baby Davey and she’d smiled at him and so she must like that kind of thing, even though Mom and Dad said she didn’t. And Dad was wrong about what she wanted to be called too - he must be. And also, standing straight and stiff and trying so hard to be good, to be ‘a Sheppard man’, John had just wanted someone to look at him the way she’d looked at his brother, to approve of him and kiss him and say what a fine young man he was growing up to be. He’d imagined them all smiling down at him the way they smiled at Baby Davey.

So he’d ran forward and opened his arms and said, (without any mumbling, because she didn’t like that), “Grandma!” And he’d hugged her, as far up as he could reach.

Or he would have, if she hadn’t taken a step back, her smiling face retreating behind a mask of distaste. Anger would’ve been better, somehow. An angry face and angry words were honest at least. As a small child, he hadn’t even had words for her expression, but now, a grown man, standing at a market stall on an alien planet, John could easily name contempt, derision and disappointment.

He remembered his mother’s indrawn breath and his father’s harsh bark, his name used as a rebuke. “John!”

He’d stopped, his arms falling to his sides, all his vows and wishes to be good shattered. This was bad. He’d been bad. He’d looked around at his Mom’s pale face and tight mouth, his Dad’s heavily frowning brows and accusing eyes and then back at his Grandma’s, no Mrs Sheppard’s upturned chin and sneer of condemnation.

But now, still holding the carved wooden animal, John huffed a soft breath of bitter laughter. No wonder he could face down a Wraith queen. No wonder he stayed stiff and straight under the disapproval of superior officers. He’d been trained for it.

And then he’d made it even worse, because he knew he’d disappointed all of them and there’d be an argument - no, a row, a furious ferocious row in the car on the way home, and it would all be his fault because he hadn’t been good, because he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough to be a Sheppard. His chest had tightened and jerked, his throat had closed up so much that it hurt and his face had begun to crumple, no matter how hard he’d tried to keep it straight.

And now, all these long years later, he wondered if the jerk of his father’s head had been as much a thing of mercy as the curt dismissal that he’d thought it to be at the time. Because Sheppard men didn’t cry. That was a rule he’d learned by heart, even at that age. So he’d walked away. He’d walked, not run and he’d opened the door to the entrance porch and gone through it and shut it behind him, hearing three pairs of feet slowly retreating from the shiny wooden entrance floor into one of the many rooms where people sat and were polite to each other. He’d stay here, because he couldn’t be polite. He’d tried and he’d failed.

“You have got to be kidding me! Thirty? For this heap of junk?”

“That is quality merchandise, sir! It is worth fifty easily!”

Rodney should leave the bargaining to Teyla. She’d get him a good deal. But still, if Rodney had a good rant at the stallholder now, maybe he’d get it out of his system for a few days.

A gust of cold wind made the awning above the stall snap. There was rain in the air.

It had been raining that day, the day of the visit; raining and cold, and John, in the square space between outer and inner door, his only company an umbrella stand and its contents, had begun to shiver. The doors rattled in their frames and every time the inner door rattled he’d jumped because he’d thought someone was coming to get him and then the yelling’d start.

But he was cold and they’d gone into one of the big rooms and there were plenty of other places in the house where an unwanted boy could sit and wait - places that might be a bit warmer. So, John had turned the big round handle and eased the door open, slowly, slowly, wincing at the creak of the hinge and then wincing even more as he closed it behind him and the handle turned back into place with a click.

No one had come out, though, so he’d stepped forward, his best, shiniest shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. To his right was the room with the piano, but he wouldn’t go in there because then he’d want his Mom to come and sit him on her knee and play the piano around him and that was almost like having a hug, so he wouldn’t think about that. Maybe he’d only get hugs if he and his Mom were alone together now. In fact, maybe that was another rule. Maybe it was like the crying thing - you could do it as a baby, but once you got to John’s age, that was it, no more hugs.

His eyes had blurred. He’d sniffed, wiped the sleeve of his scratchy jacket across his face, swallowed hard and walked on. Past the dining room, where he had to slowly and carefully eat everything on his plate, even if it was liver and really, really green, bitter vegetables. Past the other sitting room, where you sat after dinner, as if the chairs in the other room could only take so much sitting in one day. He could go in there, but it wasn’t after dinner, so that was another rule he’d be breaking.

And there was another door. He didn't know what was behind it. Could it be a games room? Or might there be a TV? He turned the handle and pushed it open and the door brushed softly over a thick, golden carpet. The room was yellow. All golden and yellow, but not the gold and yellow of flowers or sunshine or new, bright things, but the old, faded gold of another place where you had to be polite and respectful. The heavy hangings at the window were thick, shiny fabric with big tassels holding them back, and even the walls were goldy-yellow with a repeating pattern of curly flower-things that looked like they’d be velvety if you dared to touch them. It was a rich, old, be-on-your-best-behaviour room. John went in anyway, because it was smaller than the other rooms and not so forbidding, although it seemed like this room probably didn’t want him here either.

He closed the door softly behind himself and trod slowly and carefully across the carpet. Maybe he should’ve taken his shoes off. They didn’t usually do that at Grandma’s house, because they were in their best things and he supposed it’d look pretty weird going around in just socks when the rest of you was all fine and neat. And their best shoes only ever went from the car straight into the house anyway. Nevertheless, he picked up one foot and then the other and inspected their soles. But, standing on one leg, he wobbled and flung out a hand for balance. His fingertips brushed over something hard and there was a rattle of a fragile thing about to fall. John’s heart pounded hard and his ears fizzed in terror. If he broke something, if he knocked over a precious antique and actually broke it - it was so awful a thought that he couldn’t even imagine the consequences. It wouldn’t just be yelling. He’d probably be sent away somewhere for bad children that couldn’t behave.

But nothing was broken. It was an elephant, in fact a row of elephants on a small, round side table. It hadn’t even fallen. All was as it should be, the three elephants arranged in order of decreasing size, traversing the tabletop in organised, trunk-to-tail dignity.

John was jerked out of his memory by a jostle to his shoulder and an arm reaching in front of him to sort through a stack of fabric. He needed to focus. Just because Ronon and Teyla were circling the stall, infiltrating the crowd, didn’t mean he could afford to daydream.

But the carved alien animal was warm and heavy in John’s hand, pulling him back into his past. Were those long-ago elephants as heavy for their size? They had probably been made from ebony, or some other endangered hardwood. And their tiny white tusks had certainly been real ivory, stolen from some poor elephants killed on the distant African savannah.

He’d wanted to touch them. He’d wanted to so badly, to see if holding their rounded wooden bodies in his hands would go any way toward taking away the ache in his chest, the emptiness in his arms and heart. He’d wanted to pick up the big Daddy elephant and turn it toward the Mommy and put the baby elephant in between them, guarded by both of their long, dangling trunks. And then he could’ve made them roam over the golden carpet like real elephants across the sandy grassland, and the two big ones would’ve made sure the baby was safe and helped him up if he fell, curling their trunks around his body and setting him back on his feet.

But even though he’d wanted to, he hadn’t touched them. John had kept his arms by his sides, his hands empty, dangling quietly, not in his pockets, not doing anything that anyone could say was bad or wrong. He just stood on the carpet, not even sitting down on the low, padded chair that was the same colour as the walls and the curtains, not even moving closer to the little round table that was the elephants’ domain. He just stood, wondering if he was like the elephants - just someone small and not real. He wasn’t a real Sheppard. He couldn’t be, because he wanted to be hugged and sometimes he needed to cry, and Sheppard men didn’t do either of those things.

“Are you buying that?”

He didn’t remember how the day had ended. He didn’t remember if anyone came to find him or if he’d made his way back through the hallway and waited until they went home. He certainly didn’t remember the inevitable row in the car.

“Sheppard, are you buying that? Hey, you! You can have forty if you throw in this elephant thing!”

John shivered. There was water running down his neck and the awning was snapping and flapping in sharp gusts of wind. Rodney was handing over some trading tokens, his wet hair plastered to his head, his cheeks tinged pink with cold. He nodded to the trader and began packing a slew of items into a wooden crate.

“D’you want to put that in here or are you still bonding?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been playing with it for ages. Who is it? Dumbo? Nelly?”

“It’s not an elephant.”

“As good as.” Rodney paused in his packing. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“John?” Rodney, hand on hip, eyes narrowed, communicating through body language and willpower alone. They’d had an agreement about this - honesty, about feelings as well as physical stuff. “I repeat, are you okay?”

“Uh, well. This thing reminded me of something.”

“Oh. Something good or something bad? We don’t have to take it if it’s something bad! I can renegotiate. Hey, you!”

The stallholder kept his back deliberately turned.

“No, it’s okay, Rodney.” John tucked the elephant-thing in a pouch in his vest. “It’s kind of not good. But I think… maybe I can make it better?”

“Oh. Right. So, I can expect the full story when we get home?”

“Yeah. The full story.”

Rodney nodded in satisfaction. “Right, where’s the muscle when you need him. Ronon? I bet he’s found a bar to prop up. Ronon!”

John smiled and picked up the crate. And as they made their way back to the Gate, the four of them together, he almost didn’t mind the thought of pouring out his childhood memory to Rodney. He almost didn’t want to run away and hide and stamp everything down until he could reappear, blank-faced and stoic. Because with Rodney, there were hugs every day. With Rodney, you could cry if you needed to. And with Ronon and with Teyla. And maybe he didn’t make a habit of hugging his Marines and crying on their shoulders, but if they came to him with issues that needed that kind of thing he didn’t tell them to man up or expect them to stamp it all down, to bury their feelings.

He was learning. Slowly, gradually, he was learning that this Sheppard man could hug and he could cry and he could do all those things that he’d been taught were so wrong.

And when he got home, back to Atlantis, back to the rooms he shared with Rodney, he’d set the elephant-thing on the nightstand; the thing which wasn’t an elephant. It would glow golden-brown when he turned on the bedside light and he’d pick it up whenever he wanted and hold it in his hands until it grew warm from his touch - just like he’d grown warm from the touch of his friends.

He’d tell Rodney his story about the yellow room and the elephants, and then he’d be held, wrapped in warmth, and if he needed to he could cry all those tears that he’d kept inside himself when he was just a boy, just a little boy who wanted to be loved.

#stargate atlantis fanfic #mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #angst #sentimental

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

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A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 24

First

People were starting to settle down as the night stretched on.

Chat felt kind of weird about the sleepover, if he was being honest. He was technically the host, but he hadn’t planned any of the activities. They also hadn’t let him help out at all. Sure, it seemed they were throwing the sleepover for him, but it felt weird to not be involved at all when it was being held in his own room.

(He also wasn’t stupid enough to think that they had decided to do the sleepover for purely innocent reasons. Rena and Ladybug were paying just a little bit too much attention for it to be mere curiosity. He had nothing to hide except for the trash and clothes he’d stuffed in his closet to make his room look cleaner, though, so he was fine with it.)

Still, it was kind of nice.

He looked at the other four.

Carapace was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, his back facing away from everyone as he worked on his bracelets. He was singing random showtunes to himself, but his singing was getting cut off at random due to his giggles at whatever he was doing. Chat tried to peek over his shoulder and Carapace gave an overexaggerated gasp and flung himself across the floor to keep the bracelets out of his sight.

“No peeking!”

“Alright! Alright!” Said Chat, shaking his head exasperatedly even as a smile threatened to make its way across his face.

Carapace narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously for a moment before slowly returning to his spot.

Ladybug was apparently only half awake, though it was hard to tell if this was the effect of the wine or the lack of coffee. Carapace had given her his hoodie when he’d seen her shivering and now she was swamped in the fabric. This didn’t seem to bother her, though, as she barely swayed in time with his singing.

Rena had finished all her bracelets for everyone already, opting to just make braids of each of their costume colors. Now she was weaving thread into Chloe’s hair.

Chloe was putting the finishing touches on her fifth bracelet. They were all the same, alternating black and yellow threads. Still, it took a while to make all the knots necessary for hers.

He looked down at the friendship bracelet attempts in his hands and bit his lip. The strings he’d chosen were knotted and bent awkwardly and, really, it was beyond repair --.

He gave up, tossing down the attempts and grabbing new strings. He started just spelling out everyone’s hero names on strings that were the colors of everyone’s eyes.

“Done,” he said, his ears burning with shame. He didn’t know anything about friendship bracelets or friendships and general and if it wasn’t clear to everyone before they’d definitely have figured it out now --.

“Wow. Amazing job, Chat. You’re a master craftsman,” said Chloe, sarcasm dripping from every letter she spoke.

“You… you don’t have to wear it.”

Chloe scoffed. “Shut up. I’m never taking it off.”

“Oh… but you don’t have to, really --.”

“I’m. Wearing. It. Screw. Off.”

“... okay,” he said, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

He gave everyone else theirs and, though he noticed they were all putting them on their ankles where they’d be harder for people to see, he couldn’t help but be happy that they were accepting them at all.

Carapace held up his five completed bracelets with a bright smile. “Tada!”

He walked around and started tying them to everyone’s wrists.

Chat saw both of the bugs look confused as they read over the block letters on theirs, Rena gave a short puff of laughter when she saw hers, and then he finally got to see his...

FURRY.

He rolled his eyes at Carapace but let him tie the bracelet to his ankle.

“What’s a ‘buggie’?” Said Chloe in a voice that said she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know.

“It’s a furry, but for bugs.”

“... how do you know that?” Asked Ladybug, sinking back into Carapace’s/her hoodie with a yawn.

“A few years back I joked that I was a furry and someone told me I was technically a ‘scaley’. Obviously, I had to know if everyone else was a furry after that or something else.”

Rena snickered. “Likely story.”

“It’s true!”

“Hm. Sure. Chloe, I’m done with you. Ladybug --.”

“I have an important meeting for work tomorrow, sorry.”

“Fine. Chat, c’mere.”

He hesitated before he made his way over and allowed her to start messing with his hair obediently.

Chloe shuffled over to Ladybug. There was a beat before Ladybug lifted the bottom of the hoodie and allowed Chloe to climb inside.

Carapace groaned. “Why are you stretching out my hoodie?”

Ladybug smiled and brought a hand up to stretch the neck so Chloe could pop her head out the top. “Forgot it was yours, honestly.”

“I hate you.”

“Guess I won’t fix this, then.”

“Wait -- Ladybug -- listen -- I didn’t mean it --.”

Ladybug and Chloe laid back and stuck their tongues out at him in unison. Carapace glared halfheartedly at them for a little while before walking over and laying on top of them.

“Ughhhh get off you’re heavy,” complained Ladybug. “You’re going to crush me.”

“Good. I’m squashing two annoying bugs.”

“Renaaaaa,” tried Chloe.

“Can’t help right now, I’m doing Chat’s hair.”

“Rena,” tried Carapace.

There was a moment’s hesitation before Rena gently tugged Chat over so she could help Carapace smother the two and still add colors to his hair.

“Nooooooo…”

“Chat help,” Ladybug squeaked, reaching out a hand in an attempt to pull him closer for help.

He considered the hand for a minute before pointedly looking away, a smile pulling at his lips.

Ladybug mumbled a curse and resigned herself to the fate of being crushed under three of her housemates.

Rena eventually finished with his hair and she took a picture to show him the results. He’d always wanted to do stuff with his hair, and since his haircolor was so light it wouldn’t have been hard, but his dad had never allowed it…

He smiled brightly and sent it to himself.

Rena shielded her eyes and he looked up at her, his smile dropping into a confused frown.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re, like… sunshine incarnate. Can’t look at you dead on, it’s too bright.”

“Right? He could give Adrien Agreste a run for his money,” joked Carapace.

He wasn’t sure if he was blushing because his housemates thought of him like that or because his civilian identity was apparently that popular. Still, he brought a hand up to cover his mouth as a new smile stretched across his face.

Rena slipped off of the pile of miraculous holders easily and took a seat about a meter away with her phone, leaning back in a pile of pillows. “Carapace, Ladybug, both of you should get to sleep. You both have stuff in the morning.”

“But --,” tried Carapace.

“I WILL knock you out if I have to. And there’s no coffee to keep you awake.”

The two groaned quietly and Carapace fell beside the two bugs. Instead of leaving, though, he just grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around the three of them.

Chloe scoffed and started shifting around in the blanket/hoodie prison she was currently trapped in. “Hey, let me out, I’m not tired yet.”

Ladybug and Carapace wrapped an arm around her and held her still before she could get up. “We have to sleep, you have to sleep.”

“I don’t --.”

“Pillows don’t talk,” said Ladybug, nuzzling her face into Chloe’s neck with a yawn.

Chloe didn’t look particularly happy about it, but she did quiet herself.

Carapace reached his free hand towards Chat without looking over and he stared at it before taking it. He was pulled down to join the cuddle pile so fast that they knocked heads. There was a mumbled ‘ow’ and a hiss of pain, but otherwise it was hard to tell that it had happened.

Rena tossed a pillow at the lightswitch, which was… odd, but it did turn off the lights, so… yay?

He closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around Carapace’s stomach. He could hear the others’ steady breathing as they drifted off one by one.

But, for once, Chat wasn’t finding it easy to sleep.

Some things are easy to ignore.

For example, Chat could, for the most part, ignore the knowledge that he was likely the only person in the house who was genuinely interested in being friends. Everyone else was perfectly happy being friendly (because who wants to fight people in their own house?), but that’s not nearly the same thing.

But, since Chat was starved for affection, he opted to ignore what he knew to be the truth. Did it really matter if Carapace was only allowing him to hang off of him for the sake of preventing a strong akuma if he was getting the physical touch he hadn’t received since his mother had died? Did it really matter if Ladybug was only playing nicer for the sake of convenience if it meant he could get compliments from her instead of insults?

Kinda. But he was willing to push those thoughts aside.

And, while he wanted to ignore this problem too, he really shouldn’t. Their safety was much too important for that.

There should be very few people that knew where they were. There were the people who Chloe had hired to help her move in, Master Fu, each other...

But that didn’t explain why Chat’s room was left untouched.

The only thing that made sense for that was his dad… He tried to brush the thought aside like he had been doing for the entire night, but it was far more difficult when the others were asleep and weren’t serving as a distraction.

Would his dad sell him out? Sure, their relationship wasn’t near ‘close’, but that didn’t mean that his father hated him, right? His dad had known for a while, though, almost since the beginning. Why would he sell out now? The information was slightly more valuable now that they were living together, yes, but was that enough to make him betray his son for a super terrorist?

Worse yet, could his father be Hawkmoth? He didn’t think so, because his father had been akumatized multiple times, but there was nothing saying Hawkmoth couldn’t akumatize himself. Then again, he’d been pretty interested in Chat’s ring when he realized who he was… or was that just innocent curiosity? He also lived in the center of the area that Ladybug had mentioned she’d traced the akumas to, but so did every rich person --.

Carapace pulled him closer, his hand sliding up his back to work at a knot in his back.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” Chat teased, even as he pressed his face against his shoulder.

“You’re too tense.”

He let himself relax a bit. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault you’re the worst pillow ever.”

“Even worse than Chloe?”

“Somehow,” said Carapace, and Chat could almost hear the smile in his voice.

And, because it’s really hard to have bad thoughts when you’re cuddling a friend and getting a massage, Chat fell asleep in minutes.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write @trippingovermyfeet @melicmusicmagic

#a miraculous tiktok account #chat noir #adrien agreste #carapace #nino lahiffe #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #rena rouge #alya cesaire #queen bee #chloe bourgeois #miraculous team #miraculous fic #ml fic #mlb #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

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gucciwins · 4 years

Text

Into You

Breakup’s bring heartache but they also bring a new beginning.

Word Count: 8658

A/N: Angst, it was fun to write. Honestly, I really loved this ending. I struggle with endings but this felt like the perfect one. Relationships take work and no communication can ruin that. Remember to love and to trust. I love you

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Julia: Dinner at 7 Cafe Habana

Julia: He won't be there

You sigh at the sight of the second message. It's pathetic that your friends have to let you know, but you don't want to run right into him. It is the last thing you need but the thing you want most.

Pathetic.

Y/N: I'll be there x

You look at the text you sent and sign grateful for her reaching out. You haven't seen your friends in a few weeks, and it's been months since you've been to your favorite restaurant. Everyone knows how hard it's been since the breakup. They aren't choosing sides, but sharing a lot of the same friends is hard. You live in the city, and he's always on the road, it's only fair he gets to go out with them because you know you'll have other opportunities.

You wore a comfortable sundress and black flats, not wanting to drive in heels. A gold bracelet on your wrist, fingers bear no rings like you usually did. A ring tan sitting on your right index finger makes your eyes foggy, but you shake the thought away and enjoy the ride down PCH window down the ocean breeze coursing through your hair. Joni Mitchell on blast to overpower your thoughts of memories connected to this exact drive you're making.

Walking in, you take a deep breath and smile as soon as you open the door. The smile drops instantly when you see who's sitting two seats away from Julia right next to Jeff. Brown curls and a broad back. Tattoo's on display. You see her mouth an apology and lifts her phone. You walk out without a second thought, hoping they didn't see you.

Your phone rings once you're back in your car. It's Julia, so you answer.

"Hey babe, I didn't know I swear. He walked in with Jeff talking about how he was here for the weekend then going back home to London."

"It's fine, toots." You sigh.

"Are you doing okay?" She asks voice a bit low.

You're trying to choke back your tears, but it's hard. It's hard because he's so close yet so far. He seems fine, perfect even, and here you are crying in your car like a loser.

"It hurts, and it hurts to know he's fine. He's not hurting like I am. I miss-" You cut yourself off as you feel your tears falling down like a waterfall. "I want the pain to pass."

"Sweetie, do you want me to meet you at your apartment?"

"No, just let them know my sister called me and that it was a family emergency, but everything is fine. I'm going to head to her house for the weekend. Hug, my nephews. Stuff my face in cupcakes."

"As long as you promise to bring me one."

You laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. "That I can do."

"Next Saturday, Alex's birthday. Say you'll show up for him."

"I'm there. Got his gift all wrapped up."

"You're not alone." She reminds you. "Despite all you think, you're still our friend."

"Thank you. I love you, toots."

You know breakups are never easy, but this one flipped your entire world upside down. You're not sure what's up or down, left or right. All you know is you gotta keep putting one foot in front of the other.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The music is loud. It hurts your head, and you can't hear yourself think.

It's perfect.

It's been so long since you allowed yourself to go out and drink. A party with friends is a guaranteed good time.

You decided to dress up. The way you dress is an excellent way to hide your emotions or so you've been told. A black dress, your favorite black dress. The little back dress that every woman is supposed to own. You paired it with red heels your sister gifted you two Christmas ago. Makeup was simple, but you did go with a bold red lip. It always made you feel more confident.

You're three shots in when you hear a voice behind you. You ignore it at first but turn around when they say your name.

"Jake?"

"In the flesh." He jokes.

"Oh my gosh!" You bring him in a hug before pulling back to get a good look at him. "I didn't know you were in town. Do you know Alex?"

"No, his sister is my girlfriend."

Your eyes widen. "No, we talk once a week, and you've never mentioned the girlfriend. Since when?" You punch his shoulder.

"We've been together close to eight months now." A big grin on his face.

"My best friend is all grown up. Committed relationship, met the family, next is moving in or baby if you're following your dad's footsteps." You tease.

"No, baby, but we are moving in together. My lease in Seattle is up, and she has hers for another year."

"I'm happy for you." You place a hand on his forearm, letting it rest there. "She's amazing, and we get along so well. It's perfect."

He nods, and you keep chatting as if no time has passed. It's comfortable with Jake, he's been your best friend since childhood, and although your sister thought you'd end up together, it just didn't work. You kissed once, and it was like kissing a wall. It's a sibling love, one that will never fade.

He clears his throat, causing you to look at him. "I heard about," You cut him off before he can continue.

"Think everyone has, but I'm good. I won't lie and say I've been fine because I haven't been, but I'm getting better." You tell him truthfully.

"Was it bad?"

You run a hand through your hair. "Awful. No yelling, we never liked to yell just lots of crying. I did the crying, and he did the heartbreaking."

He nods and hands you another shot that you accept happily.

"I was so lost the first week that I thought about moving from the state, the country." You laugh at the thought now. "But here is home, at least for now."

"Have you seen him? I know he always disliked me."

"That is true, could never get him to see you were just Jess to my Cece."

"Obviously, I was Cece." He fakes a hair flip.

"Well, of course, all I do is go home and break out singing to any song."

"Never change, buttercup." He kisses your head and then tenses up.

"Think I'd be six feet under if laser eyes existed."

"What makes you say that." You go to turn around, but he doesn't let you.

"He's at a table with Alex. Drink in hand, looking our way, and he doesn't look happy. Do you think he's going to march this way?" His hold tight on you.

You groan and lay your head on his chest. "If he made eye contact with you, then yes, he'll be over soon, so that means you got to go find your girlfriend, and I need the bartender's attention."

"Always a phone call away. We leave on Friday, dinner Wednesday." Jake walks away and quickly finds Annie. He whispers in her ear, and she looks your way. A big smile on her face and you blow her a kiss. She grabs it and stuffs it in her boobs. Annie's a weird one, but she's the best.

Knowing he's watching you makes you uncomfortable. He wasn't supposed to be here, this was your night, and now you just want to cry, don't even care about drinking anymore.

You walk out to the balcony and smile at the sight of the moon. LA doesn't allow much stargazing, but the moon always shines bright. Now would be a perfect time for a smoke, except you don't do that. Always were miss goody-two-shoes.

"Nice night." His voice interrupts your thoughts. "A bit chilly for Los Angeles." The deep, smooth voice sends chills down your body, not the weather.

"Weather is always unpredictable here." You mutter.

"How you've been," Harry asks, stepping closer.

"Fabulous."

Sarcastic answer. How typical of you.

"I haven't been that good either."

You're close to tears. "What do you want, Harry?"

"I wanted to check on you. Haven't seen you at any gathering of our friends." He twists his H ring, keeping his hands busy. "Bit worried."

"They're your friends, don't get no right going anymore."

Harry's three steps away. "Not true, everyone in there cares for you. Just because we-" He stops.

He can't even say it. He broke up with you, and he can't even say it.

"They all love you."

"Yeah, well, I wish I loved myself."

Harry flinches as if you've slapped him. The words hurt him, but not as much as they hurt you.

"Don't say that, love."

You turn to him. "I'm sure you want to be friends, and that's great, but I can't now." You let your tears run down your face, not caring that he can see. "I love you, and I was sure you were it for me, but I can't stand being around you without wanting your arms around me. I can't see you talk to everyone yet, not talk to me, but most importantly, I hate that I don't get to be the one going home with you anymore."

Harry remains quiet. Green eyes are filled with tears.

"You have to understand."

"No" You step close to him, heart close to beating out of your chest. "You have to understand that you destroyed us for your career. To benefit yourself, not caring what you broke along the way. It's been one month, and all I can think is that I'm not good enough for Harry Styles, the rockstar. No, he needs another famous person on his arm, not an elementary school teacher who doesn't own a pair of Gucci shoes."

"Please let me," Harry's voice cracks.

"A year. Twelve months. 365 days. All for what, all for nothing. "I love you," and "we'll have a small wedding." It was all a lie. I was just kept around for fun while you took a break from touring. Maybe I'll be good enough to write a song about."

"You don't get to do that." He cries.

"Why not!" You tell. "You broke up with me with no warning out of the blue. We had sex on the kitchen counter, and fourteen hours later, you broke my heart." You have so much sadness and anger, and you know you're close to drowning. "I had no choice but to let you go, but for all I know, you've let go of me weeks before."

"I don't know what to say."

"You're not the man I thought you were." You walk away from the hand on the door. Your back to him, his shoulders are shaking in sobs. "That's the most disappointing thing, you lost yourself in the industry now you're just one of them."

You walk out and catch Julia's eyes. She goes to step forward but stops herself when she sees you shake your head no. You can name everyone in that room, but you know that at the end of the day they'll pick Harry.

It hurts, but all one can do is pick themselves up and move on.

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The days go by slow, but Summer has finally arrived. The California heat is only rising, but it’s a cooler day, and you're at the beach when you look over at your sister laughing as her husband splashes her with water.

Your stomach twists in the worst ways possible, you're jealous and green isn't a good color. You've spent most of the time caring for your two nephews seeing as your sister and husband worked not that you minded you did have the summer off.

It's been four months since the breakup, and some days it feels like it was yesterday. The pain comes crashing back when you wake up and stretch your hand out to touch him but tense up because you know when you open your eyes, he won't be there.

Malibu beach is not a place you've frequented, but little Ty asked for this specifically, and none of you never learned how to tell him no.

You close your book and grab your phone from the bottom of the bag. Slip your hoodie over your head, the breeze picking it up, and adjust your black shorts. You signal to Tess that you're going for a walk and that you have her phone. She sends a thumbs up. There you go on a walk with your back towards the sun.

It's funny, before dating Harry you walked the beach every Sunday on your own. Enjoying the laugh of families and the seagulls flying high. Then he joined you and together hand in hand, you'd walk down talking and sometimes just taking in the silence allowing the waves to do all the talking for you. Towards the end, he'd convince you to stay in and cuddle him, and beach Sunday became cuddle Sundays. You can’t remember a time you did go on a walk alone again when you were with him.

In the end, you lost both. Lost Harry and lost the love of the ocean because of the painful memories tied to it. With time you must remember the things lost and changed, but this is something you're reclaiming. Routine is constant and good. It gives stability and strength.

"Sweetie," you hear someone yell but keep on walking. It's probably a child going in too deep.

You stop when you hear your name being yelled and turn expecting to see Tess but instead are met with kind blue eyes. A sincere smile on her face. It's Anne.

"Oh dear, thought it was you." She says.

"Hi, Anne." You say a bright look of surprise on your face.

Anne steps in close and puts her arms around you in a big hug. A mother's embrace is one you've longed for and will continue to long for the rest of your life. Anne treated you as a daughter from the moment you met, and that's something you're sad to have lost.

"You look so tan, how long have you been in town?" You ask, admiring her as you pull away.

"A week. Came down to visit Harry." She offers a small smile at the name of her son.

"That's great. Summer's a good time to enjoy the ocean here." Anne nods, agreeing. "How were you able to spot me?" You ask genuinely surprised she was able to do so.

"I'd recognize you anywhere. The yellow jumper helped."

You look down and chuckle. "It does shout "look at me.""

You stand there a few more seconds looking around nervous to ask her to join you, but you really liked her company, and as much as you like being alone now was not the time.

"I was just walking down, would you like to join me?" You look down at your toes afraid she'd say no.

"Oh, yes, my dear. Sounds fantastic."

She takes a step forward, and off you go. It's quiet, not the uncomfortable kind, but allows you to get lost in your own thoughts with no pressure of not starting a conversation. Your thoughts are calm, it might be the ocean or Anne, but you're grateful. Losing Harry wasn't just losing him, it was losing everyone that he introduced you to. You were friends for over a year before you started to date. You met Anne a month into the friendship, and it was easy. She doted on you for your kind and quiet nature. She had said something about your aura being pure.

You didn't have a mom, she died when you were three in a car accident. Your dad being in and out of rehab but enough to keep the roof over your head. Once Tess turned eighteen, she got an apartment and moved you both in. At eleven years old, you got the call your dad died. Tess adopted you, and ever since then, it was the two of you. That is until she met Andrew in a biology class. He helped Tess pass with an A. Turns out that he was studying to be a doctor. They started dating once the semester was over and didn't look back. Tess was always a good student, maintaining A's and B's while caring for you. Andrew learned of the situation and didn't leave like most people would do no, he stayed right there. He became a constant and even began to help with school work and projects. You always told Tess that you were preparing her to be a great mom. Andrew's family was very accepting of Tess; they treated her as their own, but you never felt like you belonged. It was the perfect family, but you didn't see where you fit in. Tess knew that, but she reminded you that she wasn't going to walk away from you that you would always be her number one. To this day, it stands true, obviously falling a little under her children, but love still strong.

But with Anne, she didn't see you as someone broken or lost but someone who needed a bit more love. Love is what she has given you, she became your friend, someone you could trust in along with Gemma. It felt like your world was falling apart when Harry broke up with you because you couldn't turn to them, and your sister had her family to worry about. You always were good at becoming unseen when needed. Never wanting to be a bother. Except, here with her by your side, you don't know how you're supposed to let her go.

Anne stops walking and takes a seat in the sand, placing her sandals by her side, and you join her without questioning her.

"I waited for your phone call. Every day for the past week when Harry gave me the news even though I knew you wouldn't call." Anne cleared her throat softly. "I hoped you would."

You sigh. Those words were enough to bring tears to your eyes. You thought you were dried out of tears, but you were wrong. "I was close on many nights but- I-I it felt wrong too. He's your son, how could I do that to him?"

"He may be my son, but you're important too. My heart has enough space in there for you in a relationship with him or not."

You nod. Trying to wrap that around your head that she loves you even though Harry does not.

"The breakup came out of nowhere. The day before we're fine talking about adopting a cat and the next, he sits me down to tell me we're breaking up." You block the memories trying to resurface and trace small circles on the sand.

You did out a seashell and cleaned it off before asking your question.

"Did he tell you why he was doing it?" It hurts to ask, but you need to know if he was honest with her.

Anne sighs but nods. "He said that it wasn't going to work out. You couldn't handle the public eye anymore and that it would only continue to affect you and your job. Said something about not fitting the image."

A tear falls down, but you're quick to wipe it away. "He sat me down and told me we were breaking up. Didn't let me ask why or anything. A year together is nothing in this industry, we barely made it a month to the public eye. You'll be forgotten quickly, also tell me that because he was working on the new album, he needed an image more than the one he had."

"That's not who I raised him to be," Anne says, disappointment evident in her voice.

"Although he broke my heart, I still love him. I still love him as much as I did when we first got together. I just don't trust him."

Anne grabs your hand and links it together. She anchors you together because although she knows that she said you can count on her, this would most likely be the end of your relationship. Neither of you wants to admit it.

"It's funny, the first month I avoided every place we ever went together, and it was hard because we did a lot around here. There are roads I avoid completely. This is my second time back at this beach, and I loved it here." You run a hand through your tangled hair due to the ocean breeze. "But now I'm going back to these places, and I pray every time I get out of the car not to run into him even though that's exactly what I want to happen. It's cliche, I know, but I really did lose my best friend." The tears are falling silently, and you are grateful Anne doesn't comment on it, but you swear you can see her eyes glisten. You rest your head on her shoulder and look out at the waves, no clouds in sight, just a clear blue sky. How you wish your brain would look this blank.

There's so much you want to tell Harry now months after the breakup, but there's the fear of breaking down in front of him.

"Anne"

"Yes, darling." She responds softly.

"I-I uh-" You clear your throat. "If I were to give you a letter to Harry, would you give it to him. There are some things I need to get off my chest, and he needs to know."

"That I can do."

You sit up and grab both her hands and bring them to your chest. She looks at your love and sadness in her eyes. "You can only give it to him when you know he's better. He will need to hear this later when our hearts don't ache as much. When you as a mom realize he needs it. It'll be the closure we both need."

"I promise."

You make plans to meet for breakfast the next morning as she has no plans and knows he's busy. You'll deliver the letter and be on your way, closing that door behind you. You spend half an hour together more before you walk her down to the pier and make your way back to your sister. Heart heavy but not as broken.

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You roll over and smile when you see Harry still asleep. He's lying on his stomach, and his head turned in your direction. You lay on your side, happy to admire him. There's a hint of a smile on his face, must be from the dream he is having. His long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, looking delicate and fragile. Not an inch of stress on his face. You can't help yourself and bring your index finger up to trace over his plump pink lips. Soft. You stop when you see him twitch a little but continue when he lets out a small snore. The room is quiet; your apartment is not located on a busy street, something your sister said was a must for when your nephews came to stay. You let Harry rest and get up going to the living room. You sit on the floor looking out at the window at the birds flying around, chirping away basking in the morning sun. You hear the creek of your door and know Harry is on his hunt for you. He's clumsy, so you won't be surprised if he crashes into the couch. He still must be tired. You hear a quiet "shit" and let out a chuckle. He stumbled around the corner with his misplaced shoes. You don't comment on it knowing he'd just turn the blame on you because he got out of bed for you.

"Poppet, after last night, I thought you'd like to wake up in my arms." Harry sits behind you, the blanket wrapped around him now being placed over you as he drags you into his lap.

"I'm an early riser, you know that."

He sighs into your ear. "Means I didn't tire you out enough last night."

"Oh no, you did just that. The bruises are proof."

He laughs and kisses your neck lightly three times.

"Coffee in the kitchen if you want some. Also, some muffins Gabby bought me for taking her dog on the hike with me."

"I want something else for breakfast." He whispers into your ear. His hand sliding up your thigh. He's met with your black shorts, he knows there is nothing underneath seeing as he put these on for you. "Will you let me?"

"Only cause you asked nicely."

Harry is quick to lay you on your back. Your shorts come off just as quickly, he pushes your shirt up to expose your breasts. He sits back on his knees and allows you to see how hard he is in his shorts.

"You're beautiful" He breathes out. "A true dream."

"You told me that last night repeatedly." You remind him how he whispered in your ear at dinner with your friends around how the red dress had him hard as soon as he saw you walk in. You knew that if he picked you up, you would not have left your apartment. The night ended precisely how you wanted with Harry in your bed. Three months dating, it felt right.

It was perfect.

He leans in, placing small kisses on your calves, slowly moving up to your thighs. He kissed last night's bruises gently, a reminder of how rough he got once he got a taste of you. It drove him crazy.

"Smell so sweet." He dragged his lips up to your core. His tongue between your folds, you moan softly under him. He pressed little kisses to your clit, you felt him smiling against you when he felt your thighs begin to tremble.

You let out a louder moan when he slipped a finger inside, your hands reached down to grasp at his hair. He pulled back to look up at you with dark eyes, smiling at you with wet lips.

"You're a tease, baby." You breathe out as he slips in a second finger. He moves slowly, building up the pressure.

He brings his mouth back down to your clit, gently grazing his teeth over it.

"Oh, fuck!" You gasp.

"C'mon poppet, come for me." A moan leaves your lips when his tongue picks up speed, making up for the loss of his fingers. "Please, let go for me."

You grip his hair harder, letting your orgasm take over your whole body. His tongue slowing down as you throw your head back and lay your hands on your side. He slowly works you through it until he sees your breathing come down, gentle kisses to your hips. He works up until he gets to your breasts. He leans in kissing each one gently. "Sorry, I neglected these beauties. I got so lost in you."

Harry continues to move slowly, but you have had enough of slow. You pull him up into your arms, until he settles on top and kiss him until it leaves you breathless.

You taste yourself on him, Harry kissing you harder as your hand begins to trail down to his shorts. He breaks the kiss and leans your head left, giving him more access to your neck, which he accepts quickly. He's slow and gentle compared to last night.

"Going to let me make love to you, poppet." You nod wishing he'd move quicker as he kicks his shorts away.

“Yes” You whisper, he’s building up the anticipation.

He lines himself up, slowly pushing in. You let out a whispered fuck at his size. He goes in gently, not wanting to hurt you, always wanting you to feel good.

Harry leans forward, kissing you as he begins to move against you.

"Baby," You breathe out. "B-baby-y-y faster."

Harry keeps your lips close, his breathing picking up. Whispered words against your lips. “I'm going to make love to you for the rest of my life. It's you and me, poppet."

Your eyes shoot open, and you're quick to look around. You're in bed, left side empty.

He's not here.

He hasn't been here for months. Why does he keep coming back? Your brain needs to let him go, but you know that isn't the one holding on to him.

You get out of bed and walk to the kitchen for a glass of water. There has never been an easy way to move on. This letter might be the best start.

Harry,

I love you. I'll always love you.

That's hard to stay, but it's the truth. You are my best friend. Remember the first time we talked on the phone and how we didn't want to hang up, so we talked about everything. From my first broken bone to your job at a bakery. You told me all about your childhood and all your dreams. At that time, I thought I would be at your side cheering you on as you were accomplishing them but that’s not the case. Just know that I'll be rooting for you.

I'm sorry I didn't fight for you. Guess it seemed like I didn't love you, but I did. I do. I think only ever having my sister on my side, I never realized I never learned to fight for those I love. Never doubt my love, it's real.

Don't be afraid to move on and love again, you deserve it. You deserve the greatest love out there.

Remember, just because you love summer doesn't mean it can stay because who knows what October can bring.

Maybe one day we'll find a way back into each other's lives, but until then, take care, H.

Y/N

You put it in the envelope and seal it. You write his name on the front.

It's time to close the chapter, time to move onto the next.

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October has finally rolled in, and you couldn't be more excited. Autumn brings in the cold and the changing of the leaves, but if you were to ask the students, it just means candy. For the month each Friday, a new activity is done in honor of Halloween. Your classroom is decorated in pictures drawn of your student's favorite movies. As well as small pumpkin string lights your sister gifted you last year. Your classroom door has black paper covering it and white ghosts—22 one for each student with their name on them stuck to it. You added caution tape to give it more detail. Then added small pumpkins around. It reads "Spooky Students" the class had a good laugh at the name, proper pleased.

The first week was simple, doing a math game.

Candy corn math.

The children enjoyed it, all having fun adding and subtracting. Tina ate one and almost cried because she thought she'd get in trouble. You assured her it was all for fun. Then let them all eat their treats as you played them Halloween music. Fridays are meant to relax and have fun. That's exactly what you show your students.

The second week they make spider headbands. Grace, your teacher assistant, helps with the cutting and stapling. The students enjoy gluing the spider's eyes most. It's an easy project when the students are focused on it. You have an hour of the day left and decide to play, It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. It's starting, and as you're organizing the glues and packing away the scissors in their pencil boxes, Nicole, the front desk assistant, tells you there's a package you have to sign for. You nod to Grace to look over the class, and she gives you a thumbs up in return. As you reach the main office, you see a baker with two boxes chatting with Matthew Collins, the Vice-Principal.

"Good afternoon gentlemen, I assume this is for me." You say, pointing to the pink boxes.

"Good afternoon, got your kids treats, I see." He acknowledges.

You shake your head, stepping to look at the note sitting on top of the box. You flip it open.

Figured you and the children deserved a sweet treat. Take care, honey. xx Anne

PS: A dozen snickerdoodle cookies are waiting for you at home.

Anne, always so sweet and thoughtful. You had kept in contact with her after that time you handed her the letter. You came to realize you couldn't lose her, and she wasn't about to let you go without a fight.

"A good friend actually sent them, knows how excited we get for October." You tuck the note in your cardigan pocket.

"Well, that's a great friend to have. I hope your class and you enjoy it. Have a great weekend." Mr. Collins leaves, and you bid goodbye to the baker.

As you make your way back to your class with two dozen cupcakes, you can't wipe the grin on your face. They are going to be so excited. The cupcakes are half chocolate and half vanilla. The orange frosting swirled beautifully on each one, each topped with a spider ring.

You return, and all the kids are focused on the scene when Sally begins to yell at Linus as he's waking up for making her miss the Halloween festivities. Grace is quick to help you tell the kids you have a surprise for them all. The movie still plays as Grace places napkins on their desks.

"A friend sent me a treat for you all because she heard how wonderful you've been doing." You tell them slowly approaching closer for them to see the box in your hand. "Say, do any of you like cupcakes." Cheers filled the room with your words.

You both worked fast to give them each a cupcake of choice, no arguing whatsoever. Kind students you have. Grace grabs chocolate, and you grab the last vanilla for yourself. Grace lets you know she's going to get waters from the cafeteria to give to them.

You sit at the back counter legs cup, leaning against a llama poster that says, "We love learning." A small gift for Julia. You grab the cupcake and fix your spider headband before taking a picture to send to Anne.

Y/N: Cupcakes were a real success. I can't thank you enough. Love you, xx.

Anne: Don't you look precious.

Anne: Glad, you all enjoyed it. Love you xx

It's an excellent way to end the week with a sweet treat from Anne and good old classic Charlie Brown.

It is now the third week. The four first grade classes made a trip to the pumpkin patch. The school budget did get slightly raised this year, allowing you to buy small easy to carry pumpkins for each student. Parent chaperones are enabling you to make smaller groups to take each student to different activities. Your small group of six decided on the slide mountain that was atop of bales. It was fun, even going down yourself. Then that led you to picking pumpkins. Joey has trouble deciding before leaving the slightly bigger one when his arms got tired. You decided to get two big ones and two small pumpkins to take to your sister's house and you could carve together this weekend. It was now your turn for the hayride, and Chloe was really excited. She was the first one on, and as the trip went on, her head kept turning, wanting to see it all. This place really outdoes themselves each year, decorations only getting better. As it was closing time to go back to school, all students sat at the tables awaiting their apple cider and cinnamon-sugar donuts.

You were about to take a seat next to Henry, the shyest student in your class when your name is called. You turn around and see Jeff, Harry's manager, and friend.

"Hi Jeff," You step close and accept the hug he offers.

"How have you been?" He asks.

You nod. "Good, welcoming the cold weather."

"It is nice."

Your grin begins to fade slightly as the small talk gets awkward. It's been a long time since you've seen Jeff. Not at all, forgetting how important a friend he was to you as well as Glenne.

"What brings you here?"

"On a class field trip." You gesture to the table behind you, seeing the kids sneak glances at you.

"That is wonderful, good class this year?"

You grin thinking about each of your students. "The best."

"Her cider is getting cold." Susan whispers, the small wide-eyed blonde says to Joey, worrying for you.

"I've got to go back, probably going to bomb me in questions as soon as I sit."

"Of course." Jeff smiles in understanding.

"Tell Glenne I say hello. Take care, Jeff."

You turn around, heading to the table. You laugh as your students quiet down as you take a seat.

"Alright, what do you want to know now?"

The students always take your mind off everything. No conversation is ever dull, still trying their best to find out more about their teacher.

Although seeing Jeff was nice, he's not the person you wished to run into every day.

No, that someone has beautiful brown curls and emerald green eyes.

The end of day breezes by, back in the classroom, the students grabbed their backpacks and walked out front to meet their parents. As you tidy up the classroom, Grace walks in a tight smile on her face. You know she has something to ask, but don't pressure her to do so.

"Was that man a friend, we saw you with," Grace asks, wiping down the desks, "mom's were gossiping, thinking you were being asked out or was an old flame. Don't have to tell me, but he did look like a friend, at least an old one."

You close your planner, happy with the coming week's plan. "My ex's friend.." You explain. "We were close. He was always kind and welcoming. Lost a lot of people during the breakup."

She shoots you a small smile. "Never easy, but you don't get through it alone. Some people are meant to come into your life as lessons."

Grace's optimism never fails to make you grin. "That is really nice to hear."

"I keep waiting for the grand gesture for my ex to sweep me off my feet." Talking about this, tears at your heart, but it has weighed you down. "I just want to run into him. Go to our favorite places in hopes of seeing him even just for a moment."

"That means you're not ready to put yourself out there?" Her voice was full of curiosity.

"Correct. I love Harry, I always will, but my heart seems to be holding on for some reason."

"I'm a phone call away if you ever want to get drunk and watch movies and eat our weight in food." She offers sincerely.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Grace bids you goodbye and walks out. It's nice to be reminded you have people around you supporting you, but all you want today is to see the sunset and you know just the spot.

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Malibu is known for having the best spots for the ocean view and standing here, a blanket wrapped around you, hearing the waves continue to crash with the rocks below you believe it is. You came here because you know not many people know about this location and if the other two cars there say anything about it continues to be unknown.

Growing up in Southern California, you have always been grateful to have the ocean nearby. You and your sister would always make your way here to celebrate good days or to clear your head. You spent your day here when you got accepted into UCLA and when Andrew proposed to Tess. This place is full of good memories; it's like being there all the bad in your life disappears. Bringing Harry here for the first time was a big step in your relationship, it was you letting him get to know you, no barriers in the way.

You hear a car pull up, but don't bother looking over thinking the person might be heading down the trail. It's a couple, and you can hear the girl whisper something then heads off to the dirt trail. You're not sure how long you stand there when you take one final look before unwrapping the blanket and placing it in your trunk. Just as you are about to close it, you hear your name called.

You turn around quickly and are surprised to see him. You weren't even aware he was here, last you heard he was on the last leg of his world tour.

He's dressed in a black Columbia hoodie, grey Nike shorts, and black running shoes. His hair has beautiful long curls, and he's got a clean-shaven face, always made him look younger but does give a good view of his strong jawline.

"Harry," You breathe out.

Your heart is beating so fast you think it might jump out of your chest. You've been waiting for the day you run into him, but it was not today.

It might be the worst day. After a field trip with first graders, no one is making out as clean as they arrived that morning. Your lavender knitted sweater has sugar stains, and your old blue jeans have dirt on your knees from kneeling to help with the pumpkins. You wore old black converse never bothered with the dust, but this time you wish you had your back up pair. You don't even want to imagine how your hair looks. You snap out of your thoughts when Harry stops giving you a once over and breaks the silence.

"I always seem to find my way here." He tells you, looking down at his shoes.

You sit in your open trunk of your CR-V and scoot over to let him know to sit. He does so without saying more. It's a heavy silence, but you don't give it much thought looking out at the ocean.

"I got your letter."

The letter you wrote four months ago. If you're honest, you didn't think back to that since you handed it over to Anne.

"When?" You questioned.

"Two weeks ago," He looks over at you, staring at you, waiting for you to look over at him. "How long did mum have it?"

You lock eyes with him, his eyes filled with curiosity and kindness. "Since June." You look away, not able to take in all the emotions coming up. "Guess you were finally ready for it."

Harry nods and stands up, and he walks a few steps before making his way back to stand in front of you. He looks nervous about sharing, and all you can do is offer him a smile. He lets out a deep breath.

"I went on this date that Jeff set up for me, and it was awful. Nice girl, but everything felt wrong. It was wrong." He runs a hand through his loose curls as if to get rid of the nerves. "I looked at her, closed my eyes, and opened them, and the person I wanted it to be was not in front of me."

Harry's looking at you as you try to wrap your head around his words. You don't know how to respond. He was waiting for you, but he was the one who left you.

"You didn't realize it until then?" You're confused. It took him eight months to realize he made a mistake.

He stares right at you, not wanting you to miss his next words. "I realized it the second you walked out the door."

Your face drops at his words.

Harry runs a hand down his face before taking a step forward. "I tried to find you. I would go all over Los Angeles hoping to run into you, but I stopped after the party when you told me the truth."

"I was harsh, felt awful at how I handled it afterward."

"Don't apologize," he gives you a half-smile, "I deserved that. Honestly, I needed it."

You both go silent. You're staring at one another, memorizing each other's faces that you had begun to forget. You could stare at Harry forever, and you always told him that he had a face one could get lost in forever, finding new details to memorize.

"Do you even remember that night?" You ask because you know you do. It used to haunt your dreams until it didn't. That day no longer lingers at the back of your head, but if you think back to it, all the emotions come again, hitting you harder than ever.

Harry sighs, "Every time I close my eyes."

You walk into your apartment, surprised at the quietness. Harry always liked to have music playing. He's sitting on the couch staring at the black screen of his phone.

"H, ready to cook dinner, got home early because you said you wanted lasagna tonight. Always faster when we cook together." Stepping closer to see why he's sitting so still on the couch.

"Sit with me." He whispers, patting the seat next to him.

You sit down, reaching to grab his hand, and he lets you. He squeezes it tightly before letting go.

"I love you." His eyes meet yours. He looks in pain. "But I'm breaking up with you."

A million thoughts run through your head. Harry's breaking up with you. He's leaving you.

He looks at you, waiting for you to say something. "It's not easy for me, but it's what's best for my career. I will be going back on tour soon, releasing a single. You wouldn't handle all the attention with paparazzi well, so I'm saving you. It's easier for others in the business, but you wouldn't survive this"

His words cut daggers into your heart.

It's best for my career.

It keeps repeating in your head, his job, he doesn't think you're enough for his lifestyle. You weren't enough to keep him happy.

"Harry, it doesn't-" The tears are rolling down your face, you can tell he wants to reach over to wipe them, but he holds himself back. "So this is it?"

He nods. "The end for us, but we can-" You cut him off before he can say, friends.

You already had him in your life as a friend. You can't go back to that not after knowing how he loves being the little spoon, how much he loves his hair being played with, but most importantly, how kind and gentle of a lover he is. He has so much love to give and do not receive that any more will break your heart: no kisses, no hugs, and no love.

You grab your keys, bag, and slip your shoes on. "Goodbye, Harry."

He stands eyes red, he looks sad, but he has no right. He wanted this, not you. His house had become a second home, but now you feel like an unwelcome guest. You walk out without looking back each step towards your car, making you cry harder.

This is the end. An end, you never saw coming.

It seems like you were both lost in the memory when you hear Harry begin to weep quietly. Your heart pulls you in two ways, wanting to comfort him or sitting there, letting him cry, but before you can decide, he's wiping his tears.

He lifts his head to meet your eyes, his eyes keep filling with tears, but he doesn't bother to wipe them anymore. "Are you happy?" he whispered.

You nod a small smile on your face to assure him. "I am. I'm not sad and miserable anymore, but I'm also not filled with sunshine. I lost a lot when we broke up; you have to know that," He nods letting you know he's listening. "I also found myself, found love I lost over the years. Found love in me."

He smiles when he hears that his dimples were coming out. "That day at the party, I was in the worst place possible, but I reached out to my sister and told her I needed therapy. I wouldn't have gone if it weren't for my sister's support. Honestly, you were in the back of my mind because you shared to me how important and impactful it was for you, and I know I had so much to share not just from the breakup but from my childhood."

"I'm glad." He chokes out his voice, rough from crying.

"I am too." You smile because this is nice. All the running you did didn't allow you to talk with Harry, but the time has come, and you're grateful for that.

"I wasn't planning on coming up here today, obviously," You gesture to your dirty clothes. "I had that pull to come here as soon as I was pulling out of the school parking." You confess to him.

"I finished a yoga class and was on my way home when I took the wrong exit," Harry corrects himself, "Or well the right turn looking at it now."

You're not sure where you stand with Harry, but you both know the feelings are still there. As if they never left.

"We can't pick up where we left off."

Harry nods, agreeing. "In that case, may I take you out on a date Sunday?"

"I'd love that, Harry."

You stand up and pull him in for a hug. You know you surprise him because he tenses up before wrapping his arms around you. You sigh as you feel Harry squeeze you tight. He breathes you in, and you can't help but let out a small laugh.

"Did you just sniff me?" You're laughing against his chest feeling his heartbeat pick up.

"Oi, don't laugh at me. You smell like strawberries." He defends.

"Pretty sure I smell like dirt and sweat. A field trip running around kids will do that to you."

"I disagree." He pulls back to look down at you, but you keep your head on his chest, liking being in his arms. "Always smell great."

You move to pull back, thinking it must be too much too soon for both of you, but Harry doesn't let you. He holds on tighter. "Couple more minutes, please love," He whispers against your hair. You nod and let him begin to sway you both gently as if you were both ones with the wind.

"Is it too forward to ask to kiss you?" Harry asks timidly.

You lean back and laugh before looking up at him, his eyes hopeful but also knowing. "It is."

"It was worth a shot."

Harry leans in to gently press a kiss to your forehead, his lips soft. He steps back after a few seconds. "I'll call you."

You nod. "Please do."

Harry holds his car door open but makes no move to step in as if waiting for something. You don't want him to leave.

"Harry," You call out. He turns around and shoots you a cheesy smile causing you to smile back. "I really want you to kiss me, trust me but,"

Harry nods in understanding. "Slow and steady, love."

You stare at him, and his eyes are bright and hopeful. Hopeful in their future together. "Slow and steady, we can do that."

Just like that, you and Harry both drive away from each other, but your future together has never looked brighter.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Thank you for reading! I love you

Come talk to me and tell me what you thought of Into You

#harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles story #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles #my writing

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everafterkeiji · 4 years

Text

Song: La La Lost You by Niki

Summary: With him being the pro hero he is, time slips away while distance grows.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x fem! reader

Word count: 4.8k

Warning: angst, cursing

Quirk: You can read minds and portray them in real life. Example: If they thought about a gun, you create the image of the gun and use the gun. Same goes for you, if you think about a bomb, a bomb is already in your hands ready to use.

Symbols: Italic= flashbacks

A/n: can you pls let me know if you'd like a part 2 fnejdn

While I'm on Sunset, are you on the subway?

While I drive, are you gettin' on the L-train?

Bakugo can feel the longing in his heart as he watches a couple pick out engagement rings. His fists tighten at the sight as he feels an ache in his heart while he longs for an embrace his body misses, a body he missed to cherished, pair of lips he missed to place upon his. He lowers his head as he does his nightly patrols. Winter coming in closer than he realized, another year passing by. He thought he wanted this year to end as fast as it could yet here he is, sorrow and regret on his shoulders. Half of his heart gone, nearly falling apart as he stares at every happy couple his eyes fall upon. Even if his fans came to him, no matter how loud the praises and compliments were thrown at him, he felt nothing.

All he wanted to feel was her.

He wanted to feel how warm she was pressed against him, he wanted to feel her lips on his once again, he wanted to hear her voice again. Not the voice he last heard that was full of sadness but the voice he loved to listen to whenever he had his nightmares, his insecure nights. The softness in her tone, the way every laugh of hers would sound ethereal to him, the feist in her words whenever they had their battles. Now all those sounds seem to grow deaf to him. It's been a year, a year without her. A rather long year for him. Everyday he had to wake up to a cold bed, no arms wrapped around him, no view for him to enjoy when he opens his eyes. The way your moments were held in the walls surrounding him, every milestone of your relationship cherished in one household. He felt as if it was mocking him, making him remember the happiness your relationship brought him.

Hope that eases the pain

So you remember to miss me

Before, your house was filled with pictures of you two. Now it was empty, a house for one man when it was supposed to be a house for his ever after with her. Where was his savior? Where are the soft melodies she'd sing to him whenever he had his insecurities drag him down? All these moments he can only replay in his mind.

As he opens the door, he remembers the smile that falls on his lips no matter how exhausted he was, ready to see his girlfriend safe and sound in their own house. He'd catch her asleep on the couch with her favorite blanket cuddled up to a stuff toy he won her in a game.

He lets out a tired sigh before stepping in the shower. He closes his eyes, trying to surpass the way his eyes wanted to shed tears at the sight of her without his side. The more he tries to ignore it, the farther she gets from his view. He only remembers the way he raised his voice at her, the tears that ran down her cheek. The hurtful things that left his mouth, he never meant to say.

Unsaid things only to be said to a wall as his chances were slimming down as time passes. The words he wanted to say only being said when he was intoxicated but the person he badly wanted to say it to wasn't there to listen.

Does the trick for all of the things left unsaid

He didn't dare to face his friends, knowing questions and reactions are the only things he's gonna get from them. They'd be the ones to mention your name when they notice your disappearance. Kirishima knows about the split and has made many attempts to get the blonde back on his feet like he used to but every attempt would just end in bottles on the floor and carrying Bakugos intoxicated body back in your old couch.

Kirishimas heart wanted to cry for him.

Whenever your name was mentioned in missions or groups, he'd noticed the sadness that sets in his eyes and expression while he tries to hide it by being his aggressive self. Even as his best friend, there's nothing that he could do when the only solution to Bakugos heart was you.

You tried to ignore the fact that every night for a year you drowned out your emotions by overworking yourself and thinking that by being surrounded by lights and alcohol brought you contentment while you had no clue of what your other half was doing. Like him, you craved nothing more than to be with him.

Some have tried to contact you, you tried to sound believable as possible. Trying to sound like the boy you love was still around you pulling pranks behind you or him randomly wrapping his arms around you.

But you're on the other side of the country.

An offer you couldn't possibly lose, not even letting him know where you were. Him only knowing when the news had caught you fighting off villains in a city he can't just run to when he missed you. You knew that distance never fixed anything but at this point is there anything to be fixed? When laid out in front of you two are broken pieces of your own hearts. Scatted in cities where he remembers you by, scattered in his clothes that fit like a dress on you, scattered in streets making a path for you two to retrace your steps and fix what's happened. Hanging onto memories day by day. Trying to grasp a reality that was too good to be true.

All my demons have your smile

Unlike him, your surroundings were new.

Everything was new. You weren't stuck to suffer in the place where your love blossomed, the new environment insisting you to change but the way you saw couples and kids ticked you off to the very least.

December hasn't been this cold than you remember it. You shed a tear or two whenever you overheard one of the heroes ramble on how excited she was that she was engaged. It would've been 6 years with him by next month and a ring should've been placed in your very hands by now knowing the shared conversations you two had about marriage.

Saddened by the thought of it, you head home changing out of your hero clothes. You sat in the train, your exhaustion getting the best of you as you opened your eyes to see Bakugo sitting in front of you but as you blink he was gone. As the train goes under a tunnel, you look at the window as your memories play like some movie scene. You turn to look at the couples that surrounded you and your mind betrays you thinking of a girl that can make Bakugo happy like you did.

The darkness of the train enabled you to cry. You covered your face in your hands as you let out a sob. As a hero you couldn't care if people saw you like this, everyone had a breaking point. You've had enough of today. You continue to cry as you tighten the grip on your sweater and on the necklace that you wore.

"Who knew you could do things like this?" You teased as he taps your nose. You were set on his lap as he brings out a box. His hand caresses your cheek as he looks at you with love, love and nothing more.

"Shut it, dumbass. Now turn around." You rolled your eyes as you turned around, your back facing his chest. He sits up properly, gently moving your h/c aside as a cold piece of jewelry was placed around your neck. Once it was attached, Bakugo pressed light kisses on your shoulder as he whispers for you to face him. When you did, he smiled.

"You look amazing, Y/N." He says with pink painted cheeks. You blushed at his words your hand playing with the necklace.

"What's this for, Katsuki?" You asked as you intertwined your hands with his. He kisses the back of your hand as he looks at you.

"So you'll always have me."

As you wipe your tears, you felt a buzz in the pocket of your jeans. Picking it up the name "kiri<3" flashes before you. Sniffling a bit, you decided to answer.

"Kirishima? Is everything okay?"

Meanwhile on the other line, Bakugos breath hitched at the sound of you. It was another night where he dragged Kirishima to another bar and drown his feelings. He begged Kirishima to dial your number, just to hear it even if it wasn't meant for him.

"Hey Y/N! Sorry if I called a little later than expected, you doing okay? This is really random and unmanly-"

"Kiri it's fine! I'm fine yeah just heading home. How are you by the way?" Bakugo stays silent as he hears your voice. He missed it so much. He hadn't felt this desperate since you left.

"Well I'm doing fine too, Y/N. Guess I kinda just miss my partner in crime." You smiled at his words, finally feeling relieved after your session of crying.

"I miss you too, Eiji. How-"

"Y/N!" A familiar voice suddenly rushing to your ears as you sit up. It's him. Bakugo tries to steal the phone from Kirishima but Kirishima won't give it to him, thinking it was wrong for Bakugo to talk to you in a state like this.

"Bakugo-" The call ends before you can even say anything else. Kirishima sighs as Bakugo notices the call has ended.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR SHIT HEAD?!"

"WHY CAN'T YOU CALL HER ON YOUR OWN, BAKUGO!" Kirishima shouts. Bakugo is taken aback by his sudden burst of words. Bakugo stays silent as Kirishima puts his phone in the pocket of his jeans.

"If you love her why don't you call her yourself? Make some fucking plans with her, talk it out. You're suffering because you're weak enough to reach out to her. This would've been simple from the beginning when you actually had the balls to talk to her and apologize!"

"If you feels so shitty about Y/N leaving, we're her friends too you know. We also lost her. I always have your back Bakugo, but this time this is your problem." Kirishima leaves your apartment with a sigh of defeat as he glides over your phone number, texting a sorry before he went home. Bakugo had his head hung low, taking in every word he heard.

He's right. He thought.

You had a hand placed on your heart when you heard him. You figured that it didn't end well for Kirishima when the call ended. Your screen flashes before reading the message.

kiri<3: I'm really sorry about that Y/N, but I do miss you. we all do. especially bakugo.

When you were home, your hand traces over the blocked contact of your other half. You smile as you reread your past conversations. But as you hug your pillow shutting the device off, you felt your eyes close remembering the warmth you used to have when he slept beside you.

He came home from a patrol, promising to save as many as he can but ended up saving only half of what he intended to. The cries of people ringing in his ears. He felt low, unworthy, selfish, weak. He couldn't save them, he could've been better. Now he realizes the fear that grows on him that he can't always save you.

"What the fuck did you say, Katsuki?! You don't get to say shit like I'm not a hero like you! We're both fucking exhausted. I'm asking you for one, one day." You shout.

He wasn't as strong as you. He utters words that mean the complete opposite of what he wanted to say, even denying love when he first experienced it. So scared of feeling emotions since the only thing he relied on was himself. He is strong in battles, the thrill giving him life, excitement. This is what he wanted. To live the life of his idols, to surpass them and show them he meant every word when said he wanted to be #1. What he didn't want was a girl who held his heart with strings. Playing with his emotions, discovering the branches of love. Discovering how his world changed when he fell for the girl he could never reach. He didn't want his heart to be fragile. He wanted it to be tough and unbreakable, a barrier around it where no one can see through his sharp demeanor. But there she was. Breaking every barrier with ease. In this moment, his heart made barriers once again.

"I fucking meant it when I said I don't have any time to be with you anymore. I need to work, Y/N! Why cant you get that through your fucking skull" He shouts back, a finger to your forehead pushing you back. Your cheeks were from the anger that sprung to your spirits. Every part of you was aching with anger. Tears spilling from your eyes as he watches you.

"That's all you ever fucking do Katsuki! Do you just purposely forget that I also work hard and here I am asking for one night with my boyfriend and you're pushing me aside like I'm nothing to you!"

"Nothing?! Maybe you just don't fucking understand what I'm saying! I have my own shit to deal with and I can't always drop everything for your needy ass. Do you need me to pat you on the back for being a good hero? You shouldn't even call yourself a hero when I'm the reason you even made it this far, princess." You closed your eyes as your hands turned white from how much you were tightening them.

Y/N, don't believe it. Please. I'm begging you-

"OF COURSE YOU GOT ME HERE! Call me anything you want. Weak, laid back, unworthy, low, insecure, stupid, worthless, have at it but I'm fucking drowning in my own stress, shitty paper work and patrols. I am a hero. You don't get to fucking remove that title from me. While you got me here, you're forgetting all the shit I did for you!"

"The things you did for me? What, like love? That's nothing to me."

Love.

All the smiles you've given him. The moments where you made him realize that if he wasn't the #1 hero, the only thing that mattered him was you. The memories of you with your head on his shoulder enjoying the sunset while he talks about how much he loves you. The feeling of his hands intertwining with yours as you danced in your living room. The moment where he said he'd catch you no matter what. The moments where you would wake up to his kisses on your face. The feeling when you see him safe and sound as you hug him enjoying life when his love surrounded you. The feeling when you imagined yourself marrying the perfect man for you.The promises. Future plans. The kisses. Never ending hugs. 5 years with the person who made you the happiest, who made you determined, who made you feel like you can conquer anything, who made you believe in love even in the toughest ways.

It was all nothing.

You bite your lip as your head hung low. He hears your sobs and it wasn't enough for him to wake up from all this anger. He needed you just as much as you did, but in this moment he didn't realize it. He thought he needed a break, some silence to drown out the cries of the people he had left behind but now he can only hear his heart shattering. Piece by piece. Torn. With every word he says. With every glance he gives you, seeing you so hurt because of him. He bared no meaning to his words and he hopes you can see that he too needed saving but he notices the drop in your tone. Dull eyes, tear stained cheeks, unsteady breathing.

"I just w-wanted to be with you.. t-to be saved. To be saved from this asshole of a man claiming he loves but me pushes me away like dirt. A man who tells me an empty promise of always being there to catch me. Katsuki, was it all really nothing y-you?" He bites his lip before taking a step forward but you step back, life drained out of you. Every color saturated to liveliness was nothing but black and white now. Storms and heavy weather. Tears and broken hearts.

I can't do this.

"I just can't save you anymore." He whispers but you heard it clear as day. You let out the most painful sob as your knees give in, a thud to the floor as you cover your face in your hands. Now the fear in his head of him never saving you, he only faces the truth that he can't save everyone, even you. Your sobs echoed through the house as he turns around to wipe away his tears, a hand to his pained chest. As his back was turned to you, you left to go to your room. He notices your disappearance as he only sits on the couch, knowing the events that were to happen next. You grabbed a bag stuffing in whatever you could as you continued to release your sorrows. When you were finished you took a last good look on your room. The room where every nightmare was comforted with love, the room where secrets were shared, deep fears, everything. You take a deep breath before opening the door. You see him sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

You both wake up with tears in your eyes as your head weighed a ton, making you grip your pillow with such force, completely unhappy you were greeted this way. You looked up at the mirror to see bags under your eyes, puff cheeks, and a version of you that you despised to see everyday.

Not a single glow of happiness.

You weren't ready to face another tiresome day at the agency but your limbs forced you to knowing it'd be another patrol then by the night some paperwork and then patrolling once again. His words replayed in your mind, still affecting you with how he belittled you as a hero. Sure, you couldn't save millions but you saved hundreds, even if you were on brim of your quirk affecting your mental state, you would still save thousands.

And it pains you that he doesn't even notice how your quirk affects your mental being.

It takes immense focus for you to portray what you needed, and it requires you to be sharp and quick with your mind. Yet, overusing it alters the reality you wanted. Your mind playing a sick game to your overall being, stuck in the darkest part of your mind, leading you the same night that started it all.

But he still wouldn't save you.

Bakugo had his vermilion eyes on the road, as the others discussed on the upcoming mission. He didn't even bother to pay interest on where they were going, more focused on fighting with the villain and finishing the job.

Maybe it was the hundredth time today where he thought about you.

He looks at the beautiful scenery in front of him, and his mind leads him to remember your smile and your features he loved to gaze his eyes on. Now, villains and explosions were the only things that clouded his vision or sometimes the sight of his companions, which didn't really help him.

Then the vehicle comes to a stop, his eyes landing on a store. Seen through the glass was a beautiful dress, painted in her favorite color, with the perfect length and dainty design. He smiles to himself, visualizing how stunning she'd look wearing it, especially seeing her skin looking so bright and healthy under the winter atmosphere.

She'd love that. He says to himself, feeling bittersweet that he wanted to buy it, but who would even wear it? He can't just give it to her without having a conversation. Even if it's been nearly a year, how can he prepare for something he avoided?

He steps out of the vehicle, feeling exhausted thinking about her. He hears his companions talk about splitting up so each hero wouldn't be suspected, he agrees with them, not even bothering to give them a snarky comment. He was too occupied with the thought of you in that splendid dress.

He wonders around the city, hands to his pockets. Especially in his hero costume, he received so many stares from the people. He'd either glare back at them or ignore them completely, but this time he just let them stare for as long as they liked. The only pair of eyes he wanted to land on him was yours, your ever stunning ones.

He remembers the moments where the sun beamed perfectly on your eyes, depicting the color with such grace and beauty. He remembers every memory where your eyes were gateways to your emotions, filled with such genuine and love. It even helped him at times where words weren't needed to express the way he felt. He loved how you managed to read him so easily, like a book she's memorized every page of. Even the slightest change in his tone, you were able to pick it up and soon interrogate him if he was okay.

He watches a couple who had boxes in their hands with smiles evident in their eyes and lips. He watches as the man gestures to help the girl but she declines walking ahead of him, he follows behind the girl making sure the boxes wouldn't fall.

"Katsuki stop!" She shouts with a giggle, he ignores her completely, pushing her slightly to make the boxes fall. She completely looses balance as the boxs fall on the floor. She gasps as she runs to punish the blonde as he quickly puts down the boxes as he runs away from her. You can hear her screaming profanities at the man as the couple runs around outside their house.

Bakugo hides from her, eyeing her from his secret spot. He takes the opportunity when he sees her completely confused he was gone, so he takes you by surprise by slinging you over his shoulders, chuckling at how she threw mild punches at his back.

"Babe! How are we gonna finish moving in our stuff!" She says with a laugh, still trying to beg for him to put her down. He spins around making her laugh even more as he sets her on the ground. The sun beams down on them, her eyes glowing so beautifully under the golden light. His hand reaches her cheeks, squishing it lightly as he smiles at her expression.

"Who said we even needed to finish it today? C'mon. We have the house all to ourselves." Katsuki says, as you sighed giving into him. He smirks to himself as he lifted you off the ground once again, swinging you over his shoulders too easily.

"Baby!"

His eyes wander elsewhere, feeling his chest tightening once again at the memories that resurface upon him.

After a long fight with a villain who kept scarring you with their weapon, your mind was completely going to collapse at any minute. You've been creating bullets and barriers for so long you didn't notice how other objects that you didn't need were suddenly made, dropping behind you. You can feel the throbbing pain of your head as you limped to the town. Random objects still were popping up every minute and it annoyed you how your quirk was out of your grasp.

(TW! Hallucination/Panic attack)

You simply wanted water and some first aid kit to make sure you make it to your agency but when you imagined the bottle of water, you immediately acted like it was created but it wasn't. All the things that you thought you made weren't there and you felt your eyes feel droopy as you let your hand hold onto the wall for support. It was starting to alter your reality, making it worse for you to think straight while your thoughts were all tied in loops from overusing it. Your vision blurring at the sight of people who were walking by.

Your mind was growing more and more explosive as you felt pain surround your head. You let out a scream as you felt every part of your head ache as unnecessary objects were still appearing beside you. This scream alerts the people but they chose not to gather around you, unsure what was happening. They were all muttering questions but this only added to the problem as you started panting, harshly closing your eyes trying to avoid any eye contact from them. You heard a loud shout before your mind completely goes blank, feeling like you were shot. It happened all too fast as you fall to your knees, mind empty and damaged, your system completely failing to support you as a person was seen pushing through the sea of people.

Then, their eyes met.

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x you #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #kirishima fluff #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine #bnha denki #bnha kaminari #my hero academia kaminari #my hero imagines #my hero academia #mha kaminari

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

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bangs pots and pans together loudly FIC UPDATE COME GET YALL SOME JUICE

Apparently the vital, missing component to enjoying school was having a friend there. Go figure.

He and Kevin only have that first period class together, but they make the most of it, passing notes back and forth between the two of them, the teacher too tired that early in the morning to notice, or care. Lunch isn’t depressing anymore. They sit together under the shade tree, and Kevin does seem to also appreciate the view. “Can you even imagine working up a sweat, on purpose?” Betelgeuse pats his gut. “You know I can’t.”

“I can’t believe how little the track shorts are. That’s obscene. You think I’d look good in them?” “You join track and I’ll come to every meet, an’ it won’t be for th’ love of th’ sport.” He doesn’t think normal friends talk to each other like this, but he doesn’t actually know. Does everyone flirt with their friends? Are friends just cool people you wanna fuck but haven’t yet? Is it demon hormone bullshit, making him read into everything? Unclear.

It’s all going so good, until it isn’t, suddenly.

One lunch, two months into being there, Kevin pulls a huge and impressive old book from his backpack. “Look what I goooot,” he sing songs, waving it in Betelgeuse’s face, and he sneezes in response. “Smells old.” Emily and Lydia would love it. “It is. It’s very old,” Kevin confirms, and he moves so he’s sitting next to Betelgeuse, shoulder to shoulder, both their backs to the shade tree. “It’s about demons.”

Betelgeuse loses interest immediately, and focuses on not going pink at their shoulders touching, instead. “Z’at so?” he grunts. Kevin doesn’t seem to pick up on his moodiness, though. “It talks about all these ancient beings,” he explains, flipping pages. “Their summoning circles, their aspects,” he gives Betelgeuse a nudge at that, “all the things they can do for you, and the boons they grant.” He feels uncomfortable. “What’s with this? You obsessed with me, or somethin’?” He tries to play it as a joke, but that glint in Kevin’s eyes is back, and he doesn’t like it. “Of course, who wouldn’t be obsessed if they learned all this shit is actually true? It’s like there’s a whole secret world behind a locked door, and I’ve got the key.” Kevin looks back up at him.

He gets the feeling he’s the key. It’s not a good feeling.

“Where’d you even get this fuckin’ thing?” he lifts a finger, and the book slams closed in Kevin’s lap. His friend huffs. “Internet, of course.” “No, I mean… why were you lookin’ for somethin’ like this?” “I want to learn more. Don’t you?” Kev presses, and reopens the book. “I mean, what if there’s something amazing you can do, and you just don’t know, cause you’re not bothering to try?”

“So I’ll never know, so what?” Betelgeuse feels like this is a losing argument, but he tries anyways. “What’s so great about bein’ weird? You’re lucky you’re human.” “Dude, don’t even start with that. You can fly.” “So can humans,” he points out. “Wh- A plane and fucking levitating for fun are not the same, and you know it, BeetleJerk.” Kevin honestly can’t understand why he’s not excited over this. “I just mean… I’d rather be human, than this.” He blinks at his own words, because he’s never expressed that out loud before, ever. But it doesn’t feel untrue. “You’re out of your mind, more so than usual. Every human alive wants to feel special, and do the stuff you can do. Why are you acting like it’s so miserable all of a sudden? You use your powers all the time, I’ve seen you literally teleport five feet because you’re too lazy to walk.”

“You don’t get it.” He’s feeling sullen now, and he wiggles a little away from Kevin, and crosses his arms. “BJ, come on-” Betelgeuse teleports away to under the bleachers, and he eats his lunch there, until the bell rings.

He’s waiting for Emily after school, not feeling particularly friendly, when Kevin approaches. They stand there awkwardly. It feels tense, and weird, and he waits to see what the breather does. “Don’t be mad,” Kevin says, finally. “M’not mad.” “You sound mad.” “You know what mad on me looks like,” he finally turns to look at his friend, amber eyes burning with irritation. “First hand.”

Kevin looks down, and kicks at a rock that might not actually be there. “I thought you’d be excited. BJ, come on, I don’t wanna.. Not be friends over this.”

Betelgeuse signs, and scratches at the scruff on his chin. “It’s not like that,” he relents after a moment. “I just, I don’t care about that stuff. An’ I don’t wanna sit around, focusin’ on it. I don’t exactly like feelin’ different. Yeah, I do tricks an’ use my magic an’ stuff, but it’s hard to control. I lose my temper once an’ I could seriously destroy somethin’, or hurt my family. It doesn’t exactly feel good, knowin’ that. No one else my age can stand me, cause they can tell I’m weird. Before you, it was fuckin’ lonely, Kev.”

He feels a familiar pressure, because Kevin has taken his hand, and the human gives it a squeeze. He accepts it, melting a little against the other boy. “Still friends?” Kevin asks, and Betelgeuse purrs in response, resting his head on Kevin’s shoulder.

It’s not till later, at home, that he realizes Kevin never actually apologized.

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It’s like that, for a while. He knows Kevin still has the book. He knows he’s reading it, and sometimes Kevin will bring up demon stuff, but Betelgeuse has almost exactly a minute and a half of patience for answering questions or hearing about it. Still, Kev doesn’t stop. He might feel angrier if the breather wasn’t so god damn cute.

The air is starting to go cold, and leaves are beginning to fall. October is settling in, getting comfortable, and mom’s starting to break out the Halloween décor. It’s the middle of a kind of gloomy, Autumn day, when things get weird.

Kevin has the book open, much to Betelgeuse’s annoyance, and he’s blabbing away about a demon that supposedly grants wealth- “Do you think you could do that?” -when Betelgeuse looks down at the book, and sees Juno looking back at him. It’s not really her, it’s an illustration, but he’d recognize the bitch anywhere. She’s ink, glaring up from the page, those same age lines etched into her face, confirming his private theory that she’d been an old hag even when she was young. The slit neck is prominent, and as he stares, he sees smoke billow out of it. Oh, fuck no.

He grabs the book and slams it shut, startling Kevin, and then he teleports it directly under them, a mile down in the rock of the earth. Kev blinks for a moment, confused, before looking at his friend. “Wh.. Dude, WHAT?”

“Possessed book,” he croaks out, feeling tense, because he can smell cigarette smoke. “And you’re afraid of it? Why? You are also a literal fucking demon!” “That’s why I’m not messin’ with it!” Betelgeuse stands up, uneasy. The ground around the tree feels weird, now. He doesn’t like it here anymore. “Cause I actually understand why it’s a bad fuckin’ idea! God, you should have instincts that tell you not to mess with this stuff! You’re deficient, Kev, seriously.”

“Me deficient? Seriously?” Kev snaps, which hurts in a new, unexpected way. “Whatever, asshole. Give me my book back.” Kevin stands up, too, but he’s not uneasy, he’s angry.

“It’s better off where it is.”

“Which is where?”

Betelgeuse glances down. The grass around the tree is starting to wither. Kevin follows his gaze, but doesn’t seem to notice the dying vegetation. “You buried it? Come on!”

“Leave it, Kev.”

“This isn’t just your cool secret, anymore, it’s mine too!” Kevin glares at him. “You can’t keep me out of it, BJ. That’s not fair. God, at this point, I know more than you! You should be listening to me!”

He feels his volatile temper flare.

“Ex-fuckin’-scuze me?”

He waits for Kevin to take it back. Instead, his friend doubles down. “Demons have to listen to humans,” Kevin crosses his arms. “If they’re summoned. It’s in the book.” “Nobody summoned me,” Betelgeuse snarls, letting his real snake eyes show, an intimidation tactic that works for about half a second. Kevin’s too used to him, at this point. “I’m up here on a deal.” “Bet I could do it. I bet I could summon you. Then you’d have to listen to me.” “Yeah? Well, good luck without your stupid book!” He storms off, leaving Kevin standing there.

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The rest of the day sucks. He’s moody all day, annoyed in the car, grumpy in his room. He cranks metal and wishes he’d learned to play a guitar instead of his rinky, happy sounding ukulele. The instrument isn’t going to produce the noise he wants to express himself, right now. He throws it across the room, into a wall, where it smashes, and reforms a minute later, because… it’s still his favorite, after all. Even if it’s no good for expressing his teenage angst.

He can hear shuffling, and talking, outside his room, though he can’t make out what’s being said over the music. After a moment, though, there’s a knock at his door. “Hey, Bug?” Emily calls. “Can you come give me a hand with something?” He wants to tell her to piss off, go away, to leave him the hell alone, but.. It’s Emily. The CD player lets out a strangled choke and suddenly stops, and the door swings open, all without him moving from his flopped position on the bed. “Sup, ma?” he grunts. Emily peaks her head into the room, and smiles when she sees him, the expression radiating warmth and adoration and.. Oh, God/Satan, bless his sunbeam of a mother. “Just wondering if you’re free to do a little decorating?” She reaches behind her and grabs a fake severed bloody limb from the box he assumes she’s dragged into the hallway from the attic. “Don’t you worry it takes away from the “wow factor” to do Halloween twice a year?” He asks, standing and stretching, before apparating in the hallway behind her, and giving the decor box a nudge with his boot. “What? No way, there’s never enough Halloween!” Emily grins. “Get that, please.” The box floats along behind him as they head downstairs. They pause in the entryway, as Emily thinks out loud. “So, maybe the kitchen should be-” “Functional as a kitchen, please,” Charles calls from the living room. Emily rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine! Spoilsport! We’ll focus on the entryway for now,” she decides. “You wanna put up cobwebs in the rafters?” She gets on tiptoes to reach into the floating box, and he lowers it a bit for her, as she grabs the fake webbing. “I could just instantly decorate the whole room,” He takes to floating next to the box. “Could make sure it’s all normal human stuff, too,” He adds, before she can respond. “I know you can… But I like decorating,” Emily says brightly. “It’s not about getting it done quickly. It’s about, you know, doing it together.” “So why are dad and Lydia slacking?” Her smile doesn’t falter, but becomes softer. “It kinda felt like you needed some mom time, today,” She says simply. God, she can read him easier than Kev can read his stupid book. “We got in a fight,” he admits. She hums at that, because he only has one friend. It’s not hard to guess who he could possibly mean. “I’m sorry, Bug. What over?” He hesitates. So far he’s not let any of his family in on this book business. He’s been sort of hoping it could just go away on it’s own, and not be a thing. Kevin’s made it into a thing, though, and not telling even his mom feels… bad.

“He’s really into demons. Like, really, really into em,” He rasps, floating up and beginning to put up the spiderwebs, as his mother takes down the usual, sort of spooky wall hangings and trades them for her very intentionally spooky Halloween ones. “He’s got this book, an’ it’s all about demons an’ like, how to summon them, an’ their powers, an’ stuff… Sometimes th’ way he talks, it’s like.. Are we friends cause we’re friends, or friends cause you think I’m gonna be... useful?”

Maybe that doesn't make any sense, but that’s how it’s been feeling, like there’s an invisible shoe hanging midair, and it’s about to drop. His mother waits until he’s finished before looking up at him. “And you fought over that?” She prods. “Not exactly.” How the fuck can she even tell that, though? Damn her mom powers. He really, really didn’t want to talk about this, not to her, but… “I saw Juno. In th’ book,'' He lowers back down to the floor, and digs through the box, pulling out fake body parts. Back up he goes, to stick these in the fake webbing. “It was just a drawing of her, but it started like.. Billowing smoke-”

“From the neck,” His mother remembers, suppressing a shudder.

“Yeah. I could smell the smoke. So I got rid of the book, buried it in th’ school yard, but Kev got all pissy about it. He thinks he’s an expert on this shit, an’ he’s gonna mess with somethin’ big if he keeps this up.” “I’m sure you’ve told him that.” “He doesn’t listen. He gets this look in his eye, like it’s a game, or like… I dunno. Feels sometimes like he thinks he’s…” He searches for the words. “Like he thinks he oughta be the boss a’me, or somethin’.”

He rubs absentmindedly at the moss on his nose. It clings, stubborn as ever, same with the patches by his hairline, and he’s found it’s easier to just add another little layer to his glamour than try to do anything about it.

Maybe that’s indicative of a bigger problem. It’s easier to do a bit of magic and make everything look better than to actually fix the underlying problem. Ugh, introspection, how absolutely miserable. He wants to keep thoughts like that locked away tight, but they have a habit of slipping past his mental defenses and making him feel worse. Absolutely no one can make him feel shittier than he himself can. He sinks to the ground, going purple, and he’s instantly wrapped in his mother’s arms. “It’s okay, Beetlejuice,” Emily has both her hands on the back of his head, and he pushes his face into the crook of her neck. “I just.. I’ve only got the one friend,” he groans. “I don’t wanna stop bein’ his friend, but.. Fuck, ma.”

“I know.” Her voice is a soothing balm. She works her hands through the mess of purple hair at the back of his head. “I know, sweetheart. I know it’s lonely at school, but school isn’t forever,” she tries to assure him. “If your friend is treating you this way, well.. He’s not a very good friend. Do you want to be around someone who makes you feel this bad? Does it feel worth it, to you?”

He knows the correct answer is, “No,” but he’s not sure if his self esteem is high enough for that.

“I like him a lot,” He grumbles, and she hums again. “He’s handsome,” She says, and then pulls back far enough to pinch his nose. “But not as handsome as my son, of course,” and it’s silly enough to help knock away his mood, so that’s something, at least. “What should I do?” He doesn’t pull away from her, just soaks up the mom energy for as long as he can. “I think you need to have a talk,” Emily tells him. “Lay out how you’re feeling. Try to get his side of things, and make sure he hears your side, too. Then, at least you both tried, you know?”

It’s such a mom type answer. He groans again.

“I was worried you’d say some shit like that.” She fuzzes his hair, and he feels the tingle in his scalp that means it’s changed colors. Back to green, he assumes. “You know your moss changes color along with your hair? And your creepo-stache?” “Leave the stache alone, it’s tryin’ it’s best,” He pretends to be defensive.

“It makes you look like the founder of a forum for people who marry their cars,” Lydia offers, from the bottom step of the staircase, where she has apparently been just chilling and listening.

“Wh-! Mom, it’s not that bad, right?” Emily tilts her head to the side and gives what can only be described as a condescending smile. “Oh, you’re both in for it now.” He brings the various decor items to life to terrorize them, and then Charles joins his side, sympathizing with his son vis-à-vis bad teenage facial hair, and by the time the whole squabble is over, hardly any decorating has gotten done… But he does feel better. His family’s good like that.

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Monday rolls around, same as it always does, but there’s a weird feeling in the air. Halloween is a week away, barely missing getting a weekend date, but there’s some big Halloween bash the school is apparently throwing. There’s fliers for it everywhere, plastered all over lockers and bulletin boards. He’s not much of a participator, though, and his reaction to his locker being plastered over with invites to a party he doesn't care about is to snap his fingers. All the fliers on all the lockers up and down the hall, all instantly fall loose at once, littering the floor. A few students jump back, but no one looks his way, because why would they?

He’s grabbing his history textbook when he feels a tap on the shoulder, and when he turns, it’s a girl he recognizes, but her name is absolutely lost on him.

“You’re BJ, right?” Miffy askes, and he nods. “Yeah, s’right,” and Margo seems to wince at how gruff his voice is, before continuing. “Um, you and that guy Kevin, you’re like…” Milicent trails off, waiting for him to finish her thought, but sorry, baby, he can barely finish his own. “Like…?” He says, with his gravel voice copying her tone and inflection, and she huffs. “Together?” Marge asks, “Like, all of the time?”

He cocks his head, and squints at her, hands t-rexing at his sides, as Lydia likes to say.\

“Usually,” He concedes, and he gets the feeling he’s dragging this out much, much more than Mango clearly wants, because he spies a group of girls a little ways off, waiting for her. One of them is staring intently, more focused on him, but he pushes that thought aside.

“Look, okay, he’s gonna be out for a few days, and I’m just trying to see if you can take him his homework,” McGrubber has grown tired of having to stand here, talking to the chubby goth loser, apparently. “I’m a student aid in the office and they’re trying to make me do it, but I have track practice!” Thaaaat’s where he knows her from. She looks different, not bouncing and sweating and also not half a football field away. “Sure, fine, I’ll make sure Kev gets his work. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on running in a fuckin’ circle, Maria.” Her face sours. “It’s Blair.” So close. “Who fuckin’ cares,” He replies, and turns back to his locker. He can hear her rejoin her friend group, all of them fawning over her harrowing experience of having to speak to him in public. The last thing he hears from Blair is, “He’s just so goddamn weird,” and then the group rounds the corner.

He closes his locker harder than he maybe needs to.

Kevin isn’t in class that day, or the next, or even the one after. The shade tree has withered and died completely, it’s color sapped and gone, and even walking near it makes him feel uneasy. His new lonely lunch spot is under the bleachers, which feels even more voyeuristic of a spot to watch the track team, but even that activity feels tainted, somehow. He’s back to being lonely.

He can’t stand being lonely.

It gets so bad he contemplates sitting, wait for it, on the bleachers, and maybe even trying to strike up a conversation, but he’s too chicken shit. He’s been going to school with these kids for the past three years, and no one’s wanted to talk to him or chat with him in all that time. He can’t imagine that’s about to change.

Still, on Thursday, miserable and lonely, he gives it a try.

Sitting up here sucks. It’s just a hard metal seat on a gloomy day, and when he’d ventured up and sat down, other people had slowly moved away from him, until he was sitting by himself, all the breathers huddled in a different area, away from him. He'd tried talking, but hardly had a "Hey, how ya doin'?" grated out before the migration began.

Figures.

He finishes eating and lies on his back, resting his hands on his chest, eyes closed, and after a while he feels someone standing over him, and something laid over his hands. He opens his eyes. There’s the most beautiful girl staring down at him. She’s got long, bleach blonde hair, darker at the roots, which is hanging down in a halo around her face, and the biggest, clearest blue eyes he’s ever seen. He glances down, to see she’s placed a daisy over his hand. He looks back up at her, amber eyes questioning.

“You looked so still,” She smiles. Her voice is like music. He thinks he can hear harps. “With your hands folded like that. Kind of like an open casket.” He’d been forgetting to breathe, apparently, which happens sometimes. She thought he looked like a corpse, and she placed a flower over him.

“Sorry, if that’s weird. You’re.. BJ?” She asks, and he picks up the daisy, sits up, and nods. “Yeah, you’re…” “Barbara,” she fills him in. “You’re not so good with names.” “Mmm. Buffy tell you that?” He recognizes her now, from that group of girls. Barbara sits next to him, which makes zero sense. “It’s Blair,” she corrects him gently, but not without a giggle in her voice. “Oh, right.” Her name could be fuckin’ Moonpie and it’d make the same amount of difference to him, but he’d agree with anything Barbara said, if it meant she kept sitting there, talking to him. “Are you going to the Halloween party?” She asks. “Supposed to be pretty killer. It kind of seems like your scene.” “I’m not exactly a social butterfly,” which is the understatement of the god damn century, honestly, but she laughs and nudges her shoulder with his. “Well, I think you should come. I bet you’d have the coolest costume. Maybe think about it?”

“I guess, maybe..” He says lamely, because his brain is short circuiting from that small touch.

“Barb, come on!” someone calls to her from a ways away, on the track. Lunch is nearly over. She stands, and smooths down the long skirt she’s wearing, which is modest but flattering. “Later, BJ,” she smiles, and just like that, she’s gone, like an angel going back up to heaven in a beam of light, off to rejoin her friends. He can hear what she says to them, though. “You guys are mean, he’s not so bad. Just shy.”

He keeps the daisy in a little glass of water on his dresser, and strums love songs on his ukulele.

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Thinking about Barbara and her smile and the way she nudged him is a fun distraction, at least for a little while, but when it’s Saturday, and he still hasn’t heard from Kevin, he decides it’s time to demon up and see what the fuck is happening with him. He’s been just teleporting Kev’s homework inside his room, and he’s sure it’s falling into a pile on the floor each time and startling him, but no one ever said how he had to deliver it. Today though, emboldened by the pretty girl on the bleachers, he appears at Kevin’s front door instead, holding Friday’s work, and he knocks. It takes a moment, but Mr. Loh answers.

Betelgeuse hasn’t had much chance to interact with Kev’s dad. He looks like a normal, tired dad, wholly unimpressive, and kinda short. Chuck could wrestle this guy to the mat, no problem.

“Oh, BJ,” Mr. Loh says, and then glances at what’s in his hands. “Kevin’s homework? Thank you. He’s holed up in his room… won’t come out.. Maybe,” and he suddenly looks hopeful. “You two are friends. Maybe you can try talking to him?”

Well, that’s what he was there to do anyways, so sure. “I gotcha, Mr. L,” he nods, stepping inside, and heading up the stairs and down the hall to Kevin’s room. The closer he gets to the door, though, the weirder he feels. Something stinks, figuratively and literally. It smells like… It smells like the waiting room. It’s that same, veil is thin type air that he can smell on Halloween night, but how the fuck is he smelling it here? He bangs on Kevin’s door. “Hey, Kev, it’s the B-Man,” he calls, trying to keep his tone playful, but he feels like he’s doing a poor job. What the hell is going on? “Come on, man, open up!” He tries again, when he receives no response. He thinks he can hear a shuffle behind the door. “Dude, I will bust this fuckin’ door down,” He growls, all the play gone from his tone. “You know I will. Better yet-”

He appears inside the bedroom, just in time for Kevin to slam shut the closet door. Kevin turns to look at him, back pressed to the wood. There’s a beat, both teens staring at each other, wide eyed, Betelgeuse in that weird way he does, and Kevin looking frazzled. “What,” the demon grates out, “the fuck, are you getting up to in here? It smells like the netherworld, Kev.” Unfortunately, that makes Kevin’s face light up. “It does? Oh my god, that’s perfect! It must be starting to work!” He crosses the bedroom, going to his desk, where an old book is sitting open. It’s not the same one he took from his friend, it can’t be, that book is still a mile down in presumably solid rock. “Another musty ass tome, great,” he growls, but Kevin ignores him, flipping through the book.

He hates feeling ignored.

A black and white striped arm sprouts from Kevin’s desk, and slams the book shut, which makes the breather turn and glare at him. “Get out of my room, BJ,” is all Kevin says, and Betelgeuse ignores that, instead crossing the floor to get a look at that book. “Where th’ hell do you keep finding these fuckin’ things?”

“This one I bought from a one armed man living out of a 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88 Royale,” Kevin recites. Betelgeuse squints at him, top teeth over bottom lip. “You’re too gay to know what that means,” he says, plainly, and Kevin shrugs. “He wouldn’t stop talking about his stupid car. I now know more about that antique than I know about geography.” It feels fun, for a second, like this drama isn’t happening, and they’re just having a conversation. It doesn’t last, though. He can’t let Kev off the hook.

“So you bought a second cursed book, this time from some amputee homeless guy, and you’re just, doing the rituals inside of it? And this seems like a super good idea to you?”

“I’m practicing,” Kevin replies.

“So what’s in the closet, Kevin?”

“Get out of my room, Betelgeuse.”

The way Kevin says his name is weird. It doesn’t feel like how it normally feels when a breather says the full thing. He shakes it off, and gives his friend a defiant look, before waving a hand and throwing open the closet door. There’s a cleared spot, in the middle of the closet floor, and a fucking summoning circle in what smells like, “Pig’s blood? Couldn’t get human?” He turns to look at Kevin, who is glaring at him intently. He matches the look.

“Betelgeuse Shoggoth, get out of my room.”

That gets his attention. It feels like an invisible hand is pushing him, and he stumbles back out of the room, confused. “W-what?” Kevin is just standing there, staring at him, and Betelgeuse stares back, eyes wild. “You motherfucker,” he hisses, eyes in snake slits, teeth sharp, claws extended. “You wanna do that “real name” bullshit with me? That the choice you’re makin’ here, Kev?”

Kevin doesn’t even look phased. “I’m working on gaining a bit more control, but looks like that works, for now.”

“You’re cracked!” Betelgeuse growls, absolutely furious. “You’re really tryin’ to summon me? Are you out of your head!?”

“You’re wasting your powers,” Kevin storms forward. “You’re a supernatural being, and you go to school and play your stupid ukulele, and don’t even try to do anything bigger. You could be stepping on everyone under you,” his former friend is going red in the face. “You could be leading, you could be ruling, but you just jerk off in your room and play pretend at being human. But someone might as well profit, here. Why not me?”

“I thought.. I thought we were friends,” is all the demon can say, lamely, and Kevin’s smile is the meanest thing he’s ever seen on a breather. “Once you’re fully listening to me, we can be friends again. Betelgeuse Shoggoth, get out of my house.”

He feels that same invisible pull, and he thinks maybe if he was stronger he could resist it, but a demon’s true name is like a lead on a dog, meant to control them, and unfortunately, Kevin has a tight hand on his leash. He makes it to the front door, and stumbles out, covering his face until he can calm himself enough to reapply his glamour.

Shit, he thinks, straightening up, and staring up at Kevin’s bedroom window. He is so fucked. ``````````````````````````````````````````````` Posted this chapter and another over at Ao3. You can read it right here

#beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice broadway #lydia deetz #emily deetz #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice the musical

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lizacstuff · 3 years

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SCK Asks: Episode 38

(asks under the cut)

Anonymous said: happy edser just HITS different. maybe it's because we've been so deprived of them together and blissful, it's such a joy to watch. i had a silly grin on my face during all their scenes. sure the tumor cloud is looming over our heads, but this episode only laid the foundation for that and then went into romcom mode, which i really appreciated because we've been bogged down for SO LONG with heaviness, it was nice to just take a breather.

OMG! Yes, all of this. And I’m not sure if it’s happy Edser that hits different, or if it was whatever magic and sparkle these writers injected into this episode that made it hit different.

The magic was BACK. The sparkle was BACK. These writers took the most ridiculous scenario idea (these two famous architects deciding to solve a murder) and just made it sing. I grinned through the whole thing and laughed out loud, A LOT.

This was the first episode in ages where I wasn’t watching the clock and waiting for some uncomfortable or unpleasant moment or scene to occur. Instead watching was pure joy and no anxiety, even with a tumor diagnosis.

There was so much good Edser in this episode it’s hard to know what to talk about. I loved every moment they were on screen together.

Anonymous said: I have to hand it to you, you said that the reason they were doing this pregnancy story is so that we could find out that Selin and Serkan never slept together. ngl I wanted her to suffer more, but as long as she’s gone I’m fine with her punishment being the humiliation of having to admit that in front of Eda.

Ha! Yes, I have said that all along, and I’ve never been more relieved to be right. They really went the extra mile with having Selin spell out that it hadn’t happened. With the English subs it almost sounded like they had never, ever had sex, even before. If so, I could actually believe it, their prior relationship seemed to be very business like, like they were each other’s safe, convenient date to business and family functions, and it wasn’t emotional or physical for him.

After the gross story around Selin, and how much damage she did and how much she got away with, this was not nearly enough comeuppance to sate my thirst for her pain. These writers started this story and introduced Selin’s role in it, so it’s not like they 100% inherited something they had nothing to do with. However, between Bige’s limited availability due to her father passing, Sarp Can having covid, and the way the other writers drug it into the ground, I’m also just happy it’s over and will deal with this being all we get, plus, while she didn’t get punished adequately, she did take her lumps. It’s humiliating that Serkan went around acting incredulous to everyone who would listen that she could be pregnant because he never touched her, even while she was his fiancé. I mean that’s a shrinker. Can you imagine agreeing to marry a man who you knew didn’t want to touch you? Everyone now knows her sad, pathetic desperation to have him under any circumstances. Yikes.

And as you say, she then had to stand in front of Eda and Serkan and admit he didn’t touch her. Admit that Serkan never wanted her, and it’s humiliating that everyone at Art Life knows what she did and thinks she’s a monster. Serkan finally knows she’s an awful manipulator who tried to trick him, and in the end she gets an unplanned pregnancy with a man who doesn’t love her and whom she doesn’t love. So it’s not like she’s winning by any stretch of the imagination.

(Though I really wish everyone knew (mostly Serkan and Eda) that she sabotaged Eda’s presentation. It’s important for the characters to know that she can’t be trusted professionally as well as personally... but oh well.)

Anonymous said: Two things: 1) I kinda love it even more that they got the tattoos before he found about the illness.. idk why but it was even MORE romantic. Also does this mean they're kinda sorta engaged again since the reason she said no in the first place was Selin? and 2) I need more of that "ring for love" bell ASAP. My jaw actually dropped when he lifted her up since we were deprived of it in 26.. please more breaking of family structures!!

Oh I agree, I found it very romantic they went and got the tattoos and the only impetus was their desire to have a symbol of their love. I already love those tattoos so much, and I love that they sat their designing them together. They really do signify the ultimate commitment.

I’m not sure if they’re engaged or not. Maybe they’re in a place where it’s obvious they’re going to get married, they both know they’re going to get married, but we’re still going to get one more proposal to make it official?

As for the ring for love bell, when and where did he get that!? Hee. And yes to more breaking of the Turkish family structure. That lift and twirl through the living room was... HOT. And it was just so effortless, there are just no words at times for how good Hande and Kerem are, I’ve really never seen anything like it. They don’t really have time to rehearse on set, or limitless takes or the time to really block and perfect things, but they’re just so good together they make magic happen every time they’re on screen. Amazing. Enjoy this kids, because you probably won’t see anything like it again.

Anonymous said: With the nature of these shows, Eda and Serkan will not a blissful happily ever after without something hanging over there heads or some new drama until the show actually ends. So if the new angst is Serkan's potential illness, I'm down for the potential angst it'll create.. it's already a good sign that, although he hasn't told her about it yet, he's not pushing her away in fear, but instead the opposite. I also don't think, and really hope not, him keeping it secret rn won't cause trouble.

Yes, I like that even with that heavy health news hanging over the episode, it was still light and funny and romantic and had that old sparkle. That tells me that they’re going to strike the right tone with this story which seems to be a very carpe diem thing with Serkan.

It didn’t bother me that he didn’t tell her. First, he told the doctor that he didn’t want anyone to know until he had a diagnosis. That makes sense, why worry her, or any of them, before they know. I’m sure I would feel different if he was pushing her away because of the diagnosis, but since he’s holding her close and just seems to want to spend time with her, without that heaviness hanging over her head, I’m okay with it.

Also, as seen in the new fragman, if this story is an excuse to get them out of the office and put them in all sorts of scenarios together it would otherwise be hard to justify, bring it on. Let’s see how far down the list of things to do they can get!

Anonymous said: i know no one reaaaally cares because they're not most people's favorite side characters, but it's really much nicer to watch aydan and ayfer scenes now that they're both on "team edser" and have become really good friends. i swear, the AAA trio scenes were so unbearable to watch when they were fighting over him and i was fast forwarding through all of them.. at least i can sit through team "united" aydan/ayfer scenes.

They’re actually enjoyable scenes now! I love that they’ve become actual true friends, best friends really, and along with Seyfi I love their little trio. Love that Seyfi and Ayfer were being so supportive about Aydan rekindling something with Kemal. And I agree that we can root for them when they’re working for Edser’s well-being and happiness. I just hope Aydan doesn’t do something stupid if there begins to be some question about Serkan’s parentage.

Anonymous said: the scooby doo gang ending had me laughing so hard i was tearing up when more and more people kept sneaking in and eda and serkan were getting more and more exasperated. erdem accidentally using flash took me tf out lmao. i love when sck does comedy with the whole cast and not just the usual "comedy" characters.. they're some of my favorite scenes! both "asking for the girl" scenes come to mind.

You could see Erdem using the flash coming from a mile away, but that still didn’t blunt the comedy when he actually did it. So funny. Also Engin not recognizing Eda, imagine him thinking Serkan is there with some rando woman. I also love the full cast comedy scenes, they are so much fun and really should be utilized as often as possible.

The scene where Edser walk back into the house and Aydan and Kemal were there paying their respects had me screech-laughing! So so so funny. Both sides being incredulous that the other was there and wanting answers! I also enjoyed that Serkan obviously put Erdem in charge of Kemal’s project, because he wants that project to go away. Unfortunately for Serkan, I think it’s going to take more than Erdem to drive Kemal away.

Anonymous said: Everyone is saying serkan planned the whole thing, do you buy into that? Idk would he really put everyone in a gunpoint situation where they don’t know it’s fake? Cause that’s some potentially trauma inducing stuff. Also I have no idea where they’re going with this, since it’s been a 4 day break from set which is kind of worrying. And do you know why Melisa wasn’t in the ep? I know Sarp can got Covid but wasn’t Melisa posting with cast members on her story throughout the week?

Wow, this is a lot of negative energy and fretting after a really good episode. Deep breath. Since you sent this, we know that Hande and Kerem have been shooting for 2 full days at a romantic looking beach location for 39, so it looks like Edser has some sort of mini-getaway. I don’t see any reason to be concerned about the 4 day break last week. (now the fragman’s out, hopefully that puts your mind at ease)

No idea why Melissa wasn’t in the ep, other than the way the ep was structured with the supporting characters, if she had to miss the ArtLife shooting day then I can see that they would have had to write her out of the full episode, because most of their scenes were there and it set up everything for the rest of the episode. So perhaps she was in quarantine for a Covid exposure, maybe she was legit sick/injured (she has had a foot thing) or maybe she had a conflict for that one shooting day. No idea, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Also her absence gave us Ferit/Melo scenes and I’m 100% behind that, give us more of those!

As far as if Serkan planned the whole thing, he did look pretty smug and relaxed while sitting there at the end, but he also wasn’t planning for the whole group to tag along and make a mess, lmao. We’ll have to see.

Anonymous said: Do you think bad ratings makes sck in danger of being cancelled or do you think high social media engagement keeps it safe?

Friends, I don’t know anything about the Turkish system, but it seems to me that SCK will either go through May or extend into summer and end then, regardless of the ratings. We shall see. As I’ve said before I’m not going to engage in the fretting and worrying and discussion on this topic because no fan really knows what they’re talking about and there is nothing we can do to change what will happen. So just enjoy the show while we can, the news on when it will end will come when it comes.

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal kapimi #edser #sck episode discussion #sckask #sck 1x38 #asklizac #anonymous

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litwitlady · 4 years

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Send Me Home (1/?)

Read on AO3.

‘The Braves are down to their last at bat, Jeff. And it’s Michael Guerin in the on-deck circle. What’s Ramon’s strategy here? Does he try to jam him up inside or keep firing fastballs and hope Guerin can’t catch up?’

It’s September in Atlanta and the Braves are playing the Marlins. Every game counts as both teams vy for a spot in October baseball. Michael Guerin is a lead candidate for MVP, and he’s always a threat in the bottom of the ninth with two outs and the bases loaded. The sellout crowd roars as his walk-up music begins to play.

I was born to the desert And to the desert I’ll return Sun-soaked and leathered Tattered and tethered Send me home, send me home, send me home

‘Ramon’s got that curveball, Chip. I’m not sure Guerin’s ever met a fastball he couldn’t hit. Especially in the bottom of the ninth. So, I think Ramon starts with the curveball even if that’s exactly what Guerin’s expecting.’

Michael steps into the batter’s box and takes a couple of quick practice swings, eyes wide and watching Ramon’s every move. He squares his hips and lowers his hands on the bat just a touch. It’s an adjustment he’s been working on for the past month or so with great success. Ramon lets loose his first pitch. As expected, it’s a nasty curveball and a pitch Michael has struck out on more than once during his twelve year career. But this time he’s prepared and anticipates perfectly where the bottom of the curve will land. He shoots a laser to shallow right field, and it drops in for a walk-off single. The dugout empties and everyone tackles him as he crosses home plate, one game closer to October.

--------

Later that night, Michael sits on the tailgate of his Chevy, beer in hand and staring up at the stars like so many nights before. Several of the guys had harassed him about going out to celebrate, but he’s not in the mood. He’s never in the mood these days. The winning still feels good and the possibility of the MVP is a dream. But for a long time now, he’s felt like there’s something missing in his life. Something essential, something elusive, something just out of his reach.

The truth is that he’s lonely. It’s a truth he can admit to himself when he’s alone underneath the cosmos watching the stars blink down at him against the wide expanse of space.

There have been relationships along the way. Women he’s dated earnestly. Once upon a time, maybe even a couple he could have loved. When he was younger, there had also been a few men. But none recently. The deeply rooted homophobia of baseball to blame. Mostly anyway. It’s strange now - everyone knows he’s bisexual, a simple Google search is all it takes. But he’s fairly certain baseball collectively decided to ignore his sexuality altogether after he got called up to the majors all those years ago.

He wants to believe he’s not afraid to be seen with men. He tells himself it’s just simpler this way, less complicated. Fewer awkward questions and the focus remaining on his athletic abilities rather than his sex life. Besides, only two major league players have ever come out and they both only did so after they’d retired. He supposes maybe he counts as the third. It’s not the stuff of fairytales, and Michael had learned that lesson during his brief stint in Double-A ball.

That feels like a lifetime ago.

Alex Manes’ new album drifts through the truck’s windows. His low, throaty voice practically purring into Michael’s ears. He’s been a big fan of Alex and his music for several years now. They’re both from New Mexico and the way he sings about the desert rings true enough to Michael that listening to one of his songs sends him right back home. Despite their many issues, he misses his brother and sister so badly sometimes he can barely breathe. Alex’s music reminds him of all the things and all the people he’s left behind - for better or worse. A couple of years ago, he’d had the opportunity to see Alex perform live but he’d turned it down. He still can’t explain why.

The night stretches out before him. Beer and music lulling him into a peaceful sleep until a bright light flashes in his face and startles him awake. He sits up and raises his hands peacefully. ‘Hey, Ernie.’

‘Oh, Mr. Guerin. I didn’t recognize you. What are you still doing here? It’s past midnight.’ He clicks the flashlight off and clips it back onto his belt. ‘Congrats on the walk-off!’

Michael shrugs. ‘Thanks. Didn’t want to go home just yet. Like watching the stars at night. But I haven’t seen you in a while. The grandkids still running circles around you?’

‘You know it! Caleb just turned five and is a holy terror. Michelle is eight going on eighteen. I can barely get a word in edgewise between the two of them.’ His eyes shine even in the darkness, crinkling at the edges.

Michael’s heart aches at Ernie’s easy, simple joy, but he manages a genuine smile thanks to the night’s shadows softening the edges of his jaw. ‘That sounds nice.’ He hops off his tailgate. ‘I’ll get out of your hair. Got an early game anyway. Need to get some sleep.’

‘Well, now, don’t let me chase you off. I don’t mind the company. It gets a little spooky at night. You can always come knock on my door if you ever need anything.’ Ernie opens the Chevy’s door for Michael and shuts it behind him. ‘All these other guys with their flashy sports cars and you in this old rust bucket. You’re a weird one, Mr. Guerin. But I like that about you.’

Michael runs his hands around the cracked steering wheel. ‘Most days this truck is about the closest thing to home I’ve got. There’s still desert dirt in the bed and an engine I rebuilt myself. What the fuck would I do with a Ferrari?’

They both laugh and Michael waves and honks his horn as he pulls out of the player’s lot. The streets are mostly empty, cars keeping to the well-lit interstate at night. He decides to stay on surface roads and take the long way home, radio softly playing old country songs. His thoughts drift to tomorrow’s game and the rookie pitcher the Marlins are starting. His own rookie year had been tough, and he makes a mental note to speak to the kid at some point during the game, ask him how he’s doing and if he’s being treated well.

The streetlights along Peachtree illuminate his path through Brookhaven. He crosses into Atlanta city limits and enters Buckhead just as ‘Lay Me Down’ by Loretta Lynn and Willie Nelson starts to play through his speakers. And all too soon, he turns down his street and opens the cedar gate at the end of his driveway, parking his truck and sitting in the darkness until the song comes to an end.

Climbing out of his truck, he unlocks the front door with his telekinesis, slipping inside quietly and deactivating his alarm system. He’d bought the house in foreclosure, spending most of his money on remodeling the mid-century ranch. It’s not extravagant, but it’s the most expensive thing he owns. He’d even let Isobel fly out to decorate the place within a very strict budget, and he’d had to admit she’d done a great job - one side of his front door Atlanta, the other side New Mexico.

But even so, it has never felt like home.

The first few nights he’d spent in the house had been rough. It was too quiet and too soft and too much. More than once he’d grabbed his ancient, worn sleeping bag and crawled into the bed of his truck. Sleeping hard on the uncomfortable. ribbed metal but beneath the stars he loved so much. The morning dew waking him with the sun each morning.

These days he manages to sleep in bed at night, but only because he’d installed two skylights overhead so that the stars would always be his. And only his. He rarely brings anyone home anymore, preferring their house to his. But when he does, he takes them to a guest bedroom. None of them ever seem to mind how empty the space is or how devoid of personality. Four blank walls and a lone bed filling the room. Why would they? It’s not Michael the foster kid from the desert they’re sleeping with. It’s Michael Guerin the multi-millionaire first baseman with the single-season home run record and the aw-shucks, good boy smile.

Tonight he doesn’t bother turning on any lights. He just pads through the kitchen to grab an apple and a bottle of water, undresses and climbs into bed. He takes a large bite of the granny smith and pulls out his phone, calling Isobel.

‘Congrats on the walk-off!’ He can hear another game in the background. Isobel had never watched a baseball game in her life - including any of his - until the day he’d gotten drafted right out of high school. But now she watches all of them. Or as many of them as possible. Her scouting reports are better than anything stamped official and readily available in the team clubhouse.

‘Thanks. Didn’t really see the ball that well tonight, though. Is Max there?’ It’s stupid to ask when he already knows the answer.

‘Out with Liz. They’ve been inseparable ever since she moved back to Roswell. It’s gross and I miss you.’ The sound on her tv goes silent and he knows she’s settling in for a long conversation. ‘Tell me about tomorrow. Any surprises?’

‘No. New kid on the mound just called up. Got a mean slider. Torres has some pain in his wrist so he’ll be benched.’ Michael finishes his apple in two large bites and guzzles his water, listening to Isobel pound away at her keyboard already deep in research mode. ‘Might get me moved up to the number two slot.’

They spend fifteen minutes strategizing. It’s what they do most nights. Isobel critiquing the numbers based on intuition and her own database of knowledge concerning the human psyche, while he runs statistical analyses and probabilities in his head faster than humanly possible. Michael suggests more than once that she’d make a great scout and that maybe when he retires they can go into business together. He’s told her this a million times, but she only laughs him off and reminds him that she already has a job.

‘A worthless job that doesn’t pay you what you deserve.’ He reaches for the tv remote on his nightstand but can’t find it. Not that it matters. He switches the television on with his mind and nods his head through the channels, stopping on an old western and muting the volume.

‘Philanthropy is not worthless, Michael!’ She sighs loudly to punctuate her exasperation. ‘And my salary is not the point - the point is helping people. Besides, I have all of Noah’s money and can negotiate more pay any time I choose.’

That he believes. ‘How’d your date go last night?’ Asking Isobel about her date absolutely means she’ll push him to share something just as personal. But it was her first official date with a woman and he genuinely wants to know how it went. No matter the price he’ll pay.

‘Really, really, really well.’ He can hear the grin in her voice and it makes him smile. ‘She’s a cardiologist and very good with her hands. Valenti makes a pretty superb matchmaker. Maybe I’ll ship him your way because you could certainly use the help.’

Michael rolls his eyes and fakes a groan. ‘You can keep Valenti. Don’t you think it’s weird to have your ex setting you up on dates? Do you really think he’s the best judge of character?’

‘Kyle knows me better than most. He was my first relationship after Noah and he put up with a lot. I trust him implicitly with my heart and yours. Plus, I was the one who broke up with him.’

‘My heart is fine, thanks.’ He lies smoothly and knows exactly how she’s going to respond.

‘I can’t stand the thought of you all the way across the country in that foreign place with no one to go home to at night.’

He snorts. ‘It’s called Georgia, Iz. And I’m not home enough for a relationship to work right now.’

‘Half the guys on your team - on any team! - are married. So that’s a pisspoor excuse. You keep pushing everyone away. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know you, Michael. As soon as you start to feel something, the doors slam shut and you become another stereotypical lonewolf cowboy.’ Her voice is loud now, vehement and self-righteous. They’ve reenacted this scene so many times it feels very paint by number at this point. ‘I hardly ever hear a smile in your voice anymore.’

She’s right and she knows it. He used to love dating, meeting new people. First kisses and first fucks. Last kisses and farewell fucks. He lived for those moments and now he hardly ever looks anyone in the eye. ‘We have this conversation at least once a month. And nothing has changed. It’s too hard right now, Iz. I’m too known to ever really be known. Not the way I would want to be. Not in any way that I would trust.’

There’s no use arguing so they move on to easier topics. Max and LIz’s ongoing romance, details of Isobel’s date, Maria’s remodel of the Pony thanks to a very generous anonymous donation. Every word out of her mouth squeezes his heart a little bit tighter until it’s too much and he says goodnight.

Flipping onto his side, he reaches his arm out to the other side of the bed, running his hand over the cold, unwrinkled sheet. His eyes land on the empty pillow no head ever touches and tries to imagine a face looking back at him. A face that might smile suggestively or quietly murmur goodnight. But he’s unable to conjure anything beyond a blank, shapeless outline. It makes him feel pathetic so he yanks the pillow underneath his own head and forces his eyes shut, trying in vain to quiet his mind. Despite his best efforts, sleep takes its sweet time finding him.

The next morning he’s exhausted but gets to the field early. He’d woken up to a cryptic message from Isobel. There’s a surprise waiting for you after the game! Stick around this time, Michael. Don’t make me get on a plane. He’s sure that can’t mean anything good, but he attempts to put it out of his mind for now.

The ballpark is already bustling with activity. Michael heads into the clubhouse to change. He stops and asks Stan, their hitting coach, for some extra work before the rest of the team arrives. He’s worried about how he’s been shifting his wrists recently and wants someone else’s opinion. The adjustments he’d made last night seem to be working, but he’s worried about straining a muscle or tweaking the wrong tendon. Two of his teammates are already on the IL with wrist pain. He doesn’t want to be next, especially with the postseason race and his run at MVP on the line.

Michael finds Danny Marks asleep in one of the clubhouse’s leather chairs. He swats him on the head on the way to his locker, laughing at Danny’s loud yelp. ‘Fuck, man, you’re always asleep. How did you manage to stay awake on the mound long enough to put together two Cy Young seasons?’

‘Talent, Guerin. Talent. You should try it sometime. Maybe then you’ll win MVP.’ Danny yawns and stretches his arms over his head. Michael glares at him. ‘Don’t worry. You’re still the favorite. Our very own diamond darling. No one else is getting their own personal concert any time soon.’

‘What?’ He sits on the chair at his locker, blinking at Danny in confusion. ‘Personal concert?’ Isobel’s strange text message flashes through his head again while he inwardly groans.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Danny grins and crosses his ankles on the table in front of him, brashly enjoying the way Michael squirms. ‘Alex Manes is traveling down from Nashville just for you - baseball’s most beloved first baseman.’ He throws a toy football at Michael’s head, chuckling when it bounces off his curls. ‘He’s not bad looking, you know.’

‘Stop.’ Danny is Michael’s best friend on the team and the only one he feels comfortable enough to have this conversation with. ‘Whose idea was this? Did Isobel do something? Or was this you?’

Michael doesn’t want this. Not at all. And he can’t exactly explain why. Music is personal to him - profoundly personal. Always has been since he was nothing but an unloved kid trapped in various violent foster homes. It was music that had kept him warm at night and music that had loved him best. The only escape available to him during most of his darkest hours.

Over the years, there have been many artists he’s considered favorites. Most of them old country crooners or folk song heroes. Much like Alex Manes. But with Alex, it’s something more. Something he has a hard time vocalizing. They are both from New Mexico. Both spent a chunk of their formative years in Roswell. Michael has read or watched multiple interviews with Alex where he’s alluded heavily to an abusive father. His lyrics certainly do the same. Lots of kids grow up that way - Michael knows he’s not alone in that particular fate - but the way Alex puts that pain to music settles something inside his chest that has never been settled before.

So the thought of meeting Alex worries Michael. They say don’t meet your heroes for a reason. In his head, Alex represents a sense of safety, a sense of home. What happens when they meet and that’s taken from him? Because maybe Alex is a liar. Or maybe he’s a dick. Either possibility is very real. He’s also a vet, and Michael hates, hates, hates the military. And he doesn’t want to hate Alex. Doesn’t want to lose his music. Cannot emotionally afford to lose his music if he’s being honest.

‘Isobel apparently knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. I just didn’t try and stop her. Or Lena.’ Danny’s wife is Isobel’s favorite human. It’s the worst thing that’s happened to Michael since meeting Danny. The two of them have done nothing but make his life one unasked for surprise after another. ‘Besides, even if you hate it, the team could really use some fun before heading into the postseason. Some good old-fashioned team bonding, my friend. And this time, you don’t get to run away. The guys need to see their captain smile every once in a while.’

Michael sighs and changes into his warmups. Danny’s phone rings and he grins one last time at Michael before disappearing for some privacy. Michael decides to push Alex Manes to the back of his mind and concentrate on the game ahead of him. Stan is waiting, anyway. So he’ll focus on his wrists for now and worry about everything else later. The one thing he does do, however, is pull out his phone and send Isobel a very pointed text.

You should have gotten my permission first.

Isobel’s text response is nothing but the angel halo emoji. Michael wishes his telekinesis was strong enough to travel across state lines because he’d like to throw her phone into the wall. Since that option is not available to him, he sends Max a text instead.

Your sister is a menace.

He pockets his phone, not bothering to wait on an answer. Max tends to be too busy these days. Not that that’s anything new really. Unless your name is Liz Ortecho or Isobel Evans, he doesn’t have much time for you.

The morning stretches by as gametime approaches. Batting practice goes well and Michael works with Stan on keeping his wrists from turning too much when he swings. His teammates have all found out about the concert by the time the first pitch is thrown and none of them will let him forget it. Each time his walk-up music begins to play, Danny leads a small group of particularly bad vocalists in a sing-a-long. All of them belting out the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Michael tries to keep the stupid grin off his face and almost suceeds.

He won’t admit it, but he actually begins to get excited. Doesn’t even mind when Max only ends up responding with a snarky text.

Try living less than five miles from her.

He’d give anything to live five miles from Isobel. Michael loves his teammates. He really does. Atlanta has one of the best team dynamics in baseball. Maybe the best. They support each other, love one another, and when they say family, they mean it. Team dinners and family outings are normal even during the off season. Michael doesn’t avoid spending time with them because he dislikes anyone - although there have been various tiffs in the past but nothing long lasting. He avoids them because he loves them enough to let his mouth loosen too much, all his secrets threatening to tumble out with no regard for his safety or the safety of his siblings.

He knows this because it has happened on more than one occasion. Years ago during his rookie years when living hard and drinker harder were his nightly norm. On any given night you’d find him at the bar, four fingers deep into a bottle of bourbon, mouthing off about moving things with his mind. It wasn’t the booze talking; it was his loneliness. The throbbing homesick ache in his chest that only Max and Isobel could smooth away. Once he knew his teammates were shitfaced, he’d let some little comment slip about his abilities. Half of them never paid any attention to the things he said and the other half merely laughed at him.

He’d told Isobel one night about the things he said and she’d yelled at him solidly for an hour. The next day he’d gotten a nasty phone call from Max and has kept his mouth shut ever since that conversation.

Keeping their secret is important. Michael understands that, but the lying exhausts him. He loves Danny and hates that the most important part of himself Danny and Lena can never know. He loves his other teammates, and he doesn’t want to hide this huge part of himself from them forever. The lying has always made him feel unclean - distant and deceptive. Back in Roswell, it had been easier. He hadn’t had many friends and the people closest to him shared the same secret. But now, the people he sees every single day aren’t allowed to know the real him. It breaks his heart in a way he could never have anticipated, making him feel truly alien.

Michael and Isobel had jumped through enormous hoops to keep his DNA secret from team doctors and drug testers. It’s the only reason he’d ever agreed to her mind influence.

A major league baseball player cannot have telekinetic superpowers, alien or not. The cheating accusations would be immediate and relentless - his career over and his name shamed forever. Regardless of the fact that he would never dream of cheating to advance his career. Besides, he’s self-aware enough - or perhaps cocky enough - to understand that his level of talent doesn’t require any telekinetic assistance. Michael Guerin is just that fucking good.

During his last at bat in the eighth inning, Alex Manes’ face flashes on the digital scoreboard high above centerfield advertising the aftergame concert. Michael concentrates on keeping his wrists tight and imagines that Alex is somewhere in the stadium watching him. He swings at the first pitch - a fastball left too high over the plate - and knows he’s gotten every piece of it by the cracking sound his bat makes. He starts a slow run to first base and watches the ball sail over the leftfield wall. With his signature two claps, he rounds first and enjoys the cheering crowd chanting his name. Stepping on the bag at home plate, his eyes glance back up at the scoreboard, but Alex’s face has disappeared. And suddenly his nerves have returned tenfold at the realization that soon he’ll be face to face with a man he has no idea how to talk to - what to say or even if he’ll get a chance to say anything at all.

Despite the cheers and happy butt slaps from his teammates, the pit in Michael’s stomach stretches wide. In the clubhouse, he checks his phone again and one last final message from Isobel lights up his screen.

He wants to meet you first.

#malex #malex fic #three strikes - the tentative cheesy baseball title #send me home - the real title

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cherryblossomflowers · 4 years

Text

DDD Week #8

Pairing: Jensen x Daughter!Reader, Jared x Niece!Reader

Summary: YN is off to college, but Jensen isn't ready to let his little girl go so he drags Jared with him to YN's university to check it out.

Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Yelling/Fighting

A/N: Week #8 of DDD is here! Make sure to check out @mlovesstories Week #8 and their masterlist! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

Jensen: 42 Jared: 38 YN: 18

***ASK OPEN***

*LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED*

Dynamic Duo Drabbles Masterlist

"'Why don't you trust me,' she typed to both of the boys."

With freedom in her sights, YN pulls into a parking spot in front of her dorms. She steps out of her Jeep and stares up at the four-story building in front of her.

A boy in a bright yellow T-shirt and clipboard in hand ran up towards YN, "Hi, I'm Trey. And I'm helping freshmen with their move-ins. Can I have your name?"

"Oh, uh, I'm YN Ackles."

Trey gave her a shocked look, "So it's true. We have a celebrity at our school."

YN immediately shook her head, "No, no. Just a regular girl who's parents happen to be celebrities that wants to get her degree and have her own life."

Trey nodded, "Yes ma'am! So you'll be on the 3rd floor, room 302," he paused reading his clipboard, "Oh, and your roommate is already checked in so she should be up there."

YN nodded, "Thanks, uh, is there any way you could help me with the mini fridge?"

Trey smiled, "Sure thing."

Across campus, Jensen and Jared sat in the bed of Jensen's truck looking at YN's Jeep in the parking lot.

"Jay, this isn't a good idea," Jared said.

Jensen sighed, "She's my babygirl. I need to make sure she's safe."

"Spying on her isn't the best way to do it though."

"What else am I supposed to do? Blow up her phone with calls and texts, asking her-"

Just then, Jensen's phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw YN's name flashing across the screen.

He quickly answered, "Hi honey. Did you make it to school all right?"

"Yeah, I just got checked in and one of the RA's are helping me with my fridge."

Jensen paused, "RA? Male or female?"

"Dad, I'm 18. Boys aren't your concern anymore."

"You're right, you're right. I'm sorry. So how' the-"

"Sorry, Dad. I got to go. Trey is helping me with my stuff. Call you tonight!"

"Wait wait, who's Trey-"

YN hung up before Jensen could get another word in. His phone dropped to his lap and he stared off towards YN's Jeep.

"Well," Jared said, "What did she say?"

"We can't leave, Jared. We have to stay here. She's with some boy."

Jared laughed, "Jensen, she's dated guys before. That's not new."

"No he's...he's helping her with her belongings. What if he helps her unpack? What if they..." Jensen shivered at the thought in his head.

Jared sighed, "So what? Are we just going to camp out here all day?" ______________________ YN and her roommate were walking out of their building and towards the university square where there was a karaoke show happening. YN had quickly become friends with her roommate and was getting more comfortable with the college life.

There were many people that recognized her because of her father, but she shrugged it off and explained to them that is not who she is here.

She was simply YN Ackles, an English and Psychology double major from Austin, Texas.

YN and her roommate found a spot near the stage so they could watch the show. Several people came up to YN, introducing themselves and asking to sit near her.

Back across campus, Jensen is still sitting at the bed of his truck but this time he had a pair of binoculars and is watching YN from afar.

Jared is in the passenger seat of the truck, wishing he was home instead of here.

"Hey, Jared. There's like a ton of kids grouping around her," Jensen yelled behind him.

"Mhmm," Jared responds.

"And it looks like...it's older boys! Why are older boys around her?!"

"Who knows."

"Jared, are you evening listening?"

Jared stuck his head out of the truck, "To be honest, no. I stopped listening about 4 hours ago when you kept freaking out that YN hadn't come out of her room."

Jensen sighed, "I just want-"

"To make sure she's safe. I know, Jay."

Jensen grumbled and went back to spying on his daughter. Jared rolled his eyes and new he was going to regret leaving the truck.

Jared got out of the truck and walked towards Jensen, "She is safe though, Jensen. Look at her, she's having fun. She's meeting new people. She's-"

"She's getting on stage!" Jensen yelled as he stood from the bed of the truck.

YN was in fact walking on the stage after everyone was cheering her name, begging her to sing. She laughed and tried to talk her way out of it, but it was no use.

She walked on the stage and stood in front of the microphone, "Hey, uh, hey everyone. Um, so I guess I'll be singing...something."

YN walked over to the DJ and gave him a song to play then she walked back in front of the microphone.

Jensen grabbed Jared's shoulders, "What if she starts singing and they throw things at her?!"

"Jensen, you and I both know that won't happen. YN has a beautiful singing voice."

"But what if she messes up the words?" Jensen continued panicking.

"It's karaoke. That happens."

"But what if...what if..."

"Jay, you have got to calm down. YN is fine. She's having a good time. Just leave her be. Let's go back to Austin and let her live her life," Jared stated calmly.

Jensen sighed, "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm overreacting."

Jared looked past Jensen to the stage, "Isn't that the guy that helped her move in today?"

"What?!" Jensen spun around.

They were right. Trey joined YN on stage for a duet of Shallow. The music began to play, the guitar begin strummed made YN sway in front of the microphone.

Trey walked up to the microphone, closed his eyes, and sang his part, "Tell me somethin', girl. Are you happy in his modern world? Or do you need more? Is there somethin' else you're searchin' for? I'm falling. In all the good times I find myself Longin' for change. And in the bad times I fear myself..."

Trey smiled at YN after singing his part. She blushed at him and smiled back.

While Trey was singing, Jensen devised a plan, "Okay, we're going down there. And we're just going to listen. But if something happens, we're getting her out of there."

"Jay, this isn't a good idea. You really aren't thinking-"

"Oh, she's about to sing. Let's go!"

Jensen hauled ass and ran towards the stage. Jared rolled his eyes and ran after him. He quickly caught up to Jensen, but not by running past him.

Jared tripped over his own feet. He fell and ended up rolling down the hill towards the stage. Jensen turned and saw Jared rolling behind him. He tried to dodge, but Jared ran into him, causing him to fall as well.

Meanwhile, YN was singing her part on stage, "Tell me something, boy. Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void? Or do you need more? Ain't it hard keeping it so hardcore? I'm falling..." but she got interrupted by Jensen and Jared.

The two men fell on the stage right behind her. YN and Trey turned around and saw Jensen on top of Jared holding his head.

Jensen looked up to YN and chuckled nervously, "Hey, sweetheart. We, uh, we just wanted to check in. See how college was going."

Trey then yelled out, "Holy shit, it's Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki!"

The crowd started screaming and fangirling at the two celebrities. They crowded around the stage, jumping around in excitement.

Jensen and Jared finally got to their feet and walked up behind YN. Jensen laid a hand on her shoulder, but YN quickly shoved it off.

"What the hell are you two doing?" YN yelled.

Jared turned to Jensen, "Before we explain, just know your father dragged me into this."

Jensen glared at Jared, "Thanks, man," he turned back to YN, "Honey, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Safe? Dad, have you been here all day?"

Jensen looked at his feet, "Not all day. More like 5 minutes after you got here this afternoon."

"What? Have you lost your minds? Do you seriously not trust me enough to be on my own that you'd just crash in here?" YN screamed.

"No, no. It's not that we don't trust you. We just don't trust..." Jensen pointed at Trey, "That. Boys like him have intentions with girls like you."

YN clenched her teeth, "Girls like what, Dad?"

Jensen gulped, "Just like...girls that are, you know, innocent and such and-"

"And nothing, Dad. I can't believe you two don't trust me! And Trey? He's an RA, all he did was help me move into my room. I asked him to sing with me on stage, big deal. He's a friend."

Jared stepped towards YN, "We're sorry, YN. Truly, we are."

YN shook her head as tears filled her eyes, "No you're not. You embarrassed me. You made me look so stupid. And now nobody will see me as myself. They'll only see me as Jensen's kid or Jared's niece," she turned away from them and mumbled, "I hope you're happy."

Then YN sprinted back to her building and to her dorm. Jared and Jensen stood on the stage and watched her run.

"We messed up," Jensen whispered.

Jared turned and hit the back of his head, "You think?!"

That night, Jared and Jensen sat on Jensen's couch and stared blankly at the wall in front of them. Genevieve and Danneel scolded them when they got back, both women receiving phone calls from YN before the men got home.

Jared sighed, "I'm the worst uncle."

Jensen scoffed at him, "Worst uncle? Try being the worst father."

Then Jensen's and Jared's phones chimed, alerting them of a text. They were both shocked to see YN's name on their screens. They exchanged a worried look before opening the message.

YN sat on her bed, still crying from the events that happened that evening. Her roommate was out of the room, leaving YN alone.

She stared at the ceiling, talking to herself, "Why? Why did that humiliate me like that? What made them think that was okay? Do they...do they not trust me to make the right choices?"

YN pulled out her phone and typed out a text to Jensen and Jared. "Why don't you trust me", she typed to both of the boys.

Jensen and Jared stared at their phones for a moment, reading YN's message over and over again.

"How am I going to fix this, Jared?" Jensen asked his best friend.

Jared shrugged, "To be honest, I don't think you can. This is going to take some time. Just...just leave her alone for a while. Let her call you when she's ready."

Jensen nodded, "You're right."

That night, Jensen and Jared didn't move from the couch. They both felt so bad from their actions. YN cried herself to sleep. She didn't understand why her father and uncle did what they did.

To be honest, Jensen nor YN knew what to do. It's just going to take time to get over this.

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

Masterlist

My Cherry Blossoms

@mlovesstories @adorable-minibot @chessurkait

@idksupernatural @desiredposion @thevelvetseries @let-me-luve-you

@obsessedwithfandomsx @mangueweaschester @starchildwild @deans-baby-momma

@spnbaby-67 @unicornmadness2444

@emery--nicole--morrison @spnfamily-j2 @akshi8278

@wecantgiggleitsafandom

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bisluthq · 4 years

Note

One thing that I think you’re missing from the Lover “invisible muse” theory is that Lover is the only album she’s ever written about someone while she was dating them, without having any kind of shield/protection.

Someone wrote a very smart thread on Twitter when Lover came out, about how it’s difficult to write and release songs about someone you’re coming home to every night. It’s one thing to write ATW, Style, IWYW, Dear John, SBT, I Almost Do... about past relationships and then say “I never name names!” (even though everybody knows - or suspects - who you’re singing about); it’s another thing to write songs about the person you’re currently dating and you want to have a successful relationship with. Everybody knows (or thinks) that she’s singing about Joe. And sure, maybe she’s not (we’re not in her mind), but the point is that everyone is gonna automatically assume that everything she sings is about him. And she sure as hell didn’t t help her case when she said that her music is about her life (something that she was still doing during the Lover era, let’s not forget that).

Which is why that Twitter thread said that in Lover the perspective is strongly hers. We hear very few details about Joe, it’s more about what she feels for him, and that’s because she needs to come back to him at night. That’s a person - and a relationship - she treats with care (per her words): she’s not gonna air his dirty laundry (or even go into excessive praise of him) in public. If she did that, the relationship would probably become unmanageable.

Why was she able to go more in depth with rep and folklore/evermore? Because she had a shield. With rep it was the persona she constructed, and with folklore/evermore it’s the narrative that she isn’t writing solely about herself. The latter has always been true, but now she’s officially saying it out loud and she’s making sure that everybody knows it (look at the SNL skit...), which means that she’s more comfortable singing about him/their relationship more in depth: because she has the shield of “this is fiction” protecting her.

Lover is the only album she’s ever written about someone while being with that someone and without having any kind of protection. In rep she’s singing from another persona for half of the album, and in the other half she’s only ever singing about cute little stuff related to him. Plus she wrote almost all the songs on rep BEFORE news broke that they were dating. On folklore and evermore the EXPLICITLY autobiographical songs are VERY much about her/about cute stuff (lss, invisible string...). Even when they’re about something deeper, they’re about how HER problems influence the relationship (peace). The songs where she really sings about their problems from his point of view are all fictional (like cowboy like me).

She’s simply protecting her own mental health, their relationship and probably also him. With her last two albums she found a very balanced way to protect her own mental health and her relationship, with Lover she was still navigating how to do that, imo.

And anyway, Cornelia Street, Paper Rings, False God, Afterglow (and Cruel Summer, but I know you don’t think it’s about him) are all VERY detailed and personal. London Boy is not meant to be taken seriously, but it still has cute little details about their relationship (like the whole “so please show me Hackney, doesn’t have to be Louis V up on Bond Street” which mimics KOMH). Daylight, MA&THP and ME! are meant to be from her perspective from the very beginning. The only songs that really strike me as “distant” and “generic” are ITHK and everything in Lover apart from the bridge. But she wanted the latter to be a wedding song: that’s why she made the verses and the chorus generic enough so that everybody could relate to them in a wedding dance, and then she wrote an incredibly autobiographical bridge to show that the song is still hers. And about ITHK she said “Basically, I was playing around with the idea of quiet confidence. There's something so sick about quiet confidence; somebody who, they're not arrogant, they're not cocky, like, that's obnoxious. But, there are certain people who just walk in and they don't need to be arrogant because there's something beaming from within them that they probably aren't even in control of. And when you meet a person like this, you're like, 'Why do I want to walk over there and talk to that person?' I can't explain it, but I think it's this quality. It can be a really shy person, it's not like you gotta be loud. Some people just seem like they know who they are, they don't need to brag about it” and that SCREAMS Joe, so I think she very much had him in mind when writing the song.

Fair points and very eloquently argued!

One thing I feel strongly about lol because I’m such a simp for that song (like I know she meant for Lover to be a wedding song but this is probs gonna be mine if my future spouse agrees lol): I don’t think she sings about problems from his POV in CLM. I think that’s a very romantic song but obvi fictionalized. I think the only real deep dive we’ve had on how both parties feel or have felt is CI and maybe parts of evermore and I think that’s because they’re co-written I think he contributed his own ideas and feelings and thoughts.

#nat talks lover #nat talks swiftwyn

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creativenostalgiastuff · 5 years

Text

Butterflies

Summary: Virgil made Roman promise that he wouldn’t fall for him. Virgil never made the same promise. And as they get ready for the High School Theater Awards, Virgil is left not quite sure what he thinks. Pairings: Prinxiety Warnings: homophobia mention, theater mentions, falling mention, stress, worry, awards, kissing, flowers Word Count: 5853 Author’s Note: I was watching Phineas and Ferb and Isabella says a line that was my springboard for this story. It takes place after Locked and before Last Words. I guess it's kind of forming its own Prinxiety Human AU because I keep adding more to this set up. Anyway, again this can be read as part of that or separately. Up to you. Just lots of feelings that were fun to explore.

Virgil lays on the stage, a foot dangling over the side as he places his head down on his knee, waiting, amongst the confetti scattered across the floor. The lights are up in full, the castle backdrop that had been used in at least twenty different productions before this one swaying slightly in the breeze from the open backstage door.

He closes his eyes, listening to the commotion in the vestibule outside of the theater. All of the families, friends, teachers, and other students gushing over the cast of the show, congratulating them for their performances and hard work. It will still be a bit before the cast comes in to turn in their mics, not that Virgil minds. He knows his family isn’t out there (he didn’t tell them when the show was… or even that he was in another show) and he doesn’t like crowds anyway. He is happy to just sit there and calm down from the show hype.

Virgil takes a deep breath, shakily letting it out as he looks around the theater. Admittedly, Virgil can’t quite figure out why his chest feels so tight. Maybe it has something to do with the release of all the pent up stress from his role as Prop Master. Running backstage had been stressful enough when he wasn’t in a leadership role, but lord help him when it came to being put in charge of the props.

Or, maybe, it had something to do with the impending high school theater awards nominations. The student critics had been attending the show all weekend. Their reviews would come out by Wednesday, nominations for awards announced Friday, and then two weeks until the Gala where the winners would be announced.

“Oh, Virgil!” a sing-song voice rings as the door to the theater opens. “You have visitors!”

Virgil smiles as his eyes find his friends. Patton skips down the center aisle towards him, a flower tucked behind his ear, probably from a cast member’s bouquet.

“It really was a great show,” says Patton, his grin large and genuine. “And you did a great job backstage! Everyone is talking about it. Best Junior Senior show in the history of the program! I can’t wait to take a turn at it next year with you guys!”

“It is regrettable that we were not able to participate in this show,” Logan nods. “You designed a fantastic, functional carriage and your props organization system was highly regarded by both the cast and crew.”

Virgil laughs dismissively as he stuffs his hands into his hoodie’s pocket, “Right. System. Or, you know, excessively fussing over items to the point of annoying the cast into submission.”

“You did well, Virge,” Patton reassures. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a nomination.”

“Yeah, nominations,” Virgil blinks as he thinks about the upcoming city awards for the different high school theater programs. Cinderella was the last show before nominations were announced. “I don’t know. It's a talented city.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Patton encourages. “Go to the cast party and just relax. What’s done is done.”

Before Virgil can respond, the doors open and a blob of bright, glittering blue fabric fills the doorway. An arm emerges from the blob followed by the torso of a girl shouting, “Ay, yo, Prince! Push me through!”

“Dude, I’m trying. Your hoop is stuck!”

Virgil sprints up to the stuck Cinderella, “Woah, wait, stop! That hoop is a rental! Alana, back up, fold the hoop and then come through.”

Alana does as directed and gets through the doorway easily this time, “Yeah, I think the costume department would cry if I tore this dress. How many hours did it take?”

“It was a semester project for Talyn, so more than you want to know,” Roman answers as he follows his princess through the door, straightening the golden crown on his head. Virgil can’t help but notice the confidence that was almost glowing around this Prince: his posture straight and tall, a smile that could stop traffic, a sparkle in his eye that made them seem bright and full. Snapchat wished it could make a filter to make people look like Roman did after a great performance, thought Virgil as he took in the sight of his friend.

“Virgil?”

Virgil shook his head, snapping back to reality, “Sorry, yeah?”

Alana turned around and pointed at the battery pack hidden on the hip pocket at the back of the dress (did Virgil say how amazing the dress design was for student work?), “Take my mic? I need to get out of this monstrosity.”

“Right,” Virgil says as he helps Alana get out of her mic, trying to ignore Roman; a task which was getting harder for Virgil as their friendship grew. Roman was such a big personality he seemed to demand attention. That meant that the more time Virgil spent with him, the more attention Roman took.

“Roman, Alana!” Patton calls as he bounces up and wraps the two leads in a big bear hug, “I am so proud of you two! That was such a good show!”

Virgil finally untangles Alana, “You’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” she responds as she turns to face the group, “And thanks, Patton. It was a good last run. Only thing that would make it better is if we can at least get a nomination my senior year. It’d be nice to leave a legacy.”

“What is a legacy?” Roman immediately starts asking, striking dramatic poses. “Its leaving seeds in a garden you never get to see.”

“Come here, Mr. Legacy,” Virgil quips back with a roll of his eyes. “Before you pull a wire with your dramatics.”

“And I’m going to get out of this,” Alana says as she grabs as much of her dress as she can.

“Need help with doors?” Patton asks, already headed towards the door.

“That’d be great,” answers the princess. “Logan, can you help grab more of this?”

“Yes ma’am,” responds Logan as Alana hands him an armful of dress. “How did you do this for the production?”

“Mice,” Alana answers flatly as she picks up more dress. She takes a moment to pointedly make eye contact with Virgil, as if trying to send a secret message. Whatever the message is, Virgil doesn’t catch it, but it does make his ears red as the three of them maneuver her out of the theater and down to the green room to change.

Virgil returns his attention to getting the mic off of Roman. The costume strategically hides his mic pack in his red sash, the wire running along it up to his shoulder before it blends into his hair. Easy enough to free. Without a word, Virgil gets to work fishing it out of the sash as his friend works to free himself from the mic in his hair.

They are friends, right? After the events in the locked choir room, Virgil doesn’t really know what is happening as far as their relationship, if you want to call it that, is concerned.There was a time where Virgil couldn’t stand the sight of Roman Prince. But things change. Roman has been true to his word, not telling anyone about Virgil being gay. They are fine doing things without Logan and Patton with them, which hadn’t always been true.

Throughout the run of the show, Roman had gone out of his way to ensure that Virgil was included when the cast and crew did things; extending invites and offering rides. And Virgil realized he didn’t mind the large social gatherings with Roman. Something about Roman was almost calming, reassuring in those situations. Virgil almost found himself waiting for the next party, just so that he could hang out with Roman when he was in his element as Mr. Popular. Wanting to spend time with friends was normal, right?

“So, Virge,” Roman asks quietly, pulling Virgil from his thoughts, “you are coming to the cast party with me, aren’t you?”

“Uh…” Virgil begins, stuttering. With me?

“I mean, I’m taking Logan and Patton in my car, so it just makes sense you’d come too,” Roman explains as he hands the mic over his shoulder to Virgil, his words fast. “Sorry, I shouldn’t assume you’re going. It’s totally up to you. Just, you know, you always have a seat in my car if you want it. ”

It takes Virgil a moment to steady his voice, aiming for his signature indifference, as he takes the mic and checks the battery is turned off, “Sure.”

“Perfect!” Roman turns, a smile beaming before he starts walking towards the door. “Give me five to change and then we’ll head out!”

Virgil waits until the door to the theater clicks before he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He takes a steadying breath as he heads towards the sound booth, his face burning up and heart fluttering.

~:-:~

Virgil sits in his last period class, his leg bouncing as he watches the second hand on the clock make its rounds, counting down the minutes. Why does the last period on the last day of the week always feel like the longest? He knows he isn't the only one anxious for once.

The whole Cinderella cast had been a mess since Wednesday when they got their reviews from the student critics. They had been overwhelmingly positive, showering them with praise for everything from their costume design to their ensemble to their leads. Virgil found it hard to stay realistic, getting swept up in the hope of his fellow cast and crew. The energy had been undeniably infectious and Roman was definitely the patient zero of the group. As soon as that bell rang, the whole theater department would take off running to check the board.

“They do realize the stampede of students will be worse than when they post the cast lists, right?” Logan inquires to Virgil, turning in his seat to face him.

Virgil shrugs, chewing absently on his thumb nail, “Will that stop us from doing it?”

“No, I would think not,” Logan smirks as he turns back and folds his hands on his desk. Virgil rolls his eyes at Logan’s quiet patience.

“What are the odds we get nominated again?” asks Virgil, leaning forward so that he could talk softly to Logan’s ear.

“As I have told you, it depends on the category,” answers Logan while still facing front, his hands folded on the desk. “North Valley had a well recieved My Fair Lady, Mount Battenhorn’s stage for Les Mis was all anyone wanted to talk about in the forums for months.”

“Right, right,” sighs the emo as he sits back in his seat. His eyes flit back to the clock and the remaining few minutes before they would be dismissed. His class was about as far from the theater as he could get. Virgil would have to push upstream of the students if he wanted to check the board. Fast, too, if he wants to catch his bus.

Virgil can’t help the burning question from bubbling out, “But like, what are the chances that Roman…”

“Roman will get nominated?,” Logan finishes the question in unison with Virgil. He sighs as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “As I have told you the last three times you have asked in this class alone, I am optimistic of Roman’s chances. As I am sure you would agree based on your personal experience, he makes a very convincing Prince Charming. ”

Virgil stops, not quite sure what Logan is trying to insinuate. Was that referring to Virgil’s experience of Roman as an actor, a friend, or something else?

“Excuse me,” a voice comes over the PA system, cutting off Virgil from retorting. “Teachers, please command a presence in your classroom.”

There is a pause before the voice continues, “As many of you are aware, our theater department just wrapped up the Junior Senior show last weekend, Cinderella. Ms. Martin, the director, is here with some big announcements.”

“Well this is unprecedented,” comments Logan, loud enough for Virgil to hear. Virgil can feel his pulse skyrocket, adrenaline flooding the system. This can only mean something big. They wouldn’t announce publicly no nominations, right?

“Thank you, Principal Arthur,” the director’s high soprano voice said. “I am here to happily announce that this year’s show set a new school record for nominations, with a total of four nominations!”

“What?!”

“We have nominations in best costumes, best supporting actor in a musical lead actress in a musical, and best musical!” Ms. Martin rattled off quickly, her voice getting squeakier with each word. “The awards will be given out at the Gala in two weeks. Congrats to everyone on a job well done. Oh, and I need to meet with you all in the theater immediately. Thanks and congrats!”

Virgil doesn't remember standing up. All he knows is that he is looking down at Logan, still sitting in front of him with a smirk, “I guess the odds of nominations were pretty good.”

“We were nominated.” Virgil states, not quite sure he can believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

The teacher motions towards the door, “I believe your presence was requested in the theater, Virgil?”

“Right,” Virgil says as he picks up his backpack and hurries out the door. When he gets to the doorway, he sees fellow cast and crew members in the hallway, running and jumping, whooping with excitement. Virgil can’t tell if he wants to join in for a moment as he takes in what they said. The cast is nominated. Roman is nominated.

Roman. God, he would be so excited.

A cast member runs past him, “Come on, Virge! They’re waiting!”

Virgil takes off after the rest of the cast, joining in the growing group of theater kids as they get closer to the theater.

Once in the theater, he follows his fellow techies to the back of the theater as the cast fills the stage, just as they always did for full rehearsals. The whole room is loud with whoops of excitement and genuine joy. Someone hits the lights for the house, leaving the lights for the stage on from the drama class that had just been in there before the cast had taken over.

“Can I get a mic?” the director yells from the stage, hardly audible over the excitement. She’s a short woman, blending in easily to the small ocean of high school students. One of the sound kids finds a mic and runs it up to her. “Thanks, is this thing on?” the director asks.

“Someone get the spotlight!” shouts one of the actors.

“I’ll get it,” Virgil yells back. He honestly had missed being in the lighting booth for this show, having gotten his start in the technical side as a spotter. Quickly, Virgil scrambles up the ladder to the lighting booth tower. It takes him a second to turn the nob on the light to turn it on, his hands shaking from the excitement. Finally he gets it, turning on the spotlight and hitting the director.

“Ah, thank you,” the director calls. “Okay, quiet down. I know we’re excited, but I have a few things we need to cover before dismissal.”

The chattering continues until a “Quiet on stage!” is barked by a familiar voice with a demanding presence. Virgil’s eyes follow to the sound of the voice over the others and smiles at Roman. The cast quiets down at the request of their Prince.

“Thank you,” Ms. Martin says. “First of all, congratulations to everyone for everything you have done. We wouldn’t have gotten the Best Musical nomination without each and every one of you.

“As you are aware, the Gala is in two weeks. We have been asked to perform a song from the musical at the Gala. I would like to suggest we honor our fabulous leads by going with ‘Do I Love You’. Any objections?”

There’s silence before someone yells, “Give it up for our Prince and Princess, both nominated in their category!”

Virgil finds Alana in the crowd as people turn towards her and hits her with the spotlight quickly while flipping the other one on and spotting Roman too. Both of them laugh as they try to block the light to see who is spotting them.

“Let’s not forget our behind the scene’s nominations too,” Alana calls, finally giving up trying to see Virgil on the spot. “Talyn for that beautiful blue mammoth of a dress, as well as the rest of the costume department!”

Virgil finds Talyn in the group to spot them too and swinging the light from Alana to Talyn.

“And to our beautiful director for all of her hard work,” Roman shouts as the kids break into applause and cheers. Virgil swings Roman’s spot back to Ms. Martin who has tears in her eyes. “We wouldn’t have set the school record without her!”

A student starts blasting music through the sound system to the cheers of everyone in the theater. Virgil takes a deep breath as he watches the stage, all of the students are hugging one another and dancing in celebration. The room truly feels electric. Virgil can[t help but watch Roman as he make his way through the entire stage, congratulating everyone, before jumping off the stage and making his way to the tech crew, continuing the celebration with them. A few of the other cast members follow him, with a few techies climbing on the stage until it was just one sea of celebration. Virgil is happy to watch from his place on the tower, feeling part of the joy while being comfortably separated. He never wants this moment to end.

The bell rings, causing all of the students to scramble to find their discarded bags. Virgil watches, mesmerized by the movement below him.

“Okay, Alana and Roman, I need to see you first thing Monday so we can set a schedule to rehearse before the Gala,” Ms. Martin shouts into the mic and the students start to rush for the door. “Great job, everyone! I’ll let you know more details as I get them. Thanks and have a great weekend!”

Virgil sighs, resigning himself to miss the bus after seeing the rush for the door. He needs a minute to calm his shaking hands and falling from scaffolding was not something he plans to do. He sits on the ledge, swinging his legs and waving to the other techies as they head out of the theater.

Ms. Martin points at him from her spot on the stage, “Virgil, aren’t you going to miss the bus?”

“Yes, ma’am, but its okay,” he waves to her. “I just need a minute to wrap my head around it all, if that’s okay.”

“Well don’t take too long,” she calls back, her eyes drifting to the bottom of the tower where the sound equipment was kept. “I’ll be in my office doing paperwork. Holler if you need me?”

Virgil nods and watches her exit the stage. He takes a deep breath, continuing to swing his legs back and forth. The adrenaline in his system was finally starting to calm back to what Virgil would consider an acceptable level now that the others had left. Virgil pulls out his phone and checks the time. He curses under his breath when he does the math in his head; if he leaves now he might walk in before his parents. Maybe.

It's not that his parents are bad. They just don’t get Virgil, you know? They are always fighting over really dumb things, like his hoodie or his hair or why he wasn’t dating. After his coming out to Roman, Virgil just didn’t want to deal with questions his parents might ask. He could never tell them that he was gay.

Virgil rubs his eyes, telling himself to stop sitting here thinking and go home. He gets up on the platform and quickly hits a few buttons to turn back on the lights to the house and the stage lights out. He scrambles down the ladder when an unexpected voice says, “Hey, Virge.”

Startled, Virgil’s feet slip and he falls, “Shit!” He feels his body tense as he readies himself for the inevitable contact with the ground.

Instead, he is surprised again by a pair of arms catching him from the fall.

“I guess the promise was that I wouldn’t fall for you, not the other way around,” Roman’s amused voice came. Virgil feels his heart skip a beat having nothing to do with the fall he just experienced.

He opens his eyes and lets out a laugh of relief, “Roman, warn a guy next time, will ya?”

Roman winces at Virgil’s point, “Sorry. Still excited I guess.”

“Yeah, the cast did great,” Virgil responds as he places his feet on the floor. “Best Musical and all. I’m sure it wouldn’t have happened without you and Alana getting your own nominations.”

“That’s kind, but it was a group effort,” adds Roman as he helps Virgil get steady on his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil teases, “But is the great Roman being humble? I never thought I would see the day.”

“You wound me, sir,” Roman retorts, bumping Virgil with his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, humility is the least of my many redeeming qualities.”

“Oh, right, my apologies,” Virgil laughs as he rubs the back of his neck, “I forgot who I was talking to.”

Roman picks up Virgil’s backpack from where he had unceremoniously thrown it on the ground, dusting it off, “I wanted to ask, some of us were going to go get ice cream to celebrate. Logan and Patton are coming.”

“Oh,” Virgil responds. As soon as he says it, he wants to smack himself in the face. Really? All of that clever banter and now all you have is oh?

Roman extends his hand to Virgil, still holding the backpack in the other hand, “You up for it, or do you need to get home?”

Virgil swallows hard, trying to ignore the somersaults his stomach was doing, as he takes the offered hand. The simple touch is like flipping the switch in his head that made him worry and panic. For Roman, he has all the time in the world.

“Yeah, ice cream sounds nice.”

“Sweet,” Roman slings the backpack on his own shoulder, keeping a hold of Virgil’s hand.

~:-:~

Virgil stands backstage at the High School Theater Awards Gala, fidgeting with the sleeves on his borrowed-from-the-costume-department metallic purple jacket. Talyn had insisted he wear it due to how it matched his purple Converse he had insisted on wearing. He didn’t mind the look it gave him with his black dress pants and button down shirt, only it was a bit impractical given his task of helping Alana manage the blue sparkling dress that had earned the nomination. He wasn’t sure why it was him helping and not one of the other techies who had the job during the show, but he didn’t ask questions.

On stage they are announcing another award, a technical award. The school had won for best costume already, thanks to Talyn’s beautiful and practical designs. They had taken everything into account, such as Alana’s nervous fidgeting with the beading on the dress, a habit she often showed backstage as she prepared for this section of the show. The costume department had reinforced the beading to allow her to fuss without breaking it.

Virgil checks on the single flower he had placed in his pocket earlier, ensuring it is still okay. His breath catches at the sight of the red petals against the black lining of the jacket. He swallows hard and closes the jacket, nodding to himself. Now is not the time to think of that. Roman would win his award. He returns his attention to Alana, walking up to her spot in the wings.

Virgil bites at his thumb as he looks across the stage from his current place. In the other wing Roman sits on a box, staring at the floor, blankly. His body reads as tense, folded up on itself more than Virgil is used to from the man.

Roman had been acting weird the few days leading up to the Gala. He was more argumentative, more withdrawn, and refused to listen to reason. He insisted on using all of his free time and energy to work and rework the song for the Gala, ignoring their pleas for him to take care of himself. They had all tried to distract him by watching Disney movies or playing board games. Patton had baked cookies and brought him food whenever he refused to stop working. Logan had made a schedule to help Roman optimize his time to take care of himself.

Virgil, admittedly, didn’t really know what to do. He had spent most of his time just sitting with Roman as he worked through the song, not saying much except the occasional reassurance that Roman knew what he was doing. Virgil wanted to do more, but he just didn’t understand. The performance had nothing to do with who won the award. This performance was supposed to be for fun.

Yet Virgil is nervous too, isn’t he? Maybe because he was worried of what would happen if Roman lost the award. Or maybe for other reasons. Now wasn’t the time to worry about it.

He looks at Alana, acknowledging her own anxious energy as she messes with the reinforced beads, “You okay? You know you already won, right?”

Earlier they had announced her win. She had been crying in relief and excitement as they had been getting set up for the performance, but now she clearly seems on edge. All that was left out of their nominations were Roman for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical and Best musical.

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” Alana admits. She turns slightly to look at him without moving the dress, “Yeah. Can you do me a favor though, before I go on?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

She nods across the stage, “Go calm him down. He’s making me nervous looking that pale.”

Virgil snorts, “You say that like I haven’t been trying to all week. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Go talk to him?”

“You think I’m your best bet for talking?”

“Just try. You always have an effect on him. I think he needs you right now.”

Pushing the knot in his stomach down, Virgil agrees he has to try, “Alright. Just don’t move until you step on that stage, got it?”

Alana nods again, so Virgil slips around the backstage, avoiding all of the moving people and props, until he ends up behind Roman. Virgil stops and tries to think of something to make Roman laugh. He could just say hi, but that could scare the guy if he wasn’t careful.

He could say what he was thinking: that he would never get tired of Roman in the Prince costume. That Roman had nothing to worry about. That he would make them all understand why he was nominated in the first place. That everyone was so proud of him, that Virgil was so proud of him. That he was glad they got locked in that choir room. That he was glad they were friends. That he, maybe, wanted… No, it wasn’t time to worry about the gift in his pocket and the words he might end up saying.

Virgil takes a deep breath before choosing his words, “I was going to say something clever, but honestly I got nothing.”

Roman keeps staring absently at the floor, “Hey, Virge.”

A stagehand passes them, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder as he does so, “Two minutes, your highness.”

“Thank you two,” Roman mumbles as he stands up.

“I’m here, Ro. What do you need?” Virgil asks in a rush, wanting to help before it is too late.

Roman’s head snaps up to look at Virgil and the use of the nickname. Virgil swallows the lump in his throat as he realizes he had never actually said that name before, only sending it in group messages with Logan and Patton before. He isn’t sure if its okay or not with Roman.

Roman gives a small smile, “Honestly? You won’t hate me?”

“Not possible,” answers Virgil as he crouches down so that he can be eye level with Roman. “Whatever it is, I got it, promise.”

“Just… hold my hand?” asks the Prince in a small voice.

Virgil takes Roman’s hands in his own, his heart hammering hard inside him. He looks over the actor, not saying anything as Roman holds on and closes his eyes. Virgil can’t help but watch in awe as Roman takes deep breaths, seemingly breathing in confidence with each breath.

“One minute,” the stage hand comes back and informs them. “Mic is going live now.”

Roman stands, nodding, pulling Virgil with him, still holding his hand while he takes his position in the wing. Virgil can’t help but notice the almost electric feeling in his hand in Roman’s. He’d be lying if he didn’t say it was intoxicating, standing in the wings next to Roman Prince about to go on stage.

The music comes in under the MCs voices, helping to set the tone for the love song. Roman gives a final squeeze to Virgil’s hand before he lifts it up and kisses it softly, causing Virgil’s brain to go crazy with bells and alarms. Virgil reaches up and straightens the crown on Roman’s head before giving him the thumbs up and a smile.

Roman and Alana enter the stage and sing the song, “Do I Love You Because You’re Beautiful” like they were born singing it. They hit all of the notes, the staging is natural, and they both look absolutely stunning. Virgil just watches from his place in the wings, like he had every time the song was done for their show. He just adores how Roman sings the song, so full of meaning and emotion. He would never admit it, but it was his favorite moment in the whole show. He ignores the lump in his throat that forms when he realises its the last time he will watch them perform this song together.

They end the song to the roar of applause at the kiss. Roman and Alana take their bows before Roman escorts his princess off stage towards Virgil. The two of them are beaming, knowing that they nailed it. Virgil can’t help but beam with pride for the two of them.

Not saying anything, Roman lets go of Alana’s hand and takes Virgil’s. He doesn’t stop as he pulls Virgil through the crowded backstage, taking his mic and handing it to the techie waiting for it without breaking stride.

“Roman?” Virgil finally asks when he finds his voice. “Where are we going?”

“Need some air,” Roman answers breathlessly as he pushes on a door marked with an exit sign. “Come on.”

“Wait,” Virgil says as he stops. He takes off his shoe and places it in the doorway, preventing the door from closing completely behind them. “We don’t want to get locked out.”

Roman nods and walks a few steps away from the building into the alleyway, letting go of Virgil’s hand, “You’re always looking out for us.”

Virgil leans against the brick wall as he watches Roman pace in the alley, just trying to catch his breath and calm himself down. Roman’s hands are on his hips as he walks the nervous energy out, causing Virgil to grin before saying, “You did it, Roman. You guys killed it.”

Roman shakes his head, a smile spreading across his face, “Yeah? You think so?”

“Obviously,” Virgil adds as he crosses his arms to try and stop them from shaking. “They’d be crazy to not have you win your category. Anyone with eyes can see you deserve it.”

“That… means a lot, coming from you,” admits Roman.

“Uh, I’ve been trying to tell you that all week!”

Roman laughs as he approaches Virgil, staying on the bottom stair, “Well, you know, I never do listen.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

“Hey, Prince!” Alana’s voice comes as she leans her head out the doorway, working to put her earrings back in her ears. “Get your butt back in here. They’re getting ready to announce your category.”

“Coming,” Roman responds as Alana disappears back inside. Virgil grabs Roman’s hand as he starts to pass, “Ro, wait, I almost forgot.” He pulls out the single rose from his inside coat pocket and extends it to Roman, his hand shaking. “For good luck, not that you need it.”

Roman takes another step towards him, “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”

Before Virgil can say anything, Roman kisses Virgil softly, gently, yet electrifying. Virgil is caught off guard and tense for a moment before he relaxes into the embrace, closing his eyes and accepting the moment.

“Roman!” barks Alana.

Roman pulls back, causing Virgil to come back to reality, at the separation. “I’m sorry. I…” Roman mutters as he hurries past Virgil and heads inside before Virgil can say anything.

Virgil stands there, stunned for a moment as he tries to process what just happened. Roman Prince had just kissed him. And Virgil had wanted it to keep going. It's the most alive Virgil remembers feeling. He hears a commotion inside the theater and snaps back to reality. Roman.

Virgil grabs his shoe and heads into the theater, and hears the MC read all the nominees in Roman’s category. He starts running, sliding into the wing as they read off, “And the winner for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical goes to Roman Prince.”

Roman walks on stage, radiating at the announcement, waving to the crowd. Virgil knows Roman needs the validation from others when it comes to his creative work. And now he had it. Virgil joined the cheering as tears started filling his eyes. He can’t help the pride welling up inside of him for his friend.

Roman accepts the trophy and waves it in the air, signing thank you to the audience as the MCs start ushering him back towards the wings to keep the show going. Virgil isn’t thinking, he just starts moving towards Roman coming off stage. His Prince’s eyes find him, tears of joy shimmering, as Virgil offers him a hand and pulls him further off stage and out of the way.

“Virgil, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...”

Virgil leans in and kisses Roman to stop him from talking. Virgil is gentle, but pushes all of the things he hasn’t said to Roman into it. All of the longing, the pining, the quiet hoping. Roman melts into him, wrapping an arm around him to pull them closer together. Virgil pulls back and wipes away a tear that had fallen down Roman’s cheek with a soft smile. “Butterflies,” he says in response to Roman’s statement earlier. “You give me butterflies. Always.”

#sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #prinxiety fanfic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #roman prince #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #human au #theater kids #theater awards #kisses #homophonia mention #kiss #fall #awards #butterflies

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holidaywishes · 4 years

Text

today, tomorrow and the rest of our lives

part nine: today, tomorrow and the rest of our lives

Summary: It’s New Year’s Eve in New York City, which means it’s finally time for you and Freddie to get married

Warning: just some fluff

Author’s Note: I feel like this chapter is either going to be really long or really short and to the point. So, let’s take that journey together! Since this is the wedding chapter, (finally, I feel like I’ve been trying to write this chapter for wayyy too long,) I think the chapter might end up only being 10 chapters. Of course, my mood might change and it might end up being 13 chapters anyway. We’ll see! Hope you enjoy this little chapter and keep coming back for more 😜

masterlist

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“I’M GETTING MARRIED!” You screamed as you woke up on New Year’s Eve, “I’M GETTING MARRIED TODAY!!!!”

“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED TODAY!!” Lauren repeated as you ran down the hallway

“OH MY GOD!” You exclaimed

“OKAY OKAY RELAX,” she laughed, “take a breath, calm down. Eat something..”

“Eat something? No. I can’t eat anything, I’m too excited. There’s too much to do. I’m getting MARR--” she put her finger on your lips to stop you from repeating yourself, laughing at your excitement as she did so

“I know! Yes, we’ve established what today is but you need to eat before things start happening okay?”

“Where is Freddie?”

“He slept at Mitch’s last night remember?”

“Right. Can I call him?”

“Sure.. I don’t see why not” Lauren shrugged and you ran to grab your phone, stopping suddenly when there was a knock on the door

“Who’s that?” you asked

“I dunno...” she scoffed, walking toward the door while you stared out the hotel room window

“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!!” Amalie and Stephanie said when Lauren answered the door, “oh-- you’re.. where is she?” Stephanie asked as Lauren opened the door and gestured to the window

“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!!!” Stephanie repeated as your bridesmaids ran to you

“I KNOW!!! AHH!” you squealed as Lauren closed the door and made her way over to where you stood, “I’m so excited! I’m so nervous...”

“Don’t be nervous,” Lauren smiled, “you have no reason to be nervous”

“She’s right. Freddie will make sure everything runs according to plan,” Amalie added, “he wants it to be perfect for you”

“It’s so cute how much he loves you!” Stephanie cooed

“I was just gonna FaceTime h--” you started only to be interrupted by your sister

“Nuh-uh,” she chided, “you wanted to call him not FaceTime. You guys can’t see each other before the wedding...”

“It’s bad luck!” Steph agreed

“Fine..” you sighed reluctantly, taking your phone with you into the bedroom to call your fiancé, “Hey, my soon-to-be husband”

“Hey, soon-to-be-wife, how are you this morning?” Freddie’s voice was raspy from recently waking up but you could tell he was happy to hear from you

“We’re getting married today, Fred” you whispered with a big smile on your face

“I know” he whispered back

“How’s Vita?” you asked. Freddie said he would keep her with him in his hotel room so that you and the girls could gush and coo over the wedding stuff without having to worry about the baby

“She’s good. She’s still sleeping but she should be waking up soon, do you want to talk to her?”

“No, don’t wake her up. I don’t want to make her cranky” you giggled

“Good idea”

“You have her little flower girl dress?”

“Yes”

“You have everything you need for you and the guys?”

“Yes, baby, don’t worry. Everything is going to be perfect”

“Don’t jinx it!”

“Fred!” you heard a voice call to Freddie, “photographer’s here!”

“(Y/N)! Time for pictures!” Amalie called for the same thing

“Guess we have to say goodbye for now...” Freddie said and you frowned

“Only for a little while” you replied before telling him you loved him and hung up the phone. As you made your way back to your three bridesmaids, the photographer ran through the shots he was planning to take before the rest of your bridal party arrived. You felt a sudden surge of anxiety run through you before Oma and your mom walked through the door

“Where’s our beautiful girl? Liebling!” Oma said with her arms open wide

“Oma!” you exclaimed

“Darling, you’re getting married today!” Oma said, the girls giggled behind you

“I know” you smiled

“It’s time to get your pampering started” your mom said while the hair and makeup team set up

“Isn’t it beautiful here?” you asked everyone, “this hotel room, this hotel. This amazing city on New Year’s Eve. It’s so beautiful, don’t you think?”

“It is,” your wedding planner’s voice rang out as he walked through the door, “and the city will be even more beautiful once you get to your wedding venue. But in order for that to happen, you need to look like a bride. So, let’s get going!” Once Alannah finally showed up, it seemed like everything was happening in a frenzy -- each of your bridesmaids had a makeup artist and a hairstylist work on them while yours worked on you, the photographer snapping pictures from every angle for the perfect shot, your Oma drinking a mimosa before handing you one -- before it was finally time to make your way downstairs to get into the limo that would take you to the Theatre.

“Your dress is waiting for you at the Theatre, so you’ll change there,” the planner said, “let’s go, we have a schedule to keep!” You smiled tentatively, before patting down your jeans and the pockets of your coat to make sure you had everything you needed

“Don’t worry, doll,” Steph said, “you’ve got everything. In the little purse, remember!”

“Right!” you laughed, following the group to the elevator. When you finally got to the Theatre, you were amazed by what everyone had managed to do to transform it

“I know we talked about putting your names on the Marquee,” the planner said, “but, honestly, it felt a little tacky so we didn’t do that”

“Oh, no, I think that was the right choice. This is perfect,” you cooed, “better than anything I could’ve ever dreamed of.” You were in awe with every step you took and you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to be able to get married here

“Let’s get you into your dress so we can take a few pictures before the guys show up, yeah?” The planner said as he directed you to your dressing room

“Let’s do it!” you smiled, taking one last look at the lobby and the view of the city as snowflakes began to fall.

Freddie’s P.O.V.

There you stood, on the stage of the Kings Theatre with your friends and family sitting in the seats, all of you waiting for (Y/N) to meet you on stage. When the music changed, you trained your eyes to the doors and took a breath before your fiancée, soon-to-be wife, walked in. Mo and Alannah were first to walk in, then Amalie and Andrew, Seb and Stephanie and finally, Mitch and Lauren before Valdimar made his way to the front with the rings. Oma walked down the aisle with Vita, who picked up the flowers from the basket and tossed them down the aisle, earning little coos and laughs from the crowd. And then it was time for you to see your bride. The beaded tulle of her dress sparkled as the lights hit it and it was just as beautiful as her smile; You couldn’t take your eyes off her and you could tell that she was trying not to trip by the way she had trained her eyes on the ground. But she finally met your eyes when her dad gave her away

“Take good care of her” he said

“I will” you replied softly, before you and the Bridal party helped (Y/N) up onto the stage so she wouldn’t trip over her dress. As she stood in front of you, your heart began to race until you removed her veil from her face

“Hi” she whispered, finally meeting your eyes with hers

“Hi” you whispered back.

“Friends and Family, we’re brought together in the beautiful, historic Kings Theatre to witness a true moment of unconditional love between (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Frederik Andersen. Today, the two will become one”

“When two become one,” (Y/N) sang quietly to herself with a laugh before the officiant looked at her with a smile, “sorry. Please continue.” You squeezed her hand and she bit her lip and the officiant continued to speak

“...and so it is that (Y/N) and Frederik present themselves to be married today, surrounded by those they love most. You both look to a shared future that includes a richly lived life together…going out to restaurants, hanging out with family, relaxing at home in front of the TV, singing and dancing… Bride will do the singing, and Groom will do the dancing.” your friends and family laughed, sparking a smile to spread across (Y/N)’s face as well “The years will come and go… you won’t take each other for granted, you will laugh a lot, you will be the best parents you can be, you will grow older and wiser together. It’s a good story, and one we all hope to have of our own someday. Now, for the words you’ve really been waiting to say, and that we’ve waited to hear, but before we can hear those beautiful vows I know you two have cooked up, I need to hear your intent... to marry one another. Frederik, do you come here freely, and without reservation to give yourself to (Y/N) in marriage? If so, answer ‘I do.’”

“I do” you smiled as you continued to look at your beautiful bride

“(Y/N), do you come here freely, and without reservation to give yourself to Frederik in marriage? If so, answer ‘I do.’”

“I do!” she exclaimed

“Wonderful!” the officiant replied, a bright smile on his face as well, “having heard that it is your intention to marry each other. I now ask you to share your vows”

“(Y/N),” you spoke first, your voice shaky and you could feel your hands begin to sweat, “I’ve never been the most outspoken guy in a room so forgive me if I stumble over my words here.” She laughed softly, squeezing your hands to let you know she was there when you needed her, “every day I get to wake up next to you is a day I know I did something right. I can’t promise that I’ll never make a mistake or that my singing won’t be off key or that my dancing won’t embarrass you but I can promise to love, respect and cherish you everyday. I can promise that I will be the best father to our beautiful daughter and be more than just a husband to you. For as long as I know you, today, tomorrow and the rest of our lives, I will love you and I will forever and always be yours.” Her eyes were brimming with tears as she smiled at you

“My turn? Whew, okay, give me a second!” she joked, wiping away the tears that had escaped her eyes before smiling at you and taking a breath, “my Freddie... From the second I met you, I knew my life would never be the same. I’ve never known someone as sweet and strong and soft and protective as you. I remember our first date; you didn’t talk much, so I blabbered on to fill the silence, and I was convinced that I was never going to see you again but you walked me to my door, like the gentleman you are, and kissed me on the cheek,” another round of laughs from the group in the audience, “right?!” she exclaimed, “I thought I had screwed it up for sure. But then you said, and this I’ll never forget, ‘I could watch you talk all day.’ and right then and there. With those seven words, my life changed. I am so lucky to be the love you chose and to co-parent with you. I can’t promise that I won’t break into song whenever I get the chance or that I won’t change my outfit 20 times before we go out but I will love you until my dying day. I love you, so much.” She finished, a small tear escaping your eye as well as hers and you mouth ‘I love you, too’ and just like that, you were married! And now it was time to party.

As you and your now-husband made your way to the lobby, you were quickly pulled aside by your photography to get a few shots of the newly married couple.

“We’re married!” you whispered to Freddie as the photographer had the two of you pose with your foreheads together

“You’re now Mrs. Andersen” he whispered back, eliciting a small laugh from you that the photographer quickly tried to dismiss. He had the two of you pose in a few more locations before he took the bridal party aside so you and Freddie could say hello to the guests. “Hey, everything okay?” Freddie asked when he saw you alone, looking out the window

“Hey, babe,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to lips, “I just wanted to take in this view for a second. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” He laughed in response before wrapping his arms around you and watching the snow continue to fall onto the concrete streets.

“It’s beautiful” he whispered into your ear

“Do the newlyweds have time for their little girl?” Oma interrupted with a giggle

“Always” Freddie said as the two of you turned around to greet your grandparents who had held onto Vita for the entirety of the ceremony

“You look beautiful, sweetheart” Opa gushed

“Thank you, Opa” you blushed before turning your gaze to Freddie and Vita and you couldn’t help but stare

“Isn’t your mommy beautiful, little elske?” Freddie cooed

“What about daddy, kleine? Isn’t he handsome?” you cooed right back, letting her hand wrap around your finger and your grandparents laughed at you

“Oh yeah,” Oma sighed with a smile, “this one is not going to be without love, not for a minute.”

“We’ll see you three at the reception” Opa said before kissing your cheek and walking out with Oma

“Hey,” Freddie whispered in your ear, “I have pizza upstairs waiting for us.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Andersen?” you joked

“Always, Mrs. Andersen,” he laughed, “no but really. I knew we weren’t going to have a chance to actually eat anything. So, I got Auston to pick us up a pizza and put it in my dressing room.”

“You. are. a. prince,” you smiled, making you laugh at her words, “plus, Vita should probably eat as well. My parents said they’re gonna take her home early”

“Really? Aw that sucks. I mean, I guess it’s something we really didn’t think about. Sorry, little one,” he said to Vita, “come on, let’s head upstairs.” When it came time for everyone to ring in the New Year, meaning everyone had eaten, gotten pictures, gotten very very very drunk and danced to Cha Cha Slide one too many times, you and Freddie told everyone to run outside to catch a few of the fireworks.

“We know it’s going to be cold,” Freddie shouted to the slightly unruly crowd, “but we promise, it will be worth it!”

“And it will only be for a few seconds!” you added and people seemed to agree but you awarded that to the alcohol they had all consumed. Everyone began running outside while you and Freddie stayed back to have a few seconds alone together

“This year has been...” Freddie started, wrapping his arm around your waist while he continued the walk from the reception area to the outside of the Theatre

“A year” you finished, giggling at the only logical answer

“Yes. But you have been there for all of the hard times and the good times. And I don’t know how I would’ve got through any of it, without you.”

“Aww,” you cooed, clearly starting to feel the effects of the alcohol that you had drank earlier in the night, “I love you so much!”

“Let’s get out to the front,” he laughed, “I want to say goodbye to 2020 with you and our friends.” On your way out, you found yourself twirling in your dress, getting distracted by the sparkles that the twinkly lights in the Theatre captured with each step you took

“LOOK FRED!” you squealed, “OH MY GOD! MY DRESS IS SO PRETTY!”

“Alright, drunky,” he laughed, picking you up and carrying you out, fireman style, “let’s go.”

“Nice butt” you snickered, pinching his butt when you could reach it, earning a laugh from Fred before the two of you finally made it outside; just in time to join the countdown

“10... 9... 8... 7...” The group counted as Freddie put you down and held you close, “6... 5... 4...” Someone handed the two of you a glass of champagne and you joined in the last countdown

“3... 2... 1. HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Everyone yelled as fireworks began bursting over Brooklyn. It was a perfect end to a perfect night and the perfect beginning to the rest of your life with Freddie.

#Frederik Andersen #Freddie Andersen #Frederik Andersen imagine #Frederik Andersen series #Freddie Andersen imagine #Freddie Andersen series #masterlist #the other masterlist #this was longer than I thought it would be #i'm not mad at it #but sure it could've been shorter #it could've just ended after the vows #but it didn't #happy new year!

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honestsycrets · 5 years

Text

What’s Gotten Into You III: Even Still

❛ pairing | alfred the great x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | you have a choice: to tell alfred about his mother, or not to. it all depends: how selfish are you?

❛ warnings | nsfw, voyeurism, masturbation, pregnancy kink, sinfulness, adultery, female receiving, teasing, deception, religious themes, christian background, am i christianing right? likely not.

❛ sy’s notes | my gif. also, i couldn’t remember if it was Aelswith or Eahlswith. i’m sure someone will clock me on it.

What little Alfred knew, or did not know, of your relations with his mother, you were not sure. The pumping of liquid fear shot through your veins, crushing you as you rush to sit up. Alfred wills your motions down, his ringed hand motioning you down from your desperate state. That’s it, then.

“Come in, mother.” Alfred whispers, soft but firm.

Queen Judith comes in, arms swaying. She comes to a stop beside the bed, reaching out to settle a hand over your swollen belly. She catches the chills down your arms, with hawk eyes like hers, but otherwise scans you for wounds. Or her grandchild, whom she so anticipates the arrival of.

“What is it?” he asks.

She steps back, turning her hands against one another. The queen sighs, bringing such coldness into the room that you best hoped was left outside. You can’t tell what she thinks. You never could. She was a spider. When you had one limb, she had seven more behind the first to rely upon. But with her grandchild growing in your belly-- not any grandchild that is, Alfred’s-- you feel secure.

“It might be good practice for you to stay with her tonight. Losing a husband is difficult on the best of days. Moreso when you are with child,” she steps up to Alfred, and looking down to him, she caresses his cheek as if he was a small babe. King Alfred sighs, turning his arms over one another. He rarely took time to rest. Upon the back of the death of his brother, it would be hard for anyone to blame him, and yet-- he can.

“Aelswith?”

“I’ll care for her,” she says, hinting at deception as her hand drops to his shoulder, and then inevitably down her side. She spares you one last glance as she closes the door with a careful hand. Was she off to kill her? the question lingers there. You could excuse your sweet Aethelred’s death on divine intervention. But Aelswith’s was in your hands.

“I wonder at times how much she knows,” Alfred drops upon the bed. It creeks, singing its song, filling the cold and empty chambers of your room. He’s here, so close, and yet so far. You pull yourself behind him, bumping his back as he works with loosening his boots.

“More than you know,” you answer, a little sorry to say such things. True things. His head tilts, looking toward the English silk that covers your bed. Your words were built up with shame, knowing that she already knew. That she didn’t care. His breath comes in shaky exhales.

“Truly,” he completes his thought, chewing upon his lip when he turns to face you. You kneel before him like some peasant. “Go lay down. You shouldn’t be up in such a condition.”

“What of you?” you ask, running your finger tips over his shoulder.

“In my brother’s absence, I will have to reassign his princely work.” He pushes himself up, pacing around the table to Aethelred’s desk. He takes a seat there, looking through the scrolls of forgotten work. He unrolls the parchment and begins dry work, engrossed in a frenzy of work. You recline into your marital bed, tucking the pillow underneath your head.

For so much having changed, seemingly overnight, so much had not. The familiar scratch upon parchment you could not read, the occasional flit of Alfred’s eyes to yours, taking you in, his child in, his situation. It goes on like that for a long while. The candles began to burn low, rivulets of wax dripping down from the candletop.

Your hand wanders to the undercurve of your belly, caressing the soft fabric as you lay as if a Roman statue. Your hand shifts, tugging scratchy and offensive fabric over stomach and chest. You toss it to the floor-- effectively causing Alfred to raise his head. Perhaps he recalls what led you to this state, his touch. Caressing the sweetest of your spots and holding you down, allowing himself to sink around you, melding your body around his, pumping himself inside of you.

Alfred reaches for a few small battlements and units that serve as proxies that rest over Aethelred’s table. He lifts each one, examining the placement and reason behind each unit of calvary and infantry. Without looking up, he speaks.

“Do you normally distract Aethelred in such a way?” he whispers, making note of positioning himself.

By now your hand has abandoned Alfred’s child, soothing over your plumping hips, up toward your breasts. Despite his intended indifference, he is watching. Your nose turns over in the pillows of bird-feather, nuzzling into your long strands under your face. Your delicate hand trails over swollen nipple to swollen nipple, causing him to bend his head again. But he lacks those long, luscious locks of hair that once obscured his honest eyes. His brow furrows, and you can tell he’s distracted by such things.

The lack of an answer seems to exacerbate the issue. You’re wretched, and angelic, cursing him to sin when you softly sigh, grinding your nipple between thumb and index finger. It’s a game to you. All this-- a harsh, cruel game. A freshly made widow, and yet, your body cries out for your king who holds a unit of calvary so tight between his nimble fingers that it causes indentations in his skin.

“I’ll remind you that I am married,” Alfred says, as though it stopped such a greedy, needy king in the past. His true nature, the one you knew Alfred for, was the one that knew he should not have come. And yet, here he was again, his eyes inexorable, stricken, helpless against your skin. Alfred’s leg bounces over the stone floor, firm and insistent.

“And I am suddenly very unmarried,” you return with a hint of bitterness, prying your legs apart before him. The picture before him is defiant. He should have known better than to come, to grow the desire between his legs with your skin on display, drunkening him although he’s had nothing to drink. It’s going to happen again, he feels it, but he’s spent such time confessing his sins to god.

He never professed to be an honest man-- nor honest king. And yet, he wishes to be a humble husband. When he’s here, swelling underneath his trousers, his thoughts hard and deep, just reminding himself that she’s just… a little… too much for him. Alfred is getting frustrated now, watching your fingers creep toward your slit, illuminated by only the warm flicker of candles. Your face softens, lips part just so, pleasure rocking through you like a bolt of lightening sent down from Heaven.

You suddenly gasp, air filling your lungs, when you push your lips apart, fingers stroking and dancing, brimming your belly with excitement. He searches your face for an answer to his dilemma, and finds none, only unspoken pleads for him to take his place. Surges of conflicting thoughts fill his belly full, but he’s no less hungry when the piece in his hand clatters to the ground. His chair scratches over stone floors, pushing out before he stands.

“God,” he comes closer. “Why must you do this?”

Standing before the bed, he reaches out, enough to shift your legs apart. Your fingertips twiddle over your unfilled entrance, raking glossy desire through your lips, arching as your finger encircles your bud. He loosens his pants, cursing himself for his inability to hold himself back from your desire, tempting him to sin. Your eyes have flittered shut, flicking and arching your wrist in time with your sketchy breathing. Because you like it. And you like this. This power you know to have over him.

His darkened eyes follow your body, arching up into the palm that brings you pleasure. Soft moans slip from your lips, filling the room like sweet prayers woven with sinful lust. The wetness squishes under your fingers now dragging an orgasm closer when you stuff your fingers inside of your waiting body.

Alfred flicks his fist over his swollen length, and you know so by his raw noises, cut out by gasps. His rigid cock longs for something more than this. To fall inside of your body, claim you in beautiful thrusts, spill himself again. Because-- if you are already pregnant, what else could he do? His eyes waver from your hold, reminding himself of your condition, swollen and full of him. There’s a side of him, deeply dark with ill-intent, that delights in knowing he’s done it. That it wasn’t his brother’s child that clung to your womb.

Alfred mounts the bed, sagging with his weight, bringing his cock against your belly. All hesitation slips from his body, drawing his hips in smooth thrusts over your belly. Each thrust was punctuated, an ownership of every inch of your body, clashing with his obligation to Aelswith. His lips catch yours in messy kisses, ones that don’t truly care if your teeth knocked his or if his lips dragged off to the side, dragging in long lines down to your throat.

He draws himself down, knocking your hands apart so that he might slide himself against your plump pussy lips, not entering, no-- grinding, fingers weaving in your sticky ones, letting loose soft worship. Words fail into disjointed noises, strung together by longing for him. Whips of his cum paint your mound, smeared by his desperate shifting, smearing the cum into your body as he rid out his pleasure through choked gasps.

Snapping back, Alfred presses himself to you. But not to your stomach, to your ruined mound, drawing his tongue along his smeared seed. He groans, hot with sudden need to make you feel as he did. His tongue lathes over you, cleaning and loving you, as you hadn’t had. Your thighs nestle him close, caressing his short black cropped hair, every gasp and squelch of your pussy sends you spiraling into that pit of pleasure.

Soft and slick kisses push you closer, careening with hips undulating on his face, and bless your king-- but in this moment, he’s no king. He’s not even a prince, but that boy you fell in love with. You fall into white pleasure, snapping your eyes shut, trapping all breath tight as you fell into pleasure, cumming over his face. Moans vibrate over you, and you hold him there, desperate to keep him close as long as you can. When he at last surfaces, and your vision clears, you lurch your hand around his sweaty neck, using the other hand to wrench the chains of his tunic a little closer.

“Don’t. Please,” Alfred pleads with your name. They’ve gone over your head, and far above into the heavens, longing to taste his cum and yours as one. You drag his lips to yours, caress him softly, familiarly. What choice does he have but to meet your need for such a kiss, falling into you, mindful enough to catch his forearm to keep him from knocking into your belly. His eyes open, cherishing that sight of you, savouring the thought while you savour his sweetly soaked lips.

“--god,” he draws back, plopping upon his brother’s bed and makes himself decent. The thought of you swings like an axe, swinging wildly at his head. He swallows what he’s just done, yet again. “We cannot keep doing this.”

“I never asked for this,” you say with a hint of bitterness, cherishing his taste from your lips. Still, you turn away from him, knowing that he won’t reach to cradle you close as you always wanted. He’s torn up by obligation to his arranged marriage. Though he lays beside you, he feels a thousand years away. “You came to my bed while I slept. You impregnated me of jealousy.”

He knows that. He wishes he hadn’t.

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44 @readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @therealcalicali

#Alfred the Great x Reader #Alfred x Reader #Alfred/Reader #Alfred the Great/Reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #vikings/reader #vikings x reader

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the-fae-folk · 5 years

Text

Story Masterpost

Hey! This took a while to make. But here, as promised, is my story masterpost. I’ve organized some things so you can find them easier, though I’ll admit that “Beauty, Secrets, and Magic” is just the stuff I couldn’t really sort into a smaller category. Of the Fae Unaware Directions Come Running Water Distant Wars Wishes of the Sea In Order To See You Must... An Offer Those who say... Respect is Due An Exchange Cage Come to Us Ancient Wars The Age of Iron What are you? Immortal Hidden Among You First Music The Distant Days Count them with Letters Flower Wars Eyes? The Lost Ones We Fade Believing in Death Prices to pay Dance with the whole World Dreaming Lure *Click* Giants Asleep Fears of Darkness Bigger Problems Listen to the Giants Sweet Faerie Wine The Largest and Tiniest Decay and Dreaming Eyes and Earth Walking Mountains Battle Standard Gnaall Fictitious Dichotomy Faltering Heartbeats Among You Pixie Wings Unable to Perish Bridge trolls What is Fairy Ring? Terrible Wars Beautiful Dreams Kisses in the Night The Will of Trees Make no Mistake Have you Eaten? Beauty and Fashion Can you Calculate the Mind of the Fae The First Skies Do Fae Children Age at the Same Rate? A Dark Memory Black Dwarfs and Dark Futures The Conversation Vows of Love Ship of the Skies Reaching Hands The Little Folk The Prophet of Silvamune Damhán Alla Feasting Lost in the Deep Woods A way out? Faerie Dance Thrice Said is True Fools rush in The Deep Woods Welcome to the Deep Woods Places We Know Silence No Journey Will-o-the-Wisp Where are the Deep Woods? A Dreaming Memory Running Who Knows the Path? Unknown Footsteps Who Speaks? Go Home Whispers in the Mist Mossy Glades Old Gate An Echo of Footsteps Follow Me Tragic Ending The Way Forward is Still Barred Don’t Follow the Wisps Postern Never Know Waterfall When you Go Out Gold-Eyed Beast The Nightmare Step Lightly Bones Alone Golden Eyed Beast In Hiding Forget what comes Something Powerful Standstill Death Beware the Beast The Encounter Companion in the Cold Slumbering The Hunt Begins Again Well of Dreaming Light Screams in the Night Where is the Gold-Eyed Beast? Fear Something has Changed …3 …2 …1 The Crown of Shadow 7 Broken Mirrors Seven Seven Shattered Mirrors Places of Faerie A Faraway Place You The Places Between Distant Wars Buried beneath the Sand Wandering Blind The Lake A Flowered Ocean Exist? Or Not? Life’s Flow Door without a way Time Never Passes Here Only the Stories Remain Cracking Ice Fractal Prison Enough? All that remains is Dust Devastation of Dark Fire More of the Flowered Ocean Cliffs of Illithia and the Naiuruin Forests Beware the Wisps Stardew Deep Furnace Lanterns Lanterns On the River’s Edge The White Hound Do the Fae have Animals? An Old Lantern Lost Letters The Lament Fragment Silent Screams The Wait Together A Near Forgotten Letter Letter from a Brownie Tell a Story Lured Away From the Sea and Shore Warnings Never Free Don’t Stop Eat Not The Rule of Names Defiance Pretend Not To See Swamp Water Trust Me Do not Take Do Not I Seek A Warning

8 Tales at the Hearth’s Edge The Hill A tale of Three Gifts She and He A Chance Meeting The War (Coincidence?) The Girl and the Road Silver Charity A Tale of Autumn Strange Beings The One Who Grieves The Lady The Librarians Not Quite Human Dark Eyed Forge Fires Together the Light She danced upon the Earth Crows for Eyes Wings Aeon Circling A Laughing God Sssssss... Broken Tomb She danced in the Snow The Dragon in the Well What Became of Her... The Prisoner in the Dark She Knows Adventure A Firebird Imprisoned The Child Mine Spoken Before The Descent The Courts of Season The Autumn Days Great Sorrow In the darkest days of Winter The Winter Remains Awakening of Spring End of Summer Wine and Summertime Blustering Winds The Lord of Autumn The Winter Queen Frost The Autumn Court Winter Masque A Cold Truth The Winter Court Nearly Time The End of Winter The Lord of Springtime The Court of Spring Spring’s Song Lovers of Springtime Light after the Rain The Time you Need The Story of the One Who Grieves Nobody Answered ... It Comes Closer Before the Silver Blossoms A West Wind It is Time The End of Spring Other Courts A Courtly Vision A Constellation of Myth Court of Ashes Hosts of Myrkvatn Aiolion Tribes Court of Dawn Castle inside a Raindrop Order The Rivers of Athu The Sidhe The Valley of Ga’Maldor Empire of the Seven Blossoms Canyons of Mür ‘gra Crowns Long Ago Legends Key to Destiny The Second Key The Third Key Three KEYS? About the Cave Crown of Sunlight New Moon Summer’s End What do the Crowns look like? Court of Shadows Autumn to Winter Songs Seek Listen Unknown Follow A Dark Call Burning / Why is it burning? Forgotten Prisoner Chains Come to the Faeries Thorns and Dreaming I Dreamed I Walked Fernweh Stories Told Poetry Bluest Sky Blue Red Yellow Orange Loving Winter Fire and Bone Requiem of a Love Song Eye See You Green Sleep among the Bluebells Song of Stars Night Companion Dancing in the Forest Moon Waters Memory in Sepia Lilies Scream. Cry. Silence. Drifting Faerie Ring Count Them Carefully Fairy Ring Dance Other Tales The Pied Piper Apples for Eternity The Dam Is anyone there? Call to the Sea Warmth Midas Grove of Shadows Resting Place All Hallows Evening Tale The Great Tree Sister of Mine Wit and Words Bread and Circuses Forest and Sea in Sorrow Reflection of the Heart Part 1 The Boy, The Troll, and the Bridge Between Them. The Raven and the Stone Crow Houses and Homes Beauty, Secrets, and Magic Seed Rain Brings Life Such Dreams If Wishes The Ancient Magic Beginning or Ending? Dive Into Silent Unknowns Eternity Like Leaves Imagine you walk across the sand Power of the Moonlight Enchanted Trap Rage Confusion Gifts of Stone Longing for Other Selves Darkened Waves Hunt of the Owl Not You Forgotten. Fairy Tales Curse Ravens Come Look Sun Stars Autumn Reflections Drift Gold beneath Grey Union Incomparable Names Life’s Road Fire in the Heart A sort of Balance Beauty of a Rose Not what they seem Glamour Humanity’s Treasures Compliments Infinity Why must you reject happiness? A Sounding of Silence Winds of Change The Blessing of Indifference In Tears we Grow Beauty A Raindrop The Trouble With Masks Lunar Eclipse Fly Ahead Be Ready Ugliness and Beauty The Secret of Bridges Morning? Wasting Time Widdershins Equilibrium Snail at Home Is it enough? Seven Poisons A Nexus of Roads Silence with us In the Face of Silence Cycle of Burning A Sky full of Joy Cloistered Grove Choices Fly Butterfly Fly Blooming in Adversity Distant Endless Moors Sweet Berries A Dreaming Once Met Seas of Black Sky Heaven’s Peaks Together upon the Road Written in the Stars Stolen Wishes Anew Blooming to the Music Sing A New World Song of Stone Love is... Water to the Soul Eyes will Watch Sometimes its nice Explore Change in the Air Drowning in the Dark The Song Plays On Furnace of Creation A Gemstone Found Upon A Hill Have you? Sometimes the Tree Dies Hold my hand A Simple Magic Of Course New Fallen Snow Seedlings Sleeping Wheel Still Sleeping Snowdrops Enjoy the Spring Cloying Beauty Soft Silence Mystery of the Rose Just Be When We were Here Last Ship Swift River Broken Painful Awakenings The Story of a Butterfly Such Beauty Play On Strawberry Mother and Child Strange Places Beyond Black Suns The Shallow Sea A Foundation of Nothing Awake in the Darkness Endless Darkness Absolutus Infinitus Twilight to Dawn The Burning Light Ruins, Somewhere Quotes from the Writer Alpha Beta Gamma Delta Epsilon Zeta Eta Theta Iota Kappa Lambda Mu Nu Xi Omicron The Journey The Lonely Tree Consider the Stars First City Only the Future Left What makes a Monster? A Secret Place Not Far Off

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sweethazzababy · 5 years

Text

Not So Professional- Chapter 2

Plot: Y/N gets the job as Harry Styles’s personal assistant. Working for him, she deals with the ups and downs of his career ranging from difficult breakups to music celebrations and everything in between. How will her and Harry’s relationship develop?

CHAPTER 1

A/N: YOU. GUYS. It has been very long since I’ve posted, and I feel so bad for leaving everyone with just one chapter up. Life got in the way lol and I honestly lost inspiration to write. Recently, I’ve been wanting to and I had some of this written already. I can’t promise you I’ll update every week or something, but I want to develop this story. Thanks guys :)

P.S. I apologize for any typos...it’s 1 am as I’m finalizing and posting lmao

Chapter 2

Nervously typing each digit one by one, I anticipate the dreaded phone call with my mother. Her and I never really saw eye for an eye. We have completely different ways of viewing life, which always results in many arguments and pointless bickering. At the youthful age of 18, I had decided to move out after graduation and figure out life for myself. She of course, was absolutely livid. Ever since then, there’s been a lot of unspoken tension and distance. However, I miss her sometimes. She’s my mom, and although we have many differences I constantly wish we didn’t end things the way they ended those years ago. The only times I see her is for holidays, and every blue moon she’ll come to the city for lunch. Other than that, we don’t speak much at all.

But this news is something I have to tell her, especially since I’m going to be traveling the world assisting the world’s biggest heartthrob. Reluctantly, I take a breath and hold the phone up to my ear. Out of an anxious habit I tap my nails against the counter while rolling my ankle as my elbows rest on the granite. It rings a few times, and I start to pray she doesn’t answer. Until the ringing cuts and I hear a sigh.

“Y/N?” She sounds surprised. Shocked that I’m calling her at such a random time. My heart sinks at her tone and I realize how long it’s been. My mouth is dry and my mind is reeling, words jumbling in my head not knowing what to say back.

“Hi Mom. I-uh..I am calling um..because tomorrow there will be a uh, a big change.” I stumble, taking big gulps as I speak. My voice is trembling just a tad, and I know she can feel how nervous I am through the phone.

“What do you mean?” Her volume lowers, her voice timid. My fingers grasping my phone start to ache and I realize how tightly I’m holding it, knuckles turning white.

“I got offered um, a very, very large promotion… One I never expected and uh I was told today, but I’m leaving tomorrow… to London.” My rambling picks up as I speak, just wanting this conversation to be over. My eyes wander the room as I start biting my lip gently waiting for her response. I can tell she’s speechless, not knowing what to say.

“Oh wow…Y/N that’s, that’s amazing.” She breathlessly responds, a hint of pride in her tone. A small smile creeps onto my face, not believing this. She’s happy for me. Never in a million years did I think she would be proud of something I’ve done. She’s been holding a grudge ever since I left, ignoring every accomplishment I’ve had. But this time, she cares. And she’s proud. A few lone tears prick the corners of my eyes. Rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of my emotions, I wipe them away quickly.

“Thank you Mom…I’ll be assisting Harry Styles. I’ll be…traveling the world. This is something I have dreamed about.” I start getting more comfortable, telling her how excited I am.

The conversation continues on for only a few minutes, but my heart warms at the way it turned out. We said our goodbyes, she wished me luck and to send her pictures of the places I see. She finally sees that I’m successful and doing just fine on my own, even though I left her at such a young age. And that’s all I could have wanted from her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s about 6:00 now. I’m sitting on my bedroom floor with clothes and other miscellaneous objects scattered all around. Having to leave so last minute is incredibly stressful and I find myself not knowing whether to pack one item over another. Groaning in frustration I decide to get my Bluetooth speaker. Maybe playing some music will make this a little bit more enjoyable. As I’m scrolling through my lists of playlists on Spotify, a thought popped into my head. Rather than choosing one of my playlists I go to the search bar and type in “Harry Styles”.

Curiously scrolling through his 10 songs, I click on the song Only Angel. Immediately a choir blasts through my speaker and it’s almost like a sense of euphoria is washing over me. A little bit of piano comes into play making the beginning even more dreamy. As I’m getting used to the angelic sounds, all of the sudden a shriek of some sort interrupts. My heart feels like it’s about to break from my chest, and I jump from the unanticipated change of sound. What I thought would be a relaxing tune, turns into a rock song. When he starts singing my breath start to hitch in my throat. I’m quick to notice the rasp in his voice, like I’m wanting more and more as he sings so passionately within the first verse.

Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see That I'm still the only one who's been in love with me I'll guess I'll be getting you stuck in between my teeth And there's nothing I can do about it

The attitude radiating from his lyrics is oddly attractive. I’ll have to admit that this is a lot different than his One Direction stuff, and like it even more. It’s refreshing to see a former boyband member go in a different direction other than pop. It tells me he appreciates really good music that actually uses instruments. I continue to listen to the album as I pack and can’t help but fall in love with his music. Sign Of The Times is a tear jerker. Once the chorus hit me, I felt like I was frozen in time. The production, the raw emotion in his voice, his gorgeous vocals. It all hit me like a bus and the next thing you know, I have tears running down my cheeks.

But then I listened to From the Dining Table. Acoustics so soft and melancholy, his voice so low and quiet. The vulnerability and loneliness I felt from his lyrics took my heart and dropped it to the pit of my stomach. The hopefulness from the bridge as the melody and harmonies pick up that soon turned back into sadness as if all that hope vanished, left me absolutely breathless. The kind of pain he experienced, I hope he never has to go through again, oddly enough. His music makes me feel instantly connected to him, a power not many artists have. He’s an incredible musician, and I’m disappointed in myself for never realizing it earlier. I think back to the picture I was shown and my heart flutters again. With a voice and looks like that, let’s hope his personality is decent too.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Beep…beep…beep. My blaring iPhone alarm disrupts my sleep and my first instinct is to grab it and chuck it across the room so I can fall back into a slumber. I groggily turn over on my stomach shoving the pillow over my head, groaning hoping it would stop on its own as if it’s alive. Having enough of the disrupting noise making my ears bleed, I bring myself to roll on my side and grab my phone from my bedside table. While pressing the stop button I glance at the time. 7:00 AM. I know that it’s not super early, but on days I normally have off I developed a habit of sleeping in till 12. It’s like my body knows what day it is. My plane leaves at 1. I should leave my apartment by 11:45 to get to JFK and give myself some time before my plane boards. These thoughts are running through my head, as I’m trying to have some sort of plan for myself.

Mapping out my day in my head, I reluctantly get up and walk straight to the kitchen starting up my Keurig. Coffee is an absolute essential in the morning, or at any time for that matter. You don’t want to talk to me when I don’t have caffeine in my system. Luna comes trotting into the kitchen, her little legs moving at a fast pace giving me a bark good morning. Smiling, I pick her up in my arms and gently pet the top of her head as she licks my hand. My mom reluctantly agreed to take Luna while I’m away… to my surprise. It’s going to be hard not having her by my side like always.

After eating some breakfast and giving Luna her breakfast as well, I finish up the last of my packing. I throw on an oversized white sweater after my quick shower, feeling comfy for the long plane ride. I pair it with black leggings and throw on my black slip on Vans. Pulling my damp hair back into a French braid and putting on a little bit of makeup, I sigh realizing how soon I’ll be in a whole other country. At this point, it’s already 11:30. Before grabbing all of my bags, I give pick Luna up and cradle her into my arms. Holding her against me, I give a kiss to her head and I hug her a little too tight. My heart sinks at the fact that she has no clue what’s going on and she probably thinks I’ll be coming back after work like I usually do. I left a spare key for my mother so she’ll becoming by in an hour or so to pick her up. Opening my door, I give a last and longing look at my apartment and take a deep breath. Onto a new chapter in my life.

The airport is complete madness. I’ve always hated airports. The smells, the loud noises, people running to make it to their terminal while alsorunning into other people. Many times, I had to dodge myself from another person coming at me full force with a panic-stricken face. It’s about 12:45 so my plane could be boarding any minute. To occupy myself in the time I’ve been here I got myself another cup of coffee and read some magazines. There was an article about Harry Styles actually. Intrigued, I read it wanting to know more about the person I’m going to spend all of my time with. Something about a new fling. This boy is in the tabloids so much I wonder what’s true and what isn’t. No doubt, he’s a lady’s man.

Love on the Weekend, a song by John Mayer is playing through my headphones. The soothing tone of his voice and the calming melody helps keep me sane in the midst of such a fast-pace and crazy environment. Everyone else’s stress, stresses me out. As I’m reading through the magazine I hear the intercom notify us that my plane is now boarding. Grabbing all of my bags in my hands, I make my way onto the plane. London here I come.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sudden bump of the airplane wakes me, along with some woman shaking my shoulder to tell me we’ve landed. Squinting my eyes because of the brightness I take a look out my window and see it’s pitch black. Oh. Right. It’s about 1:30 in the morning now.

I make my way off the plane into the UK airport. Jeff mentioned something about a car service coming to pick me up to take me to a hotel. Standing in front of the terminal my eyes are in a frenzy as I frantically look for a sign, anything, to let me know who is here for me. After about a minute of searching, I see a sign that reads “Y/N, Y/L/N”. Letting out a sigh of relief I walk over and shake the man’s hand. I have never had my own personal car service before so I’m pretty star-struck by all of this.

“Good morning Ms. Y/L/N.” The kind man greets me with a pleasant and cheeky grin. I chuckle to myself realizing he said good morning. After all, it is 1am.

“Good morning to you do!” I laugh, feeling a sense of comfort which is good since I’m in a huge country by myself

After exchanging some small talk with my chauffer, we get into the vehicle. Completely forgetting how I’m in Europe, he opens the driver side door which happens to be on the right side rather than the left. Glancing out the window I try and see what’s outside, what London looks like. The blackness of the early morning is preventing me to see nearly anything though.

We finally pull up to the hotel, and I thank the driver while giving him a generous tip. This hotel is absolutely gorgeous. My eyes wander the room in awe. I walk inside with my bags and right away, a bell hop helps me out and gives me a cart to push everything. I walk up to the front desk and give them my name. Jeff also said he already booked about two weeks for me. I can’t be anymore grateful for everything he and his team have provided to make sure I’m comfortable. Eventually I’m going to use my savings and the money I make to pay for it myself and hopefully rent a small apartment here in London. I retrieve my room key and make my way up the elevator towards my room. After getting settled in, I lie in bed on my laptop. I received a few emails from Jeff informing me of the address and time I need to be at the office by. Seeing the time, I decide it’s probably a smart idea to get some sleep and turn off the light, close my eyes, and nervously await the next day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stepping foot out of the car, I take a look at the building in front me. It’s quite small, definitely not as big SONY back in the States. I was told this was a casual meeting, so I wore a pair of dark skinny jeans, a nice blouse that shows off a tiny bit of cleavage, and black heels. I tried my best to look good since I am meeting Harry today. I just can’t get his face out of my mind. The way he smirks, his dimples peeking through completely erasing the intimidating look only to make him seem absolutely adorable. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I tell myself that this is a job. Professional.

I walk into the building and meet up with Jeff. Finally meeting him in person, he has dark hair and dark eyes. Scruff on his chin and around his face forming a little bit of a beard. He has a youthful and relaxing glow to him, calming my nerves. There’s no need to feel so uptight

“Ahh finally I meet the famous Y/N!” he gives me a big cheery smile and pulls me into a hug. I let out a giggle and return his hug.

“I can’t believe I’m finally here…it’s so surreal.” I say breathlessly. He smirks, looking down at his feet and clasping his hands together.

“I know but trust me it’s an opportunity you wouldn’t want to miss.” He leads me down the hall and into a room with a few couches and a table. “I figured it would be a little bit more comfortable and casual to meet Harry in a place that isn’t a business room.” He explains to me, shrugging his shoulder.

I feel the sweat on my palms start to kick in and rub them along my jeans. The nerves start to settle in at the thought of meeting Harry. Jeff and I talk a little bit before all of the sudden there is a quick knock on the door. My heart feels like it’s beating outside of my chest, assuming Harry Styles is standing on the other side of that door.

“Yeah!” Jeff yells casually as he scrolls through his phone.

My eyes are peeled on the door when it opens, my teeth gently biting into my bottom lip. Harry walks in with that damn smirk on his face. He’s wearing a plain white t shirt, his tattoos running all along his left arm. My eyes try and keep up with all of them, trying to decipher each one. The swallows on his chest near his collarbones are peeking through the top. His pants are not what I expected from him. They’re black, high-waisted, and are extremely flowy and loose around his legs. I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want a pair, noticing how comfortable they look. He has a pair of black sunglasses on the top of his head, pushing back his locks in the front. Curls are peaking through near his neck, behind his ears. So endearing.

He’s even more lovely in person.

Then finally, he sets eyes on me. His blue-green irises meet with mine and I feel my breath leave my body for a split second. As he’s staring at me, I notice his eyes glance down at my top, setting on the cleavage I’ve shown. He bites his bottom lip as he looks at me, and I can’t help but blush and look down at my feet. This interaction only lasted about 2 seconds, but it felt like it was moving in slow motion. He strides over to me and puts his hand out for me to shake

“Hello. My name is Harry.” The deep and husky tone rumbles through his throat. He speaks at a slower pace and his eyes are even more mesmerizing close up. He gives me a little smile, dimples on full display, crinkles by the corners of his eyes. I grab his hand and return the shake, his palm engulfing my small one. The warmth radiating from his hand is a comfortable one, and it sends shivers down my spine. He has multiple rings on his fingers, something I find very attractive. After shaking hands, I immediately wipe my clammy hands against my legs once more.

“Hi. Y/N Y/L/N, your new personal assistant.” I say with a friendly tone, giving him a smile back. I tuck a loose strand behind my ear shyly. He takes note of it and gives me another smirk, chuckling to himself at my awkwardness.

“Here, have a seat while we chat a bit.” His British accent is a little more obvious this time around. Jeff tells us he has to take a few phone calls and leaves the room. Harry sits opposite of me, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. The metal of the rings are glistening in the light, catching my eye. He has a ring shaped as an H and one as an S right next to it. Peering my eyes away, I try not to make my curiosity too obvious. The fact that he has personalized rings like that, makes me wonder how much money he actually has. I can tell he noticed my gaze, a small smirk forming on his face. But he doesn’t acknowledge it and continues with the conversation. We already have a nonverbal understanding of each other and I just met him.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself Y/N. Obviously, we’re going to be workin’ with each other every day, so I figured I could get to know yeh now.” Harry rambles on, clearly unsure of what to say.

“Well, I-uh, I’m from New York City. I originally worked at the SONY headquarters, but obviously I’m not anymore.” Harry jokingly rolls his eyes and laughs at my comment. “Um, I have a dog named Luna, but my mother is taking care of her while I’m gone, and uh yeah.” I finish not really sure what else to say. I’m sure he can feel my awkwardness from here and my cheeks heat up at the thought. Why am I so embarrassing?

“As entertaining as that was, that’s not what I meant.” Harry replies cheekily, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Blushing, I glance down at my shoes wanting to avoid his gaze because of my embarrassment.

“What are some favorite things of yours? Maybe we’ll find common ground or somethin’. I don’t know…like, your favorite ice cream flavor, or favorite movie. Both very important questions f’me if I’m honest.” Harry explains with a playful tone and I struggle to find the answers before I respond. I just feel so overwhelmed at this entire situation, and I think he can feel it too. “I want to get to know Y/N. Not Y/N Y/L/N from SONY.”

Harry looks into my eyes and gives me a comforting smile. He gives off such a calm and collective vibe that suddenly makes me feel a little less overwhelmed. I appreciate that. He makes it easy to talk to him. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for my answer. I giggle at the unprofessional and light-hearted reality of the situation.

“My favorite ice cream would have to be either cookie dough or mint chocolate chip…” Before continuing on I observe his facial expressions. At the mention of cookie dough his eyes light up but right when I mention mint chocolate chip, he scrunches his nose in disgust which makes me giggle. “What, you don’t like mint chocolate chip?”

“Toothpaste doesn’t belong in ice cream.” He quickly insisted.

“I don’t think so either.”

“Then why do yeh like mint chip?” His confusion is so adorable, but I try and keep a straight face.

“Because… it doesn’t taste like toothpaste. Mint and chocolate is such a good combination, you’re really missing out.” The fact that we’re having a serious debate over ice cream is so funny to me, but it makes me excited to work with him.

“Nope, not at all.” He scrunches his nose once more, and my heart flutters at the cuteness. “Okay enough about ice cream, favorite movie?”

“My favorite movie? That’s such a hard one, I mean I love so many movies I can’t pick just one.”

“Sorry love, yeh gotta choose. For my sake.” He light-heartedly says,,

“If I had to choose, oh God this is so embarrassing…the Little Mermaid. It’s been my favorite since I was little and I idolized Ariel” I giggle at my ridiculous answer. I’ve always found it childish and a little bit embarrassing to say that my favorite movie is some animated Disney movie, but it was a huge part of my childhood and I still love it.

“That’s actually quite cute that’s your favorite movie. But idolizing a mermaid? How’d you react when yeh found out they aren’t real?” Harry amusingly banters back. He runs his hand through his hair, lifting his sunglasses as he does so only to put them back on his head. Such a simple gesture, but it has me staring at the way his fingers glide through his locks.

Easing back into a more comfortable position, he rests his arm stretching it along the top of the couch and lifting his leg to rest it across his thigh. His casual form makes me self-conscious about my professional appearance. Harry also seems to be enjoying our conversation, and that eases my subtle nerves. Butterflies form in the pit of my stomach at the sight of him.

“Really? Everyone always makes fun of me for it since I’m 24 and admitting my favorite movie of all time is a fucking princess movie.” Harry chuckles, crinkles by his eyes forming. “I also was devastated when my mom broke the news. 10 year old me was mourning over the fact that mermaids don’t exist. I felt like my whole world was crashing down.” I reply with a grin, a more playful tone in my voice. He lets out a burst of laughter, his smile so wide and contagious it makes me break into a bigger smile.

“I’m curious, what’s your favorite movie?” I switch the roles, asking him. Giving a deep sigh Harry answers.

“The Notebook or Love Actually.” He says hesitantly. My jaw drops a little bit, surprised. His cheeks start to turn a shade of dark pink, expecting my surprised reaction. He lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his hair again, I’m assuming it’s a nervous habit.

“That makes me feel a lot better about my answer.” I joke with a laugh. “I can’t believe the famous Harry Styles’ favorite movie is a rom-com.”

“What can I say, Ryan Gosling is just too irresistible.” He jokes back, his eyes sparkling as we speak. I roll my eyes at the comment, shaking my head at the silliness of the conversation. The ease of our banter doesn’t go unnoticed and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing. It’s like we’ve known each other for years.

“He is, isn’t he?” I sigh, the image of Ryan Gosling in my head. I never expected Harry to be as playful and amusing as he is. The tabloids make him out to be this intimidating popstar, but all I see is a normal guy with a witty attitude.

“Okay so as much as I love this conversation, I have to lay down the procedures and rules of the job.” Harry states, rolling his eyes. Already, I know he’s going to be pretty laid back about it. “I’m not gonna be one of those guys that order you around asking you to fetch me a coffee, or a muffin, or anything ridiculous like that. You’re a friend not an assistant. Just helping me along the way”

His sincerity is something I’m already admiring. Not to mention his complete and utter kindness. For someone so famous, I’m surprised at how humble he appears to be. Jeff walks in as we speak some more, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“How’s it going?” He asks, plopping down next to me. A small smirk is on his face, eyes wandering from me to Harry.

“Great! Should be fun.” Harry replies, but he keeps his eyes on me with a devilish smile, dimples appearing at each corner. Blushing I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

This is gonna be a ride.

A/N: Again, thank you for your patience! Let me know what you wanna see as I develop this story, I’m open to plot suggestions :) Also, let me know what you think in general, my DMs and requests are always open. Love you guys!!

If you haven’t yet, read Chapter 1 here

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