#sorry gonna answer this in the tags since it's such a loaded topic

[holyshit]

.

[coulsonlives]

PSA: CAT MEDICAL BILL SCAM

Please signal boost this if possible to inform your followers about these scams.

Earlier today, I got a message from the account nicole-loves-king, where they asked me to signal boost a post because their cat needed medical help. Here's the ask:

(And you can see the post in question here)

I looked at this post and was immediately put off because they were asking for people to send things through 'friends and family', which if you aren't aware, is a very insecure way to send someone funds using paypal, because you don't have the protections you would get if you used 'goods and services'. So scammers can make off w your money really easily.

I looked at their blog and scrolled down to the end, and I realized their blog was made today! And, all their posts (there weren't many posts to begin with lol) were of trending topics. I noted puss in boots, and welcome to nightvale among others. This is probably how they found me, because I reblogged some of that stuff recently.

Here's the time stamp from their oldest post (notice it says the time, not the date, which means the post was from today):

In their ask, they also tell you to answer privately. Hm, that seems sus. Why would someone not want you to publish a request for help?

So I have a policy where I don't signal boost posts from brand new blogs because, yknow, they could be scams. I posted this, and the scam account blocked me. They also blocked my friend when they replied to their ask and said their blog looked suspicious. I did some more digging, and I found a comment from someone that confirmed my suspicions:

This is in fact a scam!

@nicstonka is almost identical to the above account (nicole-loves-king). Look at the avatar, the pictures, and the paypal address, both accounts even have 'nic' (as in 'nicole') in the name. The only thing that is extremely different is the name of the cat! Yet both blogs also have the name of the cat in their url ('king' and 'tonka'). That should also be a red flag, because usually someone isn't gonna have the name of their pet in their url, only a few posts, and a signal boost for that exact (fake) pet.

Here's a side by side:

Looks at those paypal accounts: nbrunelle519, and nbrunelle391. Nope definitely not a scam /s

And the cat pictures side by side:

Tumblr's "scam" tag is actually full of these reports now, which you can see here. Or if there's nothing there anymore, click here and here for images.

And links to some older PSAs about other cat scams: 1 2 3

So if you see any blogs like this, where all they have is trending posts, it seems like they've copied and pasted an ask to you, or if they're asking you to send things via friends and family, vet them so so so carefully, because chances are you're walking into a scam. Don't just repost things without carefully checking! If you aren't in a position to check carefully, better safe than sorry: don't repost it! Don't let these scams spread.

Pro tip: If a blog is dash only, so you can't view their archive to see when their first post was made, and you're on desktop, you can just open the blog in its dashboard view, then click 'end' on your keyboard over and over until all their posts are loaded. Usually if it's a spam blog, you'll only need to click 'end' 5-6 times, sometimes a bit more, since they only post just enough times to give the appearance they're active, then there's absolutely nothing after that.

If you want more proof someone is a scammer, you can look at the currency they use their post (or the currency shown in the vet bill), then hover over the paypal link and inspect the part of the url that says 'country.x=AA'. The 'AA' is the abbreviation for the country your money is going to! If that country doesn't match the country of the currency shown in the post, it's a scam! Example: someone's post says '$' for USD/CAD dollars, but the country in their paypal link is 'PH', which stands for Philippines, where they use Philippine pesos, not dollars!

Also keep in mind that these are not bots! There is a real person behind these accounts. They have replied to people who wanted to confirm they were real, but their intentions are still to scam you, they just know it looks better if they reply.

Stay safe!!

Edit:

Updating this post to announce the scammer's made more blogs, and they're probably gonna keep doing it! Here's the list so far. This isn't up to date btw, go to @scamarchive and check their pinned post for the most recent detected blogs

turncoatrune, starlightdisc, xxmy, wxnt, eeyore-pg, coatedpeanbean, starrypanelstars, panelstars, scyllostyle, the-nonbinary-witch, aash-aash, leechness, ash-aahs, commandobutch, lovely-pages, pagefive-to-six, reconnecteed, five-and-fourty, stepsapphic, farmer-butch0, health-pages, turnersapphic, lxve, march-pls-be-good, emberful, imse7en, kassidymaygemz, kassidymaydream, dreamingkassidy, kasdream, live-march, confusedskulll, march-lives, criticaltuesday, quicksilvah, wrldy, quicksilveey, the-stucked-pan, flurrbum, o345, nxce, thls, hokkairi, sykdykee, furrtasticbu, bumfurry, supsense, wickdart, the90sbest

Keep in mind you may not receive an ask like the above ones. You may get something simpler like this, instead:

Most of these are cats, but there's been dogs and even people too.

If you wanna get even more info on all these accounts, there's an archive of this scammer's pinned posts and asks here, so you can see at a glance how similar they all are. You can also see a comprehensive list of scammer red flags specifically for tumblr here!

And lastly, you can report the scams using 'report something else' > 'unlawful uses or content' > 'phishing'

[honeytae]

I can’t wait to create more memories with you.

hi my loves! so this is a super fluffy little piece about jungkook and his s/o moving in together - it starts out on moving day and there’s a little flashback to when the topic of moving in together was first brought up :) it’s overall just really cute idk i hope you guys like it <3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 2.8k

Slowly turning the handle to enter your apartment, you tried your best to mentally prepare yourself for what you would inevitably see. That didn’t seem to work, though, since it felt like an absolute sucker-punch to the gut. 

The space looked brand new; a completely blank canvas for its next tenants.

Walking into the empty apartment you used to call your own now felt heavy instead of homey. The path to your bedroom felt routine, but slightly shaken with the absence of all your things. Photos of your family no longer occupied the walls, that little throw rug you’d picked out for the summer had been cleaned off the floor, and the various vases of flowers your boyfriend surprised you with were no longer kept front and center on the table against the wall. 

And even though those items were still in existence, even though everything was still intact and far from gone, it still made your heart clench a bit in your chest that they would no longer be here.

Rounding the corner to enter your bedroom, you leaned your shoulder against the door frame for a moment, admiring the pristine openness of your room in its empty state. You couldn’t recall it ever feeling so big.

Heaving a deep sigh, you let your legs carry your body over to the bay window, taking a seat on the ledge to peer out at the view one last time.

At the sound of Jungkook calling your name, you glanced back to the doorway of your bedroom, staring at your boyfriend as he tipped his head at your unreadable expression.

Although he’d been lifting boxes all throughout the morning and afternoon, somehow he barely looked strained. In fact, he was still annoyingly attractive. He had his grown out hair tossed back into a bun (with one of your hair ties), and he was wearing plain black shorts hidden beneath one of his many oversized t-shirts.

How he could make it all look so good, you had no idea.

“Hi.” You said, the man wordlessly approaching you with a run of his palms down his thighs, crossing the room in only a few long strides to get to your swinging legs.

“I didn’t expect to find you in here. You okay?” He asked, his brows pulled together as he took a seat beside you.

Taking a stray strand of your hair between his fingers, he pushed it back from your face, subtly analyzing the emotions written into your features with dancing pupils.

Immediately wanting to ease him, you leaned forward, pursing your lips underneath his jawline before letting your chin rest on his shoulder. 

Wrinkling your nose at the odor rising from his t-shirt, you tilted your head slightly to escape the smell, unbeknownst to Jungkook.

“You’re sweaty.” You observed, the man craning his neck to look down at you, comically raising his brows at your bluntness.

“I’ve been working!” He defended himself, making you chuckle a bit before picking your head up to smile at him.

“I know you have.” You said appreciatively, leaning forward to press your lips to his when he subtly puckered them out to you.

“Saying your goodbyes?” He offered in explanation to your presence in the apartment, having already successfully gathered every last box there was to take.

You laughed at that, nodding a bit in response.

“In a way.” You shrugged, letting your temple fall on his bicep with a sigh. Shifting your eyes down to your leg as Jungkook grabbed ahold of your thigh, you smiled as he lifted and draped it over his own thigh, drumming his pointer fingers on your muscle.

Feeling his lips purse against the top of your head, you let your eyes fall shut, the distant sound of birds outside the screened window behind you letting you zone out into a much more peaceful space than your mind had been in previously.

It was the only serene moment you’d had today. From movers bustling in and out of your apartment, your mom coming to help you label and sort all your boxes, your neighbors poking their heads in to the chaos to finally nose their way into seeing the layout of your place in comparison to theirs; it had been a lot.

“Are you gonna miss it here?” 

Peeling your eyes open at Jungkook’s sudden question, you lifted your head to properly look at him, curiosity evident in the slight widening of his eyes.

“Hm. The memories it holds, more than anything.” You answered, watching as he nodded in understanding. “I never liked the kitchen layout.” You added as an afterthought, causing the man to burst into giggles before shaking his head at you.

“I don’t think the kitchen was too bad. Although I love our kitchen.” He grinned at the emphasis he could officially put on the word, you sharing the same reaction at the phrase. Our kitchen. Our new apartment.

“I’m so excited.” You all but squealed, the man chuckling as you squeezed him tighter to you in your excitement.

“Me too.” He said, smile slightly closing his eyes as his face creased with the strength of his happiness.

“Remember how nervous you were when you first brought up moving in together?” You wondered, peeking over at the closet across the room that had started it all.

“I do.” He chuckled, making you smile as your brain took you back to the event that had taken place only a few months prior, in this very room.

“Hey.”

Looking up from the heap of clean clothes at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you had eyed a pouty Jungkook, raising your eyebrows at his expression as his eyes briefly fixed on the clothes before focusing back on your face as he shuffled into your bedroom. 

The tone and facial expression that Jungkook greeted you with had your eyes widened slightly, examining his approaching stature, his eyes squinted at you accusingly.

“Hi.” You responded, laying Jungkook’s clean boxers on your thigh to straighten the fabric before you creased it.

“Are you hiding something from me?” He asked, causing you to tip your head in confusion as you stared back at him, bottom lip jutted out slightly. 

“Not that I know of, no.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows raised at that, walking further into the bedroom to approach where you sat on the mattress folding a fresh load of clean clothes. 

You watched as his eyes searched the pile, sighing dejectedly before turning back toward the closet to rummage through it some more. 

“What are you up to?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions stalling only a bit when he picked up on the annoyed tone you used at his messing up of the rack of clothes in there. 

“I’m looking for my hoodie.” He explained his actions, causing you to roll your eyes behind his back. 

Jungkook seemed to have an emotional attachment to each and every one of his hoodies, even though he had hundreds to speak of. Every time you borrowed one, he tracked you down and made you give it back. 

It was never in a mean way; he only wanted his stuff returned, and you understood that. But at a certain point, it was just annoying. 

“Which one are you looking for?” 

“It’s the black one with the blue flames on the hood.” He recalled, scanning the row of clothes for the design before grunting in disapproval upon coming up empty-handed. 

Shaking your head, you sighed as you diverted your eyes back to the clothes awaiting folding. You could still hear the man rummaging through the plethora of hung items over your music, pressing your lips together in slight annoyance at the stubborn man. 

The closet in your bedroom was now a fifty-fifty split of your clothes and Jungkook’s. You couldn’t recall when he had started keeping clothes there; you suppose it just happened naturally as he spent more and more time with you. 

In fact, you were going on two years. You had picked up his habits and him some of yours, you knew all his little quirks and vice versa. Including his necessity for keeping all his precious hoodies in check. 

“Why must you fret about each and every one of your hoodies' temporary absences?” You sighed, the man mumbling an “ouch” as something fell out onto his foot. 

“Because I know someone,” he looked back to you for emphasis, “likes to steal them and then I never get them back. I swear you’re renting a storage locker for my hoodies just so I can’t find them here.” 

At his dramatics, you merely sighed again, going back to folding your t-shirt before you paused, looking up to stare at the back of his head. 

Thinking back, you could picture the black hoodie in a heap on his bedroom floor the other day, tossed aside after some activities between you two and obviously forgotten about by your boyfriend. 

“Did you check your place?” You asked, Jungkook’s actions pausing at your words before he slowly spun around to you. 

His face was plagued with guilt, cheeks full in a different kind of pout than the bratty one he’d greeted with as his sweet doe eyes came out to play. 

“Ugh, sorry.” He said, cheeks heated before he made his way over to you, landing on the mattress with his head resting on your thigh. 

You chuckled at the embarrassed pout on his face as he nestled his head into your leg, staring up at you with a ‘hmph.’

“I just can’t seem to keep track of what’s at mine or yours.” He explained, you nodding with a fond smile as you brushed hair back from his face. 

“I know. You just get so damn protective over those hoodies.” You teased, the man scrunching his nose at your cooing tone. 

“It is really difficult to keep track of what is where.” He sighed, looking up at you with a gleam in his eye that told you he was thinking something he wasn’t saying. 

“It is. What’s going on in here, baby?” You tapped your pointer finger against the crown of his head, the man smiling shyly as he grabbed your hand in his. 

“Why don’t we,” he trailed off, hoping you’d get his hint so he didn’t have to come out and actually say it. When you only stared at him in response, he sighed, shaking his head to negate what he’d been saying causing you to grab his wrist with a pout.

“Why don’t we what?” You asked, jutting your bottom lip out at the disappointed look on your boyfriends face, smoothing your thumb over the corner of his mouth to ease his frown. 

“Well, you know,” he shrugged, “since it’s so hard going back and forth between each other’s places,” he trailed off, groaning when you only smiled back at him, eyebrows raised in amusement as you waited for him to continue. 

The look on your face told him you knew. The gleam in your eye told him you knew exactly what he was trying to articulate. 

“Baby,” He groaned, realizing you were messing with him as you pulled begging eyes down at him. He removed his hand from yours, pulling it away with a pout as you chuckled at his reaction.

“What, Kook? What’s on your mind?” You continued playing dumb, wanting to drag the words you’ve been waiting so long to hear out from the man. 

“C’mon, why are you making me say it if you already know?” He whined, you giggling as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Because I want to hear it from you. And I like seeing you squirm.” You smirked, the man scoffing underneath you as he recaptured your hand in his own. 

“Baby, my sweet angel, the brightest star in the entire universe-“ 

“Jungkook!” You laughed, lightly squeezing his hand as you grinned down at him, his teeth shining up at you as he shyly blushed at the words in his brain. 

“Can we move in together?”

“Hm,” you hummed, the man’s eyes bulging as he slightly panicked beneath you, “give me some good reasons to.” You smirked again, your boyfriend gasping at your words before he took control, flipping you over to hover above your frame as you squealed at the sudden action. 

“You brat.” He leaned his forehead down to yours, effectively silencing you with a kiss to your lips, your fingers tickling at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“For one,” he started, “you wouldn’t have to hear me complaining about my missing hoodies anymore. I can make a mean cup of tea, I’m really good at laundry, I-”

You cut the man off with a press of your lips to his, silencing him with a muffled noise as his hand squeezed at your hip. 

“You don’t have to give me any reasons.” You mumbled against his lips, feeling them curl into a small smile as he made a noise of delighted surprise. He knew you were only teasing, but he couldn’t believe you hadn’t dragged it out longer. 

“Really?” He grinned, causing you to giggle beneath him out of sheer fondness.

“Yeah, I’ll move in with you.” 

“Really, really?” He grinned, his doe eyes sparkling at you as you nodded to confirm, laughing at the man’s goofy repetition of the question you’d already answered. 

“So, we’re actually doing this? We’re moving in together?” He raised his eyebrows, face melting into a grin as you brushed his hair back from his forehead. 

“I think we’re ready, don’t you?” You smiled, the look of absolute happiness on your boyfriends face almost making you tear up as he all but hugged you to his frame. 

“I know we’re ready, baby.” He nodded, kissing you again as you both continued smiling like idiots. 

“Wait, how do we do this?” You asked, Jungkook furrowing his brows as he pondered your question.

“Huh. I don’t know.” He chuckled, you giggling along with him before sighing in thought. 

“Do we want to look for a new apartment altogether?” You wondered aloud, Jungkook bouncing his head back and forth in thought, hair moving with his head. 

“We could. Do you really want to leave here, though?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise when you shrugged in response, raising your hand to cup his cheek lovingly.

“I don’t care where I live as long as you’re with me. What about your place?” You offered, Jungkook mirroring your earlier response with a quirk of his shoulders up to his face. 

“You’re my home.” He put simply, laughing when your bottom lip jutted into a pout, pressing kisses over your face as your eyes filled with water out of pure adoration for the man. 

At the memory, you felt your eyes water again, looking up at Jungkook with a pout. Your boyfriend, wrinkling his nose at your expression, poked at your bottom lip, tutting his tongue at you.

“What happened to not caring where you lived as long as I’m with you?” He teased, squeezing your shoulder with a smile.

“I still feel that way, Kookie.” You assured him with a grin, taking his hand as he wiggled his fingers out to you.

“Good. We’re going to create so many more memories in our new home, I promise.” He said, baring his teeth to you again as he felt you squeeze your fingers around his hand.

“I know. I can’t wait to create more memories with you.” You sighed dreamily, leaning in for another chaste kiss on the man’s tempting pout. 

“So,” he leaned his forehead against yours, “are you feeling ready to leave now?” 

His words were soft, but they weren’t spoken with tentativeness. There was obvious excitement in his tone, an emotion that had you wanting to spring off your bay window and never look back. 

“Let’s go.” You smiled, coming to a stand as Jungkook remained seated, grinning at you in amusement at your sudden change in attitude about leaving this place. 

“Alright, boss.” 

With a grunt, he came to his feet, never letting go of your hand as you made your final stroll through the apartment together. 

Passing through the years’ worth of memories within the walls, you both took a silent few steps before pausing in the entryway, giving the place one last glance before meeting each others eyes with small, matching smiles.

Turning the handle to your front door for the last time, you let the latch slide closed like you had so many times before, tick-tick tacking as it came to a secure shut.

Shutting the door behind you, simultaneously opening a new one. 

[spacedikut]

starstruck ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary:  “Can I request some age gap Spencer x reader. Maybe he’s nervous about approaching her for a relationship bc she’s younger, but he’s so goofy for her it’s he’s in love obvious. Pretty pls 🥺💕” 5222 words

a/n: i didn’t specify ages cause i wasn’t sure what people would be comfortable with so i just mentioned an age gap and leave the rest up to you!! i would happily date someone twice my age but i also have daddy issues so :)

masterlist

The day has finally arrived.

Mollie can call you a nerd all she wants, but you know the second she lays eyes on Derek Morgan or Emily Prentiss she’ll change her tune.

This event has been in the university’s calendar since the beginning of the semester. At least two members of the FBI Behavioural Analysis Unit were promised to give a talk about their department, even taking you through a solved case like an interactive documentary, to encourage students to consider joining the academy post-graduation. There was whispers they’d even stick around after to answer some questions.

Your other friend, Jen, the one that understands your excitement, wrote your names down for tickets immediately. You’ve had a countdown on your phone ever since.

“They’ve announced a last-minute guest,” She beams, just as giddy as you. You’re wasting time at the coffee house near the auditorium, waiting for Mollie to arrive.

“Oh, really? Who?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

You almost drop your cookie in shock and stare at her, pupils blown.

“You’re a big fan?” She smirks.

As nonchalantly as you can, you lean back in your chair, “I’m a fan of his work, yes.”

“Oh, his work?”

“Don’t start.”

“I bet you love his work.”

“He’s well-versed and his papers are super interesting-“

“His papers are super interesting-“

“You are a child.”

Just then, Mollie appears, checking her watch. You wish you could kiss her in thanks for saving you from the teasing that would likely never end. “We’re gonna be late for your morbid seminar if you two don’t stop bickering.”

Jen downs the rest of her drink, you shove the last of the cookie in your mouth. Mollie watches your excitement in amusement – your heart starts pumping, whole body buzzing, the same nervousness you felt when you were a preteen right before your first ever One Direction concert. It’s the kind of nervousness that makes your palms sweaty.

Is it evolution or devolution to go from sweating over One Direction to sweating over FBI profilers?

+++

The seminar goes on for an hour, including the questions people ask throughout. It’s everything you could’ve asked for, entertaining and so, so informative and although you weren’t considering joining the FBI before, suddenly it’s all you can think about. Guest speakers have that affect, don’t they? They make you wonder if you should drastically change everything you’ve been planning.

Even Mollie, who you had to threaten to tag along, ended up enjoying herself. “Maybe I learnt a thing or two,” She’d said, rolling her eyes playfully.

You and your friends are some of the last to leave. There’s quite the bustling outside, which you assume is just post-seminar chatter, but you and Jen falter in your steps when you see the exact profilers that had been onstage several minutes ago in front of you, happily interacting and talking to fellow students.

“Oh, man,” Jen whispers, her and Mollie making eye contact across you. “I have to see if I can talk to Emily.”

Mollie encourages her with a frantic, “Go! Go!” while you’re rooted in place. Mollie jabs you with a pointed nail, “You in there, Y/N? I’m sure you have loads of questions for them-“

You stutter and shake your head, “N-no. I’m good. You can try and hit on Derek, if you want.”

You give a half-attempt at a smile, barely lifting the corners of your lips. Mollie recognises that look. She wants to stay with you, check you’re not too overwhelmed, but you shoo her away and send her towards Derek. You breathe a sigh of relief – you’ve been friends with her long enough that she knows when you need space.

There’s something about seeing people you admire so abruptly that totally throws you for a loop. All you had prepared for was seeing them from afar and subsequently talking about it forever, but nothing beyond that. In some circumstances, it’d be a pleasant surprise, but for someone that struggles around strangers and especially around people as admirable as profilers, you are not mentally prepared for this and have therefore shut down.

But then you see him.

He’s shuffling in place in the corner of the room, close to a large potted plant like it’s his only friend. He’s nibbling his lip as his eyes flutter around, never staying somewhere for longer than a second, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Why is no one talking to him? He’s Spencer Reid.

There’s a couple of people surrounding Emily, fully entranced by whatever story she’s relaying, another few people around Derek, chortling at a joke he just made. Spencer glances between them and their audiences, and you can’t help but wonder why he isn’t right next to them, chatting away, too.

Does he not want to talk to anyone?

You should talk to him.

No. He probably wants to be alone.

Or what if he doesn’t and no one else is talking to him which means you can have a one-on-one conversation? What about that?

Are you insane?

…

You have to talk to him.

Before you can change your mind, you’re approaching him with a tight grip on the handle of your bag, pushing it higher up your shoulder. He spots you and makes eye contact just as you stop in front of him, and you notice he momentarily tightens his grip on his satchel.

Was this a bad idea?

“Hi,” You breathe, “I’m Y/N. A big fan.”

His eyes widen a fraction, which you don’t understand because why else would you be here, but he smiles nonetheless, “Hi, I’m, uh, Spencer Reid.”

“I know.”

“Yes, you know. That makes sense, because you were in the seminar. I saw you.”

Now you’re shocked. For as long as you can remember you never sit in the centre of a room, where most attention seems to go, so how did he-

“I-I always scan the room I’m in its.. it’s not a creepy thing, I swear. I’m not creepy.”

A laugh escapes you at that, making him visibly relax. “I don’t think you’re creepy. There was just.. a lot of people in there, so I’m surprised you remember my face.” You shrug.

I couldn’t forget such a beautiful face.

You don’t know what happens, but Spencer suddenly tenses up. His back straightens and he looks alarm, stiff.

Did he just think that? What.. why did he think that?

You wonder if you’ve said something wrong, so you try to change the topic.

“I-I have a question, if you don’t mind answering.”

Spencer nods with an of course, and when the question rolls off your tongue, his mind is still reeling from subconsciously calling you beautiful in his head. It’s not untrue, but it feels.. inappropriate. He doesn’t know why. But you are beautiful.

As he scans your face, now much closer than in the auditorium, he realises yeah, you are incredibly beautiful.

You wave a hand in front of his face, “Doctor Reid?”

“Sorry, yes, sorry. What are you studying?”

There’s a light in your eyes that Spencer recognises when you say, “Psychology.”

“Thought so.”

“You probably talk to a lot of psychology students. I-um. I almost went to Caltech,” Spencer raises an eyebrow, "After I read your dissertation, it really inspired me to look into it – your dissertation is incredible, by the way.”

Spencer smiles bashfully, a futile attempt to not allow the grin to overtake his face, and thanks you, “I appreciate it. Actually, I was sixteen when I wrote it.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Your eyes widen, “You’re insane! You’re amazing!”

The praise bursts from you, and his blushing face makes you oddly proud. On the other hand, Spencer feels like you’ve set him alight, his blood pumping loudly in his ears, as he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your smile.

He desperately needs to change the topic.

“To answer your question…”

Derek notices you two interacting across the room. Mollie sees him looking and hums, “Oh, that’s Y/N, my best friend. She really likes Spencer.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “Looks like he really likes her.”

“Don’t tell her that. She’ll collapse.”

They both watch you for a second, Spencer flailing his arms as he explains, you eagerly adding to his rambling, asking a question here and exclaiming some kind of encouragement there. It’s sweet, Derek thinks.

“Hey..” Mollie begins, a scheming look in her eye, “We’re planning to hang out in the campus bar later. It’s open to all and the drinks are cheap. If you and Emily happen to find yourselves looking for something to do and you drag Spencer along.. I’m sure Y/N would like it.”

“I like the way you think,” Derek says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

+++

“She’s getting hit on. Again.” You giggle, gesturing for Jen to turn around and witness Mollie get your drinks paid for by a random guy.

She’s always been a people person – it’s saved you hundreds on nights out.

All Jen does is glance over her shoulder, scoff, then turn her sceptical eyes to you.

“I saw you and Spencer Reid.” She says, twinkling eyes. She’s trying not to look smug.

“I almost proposed to him.” You joke, taking your drink from Mollie with a mumbled thanks.

“Oh, I bet you did,” She laughs, “You two looked sooo good together.”

“Alright,” You slide a shot to each girl, “I know you’re making fun of me, but I’m taking that compliment and cherishing it. Spencer Reid is cute, what of it?!”

You clink the shot glasses with your friends and down them, all wincing at the taste and giggling at Jen when she takes a gulp of her cocktail to wash away the taste of straight vodka.

“How did talking to Derek and Emily go?”

And then Jen starts chattering away.

You miss the bar door opening behind you, But Mollie notices. She’s been watching the door since they got here, conveniently choosing the table with the best view, just in case some profilers decided to stop by.

Derek catches Mollie’s eye and winks.

“Well I never,” Mollie fakes shock, “Look who just walked through the doors.”

You turn and choke on your drink. Emily and Derek look relax, like they’re home, but Spencer?

He looks just like he did earlier: like there’s a million places he’d rather be.

He’s lost the blazer he was wearing earlier, leaving him in a fitted purple shirt with a matching tie. With the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, you can see his firm hands and the silver watch that rests on his wrist – is it possible for a watch to be sexy? Or maybe it’s just cause he’s sexy?

That shot must be getting to you.

“What the hell are they doing here?” You hiss, a sharp whisper piercing the air as you turn and (terribly) try to hide your face.

But Spencer’s seen you. He spotted you the moment they came in – he recognised your clothes and your hair – and the second he did he turned right back around to exit the bar. Derek’s arm stopped him at his chest, like he does to unsubs, forcefully turning him around and laughing when Spencer tensed up.

“What, Reid? Scared of a pretty girl?” Derek teases, much like he’d been doing since he spoke to you earlier.

“I am scared of college girls, yes. Last time I was in a college bar I was twelve and downed shots of apple juice.”

“What?!” Both Emily and Derek stop short, looks of disbelief at the revelation. “You’ve never mentioned that.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“We,” Derek places his hands on Spencer’s shoulders, directing him to your table, “Are just gonna have a few drinks and talk to a few people, and then you’re gonna explain that apple juice story in explicit detail- hey ladies!”

Jen and Mollie look overjoyed at the new company, while you stare rigidly with distinctive what the fuck eyes.

“Would you mind if we joined you?” Emily asks, with a sparkling grin that no one could say no to.

“Of course not,” Jen grins, like it’s the most obvious answer.

The empty seat next to you is taken by Spencer (Derek discreetly shoves him) but right before he’s firmly placed on the stool, Emily calls out, “Spence, why don’t you get us some drinks? You still owe us after you lost that game of gin..”

“I didn’t lose.” Spencer huffs indignantly, “You cheated.”

Despite his grunts, he stands to make his way to the bar, but not before-

“Y/N!” Mollie beams, “It’s your turn to get the round, if you’d be so kind.”

You know that look on her face. You hate her, you realise, but you also love her because being alone with Spencer sends a thrill through you.

Alone with Spencer. What the hell are you supposed to say to him?

You follow him to the bar. He leans against it with an awkward smile.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey.”

“It’s uh.. it’s been a long time since we’ve seen eachother.” It’s a half attempt at a joke, followed by instant regret. But then you giggle and everything feels right in the world, even Spencer’s sucky joke.

“It has been a while, Doctor Reid.” You say. The bartender approaches, takes your orders, then you turn to Spencer, “What brings you to a college bar, of all places?”

“Well,” Spencer glances over your shoulder to your table. He makes eye contact with every single person there, all watching you two interact, and they all sharply turn and try to play it off like they’ve been talking casually. Spencer’s brows furrow a little. “Derek said the drinks are cheap and our hotel is only a couple blocks away. I don’t know, maybe Derek likes college girls.”

You laugh again, and Spencer has to take a second to realise you’re not laughing at him but at what he said about Derek. “Yeah, Derek seems like a real ladies man.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.” Spencer grins, “We once timed him to see how long it would take to get a girls number and he did it in five minutes. And he said he was having a bad day.”

The drinks are placed in front of you. Neither of you notice.

You unconsciously lean closer, saying, “Have you timed it to see how long it takes for a girl to approach him? That’s gotta be, like, maybe ten minutes?”

“Eight minutes and twenty-three seconds.”

“Well damn. Has he always been so…” A hand gestures in the air, looking for the word.

“Promiscuous?”

“I was gonna say free.”

“Free?” Spencer giggles, “That’s very nice of you.”

You shrug, “I don’t judge.” Spencer agrees, and it slips out, “What about you?”

You wish you could shove the words back in your mouth. Even more so when his expression changes. You can’t entirely make out what it is, but even in the dimly lit bar you can see the flush of heat that spreads through his cheeks to his ears.

“Are you asking me if I’m free with the ladies?” He murmurs, suppressing a grin.

You give an awkward laugh, wondering if you’ve overstepped a boundary, “Yeah. But that’s kinda weird to ask, so-“

“I’m so popular with the ladies it puts Derek to shame.”

You can’t hide your surprise. “What? Really?”

Spencer caves. “No. Is it that hard to believe I’m a ladies man?”

“Compared to Derek? Yes.”

Spencer scoffs.

+++

“As adorable as they are, it’s been thirty minutes.” Emily sighs. “I want my drink.”

“They’re bonding,” Jen sends a wistful look, “I’m so proud.”

“I’m guessing Y/N isn’t the most social either?” Derek asks, proudly watching you interact.

“She’s the best, just a little shy sometimes.” She smiles at you, even though you can’t see, “She’s an idiot, but our idiot, you know?”

Both Emily and Derek laugh airily, nodding with a, “Yeah, we know.”

At once, three phones vibrate throughout the bar – Emily, Derek and Spencer. They’re instantly filled with disappointment; Derek can’t watch Spencer attempt to flirt with a girl he’s obviously interested in, Emily still hasn’t got a drink, and Spencer has to leave you and he can’t think of anything worse.

He’s clearly hesitant when he looks at his phone. How does he say goodbye? Does he ask for your number? Would that be weird? That would be weird.

“Uhh…”

You channel every ounce of liquid courage you have in your body and offer, “Would it be weird if I gave you my number? Just.. for anything. Anything at all.”

Spencer nods, a gentle look in his eyes and a smile on his face, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You mumble an alright, accepting Spencer’s phone and creating a new contact for yourself.

Please text me. You think. Please text me.

+++

He doesn’t text.

It’s been a week. A week. You know how cases are, some take longer than others and some are solved in literal hours, but it’s been a week, Spencer goddamn Reid, so why haven’t you texted me.

That’s when the doubt creeps in. Your friends keep telling you he’ll text, that he’s just busy (“He’s an FBI agent, Y/N. If you start dating you’re gonna have to get used to lapses in contact.” To which you’re too distracted choking at the mention of you two dating), but you can’t help but wonder if he took your number simply so he could leave quicker. He had a case to get to, after all. He had people to save.

Now you feel guilty. You forced your number on him, didn’t you? Oh God, he hates you. He hates you and you forced your number on him and he hasn’t texted you because he’s filing a restraining order against you because he hates you.

Mollie tells you you need a nap.

+++

Spencer spends the time on the jet back from the case staring at your number. He has it memorised, of course, and has had it memorised from the first time he read it, of course, but he can’t bring himself to do anything with it.

All he’s done is change your contact picture from the standard first letter of your name to a cute picture of a frog Garcia sent him. It reminds him of you.

Derek lowers his headphones, “You texted her yet, Pretty Boy?”

“Huh? Uh, no. I don’t think I will.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer shrugs, locking his phone and placing it face down. “I don’t think anything would come from it.”

“Kid,” Derek leans forward, eyebrows furrowed, “You two talked for well over thirty minutes in the middle of a college bar about God knows what. Maybe I’m easy to impress, but that seemed pretty special to me.”

“How is talking in a college bar worth anything?”

“Because you’re Reid, who, most of the time, has to be physically dragged into a bar. You hate talking to strangers about anything other than work. Y/N? A stranger. What did you two talk about?”

“We talked about you a little.”

“Uhuh. About how good I am at my job?”

“God, no,” Spencer scrunches his nose, “We talked about your charm with the ladies.”

Derek falls back in his chair and scoffs, “I’m flattered, but that doesn’t sound like work-talk to me. So you’re comfortable with her. I saw you laughing, so she makes you laugh, too. Sounds pretty great to me.”

Spencer stares. Derek’s right, but..

“So what is it, Reid?”

Spencer licks his lips. “Do you think she’s too young for me?”

Derek rarely looks taken aback, but he does now, “Too young?”

“She’s in college. I’m-I’m-“

“A legal adult. As is she.”

Spencer slumps. “A 2014 Current Population Survey found the average difference for a heterosexual couple is two-point-three years, with the man older than the woman. Even if you double that, that’s still less than me and Y/N-“

“Four years isn’t a lot, Spence,”

“You just.. you don’t think it’s weird?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

Derek’s conviction gives Spencer some reassurance, but he can’t help himself when he thinks that.. maybe.. you’ll find him boring. Most people seem to, with all his statistics and figures and facts, but with the added element of you living it up at college.. how could he compete?

“I think you’re worrying over nothing, Reid. You haven’t even texted her, and you’re already worrying about stuff like age gaps?” Derek crosses his hands and looks at Spencer with determination, “She gave you her number. She initiated it. She knows who you are, so she knows how old you are and it doesn’t seem to make her uncomfortable. So, why should it make you?”

Spencer just grunts.

“Are you worried people will say things?”

“I guess.”

“People always say things. You know that better than anyone. So screw ‘em.”

Spencer feels a smile creep onto his face.

And Derek relaxes. He’s planted the seeds, that Spencer is fretting over nothing, now all he’s got to do is wait for Spencer to let it sink in and allow the flowers to bloom and, next thing you know, Spencer’s gonna have himself the perfect girlfriend.

And Derek will take too much credit for it.

+++

“Heeeeeeeeey my precious Doctor…”

Garcia looks like her hand was caught in the cookie jar.

Spencer’s back straightens. “What did you do?”

She looks embarrassed, fiddling with the fluffy pen in her hand. She smiles awkwardly. “Derek may have told me about a pretty little college student that captured your heart, and then he told me you also haven’t texted her yet, so I did a little digging and…”

“You cyber-stalked Y/N?” Emily asks, casually. JJ seems unphased at the discussion. Does everyone in the office know about you?

“I did. I’m guilty. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.” She’s speaking a mile a minute.

Emily spares Spencer a glance, “Did you find anything?”

“Well…”

Concern fills Spencer. “Did something happen?”

“I just found some stuff she’d probably only tell a close friend and I feel really bad about it.” Her shoulders are by her ears as she tries to fold in on herself out of guilt, “But other than that she’s a genuinely sweet girl who volunteers at pet shelters and the college library in her free time and we have really similar music tastes so I think we’d make great friends.”

They all look to Spencer, waiting for his reaction. What? Is he supposed to be surprised that you’re the epitome of perfect? He’s not. He studied you the entire time you spoke.

“She’s also written several incredible papers on child development that I think are revolutionary and I totally emailed them to you because I think you should read them. She’s also a genius.”

Spencer’s hand twitches. He ignores the sudden need to check his email.

It’s silent as they just stare at him. He doesn’t say anything and tries not to react, but he does. They notice how his eyes flicker to his phone, how his leg fidgets, the longing in his eyes.

Emily brushes her hair back calmly and asks, “Hey, Pen, when does Y/N work at the college library?”

Penelope doesn’t catch on at first, casually replying, “Oh, basically every day from five pm onwards. They’re a twenty-four hour library and she combines working and studying.” When she sees Emily pointedly look at Spencer, she goes ohhh.

“Good to know,” Emily nods, “Good to know.”

+++

Spencer finds himself at the college library that night.

He wants to say it was an accident, or that he just happens to know there’s a special edition of a specific book here, but he’d be lying. He read your papers between reports, and found himself having a deep appreciation for the way you write – he wants to ready everything you’ve ever written. Every essay, every note, every formal and informal piece of work you’ve ever done.

He’s already fallen in love with the way you write. He doesn’t think he’s far from falling in love with you.

He wanders around the lower floor of the library. It’s impressive, he must admit, and he’s disappointed in himself for not visiting earlier. There’s students everywhere, but he notices some other people mixed in too – professors, businesspeople, as well as parents with their children.

He feels a little less weird for creeping around now.

Not that’s he’s creeping. He’s just.. there. To see a certain someone under the guise of looking for a book.

He moseys for a while, from the fiction section to the non-fiction to comics to autobiographies. You’re nowhere to be found – not between the rows of books, not working on any of the desks, not at the centre reception desk.

Until you’re suddenly behind him.

“Spencer?”

He jumps, looking up from the book he’s reading. Your voice is as calming and smooth as always.

“Y/N. Hi.”

“Hi,” Your brows are furrowed, but you’re not disappointed by the unexpected visitor. “What are you doing here?”

He lifts the book he’s holding, an Arthur Conan Doyle, giving a light lipped smile. “I’m just looking. I didn’t realise the college library was so plentiful – did you know the oldest library in the world dates from the seventh century BC?”

“I do, actually.” You point to a poster behind him, which displays that exact fact, “I thought dotting facts around the library would be interesting for the kids. They seem to like them.”

“Learning in young children is socially mediated, so good quality learning environments outside of their schools is crucial for children’s development. So, in a way, you’re enriching their lives beyond understanding.”

You’re flattered at his somewhat far-fetched attempt at complimenting you. It makes your heart flutter.

Why didn’t you contact me, you dimwit?

You open your mouth to ask another question, ask if there’s something he needs help finding, when he beats you to it.

With a firm grip, he slams the book he’s reading shut and says, “I’m lying.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t come here to.. look around. I came here to see you.”

“Oh.”

Spencer doesn’t know what to make of that. You haven’t awkwardly looked away, or stepped back to increase the distance between you. That means something good, right?

“You didn’t text me, so I assumed you weren’t interested.” Your brows twitch, and you back-pedal, “Unless you purposely didn’t text me because you actually weren’t interested and you might be here to see me but for something book-related rather than me-related and I’ve totally humiliated myself.”

“No, no. You’re right. You’re right.” He fiddles with the book in shame, “I should’ve texted you. I just didn’t know what to say and.. Well, it’s stupid.”

Your head jerks a little to the side, something he’s noticed you do a lot, looking patient and too pretty for him to handle. “I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

Spencer thinks back to his conversation with Derek, specifically the reminder that you gave him your number which means you initiated this so yes, you are interested in him.

It’s just.. when he looks at you, he struggles to believe it a little. You’re breath-taking.  

“I’m worried I’ll bore you.” He starts light, easing you into what’s been troubling him. He’s emboldened by the fact you’re clearly frustrated he didn’t text you.

You give him a look of horror, “The first time we met I told you I loved your dissertation on geographic regression. I definitely do not think you’re anything anywhere near boring.”

“Okay,” He nods, “What about our ages?”

You’re confused. “What about it?”

Spencer mirrors your expression. “It doesn’t.. bother you?”

“Does it.. bother you?”

Usually, answering a question with a question is a sign of deflection, a sign of hiding something. However he doesn’t know why, but Spencer trusts you with his life. Maybe not his life. Maybe his heart.

“Does that silence mean yes?”

He shakes his head, “No. It doesn’t bother me. I just worry that, you know, college years are the so-called best years of your life and I don’t want you to regret being with me, someone older than you, and resent me for it, or something-“

“I think you’re getting way in your head, Spence.” You laugh a little, “We haven’t gone on a single date and you’ve convinced yourself of so much already. For the record, no, your age doesn’t bother me in the slightest. It never has and I doubt it ever will. I think you’re the most fascinating and interesting person on this planet, and if anyone is getting bored with anyone I’m pretty confident it’ll be you getting sick of me. And,” You take a breath, “I think I’m old enough to know what I want, who I want, and what I want is you. If you want me, too.”

Spencer shoves the book back into the bookshelf with a satisfying sound, then turns and quickly places a kiss onto your cheek. It’s completely unexpected and, quite frankly, not something you’d expect from Doctor Reid, but you blush and there’s a definite red colour to Spencer’s cheeks, too.

“I will never, ever, get sick of you.” He says, voice small but firm. “But I don’t want you to regret being with me. Promise me you won’t.”

You give him a look that tells him you think he’s ridiculous. “I promise that I won’t regret being with you. I’d like us to last as long as possible, if I can be picky.”

“I’d like that, too.” He murmurs. The thought of you wanting him for as long as possible almost sends him into a frenzy. He wants to kiss you all over.

You stand close and talk quietly for a while, a little more discussion on a possible date that weekend and a constant stream of compliments from you to Spencer and vice versa, before you realise the time.

“I should probably go. I have a paper to finish.” You smile sadly, a tiny pout forming.

“I understand. Do you think I could read it? When you’re done?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Do you know how terrifying the idea of the Spencer Reid reading my work is? But yes, anything for you.”

Anything for you. Are you trying to kill him?

You turn to leave, refusing to admit how sad leaving Spencer makes you feel, when you stop, “One more thing.”

Spencer hums. He’s not fully paying attention, praying to whatever Gods exist that killers take a break on the weekend so he can take you out on the sweetest date.

“If age is a sore area for you,” There’s mirth in your eyes and Spencer prepares himself, “Does that mean the nickname old man is off the table?”

His lips purse and move towards his nose as he narrows his eyes, giving you a look of faux annoyance, “I am not an old man.”

“Sounds like you’re sensitive, old man.”

As you walk away, you jokingly blow him a kiss to add insult to injury. His pretend glare lasts until your back is turned and he feels his gaze softening to something akin to love.

Spencer thins if the rest of his life is this, you teasing him with that twinkle in your eye and smile on your face, then life is truly the most beautiful thing.

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Forty-Seven, “You Save Me”

*Not my gif*

Clickable Links:

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Hecky Playlist

- Read on Wattpad

Word Count: 9.1k words

Warnings: Mentions of hospital care and sensitive topics

Music Inspo: To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra (click to listen)

                                          SNEAKYYYYY PEEK

That’s not even the worst of it, no, it’s not. The honey on his lips soaks mine with its sweetness, but it’s a feat in itself as I feel for the hundredth time the fear of never getting to kiss him again, or to hug him, or feel him against me, or to hear his voice. Like it so easily can, it shakes me to my core, and sends me jumping into his arms. 

"There are far, far better things ahead than anything we leave behind."

- C. S. Lewis

+

“Yer sure this’ll work?”

“Yep.” 

“Positive? Ya can’t be havin’ any doubts now,” I continue, raising my eyebrows at her. 

“Yes, Harry. God, it’s just checkers, not a bloody court case,” she giggles, picking up a red piece and scooting it forward. 

“I dunno, I don’t take competition lightly, bug.” 

“We know,” she returns in a scoff, but then it falls into a frown when I jump over her piece, stealing one of her players. 

“No fair,” she sighs, brow collapsing in annoyance as she sits back into the bed. 

“Don’t be a sore loser now.” 

“I’m not. Please, can we be done? I’m tired.” 

“Jus’ sayin’ that ‘cuz yer losin’, are you?” I tease and she shakes her head, rubbing at her eyes. If that wasn’t her tell-tale sign for being sleepy, the way her eyes flutter closed when I stroke a hand through her hair definitely is. 

“‘Kay, li’l one, we’ll carry on with our checkers game later. You get some rest, ya need it. Ya need yer strength fer P.T. ya have in an hour,” I tell her, turning around with the wooden board in my hands that I set on the sofa. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Okay,” she yawns, her voice followed by the electronic whirring of the hospital bed moving, or rather, the head of it relaxing. “You aren’t leaving me, are you?”

“What?” I question, turning around to find her eyes waiting for me. It confuses my heart how wildly she searches for me in a room, eyes almost always on me, no matter where I am - far or near. “Jus’ gonna go getta bite t’ eat and talk t’ Skye, hadda question fer her.” 

“Oh,” Becks exhales, her cracked rose lips pushing out. “I don’t want you to leave.” 

“‘m only goin’ downstairs fer a few, bug. Won’t be long . . promise. Here, ya want some lip balm? Yer lips look sumthin’ painful.” 

“You’re looking at my lips instead of answering my question, Harry,” she pouts, putting on the entire show now with the pouting lips and squashed up face. 

“Put that pout away, li’l miss,” I insist with a wag of my finger. “Jus’ noticed yer lips are chapped, ‘s all.” 

“Sure, you did.” 

“Go t’ sleep already. I thought you said yer tired?” I jest with a cock of my head, removing the cap to the lip balm before spreading it across her puckered lips. “There we go. Now, get some sleep.” 

“But what if I have a nightmare and you’re not here . . again?” 

A sigh runs away from me without my permission, “‘ll only be a mo’, Becks.” 

“But, Harry-.” 

“But, what? Stop worryin’, you’ll be fine, love. Kristi will be here if ya need anythin’ and I happen not t’ be,” I tell her quickly, but she doesn’t budge, and neither do those stubborn lips. 

“I don’t want Kristi, I want you. Why can’t you stay?” 

“‘Cuz I have sumthin’ important t’ do! How many times do I gotta say you’ll be fine, Becks?!” I exclaim, the firmness ringing in my voice. I watch painfully as the words hit her like a slap in the face, and the pout is nonexistent in a blink. A trail of huffed regrets paint my lips, and my hand habitually flies to my hair in frustration. “‘m sorry, didn’t mean t’ explode on ya there.” 

“It’s fine, like you keep saying. Everything’s fine, I’m fine, you’re fine. My nightmares are fine,” she mutters, suddenly avoiding my gaze because apparently, her lap is all too interesting to look away from. “Just go . . do whatever you want. I’ll be fine, like you say.” 

“Becks,” I sigh, regretfully. 

“Go,” she responds softly, shaking her head. That’s the very thing I do when I watch the tear bead in the corner of her eye, and then slide down her cheek. Pleas of ‘no’s stab at my ears and her squirming only last seconds, before she melts like putty in my arms. 

“‘m sorry. ‘ll jus’ text Skye and ask her, or see if she can come t’ me. Yer mo’ important, Becks.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me,” she breathes against my neck, sniffles accentuating her pained words. 

“‘m not, babe, I neva would. Yer always mo’ important, promise you that,” I coo, gently breaking up the snarls in her dark locks. “‘ll stay, I wanna.” 

There isn’t a lie hiding in my words, or in my intentions, but it surprises me at moments how easily I’m used to being needed so much by her. It’s bittersweet, I reckon, realizing how much she needs me, all of the time. It’s flattering and makes my former self jealous in moments, but on the other hand, it saddens me immensely. I know it shouldn’t be that way, and I wish it wasn’t, but it is. If this is where she wants me, that’s all she has to say, and I’m there. 

“Get some sleep, baby,” I murmur against her temple, pressing a kiss there while my hands leave imaginary stripes up and down the expanse of her back. 

“I’m sorry that I need you all of the time,” she sobs, the tears warm and wet against the corner of my neck. Sighing, my bum finds the edge of the bed as I pull away from her, ever so painfully. 

“Hey, ya don’t ever hafta apologize fer that, ya hear me?” I tell her, brushing my thumb along her chin, holding her face in my hands. “Me job right now, me life right now ‘s t’ take care o’ you. I wouldn’t want t’ be doin’ nuthin’ else, I wantcha t’ know that. ‘m not goin’ back t’ work ‘til yer all betta and can take care o’ yerself, doesn’t matta how long. ‘m not goin’ anywhere, eitha, Becks . . I need ya bloody bad too, I reckon, and that’s okay.” 

“You’re kind of the best, you know that?” she just barely smiles, leaning into my hand and peering up at me with those eyes that are to die for.

I don’t even care how premature it is, I hope every single one of my bloody kids has her eyes, but oh, the ways that they melt me. They sure would get away with loads, seeing how much she gets away with just by using those eyes on me.

“Only kinda?” I tease and the truest giggle I’ve heard grace her lips in days sings to my ears. 

“Maybe more than a little,” she winks. Her cheeks are wet and salty beneath my lips, bunching up with a smile as her song fills the air. Pulling away, she knuckles at her eyes while a yawn leaves her next. 

“Get some rest now, Becks, ya need it.” 

“I know.” 

“I won’t go anywhere,” I promise her aloud, and her smile says all of the ‘thank you’s that I could ever need, I reckon. That thought fills with doubts when she presses the sweetest of pecks to my lips, her gratitude painting my insides. 

“Yer welcome,” I whisper against her mouth, leaving my own kiss on the top of her head, smiling contently at the image of her sinking into her covers while sleep calls for her.

+

“I need a ‘yes,’ not a bloody ‘maybe.” 

“Okay, I meant yes.” 

“No, ya didn’t. Bloody hell, are ya confusin' or what? I needa straight answer here, and quick!” 

“Yes, yes, yes. Is that enough for you?”

“Yes,” I return, grinning at the eye roll I receive from her. 

“Dammit, Harry, like you’re any better,” she tuts with a disapproving shake of her head. Playing with the ends of her green crimped hair, a thought bounces around behind her eyes, and then they lift to me. “Yeah, it’ll work, if you’re quick about it. I dunno how long she’ll want to do it, you know. I hope you get lucky today.” 

“Fook, me too, I hope. Already a day late.”

“Yeah, so get a move on it, bud,” Skye quips with a wink, both of our gazes pulled over to the curtains that part and the sight that we find. “All ready, Ree?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know how much I trust your driving, though,” Becks responds, toying with her plum colored knit blanket folded on her lap. Her tired eyes flit to me and widen in a question, one I’ve heard repeated five times already. “You’re sure you can’t come, Harry?”

“We’ll be fine, Ree, we’re just going to go for a little stroll around the hospital. Get you some fresh air and maybe buy something in the gift shop, it’ll be fun.”

That doesn’t calm the quakes that have rattled her ever since we brought up the idea of getting Becks out of bed to take a wheelchair ride around. Well, that was until I said that it wouldn’t be me pushing her around.

“Ya, sorry, bug. I gotta make some work calls at last, but it’ll be good fer you t’ get outta this room,” I pipe up, stepping forward and sinking to a squat in front of her. “You go pick sumthin’ nice out fer yerself.”

“Harry,” she sighs when I slide a bill into her hands. She tries to fight me and place it back in my hands. My head shakes at her and I fold her fingers over it and give it a squeeze. 

“I mean it, buy ya sumthin’ that’ll make ya happy. I don’t wantcha t’ bring it back, and don’t you spend it on me now,” I insist with raised eyebrows, winking at her with a warm smile. Her fight response shrinks away before my eyes and I nod happily. “Atta girl, Becks. Listen t’ yer boss now,” I hum, booping her nose and watching her roll those magnificent eyes at me. A blessing, it is, indeed. My hand falls to cradle her cheek and pull her towards me so I can encapture her lips with my own. 

“How in the hell are you used to this already? It makes me wanna be sick,” somebody grunts from behind me. Laughs tickle both of our lips and I pull away from hers prematurely. 

“Oh, sorry. Did I interrupt you snogging me sister?”

“Robbie, would you shut up for once?” Becks groans, recognizing the voice for me, so I don’t have to embarrass myself any further by turning around. 

“Whatever,” he exhales with a slap of his hand to his thigh. 

“You drive safe now,” I tell her firmly, scooping her hair behind her ear. “Lookin’ gorgeous, y’know, and mo’ like yerself e’ry day.” the whisper nudges the corners of her lips higher on her cheeks. I swear I catch a whiff of summertime stuck to her skin when I leave one last kiss with her. 

“Okay, okay. Get a room, you two. We gotta get this show on the road. C’mon, Robbie, you’re in charge of her IV pole,” Skye huffs, tapping her fingers on the steering handles of the wheelchair behind Becks. 

“Alrighty then,” I giggle with a squeeze to Becks’ arm as they pull away. “See ya lot soon, have fun.” 

“Oh, we will, won’t we, Ree?”

“I don’t feel too good about this,” Becks whines sarcastically from a few yards down the hallway. My heart doesn’t quake, though, and neither does her honey-likened voice that soon dissolves into a happy giggle. The only thing that could possibly be better than this, I think to myself, is getting to be the one to push her down the hall and to bring her home, here soon. 

“Not soon enough,” I muse to myself, walking back into the room and picking up the packet of photos. The tears fall, unabated, as I flip through them and wish for those simpler times before shaking my head, knowing I’d never want to go back to before. No matter how shitty this after is, I’d never want to have to wade through that heap of shit again to get to her, although I know that I would. I’d do it all a hundred times over, and then a thousand, if it meant getting to be with Becks. 

I hope more than anything I get to say that again one day, and hopefully with grandkids on my lap and gray in my hair, because sometimes I’m convinced I’m far too young to be hurting like this. I couldn’t care less if I’m too young to love this hard, though, and never would I wish that away. If two and some odd years gave me all of this, I can only dream of what tens and tens of years could bring me, and us. 

Bloody hell, don’t get too ahead of yourself there, Harry, I chastise myself as I arrive at another picture, knowing fully well that this is one I’d show our kids, and our grandkids. 

Too late, that train has already left that station. You’re about two years too late, but then again, so was I.

++

“Did you bring it?”

“Yep, I hid it in your room. I wrapped it too, don’t worry. It’s all ready, Ree.” 

“Thanks,” I respond softly, wringing my hands underneath the blanket. His face lingers in my mind and so does his voice, and the feeling of his lips. My heart feels heavy with longing, and with a swallow I chastise myself for missing somebody I saw ten minutes ago. 

“I think he’ll love it, it was really thoughtful of you,” Skye murmurs from behind me while Robbie hums a tune beside me, pushing my IV pole. “How are you feeling?”

“Can we go back yet?” I ask gently, twirling the braided silver around my finger until it stills. My fingers drift to the soft beads surrounding my wrist that I twiddle instead now. 

“But you haven’t bought anything yet.” 

“I don’t want to, I just want to go back. Please,” I sigh, my eyes falling away from the shelves of overpriced items that only grandmas would buy, it seems. “I just wanna see Harry,” I say to myself and only her, the knot in my throat stopping my swallow. Without me allowing it, my lips quiver and tears fill my eyes. A louder ‘please’ trickles into the air and I hastily wipe the tears away. 

“Yeah, sure. Let me uh, just see if Harry is done . . You know, with his phone calls.” 

Why do I feel like this?

Sure, I missed him all of the time before, and sometimes from across the room. Now, things are different, so different. I’m different, and so is our relationship, so you’d think that because of it I’d miss him less. As a matter of fact, I don’t miss him any less, I only miss him more. I blame that partially on the dull headache I always seem to have, and its underlying truth that everybody keeps blaming my overactive emotions on. Now, floors away from him and he’s all I can think about, and all that I want.

That isn’t very different from before, though. 

“Okay, let’s go back,” Skye mumbles with finality to her voice. She thinks that I don’t hear it, like so many of them keep thinking I don’t hear or see things they forget to hide, but I hear the annoyance in her voice. It stings, and so do the tears, because they’re always too near nowadays. 

My heart does a somersault in my chest and I feel like I can finally breathe again when we turn the corner, and there he is, standing outside of my room. This is all still so much that I’m not used to. 

“Hey, back early, are we?” Harry rasps, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans. “E’rythin’ alright?” he asks, sinking down into a squat in front of me. My shoulders offer their slightest of shrugs in answer, but I know that he receives one when he catches the last bead of a tear on my cheek. “That’s okay yer back early. Alright, bug?” he hums against my forehead, pressing a long, warm kiss to my skin that melts from his returning touch. 

“Yeah, just missed you.” 

“Missed you too, li’l one. Yer okay, ‘m here,” Harry coos, his thumb rubbing stripes into my hair. “Thanks, you two. ‘ll uh, take it from here then. We’ll see ya later fer dinna, I reckon.” 

We share our goodbyes and Skye whispers ‘it’s in the closet’ to me when we hug. 

“How ya feelin’, bug? Anythin’ hurt?” Harry murmurs, sneaking a hand underneath my blanket to lace his fingers with mine. 

“Head a little, but that’s nothing new.” 

“Mmmm, reckon tha bright hospital lights didn’t help that. Ya should drink some mo’ water, and ya haven’t had lunch quite yet.” 

“Yeah,” I exhale, almost automatically, pulling our joined hands out to lay on top of the covers. 

“Ya look tired. Maybe ya should lie down fer a snooze.” 

“No, I’m okay,” I respond, tracing the curves and lines of his silver, rose ring. My actions wander to his two other rings on this hand, my favorite past time as of late. 

“‘Kay, let’s go back t’ yer room, tho’. There was sumthin’ I wanted t’ show ya.” 

“Okay,” I say, lifting my head and that’s where I find his glowing eyes. They imbue me with everything I could ever want and need to feel. 

“Promise ya won’t cry?” Harry requests while getting to his feet, and then disappearing behind to me. 

“What? I don’t understand, Harry . . .” 

“Ya will inna sec, bug. Jus’ you wait,” he quips, and the wheels start to roll. I wish the cogs in my head had begun their journey too, trying to guess at what he’s getting at, but only do they turn once he flips on the light when we’re back in the room. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Becks. Well, give or take a day or two. ‘m sorry ‘bout that, but ya had gotten sick and so I had t’ postpone a li’l. I hope ya like it, I know there’s not many, but . . ,” Harry introduces, his words escaping him. I’ve taken them all, I think, the sight in front of me blurring instantly until I blink and the tears are wetting my cheeks. “Now, we have loads o’ time t’ make mo’ . . mo’ memories.” 

“Harry, I-I . . “

Memories I can’t even place hang from the ceiling of my hospital room, strung on purple twine are pictures of Harry and I from the last few years. With his help, he pushes me around the room so I can grab hold of them and admire them.

They’re all candids. One or two from meetings at the firm from my time as his assistant. One from the Halloween party of our costumes as Beetlejuice and Morticia Addams. A bittersweet one from my going away party from before. A happier one from Harry’s recent birthday party. One of the long nights at the hospital spent with him last winter even makes an appearance. Then there’s a giggly surprised selfie he took from a night at my house playing Scrabble from before. My lips quiver at the adorable selfie from our first date, and how naive we seemed, if only days ago. I laugh at our first kissing selfie from that Sunday on his sofa, right before everything changed. A mentor-mentee picture of the two of us Rose took from my first day back may be my favourite. That is soon trumped with an excited selfie in his office from that first day at work as a couple, but I find it heartbreaking to look at.

There are some that I can’t place right away in my mind and others flood my senses with the laughs and conversations we shared in those photos.

I didn’t think it was possible, but some way and somehow, I love him even more than I did just a second ago. 

“Harry, how did you . . “

“Thought ya promised ya wouldn’t cry,” he mumbles, and only then do I notice that he’s crouched beside me with his eyes waiting on me. It takes me a second to place the tears welling in his eyes, and the bittersweet dimpled smile accompanying them. “I talked t’ e’rybody, and had them send any pictures they had o’ us. Rose, Asher, Myles . . Skye was tha biggest help o’ all, gettin’ into yer Cloud t’ get some o’ these. Yer phone was lost in tha accident, sadly, but luckily you were a smart cookie, and had e’rythin’ backed up. ‘s why I couldn’t go with you on yer ride ‘round jus’ now, I wanted t’ hang these up fer you, bug . . Now, I neva said I wouldn’t cry,” he laughs sadly, and the previous smile falls into his shaking lips. “‘m so glad we have all o’ these . . ‘m so fookin’ grateful I have you, Becks, all o’ these years, and so many mo’ t’ come, babe.” 

“Oh, Harry,” I sigh blearily, falling into his arms that surround me. I’ve always known that it was natural, but I’ve never had something feel so right, not until him. “You’re the sweetest, you know that?”

“Nah, babe, you are. My sweetest Becks,” he hums, pressing a line of kisses along my cheek until he reaches my lips. At last, I get to taste the molasses that his words were always coated in, without fail. My happy giggles buzz against his mouth until he pulls away with his eyebrows askew. “‘m tryna kiss you, yer makin’ it all difficult.” 

“That’s what I’m good at,” I murmur softly, my lips collapsing from the ironic weight of my words. 

“That’s okay, wouldn’t wantcha any otha way, baby,” Harry says, tapping my nose with his finger. If that doesn’t spur the next onslaught of tears, the honey that swims in his eyes does, and it’s all for me. Every last drop. “Good things are difficult sometimes.” 

“Who are you quoting, yourself?” I titter and his cheeks redden before me. 

“Hush, you,” he tuts, and that he does with his lips against mine. There’s a new fervor to his kisses as of late, but at the same time, a further gentleness to them ever since . . it happened. It’s contradictory, it is, but I’m just glad he’s not afraid to touch me anymore. Deep down, I know that he has enough fear bottled up inside of him for the two of us though, and as if I didn’t as well. 

His lips are sweet and slow against mine, and so are his fingers that trek through my hair, careful of the stitches and staples that he’s memorized the locations of. They mold against mine beautifully, locking together ever so effortlessly, and that is until thoughts ravage my brain and make them tremble. Flashes of bright lights, screeching tires, and clangs of metal against metal ricochet inside of my head. That’s not even the worst of it, no, it’s not. The honey on his lips soaks mine with its sweetness, but it’s a feat in itself as I feel for the hundredth time the fear of never getting to kiss him again, or to hug him, or feel him against me, or to hear his voice. Like it so easily can, it shakes me to my core, and sends me jumping into his arms. 

“Ya, reckon we need a breather,” he jokes against my hair where his lips lie, peppering more kisses onto me. Tears spill down my cheeks silently as I stare at the windows frosted from the February cold, and obscured by the beginning blizzard. 

We talked about our dreams of having babies together earlier today, and I cherished it immensely, but it only makes me hurt more. Harder. It frightens me to think I almost had that possibility ripped out of my hands, and what if it could happen again? He could get into an accident himself, especially in weather like this, or if something were to happen to him. Anything. A heart attack, an aneurysm, an allergic-

“What’s that li’l head thinkin’ so hard ‘bout?” Harry whispers, holding me against him. They keep coming, and it’s only a matter of time until he feels them still coming, hitting the bare skin of his neck. 

I want it.

It’s early, but I know that I do, and perhaps even more now. I knew that I did before, or I thought that I did. I wondered, but never this much. I hadn’t wanted it this much, or dreamt about it so often. I almost feel mad for how densely it occupies my thoughts, but it made me sigh with relief when he told me that he dreamt of it too. 

Babies. 

His babies. 

Our babies, one day. 

“Becks?” he says, barging into my run alone thoughts. He really does it when he leaves my arms and I find those glassy green eyes once more. “You okay, bug?” he inquires, his large thumb swiping away the wetness painting my cheeks. 

“I love you . . . Harry,” I sigh, feeling yet another tear fall. He catches this one too, and I brush my knuckle against his cheek just in time to rescue one that leaks from his eye. 

“Love ya too, Becks, so much,” he wheezes with a contagious cheeriness to his raspy voice that tickles my cheek. I couldn’t count the number of kisses he presses to both of my cheeks, with a throbbing headache or not. He pulls a laugh from my lips so easily, like all of the other times, and then there he is, stunning me with that look on his face like I painted the stars in the sky. 

“I really do, though - love you,” I continue, the passion sewn into every tear that wavers in my voice. 

The dimples cave deeper into his cheeks covered with chestnut brown stubble, only making this sight before me all the better. A happy sound escapes his lips and if I look hard enough, it sings there in his eyes that have all of my attention. 

“I know, Becks. And I, you, my baby.” 

“God, you know how to make a girl melt, Styles,” I exhale, the fire burning hot in my cheeks, but it’s put out soon enough when the thoughts interrupt again.

The brash feeling of his beginning beard against my palm grounds me while I go through the motions, yet again. I was that close to never seeing him again, and leaving him forever. I don’t think that I could ever tell him, but it weighs me down with guilt that I almost left him, because each tear and confession of his breaks my heart all a little more. 

I really have no idea what I’d do without him here, taking care of me, every second of every day. Tears spew, hot and heavy down my skin, as I think just a second too long about the burning hell that it would be if this had happened just a month earlier, or even this last summer.

I’ve lost count of how many times my family has said that it should’ve been worse, and that I should’ve had more broken bones, or something that Harry refuses to say - that I should have died with the extent of the wreck.

If I had still been lucky and this had happened at another time, what then? Would I have come back? Why would I have, though? Every time I open my eyes in that bed, I know that he’ll be there, right at my side, and the thought of that not being a given if this had happened at another time . . It sickens me.

If it had happened when he was with her . . would he have come? Would he have come and seen me during the worst year of my life, last summer or last winter? Would she have let him, that ex-girlfriend of his? What would have been my reason to live, if not for him? Would I-

“Becks?” Harry says, clearing his throat. “What’re ya thinkin’ ‘bout, babe?”

“Nothing,” I confess with hot cheeks, wiping a hand across them and looking to my lap. 

“‘Kay, I won’t press,” he relents, stroking a hand through my hair. My eyes almost go into the back of my head at that, and I nearly giggle. “Looks like somebody ‘s tired aftall.” 

Tired of all of these thoughts ravaging my brain, and keeping me awake at night, and from enjoying the moment with you, yes. 

“No, I’m okay,” I lie, putting on a smile that even I know he’ll recognize as fake. 

“Yer tired, I can tell. Ya need t’ rest up befo’ P.T. again later, we can do our gifts anotha time.” 

“Harry, no,” I insist with a shake of my head, but I underestimate my strength. Squinting, my hand flies to my forehead that I clutch where it hurts with repetitive pangs. “I don’t wanna sleep.” 

“How come, bug? Ya need it, it’ll help yer headache. Ya haven’t taken a nap this mornin’ yet, that’s not good.” 

What would you say if I told you . . the truth?

How would you react if I said that I’m afraid to sleep, even with you there at my side, or in the same sheets that cover me? Even with the drugs they give me for sleep, I’m scared to enter my dreams, because all they’ve been lately are nightmares. They’re not even obvious at times, or anything like what they used to be . . before. Sometimes they’re about the accident, revolving around the bits of memories I’m getting back every day. No, they’re more than that, and worse. They’re watching you get married from afar, and not from across you, but from the clouds in the sky. Last night’s was looking down from the sky at you stare a hole into the wall of the chapel with my coffin a few rows away. I couldn’t get myself to wake you up when I shot up in the bed, gasping for air.

During the nap I took yesterday before dinner, it began all sunshine and daisies with me holding a dark haired, green-eyed baby with a dimply smile that cooed at you and giggled. Like they always do, it turned sour at the end, and it was me, inside of the dream, waking up from that being a dream too.

What would you say when I tell you that my dreams consist of nightmares about you, and what I fear I’ll lose with you, again? A chance at happiness, a future of wedding bells and babies, and so much more. I couldn’t live with myself watching the sadness devastate you when I tell you that one of the worst nightmares of all is dreaming about that day at work before it all happened, kissing behind closed doors, and muttering sweet nothings between each other. It wouldn’t seem like a nightmare, no, but it is when I wake up stuck in that hospital bed with a slew of things wrong with me, and you, deprived of sleep, snoozing on a bloody sofa. No matter how badly I’d like to, I know that I wouldn’t tell you, I couldn’t.

Worst of all, I don’t think I could ever tell you about the dream where the accident happened and you didn’t come, never at all.

What would you say then? 

I’m not sure how many times he’s said my name by the time I hear it and respond, leaving my thoughts, only barely. I’m certain of the wave of worry that glazes over his eyes at my absence, and how it only adds up to me acting odd, and me being different. 

“I’m okay, Harry,” I tell him, filling my lungs with air, but even that hurts too. I can’t decide if I want him to believe the lie or not, because one way would mean having to tell him about the bad dreams. 

“Ya don’t seem like it, Becks.” 

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, unable to look into his eyes any longer and not feel overwhelming bittersweetness. 

“Ya have nuthin’ t’ be sorry fer, love,” he huffs with a shake of his head, and I’m convinced I could never say anything that’s right. “Here, wantcha t’ open one o’ me presents fer you.”

+

His chest rises and falls in a pattern, and I count the seconds until it lifts again, under my hand. His own lays limp cradling my head amidst his wheezing that fills the air. If I squint just hard enough, I can make out the pile of last minute gifts toppled on the bedside table. My insides warm at the thought of them, and the excitement that claimed his face when he opened the brown leather messenger bag I got for him weeks ago. It lived up to the surprise that etched onto my insides at the sight of the gifts he got me. I almost beat him in the first round of FRIENDS trivia from the game deck he got me, and he let me win our first game ever of Bananagrams. My happiness also awaits in the red and brown checkered Vans box holding my brand spanking new pair of purple Old Skool shoes. I could just cry at the memory of opening them all, and how my heart swelled into another size in that moment. 

Lifting my eyes, his thick eyelashes flutter against his peachy skin. I habitually twirl the frayed string of his baby pink hoodie around my pointer finger, hearing his voice from just a few minutes ago repeat in my head. 

“‘ll only lie down with you if you nap as well, Becks.” 

I’m sorry, Harry . . , I think quietly with regret, my finger dragging along the outline of the peonies trapped in the vinyl square on his jumper. Van Gogh’s brushstrokes litter the image, and occupy my fingers as I trace the petals, the air around me growing silent.

But he succumbed to his exhaustion within moments, too soon to make sure that I followed through with my word. It stabs at my heart every time I see the bags under his eyes, think about how Skye said how much of a wreck he was when she told him, and fills me with so much guilt every time I ask him not to leave me, it overflows. 

“I love you . . more than I’ve ever loved somebody, or something,” I confess into the unlistening air, surprised at the volume of my voice. “Sometimes I’m sorry for how much, and for how you love me, knowing how it hurts you to be here. I can’t even think about how scared you were, and how that is probably worse than how I feel, all of the time. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I say softly, into the cotton of his hoodie, rubbing at my eyes that betray me with their misgivings. “I wish I could wake up and this nightmare could all be over, but I’m not even brave enough to fall asleep, because of the nightmares I have about you.” 

“Wish I could too,” came a voice. Stilling, my eyes widen and then drift above me and find the sweetest sight of all. “Hi, bug . . I wasn’t s’posed t’ hear that, was I?”

My head shakes vehemently from side to side, disobeying the instruction I give it to stop before my head begins to hurt, only adding to the pain I feel at tearing my eyes away from him. 

“‘m sorry, Becks, I neva fell asleep. Almost, tho’ . . . Yer not okay, are you, bug?” he murmurs softly, the sleepy raspiness clinging to his voice in places, regardless of how much I want to ignore it. All of it. “Rebecca Ann Holte,” he coos, cuddling closer to me and peppering kisses along my neck. 

“I talk to you often when you’re asleep, but this time you heard.” 

“‘m sorry again, babe, didn’t mean t’. Tellin’ me deep, dark secrets, are you now?”

“I dunno. Is that bad if I do?”

“No, ‘ve spoken t’ you befo’ when yer sleepin’. ‘s freein’ and less nervewrackin’, I reckon . . Ya want t’ talk ‘bout it?” he inquires gently, magic leaving the tips of his fingers that coast along my spine through my oversized t shirt. “‘Bout these nightmares? I have a feelin’ yer not tellin’ me e’rythin’ ‘bout them, and why yer not sleepin’ like ya should be.” the edge to his voice is blurred and smooth, unlike the firmness its held today when he tells me that I need to sleep.

No, this time, it’s like a gentle hand held out towards me, or a shoulder waiting there for me to tip my heavy head onto. 

“They’re always there . . waiting for me. They’re not even about the accident anymore- well, not really, anyways,” I divulge slowly, words shaking with every breath I take. Guilt eats at my insides because of the fact that I can’t meet his eyes, but it’s lulled away with his hand rubbing circles into my back. “They’re about like, what if I . . didn’t make it.” 

“I have those too, sumtimes, I know how awful they are, or jus’ even thinkin’ ‘bout it,” Harry croaks, and his revelation leads me to nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck, my favorite place forever and ever. “Dunno what ‘d do without ya, bug, I mean it. Me life’s nuthin’ without you.” 

“Don’t make me cry, again,” I blubber against his warm skin, noseing against his collarbone. 

“‘m sorry,” he titters sadly with a sniffle peeking out from his apology. “‘m sorry I can’t take ‘em away eitha, Becks, wish so badly I could. I wish mo’ than anythin’ that I could make all o’ this go away, and have it be like befo.’” 

“Me too, Harry, I really do.” 

“But I know that I can’t, and it doesn’t hurt less t’ realize, ‘s jus’ how it ‘s. But I know that it‘ll be in tha past soon enough, and listen t’ this, sounds like ya getta go home t’moro’ or Sunday. Best news ‘ve heard, well, since they told me you were okay,” he reveals, the happiness climbing his sentence swiftly. “I get t’ take you home, li’l one.” 

“And will you stay then too? You don’t have to, it’s just that-,” I begin to ask, but he doesn’t let me get very far in telling him why. 

“‘Course I have to, and I will, mo’ importantly. No place else ‘d ratha be, Becks. I can’t wait t’ bring ya home with me.” 

“I think you’re my home, though, Harry,” I say, each syllable tickling his lips further up his cheeks after he turned my head to face his. 

“Think yer mine too, Rebecca Holte . . my home.”

+

It seemed insurmountable, impossible even. I didn’t even want to try, and the pain pulsating in my ankle reminded of that ever so plainly. That all changed, ever so simply, when my eyes found him waiting there for me with the largest smile shown on his face. It’s kept amazing me, day after day, how somebody could have such happiness sewn into their features, and that it was all for me, and because of me. 

“C’mon, Becks, show ‘em what ya can do,” Harry murmured eagerly, raising his eyebrows in my direction. “I know ya can do it, bug.” 

If he believes in me, then maybe I could believe in myself too, I thought strangely as the throbbing continues. With a lift and then a plant, my ankle sings with stabs of icy pain, but I keep going. I breathe through each stab, each sting, and every debilitating wave of acrid pain until at last, I fall into his arms. 

“That’s my baby! Bloody hell, am I proud o’ you. Ya walked all tha way ova t’ me, and without any help! That’s me girl,” he chuckles happily, moving the hair out of my eyes. “Amazin’ me e’ry day, you are, Becks.” 

“I did it for you, all of it,” I smile through the tears, looking up at him and basking in the sunshine that is his smile. Finally, that sunshiney smile found its way back to me through those lips. I can almost taste the tang of it when I press my lips to his briefly. 

“‘m so proud o’ you, every second,” he keeps mumbling repeatedly from above where I stand wrapped up in his arms, my tippy toes touching the cold hospital floor. 

“I’m here because of you . . I mean it.”

+

“Reckon e’rybody was amazed at tha show ya put on in there, Becks,” Harry giggles beside me. “Dunno why I still need t’ feed you if ya can walk across a bloody room on yer own.” 

“Because you like to feed me,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders, laughing when the forkful of saucy spaghetti touches my lips. 

“Yer a baby,” he wheezes, feeding the last few noodles to me. 

“Hey!” I protest, taking the fork from him and stabbing at the last meatball. 

“Hey, you! Dontcha take tha last meatball, I was savin’ that.” 

“That’s what you get for calling me a baby,” I whimper, not moving to bring it to my lips, and dragging it through the marinara sauce. 

“Didn’t mean it that way, bug, y’know that,” he rasps, nosing at my cheek affectionately. “C’mon, it was me spaghetti anyways. This ‘s tellin’ fer tha future, innit? Yer gonna be eatin’ off me plate always, aren’t you, ya brat?”

“Sure, you didn’t. You really know how to suck up to me, that’s for sure,” I joke.

“And it works, doesn’t it?” 

“Harry!” I exclaim, moving away and finding his laughing eyes. His head tips against mine sweetly, and I lean into him, brushing my toes against his under the covers. “Ugh, your feet always feel like icicles!” 

“Good thing I got me li’l heater t’ keep me warm then,” he coos, his lips feathery against my temple. 

“Since you’re sweet, sometimes, or just a good suck up, here,” I sigh, holding out the fork in front of his mouth. His grin grows and he leans forward as I feed him the last meatball. 

“Thanks, bug,” he mumbles through a mouth full of food. 

“Welcome. Ugh, I’m full.” 

“Good, ‘s ‘bout time. Yer eatin’ mo’ e’ry day . . yer doin’ so well, Becks,” Harry hums, the clattering of silverware and plates filling the air around us. “Ya must be tired from t’day, a full belly will help ya sleep too.” 

“Mmmhmm,” I nod into his shoulder, sliding down the bed until my head finds the safety of his chest again, nuzzling into that very spot where it always feels right. 

“So proud o’ you and how far ya’ve come, Becks.” 

“Thanks, Harry. I couldn’t have done it all without you,” I yawn, eyelids fluttering when his fingers find my hair. 

“Ya keep sayin’ that, y’know. Ya said it earlier durin’ P.T. D’ya rememba?”

“No, what’d I say?” I ask, wrapping the blush hoodie string around my finger, seeing how many times it curls around until its end. 

“Ya said sumthin’ ‘bout bein’ here cuzza me, and doin’ it all fer me . . Babe, what’d ya mean by that?”

“Oh,” I exhale, eyes snapping open quickly in surprise. “You heard that.” 

“Ya, was I not s’posed t’ or sumthin’?” he giggles, but I don’t echo it, and it disappears like it was never there in the first place. “Becks, did I say sumthin’ wrong, love?”

“No, you’re okay.” 

“Then what’s tha matta, hmm?” 

“It is all because of you, and for you,” I begin to say, unsure of where I’m going with this, or more so, how to get where I need to go. 

“What ‘s, Becks? I don’t undastand.” 

“I’m trying so hard to get better for you, and because I have you there . . here. I couldn’t do any of this without you, Harry . . I don’t think I’d even be here if it weren’t for you,” I confess, my words soon growing wet from where they leave my lips. 

“Hey, don’t say that,” Harry sighs, emotion caught up in his voice, but I know it’s only the beginning.

Hold on, Harry, it’s going to be a bumpy ride. 

“But it’s true. I keep thinking that if my accident had happened even a month ago, or this last summer, I don’t think I would’ve made it.” 

“Becks, don’t. Please, I don’t wanna-.” 

“I’m telling you the truth, Harry,” I interrupt, lifting my head at last and finding his eyes murky with unspilled feelings. “I had nothing to live for only a month ago, maybe becoming a lawyer, but that was it. I know that I’m alive because of you, and because I had something to live for. You.”

“Becks,” he says, shaking his head in denial while his cheeks glisten with tears. “I don’t wantcha talkin’ like that.” 

“I’m right, I wish you could understand, but I am. I’m not lying, I wish I was,” I whimper, pausing to sniffle and catch my breath. “That day w-was one of the best and worst of my life, even if I can only remember half of it. But that’s okay, because it’s the good half, with you. I had probably the worst year of my life just before all of that, before I found you again.” 

“Baby,” he murmurs, his voice catching on his thick sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” I confess with difficulty, tearing my eyes away. My hand wanders to his that I pick up and relish in the grounding feeling of its weight in mine, and his other that cradles my cheek. “It was, what with my dad’s cancer. It brought you back to me, and then just when I thought things were turning around, I had you stolen away from me, again. I don’t know what happened, we just stopped talking, and then . . “ 

The splashes of ink scattering his skin blur before my eyes, but I continue to trace the black cross and the bottom of the anchor I find underneath his jumper. 

“‘m so sorry, Becks. Yer phone would ring and ring when I called, and ya didn’t get back t’ me texts . . but ‘s no excuse, I shoulda jus’ stopped by yer flat and-.” 

“It’s okay, Harry, I had no excuses either. I should’ve taken Skye’s advice and dropped by the firm and said hi, had a spontaneous lunch date like we kept putting off then,” I explain, matching his words and yet, I know that in the coming moments he can’t match the pain the past brings back to me. “And you dated somebody else, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t tear me apart, even though I get to have you now.” 

“Becks,” Harry croaks, sliding his hand out from under mine and pulling me against his front. “‘m so sorry, I didn’t mean t’ hurt you then. I really didn’t.”

“I know . . but it felt like it then,” I say, muffled by his shoulder that absorbs my tears. 

“‘m so sorry, Becks, I am. I always wondered if you knew.” 

“I followed you on Instagram where you posted pictures of her, Harry, of course, I knew,” I laugh ironically into his jumper, finding fistfuls of it behind him. A profuse string of ‘sorrys’ and pleas fill my ears, and it only weighs my heart down heavier, filling it with guilt. Filling me with guilt. 

“This isn’t what I meant to do, or say. I didn’t want to make you feel bad because it’s all in the past and done with. I only wanted you to know how much I love you and that you mean the world to me- more than that, the universe, even. God, you still have to teach me how to be good at this talking thing.” 

There, I make him laugh, and it burns away the emptiness that had begun to burrow itself into my heart. Without deciding to, I begin to as well, even through the terrible aching in my sides and the pulsating behind my forehead. 

“I didn’t love her, y’know. She was neva you, she could neva be you fer me, n’body could, Becks. I dunno why I dated her, now that I think o’ it. I missed you so badly and wanted t’ be with you, but we kept playin’ phonetag, and sumthin’ jus’ happened with her. But it didn’t even last three months, and it was like we were jus’ friends, good friends through it all. She felt tha same way too, she said. ‘s not funny, but it ‘s . . When we broke up, she had asked if there was sumbody else, and without me answerin’, she said that she knew there was. ‘d neva really mentioned you t’ her, it didn’t seem right t’, but she knew ‘bout you somehow. She knew that I loved you, and not her,” he trails off, and I wonder if his sentences are eating away holes in his chest, like they are in mine.

“I still feel like a right git fer all o’ that, and how I jus’ tried t’ distract meself from what I really wanted - you. I couldn’t have you so I wasted time with her, ya could say. ‘m an asshole fer it, I know I am, not jus’ fer what I did t’ her, but what I did t’ you, as well. ‘m so sorry, Becks, it wasn’t s’posed t’ be that way. It was always s’posed t’ be you, jus’ you. ‘s been you, jus’ you, fer so long, babe. Even durin’ Amber, and ‘m sorry t’ bring her up as well, but it was you then too. Don’t think there’ll be a time when it isn’t you,” his forgotten past opens up to me through a string of words, no matter how much they sting, they’re there and they sing for me through his struggled sobs. The words leave holes inside of me, but the sound of his voice cracking with every other word fills them heavy with misery.

“I don’t- I couldn’t- You saved me too, y’know, so many bloody times, Becks, and jus’ this week. I couldn’t- wouldn’t have made it if ya died. I don’t wanna think ‘bout it again, but I know it. I thought ‘bout it in that waitin’ room, what ‘d do if ya had died, I-.” 

It’s sour and then it’s sweet, the taste of his lips coated with tears. Melancholy sticks to them, along with nostalgia, and longing. I wonder what he tastes on mine, and if he hears all of the words on mine that I shush his own with. 

“Don’t, Harry. Please, don’t,” I whine, my nose bumping against his in the half darkened room, but the lights of the monitors and tv screen catch the glint of  tears that drown his sage green eyes. “I can’t think about you dying, even though I know that you had to think about it happening to me, and I’m so sorry for that. I will be for the rest of my life,” I sob, the words uncontrollable and swallowed by my tears, and then by his arms that guide me back to him, and the swell of his chest that I long for. 

“‘s all in tha past, bug, let’s leave it all there. Shall we?” he cries, eliciting automatic nods into him. “We have so much t’ look forward t’ in tha future, and memories t’ make.” 

“Yeah, maybe even babies together one day,” I say, the risky words hot on my tongue that sends them to him with a small laugh. 

“Ya, we’ll hafta see ‘bout makin’ those one day too . . ,” he wheezes, and I almost roll my eyes at his cliche joke. “Ya should know, I want like five kids one day.”

“Oh, God, maybe I take that back now.” 

“No, ya can’t take back sayin’ ya want babies with me!” he scoffs, and we both collapse into laughter. It feels good, although edged with bittersweetness that clings to every moment and word. 

“How about four?”

“Nah, five.” 

“Five Styles babies?” I murmur softly, thinking of him waving hellos and goodbyes into my back, like now, years down the road with a baby in my belly, or in my arms. 

“Five, maybe a set o’ twins, knowin’ you. Who knows.” 

“You’re going to jinx it now.” 

“Good, I hope so. I reckon twins would be fun, I know a good one,” he titters from above, and I wish he could see the way that I roll my eyes at him in the least furious of ways. Silence blankets the room, besides the hum of the telly playing a FRIENDS episode. 

“How would we tell ‘em ‘bout all o’ this? Don’t think I could bring meself t’ do it,” he asks gingerly, interrupting the rise and fall of the melodic air. I swallow, greeting the lump once again, and it only grows bigger at the sound of the struggle in his voice. 

“I dunno, it’s just another one of the times you saved me.” 

“And that you saved me as well, bug, don’t ferget that,” Harry coos, and I nod, letting my wet eyes flutter closed. “I can’t even count how many times you’ve saved me ova tha years, Becks. I can only imagine how many mo’ will come, and how good o’ a mum you’d make.” 

I let sleep start to take me away, knowing fully well that I’ll soon greet the nightmares, and that he’ll be there to wake me up from them and to sing to me until I stop crying. 

“Hey, don’t you fall asleep jus’ yet, li’l one.”

“Mmmm,” I moan into his chest, rubbing at my exhausted eyes. “What? I was falling asleep.”

“‘m sorry, my love, but I have one last Valentine’s gift fer you,” Harry wheezes happily. Silently, something tells me that this is important, something worthy of eye contact.

“What now, Styles? You already hit it out of the park with the games and shoes,” I say, but my laugh falls silent against his dimpled smile. I think that his thumb strokes the faint divot in one of my cheeks, my dimple nothing compared to his famous set. His voice is absent from his lips but the honey and sunshine that pool in his eyes tell me more than words could ever say.

“Was wonderin’ if ya’d be me girlfriend, Becks. Y’know, officially,” Harry titters. Now, his tears taste sweet and reminiscent of honey once my lips find his again, speaking confirmations against his mouth. “I reckon ‘girlfriend and boyfriend’ need t’ come befo’ babies and all o’ that one day,” he whispers, the sweetest of words wafting across my face.

“Of course, but only if you’ll be my boyfriend. What d’ya say?”

“‘ve only been dreamin’ o’ tha day I get t’ call meself yer boyfriend fer years and years, Rebecca Holte,” he confesses, memories and unspoken words held in his kisses that he covers my face with. My favorite sound in the entire universe tickles my ears as it flows from his lips and across my face.

I smile in my sleep, knowing that Harry will always be there to save me, and that maybe one day, I’ll be able to show him just how much I do love him. For now, I hope for dreams filled with green-eyed babies held in his arms, and the tangible dream of getting to go home with him soon to start our next chapter. 

[retro-rezz-the-est]

The Right Alpha pt. 2 (Drew/Reader/Roman A/B/O)

Summary: A/B/O action with Drew and Ro accompanied by real time plot lmao. No smut this time, but plenty of angst and fluff.

(A/N: I wanted to get this out for my birthday and for the 500 followers milestone last week but since I’m a lazy piece of shit who’s brain doesn’t work properly, I forgot lol. So here it is! Thanks once again for 500+ and let’s hope that I haven’t lost my marbles due to VKM’s crap by the next milestone. God bless @writinglionqueen and @writing-reigns for being my betas and my support system throughout this. Love y’all both! ^3^)

Warnings: a lot of harassment/sexual harassment, brief flashbacks of the douchebag ex from the first part and Roman and Drew bc they should come with their own warning labels lmao

Word Count: 6728

Read part one here 

(Y/n): your name

                                                       ~~~~~

“You sure you don’t need anything tonight?” Roman asked.

“Trust me, Ro, I’ll be fine,” you said, holding your phone to your ear as you walked towards the backstage door. Even though Ro was still scheduled to be at tonight’s show, he still had yet to show up to the arena. Duffel in hand, you shouldered the door open and were met with the bustling sounds of the production team and the stagehands prepping for that night’s SmackDown Live taping. 

You heard him chuckle in your ear. “If you say so, baby girl. Love you.”

“Love you too, Big Dog.”

Your heart felt light as you ended the call, sighing to yourself and holding the phone to your chest. You’ve been floating on air since Roman and Drew confronted you in that hallway after RAW a few months ago and with the implementation of the new, albeit incredibly stupid, “wild card rule”, you were able to spend more time with your Alphas. For the first time since jumping ship to the blue brand thanks to the new rule, you felt…

...happy.

You were actually eager to come into work that day, mentally preparing for your tag match with Bayley against Alexa and Nikki Cross. Sporting one of the merch tees you stole from Ro and a pair of jean shorts, you tried to maneuver your way around everyone and make it to the women’s locker room in one piece. You tugged on it and bought the collar to your face, inhaling and smiling as the scent of your alpha washed over you.

You really have it bad, don’t you? you asked yourself, your thoughts taking over.

Yep, and I don’t mind one bit.

You didn’t notice the figure in front of you until you crashed into them nose-first, bashing your head against the back of theirs.

“Shit,” you said, pocketing your cell as you tried to speak with a mouth full of hair. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention!”

“It’s ok, girl. I shouldn’t have been standing around like an idiot,” the voice replied, their body turning to face you.

The now-revealed Smackdown Women’s Champ ran a hand through her long hair and smiled at you, taking her other hand off of her suitcase’s handle briefly to give you one of her iconic hugs. When you first transferred from the Monday show, the Beta was the first person to show you any sort of kindness. So, the two of you became fast friends, looking out for each other both in and out of the ring. “So, how’s my fave tag team partner doing?”

“I’m doing well, actually,” you replied as you started off on you way again, her trailing closely behind you. “SmackDown’s a lot more chill than Raw is, to be honest.”

She let out another short laugh. “You’re not wrong here, (Y/n), but the wild card rule keeps shaking everything up around here.”

“Ugh, tell me about it. If I keep having to see the same people getting pushed when there’s quality talent just sitting back here, I’m gonna pull my hair out.”

“I know, right? I’d love to face some of the other girls here, like Kairi or Ember,” she added, unzipping her dark grey hoodie.

You raised your brow at her suggestions and noted, “I would actually pay to see those matches happen.”

“Well, at least it hasn’t been all that bad lately. You still get to see your mates every day thanks to the rule,” she sighed in content and looked at you. “I’m literally so jealous of you. Two mates! How do you guys even function?”

You started to ramble on about your relationship with the two Superstars as the two of you continued to walk down to the locker rooms, but you soon noticed Bayley glancing at you funny.

“What?” you asked her, brushing yourself off. “Is there something on me? Is there something on my face?”

“Nah, there isn’t. I was just hoping that you were gonna get into the more… juicy details,” she cheekily wondered, a sly grin plastered on her face.

“B-Bayley! I’m not gonna gossip about my sex life here! There are three topics you don’t talk about at work: politics, religion, and sex!”

“Aww, come on, live a little!” the beta whined. “Just this one little thing? For me?”

She already knew the answer the moment she looked back at your face, pouting in defeat. She made a move for her pocket and paused, feeling around in it when her eyes went wide.

“What’s wrong, Bayley?”

Groaning, she answered, “My hair ties. I think I left them with that stagehand I bumped into when I got here about an hour ago. Can you wait for me here and watch my bag while I try to find them? I promise I won’t be gone for long.”

“Of course,” you responded as she handed her small suitcase over to you. She shouted a “thank you” in your direction as she ran off and turned a corner.

You dropped your duffel on top of her suitcase and pulled your phone back out and leaned up against the wall behind you, scrolling through your old texts as you drowned out the hustle and bustle around you. You opened your group chat with Drew and Ro, giggling at how they both complained about working with Shane and his behavior.

Reading through the messages, you didn’t notice the shadow that had just loomed over your body. A hand slapped the wall next to your head, but you didn’t want to look up. You didn’t want to look up because you already knew who it was.

Speak of the fucking devil.

“Hello, (Y/n).”

You could already hear the sickly sweet adoration dripping from his voice, but you still didn’t look at him when you responded. “What the hell do you want, Shane?”

“Woah there, Omega. Is that any way to speak to your boss? I feel offended,” he said, his voice still filled with endless loads of fakeness. You could smell the cockiness rolling off him in waves, so much so that you had to hold your breath whenever he was around. The hand on the wall was slowly moving closer to your head and you could hear it, and you hoped to whoever’s above that someone would do something about it.

But no one ever did.

You could feel your hands starting to tremble as he leaned closer to your face. “I was just gonna ask where your two big, bad Alphas were, sweetheart. There’s no harm in that.”

The weight of his leer felt like a brick pressing against your forehead and you kept getting whiffs of want her and mine that you sure as hell didn’t need today. The Alpha above you moved a piece of hair away from your face and chuckled at your hesitance, already familiar with it.

“Y-You should already know where Drew is, you prick. And Ro’s here as well. He’s just not… here… right now.”

Your wolf was going absolutely batshit at the sight of him, and the thought of him touching you made it even more ravenous.

Hit him! Tear into his smug face! Kick him in the balls! Tell him off! Do something already!

You could feel your teeth start to grow sharper as he chuckled again, his free hand descending to your waist while the other made its way to the back of your head. You could feel his gaze lingering in your cleavage, and you felt more exposed than before.

Why can’t he just leave me alone, for fuck’s sake?

“Oh, he’s not here right now? What a shame. Truly,” he said teasingly. Shane’s hands gripped you tighter as he pulled you closer to him, forcing you to look up at him and drop your phone to the floor with a clatter. His eyes were malicious, but they held in them a caring look so fake and plastic that it made you sick.

Your entire body shuddered as you looked into his empty eyes. “Yeah, he’s not here now. So, w-what do you want from me, S-Shane?”

It was still shocking how no one passing by saw him do this to you. It still shocked you how no one interfered with him tormenting you like this.

“You know what I want, (Y/n). Just say yes and I’ll go.”

Resisting the urge to scoff, you uttered, “The fucking answer’s still no and you know why.”

“Aww, come on, live a little!” he whined, mocking Bayley’s earlier comment and making you cringe. “I could show you a really fun time.”

He managed to pull you even closer to his chest and he leaned down to your ear. “Just picture it: a night out celebrating with me and Drew after beating your pathetic, waste of space mate to a pulp once again. And as the night grows even later, we could get more… intimate, if you will.”

Don’t say anything, you told your wolf despite the immediate pushback from it. Shane’s breath was near potent and you actually felt the need to eject a wave of vomit onto his Jordans. Keep quiet and don’t make this any worse for me.

“Plus, seeing as those two idiots haven’t even claimed you yet, I can show that Scottish dud how it’s really done.”

Gripping your hair, he yanked your head back and bashed your head on the wall, ogling at your unmarked neck while you hissed in pain. With your arms stuck against his body, his head fell and he drew his nose over the skin. “You’d love being mine, Omega. I’d treat you right, unlike those absolute brutes you have for mates.”

Don’t do anything because if you do, then you’ll bite his nose off and we’ll be out of a job.

“What do you say, (Y/n)? You wanna take this for a test drive?”

His wedding band started to dig into your side through your shirt and you yelped, telling him, “You shouldn’t be doing this, Shane. You’re married, right? And you have pups?”

He roared with laughter at your comment, and all you wanted to do in that moment was curl into a ball and hide with your mates at your side. He responded with a large grin, saying, “And what about it, sweetheart? She doesn’t have to know now, does she?”

Moving up to your jaw from your neck, his lips brushed against your cheek as he added, “And besides, you like knowing that, don’t you?”

Before he could move closer to your own mouth, his own phone rang and you thanked every deity in existence that he released you and moved away to take the call.

“We’ll finish this conversation later, (Y/n). I’ll see you around.”

Holding the phone to his ear, he brushed off his chest with his free hand and casually walked away, you looking bewildered as he did so. You felt nauseous and dirty, feeling your now sharpened nails digging into the palms of your hands as you curled them into fists.

You hated this.

You’ve hated it since he started this little “game” of his a month ago, and you sure as hell hate it now. You hated how easily he could corner you and make you feel as vulnerable and weak as a small child. And you couldn’t even do anything about it because he was your fucking boss!

Your wolf howled in anger, letting out kill and must tell mates with every other breath. Everything around you continued as normal, but you knew that it was far from it. Your eyes burned with the feeling of unfallen tears and you could feel your breath grow faint when a familiar voice reared in the background. 

“Hey, (Y/n)! I’m back! Sorry I took so long, the stagehand wasn’t in the spot where I had found them originally and I had to go searching for them again but that took ages-”

Bayley stopped her mini rant and took a good look at you, your entire attitude seeming to deflate since she had left originally.

“Hey, are you okay?” the Beta asked you. “You look...sick. Like you’ve just seen a ghost or something.”

Blinking the tears away, you forced a laugh out and moved your hands behind your back. “It’s fine. I’m just… just a little nervous about tonight. It’s my first time going against Alexa and I want my first match with her to go well.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be fi- oh my god, (Y/n)!)”

You quickly looked around, eyes wide with shock. “What? What happened? What is it?”

“Your hands!”

“My wha- oh.”

Drops of blood were currently dripping from your fists and onto the floor, making small puddles at your sides. You didn’t feel the bite of your nails digging into your skin, but you chuckled nervously and tried to hide them again. She grabbed your wrists in one hand and reached for her bag with the other.

“We have to get these cleaned and wrapped before out match tonight. Come on!” she told you, hoisting your bag onto her shoulder and dragging you by your wrist to the medical personnel with her free hand.

~~~~~

“Haha, take that, Bliss! You’re never getting your hands on this!” Bayley exclaimed at the blonde as the woman clutched her sides at the champ’s feet, you raising her arm above her head in victory. Moments later, Nikki slid into the ring as soon as you two slipped out of it.

Bayley gave you a hug as she started to make her way up the ramp with her title held high, Bliss and Cross limping back up a few minutes later. You, however, walked in the direction of the announce table where an empty chair and headset were waiting for you. You gave a brief greeting to Graves, Saxton and Philips before situating yourself next to the first man.

The last match of the night was a one-on-one bout between Ro and Shane and as always, Shane cockily walked out to the ring with Drew in tow to the sounds of boos from the crowd and his “best in the world” introduction. Drew grabbed two mics for him and Shane before they both climbed into the ring, looking like they absolutely owned the place. It would’ve made you smile if it weren’t for him being the lackey at the likes of Shane. 

Shane raised his to his mouth and was about to talk, but he was interrupted by the blaring sound of Roman’s theme. He came out with a smirk on his face and you could almost hear the thud of his boots as he stalked to the ring.

He threw you a wink when he made it to the ropes closest to you and you smiled, hearing the ref signal for the bell and seeing Shane immediately rush at him from behind. He threw his forearm into the back of Roman’s head and crippled him, making you gasp. Drew applauded at ringside and the two of you locked eyes.

You shuddered under his intense gaze and you quickly looked away just in time to see Shane stomping out Roman, your mate groaning as his heel connected with his chest. You glanced away from the match briefly to discuss other matters with your fellow commentators (minus Graves, of course) before turning back and seeing Shane glaring directly at you, the look in his eyes making feel nauseous as you wrap your arms around your torso.

He winked at you like Roman had, taking his time raking those eyes along your figure and Roman was quick to notice. The Samoan bared his teeth and growled as he began to let out his wolf and rose from the ring floor, charging at Shane and spearing his head into the ringpost he was closest to. As the grey-haired Alpha started to regain his senses again, he threw his chest back and howled with the rest of the Universe and speared Shane again. The match was over before you could even blink, and Roman quickly pinned the other Alpha to pick up the win.

Huh, Shane’s off his game tonight. Good, you thought as you heard the three-count and you stood to clap for your mate. Taking off your headset and thanking the three men at commentary, you made your way into the ring and took Roman’s arm to raise it.

You two quickly moved out of it and began walking up the ramp side by side, his arm thrown around your shoulders and your own wrapped around his waist. Glancing behind you, you saw the dirty look Shane threw you and you smiled internally at that, claiming it as a small victory over him.

He pulled you aside near some supply crates as you made it backstage, bringing you into his chest while you inhaled his familiar scent. It had momentarily calmed your nerves down, being there with him, but they were briskly replaced by a new feeling of dread when he moved your hands from around him and looked down at your bandaged hands.

“How’d this happen, Omega?” Roman asked, worry making his brows furrow. “Did you hurt yourself?”

He started to rub at where the skin of your palms would be as you answered him. “Yeah, I did. I was nervous my match and I didn’t notice my nails digging into my hands. Bayley bandaged me up well, so I should be fine.”

You and your own wolf felt bad for lying to him about them, but you didn’t need him going after Shane with a death wish in tow and getting fired because of it.

This is better, you assumed, seeing his eyes grow soft. It’s better for all of us.

“I’m just glad that you were able to pin Shane tonight,” You raised your hands to cup his face and he nuzzled himself into them, making you chuckle. “Lord knows he needs to be put in his place.”

Roman laughed as you said the last bit under your breath, squeezing your waist before lifting his hands to move yours from his face. “Speaking of Shane,” he questioned, looking down at you with concern in his warm brown eyes, “what was that wink all about during the match? Is there something you’re not telling me, baby girl?”

“What? No,” you scoffed, answering him quickly. “Shane’s just being his usual dickish self in order to get under your skin and make you mad. Nothing more.”

The quickness of your response made the Alpha quirk his brow for a second when he smelled hurt and shame wafting off of you but he brushed it off, agreeing with you. You rose onto your toes and planted a kiss to his cheek, saying, “Now, you wait for Drew here while I go and get our things ready, ok?”

You let go of him and began walking away, hearing him reply with a “yes ma’am” and pivoting on your heel to see him throw up a faux salute in your direction. His eyes lingered on you even as your figure grew smaller until you finally turned a corner.

Your heart wanted to fall out of your chest and flop around on the floor when he asked you about your hands, and even more so when he asked about Shane’s shitty excuse of a wink. But, you persisted, even though your wolf continued to berate you about the situation.

Lying will not make this better. Makes it worse for you and mates. You’ll see.

~~~~~

Since your tag match with Bayley against Bliss and Cross went over so well on SmackDown, you were told that you had to give a dual promo with the blonde Omega the next week on the red brand. 

You arrived to the arena dressed in a casual black tank with some skinny jeans, your sweater tied around your waist. Since the skin on your hands was starting to heal and you didn’t want to encounter Shane again, you decided to take the longer route to the locker room instead, using as many of the hallways as you could. He was always lingering somewhere on both shows and was always eager to find you, and you weren’t taking any chances.

A few minutes had passed since you’d seen anyone and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Turning down another empty hall, you felt a presence trailing behind you as you walked, but you paid it no mind. Then, a rough hand grasped your shoulder and spun you around.

“Thought you could run away from me, little Omega?”

How in the absolute hell?!

Your eyes went wide when he spun you around and pinned your arms to your sides. Shane moved in closer and you had the incredible urge to just raise your head and scratch his face up with your teeth.

“H-How did you find me?”

His laughter bounced off the concrete walls, making your bones vibrate. “I told you last week that we’d finish our conversation later. And to me, ‘later’ means ‘right fucking now’.”

He laughed again at your lack of words, your mouth slightly agape and hyperventilating. You were smart in that you didn’t ball your hands up as to not puncture the skin of your palms again, but you were damn near close to.

You could feel his hands sliding up your bare arms and situate themselves at the base of your neck, his thumbs drawing figures along your collarbone. All you could see was his smug grin, complete with eyes that were filled with absolutely zero remorse for what he was doing.

“Why do you do this to m-me, Shane? What did I do to you?”

This caught his attention. “You haven’t done anything yet, but you will.”

Huh?

“Like I said numerous times before, you’ll need a real Alpha like myself to show you the ropes. You’ll need me to claim you and show you how to be a good-”

He talked to you as if you were an incompetent child, and his hold on you grew tighter with every word. You began to struggle and try to get yourself out and away from him, but to no avail.

This hurts.

“- obedient -”

Pain.

“- little Omega for me, (Y/n).”

Struggling became useless as your breathing became quicker and quicker with each passing second and you shut your eyes tight, feeling them shift along with your teeth. His words were reminiscent of those from your ex-lover, and you couldn’t help but see blood red all over at the sound of them. 

All you could think of was how dirty your ex made you feel, putting you down constantly with his hurtful, disgusting actions and words, and he made you feel the exact same way that he had and you wanted him to. You had to physically hold yourself back from pouncing on him and dragging his face into the ground.

Get him now!

“Shane? Shane, where th’ fuck are ya? We’re on in thirty bloody minutes!”

Oh, thank the gods above.

Shane groaned and released you abruptly, causing you to stagger back. “Fucking hell, Drew.”

The large Scottish Alpha’s feet reverberated off the walls around you and he turned the corner closest to you two, looking around. He spotted you both and stomped over, clearly pissed off with Shane.

“What th’ hell, man?! Ya say you were gonna meet me here, an’ then you just rush out like a bat outta hell!”

Dressed in a simple white tee and jeans with a leather jacket on top, he curled his hands and growled, letting off more feral scents combined with his usual one. Through his frustration, he saw the glow of your shifting eyes and how much you were trembling, accompanied by the growing of your nails at your sides.

Eyes flickering between the two of you, he looked at the other Alpha and grimaced. “And what were ya doin’ all alone here with my mate, Shane? I thought I told ya she’s taken.”

The other man chuckled nervously as you cupped your neck, feeling the imprints from his fingers already beginning to bloom into small bruises.

“We weren’t doing anything, McIntyre. I just caught up with her and was just politely asking her a question about her new feud with Alexa. Isn’t that tight, (Y/n)?”

You nearly barfed at his piss poor attempt at being nice, but you decided to play along. “Yeah,” you murmured, willing your eyes to fade to their normal hue and your nails and teeth to shrink down. “We’re all good here.”

You feigned another laugh and quickly put your sweater on, zipping it up fully to keep your skin hidden. Drew looked as if he didn’t buy any of it but soon turned around, grabbing Shane by the collar and dragging him away.

“Woah, hey now, watch the shirt! This thing is worth more than your monthly salary!”

“Cut th’ shit,” the Scot grumbled, stomping away with him in tow. “We’re already running behind schedule and I don’t need t’ hear your daddy runnin’ his mouth at me again.”

And with that, the duo disappeared behind another wall, their voices fading into nothing while you stumbled back into the wall behind you, clutching your chest and feeling your heart race.

“Great,” you muttered, briskly walking in the opposite direction of them. “Hope the Glam Squad has enough concealer to cover these up.”

Your promo was one of the first segments of the night and you were finished with it relatively quickly, getting a fairly good reaction from the crowd when the other woman had come out to do her bit. You were glad everything went smoothly once you finished and when you finally got backstage, you started to make the journey back to get the remainder of your things and head back to the hotel.

You made it to the women’s locker room and shut the door, grabbing your sweater and bending down to stuff it into the bag you had Natalya bring for you. You got out your phone to text your mates and ask them when they were going to be finished when the door behind you creaked open, twin footfalls thudding on the floor. Their scent slowly filled the room surrounded you before you saw them and you relaxed your shoulders.

“Hey, are you guys finished for the night? I was gonna text you to see when you-”

You pivoted on your heel to face the two large Alphas with a grin on your face, Roman dressed in a long sleeved black tee and shorts and Drew in the outfit you saw him in earlier. They stared back at you intensely, Roman crossing his arms and Drew moving to go lock the door.

You shuddered under their intense glares, asking, “Is everything okay?”

Roman was the first one to speak, uncrossing his arms and walking over to you. He moved your bag and took your hand, sitting you down on the bench behind you as the Scot watched from the door.

“Me and Drew were talking earlier, and we feel like you’re hiding something from us, ‘mega.”

Oh, help me now.

“Me? Hiding something from you two?” you pondered, scoffing and chuckling anxiously. “Everything’s totally fine. Trust me.”

“And there it is again,” he shot back, “you’re doing that thing again. You’ve been acting skittish and dodging our questions for almost a month now. Why won’t you tell us what’s wrong?”

He was confused, and you could clearly see the hurt in his eyes when you looked into them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them yet.

Do it.

“I mean, was it something that we said? Something we did?”

“N-No, of course not, Ro! You know you’d never do anything to hurt me! You both wouldn’t!”

You sighed and took your hands out of his, placing them on your head as your eyes fell to your lap. It took everything in you not to burst out into a fiery mix or rage and tears. “Look, I already told you guys before. It’s noth-”

A loud bang brought you back from your stupor and you yelped, jumping out of your skin and directing your attention to the door. Drew stood there with the side of his fist against the door, and there was a crack emulating from the impact.

“Enough of this, (Y/n). We’re your Alphas, your mates. You’re supposed t’ tell us when something’s up. Why’re ya hidin’ from us?” he whispered, his voice cracking near the end.

Drew didn’t really express his more sentimental emotions outright but when he did, it absolutely crushed you. You could see your mates hurting - feel them hurting - and they were slowly chipping away at your walls. The silence after he spoke was deafening and you knew that if a pin fell then, you would hear it.

Every second felt like a minute and every minute felt like an eternity until you opened your mouth again.

“I don’t want you both to think that I’m a bad Omega for not saying something sooner.”

Your soft voice prompted Drew to move away from the door and kneel down to your height, placing both of his hands on your thigh. “Leannan (sweetheart), nothing ya say right now will make us ever think that. You’re our mate, and ya should be able to tell us anything plaguin’ ya.”

“We love you, (Y/n), and we do care,” Roman added, moving his hand to cup your cheek. “You don’t have to tell us everything if it’s too much, but at least give us something.”

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The fuse was lit.

Boom.

With that permission, you didn’t notice how quickly your body shifted into attack mode and you hastily stood, knocking your bag over.

“It’s fucking Shane’s fucking fault!” you barked, baring your teeth and nails to no one. “He keeps on stalking me and harassing me and bothering me and saying how much fucking better he’d be as my mate!”

You moved from the bench and began to pace the room, huffing and blocking out all outside noises as you continued to rant. “That little rich shitbag thinks he can do all of this over and over again with no consequence, and he thinks that he can just grab me and toss me around like I’m some useless thing! It makes me feel sick and dirty and… argh!”

The two Alphas jumped when you kicked a nearby locker, putting a dent in the shape of your foot in it. “I want to claw his eyes and scratch his smug stupid face! I hate it when he says that he’s gonna ‘show me the ropes’ and fucking claim me as his own when he’s got a whole wife and pups!”

You paused to catch your breath but you couldn’t stop the tears that were burning your eyes from falling. Your back hit the wall and you slid to the floor, cradling your face in your hands.

“I just… what did I do to deserve any of this?”

Your mates rushed to your sides as you cried, Drew holding you to his chest as you let the tears flow. You could feel Drew's heart beat faster and faster and you could feel Roman's heavy breathing on your neck.

The Samoan stood up and looked at your wrecked form, growling. You could see his eyes dilated and flash gold for a second before he turned away from you and unlocked the door, almost ripping it from its hinges as he stormed out with murder on his mind.

“Shane! Where the fuck are you, you bastard?! I’m gonna tear you apart!”

Oh fuck, you though, untangling yourself from Drew and getting up as quickly as you could to follow him. You two scrambled outside to find the wild Alpha and spotted him barreling through anyone who dared to get in his way as he continued to shout.

“Everyone get the hell out of my way! Where’s Shane?! I’m gonna fucking kill him!”

You ran after him, shoving past poor stagehands and other Superstars to get to your angered mate. Reaching him, you took his wrist and spun him around, seeing his eyes blown out to a full gold. His chest heaved with every harsh breath, and you could see veins popping out of his neck from how hard he was clenching his teeth.

“You see? This is why I didn’t tell you in the first place! I didn’t want you to go on a murder-happy fucking rampage and lose your damn job!”

“She’s got a point,” Drew added, firmly grasping Ro’s other wrist. “You need to think!”

He was having none of it. “He hurt my mate, our mate, and that waste of space needs to pay! I’ll find him and rip out his eyes myself.”

It scared you how aggressive he was when he meant it, but you stood your ground. “You’re not the only one who wants to kill that bag of human scum, Roman, but we do have to be smart about this.”

“We can deal with him next week,” you sighed. “Just… just calm down, please.”

No! Now! Get him now!

Drew nodded, agreeing with you and helping you to pull the other man back in the opposite go get the rest of your things even though he continued to try and escape. You smiled to yourself, though, at the thought of the things you were going to do to Vince’s son in the near future.

                                                          ~~~~~

For the next week, your two mates didn’t leave your side for a second, with Roman escorting you out to the ring for your match on SmackDown the next night and Drew acting as your personal bodyguard when the cameras weren’t rolling. They wouldn’t let anyone get near you, growling and baring their teeth at anyone who wasn’t a personal friend who dared to get in your personal space.

Monday came far too soon and the three of you arrived to the arena, game faces on as you waltzed in like your own little pack. They each had an arm around your waist with a hand in each of your back pockets, leering at everyone while you grinned.

Roman and Drew were already planned to have another in-ring bout prior to Extreme Rules, but they wanted to have you out for the main event as support. You already knew that Shane was going to be there, going ringside to cheer the Scotsman on and berate his opponent.

You all had your roles, you all had your positions. Now, it was just time to put it all into play.

As their match was the one to close out the night, you had to deal with hearing Shane’s long introduction when him and Drew went through the curtain. You watched them travel to the ring and you saw the Scottish Alpha’s hand twitch, eager to get his large hands on the man next to him.

Shane continued to rant before you and Roman cut him off, trekking down to the ring to meet him. He swiftly ducked under the ropes as Ro approached him but he smiled at you when he saw you, instantly making you sick to your stomach.

Gripping his elbow, you whispered, “You know what to do, right?”

“Of course I do, baby girl,” he replied, brushing you off. “I got this.”

He smirked at you, climbing up the steps and under the ropes. The bell rang and the match began with the two men locking into each other in the middle of the squared circle, Drew quickly getting Roman into a headlock and bringing him down to one knee.

He managed to shove the larger man off of him and into the ropes to throw his forearm into his clavicle and drop him down with a thud. Roman roared as a “Let’s go, Roman!” chant erupted from the crowds. You applauded him and Shane sneered, creeping closer to the ropes like a rat to freshly tossed food.

The match went on for several minutes, each filled with blows delivered and taken by both Superstars. Drew took a harsh Driveby from Ro on the edge of the ring and you were almost certain that he had been knocked out, had it been for the groan he made when he reached up to rub at his head.

It quickly turned to the Samoan being on the receiving end of most of the blows when Drew landed a nasty Glasgow Kiss to his skull, dropping him like a fly. He dragged the fallen wrestler to the middle of the ring, standing above him menacingly.

“Pin him! What are you doing, man? Just pin him already and get it over with!”

Shane’s loud voice could be heard above all else and you prayed that Roman would get up and walk it off like it was nothing. Instead, Drew chuckled and ducked out of the ring, walking around it to come face to face with the McMahon. As the older Alpha continued to go on and on, your mate threw the fastest right hook you’ve ever seen, making Shane plummet to the floor like a stone in water.

You looked around at the shocked faces of the commentators as well as various members of the WWE Universe, but you didn’t expect the roaring cheer that one move got.

He kneeled down to his level and proceeded to pumble the man further, driving fist after fist and hit after hit into him. You were full-on belly laughing at that point, noting how comical it was to see the once high and mighty Shane McMahon who had cornered you numerous times be put in a similar, vulnerable position.

It was beautiful.

Hearing the newfound commotion, Roman arose from his spot on the ring floor akin to the Undertaker and the crowd went wild once more. He got up and ran to the ropes behind him, bouncing back from them and diving over the set in front of him, Drew moving so he wouldn’t get hit.

Shane’s head struck the ramp below and began bleeding as his face and body grew battered and bruised. The two men towered above him and rained down blows and kicks galore, and you wished you had a phone with you to record the magic happening. They then hooked an arm under one of his and hoisted him up from the ground, looking at you gleefully. 

It was your time to shine, your chance to get your licks in.

“Go on, leannan!” Drew shouted, a wide, wicked smile plastered on his face. “Show this ugly bastard what’s for!”

Roman laughed alongside him. “Show ‘im your spitfire, Omega! Make him pay for what he did to you!”

Make him pay.

You roared, baring your sharpened teeth and charged at the silver-haired man, landing a solid dropkick to the middle of his chest. He fell with an “oof” and laid there like a limp ragdoll, but you weren’t going to let that deter you from having your own fun.

“If you ever-”

Punch.

“-ever-”

Another punch.

“-ever-”

One more for good measure.

“-think about touching me or talking useless crap about my mates again, I will fucking. End. You!”

With every word let out, you let out led to another hit to his body, your feet flying everywhere they could reach. After a solid five minutes of you three tossing him around and beating him to a pulp, you landed a fine tuned pointed-toe kick to his crotch. He crumbled to the ground, clutching his body as you and your mates looked on victoriously.

You could barely hear yourself think over the commotion going on around you, but you didn’t care. You got your payback. You all did and if he tries some shit like that again, you’ll be bound to pay him back again by a ten-fold.

You raced up the ramp to meet your lovers at the head, raising their arms to signal your win against Shane’s bullshit. You felt a weight being lifted off of your chest and you felt relieved for the first time in over a month.

Karma really is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?

                                                         ~~~~~

~~ Tag List: @writinglionqueen @writing-reigns @i-have-saracasm @yaint-me @calum-hoodwinked-me @missmoxy @gold–gucciempress @mistress-to-the-moon@mis @meishaabae @luciddrreamss @neversatisfiedgirl @the-carter-mob-don @aj-mac21 @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans @finnsauroraborealis@tacoshu @ladytea19 @candicelerae @sassybrose @bambixbliss @lookalivesunshine-x @liamakorn @baddie-bismuth @deepdisireslonging@flawlessglamazon @myorlandobloomersareshowing @thegoblin-maiden @justsimplevicky @taryn-dibiase @caramara3 @hardcorewwetrash @shieldgirl18 @demonkingsangel @speckylynch @mondaynightrollynch ~~

If you want to be added to my tag list, shoot me an ask or a DM! ^^

[luvdsc]

hello from the other side (of the screen) 🌸 how have you been?? I hope you’re getting lots of rest and doing fun things when you have the time to!! sorry again for sending in another ask that’s been long overdue, but uni is no fun at all :(( how’s work been? anything new going on?? 🌱 (1/4)

hahaha your sister sounds like someone I’d get along with well in terms of our procrastinating ways 🌼 I’ve just finished two essays but now I have another due next week and another in two weeks 😭😭 but hopefully I’ll get those done soon and it’ll be over and dusted with and I can get back to binging kpop videos 👀👀 (2/4)

(i’m going to answer your ask about my taeyong fic separately for tagging purposes!! 💓)

this has been a much shorter and less detailed ask than I’d like but hopefully the next time I send in an ask I’ll be much freer and have more things to tell you about 🌱 as always have a good week ahead, stay safe and rest loads!! all the best for our work!! we got this 💫💫 sending lots of love ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ - ✨ (4/4)

✿ ✿ ✿

hi hello, my darling!!! 💝 i’ve missed you! i’ve been doing pretty good, just a little tired from work, but we’re pushing through it because only two more days until the weekend 🤩  thank you so much, honey bee 🌸 aaah i’m excited to be able to sleep in over the weekend, and i’m hoping i’ll be able to write then too since i also have monday off for labor day :’) and omg you don’t need to apologize, lovebug! school is important!!!! i’m glad to see that you’re prioritizing it! how are your classes going? are you enjoying them? 💕

asaksjdf my sister is a serial procrastinator, she literally packs her suitcase like two hours before we’re supposed to leave for the airport whenever we travel 🤧 omg you have so many essays :o that’s so intense!!! i hope the topics aren’t too bland or difficult and that you’ll be able to complete them quickly, sweetpea! 💛you got this! you’re gonna write the greatest essays that’ll leave your professors in awe, and then you can watch all the kpop videos you want afterwards ✨

and omg it’s ok, honey bee, i enjoy reading your asks, but please don’t feel obligated to send them in! I hope that your classes will slow down a bit, so you’ll have some time for yourself 🌼 you sound so busy with all your classes, and i hope you’re taking care of yourself also!! your health is more important than classes 🤍 thank you so so much, lovebug! 🥺💗 i hope you’re having a wonderful week as well, and stay safe and get lots of sleep and drink lots of water!!! best of luck with your classes, i’m cheering for you 🌷🌷 and i’m sending back all my love to you, sweetpea 💌💌

[mysteli]

Father Figure (Chris X MC)

A/N: Heya! Another fic for Chris and Aria and this is a prompt suggested by an anon so thank you for that and I hope you enjoy this! ❤️💗💞💕

Prompt: ‘My father said he was a good man, he lied.’

Warning: T

PERMA TAG LIST: @brightpinkpeppercorn​ @cocomaxley@hopefulmoonobject@alesana45@jellybean-marshmellow@mymandrake@regrettingnathan@dobie2112@princesstopgun@mechaspirit@skyila@mind-reader1 @xo-endlessmayhem-xo@sakaily @justboredtrash@regina-and-happiness@flyawayblue56@annekebbphotography@endlessly-searching-for-you@reginasayeed@zigortega4life@christopher-powell @eileendannie@alesana45@diamondoasis@speedyoperarascalparty @indiacater

This fic:

@flowerpowell

Let me know if you wanna be tagged! 💗

Masterlist

Summary: Chris is having trouble adjusting to the second absence of his father and he starts to worry about his ability as a father when the time finally comes?

Chris throws his bag over his shoulder, as he steps into the house that Zack, Kaitlyn, Aria and him had done their best to fix up and decorate. Since they were still having some issues and it’s uncertain if they’ll still live here by the end of the year, Chris is trying to be as optimistic as possible. There is still shit going down with the football team with Manny and Zig but Chris just can’t be bothered right now. Yes, he’s the captain but he’s also a human who deserves time to himself occasionally.

Aria has reminded him countless times that he needs to breathe. To mediate. To calm down. To not allow the stress to take over completely. He’s tried and tried and some of it helped but there’s just too many responsibilities hanging over his shoulder. Too many weights dragging him down. Too many people counting on him and he can’t let them down.

Chris was still recovering mentally and emotionally from the second escape of his father, who showed up with hope to be the father Chris has always dreamed for him to be only to disappoint like he always fucking does. Leaving AJ alone. What a damn mistake. One a father would never make. A rule you think he’d know. But he keeps saying he wants to be a good man but by then, all hope was lost and Chris had to let him go. For good this time. 

As Chris ventures into the house, he takes a second to shut the front door before scanning his surroundings with ease, checking to see if anyone is home. He can’t help but smile widely when he spots his beloved girlfriend, Aria, typing furiously on her laptop and wearing one of Chris’ grey hoodies. She’s definitely been working all day and she seems too focused on the task at hand to even notice Chris.

A lightbulb goes off in his head, as he places his bag down, not so loud that Aria hears him which she doesn’t. He crosses the room until he reaches the armrest of the chair and where Aria’s head rests. He watched the back of her sweetly for a moment, admiring how concentrated she is when she has that solemn look in her eyes.

Caringly, Chris wraps a arm around Aria’s neck, resting his head on her shoulder and kissing her forward sweetly. He can feel her smile at the tenderness of his soothing touch. 

“Hey, you.” Aria mutters in that soft, melodic voice of hers, though a hint of exhaustion lurks in her tone and that tells Chris that she’s been working for a long time.

He kisses the side of her head and smiles weakly. “What’s up, babe?” He asks, scanning the screen of her laptop curiously. 

“Nothing much. I was just writing.” Aria replies, accidentally yawning as she did and Chris just chuckles faintly, massaging his girlfriend’s shoulders comfortingly - hoping to ease her mind a little.

“About what?”

Aria stiffens at the question, almost not wanting to say it out load. Sweat creases her forehead and she tries to hide the awkwardness in her dark eyes, as a tension climbs up her back and causes her to flinch. 

Chris eyes her questioningly. “What?” 

“Nothing. I’m fine. I’m just proofreading something for James.” Aria completely changes her answer from before and there’s suddenly an uneasy sense about her. She releases Chris’ hands from her shoulders and lets them fall to his sides.

“You just said you were writing something.” Chris reminds her, not sure what’s going on. “Ari, why can’t I know what you’re writing about?” He asks while reaching for her laptop to gesture towards the screen but she quickly shuts it and moves it away as she swiftly rises from the couch, keeping her laptop close to her chest.

“More like editing for James then.” Aria changes her lie around again and Chris just rolls his eyes, seeing right through her like a shard of glass.

“Babe... you’re writing something.” He tells her, almost as if he had to enlighten her and Aria remains silent for a moment, struggling to process this entire situation.

“It’s nothing. Really. It’s just... private.” She finally says and not very well, as her voice stutters constantly and she can’t seem to find the right words. 

Chris shrugs his shoulders. “Private? Come on, what’s the big deal?” He enquirers in that oh so convincing and curious tone of his, as he paces over to his girlfriend, searching her eyes for a moment for any sort of answer but all he gets is... nothing.

Aria tenses up again. “...You wouldn’t like it.” 

Chris smirks at that, taking a wary step closer to his anxious girlfriend. He hates it when she’s like this but he can’t help but be slightly amused by how nervous she is. “There isn’t anything you can write that I would not like. You’re an amazing writer and you don’t give yourself enough credit.” He assures, running a hand through his hair and placing his hand behind his head awkwardly. 

Aria’s shoulders slump back and she relaxes slightly. “This isn’t really about my skill as a writer. It’s more the topic that you wouldn’t like.” Aria admits and Chris can tell she’s trying to ease him into something.

Chris just laughs half-heartedly, assuming she’s just having a joke. “Come on, Ari. Just let me read it.” He urges and he notices how her grip on her laptop starts to weaken. He can tell he’s winning.

Aria stiffens, closing her eyes as Chris takes yet another step towards her. “Chris... it’ll hurt you.” She says suddenly and Chris freezes immediately from the confusion suddenly hitting him. He doesn’t even know what’s going on? What the hell is she talking about? “You just... you don’t wanna hear it.” 

“Aria...” He whispers her name so sweetly and that’s all it takes for her to finally relent. Her breaking point has struck. 

Chris relaxes slightly, stopping his features from falling anymore. Aria drops the laptop on the couch hopelessly and gestures for Chris to go and get it. He does, taking a quick glance at his shaking girlfriend, as he opens the laptop. Once the screen comes back on, a Word document appears, revealing that she has clearly been writing something. He scrolls all the way to the top and collapses onto the couch. 

“Babe, I don’t get why you’re so paranoid because this already looks...” Chris trails off when his eyes catch sight of the title of the writing. Bold and obvious in a classic text. Despite all its details, the most clear and painful thing is the words used. 

‘Father Figure’

That could only mean one thing. What else could it have meant? Chris remembers Aria saying those words after he told his dad off and he left. She comforted him and repeated the words ‘Father Figure’ at least a thousand times. She’s definitely had it in her head for a while and Chris suddenly wonders how long she’s been working on this.

Furrowing his brows, he glances at his girlfriend, noticing the awkward and embarrassed look on her face. She’s obviously afraid that he’s gonna get upset about her writing about his private life, especially something as personal as his problems with his father. But it shouldn’t be this difficult to open up to each other. 

“Aria...” Chris begins, unable to form any words. Instead, he starts skimming over the text, reading it as carefully as possible. “...Is this...”

“About your father?” Aria asks and Chris nods blindly. She starts fiddling with her nails and tugging at her hair, twisting a few strands to ease her nerves as Chris suspiciously reads the text. “...Yeah.” 

A moment of silence passes, all that time spent with Chris reading the extract of writing and seeing just how much of his personal life she put in there. Aria isn’t one to just write about someone’s personal life without permission, especially if it’s Chris’. Her damn boyfriend. You think she’d let him know but never mind. 

Chris finally finishes and leans back against the couch, moving the laptop to the side, unable to take another glance at the text. “...You mentioned all of it, huh?” He mutters, breaking the silence like a block of ice. It was almost a desperate move. 

Aria flinches at the question, hiding her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I know I should’ve talked to you about this first but I didn’t and... I feel absolutely terrible. I know how defensive you are when your father is mentioned but... in some way, I thought you’d appreciate it.” Aria tries to apologise but it cut off by the stutter in her own voice. She can’t function properly and she feels tears start to rise in her eyes. 

Noticing, Chris leaps up from the couch and wraps Aria in an embrace, comfortingly stroking her shoulders and roaming his hands up and down her back - trying his best to make his girlfriend feel better. There’s clearly too much pressure on her and she’s been so emotional lately with the all the stress she’s been put through with the house in danger, Chris’ dad showing up and now this. This may just be the tip of the iceberg.

Aria snuggles into Chris’ chest, wiping away her tears the best she can. “...I’m sorry... I just...” 

“No, babe. You don’t gotta explain anything. I get it.” Chris interrupts her by placing a light finger on her lips and titling her chin so she’s staring right into his eyes. She looks absolutely beautiful, even when there’s tears shining in the corners of her deep, brown eyes or sweat creasing the mixed, tan skin. Aria seems surprised that Chris is being so understanding. “I love you and if you wanna write about this stuff, you don’t gotta feel sorry about it. I want you to know everything. Absolutely everything. You’re the most important thing in my life and I want you to feel like you shouldn’t feel guilty about knowing these things about me. Because we love each other and honesty is the key right?” 

Aria almost melts at Chris’ soothing and sweet words, finally feeling able to crack a small smile. She close her eyes and some sobs escape but she doesn’t care. Just ignores them and connects their lips together instead. 

“I love you so much.” 

Chris sighs and smiles, burying his face in Aria’s brunette hair. “I love you too.” 

“You’re pregnant.” The doctor suddenly states and Aria immediately gasps at that, uncertain what to say. She can’t believe it. She can’t fucking believe this. Why now? Why fucking now? She’s in college. She should be focusing on a career and getting her education, not giving birth to an unplanned child. No. No. 

This can’t be happening.

Recently, Aria hasn’t been feeling herself and she has been nauseous these past few weeks. She assumed it was the flu but then it got worse and she forced herself to visit a doctor and now... here she is - in the middle of a crisis. Having just found out that she’s going to have a child. 

Well, Damnit.

“...Are you sure?” Aria asks, shaking like a leaf.

The doctor gestures to the file on his clipboard. “Yes. You wanna know why?” 

“...No.”

“Because it says so here. Don’t blame the blood tests.” The doctor says in a strict tone. This doctor hasn’t been the friendliest and is definitely in a bad mood. “I’ll give you a minute.”

The doctor exits the room, leaving Aria with a crumbled state of mind and left to contemplate the situation all by herself. This is crazy. It can’t be real. She has to be dreaming. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

Come on, just breathe.

God... what’s Chris gonna say?

Later, Aria sits alone in her room, fiddling with her fingers and having been in deep thought since she got back from the hospital. Her main concern being on telling Chris, which she knows she needs to do. Today, matter of fact. Or she’ll regret it. Chris is the type of guy to understand. He always understands because he’s amazing. He’s generous. He’s kind. He’s loyal. He’s a family kind of guy. But he also has a future.

And they did not plan for a baby.

Not this soon.

Truth is, Aria is terrified - frozen to her very core. She can’t deal with this. It hurts her so much. It kills her and she knows this child will interrupt their entire lives. Aria is so busy all the time and never going to be able to take care of this kid. And that’s what scares her. She knows Chris will push aside everything to be with a family but... Aria doesn’t want him to give it all up for her. 

Suddenly, the door to her bedroom creaks open and Chris peaks his head in curiously. Aria glances up, startled slightly when she spots Chris. She attempts to act nonchalant but her nerves bounce off her like a boomerang - flying back at Chris.

“Hey, babe. Zack’s making cookies if you want any.” Chris asks, stopping with his offer when he notices the tears in Aria’s eyes. He gathers her in his arms and rocks her gently, keeping his attention on his girlfriend and consoling her. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

Aria pours out her heart and soul in that moment, not wanting to hold anything back. “Chris... I love you so much and I want you to know that because what I’m about to tell you might... scare you.” Aria warns him, snuggling into his chest and he leans back slightly when he hears her words, furrowing his brows in bewildered manor. 

“Ari... you saying that is scaring me. Tell me what’s going on.” He urges, slightly afraid now about what she might say. Aria takes a moment to gather herself, summoning all the courage that remains in her heart, placing her hand on her stomach and exhaling softly.

“Chris... I’m pregnant.” 

Chris gasps immediately but not as much as you’d expect. His bites down on the right side of his mouth and attempts to compose himself, rubbing his eyebrows in a confused manor.

“H-How did that even happen?” Chris questions, not sure what else to even ask.

Aria closes her eyes. “I don’t know.”

Concern floods Aria’s eyes as Chris starts to tremble slightly, struggling to find any words to react with. “But we’ve never not used...”

“I know but...”

“Then how the hell did this...”

“Chris.” Aria says his name rather firmly, placing a hand on his arm and attempting to calm him. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

Chris stays silent for a moment, staring at the floor with his ocean blue eyes. “I... I don’t know what to say. This almost seems... too soon. Don’t you think?” He suggests and Aria’s face falls at his words. “I mean... you have a future to worry about. We both do and a kid just doesn’t seem like...”

Aria rests her forehead against his and looks him dead in the eyes. “I know that’s not what you’re really worrying about.” She states, as if she can read his mind and she can see right though him.

Chris relents almost immediately, knowing he can’t lie to her. She’s everything to him. She knows everything about him and she could spot him from a mile away, recognise him in any crowd.

“...Guess I’m thinking about my father.” Chris is slightly surprised that is his first thought after having just found out that he’s gonna be a father himself. Why would he think of his own father first? “Damnit. This is stupid. You’re having my kid and I’m here thinking about...”

Aria cups his face and runs a hand through his messed up hair, which was obviously caused by exertion from football practise. “Your skills as a father. That’s what you’re worrying about. Because you care.” 

Chris releases a heavy sigh, thankful that she doesn’t think he’s being completely ridiculous. “...I love you so much and I... I want this kid with you. I do. I really do.” He pauses, sucking in a sharp breath and holding back a few tears. “But my father said he was a good man... and he lied. What if I can’t be mean it when I say it?” 

Aria plants a few soft kisses on Chris’ lips, letting them linger for extra encouragement and Chris sinks into her touch, staying completely silent and still. “You will mean it because I know... you’re gonna be an amazing father. You’re the man that your father tried so hard to be and his mistakes came back for revenge. But you. You’re a fighter and you’re gonna fight through these doubts and learn one day... you’re always gonna being telling the truth when you say you’re a good dad. Even if you never say it aloud... I’ll do it for you.” Aria assures, biting down on her lower lip and sinking her teeth into the chapped flesh. Her nerves are hitting her now. That Chris’ silence means that he can’t do this and he’s gonna have to leave.

But instead, his response is music to her ears.

“Then let me be the father mine neve  was. We’re gonna work through this.” Chris whispers with determination, wrapping Aria in a hug and forming a weak smile as his head rests against her shoulder.

“I know.” is all she says in return, savouring this moment.

“By the way... was that book about my father... or me?” Chris suddenly questions and Aria pulls away with a bright smile on her face. 

“Well, the book was about crap fathers so I’d say anyone besides you.” 

[screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse]

so i have a question, and it might be somewhat of a loaded one, and i don't mean to be negative or anything, but since you managed to become a pretty big blog i would like to hear your take on it if you feel comfortable answering. i am a content creator, have been for a long while, and i know no one deserves likes or anything if their work isnt good enough, and one should do what they do because they love it and not because of other people, and i do, but it is extremely discouraging to put (1)

hard work into something you are passionate about to come back to a blog with 0 followers and have no notes on your posts that no one ever gets to see even if you tag it right. especially since what i do is what i eventually wanted to be doing as a living, it's somewhat hard to come to terms with that you simply aren't good enough even after years of practice and creating your content, since no one seems to want your work and creating for yourself alone is still nice, but simply not the same (2)

(3) if you dont get to share it. so i would like to hear opinion, as someone who made it: at what point would you personally say it stops being worth it? i sincerely hope this doesn't make you uncomfortable, i know it might not be an easy thing to answer and like i said, i didn't mean to dump any unnecesarry negativity onto you, so i am sincerely sorry if i did.

First off: I 100% get where you’re coming from, and while this is a subject that I think all content creators and artists struggle with — both in answering to themselves and others — I guess we all feel a bit uncomfortable discussing it, but I think we should! So this is certainly a heavier topic than I expected to be talking about this fine Tuesday night, but here we are. Warning: this is gonna get long, because tomorrow’s a federal holiday and my bedtime is literally never.

Art’s supposed to be this grand purpose onto itself: artists get bullied for asking proper prices for commissions, brands want to pay content creators in ‘exposure,’ and art constantly gets reposted because, eh, anyone could’ve cobbled that together.

But here’s the ungarnished truth: art is wonderful and makes its creators, at best, happy and warm and fuzzy around the heart, but creating alone neither pays the rent nor makes the algorithms love us. And that’s the thing right there — social media algos are not kind to creators. Any recommendation engine deals in what is a) fresh or b) already successful; sometimes both if a post circulates fast. If you’ve been featured once, you’re more likely to get featured again. Also: original art may get passed over for fanart a lot. Kinda depends what genre you’re in and whether you’re fandom-adjacent.

To answer your question as to when it stops being worth it: the idealistic answer is, NEVER, because the moment will come. It won’t come looking for you, though. You gotta keep looking for it, and I know that that’s some fresh hot bullshit to hear when you’re having a bad day. So, I’m sorry, but that’s my answer: don’t give up. Instead, keep coming at the problem from different angles, and in different ways. (More under the cut because LONK.)

While I wouldn’t say I’m a super big blog in Dishonored terms, I do have one example of ‘making it.’ I was in the right place at the right time when the Skyfall fandom stamped itself out of the ground. That’s where like 60% of my mutuals come from — from six years ago; and I’m convinced a few of these dinguses just forgot how the unfollow button works lol. Anyway: the fandom was large, it was young, and it was hungry for content. Also — mostly teenagers, so LOTS of time and energy. My works were among the first ten in the archive on AO3, so it snowballed from there.

My somewhat longwinded point is: I got lucky in gaining that first chunk of attention. But I also worked at it — I responded to any comments I got, I interacted with everyone who came to my blog, and with other people in the tag.

I started posting my Dishonored fics on AO3 in March ‘17, but it took a few months before a significant amount of conversation started happening (beyond the AO3 comment section), and it took nearly a year before I started regularly getting messages, and really started talking to people on discord, for instance. That’s because I’d entered an established fandom, so the ‘rules,’ as it were, were different. In marketing, we’d say the competition was higher.

Of course we’re not supposed to think of other artists as competition — and I don’t, but perhaps that’s because I can afford not to.

Here are a few dumb realities of posting art/content on tumblr:

sometimes you work on something for months and it gets three notes

and then you do a dumb shitpost (my vid of that dude in doto vaping his sword, anyone?) and it gets aalll the attention (just barely any new followers)

unless you go and talk to people, they’re not going to be aware of you as a creator unless you pump out super polished material every gd day

art reblogs more easily than writing, but reblogs don’t get you followers until you post consistently — and even then the like to reblog ratio is a bit of an insult

it's somewhat hard to come to terms with that you simply aren't good enough even after years of practice and creating your content, since no one seems to want your work

If I may — I know that the old tumblr saying “notes don’t define the value of your work” is often used to tell creators to stop complaining when a work doesn’t get as many notes as they’d hoped. And look — I’ve been working on a six-part fic series for 18 months now. I’m on Part 5, and it’s been a game of diminishing returns. Hits have gone down proportionately, there’s more comments now than kudos. So I know exactly that there’s a relatively small group of people who’re still sticking with me on this, and a lot more people who noped out at some point. Not always because they stopped enjoying it; usually it’s simply a question of time and the series getting seriously fucking long. It’s a monster, and I’m well aware. I don’t begrudge anyone who stopped reading along at some point. But it does smart because in the end all of us have a bit of an ego, and that’s where the badger’s buried.

The badger being that you mention twice that you believe not getting the attention you’d hoped for means that your work isn’t good enough — I know that feel. BUT: I don’t believe that. I don’t know what kind of content you’re creating, but I personally know excellent artists and writers whose work deserves to be seen and admired, who do not get the visibility they hope for — consistently. (Until they make a shitpost, which then suddenly blows up, and they’re like, WTF where were you all ten hours ago??)

It’s just that people don’t check the tags (anymore) and simply rely on their feed and the reco algorithm to bring them shit they’ll like.

What I’m trying to — very clumsily — say is: please don’t stop creating. Keep talking to people (you’re welcome to chat to me off anon — and if we already know each other, then, well, don’t I feel like an asshole) to get more followers and to make people aware of you as a creator. Until then, always be practising, and keep working on your skills.

Also: I think what should be a thing is that bigger blogs should reblog smaller blogs more, and I’m including myself in this. I don’t have a ton of time, so I mostly reblog stuff from people I know, if I happen to see it at the time or if it’s shared with me. But like, promos used to be a thing, maybe we should make those a thing again?? So it’s less down to fucking luck and more to people actually sharing common interests.

I hope that this helps, anon, in some way. As I said, I don’t know what kind of content you create and how you interact with other blogs, so I’ve tried to make this as broad as I could without going on for hours. These are just my fandom experiences and feelings as a creator, and it’s going to be different for everyone who makes things and shares those things online. I sincerely hope that you’ll catch that break that you’ve been waiting for, and if you ever need a place to vent, my inbox (and my discord) is always open. I’ve got your back.

[riverdale-is-just-okay]

An English Rose

Jughead x OC

Word Count: 2278

Summary: There’s a new student at Riverdale High. She’s from a wealthy background as she’s the daughter of a big shot, British businessman. Jughead’s not happy, given his history and past dealings with people like Lodges. So he’s not very trusting of the new girl, but Lottie is determined to prove that she’s more than just her privileged background.

Warnings: Nope, don’t think so

A/N: So I’m English and I thought this might an interesting idea to explore and why not show Jughead some love. This story might just be a one off, I’m not sure if I can develop it further, it might be crap, I don’t know. Let me know what you think. Anyway, hope you like it!

Tag List: @lolabean1998 (just let me know if you wanted to be added to the tag list for any of my stories).

"Another Veronica, great," Jughead mumbles from his position on the couch in the student lounge.

"Who is?" Kevin asks.

"That girl, the one stood with Betty." He directs the boy's attention to the pair, stood talking by the door. The blonde was stood with a tall, dark haired girl dressed in a light blue skater dress and pristine white heels.

"Oh, heard she's related to royalty," Kevin says with a big smile.

"Not every British person is connected to royalty." Cheryl rolls her eyes.

"What we talking about?" Veronica sits down on the spare couch, Archie by her side.

"The new girl." Toni says with her eyes on the door.

"Stop staring." Cheryl playfully bats her girlfriends arm.

"So have we heard?"

"Kev, thinks she's a princess," Toni mocks.

"What?"

Jughead scoffs. "She's a princess all right."

"Please explain."

"Jug thinks she's another y-" Kevin's words are silenced by a dramatic cough from Jughead.

"So," Toni starts. "As far as we know she's from England, a daughter of some rich businessman."

"So what is she doing in Riverdale then?"

"That's where our trail of information runs cold."

"Well let's find out. As much fun as this speculation of the mystery girl is, I'd much prefer some actual facts." She stands up. "Betty?” she calls. The girl walks over, followed by the topic of the group’s conversation.

"Hi, guys," she says. "This Charlotte, she come all the way from England." She smiles excitedly.

"You can just call me Lottie."

"Well, Lottie, it is a pleasure to meet you." Veronica offer her hand. "I'm Veronica Lodge."

She accepts. "It's lovely to meet you too, Veronica."

"This is Archie Andrews." She points to the redhead still seated.

"Hi."

"Hello."

"And Kevin Keller, Toni Topaz, Cher-"

"I'm Cheryl Blossom." The girl stands.

"Since we're using full names - I'm Charlotte James." She laughs nervously.

"Oh and that's Jughead," Veronica says pointing to the pouting boy in the corner.

"Jughead?” Lottie questions unsure whether she's being tricked or not.

"Yeah, problem?"

"Not at all. It's lovely to meet you." She looks back to the bulk of the group. "All of you."

"Sit, please, we have questions." Veronica takes her seat by her boyfriend. Betty takes the spare seat next to Kevin.

"You do?" Lottie sits besides Jughead, the only open seat. She smiles to the boy, but his head remains down as his attention goes back to his laptop.

"Yes-"

"They think you're a princess," Jug spits not looking up.

Veronica rolls her eyes at the boy.

"Not a princess, sorry to disappoint. But I have met the Queen."

"Really?" Kevin perks up.

"No." Lottie giggles.

"Oh,” he says defeated.

"So you're from England?"

"I am. Manchester to be exact.  My father's name is Robert James, the notorious businessman and CEO and founder of James Industries. The company has expanded and my dad wanted to follow it over to keep an eye on it. And as I am a minor I came along too. And I think that is everything." She smiles. "Oh, wait, the company is fairly run with no criminal or under the table dealings. I am not a mob daughter," she laughs nervously.

They stare blankly at the girl. Then they all look to Veronica.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Let's just say, my family has a shady history when it comes to business."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Not at all. It's over now. And I'm sure Riverdale will happily welcome a wholesome family business with open arms."

"Thank you. Actually, my father's throwing a party this evening. A business thing to smoosh associates. But if you're free, it would be nice if you all could came. Keep me from being bored to death."

"We would love to!" Veronica beams. "We'll be there."

"Sounds great," Betty says.

"Perfect."

Jughead just rolls his eyes.

"I'm not going," Jughead says between chews of his burger. He sits in the cafeteria with Archie and Veronica opposite him and Betty by his side.

"And why not?" Veronica sighs.

"Come on, Jug.” Archie nudges his friend. "Could be fun."

"Fun? How is being in stuck in a room with a load of stuffy suits gonna be fun?"

"We can dress up..." Betty offers.

"More reason to stay home.”

“Do you always have to suck the fun out of everything, Jughead?” Veronica rolls her eyes. “We are all going and that is that.”

“Just think of the food,” Betty whispers. Now that’s how you persuade him to do something.

“Wow,” Betty whispers as the group steps into the oversized lounge. “This place-”

“Puts the Pembroke to shame?” Jughead finishes.

“Excuse me?” Veronica eyes widen.

“He’s got a point, V.” Archie shrugs. “This place-”

“Is incredible,” Betty says, sticking her tongue out at Jughead, finally able to finish her statement.

“Whatever, let’s find Lottie.” Veronica steps forward. “She must be here someone.”

“Amongst all the middle aged men and trophy wives,” Jughead spits.

“I’m suddenly feeling under dressed.” V smooths her black fitted dress.

“You’re feeling under dressed?” Toni tugs out short plaid skirt, pulling it further down her fish net wrapped legs.

“You look beautiful, Cha Cha.” Cheryl wraps her arm around the girl’s waist.

“And we’re still not over that nickname?”

“Never.” Cheryl winks.

“Well, you look sensational as always.” She looks the girl, dressed in a classic red dress, up and down.

“Maybe we should go?” Betty says nervously.

“We got Jug in a tie, we’re not wasting this.” Archie shakes his head.

“Hiya,” Lottie calls walking up to the others. She seems to just have appeared from nowhere. The pale pink, strapless bodice hugs her upper body and the full skirt swishes as she walks, the longer train trails behind as she crosses the room. “You guys came,” she smiles.

“Of course.”

“You look beautiful,” Betty says.

“I’ve already tripped over this three times,” she laughs. “You all look amazing.” Her eyes fall to Toni. “I love your jacket.” She tilts her head. “Is the snake symbolic?”

“She’s a Serpent,” Cheryl says proudly.

“A Serpent?”

“That’s for another day.” Veronica steps forward taking hold of Lottie’s arm. “Your apartment is gorgeous.”

“Thank you, drinks everyone?”

"Jughead?" The boy looks up to see Lottie smiling down at him. "May I?" She points to space on the couch beside him. He shrugs. "Okay." She sits. "Are you all right?"

"Fine."

She nods. "Why are you sat here on your own?"

"I'm eating."

"I can see that." She's silent for a minute. She stares forward fiddling with her fingers. "You don't like me very much do you?"

"I don't not like you."

"Well, something is wrong. You've been sitting here with a face like a smacked arse all night."

"You been watching me all night?"

"I took a few breaks, but you're pretty hard to miss."

"I didn't want to come."

"Then why did you?"

"My friends made me."

"Right. You don’t have your own mind?” He’s quiet. “Well, I'll leave you to sulk, shall I? Because I am getting the feeling I am the problem." She smiles, then stands.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I've not had great experiences with people like you."

"People like me?"

"Rich-"

"You think I'm a rich bitch?" she laughs. "There's no need to answer that. People always assume. I'm from money so I must be a selfish, narcissistic, ignorant cow. I've been surrounded by people like that my whole life. And I don't like them either, that's why I try my very best not be that. But clearly I have failed if you think that little of me. Have a nice evening, Jughead." She shakes her head and walks away.

"I'm from the Southside of town," Jughead says standing behind Lottie's shoulder. She turns to face him, excusing herslef from the conversation in was in with two of her father’s associates. "My whole family have been dumped on by well to do people. My home, my dad's job, my life even have been stolen by wealthy business people."

"Your life?"

"I almost lost it because of a power crazed mobster."

“Maybe you can tell me about it, your life, one day and I can tell you about mine. I’m more than just money, be nice you show you that.”

"I've just had bad experiences with people who have money."

"I understand. But maybe give me a chance to prove I'm different. Despite this-" She gestures to the ostentatious surroundings of the party. "Maybe I can stop you pouting in the corner and putting a dampen on the party."

"It really did seem to be swinging until I turned up."

"Exactly, it needs all the help it can get." She looks over her shoulder, then back to Jughead. "So are you gonna give me that chance?" she asks.

"I don't think I need to," he smiles. "I've been kinda shit and you're still being nice."

"I'd still like that chance." She offers her hand. He accepts and he's pulled through a door. The music and chatter slowly grows quiet as they walk through a long hallway. "In here." She gestures him into a large room with a cream carpet and walls, a large bed positioned in the centre and mahogany side tables and dresser and a over-sized chandelier hangs from the ceiling.

"This is your room?"

"Yes, why?"

"It's bigger than my whole trailer."

"Oh. I could find a smaller room..."

"Got a closet?"

She laughs nervously.

"Joking."

"Of course. Sit, please." She points to the bed, then walks to the dresser pulling off her heels. "Thank God, my feet are killing," she smiles to the boy, who just watches her. "Truthfully I'm not a big fan of parties either.  That's why I invited you all, thought it would be a little bit less hellish if I had some friendly faces. They seem to be enjoying themselves."

"It's more their scene, than mine. But you didn't really invite me."

"I did." She walks over to him. "I invited all of you. I wanted you all to come."

"Really?"

"Yes. Why?" She sits beside him. "Why wouldn't I want you to come?"

"I'm more of an after thought, an addition to them."

"Want to know a secret?" she whispers. "I wanted you to come the most."

"You did?"

"Yeah. What can I say, the odd, loner boy absorbed in his laptop, who clearly did not like me, intrigued me." She shrugs.

"I could get offended by that."

"Is any of it untrue? Exactly." She laughs. “Although, I shouldn't assume, seeing as I told you off for doing that.” She dramatically flops flat down to the bed, her top half hanging off the edge. She fusses about, sits back up holding onto a bottle of champagne with a grin on her face..

"Most teenagers hide Vodka..."

"Drink?"

"I'm good."

"Most teenagers accept."

"I don't drink. My father's an alcoholic."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"He's sober now. He's doing well, almost six months. He's really turning it all around."

"I'm glad to hear that." She puts the bottle to the floor. "My mother was killed by a drunk driver," she says. "You don't have to say anything. It's okay. I just... you shared something difficult with me. I thought I'd do the same. I meant what I said, I’d like to know about your life. Maybe I can explain my family wasn’t always this way. My dad worked hard to get where he is, he did it on his own. And he didn't do it by tearing down or destroying others.”

“Tell me,” he says.

She nods, then takes a deep breath. “My father is the... greatest man I know. He’s so strong and brave and resilient. I was quite young when my mother died. But I could still see how much it broke him. How much he wanted to just fall apart, to give in to it all. But he didn’t. He managed to pull himself out of bed each day and keep going. Because he knew I needed him. He was strong for me. He took care of me.  He did everything to make me happy, feel safe and loved. He worked hard to repair our life, to get all of this. He kept the business going so he could give me a good life. And our life now is the result of nothing, but hard work, commitment, determination and love. Now I’m old enough, we keep each other from collapsing even when it feels like the only option, we manage to hold each other up.”

Jughead stares at her in silence. He didn’t take her eyes of her for the entirety of her speech. He doesn’t want to speak, he wants to hug her, feel her close to him. So he does. He pulls her into a hug and she accepts wrapping her arms around him tightly.

Then there's a knock at the door. “Lottie?” She pulls herself out of Jughead’s arms and hops off the bed, quickly makes her way to open the door. Her new friends greet her on the other side.

"Hello?"

“Finally,” Kevin sighs.

“We’ve already tried six rooms already.” Betty smiles.

"Room for a few more." Veronica raises her eyebrow to Jughead sat nervously on the bed.

"Of course. Bored already?"

"Only so many times you can hear old men talk about... what were they talking about again?" She turns to Archie.

“Data something...” He shrugs.

She laughs. "Come in." She gestures and the group piles in, all giving the eye to Jughead. Lottie pauses by the door. She smiles to him. He smiles back. Maybe this English Rose isn't as bad as he once thought.

A/T: Thank you for reading, hope you liked it, thought I’d expand and try writing with a different character. It means the world that you take time to read my work.

A/A/T: Also, if you’ve got any ideas for future stories or characters you want to just let me know.

Thanks again, all my love,

Oli x

*main blog: a-girl-stuck-in-a-fantasy-world

[freckledskittles]

Reibert Secret Santa 2017: Bathtime

Happy Holidays to @thecolossustitan!!! I hope you enjoy this rather dorky story. The prompts you gave me were absolutely heartwarming, and I hope I did a decent job of including as many as I could!

“You’re out of popcorn.”

Bertholdt was hardly surprised to walk into his apartment and find Annie sprawled on the couch, quietly chomping on popcorn and intensely watching the television. An episode of “The Office” was on, one he had seen countless times and one that had probably taken zero effort to access with his Netflix. Unfortunately, with all the stress his life had accumulated, if someone in his friend group was watching a show like that without a head’s up, it was not a cause for celebration.

“Hi, Annie,” he sighed and shuffled a load of groceries into the kitchen. Marco, his roommate, gave a more jovial greeting as he followed behind him. On the TV, the insufferable regional manager was acting as a former criminal and talking about how terrible prison was. “Is it Reiner, me, or miscellaneous?”

“None of your business.”

Bertholdt rolled his eyes; miscellaneous it was, then. Once the groceries were away, Bertholdt went to the living room and sat beside Annie, the popcorn bowl between them. Marco had offered to prepare dinner and shooed him away. “Did you break in or use the key this time?”

“The key.” She tugged on the sleeve of her shirt. “I was too distraught to kick your door down.”

“Is it about the Secret Santa?” Even though a good number of their friend group didn’t have any reason to celebrate Christmas, the twelve of them used it as a way to appreciate and spend time with one another.

Annie leaned back and let her head hit the back of the sofa. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you can guess who I got.”

Well. That narrowed the search down by a tiny margin and then some. “Seriously?” Bertholdt leaned back beside her as she nodded with a grimace. Just her luck to get the person she had been crushing on since the start of college. For Annie to find anyone appealing or worthy of her presence was enough of a compliment, but to receive affection in a romantic way was rare. He could only name a handful of people who had succeeded, whether they knew it or not. And a mutual friend was just another addition to that shortlist.

“My life is a disaster.”

“At least you know what to get her.”

Annie scowled and punched his shoulder. “Don’t try and make this better for me, jerk. I’m still in mourning.”

He was more than sure that it didn’t quite work like that, but he didn’t argue with her and, instead, took back what he had said. “You don’t have to worry about keeping it a secret, because you’re already keeping your crush from her.”

Annie chose a new episode—in this one, the office employees participated in beach games to become the next boss. “Why couldn’t we have done ‘Yankee Swap’ or ‘naughty Santa’ or whatever the fuck it’s called?”

Marco hopped into the room with a friendly smile and an apology for interrupting their conversation on his face. “Annie, are you staying for dinner?” He asked. “We just got a new bottle of wine to try.”

The blonde let out a long sigh and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Sorry about your Secret Santa.”

“Thanks.” She said it with a snort and an eyeroll, but she showed her appreciation in laughing quietly at his jokes during dinner and washing the dishes afterwards. They weren’t close, but ever since he had started rooming with Bertholdt, they interacted more and were quite friendly with each other. Not to mention that Marco knew the perfect remedy to cheer anyone up, and he set up Mario Kart after dinner for some competitive driving. Bertholdt sat on the couch behind them and commented on both of their driving styles, even though his Secret Santa was just as much on his mind.

Buying a gift wasn’t his main concern—after all, Jean had been dropping hints about what he wanted since before they chose names—but he always got anxious over who had his own name. There had been one year they had nixed picking out names and just got a gift in general, and everyone had been unsatisfied and ended up selling the gifts and just cooking food for each other. Selling a pack of thongs was not what he had in mind, however, and three years later, he always hoped that it never returned there.

The next day, he and a childhood friend, Marcel, met up for coffee to catch up and chat. They usually grouped up—Bert with Reiner and Annie, and Marcel with his younger brother Porco tagging along—but they always made an effort to see each other outside of the group. Marcel enjoyed watching the crowd pass by and had picked a table by the window, two coffees in front of him. When Bertholdt walked in, he was met with a grin and a wave.

“Took you long enough,” Marcel teased. “I almost chugged your coffee.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t get both of these for yourself,” Bertholdt shot back. He took a sip of his drink and was relieved to discover that it still had some heat to it. “How’s Porco?”

Marcel snorted past his coffee. “You should already know, Bert. Still stingy and passive-aggressive.”

“At least he’s true to himself.”

“Yeah, too much. A little bird told me you got your Secret Santa for your troupe of friends.”

Bertholdt kicked Marcel under the table. “You know Annie hates when you use bird puns. And yeah, we did. She ended up getting her crush.”

“No way, the Mikasa Ackerman?!” Marcel threw his head back and cackled. A few other patrons of the shop looked at him in alarm and disapproval. “What irony! She must be dying.”

“I think she’ll be okay. This is sorta her chance to actually face her instead of avoiding her.”

Marcel smirked wide and mischievous, a look Bert had seen countless times during their childhood. Before he could bring it up, however, the topic changed. “So you have your gift planned out already?”

Although he wasn’t fond of the change in conversation, he accepted it and moved on. “Yeah, Jean’s not that difficult,” he said. “He doesn’t want anything that’s not Kit-Kats, so the candy rule is covered. And Sasha’s been talking about how much he wants a stuffed Cubone, but she’s never gotten him, and she teams up with Connie for birthdays, so they always find something better. So I’m doing everyone a favor and ending her pleas and bribes.”

“Ah, a chivalrous man, you are. Is that all you’re doing for him?”

The coffee burned his tongue on the next sip, and Bertholdt shrugged. “We roomed together in college, and we’re alike enough to where I have no worries if he’ll like it or not. If it’s sentimental and refers back to something he likes, then he’ll be okay. Bonus points if it’s a surprise.”

The smirk from before appeared again. “And you’re the same way?”

“I guess, yeah.” That was an understatement, maybe, but he supposed it was true. It was true for anyone. But that wasn’t the point Marcel was trying to make. He turned them towards a new conversation, with a sudden recollection. “By the way, have you heard from Reiner this week?”

Marcel paused to toy with the hand protector and waved his hand in a so-so gesture. “On and off. He texted me about some family things, something with his cousin Gabi? But that’s all I got.”

Bertholdt frowned. He had ended up just as empty-handed as he had when he asked within their friend group. “I heard the same thing. He hasn’t answered anyone I’ve texted. It’s weird.”

“Huh.” He tapped his finger on his chin and leaned forward. Something inside Bert told him to watch his eyes, and he noticed how they strayed from his and looked at every other aspect of the coffee shop that wasn’t him. Strange. “He’s either dead or he’s in a coma.”

“Annie shares an apartment with him. I think she would know where he is.”

“I dunno, man. I’m sure he’ll text you tomorrow though! He’s not your best friend for nothing.”

Bertholdt eventually got a text, with family issues over “who’s gonna host Christmas dinner” and struggling to get the dog to the vet while Gabi battled a cold, and relief flooded over him. Reiner planned a gym day together over the weekend, though much to his dismay, the conversation focused on Secret Santa more than anything else.

“Good thing we both got easy gifts this year,” Reiner stated. He had challenged them to a race on the treadmill and had been running for a good while. Thankfully, there were only a few people at the gym. Bertholdt would have preferred to stay in bed a few more hours, but Reiner’s early-to-rise persona and thoughtfulness was a worthy substitute. “Otherwise, I’d be stressed out.”

“Eren wants the same thing every year,” Bertholdt said, and Reiner laughed. “He just doesn’t say it outright.”

“But Mikasa will.”

“Because she doesn’t stand for his bullshit.”

“You should know, right?” The blond looked over at him and winked. “You don’t stand for mine. I got you all figured out, Hoover.”

Maybe not entirely—Bert had been interested in Reiner for a while now and had never found the courage to speak out about it—but he let his friend have his fun in believing otherwise. “My dastardly plan has been foiled. Next thing you’ll be doing is figuring out my Christmas gift for you.”

“Some stickers off of Redbubble and a giant pack of Reese’s pieces.” The silence was enough of an answer, and Reiner stopped his run to beam at the taller and bat his eyes. “I thought you were the mystery turtle that no one could figure out.”

Bertholdt slowed down and gripped either side of the treadmill. “I still am. You don’t know what my favorite Pixar movie is.”

“WALL-E.”

“Okay, fine, I’m losing my touch.”

Reiner cackled and, once they grabbed their waters and started heading over to the weights, threw an arm over Bert’s shoulder. “All that sweating might have washed it off.”

“Keep talking and you can walk home.”

x-x-x

Their Secret Santa party for the 24th. Annie had dragged Bertholdt around to look for the perfect gift—“not everyone can get a Pokemon and Kit-Kats, you idiot”—and their searching led to more dead ends than successes. But by the time the day rolled around, she had solved her problem with creativity and perfection, and Bertholdt was relieved. All he had to do was wrap his gifts up, even putting a decorative bow around the Cubone’s neck.

The party was at Sasha and Historia’s apartment, already an interesting pair of roommates, especially since Connie and Ymir spent so much time there, but they were excellent hostesses. Historia twirled around the room and passed out appetizers and drinks to everyone, conversing with anyone nearby, and Sasha kept the night going with fun games and running the music.

“You know,” Sasha said as the group of twelve gathered around the living room to pass out gifts, “I gotta say, I think we knocked it out of the park with gifts this year.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Eren cried out. “We haven’t even started yet!”

Historia did the honors of passing out the presents, though a comparison to the fiasco last year made it easy to surpass. (He was positive everyone was still embarrassed by the stunt Ymir and Reiner had done, no matter how much they blamed their drunkenness on it.) It was enjoyable to spend time with friends and laugh, as well as watch the enjoyment spread on their faces at opening their gifts. Ymir got flustered at the astronomy and space book she opened up, clutching it to her chest protectively and using it to block the thankful smiles she sent Armin. A good laugh was shared when Connie opened up Marco’s gift, a “cookbook for adults,” as the title proclaimed, and they read off a few of the suggested recipes. And Jean stayed silent in shock for a good minute when he opened his gift, shyly holding the stuffed Cubone and eating a Kit-Kat.

When Mikasa was handed her gift, she cocked her head at the interesting shape. “It looks like the Gherkin in London,” she observed, poking softly at the egg-like figure.

“Because you’re a good egg,” Sasha pointed out. Everyone agreed.

Underneath the wrapping paper was an egg. “Or because it is an egg.” There was a bow on the top keeping everything closed, and she twisted it off so that the shell “cracked” and fell apart, as if made of paper. Inside was a bowl with two movies she had been wanting to see for a while, tickets for one still in theaters, and a plethora of paper cranes. The largest one was the most beautiful, with crisp folds and a flawless form. It truly was a sight to see, as simple as it may have been, and Mikasa smiled. It wasn’t very hard to guess her Secret Santa: there were only a few people left, and Annie had been trying to pull her hoodie back on and hide in it ever since it had been opened.

Bertholdt was next. He took the box with suspicion and looked around the semi-circle. “If it’s a pack of thongs, I’m unfriending all of you,” he warned to their laughter. It was a partial joke, in that he wouldn’t actually unfriend them, but there would be some raising of Hell.

There was a mumble of “I hope it’s a g-string” “or a b-string” from Sasha and Connie, but nothing further as he unwrapped the present. It was neither of those things, and it wasn’t a pack of thongs either. It was something that was either much worse or much better; once he saw it, he was hard to get a grasp on it.

“LoveBoat Bubble Bath Set?”

The room instantly filled with a combination of laughter and confusion on what that meant. From beside him, Eren reached over and lifted the artsy tag from inside the box. “‘Three-set bubble bath soap and essential oils,’” he read, and a smirk flashed on his face. “Someone wants to get saucy with Bert!”

“Oh my god.”

Annie, who had recovered from her burrowing, pointed to a fallen scrap of paper on the floor. “What’s that?”

Bertholdt picked it up and read it. The words “a free coupon for a bubble bath party with me” were not what he had in mind. Saying them out loud only made it worse. Any other time, he would probably have joined the chorus of amusement filling the room, but this was happening to him, which meant there was nothing remotely funny about it.

And there Reiner was, sitting directly across from him, sporting a shit-eating grin and a pair of lightly flushed cheeks. He was simply grinning, fingers curled and pressed against his lips. It answered everything for Bert. And then he couldn’t hold back the smile and laugh.

It was a confession, without explicit mention, but with a request to join him in a bubble bath. There really was nothing like it.

The group finished handing out gifts and dispersed to help set up for dinner. Bertholdt was on table-setting duty and walking between the kitchen and table when he nearly ran into Reiner. The blond, instantly blushing, smiled to brush past him, but they moved the same way. Nervous laughter came from both of them—something usual for Bert, but rare from his friend.

“Uh, hi,” Reiner said. He hopped lightly on the balls of his feet.

“Hi,” Bertholdt smiled, bowing his head to keep it from spreading into something goofy. “So I got a bubble bath set and a coupon for a party.”

“Oh really?” His eyebrows rose in interest, but his hazel eyes shone with a knowing sort of mischief. “Sounds like a nice gift.”

“I think so. It was given to me by this guy I’m into.”

Reiner choked on that and looked around. Thankfully, no one was paying attention to them for the time being, despite their obviously larger frames and the fact that they were blocking the path between the kitchen and dining room. “Sounds pretty cool if you wanna bang—I mean, bathe with him.” His face only turned hotter, his nervousness shining through, and Bertholdt couldn’t help but be endeared by him. If he wasn’t interested in Reiner already, he definitely was now. It was reassuring to see someone so confident and sure and outgoing be the complete opposite, especially when he related to it.

“I, uh,” Bertholdt cleared his throat, “I would like to do both. Of those things. With you—him. With him.”

Reiner nodded, biting his lip, but his smile was too strong to hold back. “Nice. I’ll let him know.”

“Oh my god, just kiss already!” Ymir shouted from the kitchen. The tall duo glanced over at their suddenly invested audience. Bertholdt instantly covered his face and hid his blush from view. This night was going rather well and absolutely terrible in record seconds.

“Quit peeping at us,” Reiner shot back. Bertholdt peeked out of his hands to find the shorter glaring daggers at the group. “We’re having a private moment.”

“You’re the ones flirting under the mistletoe, bro,” Connie said, pointing at the dangling piece of green above their heads.

Both looked up to see that yes, there was a piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. It had definitely not been there before, unless it had, and Bertholdt had taken little notice of it. There was only one person he was interested in finding under that symbolic decoration, but he hadn’t strayed near it with intention.

Reiner was back to embarrassment, eyes wide at the dangling mistletoe. His eyes never stayed one color, deciding to instead remain a kaleidoscope of greens and browns and the occasional blue depending on the light it reflected. At that moment, they were a faint green, energetic but calm, warm and lively but familiar and safe. Bertholdt had known him for years, but when he was hit with feelings of affection in college, he was hypersensitive to a lot more things: the closeness of their bodies, the laugh and tone of his voice, the flicker of his smile. But most importantly, he found a new love for his eyes.

It looked like Reiner was stuck in shock, glancing from the mistletoe to Bertholdt in rapid fire. His eyes wandered briefly to his lips, but never for long. Bertholdt had little experience in taking the initiative, fueled by anxiety and worry that something, anything, could go wrong. And the possibilities were endless: a yell in the face, abandonment by a friend, rejection from the university of his choice. Things he couldn’t even imagine could turn up and ruin everything.

But this time, he was calm. He felt little worry, paired with a slight concern for Reiner and if he had fizzled out or malfunctioned or something. There was no tremble in his lips as Bertholdt leaned forward to peck him, much too short but oh so sweet, and there were no regrets. It felt freeing to do something about the feelings that had twisted inside him for so long, like a sleeping dragon awaiting provocation. Once he tasted it, though, he refused to go back, no matter how much he was fearful of it.

Which reminded him of the reality of the situation that had caught up quite quickly with him, and he realized what he had done.

“I need to help the table!” He cried out as he hurried back to the dining room. Reiner stayed in the doorway for a moment as their audience gasped and cried out, owning up to bets and struck with disbelief.

The rest of the night was fun, the food was delicious, and everyone returned home safely. Bertholdt lingered behind. He had already bid farewell to Marco, figuring out sleeping arrangements with Jean, so he would have the apartment to himself. The next thing he needed was a bath and Reiner.

“So,” he began, quietly handing over the handmade coupon, “I think I wanna cash in that free bubble bath party.”

x-x-x

“Look. I’m the Armored Titan.”

Bertholdt looked up at Reiner and burst into laughter immediately. The lingering remains of the events before the bubble bath—consisting of lips, hands, and the contact of skin, oh my—hadn’t left him. Even if his possibly-though-maybe-definitely new boyfriend was imitating a character from a dumb television show.

“You’re gonna get that in your eye,” he pointed out. Some of the suds were dangerously close to his mouth and vision. Bert had been too busy making a crown on his head, with as little help from a mirror as he could manage, to monitor the blond. Besides, he had to focus on making a beard as well.

“Psh, yeah, okay, I’ll remember that when I’m—shit.” Bertholdt laughed as Reiner lunged for one of the towels, giggling and kicking the taller once he could see well again. “It’s not funny, Beard-tolt! I have to protect my beautiful eyes.”

Bertholdt felt a blush rush to his cheeks as he sputtered for an excuse. “I’m pretty sure I did not say that!” He couldn’t tell past the pleasure that Reiner was delivering with his tongue if those words had actually left his mouth, though he was sure they had, but no one needed to know that much detail.

“The court reporter will read back your remarks and prove that you are wrong.

“Who’s the court reporter?”

Instead of an answer, Bertholdt received a multitude of kisses, along his neck and cheeks and to his lips. He had little protest for them, not when he was sitting in a tub, with the one person who could make him feel more comfortable or relaxed than anyone in the world.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Everybody Loves a Clown- Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,300

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual,

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Please, if you want to be tagged for this series, let me know and I’ll add you! If you want to be tagged for my other fics, I’ll add you! I want to hear what you guys think about this. If you want something requested, send it in!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

.

You got to the carnival the next morning and the minivan was squeaking as Dean stopped it.

“God, I hate this car. I want my car.” Dean complained, stepping out.

“Dean, with me helping, you’ll be able to finish that beauty in no time.” You said, holding his hand. Dean wasn’t really big on public affection but he always wanted to be touching you. He didn’t want you to leave him. After that incident at the hospital, you wouldn’t let go of him.

“True, you’re almost as good as me.” Dean smiled.

“I learned from the best.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek. Dean chuckled and you looked at what he was looking at. A three-foot woman in a clown suit was walking past you two and then past Sam. Sam was stiff, his hands were in his pockets and he gulped as she passed.

Aw, poor Sammy. You honestly felt bad for him. The woman stared at Sam for a moment too long before passing him by completely. Sam let out a huge breath that he was holding.

“Don’t be scared, Sam, they won’t bite. Unless you ask.” You giggled.

“Go screw yourself.” Sam said, agitated. He turned away with a roll of his eyes and you smiled.

“I’m teasing, Sam. Live a little.” You giggled.

“Were there more murders?” Sam asked, dropping that topic.

“Two more last night. Apparently, they were ripped to shreds and they had a little boy with them.” Dean explained.

“Who was with a clown.” Sam nodded, thinking.

“Yeah, a clown, who apparently vanished into thin air.”

“Guys, you know, looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything.” You sighed, wondering where to start.

“Well, it's bound to give off EMF, so we'll just have to scan everything.” Dean shrugged, thinking of a simple way.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind three strangers with a weird device, scanning anything. How are we going to blend in?” You asked, looking between both boys.

“I have an idea. Follow me.” Dean let go of your hand and walked to a tent with a sign that read ‘Help Wanted… s. Cooper’.

“If there is a clown position, I vote Sam.” You called out, giggling at the scowl you received. You walked into the tent and frowned when you felt a strong force pass through your body. You looked at a blind man who was throwing knives at a target; all of them missing the red circle. That force was never a good thing. Your supernatural radar was going off.

“Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?” Dean asked the man, not realizing he was blind.

“What is that, some kind of joke?” The man turned and took his glasses off, revealing he was blind.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” Dean immediately apologized.

“You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?” The man said, getting angry. Damn, it was just a mistake.

“Wanna give me a little help here?” Dean asked his brother. Sam smirked and shook his head. Dean glared at him and a very short man walked into the room. Some may think he was a midget.

“He, is there a problem?” He asked.

“Yeah, this guy hates blind people.” The blind man spoke. What the hell was going on?

“No, I don’t…” Dean tried to say.

“Hey buddy, what's your problem?” The short guy asked, glaring at Dean.

“Nothing, just a little misunderstanding.” Dean chuckled nervously. Sam was trying real had not to laugh and you were trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with the blind man. You were staring at him and he looked at you. Yes, he was blind but you felt as if he was actually staring at you.

“Little?! You son of a bitch!” The short guy said angrily.

“No, no, no, no! I'm just, could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is?” Dean pleaded. Sam laughed and you looked away from the blind man to look at the short man.

“He’s in there.” The short man scolded. You’ve never seen Dean get out of a room that fast before. Sam snickered as he followed. You sighed and shook your head before following him.

“Hi, Mr. Cooper? We say your help wanted sign outside and we were interested.” Dean said upon walking in.

“You picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat.” Mr. Cooper said, pointing to the two chairs in front of his desk. Dean was quick to take the normal chair, leaving Sam to take the pink clown faced chair. Sam glared at his older brother before reluctantly siting on the chair.

You entered the room and smiled at the man who brought up another normal looking chair for you. You sat next to Dean and crossed your legs.

“We've got all kinds of local trouble.” Mr. Cooper started.

“What do you mean?’ Dean asked, pretending not to know.

“Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever worked the circuit before?”

“Yes sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas.” Sam lied.

“Doing what? Ride jockies? Butcher? ANS men? What about you, little lady? What did you do?”

“A little bit of knife play. I have a mean throw.” You smirked. Part of that was a lie but you really did have a mean throw. Sam and Dean have both been on the receiving end of said throw before.

“Right, that's good. But you two never worked in a show in your lives before, have you?” He seemed to believe you because you were giving off loads of confidence. Confidence is key and Sam and Dean didn’t have that. You figured Dean was thrown off by the two men from earlier and Sam because of the clown chair he was sitting in.

“Nope. But we really need the work. Oh, and uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady.” Dean smirked, pointing to his brother.

“You see that picture? That's my daddy.” Mr. Cooper said, pointing to a big portrait above his head.

“You look just like him.” You said, giving an awkward smile.

“He was in the business and ran a freakshow. Until they outlawed them, in most places. Apparently, displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So, most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls, get yourself a man. Have two point five kids. Live regular.” Mr. Cooper said, leaning back.

Oh, sweetie, I have myself a man.

“Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this.” Sam said before anyone else could speak. You and Dean looked at him and wondered if he was speaking to convince Mr. Cooper or if he really didn’t want to go back to school.

“Fine, welcome aboard. It’ll take a few hours to get everything finalized so hang out until that happens.” You stood up and left with the men, passing by the blind guy. You frowned, looking at him, that strong force coming back. Something wasn’t right with him and it wasn’t the blindness.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Dean grabbed your hand and led you out of the tent.

“Dean, something was up with that man. I think it may be that supernatural ability we talked about.” You whispered to him.

“We’ll check it out, I promise.” Dean assured you. You nodded and caught up with Sam.

“So, Sam, what’s with that whole ‘I don’t want to go back to school’ thing? Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?” You asked, dropping the subject of the blind man.

“I don’t know.” Sam said quietly.

“You don't know? I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State.” Dean said.

“I’m having second thoughts,” Sam shrugged. “I think dad would have wanted me to stick with the job.”

“Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam.” Dean argued.

“Please, don’t fight. We don’t need this right now” You butted in, stepping between the boys. Both of them immediately backed off and didn’t say a word. You sighed, not knowing what to do.

It’s been a few hours and Mr. Cooper gave you all uniforms to wear. Luckily for Sam, they were only standard uniforms and not clown ones. Sam was instructed to go into the Fun House while you and Dean were to pick up trash on the outside. This wasn’t ideal but it got you inside the carnival to work.

Since Sam was the one inside the places, he had the EMF meter with him and you and Dean were waiting on the call from him.

Suddenly, Dean's phone rang and he answered it, putting it on speakerphone. Didn’t even check to make sure if anyone was listening or not.

“Hey, Sam, what do you got?” You asked.

“I just saw a skeleton here in the funhouse. Listen, I was thinking. What if the spirit isn't attached to a cursed object -- what if it's attached to its own remains?”

“Like a real human skeleton? Do the bones give off EMF?” You wondered.

“Well, no.”

“We should check it out anyway. We’re heading to you.” Dean hung up and was about to leave when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You gasped, feeling a very powerful chill go down your spine. You turned around to see the blind man there.

“What are you doing here, kids?” He scolded.

“Sweeping.” Dean said, looking at you. You widened your eyes and nodded, motioning to the man.

‘I don’t like him.’ You mouthed at Dean. He nodded and understood what you were saying.

“Bull. And what were you talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?” The blind man asked too many questions.

“Dude, your blind man hearing is out of control.” Dean said. You managed to get out of his grasp and you back into Dean who put a protective arm around you.

“We're a tight-knit group. We don't like outsiders. We take care of our own problems.”

“Are you threatening us?” You asked the man.

“You tell me. You’re the one talking about human bones.” You looked up at Dean with a panicked look. He better do something.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Dean asked the man.

“What?”

“My brother and me... umm. We're writing a book about them.” Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, you must have overheard us talking about that stuff. We want to be writers and this seemed like a pretty good topic to write about.” You added, wanting to get away from him.

“Right.” The blind man nodded, walking off. You could tell he didn’t believe you for a second.

“Dean, it’s him. If he isn’t the clown himself, he’s involved.” You whispered, looking up at Dean.

“Let’s go find Sam. Maybe he might know more about it.” You nodded and held onto Dean’s hand as he led you to the funhouse.

“What took you so long?” Sam asked when you approached him. Before anyone could answer, a little girl was squealing with happiness. The carnival was crowded with people so you were used to the squealing but what she said caught your attention.

“Mommy, look at the clown!” You looked in the direction that she was looking but you saw nothing.

“Come on, sweetie, there is no clown there.” Her mother took her away and you gulped.

“Sam, we should really talk somewhere else.” You looked at the brothers and they nodded. You finished up the shift quickly, the day had turned to night. You hated working for other people. You liked hunting. You didn’t have to abide by anyone else besides yourself.

“Sam, I think that blind man is the clown. I had a chilling feeling when he put his hand on me.” You said when you were safe in the car.

“If that’s true, let’s go check out that family. That little girl was hell bent on seeing a clown.” You nodded and Sam told him where to go. Apparently, Sam already got the child’s address easily. You didn’t know how he did it and frankly, you didn’t care to know.

So, when it got really dark, you, Sam and Dean were staking out that house.

“You want to know the lie Dean told that blind freak?” You said to Sam in the backseat.

“What did he do this time?” Sam chuckled.

“He told him that you two were writing a book. About ghosts. He overheard us speaking about human remains and EMF.” You said.

“Wow Dean. How did that go?’ Sam chuckled.

“Shut up.” Dean grumbled.

“So, you think the Blind man is the clown?” Sam asked you.

“Yeah. Why would a blind man be throwing knives? I don’t think he’s really blind either. I think that is what he wants everyone to think. When he touched me, I got this chill that he wasn’t human. I can’t explain it unless you’re inside my body.” You sighed.

“Sweetheart, I’ve never felt this chill.” Dean smirked.

“Dean, can you focus right now?” Sam said, getting the little innuendo. You blushed furiously and bit your lip, not looking at Dean.

“I can’t believe we’re hunting a clown down.” Dean said, leaning back on the seat.

Forever and ever:

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Dean Beans:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spn-applepie-imagines @tahbehonest @carribear31 @tacklesackles

[pongpalace]

too complicated for simple labels (but they sure do help)

So @ericfuckingbittle​ made these incredible aro!March icons and @abominableobriens​ mentioned something about aro!March in a qpp with Ransom while he’s still dating Holster in their tags and so I projected all my own grey-aro feelings onto March because I’m really not sure there can ever be enough fic about romantic identities and non-romantic relationships.

March has never understood the big deal about crushes.

She’s never had one if she’s being completely honest with herself, always staying quiet when her friends started talking about whose hand they accidentally brushed and if maybe that meant they should ask them to the school dance. There was that one memorable time in the summer before Samwell when March worked at an outdoor summer camp and got tired of staying quiet while her best friend wouldn’t shut up about how much she liked her new boyfriend, how great he was, how Annie still got butterflies when he held her hand, so March said she had a crush on one of the older counsellors. He looked much better when he kept his avatars on and his mouth shut, but his tattoos were pretty cool and with the long days she worked with him, she really didn’t have the time or energy to crush on anyone else and she wanted to try having a crush anyways.

March scraped the crush after the third time she found herself talking about his calves and his ass in the ugly basketball shorts he always wore when Annie and Félix asked her about her crush during one of their biweekly “we’re-overworking-ourselves-now-to-have-money-in-the-school-year-so-treat-yoself” nights. Annie kept talking about the flowers Greg had sent to her desk job, and Félix was going on and on about the eye contact he’d make with a new barista at his favourite coffee shop and March realizes that she never actually wants to talk to her “crush” beyond planning and organizing the activities so the next time it comes up she tells them that she’s gotten over him and that’s the end of March's crush.

♠ ♠ ♠

March goes to a Samwell Pride Society meeting with April at the beginning of the second semester of their frog year. April’s been a part of the Pride Society on campus since they started; she came to Samwell knowing she liked girls way more than she liked guys (“Anything is more than zero,” she’d say with a laugh when the topic of her sexuality came up) and was somehow able to balance being an active member of the club with their volleyball schedule. If she wasn’t at the team house or with March, it was usually a safe bet that April was in the Pride office, tucked away the corner of the Student Union building with the best view of the parking lot. April made sure everyone on the volleyball team knew that they always had an open invitation to go with her to the meetings every week, but because March’s Intro to Geography course in first semester was at the same time, it takes a semester to accept April’s invitation.

The Pride office is exactly what March pictured when she thought of a place for Pride: bowl of condoms and dental dams on the desk; a shelf on the bookshelf stuffed full of pamphlets on how to have safe sex with all genders; boxes of sex toys piled up under a sign that says BINGO PRIZES DO NOT TOUCH (Liam) ; and a giant rainbow flag pinned up on the wall.

“Guys, March; March, guys,” April says, waving a hand at the two guys on the couch before jumping up onto the desk to commandeer the mouse from the gorgeous dark haired girl at the computer.

“Uh, hi guys,” March says to the room at large, moving her arm in a half aborted wave and wishing that April was better at introductions. One of the guys on the couch waves back, cheeks dimpling and nose scrunched like he’s trying not to laugh at her. The other guy pinches him in the thigh and readjusts so they sit closer together, and March takes the invitation to go sit on the couch with them.

“I’m Mason,” the pincher says. He points over his shoulder to the guy whose lap he’s practically sitting in now. “This is Eli. That’s Isabella.” Mason almost knocks Eli in the teeth when he jerks his head back at the girl behind the desk. She looks up from the computer and offers March a warm smile. March finds herself staring as Isabella is drawn back in whatever April is doing on the computer. She shakes herself out of it when more people come into the office and Mason introduces them to March in between bemoaning the updated reading list his advisor has given him for his thesis.

Isabella starts the meeting when most horizontal surfaces have someone sitting on them by acknowledging the land they’re meeting on belongs to the Wampanoag people and thanking them and the Ones who came before them. Beyond that, March loses track of the meeting as they hash out housekeeping details for the upcoming fundraiser. Her eye gets caught on a poster with the same rainbow flag as the one on the wall at the top and a colourful assortment of other pride flags and their meaning underneath.

There’s apparently nothing else on the agenda other than the fundraising problem because as it gets solved, people start leaving. March stands when Mason and Eli stand, leaving with a fist bump and a salute, but April is still at the computer talking with someone so March continues to stare at the poster. She’s stuck trying to work out what aromantic means, when someone clears their throat. She jumps to see Isabella beside her.

“Oh sorry,” Isabella says, tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear from where it’s escaped her braid. “I just wanted to ask if you enjoyed the meeting.” Her smile is even better up close.

“I did, yeah,” March replies. She didn’t hear a word past the greeting, but she thinks she’s learned most of the identities that make up the LGBTQA+ acronym and their accompanying flags, plus some extras that she didn’t even know existed.

“Kinda overwhelming, isn’t it?” Isabella asks. She jerks her chin towards the poster, having seemingly followed where March’s gaze found the green-white-grey-black flag of aromanticism again.

“There’s so many labels,” March says.

Isabella laughs softly. “They’re are good for people who want them. Especially when you’re usually marginalized by the mainstream, it’s nice to have something to claim as yours, y'know?”

March nods absently, not sure she can really relate. Her experience isn’t much to write home about, but she does know that she likes doing things with men and women. No one has ever made her feel bad about either so she never really thought to give herself a label. Bisexual probably fits if she needs one but doesn’t know enough to decisively choose.

“What’s 'aromantic' mean?” March asks suddenly, stuck on the different ending.

“Do you understand what asexuality is?” Isabella asks. March hesitates before she nods, Félix was pretty vague on the details when he told her about himself, so Isabella explains anyways.

“So simply put, asexuality is the absence of sexual attraction right? Aro is basically the same except it’s the absence of romantic attraction.”

“Romantic attraction?” March hasn’t ever heard the two words put together like that.

“Uh, the part of you that wants to like um, date someone. Crushes and stuff.” Isabella gives March a moment to consider that before speaking again. “So you gonna come back to another meeting?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Isabella’s responding smile is dazzling.

After her second Pride meeting, March goes back to the apartment Isabella shares with two other poli-sci majors. They’re almost caught bare-assed on the couch but Isabella was smart enough to lock the deadbolt when they came in so March is able to grab their clothes and run as directed to the Isabella’s room (down the hall, second door on the right) while Isabella wraps herself in a throw blanket to let in her disgruntled roommate. The next time March goes to Isabella’s apartment, the same roommate, March now knows her name is Zoey, pointedly turns up her music when she sees March at the door. Isabella says she likes the feel of March’s blush under her tongue when they’re behind closed doors which only causes the blush to go further; a win for both of them really.

♠ ♠ ♠

April catches March on her way over Isabella’s after practice three months after March’s first Pride meeting.

“Off to Isabella’s?” April asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. The effect is ruined by the bruise she’s got across her cheekbone from a spike from the game before last. They won the set off the block so she wears the bruise proudly.

“Don’t wait up,” March replies, wrapping her wet hair into a bun so it’ll stay out of her face.

“Oh damn, it’s getting serious then?” April says.

“No?” March pauses in shrugging on her track jacket.

“Have you DTR?”

“What?”

“Defined the relationship.”

“Why?” March wrinkles her nose. She isn’t sure what to the make of the look April sends her.

“Aren’t you guys like, together?”

“We’re just friends,” March replies slowly, stupidly feeling like it’s the wrong answer even though she knows it isn’t. Her and Isabella aren’t so cliche that they don’t talk when they have sex, or before or after, but the topic of relationships or romance hasn’t ever come up since Isabell’s explanation of aromanticism.

“Oh.” April’s silence feels loaded, but March waits her out with furrowed brows. “You might want to make sure you’re on the same page,” April finally says. March’s frown deepens but she nods and slips her feet into her shoes and leaves the changeroom. She frowns for the entire walk to Isabella’s.

Zoey opens the door when March knocks.

“She’s in her room,” she sighs, rolling her eyes but stepping back to let March in. She goes back to the kitchen table and makes eye contact with March while she puts her headphones back. March can just barely hear a heavy bass coming from them that gets louder as March crosses the kitchen to the hall. She knocks softly on the doorframe, letting herself in when Isabella calls, “come in!”

Isabella, sitting on her bed and dressed only in a sports bra and pajama shorts, smiles when she sees March. “Hey babe, whatsup?”

The epithet makes March’s stomach clench unpleasantly even though Isabella’s called her that before. April also called her babe, but she calls everyone babe and now that March thinks about it, she’s never heard Isabella call anyone else babe.

“Can we talk?” March says instead of hello. She winces at the rudeness and quickly backtracks. “I mean, hey, I’m good. Can we talk?”

Isabella’s smile dims slightly and she stretches to grab the hoodie hangie beside her bed. “Sure.” She pulls it on and doesn’t make room on the bed for March to sit but that’s okay; she wouldn’t sit anyways.

March takes a deep breath. “Are we dating?”

Isabella’s smile is completely gone. “I’m gonna say no now, but know my answer’s changed in the last 2 minutes,” she says carefully.

“I’m aromantic.” March hasn’t said the words out loud before, but the more she thought about it after learning the word, the more the label settled in her bones. Saying it out loud lifts something from her shoulders and she can breathe deeper. March understood now what Isabella had originally meant by the labels being good for people; she just forgot that other people might find knowing your labels is helpful.

Isabella’s expression softens. “Oh.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” March says. “I just uh, kinda thought it was the same for you?” Retrospectively she realizes how naive that is. She forces herself to look up from floor that she made the confession to and sees hurt flash across Isabella’s face. “It wasn’t just sex!” March blurts, stupidly realizing too late how that might’ve sounded. “I really do care about you. I just don’t have uh, feelings for you. And I don’t think I ever will.”

“I know what aromanticism is,” Isabella says softly. She’s looking down at the bed, idly picking at a loose thread.

“I’m sorry,” March says again.

“S’not your fault,” Isabella replies. “Not really.” She quiet for a beat. March watches her jaw work before she finds the words she needs. “I really care about you too. But... we can’t keep doing this.” She motions between them.

March nods. “I’m really sorry.” It comes out as a little more than a whisper. She meant what she said about really caring for Isabella and will really miss her as a friend.

She listened and laughed loudly at March’s jokes even when March laughed through the punchline. They had different enough movie tastes that netflixing and chilling sometimes turned out to just be netflixing and honestly, March will miss having someone to hang out with outside of her teammates.

Isabella must hear something in March’s voice because she gets up off the bed and pulls March down for a hug. “We’ll still be friends,” she says into March’s collarbone. “I just need some time to get over this.”

“‘Kay,” March says, mostly into Isabella’s bun. Isabella runs a hand up March’s spine once, twice, three times, before giving March a final squeeze and stepping back, well out of March’s space.

“I’ll see you around,” she says, smiling for the first time since it was wiped off.

“Not if I see you first.” It’s cheesy but it makes Isabella’s smile turn more sincere when March says it. She manages a real smile back too.

She leaves Isabella’s room, ignoring the questioning look from Zoey and letting herself out of the apartment. The walk back to her dorm is darker than normal, even though it’s not nearly as late it usually is when she makes the walk. She knows that she did the right thing but she’s still sad about having to do it.

If this what not getting crushes feels like, she can’t imagine actual romantic feelings being much fun.

♠ ♠ ♠

March meets Justin at a Student Athlete Leadership Seminar at the beginning of sophomore year. His name tag says Justin but he introduces himself as Ransom when they’re partnered together for the trust obstacle course. March eyes him skeptically at the discrepancy but he easily leads her around the course when it’s her turn to be blindfolded even after she accidentally makes him stub his toe. He’s really good at all of the other teamwork exercises disguised as games too. The woman running the morning session makes sure to compliment their teamwork, and March can admit the high five they exchange is pretty epic.

They sit together during lunch where March learns that “Ransom” is his hockey nickname because, “Bro, Ransom just rolls nicely off the tongue, y’know?” He spends the rest of the break trying to come up with a nickname for her and is weirdly frustrated when nothing sticks.

“What’s your last name?”

“Kobierzyńska.”

“Bless you.”

“That’s rude.”

“Right, sorry.” Justin sounds surprisingly sincere. “I can’t make a nickname outta something I can’t pronounce.” He taps at his bottom lip. “You’ll get one though, don’t worry,” he promises as they take their seats back in the auditorium for the lecture portion of the seminar.

“I’m really not that worried,” March tells him. The wounded noise he makes causes several people to whip around in their seats to shush him, causing March to stuff her fist in her mouth to stifle her laughter.

The lecture actually starts, and Justin is focused, though he mumbles to himself when the lecturer makes points he doesn’t agree with. March is inclined to second Justin's mumbles; the frat boy wannabe 40-year-old giving the lecture seems to have a lot of opinions about women’s sports in college for someone whose career never brought him close to actual women athletes.

“Well that was a waste of an afternoon,” Justin says when they’re allowed to leave.

“It was a full day thing,” March points out, squinting into the setting sun as they leave the building. They walk in the same direction without talking about it.

“Yeah, but the morning was okay. We kicked ass at the games!”

“They weren’t games. And it wasn’t a competition.”

Justin scoffs. “They were. Games rolled up as ‘trust exercises’-” he actually makes the quotation marks, two at the beginning with his left hand and two at the end with his right. “-are still games no matter how they’re packaged to make it seem like we were learning something.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I learned a lot in the afternoon,” March sniffs, unable to keep a straight face for long.

“Fuck off.” Justin's grinning when he shoves March’s shoulder. She laughs brightly as she bounces off and then on the sidewalk.

They get dinner together at the dining hall, and Justin continues his pursuit of a nickname for March.

“Greater men than you have tried,” March tells him. “I’m unnicknameable.”

“Unnicknameable March?” Justin tries.

“‘S an oxymoron.”

“That’s what makes it funny.”

“No.”

When Justin has to run off to a late practice, he asks for her number just in case he thinks of anymore nicknames. March laughs at the excuse but happily gives him her number. Almost immediately Justin starts their message thread when he texts her about the unfairness of preseason practice with a captain who doesn’t believe in excuses. March has little sympathy for him, Becka has started the year with her sights set on a winning title and hasn't relented yet but comparing captain stories between sports is fun.

Volleyball season is in full swing so March doesn’t get to as many Pride meetings as she did last year. When she make it to events though, Isabella always has a smile for her, though it’s not quite the same smile as before. March will take it though; she missed her over the summer but understood there were boundaries she needed to respect.

April becomes the second person to know March that is aromantic during a tournament roadie and neither can sleep. March speaks into the darkness of their hotel room and April is quiet for so long that March starts to think their shared nervous silence hasn't actually been all that shared after all. April eventually replies and is exactly as supportive a best friend needs to be, though it takes a couple tries for her to completely understand the term.

“But you’ve had sex.”

“Yeah.”

“With Isabella.”

“Yeah. And other people.”

“And did you like her?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same thing.”

“...start from the beginning again.”

“Okay, like, I liked--like Isabella. I like talking with her, and watching movies with her, and kissing and having sex but none of the feelings I have for her are romantic.”

“But that’s what Kara and I do and we’re very romantic.”

“Yeah but none of that is exclusively romantic.”

“Ohhhhhhhh."

The win the tournament that weekend.

♠ ♠ ♠

Through their excessive texting and snapping once they find each other on all social medias, March and Justin discover that they’re taking the same anatomy class, though in different sections. Weekly study dates become a thing that turn into twice weekly and then three times weekly right before midterms. Midterms finish and November hits and the hockey season is in full swing, completely overlapping the volleyball season and there’s a weird week or so where Snapchat is the only way they see each. After they have a weekend long sleepover to catch up, it’s volleyball finals and Justin brings half the hockey team to cheer when Samwell ends the season in first place. Then it’s Christmas and the new semester and Justin and March sit next to each other in the second half of their anatomy class. Their matching notebooks were gag Christmas gifts from Holster that they unironically use with the fancy pens they gifted each other.

Anatomy gets cancelled in the first week of February and because of their other class workloads, March doesn’t see Justin in person for a couple days. April tells March that she’ll never miss Justin because when he’s not there, March doesn’t shut up about him.

“Sounds like someone’s got a crush,” Nora says from across the cool down circle as March is telling April and Becka about the plans she had with Justin, froyo, and a movie that night.

March frowns at the word crush, her stomach swooping down.

“Not everything has to be about romance,” April tells Nora.

“Thanks A,” March mumbles, wondering if she’s been wrong in assuming a crush had nothing to do with her and Justin’s relationship.

Justin is hands down one of her best friends. They’re in contact constantly and he’s one of the first people March wants to talk to when she gets any sort of news. He knows her order at Annie’s and Denny’s--and she makes a lot of substitutions to the grand slam breakfast. He comes to her dorm if they both need a break from their respective teammates, to watch episodes of How It’s Made with her. They alternate who gets to be the little spoon depending on who has more deadlines that week.

March values her friendships with Félix and Annie and April and most of the volleyball team but she’s pretty sure none of them get her on a level like Justin is able to- he picks around the sun chips when they share a bag of Munchies just because he knows those are her favourite, while simultaneously handing her the orange skittles because he hates them and she doesn’t. And March has met the guys on the hockey team and no offence but they either have no emotions or too many emotions. She thinks Justin finds some relief from both extremes when they hang out together, but now she's wondering if maybe there's been another reason they spend as much time as they can together.

“I gotta go,” March says, getting up out of the butterfly stretch she’d been thinking in. April has wide eyes and kicks at Becka when she tries to stop March.

In the change room, March barely stops to pull sweats over her spandex. She doesn’t zip up her jacket over her crewneck sweater until she’s hit by a blast of February wind and even then she tries to do it up while she walks but just ends up fighting with the zipper for the entire walk to the Haus. She knocks on the door as she’s opening in, waving to Bitty and Jack in the kitchen, saluting Holster and Shitty on the green couch before taking the stairs to the attic two at a time, almost 90% sure that’s where Justin will be based on her familiarity of his schedule. He jumps at his desk when she practically kicks open the door.

“Jesus H. Christ you scared me,” he says, leaning the chair back on two legs like he does when he's ready to take a break from his books but hasn't let himself yet. “I thought I was supposed to come to yours?” His smile is confused but he doesn't look made about the interruption.

March crosses the room and knocks the chair back to four legs with a foot on the rung before she speaks. “Are we dating?” she asks. A wave of deja vu hits her, but Justin’s cheeks colour differently than Isabella’s did.

“Uh, no.” Justin draws the last syllable out while looking guiltily over at the bunk beds him and Holster share.

All the muddled up feelings that powered March’s walk in the cold over disappear and she can breath again knowing that she hasn’t accidentally hurt a friendship by not having romantic feelings again. She’s left with such a sense of relief that it drains her and it’s suddenly an effort to stay standing so she sinks onto the floor.

“Oh thank god.” She leans her head back against the desk, ignoring how uncomfortably her pony tail pushes into her head. The chair scrapes back as Justin joins her on the floor, but he sits, facing March. He grabs March’s ankle and rubs his thumb along the skin between her sock and sweat cuff.

“Um?”

“I’m aromantic,” March says and oh, it rolls off the tongue nicely the third time around too. “It’s like asexual except I can be sexually attracted to someone but I don’t understand or have romantic attraction.”

“Okay?” Justin’s thumb stills for a beat before continuing.

“I was talking about our froyo date night at practice-”

“Because it’s awesome.”

“-and Nora said I had a crush on you. And I don’t.” March makes a face, kicking half-heartedly when Justin clutches his chest like she actually offended him. “I mean I would if I could probably. I just... don’t. I love you but I don’t want to date you.”

Justin’s quiet as he processes. His thumb starts up again. “Same. I mean, I love you too but I don’t want to date you either,” he finally says. He inhales. “I’m dating Holster.” Justin blows the breath out of his nose.

March blinks, “Oh, wow. Uh, congrats.” The news manages to be surprising and unsurprising at the same time. Holster and Justin work just as well together as Justin and March.

“Thanks,” Justin blushes. He has a really dopey smile on his face. “It’s like really new- I was gonna tell you tonight actually, but…" He shrugs, trailing off. "I’m really happy.” The admission comes with a small smile that makes March's heart happy.

“I’m glad.” March surges forward and wraps her arms around Justin’s neck. His hugs are probably her favourite bar-none. “Does that mean froyo date nights have to stop?” She’s only half joking.

“Oh no,” Justin is quick to reassure. March can feel him playing with her pony tail. “Holzy knows you’re my other best friend. He’ll just probably want to come cuddle more.”

“Only if I’m the middle spoon.”

Her pony tail tickles her neck when Justin sighs into it it. “Only every second cuddle sesh.” He squeezes her once more before pulling back. March grabs his face when he makes to get up off the floor though, keeping him in place.

“Thank you,” she says seriously.

“Welcome,” he replies. He kisses her forehead before getting up and that’s not something he’s ever done before, but neither of them have ever said "I love you" to the other either.

“Froyo?” Justin holds out a hand. March lets him pull her up and she zips up her jacket properly while he struggles into his. They race down the stairs, almost taking out Jack in the process. Justin shouts a sorry, bro-ing up what little Canadian accent he has from Toronto, and fist bumps Holster on his way out. Holster offers his fist to March too. She bumps, and even does the explosion that the end just to make Justin laugh. Holster insists they try a three way first bump so it’s another 10 minutes before March and Justin are out in the cold, on their way for froyo.

Crushes to March are an abstract concept, kinda like the concept of doing her dishes right after she dirties them. She doesn’t understand crushes or romantic feelings and it’s sitting across from Justin, who’s got a red ring around his mouth from trying to lick the bottom of his container but gamely offered March a bite of his pineapple froyo when he thought she’d like it, that she really feels okay with that.

She doesn’t need a romantic partner when she’s got the friends she does.

[memoirs-of-normal]

August 3rd

I'm writing this without thinking. I got no one suitable enough to load this off to. That is why I am writing it out so just I could vent it out.

I saw you today, and you saw me. 

My mind lagged so much that I didn’t approach you and instead focused on finishing the task I was set on doing at that time. But when I finished, I felt regret. Regret that I didn’t even approach you to talk like I wished we could have. I went upstairs again, thinking that I will find you again. That this time, I can approach you and say that I want to talk to you, invite you over somewhere for a decent chat. If you agree then it's good, and if you didn’t, well, at least I've tried.

I didn’t see you then.

For the past two hours I was sitting upstairs near to where we saw each other. I was fidgety, thinking of how stupid I was of doing my task that I could’ve done on Monday. I know I won't be able to see you again, because you will be graduating tomorrow. For the past two hours I was anxious, undecided of whether to stay in school just in case you were still in it or go home and let go of you as you seem to have let go of me. I know I am giving myself false hope that you will be coming back, but I just couldn't help it as you were with me for almost two years. For the past two hours I was reflecting on the things I've done, on the things I should've done just to keep you with me. I know I have been a silly girl. I should've believed that I could fix the things we were experiencing before I did the reckless deed.

I know I've hurt you so much, and I wanted you to know how sorry I was. If only you would talk to me.

After a while I decided to go to the lobby to wait for... I don't even know what I was waiting for. Maybe waiting for you, or waiting for my hopes to die. I am fidgety. My glasses broke, my phone fell down, my mind wandered to what ifs and what nots. I tried to occupy myself by reading novels on my phone and chatting to my classmates just so my mind would not be plagued by dangerous thoughts. I heard your voice. And in my peripheral vision I saw you climb at the stairs of the entrance with your friend. And wussy as I was, I pretended to be busy reading a novel. I was scared of the confrontation. But deep in me I really wanted to talk to you. I made up excuses on how it would be better to approach you when you are about to leave the establishment so that I won't be a bother as much as I already was. I had an internal prep talk, along with my best friend who was chatting me, to motivate myself to have the strength to do the first move. I made myself believe that for once, to either have my heart back or let you break it, I should man up the way you were patient and tolerated me. It was entirely my fault this time, and if the way I feel pain right now is any indication, you are hurting more. That is why I really need to be strong enough to confront you. My body says the complete opposite of strength though: I was badly shaking and internally I am feeling cold. Never knew I could be this nervous.

There you were.

It seems you were hurrying though. Did the thought of facing me was too much to bear that you seem to avoid it at all cost? I am really sorry we are like this now. I think I ended up looking so persistent, with the way I asked you out whether you were free to chat. I expected your response though: what were we going to talk about? I don't even know anymore, my mind was blank. Before you invited your friend over, I couldn't remember what we were talking about. I think it was whether you were free, or whatever will you be doing next? I was thankful when the topic shifted to my failed interviews. At least, my mind should reciprocate and formulate some decent things to talk to you about.

Thank you for giving me a chance to talk to you. 

You sent your friend away for a while, so that we could talk in the side. I blame my mind for lacking any decent thing to talk about, but that is what pops in: how you didn't want to anymore. Yeah, I think I heard something inside of me crack. It hurts but probably it doesn't hurt as much as you did. I am really sorry for hurting you. But still, I wanted to distract myself on how badly it was hurting. I didn’t want to break down in the school the same way I broke down in my bed a few weeks ago. I don’t want a scene.

You poked me in the cheek. And poked me again. And again. A gesture so silly that I didn’t know whether to hit you on the head or laugh at the absurdity that you are doing. I forgot what we talked about next, but my mind registered that you were successfully distracting me, and you don't know how I am thankful for you for that. When you talked about heading out to play, I didnt know why I tagged along. Was I this masochist to bear the pain cause I am near someone who did not want me anymore? I think I was even too insistent to be with you. And I believe you feel like escaping from me, because of how fast you were pacing your steps. It sank to me why I was tailing you like a lost puppy even though I already had an answer to my question, I wanted at least a final light hearted memory. One where we part each other after a good time. I know how you love your games, and I wish the two of you wins so that I can keep a good memory. I am sorry for being so selfish Sitting there between the two of you was so awkward, but I thank your friend for occupying me. You tried to sneak bits to our conversation, but I feel like you wanted me to leave already.

I am sorry for being persistent.

I remembered how you like to entertain me between your games you know. You talk to me, ask how I was, let me tease you on how you rank or how you died in the game, play with my fingers or pet my hair while you are waiting for the next respawn. I loved watching you play because of those.  But now, they're just painful memories that plagues me every time I accidentally brush my leg against yours, or when your friend tells you how good you were in the game. When the games ended, I knew it was time for me to leave. You were thinking about whether to stay at your friend's, right? I got what I wished, a light-hearted memory. 

But why did I feel no better?

I was surprised and cautious on how you ended up walking the road as me, even though you were supposed to be walking on the other side of the road. Am I going to end up bringing my hopes up again? Looks like I just did. We talked about mundane ways on how you would go home using this route, but maybe it was that false hope that gave me the courage of inviting you over to my place with the excuse of the puppies. I am sorry for being cunning. I know how much you love small dogs, but due to our current situation I didnt expect you to accept my invitation.

We talked idle chat, avoiding the silence that would not be anything but awkward. For some reason, I keep torturing myself with memories of once were. How you had liked accompanying me home, even though I hated it cause I know you were going a longer route and taking up to much time to get home. How you stayed with me to eat first before going home just to be sure I had at least eaten something. How we would share random jokes about the people around us, I did sometimes think you were corny but the face while you’re saying it carries the whole joke. We finally rode a jeep, but these memories make me wished that you could’ve spared sitting beside me. I feel the tears near my eyes because I remembered how I always end up sleeping on jeeps but wake up on your shoulder.

I knew you would love these puppies as I loved them the moment I saw them. What I couldn’t tell you is what I’ve told them, and I am thankful that animals couldn’t talk. I told them how I feel. I felt really lonely that you wouldn't talk to me. I felt mad at myself for acting stupid and hurting you, mad enough to get my little knife and place it against my neck as my recent nightmares show I would be doing. The puppy barked and it was then I stowed that knife downstairs as I prepared my pup's meal. I felt guilty of my actions, even though I didn't feel any regret doing it at first because I believed that I should take consequences for my actions. I took them, but I never knew I would not be able to handle it.

 I fear myself now, of how I could be irrational, of how I am easily influenced by these thoughts I’ve had. I’m scared, and it scares me that I wouldn’t be able to share anything of my fears to you because I just lost you already.

I was lucky you couldn’t hear my thoughts when you lean your head towards me. I was confused, I thought you said you didn't want to anymore? When my siblings went down, I think my temperature went cold when we started to talk. I could register everything you are telling me, but I think it went to my soul instead of my brain. It sunk to me that I lost my playful lover, and I think that was what made me weep. Along with those advice from you of what I should do from now on. When you mentioned not hurting myself, I think my mind went stiff. I didn’t accidentally told you that I almost did that, right? how the heck have you known? Making me promise that, especially since you used my second name rather than first, made it more spellbinding. How will I relieve this stress going on my mind then? You aren’t gonna help me bear with them anymore so what else would I turn to. The thoughts of what will happen to me from now on scares me so much I couldn’t do anything but cry.

 I am sorry for troubling you.

 I am sorry you end up comforting me even though it is you I need to be making up to. I am really sorry I had hurt you. Thank you for bearing with me, my selfishness, stupidity and all.

I didn’t know why I told you everything that happened in there. I was trying to forget that. I didn’t want to tell you that because I didn’t want you to feel like I was guilt tripping you into staying or something. But since I believe this will be the last time I will unload my troubles to you, I took the chance. I am stupid you know. I liked how you scold me, funny as it was to like a scolding. You were the only one to point out my faults to me. To point out what I should’ve done. I know most of my friends are stupid too, but they are the only ones I depend on, and I only got a few.

How I missed you. So much.

I think my tears continued because I miss your comfort, I miss your cuddles, I miss your companionship, I miss you. I am sorry for what I’ve done, and I am sorry I sought other ways to distract myself from the loneliness instead of approaching you and just fixing things up last month. I am sorry I lost your affection, your trust, your love.

I got no other choice but to take whatever you are willing to give me. And that alone, makes me think I am really undeserving of you. The tears I poured into writing this maybe too much, because I really feel I under appreciated you. I’m sorry, and I am really thankful you are still willing to talk to me.

[endmetrash]

I was tagged by @1runw1thwolves212

I actually wrote half of this earlier today but lost it, a whole bucket load of fun.

(The) Last (I can make people (@1runw1thwolves212) die by those two words)

1) Drink: Water

2) Phone call: My mother, last week

3) Text message: iMessages - @1runw1thwolves212 and @omggryffindog, text – drama friend, Tumblr - @1runw1thwolves

4) Song I listened to: I Like It by BTS

5) Time I cried: watching a play yesterday, it featured a blind woman suffering from a brain tumour who bonds with a poor art student shortly before her death.

Have you ever

6) Dated someone twice: People do that? No, I’ve never dated anyone.

7) Been cheated on: See above

8) Kissed someone and regretted it: As a result of never having dated, I’ve never kissed anyone either.

9) Lost someone special: Many friends when I moved houses at 8, others when I moved schools a few more times. My father when I was 10.

10) Been depressed: I don’t think I’ve been clinically depressed. But I’ve been in a bad space…about once a day.

11) Gotten drunk and thrown up: Never drank that much alcohol.

List three favourite colours

12) Bluey green

13) Greeny blue

14) Black

In the last year have you

15) Made new friends: Not close ones…

16) Fallen out of love: Again, never really experienced that type of love.

17) Laughed until you cried: Yesterday, my drama group has a whole heap of inside jokes.

18) Found out someone was talking about you: Again, yesterday, but not at drama.

19) Met someone who changed you: I’m a believer of every single action affecting other people, so undoubtedly yes.

20) Found out who your true friends are: I’ve known who they are for over a year, actually.

21) Kissed someone on your Facebook list: I don’t have Facebook, and again, I’ve never been kissed (ah, I remember that movie)

General

22) How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: See 21.

23) Do you have any pets: I have a dog

24) Do you want to change your name: I’m starting to grow attached to my first name, but I still wanna change my last and middle names.

25) What did you do for your last birthday: I had a shared birthday with a friend. A groups of friends and ourselves went to see La La Land.

26) What time did you wake up: Around 8-9.

27) What were you doing at midnight last night: I think I was asleep?

28) Name something you can’t wait for: BTS comeback! It’s going to be amazing!

29) When was the last time you saw your mother: Can I just register the fact that this question is a little weird? My answer is 2-3 months ago, I honestly can’t remember.

30) What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: This is deep. One of two things. I wish I could either change how emotionally sensitive I am or the fact that my family is so disjointed.

31) What are you listening to right now: You Were Beautiful by Day6.

32) Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Weirdly specific question. Yes, I have a step-grandfather named Tom.

33) Something that is getting on your nerves: My family.

34) Most visited website: YouTube

35) Elementary school: 5 different ones.

36) High school: Only one.

37) College: Not certain about degree, but I’m gonna go as soon as I finish high school.

38) Hair colour: Blonde, I think it’s fair?

39) Long or short hair: Just above my shoulders.

40) Do you have a crush on someone: Not anymore.

41) What do you like about yourself: How quickly I learn and how sympathetic and emotionally creative I am.

42) Piercings: I used to have the standard ear piercings, but I let the holes close in.

43) Blood type: I used to be tested a heap, but I don’t have contact with anyone who knows. I’m actually curious.

44) Nickname: Tash, Trash.

45) Relationship status: Single and not really willing to mingle yet.

46) Zodiac sign: Pisces

47) Favourite TV show: I don’t really know…how about…American Hustle Life (BTS TV series)! That was on TV! It’s a series! It counts, right?

48) Tattoos: I don’t have any, but once I’m legally able to get one, I want a pretty reference to a book/movie/anything really. It would probably be one of those deep and meaningful quotes, it would be somewhere I can hide easily but won’t look weird if I show off.

49) Right handed or left handed: Right handed, though I don’t feel uncomfortable doing some things left handed.

First

50) Surgery: I don’t know if I had one earlier, but I had to have tongue surgery because the join between my tongue and the bottom of my mouth was REALLY far forward.

51) Piercing: My ears, I think I was 9-10.

52) Best friend: Jacob, I haven’t seen him since I moved house just before I was 8, I honestly could barely even remember his name, makes me feel kinda sad.

53) Sport: Swimming, I think I started that before horse riding.

54) Vacation: Cairns, QLD, Aus. I was 8 years old.

55) Pair of trainers: Wait, who ACTUALLY remembers that stuff!

Right now

56) Eating: Haven’t eaten for AGES

57) Drinking: I finished a bottle of water just recently

58) I’m about to: Get back to doing my homework, I gotta annotate myself a book by Tuesday.

59) I’m listening to: Fire by BTS

60) Waiting for: As above, BTS COMEBACK ITS GOING TO BE AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL. Also for the next Every Day6 release, Hi Hello is beautiful and makes me feel emotions.

61) Want: My friends, food, sleep, no homework, BTS comeback, all BTS merchandise and music, to meet BTS.

62) Get married: Umm? Not at the moment, and I’m uncertain about making that commitment at all.

63) Career: Frankly, I have no clue.

Which is better

64) Hugs or kisses: Hugs, because I have experience and a good hug is the BEST feeling.

65) Lips or eyes: Eyes, they tell you so much about a person and they’re really pretty to look at.

66) Shorter or taller: Depends on what for. For friendship I’ll say shorter because I’m used to that. For a romantic relationship I’ll say taller, but not by much, probably because of relationship stereotypes. I think I’m slightly traditional in terms of romantic attachments.

67) Older or younger: I don’t care about age specifically, but I internally believe in the stereotype that older people are more mature so might go for someone older for relationship on that basis. I focus on personality more that age.

68) Romantic or spontaneous: I really don’t know, I want a connection with my partner so I don’t really care about romantic gestures.

69) Nice arms or nice stomach: Honestly, I couldn’t care less. I care about how I get along with my partner. Can I answer nice personality?

70) Sensitive or loud: I want someone who is both. I suppose more sensitive as I want someone who really pays attention to me and cares about how I feel. I want someone who can be loud though as I want to be able to have fun with my partner.

71) Hook up or relationship: Relationship, no doubt. I care about emotional connections.

72) Troublemaker or hesitant: I want someone who can do both. I suppose troublemaker as that person would be more confident than the hesitant one?

Have you ever

73) Kissed a stranger: As above, I have no experience.

74) Drank hard liquor: Nope.

75) Lost glasses/contact lenses: Real talk, I am the WORST when it comes to losing glasses. At one time I had THREE pairs of glasses lost AT THE SAME TIME.

76) Turned someone down: Um, no one’s ever propositioned me…so…

77) Sex on first date: No, I despise the thought.

78) Broken someone’s heart: Does my own count?

79) Had your own heart broken: Platonically, yes, almost constantly because of a few bad friendships I’ve been in. Romantically, see above.

80) Been arrested: No.

81) Cried when someone died: When that someone was a fictional character, yes. I am TERRIBLE at not crying, I just feel all the emotions and can’t help myself. When that someone is a real person, yes. Nowhere near as much as a fictional character, but still a lot. I taught drama to young primary school children and one of them was involved in an accident. This was around November last year and I still wanna punch anyone who brings the topic up.

82) Fallen for a friend: I draw a strict line between people I allow myself to feel that way for. Anyone in a position of authority or I am close to platonically are definitely in the DO NOT FALL FOR zone

Do you believe in

83) Yourself: Not really.

84) Miracles: No

85) Love at first sight: That, my dear, is called hormones and is an ATTRACTION. I believe that ‘love at first sight’ will not last unless built up and strengthened over time.

86) Santa Claus: Nope, the only reason I pretend to around my family is so that I get the benefit of presents.

87) Kiss on the first date: Depends on how long you’ve known each other, how close you are and the dynamic at that moment. I would definitely say no to anything too extensive,

88) Angels: Not beyond the comparison to really kind people.

Other

89) Current best friend’s name: I refuse to choose between Tara and Payton, so there you go, you get both (see Tara, one of us is fair).

90) Eye colour: Blue

91) Favourite movie: I really have no clue…

Ok, that’s it. I don’t really have anyone to tag so just feel free to do it. Sorry for the delay in posting.

[i-amusemyself]

All 100 Questions.

Bloody hell okay thank you!!! 😄😄😄

1. Is a kiss considered cheating?Yeah, Id say so.

2. Have you ever faked orgasm?Aint never had anyone to fake it with 😂 Ngl tho its the sort of thing id do (which is terrible i know)

3. If you could have one super power, what would it be?Mind reading.

4. Do you think youre gonna be rich in 7-8-9 years?I’d be worried if I didnt have more money than I have now, but idk.

5. Tell us some funny drunk story?Oh jeez erm, I don’t really have any 😂 My friends occasionally remind me of the time at the school christmas ball one of the business teachers turned up and I quickly ran away while aggressively whispering “oh no he knows im a lesbian, aimee told him”.

6. Why are you no longer together with your ex?We work better as friends, its less stressful.

7. If you had to choose one way to die what would it be?See I’m really torn with this question. Part of me thinks itd be nice just to go in my sleep, with a heart attack or something. Its quick and painless you know.But equally I wonder if it would be better to maybe, like, have something where I knew I was gonna die. Because then I’d have time to try and do everything on my bucket list and say goodbye to everyone. Also maybe at that point I’d welcome death lmao.

8. What are your current goals?Idk? Im waiting on A level results which I really hope I’ve done well in.I hope to make lots of new friends at uni and learn how to look after myself quickly I guess. I dont know.

9. Do you like someone?I like a lot of people 😆

10. Who was the last person to disappoint you?Im really not sure??? There arent many people I expect anything from and even then my standards are pretty low. So like, I dont really get disappointed by people, only occasionally by situations.

11. Do you like your body?I could hate it a lot more, but I wouldnt say I’m happy with my body or general appearance. I struggle a lot with my features and my weight and the scars I have (which is ridiculous but thats what mental illness is)

12. Can you keep a diet?I mean if I wasnt on the diet im on rn (with lots of restrictions) id probs be in hospital 😂

13. If the whole world was listening to you right now, what would you say?Honestly id pass out under the pressure of it 😂 idk, id tell them all to take a chill pill but no one would listen.

14. Do you work?Nah, i had 3 jobs at once last yeah but now I’ve ended up with none.

15. If you could choose only one food to eat for the rest of your life what would it be?Either garlic bread or chocolate I cant decide!

16. Would you get a tattoo?I’m v much planning on getting one in the near future so yh!!

17. Something you dont mind spending all your money on?Plane tickets.

18. Can you drive?Yeah! I havent driven since I passed my test, but hopefully I havent forgotten how to that quickly!

19. When was the last time someone told you youre beautiful?…I cant remember. Thats depressing (not that I blame them).

20. What was the last thing you cried for?Argh I have no idea why I was crying, my brain just wasnt doing its job so everything made me stressed and sad.

21. Do you keep a journal?I keep a blog for diary posts but besides that nah

22. Is life fun?If you allow it to be, yeah

23. Is farting in front of people irrelevant?Tf is that supposed to mean? I guess if you know the person well it is.

24. Whats your dream car?I dont know about Dream Car, id have to research it loads to decide what my absolute fave it. Although rn I’d really love a ‘67 VW beetle bc theyre small and cheap on insurance 😂

25. Are grades in school important?My own grades are super important to me, (to the point its probably unhealthy) but in terms of how the people around me do, it doesnt really matter to me. I mean, I want everyone to do well, but I dont judge people based on it.

26. Describe your crush.She’s funny and all around awesome and interesting and good at deep convos and beautiful and way out of my league.

27. What was the last book/movie that really impressed you?The last one I read called The Bell Jar. It was unlike anything I’ve ever read and made me think about a lot of things. Also I related a lot with the main character.

28. What was your last lie?Eh, probably “im fine”.

29. Dumbest lie you ever told?Idk?? I only keep track of the good lies 😉

30. Is crying in front of people embarrasing?It shouldnt be but yeah, I try my best not to.

31. Something you did and are proud of?Umm, idk im p proud of playing basketball and representing my region/training with england. But i quit that so 👏 dicks out for my regrettable decisions 👏

32. Whats your favourite cocktail?Never had one

33. Something you are good at?Annoying people and being clingy 😂 also maths ig

34. Do you like small kids?It depends on the child, the day of the week, the lunar cycle, my menstrual cycle, how hungry I am…Yh legit sometimes I hate them sometimes I love them.

35. How are you feeling right now?Great omg I just got my best friend to watch mamma mia and now shes high on life next to me.

36. What would you name your daughter/son?🤐 there are a couple of names for girls I like and like 2 boys names? But i dont wanna say bc theyre embarrasing.

37. What do you need to be happy?Good company, good food and possibly music.

38. Is there someone you want to punch in the face right now?Theres always at least 3 people I would love to punch 😂

39. What was the last gift you recieved?My best friend got me a necklace and I almost cried its so beautiful

40. What was the last gift you gave?The gift of my company @only-slightly-dangerous 😉😉😉

41. What was the last concert you went to?I went to to see Amber Run in february

42. Favourite place to shop at?Um, as in shop? A place called blue banana probs (england’s hot topic smh)

43. Who inspires you?Kaitlyn Alexander bc they helped me to understand who I am and how I feel and to be loud and proud about it.And Luke Cutforth bc he’s so open about his mental health and struggles with self harm but hes so happy now.

44. How old were you when you first got drunk?18 lmao

45. How old were you when you first got high?It aint happened yet (and i dont really want it to)

46. How old were you when you first had sex?It aint happened yet smh

47. When was your first kiss?As far as im concerned never

48. Something you want to do until the end this year?What….does this mean….? Idk???

49. Is there something in the past you wish you hadnt done?It’s more stuff I wish I had done tbh. I suppose I said things I shouldnt have or got too involved in drama, but you kinda need all that secondary school shit to learn from it

50. Post a selfie.Lmao nah fam

51. Who are you most comfortable around?My best friend by a mile. Privacy who?

52. Name one thing that terrifies you.Abandonment without explanation.

53. What kind of books do you read?Anything non fiction about medicine/being a doctor/disease/psycopaths.Besides that whatever has been recommended.

54. What would you tell your 12 y/o self?1. Youre gay2. You and I both know you arent joking about being “a dude trapped in a girls body” stop laughing it off and confront it.3. Stand up for yourself.4. Chill out.5. Laugh a lot more omg

55. What is your favourite flower?It’s between petunias and roses

56. Any bad habits you have?Not answering peoples messages unless theyre Certain Person A or Certain Person B.

57. What kind of people are you attracted to?Ones that are out of my league and could kick my ass apparently. Also ones that are kind, listen and think a lot I guess

58. What was the last thing you cried for?Already answered

59. Is there something you dont eat? A food that truly disgusts you?I dont eat loads of stuff bc my guts hate me 😂 but besides all that I’m actually the worlds least picky eater. The only thing I dont like is raw tomato. Thats it.

60. Are you in love?I wish

61. Something you find romantic?All the clichés ngl 😂 just anything that says “i love you” or “i was thinking about you” really

62. How long was your longest relationship?Like 4 months? Barely long term.

63. What are 3 things that irritate you about the same sex?Oh jeez i hate these theyre so stereotype-y1. Bitching2. Not supporting each other3. ….?

64. What are 3 things that irritate you about the opposite sex?1. Not supporting each other2. Massive egos3. Yelling

65. What are you saving money for?Uni so I dont starve to death!

66. How would you describe your bad side?Hmm, idk, it depends what someone did to get on my bad side. I’d say stubborn, bitter and angry tho usually.

67. Are you actually a good person? Why?I could be wrong but I think so long as someone has morally good intentions they are usually a good person, whether they always succeed or not. So yeah, I like to think I am.

68. What are you living for?My friends and the hope I have for my future.

69. Have you ever done anything illegal?Piracy? Thats it.

70. Do you like your money?….did I type this question wrong or??

71. Have you ever made someone feel bad about themselves intentionally?Okay, the honest answer? Yeah. When I was a lot younger and less mature and someone said something that hurt me, I tried to retaliate with equally hurtful comments. I like to think I wouldnt do that now.

72. Ever sent nudes?Lol no

73. Have you ever cheated on someone?Hell no

74. Favourite candy?All candy hates me 😂

75. Is there a blog you visit everyday or almost every day? Tag them.Yeah @oneshappyplace knows I regularly spam her with notes in search or Quality Memes (im so sorry)

76. Do you play any computer games? Whats ur fave?Nah, as if I have time 😂

77. Favourite TV series?Argh I canny choose? I love the IT Crowd, I love supernatural, I love Sherlock, I love in the flesh…

78. Are you religious? Does God exist?I’m not religious and personally I don’t believe there’s a god or higher power but I could be wrong.

79. What was the last book you read? Did it impress you and why?The Bell Jar. See 27.

80. What do you think about vegetarians and veganism?I respect it I guess? At one point I was p much a vegetarian until I had to restrict my diet sooo. Tho I could never be one now, let alone a vegan.

81. How long have you been on tumblr?Too long 😂😂😂 Like 3 or 4 years?

82. Do you like chinese food?Love it!

83. McDonalds or Subway?(Never been to subway so) McDonalds.

84. Vodka or Whisky?(Never had whisky so) Vodka.

85. Alcohol or Drugs?(Never had drugs so) Alcohol.

86. Ever been out of your country?I’m currently in the USA so yeah 😂

87. Meaning behind your blog name?It’s p self explanatory and also v true

88. What are you scared of?Abandonment, deep water, knives, toys with battery packs.

89. Last time you were insulted?Ugh, probs like when I met up with a load of school friends for our leaver’s ball.

90. Most traumatic experience?I’d rather not answer that lmao (plus itd take a long time to type)

91. Perfect date idea?Chilling and listening to each other’s favourite songs while coexisting and eating fast food 😂 that or ikea ngl

92. Favourite app on your phone?Tumblr. Even though I hate it, it also keeps me sane.

93. What colour are the walls in your room?White and blue.

94. Do you watch youtube? Who is your favourite youtuber?I love so many youtubers omg. Lukeisnotsexy, mileschronicles, realisticallysaying and filthy frank are faves

95. Share your favourite quote.Pick your fights.

96. What is the meaning of life?To live life to the fullest so youre happy and have minimal regrets. Also to be kind and helpful so even if you dont change the world you might help someone else to.

97. Do you like horror movies?I think….? But I’m not good at watching them alone 😂

98. Have you ever made your mum cry? What happened?Eh…again, would rather not answer (we got some nice supressed memories here)

99. Do you feel lucky or special in any way?I’m still totally in awe of how lucky I am to have met my best friend from 3000 miles away. Like, the probability of it was so so slim and yet here we are.

100. Can you keep a secret?I think so yh! It’s something that I consider super important.