#the spring scaries have unfortunately had a grip on me but | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arhvste · 4 years ago

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KUROO TETSURŌ - PERMANENT PLAN

➵ summary : ‘love’ a word with multiple meanings, given and taken in different forms and an untouched territory you’d always been frightened of. everyone’s temporary, so you didn’t need to know what love is anyway, but kuroo insists that he’s anything but momentary to you.

➵ genre : x reader - angst , fluff

➵ an : this was just a drabble that eventually became a fic, it’s something i’ve been playing around with in my drafts for a while but this was my personal perception of the world before someone showed me that the worlds a lot nicer when you see the glass half full rather than half empty and there are people who want you to be part of their permanent plan

➵ inspo : sincerity is scary - the 1975 - american money - BØRNS

Love.

The word the world seemed to revolve around. Such a trivial thing to you.

How could one rely on a single emotion so much? How could people find motivation to seek out a feeling that’s just meant to find you naturally and in it’s own time.

In a world with countless people, how could you be so sure you’d found ‘the one’? Surely there was always going to be someone who’d be a better match for you somewhere else.

How bothersome.

You’d watched friends insist they’d found their ‘one’ only for that to have been a lie a handful of months later when you’d get calls from them sobbing on the other end of the line.

Love seemed like an indescribable feeling to you. You were certain you’d never experienced it past family bonds and somewhat platonic bonds, but that was as far as your knowledge on the subject reached.

You were frightened of the feeling in all honesty. Untouched territory you’d refused and continually refuse to enter.

From the outside, love seemed like a good look to wear. People you knew insisted it was the best feeling in the world to become fond of a special someone, to experience all the clichè scenarios one could only read about in books. You had to admit, some of your friends wore it well. You saw a brighter side to them while they embraced the thrill of what they claimed was love. The world seemed a little more pleasant in their eyes during the time period they were going through the phases of these unexplored but seemingly exciting emotions.

That all came crashing down in a matter of time though. You’d seen it over and over again. The once praised and celebrated feeling suddenly unbelieved in and torn apart to shreds. The world dimmed a little darker than it was before and tears clouded visions.

The feeling of love then became distasteful to you. Not wanting to ever go through the shattering heart break you’d seen so many go through, you swore off long-term connections with the same people. Everyone had a time limit and in your head that was the safest option.

The plan you’d kept in action over the years was simple. Keep people at arms reach for a while and gradually let them slip off by themselves. Everyone was replaceable and everyone was temporary. The world moved on and so could you.

Over the years, your mindset slowly set in and people would come and go. Some would linger a little longer than other who’d sometimes disappear as quickly as they apperead. You didn’t mind though. That was what you wanted anyway. It was for the best.

Of course, the world will always throw a spanner in your personal works and this particular spanner the world had tossed your way came in the form of Kuroo Tetsurō, your neighbour and close enough friend of 3 years now.

Kuroo was someone who had been around longer than you seemed to keep others. He never questioned it, noticing signals that you weren’t the type to touch on emotions and feelings out loud, he let you get on with your life and was content with being kept just at arms reach to you.

For now he was anyway.

You didn’t go out of your way to talk to many people and people who you had previously called friends that now scrambled for meaningless small talk with you if you were unfortunate enough to run into them. The feeling of awkwardness wasn’t a personal favourite of yours, you often opted to stay close to Kuroo to avoid having to deal with forced conversations elsewhere.

You weren’t quite sure what it was about Kuroo that kept him in your life for a longer limit than others. Maybe he was a little more persistent than others. Or maybe he felt the need to stay on good terms with you since the two of you were neighbours and you’d already been introduced to his grandparents and father. There were various reasons you assumed were the conclusion as to why Kuroo hadn’t let you slip from his grip just yet, but you were always prepared for it to happen eventually after all, everyone is temporary and Kuroo Tetsurō was no exception.

Fridays were the days most people you knew would go out and let go of the stress pent up over the week just gone. To you, Fridays were a routine. You’d go to Kuroo’s house for dinner with his family and then yourself and Kuroo would head out to a field closeby and lay down a chequered blue and red blanket behind the hill that blocked out the city lights from the view over the farmland and talk for hours on end under the stars.

The scenario itself could be seen as romantic perhaps, but to you, it was nothing more than de-stressing with a friend. You had a right to let out all the built up frustration the same way everyone else did, you just did it in a different way.

Today was a Friday and you were glad. Glad you’d have two days off from cramming pieces of information you were almost certain you’d forget and never need to use again after exams. Glad you didn’t have to watch one of your friends whine about her ex boyfriend's new girlfriend. Glad you were going to be able to voice out these silenced thoughts that had formed and bothered you all week and receive no judgement for it.

“Ready?”

Kuroo was leaning against your locker like he would everyday when you’d walk home together.

“Yeah.” You hummed as he took his place beside you as the two of you strolled back to your neighbourhood.

Conversations on the walk back home always consisted of Kuroo telling you about training. Various stories about members on his team were retold to you and he’d always make sure to tell you every detail. You’d always listen and give input when he asked or given clear signs of implication he wanted it. That was something you liked about Kuroo.

You were transparent enough with each other.

Both of you were able to read the others behaviour well and knew what the other wanted. Kuroo was able to read you emotionally well and you hadn’t even realised it until this year. He always respected your feelings and situations regarding other people. He never once questioned your morals or ties with others and left you to your own devices. Sometimes, he’d test the waters a little and try to see if he could perhaps get something out of you.

Any sign that you would open up to him a little more, let him in a little more, anything he could get a grasp of. He’d always stop when he knew he had gotten as close as he could get to you. He never tried to pry the doors of your life open but instead waited patiently outside the door and would wait for it to slowly creak open every so often but still never taking it upon himself to increase the gap in the door when a crack was opened and letting himself in.

You appreciated that about him.

A part of you wished you could open the door a little more for him, but Kuroo Tetsurō was not an exception to your life and you’ve had to remind yourself of that a little more often in the recent days.

By the time you’d reached the Kuroo residence, he’d told you an amusing story regarding his best friend Kenma and teammate Lev who you knew was a first year. According to Kuroo, Kenma had been given the task to help Lev out a little more in training much to his demise. You found the story ironic given that Kenma had been unenthusiastic about the sport until recently he seemed to be a little more willingly involved.

You had assumed this was because the National Spring Tournament was approaching fast and this would be Kuroo’s last chance as a highschooler to attend and go far in the competition. To you it looked like Kenma was preparing to move on ready to acknowledge that Kuroo wouldn’t be competing alongside him next year. He wanted to make Kuroo’s last year worth it and even though Kenma hadn’t admitted it out loud, you knew enough about both his and Kuroo’s friendship to know that it ran deep and unspoken promises were constantly fulfilled in their tight bond. They had the type of bond you had previously wished to contain with someone a few years back but that desire was nowhere near as present these days.

Still, that didn’t mean the burning yearn had completely been extinguished yet. A small flickering flame was still alive deep inside of you, you just refused to ignite it further.

“Yeah, Kenma wasn’t thrilled with the new responsibility he’s been given but he’s still doing it and I know he’ll actually try to help Lev in his own way.”

“I’m sure he will Tetsurō.”

At this point, Kuroo was unlocking his front door as he concluded his story. A few more seconds of his messing with his keys and the door opened. He pulled the silver key out and stepped out the way to let you in first, bowing slightly as he did so.

“God you’re so pretentious.” You hummed as he snickered behind you and closed the door once the two of you had stopped inside and been welcomed by the smell of cooking food.

“Tetsu, Y/N! Is that you two?” a shrill but somewhat soft voice rung from the kitchen.

“No, it’s some thieves who are about to ransack your house!” Kuroo teasingly called back as his grandmother scoffed at him emerging from the kitchen doorway.

“Well, aren’t you just the stand up comedian today.”

You laughed and smiled at his grandmother whose face brightened as she caught sight of your face.

“Ah, Y/N! How was your day my dear? I’ve made you your favourite tonight so I hope you’re hungry.”

The older woman approached you as you nodded and smiled.

“I’m always hungry when it comes to your cooking.”

“Flattery will get you anywhere Y/N.”

“It’s not flattery, it's genuine.” you shot back at the older woman who only chuckled and wandered back to the kitchen.

“Didn’t know you knew what the word ‘genuine’ meant.” Kuroo casually said as if he hadn’t just exposed something so raw about you.

“What’s that meant to mean?” you quickly replied, irritation filling your senses.

Kuroo saw this and immediately surrendered. He’d already gotten too close to the line and you hadn’t even sat down for dinner yet.

“Nothing, nothing, just ignore me.” His tone stitched with the thinnest threads of guilt.

You frowned at him slightly but let it go. There was no point in getting so easily worked up especially when you knew the boy meant no malicious harm.

“Come on, let’s go up to my room for a bit, dinner won’t be ready for another 15 minutes I’m going to assume.”

You nodded and grabbed your bag to bring up to Kuroo’s room.

You liked Kuroo’s room, it was very; him.

It was clean but a small clutter of papers and books were piled and scattered along his desk. It amused you that his work area seemed to be the only chaotic section in his room. He was academically organised but his desk would tell you another story. That was just his work process you supposed, so you never brought it up to him. A bed with plain white sheets dominated the most space in his room and a stuffed dog sat at the centre of two pillows.

When you had entered Kuroo’s room for the first time a few years back, he immediately insisted that the stuffed toy was a childhood gift he’d grown attached to and he simply couldn’t throw it away. You smiled thinking about the sentimental side Kuroo carried and didn’t seem to mind expressing. He was very family orientated and liked things with meaning behind them. His stuffed dog ‘Chow’ (Kuroo had told you the toy’s name was a reference to his favourite childhood film ‘Cars’ as he would often repeat the iconic phrase “Kachow” when he was younger although the cogs in his brain were a little smaller back then, only being able to pick out the “chow” part of the catchphrase.), lived in the exact same spot at the top of the bed and between two pillows and Kuroo never failed to leave him there after making his bed every morning.

It was the little details like this that made Kuroo a little more interesting to you. Perhaps that was one of the reasons you didn’t mind him enduring his time with you a little longer than you usually allowed others to. He didn’t mind sharing little facts with you and was always open for you to read. He never went out of his way to hide things from you and always made sure the two of you were on the same page.

You placed your bag down on the floor, left side of his bedroom door as you always did and sat down on the bed. The mattress dipped as Kuroo’s weight followed after yours. He leaned over and grabbed his TV remote from his bedside table and switched it on to scroll through the various saved programmes the two of you would watch together. It was an unspoken rule that Kuroo wasn’t allowed to watch certain series or documentaries without you and he followed this rule obediently even though neither of you had voiced it out.

Instinctively, Kuroo selected the series the two of you were currently watching together. ‘Your Lie in April’ seemed like a good choice at first but Kuroo soon found that it was a lot more emotional than you had first anticipated. You usually kept your emotions in check and hardly let them show past brief happiness. Kuroo would observe that you always just seemed content. Not particularly happy but not sad either. You just seemed to ease your way through life and take each day as it comes. ‘Your Lie in April’ seemed to bring out a soft twinkle in your eye as particular scenes triggered something within you. A few days ago, you had told Kuroo the series was boring and you wanted to watch something else, he wouldn’t allow that though. He told you that you had started it so now you had to finish it regardless whether it was good or not. He liked to finish something properly and you had no choice but to understand that. His real intention was to see that unusual twinkle in your eyes a little more often. He hadn’t figured out quite what it was or what it meant yet but something seemed to be trying to break out, you just wouldn’t let it. He knew you had inner emotions, but when he’d been deprived from seeing them by you, he was desperate to witness any emotion that wasn’t your usually appeased aura.

“Tetsu, I told you this is boring!” you whined as the two of you sit back and let the intro play.

“And I told you we have to finish it! I want to know if Kosei and Kaori ever perform together!”

“You’re such a sap ew.”

Kuroo laughed and poked your side as the episode finally began to play. The two of you sat in silence as you focused on the screen. Kuroo would have to admit his attention was a little more on you than the TV but he couldn’t help it. The flicker in your eyes was back and Kuroo noticed that it would reappear in the more emotional scenes with the main protagonist. Maybe you related to the main character. He seemed pretty content with just getting on with his own life. He didn’t seem particularly happy or sad either until the girl, Kaori came into his life.

Kuroo liked to think he was your Kaori; without the dying part of course. He could only hope that he brought a little more light into your life even though you seemed to prefer the dim brightness. It didn’t matter to him though, he was just grateful you’d kept him around for as long as you had. He wasn’t stupid, he knew you had a tendacy to let people drift in and out of your life, not letting them stay long enough to make an impact. He was certain he had some sort of impact on you though. After all, you had been coming over to his house every Friday for 2 years now and you never once cancelled or complained.

He was sure that this tradition had been engraved into your life and he had made some sort of change to your routine. He didn’t need affirmation from you, he knew he had you somewhat hooked onto him the same way he had hooked onto you. Neither of you spoke about it though. The unspoken and lingering feeling of relying on each other was definitely present but neither you or Kuroo seemed to approach it head on and confront it.

That was okay though. As long as he knew that you could rely on him to at least keep you at the surface rather than letting you fall and drown into an empty pit you seemed to have been digging for yourself, he was okay with that.

After around 20 minutes, the two of you were called down to dinner. Kuroo paused the episode and switched the TV off before waiting for you to shuffle off the bed. The two of you headed downstairs to the dining room, elbows bumping into each other, Kuroo had a soft smile on his face as you playfully nudged each other down the stairs.

Kuroo’s grandparents were already sitting down and Kuroo’s father was just walking in at the same time. You smiled at his father and thanked him for having you, to which he only laughed.

“You don’t need to keep thanking me Y/N, you’re practically family now!”

Family huh?

While Kuroo’s father probably didn’t mean to stir inner conflict in you, he did. The statement sent waves through your system as you tried not to overthink it. Did they really see you as family? How were they going to feel when you’d eventually disintegrate from their daily lives? Would they be mad at you or would they not care?

It didn’t matter anyway. The same way everyone was replaceable to you, you were replaceable to them. You were certain Kuroo would eventually forget about you too, maybe even find someone better to spend his time with and give his undivided attention to. The feeling of rejection stung ever so slightly but it confused you at the same time. The whole reason you kept people at a distance from you was because you never wanted to feel the effects of rejection. So why was it starting to hurt now? You weren’t romantically involved with Kuroo and nor had you snuck out of his life just yet. He hadn’t replaced you and hadn’t given you any implications on doing so ever. So why was the feared feeling beginning to surface?

You did your best to shove down your growing concern throughout your meal. Talking and laughing with Kuroo and his family whilst you ate. Everything seemed okay and you thought you were doing a good job of compressing the unwanted affects your thoughts were giving you. Things went smoothly and you seemed normal on the exterior but Kuroo was a perceptive person and could tell throughout the whole meal that you were in battle with yourself. He kept quiet for the time being though and let you keep up your act a little longer. He’d confront you about it later when there were no other distractions or ears other than his for your voice to reach.

You thanked Kuroo’s grandmother for the meal and helped clean up the table and kitchen as you usually would. Kuroo’s grandmother would wash the dishes while you and Kuroo would dry them and put them away. He’d reach the shelves your smaller form couldn’t reach. “Teamwork makes the dreamwork!” He’d declare every week resulting in your eyes to roll and a sigh to leave your lips. “This is hardly teamwork, I can do it myself.”

Kuroo smirked and shook his head. “With the assistance of a chair perhaps but why go to those lengths when you’ve got a perfectly strong, tall and capable man here to do it for you instead?”

Kuroo’s grandmother would snort and make a witty comment back to Kuroo teasing him for his perception of himself and Kuroo would find himself with no reply as he had got his own wit from his grandmother and there was no answering back when it came to her.

20 minutes of cleaning would always go by fast and the kitchen would be back to it’s homely but immaculate state as the three of you worked efficiently.

“The blankets under the stairs in the cabinet, I washed it a few days ago so it should be clean.”

You thanked the older woman and Kuroo pressed a soft kiss to her cheek in appreciation. You snickered and teased Kuroo for being a Grandma’s boy but he’d only shrug and ask if you could blame him. You couldn’t in all honesty. His grandmother had been close to him and she always gave Kuroo the support and tenderness his actual mother couldn’t. She was a perfect substitute and Kuroo would probably claim that he was raised in the best way possible even if his family wasn’t exactly the typical cookie cutter family dynamic that others had.

You’d have to agree with him as you saw no faults in their family. His family figures had in fact done a good job of raising Kuroo right and they had every right to be proud of him and the way he’d turned out. You even felt a sense of pride when you thought about him. You’d never voice it though, never admitting to growing somewhat attached to the boy you’d never allow yourself to acknowledge it. You were not to keep anyone closer than arms length to you and Kuroo Tetsurō was no exception.

You and Kuroo padded up the stairs to his room where he tossed an oversized jumper in your direction. Your blazer wouldn’t suffice as protection from the cold and it was a pain to carry a coat to school as the days were warm, it was only in the evenings the temperature decreased.

He shrugged one of his own jumpers on as you followed suit. The slightly frayed ends reached past your fingertips as you brought them close to your face. It was clear this time, Kuroo had lent you a jumper he had shown a little extra love to. He must’ve worn this one more than the others and the strong natural and comforting smell of him lingering in the threads of the fabric only proved your hypothesis further.

Kuroo made his way over to you and took your sleeves into his hands and he rolled them up a little. Just enough for your fingers to peak out so you could use your hands without excessive material getting in the way. The small gesture was another thing Kuroo never failed to complete every week either. He’d always make sure your fingers peaked out his hoodies at least a little to prevent you from losing grip onto anything. He also liked the way your warm fingers would brush up against his as the two of you would walk next to each other. It was almost like your hands were teasing him to hold them. He’d thought about taking your hands and intertwining your fingers together as you’d walk over behind his house and into the field where you’d always sit in the same spot and just talk about anything and everything that came to mind. He had restraint himself from doing so however. He wasn’t sure if you would be comfortable with that and the last thing Kuroo wanted to do was drive you away or worse yet, have you cast him out further than you already kept him. For now, he’d just have to put up with you unintentionally testing his patience.

You had been walking, soft hums of passing vehicles in the background as the city lived on through the night. The sounds became more distant as the two of you trekked further away from the urban area and deeper into the more rural territory.

The hill the two of you would always sit behind came clearer to your vision as you approached it and walked around it rather than over it. You had previously told Kuroo you were not going to make the effort to hike over it and Kuroo just laughed and deemed you lazy despite the fact he had no intention of ever making the journey over the mound of land himself.

After striding through the grassy land, the two of you had made it to your spot. A green patch of grass that hid the lights of Tokyo behind you and gave you a clear vision of the stars littered above your heads. Kuroo laid the blanket down as you both took your seats on the ground as you let out a sigh.

Conversation would naturally flow between you during these hours, whatever came to mind was spoken and neither one of you would hand judgment for what was said between you. Kuroo watched as you still handled the inner conflict that had struck up inside of you earlier. While you assumed you were doing a good job of concealing your slight stress, Kuroo noticed you seemed a little less focused and more immersed in the world of your own. You hadn’t even noticed that he was staring and observing you and you mindlessly tried to witter on about something that had happened in class. You sighed and looked up the stars, a peaceful silence blanketing over the two of you. Kuroo was yet to bring up his observations of your behaviour but decided that now wasn’t the right time as he anticipated your next words.

You both tilted your heads up to the sky as the stars glittered contrasting the dark night sky.

“Do you ever consider that we’re like the stars Tetsu?” You softly spoke as neither of you tore your eyes away from the view above.

“In what sense?” he murmured back, not daring to look at you.

“In the sense of they're just scattered. They’re aimlessly placed and compete with each other to shine the brightest. People are just like that too.”

Kuroo hummed and angled his head to catch sight of your soft eyes momentarily. “Explain.”

You exhaled and closed your eyes briefly.

“No obvious place in life, just thrown into things and have to make their own way from there. Regarding the competition as to which star can shine the brightest, people compete in the world of hierarchy and often strive to be the best in their industry and shine the brightest for others to admire.”

Kuroo sat up properly and turned his gaze in your direction. You noticed this and looked back into his eyes that seemed to be figuring something out. A moment of silence was left between the two of you as Kuroo thought about your perception.

“But,” he began, eyes never once losing focus on yours. “Have you ever considered that a lot of these stars are contributes to constellations?” He contrasted against your point as you raised an eyebrow.

“Each star in a constellation is connected to another building a small community of stars together, some may not be as bright as others but they’re always there no matter how dim they can be. ‘Draco’ wouldn’t be ‘Draco’ if there was a star missing would it? Each star holds a purpose even if it doesn't shine the brightest.”

You didn’t miss the way Kuroo’s eyes desperately searched yours. He was looking for any signs of misunderstandment or confusion as he continued his point.

“So, I think yes you’re right about people being like stars, just in a different way to what you think. Everyone has connections and is part of some sort of community like the stars are and even if they don’t shine the brightest, people are always there to support and connect with you even if it may not seem obvious.”

Kuroo’s point seemed more like a personal examination and answer for you. He had figured you out and you hadn’t even realised till now. Did he know this whole time you had people so casually passing through your life? Was he aware that you were expecting the same thing to happen to him? You had no idea and you didn’t know if you wanted to know either. Perhaps he’d be mad at you for not making your intentions as clear as you thought you should’ve or maybe he wouldn’t care at all and he’d obliged and let you be part of his temporary plan as you had been on everyone else's.

“I know Y/N. You’re not exactly good at being deceptive, well; when it comes to me anyway.”

You desperately tried to think of an excuse.

Why wasn’t he laughing or mocking you for being so detached? Surely he must’ve thought you were a waste of time now so why wasn’t he showing signs of annoyance or anger.

“K-Kuroo -I”

“-Kuroo? I thought I was Tetsu. You can’t just back out now that I’ve figured you out!”

His voice had a tone of hurt and if you weren't so focused on him and his actions right now, you may have missed it. But you didn’t.

“No! No, it’s not like that it’s just- You, no-” You couldn’t think of anything to say to him. What could you even say to someone who had read you like an open book and done their thorough research on it. There was nothing you could say other than the truth now and you both knew this.

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” His hand inched closer to yours as a calming expression met your own.

You inhaled and exhaled and cleared your head slightly.

“I’m only temporary, why do you care so much?”

There it was.

Your true feelings towards the situation and the people around you. But Kuroo wasn’t like the people around you so why was it hard to tell him? Then again, he was to be treated like everyone else in your life had been, as Kuroo Tetsurō was no exception.

“Who says you’re temporary?” Kuroo’s eyes widened as worry and regret washed over you. He had a sympathetic look to him and had a sense of sadness of his own. Did you really just think you were temporary to him? Did you think that way towards everyone?

He was prepared to confront you, expected you to tell him that you just fell out with people easily. He had no idea of the weight of the burden you carried and he certainly didn’t like you felt this way and let yourself be weighed down by it.

“Thats just the way it is.” your voice barely above as whisper as Kuroo looked at you with disbelief. He shook his head. His hand begging him to let it interlock with yours. He held off just a little longer. You were vulnerable and he refused to take advantage of that no matter how small the gesture seemed.

“Why? Why are things that way? Who told you they have to be that way?” his voice calm and collected with small pitches of sadness as he practically begged you to give him an answer. Maybe he hadn’t made as big an impact on you than he initially thought. Maybe he was wrong this whole time about what he was and was hoping to be to you. God, this hurt him just as much.

You shuddered and shook your head at the boy.

“I don’t want to know what love is. I don’t want to risk the aftermath of rejection. I’m scared Tetsurō. I’m so so scared.” A vulnerable look replaced the usual bored look in your eyes. Kuroo watched the way your fingertips gripped the edges of his jumper and the way you cast your gaze down. He didn’t like it one bit. Why did you feel like that? Had you been hurt before unbeknownst to his knowledge? He thought he knew you inside and out.

“Love...it’s scary yes but it’s exciting too. It’s unexplainable Y/N, I couldn’t possibly give you an answer as to what it’s like. I do know,” he gestured for you to look up at him. “that you will experience it in some form at some point in your life. It’s inevitable. You shouldn’t feel frightened though. That’s what other people are for. They’ll be there to pick you back up and dust you off if things do go wrong. The same way the stars connect together, people are connected and you’ll always have people to rely on.”

Nothing but genuine emotion went into his words and you knew this. So why were you still trying to fight it?

Kuroo picked up on this and sighed. He didn’t know this was the reason you had avoided letting people in. The reason seemed somewhat confusing but he also saw your point at the same time. You lacked trust in yourself and that was something Kuroo wanted to give you if you weren’t going to give it to yourself.

“I-I’m sorry! This is stupid I should’ve just kept quiet. I bet you think I’m a waste of time oh god, I’m so sorry Tetsu, this is why I don’t let people get involved with me.” tears threatened to spill but you’d refuse to let them. You’d done so well up until now. Nobody suspected anything when you’d gradually drift away but life is never that generous to let things go your way all the time. Kuroo Tetsurō was an obstacle you couldn’t beat and sometimes in life you have to admit to defeat.

“God Y/N, you’re not temporary to anyone especially not me! I’m not mad at you I just wish you’d rely on me a little more. I want to be part of your constellation I just don’t know if you want me to be.”

Tears brimmed your vision a little more and you could barely speak but managed the next few words out.

“I’m only part of your temporary plan, we all move on eventually and you will too.”

“You’ve always been a part of my permanent plan. Always have been, always will be. I don’t care in what way, but I’ll always want you to be a part of my life. I never intended on letting you go no matter how much you wanted me to.”

Without even realising it, your hand had edged closer and closer to Kuroo’s and you could feel the warmth of his hand close to yours. Your breath hitched as you took a deep breath before Kuroo continued.

“I can’t promise you a life of no disruption, I mean you’ve seen how loud my laugh is and you’re the only one who puts up with my irritating provoking for so long.” You laughed at this. “But what I can promise you is lessons in love. Let me not only teach you but let you learn with me. I have little to no experience but I have some idea of how it’s meant to feel and I’m pretty sure it’s how I feel when I’m with you.”

You sighed. “What am I going to do with you?” you murmered closing your eyes. A soft smile gracing your lips. The first genuine smile you’d given him since leaving the house.

“Take me up on my offer and let me take care of you. We’ll take it slow but I want you to know it’s okay to trust others and let them in a little.”

You looked down and noticed Kuroo’s hand had enveloped over yours. You liked the feeling of his larger calloused hand over yours. It felt right. This felt right.

You were unexperienced and anxious for now. Territory untouched now so close to your feet, but Kuroo wanted to step into that territory not in front of you, but alongside hand-in-hand with you.

“Take good care of me from here on out then.”

Kuroo smiled and gave your hand a light squeeze and you leant in a little closer to him as the two of you sat under the seemingly aimless but connected stars.

You hadn’t let a lot of people into your life. Everyone stayed a few metres away from the door and they’d eventually leave after they never seemed to open. Kuroo had decided to wait and in the end it seemed worth it. The doors had opened for the first time and that’s what told you Kuroo Tetsurō was in fact an exception.

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#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo fanfic #kuroo scenario #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenario #kuroo fluff #kuroo angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst

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ibelieveindragons141 · 4 years ago

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Tingling | Diego hargreeves x reader

Requested by @infinitelyforgotten who asked for: fluffy Diego where the reader dropped into 1963 with him. When he gets admitted to the psych-hospital the reader visits him everyday and promises to get him out (but even with her powers she can’t think of a way to spring him out-until Five shows up). Diego is so glad to be out to stop JFK’s assassination, but mostly so he can hug & kiss the reader again. Maybe when they (Five, Reader, Diego, and Lila) head to find Reginald, Diego dances with the reader and they get caught up in each other for a while before remembering their task.

Word count: 1369

Warnings: none!

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long!

"Here to see Diego Hargreeves?"

You shot to your feet. "Here."

The orderly raised an eyebrow at you and said, "You're in here everyday, doll. Must be one hell of a guy."

You smiled, "He is."

He opened the door to reveal Diego sitting at a table, hair unruly and hanging over his eyes, wearing a white uniform.

"Y/n," he looked up and grinned at you. You sat down across from him.

"How are you?"

He shrugged. "No different from yesterday." He leaned in, "You got any new ideas for an escape plan?"

You shook your head sadly. "No. Unfortunately, air manipulation is kinda obvious. If they caught us, you'd be locked up even tighter, and they'd probably ship me off to some government facility for experiments." You shuddered.

Diego reached across the table and held your hand. "Hey, I won't let that happen."

You glanced up and stared into his eyes, deep brown pools conveying as much comfort as they could.

"No touching the patients!" The orderly by the door snapped.

Diego retracted his hand slowly, not wanting to stop the only physical contact you'd had in weeks.

You felt a tingle, like electricity, where he touched you.

"Any news on the others?" He asked.

"No, but I'll keep looking. They must be somewhere, right? They can't have just disappeared."

"Unless they're dead."

You gasped, "Diego!"

"What? Y/n, you have to consider all the possibilities."

You thought about crazy, flamboyant Klaus, sweet Vanya, kind Allison, wicked smart Five, Luther's leadership, even of Ben and his crazy book obsession. To imagine them gone seemed unthinkable.

"No. They're not gone, Diego."

"Y/n," he spoke softly. "I'm just trying to protect you. I want you to be prepared for the worst."

You shook your head and frowned. "If they were gone, I'd feel it."

"Y/n-"

"I'd know, Diego."

He didn't look convinced, but let it go.

"So, made any friends yet?" You teased.

He narrowed his eyes at you. "More than you."

You feigned an insulted expression, "How dare you! I am a delight."

He smirked, "Oh, I know you are."

Leaning forwards, you said, "Once you get out, I'm gonna show you just how much of a delight I can be."

His eyes lit up. "Is that a fact?"

"When have I ever lied to you?"

He tilted his head, "Well.."

"Time's up."

The man by the door's harsh voice put an abrupt end to your teasing. This was the worst part, leaving. You stood up solemnly and said, "I'll be back tomorrow, I promise."

Diego gave you a small nod. "Good."

You gave him one last tight smile before turning and leaving.

_______________________________________________________________

Diego's head was spinning. Five would be back. He would get out. Save the president. Be with y/n, really with her, not just sitting a couple feet apart.

Everything would be fine. It had to be.

The sound of gunshots brought him back to reality: being chased by three maniacs with Lila.

Once they finally made it outside, he collided with something- or rather, someone.

"Ow!" You cried.

Warm hands gripped your upper arms, "Y/n?"

Diego.

You stared up at him, eyes shining brightly. "Fancy meeting you here."

Diego shook his head with exasperation and surprised you by grabbing your waist and crashing his lips onto yours. You shut your eyes and placed your hands on his chest, melting into the kiss.

"While this is lovely," An accented woman's voice interrupted your kiss, "We are currently being chased by some very scary men with very scary guns, so if we could maybe pick this up later.."

Diego shot her a glare, "Shut up, Lila."

She shrugged.

The doors burst open revealing three white-haired men who did in fact have very scary guns.

"Go," you said, turning to face them. "I go this"

"Y/n-" Diego started, but Lila yanked his arm saying, "Don't be an idiot. If she says she's got this then she's got this."

As they ran, he glanced back to see you raise your arms, causing a gust of wind to divert the bullets' path into a nearby car. He loved watching you use your powers, you were so graceful and your movements so fluid.

You threw the gunmen back, knocking the weapons from their hands and raced over to Diego and Lila, who was trying to jump start a car.

"That was cool," she commented, still focused on the wires in her hands.

"Thanks," you replied, breathing a little heavier than usual.

Diego kissed you. "What would I do without you?"

You pecked his nose, making him blush, "Probably die."

"Got it!" Lila cried as the car roared to life.

_______________________________________________________________

"I've never been to the Mexican consulate," you said, walking beside Diego, Five, and Lila into the stone building.

Diego raised his eyebrows, "Really? Why not?"

You bumped your shoulder into his. "Shut up."

Soft trumpet music was playing in the back round, and looking around the room, couldn't help but feel under-dressed in your simple purple dress.

As if sensing your discomfort, Diego leaned in and said, "Don't worry, you look beautiful." To Five, he said, "I don't see dad anywhere."

"Just keep an eye out for the Majestic Twelve."

You snorted, which earned a sharp look from Five. "Sorry, but it's a ridiculous title."

"That may be," Five said, "But trust me, nothing about them is ridiculous."

"So, what's the plan?" Diego asked, eyes still scanning the room.

"You and y/n stay down here. Lila and I will take the upstairs."

You heard him hiss quietly to Lila, "I want to keep an eye on you."

You frowned. What did that mean?

Diego distracted you by pulling you into the next room. "They're playing our song."

He pulled you close, wrapping one arm tightly around your waist and taking your hand gently in his. You placed your other palm on the back of his neck and felt the tingling again travel through your fingertips. He spun you, getting lost in the music, and ran his hands down your sides sending a shiver up your spine. You whirled around to face him again.

"Someone's got moves."

"One ever knows when dance will mean the difference between life and death,” he did a terrible impression of Reginald making you laugh brightly.

"You're an idiot."

He moved closer, so you were swaying more than dancing, and pressed your foreheads together.

"I love you."

You rubbed your nose gently against his, "I love you, too."

He suddenly dipped you, making you jump. You smirked and took a step back.

"Switch," you deadpanned.

"Wha-"

You grabbed his waist and pulled him to you. "Just follow my lead."

He scoffed, but let you lead him.

Eventually, you reverted back to your initial roles and rested your head against his chest, tucked under his chin.

His fingers brushed a few loose strands of hair off your cheek, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake.

Suddenly, you felt a cold, heavy weight against your back.

"Mind if I cut in?" An unfamiliar voice shattered your peace. It belonged to a tanned, blond man who clearly spent way too much time on his hair.

Diego's gaze hardened and you felt his arm tighten around you, shifting you so the other man's hand dropped back down to his side.

"Yeah, I do. So back off."

The other man gave you a sneer and said, "Now, see, I wasn't really askin'."

When he took a step closer, Diego whipped out a knife faster than you'd ever seen him do before and held it to his throat.

"I said, back off."

The creep's eyes widened and he quickly fled.

Diego watched him go with dark eyes.

"Hey," you whispered, cupping his cheek. "You okay?"

He looked back at you and softened.

Wordlessly, Diego put his knife back in his belt and hugged you tightly.

"No one will every take me away from you, Diego." You reassured him quietly.

"Good." He murmured, his breath dancing lightly across your face.

And even as he rushed off in search of mom, that tingling feeling never left.

A/n: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think and feel free to send me a request! :)

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ashesonthefloor · 4 years ago

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baby, you’re a haunted house (ot4)

summary: Michael really wants to go to Sydney’s most famous haunted house. He may or may not get super startled by one of the actors, and may or may not hit them in the nose by accident. And, after that, he might keep coming back to to try and apologize properly. And the haunted house might just have a never-ending supply of cute guys working there. (That’s a lie. There’s only three he cares about). ao3 found here

prompt: “I’m working as an actor in a haunted house and when I scared you, you punched me in the nose. Now I’m bleeding and someone had to get me an ice pack, and you won’t stop apologizing. You’re lucky you’re cute” (except i changed the POV because i wrote the prompt and i can do what i want thank u <3)

word count: 12,433

content warning: blood! there is nothing too graphic, but, as depicted in the prompt, someone is accidentally hit, and there is a nosebleed. it is all handled and fine, though, and it isn’t too detailed. lots of pining :)

A/N: whew! i’ve worked on this baby for the last two months and only just finished her this week but i am PROUD! i actually really love the way it came out, and my plot! please let me know what you think, i’m a slut for feedback! this was done for my sexy, sexy halloween event that is happening right now! massive shout out to @mikeycliffords and @glitterblazercalum for beta’ing this! maddie ur comments gave me endless validation and i adore u, and iba u caught all my sexy grammatical errors and i love u for it (and ur reaction to luke’s major <3). and to both @calumcest and @clumsyclifford for having to listen to me scream and not know what i was writing. unfortunate shoutout to Mr. Gerard Way for the vibey Halloween song i named this after. baby, you’re a haunted house slaps.

Michael loved Halloween. He was pretty sure it was his absolute favourite holiday, and would say that to almost anyone who dared to ask, though most people who knew him knew not to. It was in Fall, so it was nice and chilly, and he had an excuse to bundle up in hoodies and stay there until spring. And he was an absolute slut for horror movies of any sort. He absolutely adored them, no matter how cheesy and poorly-produced. If he had any talent in it at all, he said fairly regularly to his few friends, he’d be an SFX artist. But he didn’t, and he was stuck working as a barista and getting his degree in film studies.

So when his best friend in the whole fucking world landed a job working with Sydney’s infamous haunted house - known for being realistic, and terrifying, and all the makeup being technically perfect - and invited him to come see it, insisted he can get him in, who was he to say no? He absolutely couldn’t refuse - didn’t even want to, and he’d wanted to go for years, so this was the opportunity of a lifetime - and that was that. It was most of his favourite things all rolled up into one, with the bonus of it being sort of exclusive. Because it was so well known, they always ended up having to open a month early, and the line still wrapped halfway around the block every night. Michael was going to get a backstage pass to all sorts of shit.

He dressed fairly warm for the occasion, even if it wasn’t quite cold enough yet to justify it, with his hoodie on, oversized so he could cover his hands with the sleeves. Sue him, okay, it was comfortable and warm and he liked tugging on the sleeves or his hoodie strings when he was anxious. Not that he ever wanted anyone to know he’s anxious. Michael worked fairly hard on keeping that part hidden away, so no one else could ever see it. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed, exactly. He just...didn’t want anyone knowing. It took level eleven Michael friendship to unlock his insecurities, thank you, and even then, there weren’t many he'd really disclose.

Sydney never got properly cold, so the hoodie was more than enough to keep him warm in the chilly end-of-September breeze. He made his way to the haunted house, queuing up in the line with the rest of the people preparing for the best fucking scares of their lives.

The waiting process was the worst part of the whole thing. It was just him standing by himself in line, bouncing slightly on his heels every so often and worrying with his sleeves, from excitement, nerves, and maybe it was actually slightly chilly for once. He texted his friend a few times, only to get no reply. He frowned at his phone after twenty minutes of trying with no success. He was supposed to come get Michael at some point. If he was waiting to show him around at the end, wouldn’t he want to know which group he’d be in, or when he was going through the haunted house? Or at least answer him and tell him what his plan was? Apparently fucking not, though, since he made it up to the front without a single stupid text.

His jitters weren’t helped at all by that, but he eventually just jammed his phone into his hoodie pocket and hoped it didn’t fall out in the house. Michael and the people around him were finally let into the haunted house and given the long list of instructions. It was all the usual shit, that everything inside was fake, and to keep that in mind. To remember that the actors were just actors. And to go over the last few warnings - like that the actors would jump out, target people to scare them, ask questions, and generally, you know, act. Everyone agreed to the rules with varying degrees of excitement, and then they were all corralled into the waiting area.

Michael was back to bouncing slightly in place, hoodie sleeves fully over his hands at this point. The decorations weren’t too scary yet, just meant to keep the haunted mansion theme going. The premise was something about a doctor and his torture chamber and all his patients gone wrong or something. Michael has forgotten a couple of the details, but he remembered the gist of it. He couldn’t make out anything specific, really, not through the awful dim lighting and the light fog rolling in close to the ground, thanks to the hidden fog machines, only adding to the chill in the cold building.

One of the women in front of him was murmuring quietly to her boyfriend, gripping tightly to his hand. She didn’t seem much like she really wanted to be there. Michael hoped, for her sake, she’d remembered the safe word. Which was a nice touch, making sure everyone could yell it if needed. That rule was burned into his brain: if you yelled the safe word - mercy - any actor nearby would drop their act and escort you to the nearest exit, and you would absolutely not be allowed back in. Michael wanted to make sure he remembered it, but this was practically a once in a lifetime chance, and he really didn’t want to blow it.

Finally - finally - they were allowed into the actual haunted house. The first room wasn’t too bad, just the doctor guy’s living room with some narration about who he’d been and a little about his ‘abominations’. Michael got enthralled in the story pretty quickly, gaze lingering on the (fake) family portraits on the (equally fake) mantle and on the walls.

Room two brought a couple of scares, but he still wasn’t doing too badly. They were easily moved from room to room, sticking together in a clump. When the narration ended, basically, that was their cue to move on. Or for some sort or scare to jump out.

But, of course, the greatest horror house in Sydney wouldn’t stay predictable. After room number three, the smooth transition was broken up by a long, dark corridor, with the sides pressing in on everyone as they went through. Michael curled in a little on himself, shuffling forward so close to the next person in line that he accidentally stepped on their heels. They didn’t even have time to be annoyed before they were in the next room.

After room number four was worse. They went down an equally dark staircase, Michael’s grip on the handrail white-knuckled, pale skin almost luminous even in the pitch black. He shuffled forward once he managed his way down, unable to see anything, but didn’t bump into anyone. Which was...odd, given how tightly packed they’d all been up to this point. He took a gamble and swallowed his pride, sticking both arms out and stumbling forward, completely blind in the dark. Only then did the awful strobe light kick on above him, even fucking worse than the dark. He only got vague glimpses of where he was, and he couldn’t even see anyone around him in whatever room he was in. Fucking great, he had the best fucking luck in the entire world. Which he mumbled to himself as he continued his blind zombie-shuffle forward until his outstretched hand brushed a wall. Finally.

He kept that palm pressed against the smooth (fake) stone, moving in one direction he chose to believe was forward. He was pretty sure it was the opposite direction from the staircase, at least. Hopefully he’d make some progress that way. This was so fucked. Where had his group gone? He was very, very sure he’d been with them. They’d filed down the staircase with him, hadn’t they? Where the fuck were they? Where the fuck was he? This certainly seemed like a fucking dungeon.

He kept going until the shadows seemed to stay in one corner. He stretched out his unoccupied left hand, fingers brushing against another wall. He let out a frustrated groan, quiet and under his breath, even though he was pretty damn sure he was alone. He pressed his hand against it, palm against the cool stone, and he felt it open with a soft click. And he really didn’t care what was on the other side, he just wanted out of the stupid fucking strobe lights.

And, of course the strobe lights turned off as he stepped towards the open door. His luck was so fucking perfect today, wasn’t it?

He stepped through the hidden door (or whatever it was, Michael really didn’t care at this point), letting it slowly close behind him with the same soft click that definitely wasn’t ominous at all. This room, at least, wasn’t completely pitch black. There were lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and fake torches along one stone wall, that provided dim lighting. He skirted over to the side of the dungeon that was lit, gaze lingering on the shadowy side. His eyes still hadn’t really adjusted to the lighting, still absolutely fucked up from the stupid fucking strobe light. He would enjoy this a lot more if he knew this was intentional - if it was intentional - or if he was with his fucking group. Sue him, okay, maybe this shit was slightly better with company.

He heard something shift from the direction of the door, gaze sliding over there. The room really wasn’t that open, and was pretty small in size. He felt something brush his left shoulder and jumped, stumbling forward toward the shadowy side of the dungeon room - backward, now, maybe, since he definitely whirled around to look at whatever the fuck had poked him, only to find nothing but the stone wall. What the fuck was this fucking place? He knew that wasn’t a bat. Maybe it was a bat? He really, really didn’t know.

There was a weird sound from the shadowy side of the dungeon, which he was way, way closer to, now. He turned to look at it, only to flinch back when something lunged at him, snarling. Michael whirled around to look and let out an absolutely dignified shriek, reacting entirely on instinct, which was the only reason he realized, seconds too late, that that horrifying crunching noise had been his fist colliding with the thing’s nose.

The thing, that he was now realizing, was an actor, chained to the wall with long chains. They’d made the noise earlier, scraping against the floor, as the actor had shifted. Probably. “Oh, fuck,” Michael said automatically, eyes widening. His knuckles fucking hurt, sure, but he was more focused on the poor actor.

The makeup was, as promised, spectacular. He was a half-turned werewolf, shirtless and covered in gruesome patches of fur and deep, gory claw marks. He had some sort of fangs in, too, and weird orange contacts that definitely made him look feral. What Michael was most focused on, though, was the blood dripping from his nose that was definitely not stage makeup.

The actor had a small frown on his face, two fingers coming up to gently touch his nose. He let out a soft hiss, frown pulling more at his lips. “Damn,” he murmured.

“Oh, fuck,” Michael said, ever so eloquent. “Oh, fuck. Dude, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t- I’ve never hit someone before in my life, I don’t know what the fuck-“

The actor shook his head. “It’s alright. It happens.” He gave him a small smile, one corner of his lips pulling up, before it dropped right back into a frown. Probably aggravated his injured nose. That Michael had done. Fuck. “Hazard of the job, you know? I told them not to activate the strobe lights and then put a jump scare after them. They make people jumpy since they fuck with your vision. They put people on edge. And then to have someone jump at you out of the dark….” He just looked sort of amused. Vindicated, too, maybe. “I figured it would happen at some point. I just got lucky until now, I guess.”

“Fuck, I’m so….I don’t even…..I’m so sorry,” Michael said again, brows drawing together. He really hadn’t meant to. Had he made that clear enough yet? He hadn’t meant to. His panic wasn’t helped by how fucking cute the werewolf was.

The werewolf just ran a hand through his brown curls, pushing them back out of his eyes. “It’s alright. Really. It happens.” He eyed Michael, amusement in his eyes despite Michael’s clear panic. “I’m Ashton, by the way.”

Michael felt like he was still a few steps behind. Shouldn’t the werewolf be mad at him? Or kicking him out of the haunted house or something? “Oh. Uh. I’m Michael.” Ashton was a pretty name. And Michael was pretty sure it suited him, since it was clear Ashton was pretty attractive, even under all the makeup. And the blood. His nose was definitely bruised.

Speaking of his bloody nose, Ashton pressed two fingers right below it again, frowning as they came away covered in blood. “Well, Michael, you can definitely pack a punch.” He looked almost amused again before it gave way to concern. “Are you okay?”

Michael’s internal monologue still hadn’t shifted from ‘fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck.’ on loop in his head, so it took him a second to register the question. He still felt like he was short circuiting, adrenaline from the scare and the acute embarrassment immediately after still tingling up his spine and all the way to his shaking hands, fingers trembling a little where they were uncovered by the hoodie sleeves. “Wha- me? I’m- yeah? Fine, I- yeah, uh, think. I think, I mean. I mean I am, I’m fine. Okay. Yeah. Good.”

Ashton raised an eyebrow, stepping just a little closer. Michael was pretty sure he could hear his own heartbeat, too loud and too fast, echoing in his ears. Not loud enough to cover the unsettling scrape of metal against stone as Ashton’s chains moved with him. He focused on breathing, pretty sure he’d stopped for a second, inhaling the stale taste of the synthetic fog, permeating through the entire building, though the air lacked the telltale haze of a fog machine, and the equally stale, dank smell of the room itself. It was grounding, sort of. He was definitely not freaking out, though. Not at all. Not with Ashton right in front of him now, gaze fixed on him, Michael’s right hand still tingling, knuckles still aching. This definitely wasn’t social anxiety nightmare fuel. He was definitely perfectly fine.

Ashton reached for Michael’s hand, Michael numbly letting him take it, unable to do much more than watch. Ashton leaned forward a little, chains scraping again against the floor to make the worst sort of unholy noise, grating on Michael’s frayed nerves, thankfully on the edge of what he was paying attention to. He was too focused on how warm Ashton’s hands were, fake blood splattered over them like he was supposed to look like he’d been clawing at himself. “You’re bruised,” Ashton said, inspecting Michael’s knuckles where they’d made contact with Ashton’s nose. “Or, you will be, at least. You didn’t hit as hard as you could have, so I think you’re okay.”

With Ashton tilted forward, it was easier to see that he was definitely still bleeding - which, fucking duh, it hadn’t been that long since he’d punched him - dripping slowly but steadily onto the floor. Noticing Michael’s gaze, probably, Ashton took a few steps back out of Michael’s space, head still tilted forward a little. He lightly pinched the bridge of his nose, giving Michael what was probably supposed to be a lazy half smile.

“Should you- do you need help?” Michael asked lamely. It was a pretty fucking stupid question, since he’d literally just punched Ashton in the nose. And he was bleeding.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Ashton said, as calm and collected as he’d been the whole time. And fantastic, at least one of them was. “I’d go tell someone, but I’m a little bit stuck.” He raised his free hand, chains rattling a little bit. “I’m actually chained to the wall. Someone comes by and lets me out between every couple groups or every couple hours so I can use the bathroom and grab a drink and all that shit. I can’t get myself out on my own.”

“Oh, fuck.” Michael frowned. “That seems like a pretty big fuckin’, like design flaw. Who the fuck came up with that?”

Ashton laughed, short and sweet before he cut himself off, probably because his nose hurt. Which sent a jolt of regret and embarrassment through Michael. “There’s a lot of stuff like that for the sake of ‘authenticity’. Don’t tell anyone I told you, they’d have my head. I don’t mind too much, though. Only lasts two months every year, and it’s fun. Well, except for the occasional scare that goes too well.” He gestured at his face to prove his point, smile tugging slightly at his lips again before it dropped.

Michael didn’t get a chance to reply before someone came in, freezing at the sight of Ashton slightly tipped forward, nose still dripping, but much slower before, and Michael standing stiff and shocked in place. “Oh, fuck,” the stranger said, echoing Michael’s sentiments. “What the fuck happened?”

“Well, Michael here got so startled when I jumped out that he hit me.” Ashton answered for the two of them. “We’re all good, he didn’t mean to. He’s been keeping me company.” He winked at Michael, making Michael’s face heat up, especially noticeable in the gloomy chill of the fake dungeon room.

“Fuckin’ hell, man,” the strange guy said, immediately moving forward to free Ashton from the stupid chains. “So, you mean, the same shit you kept saying was gonna happen, happened?”

Ashton let out some sort of noise that was probably meant to be a laugh. “Yeah, pretty much exactly.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the stranger said again, succeeding in freeing Ashton. He leaned in close to look at his nose, frowning. “Well. You definitely need to be cleaned up. You’re out of commission for tonight, we’ll just leave the room empty and the supervisors can suck my dick. Come on, let’s clean you up and get you an ice pack or something, and you can sit down for a while.” He wrapped an arm around Ashton, hand splayed out in the middle of his back. They were clearly comfortable with each other, and had the easy familiarity of close friends. Or something. The stranger nodded his head at Michael. “You, uh, Michael, was it? You can come with us, we’ll get you out.” He paused. “Unless you want to finish the house..? But I’m gonna take a wild guess and say probably not, after that.”

Michael startled a little at being addressed, temporarily forgetting he had a corporal form. “Oh. Uh. No, not really. I”m- that was enough, I think.”

The stranger nodded his head. “Makes sense. You kind of got separated from your group, it looks like. Usually people are in groups of two and three. You sort of had shitty luck tonight, huh?” He said it kindly, though. Like he was sympathetic. “My name’s Calum, by the way.”

“He’s not usually the responsible one,” Ashton teased, shooting Calum an amused look, only making Calum roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Ashton. You’re always Mr. Responsible. That’s why we’re going to patch up your boo boo.” Calum patted his back consolingly, shooting Michael a grin. “So is this your first time here?”

Michael glanced up, fingers pausing mid-tug where he’d been fiddling with his hoodie sleeves. “Oh. Yeah, it is. Uh. Always wanted to come but it’s hard to get in and last year I got stuck closing most days and couldn’t make it early enough.”

Calum nodded, like it was a solemn affair, or he was thinking. Michael’s ability to figure things out - he was pretty sure it was called perception, but it just proved his point - was absolutely shot through with his adrenaline. He was still waiting for someone to get pissed at him, to kick him out and ban him for life. “It’s a fun place, yeah. I can’t remember if I actually ever went through it before getting to work here and see ‘behind the scenes,’ but we get pretty good reviews.” Calum grinned. “I’d say a bloody nose means you’re pretty fuckin’ scary, Ash.”

Ashton let out a half laugh. “Yeah, I guess so. Or people scared shitless and blind in the dark don’t like jumpscares. One of the two.”

Calum had led them through a couple dark, narrow back hallways, clearly meant for the employees, the whole time they’d been chatting. They get to the doorway of a brighter-lit room and hear a woman gasp. “Oh, Ashton! What happened to you? Oh, god, it wasn’t those dicks from last night again, was it? I swear I’ll hunt them down-”

“No, it wasn’t,” Ashton consoled, stepping into the room where the woman started fawning over him, leaning up to inspect his face and make sure he was okay. Calum, letting her take over, gently nudged Michael out of view and stepped back into shadow with him.

“Look, Ashton’s a trooper, he’s okay,” Calum murmured, nothing but soothing sincerity in his eyes and coating his voice. “I promise. You seem pretty worried but, uh...The floor managers might not be too happy, you know? We’re missing our werewolf for the rest of the night, so the room will be empty...No one else gives a shit, I promise, I just mean that if you want to come back, you might want to leave before anyone figures it out, you know? Not personal at all.” He gave him a sweet smile that probably would’ve rendered Michael incoherent and weak-kneed any other time, but with his nerves as wired and burnt-out as they were, it only tugged at his anxiety-ridden heartstrings.

“Actually,” Calum continued, tilting his head, “I can get you a ticket or something for another night if you want to do this again.” He gave him a lopsided smile. “You know, as long as you don’t hit another actor again.” Michael assumed he must’ve looked panicked, because Calum was quick to console him. “Hey, hey, I’m kidding. Sorry, too soon.”

“Holy, fuck, Ashton, is that real?” Someone else asked, entering the room behind them.

Calum looked back at Michael, expression apologetic. “I’ve gotta- I’ll have to run damage control, Alisha - the girl - is nice but he’ll need, uh, help. Uh...The exit’s right through there, down the stairs, to the left. If you can get back before we open sometime, cut the line and ask for me. Uh. Calum. That should get you in.” Michael only realized Calum had put a hand on his arm at some point when he squeezed it gently and let go.

With another hasty apology, Calum had to return to Ashton and the whole mess Michael had caused. Michael stumbled on nerve-numb feet through the dark employee back-passageways, hearing the occasional shriek from the haunted house proper. He couldn’t help but berate himself and wish he’d done the entire fucking thing differently. And where the fuck had his friend been? Maybe he wouldn’t have been so nervous to begin with if the fucker had actually texted him back at some point.

This whole thing had been social-anxiety massive-fuckup nightmare fuel. Seriously, Michael thought as he finally managed to make his way out of the stupid house into the city, shivering in the much-cooler nighttime air, this was going to haunt him for years. Let alone punching anyone in the first place - his hand still sort of hurt, though not a proper hurt, more like the vague ache wrapped in the anxiety-spiking memory of what he’d done - but punching an absolutely gorgeous guy in the face? Fucking hell. Worst thing he could think of.

It was still fresh on his mind as he tucked himself into bed, fresh from a shower as he’d tried to scrub the stupid memory off his skin. He just hoped he managed to actually get over this and it didn’t haunt him forever. Though, he’d been pretty fucking haunted when he’d gone to grab pizza and when the guy had said “enjoy your meal,” he’d said “you too, thanks, mum.” He hadn’t even realized his mistake until he’d gotten outside with his prized pizza. In his defense, he’d been texting his mom, and gotten mixed up. There wasn’t really a defense here.

Fuck. He really hoped this didn’t haunt him.

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

Well. It haunted him. That first night had really, really sucked. Like...really sucked. It had taken ages to manage to fall asleep after that, since every time he tried, he was painfully reminded of the moment he hit Ashton right in the nose, and how awful that had felt. And everything afterward had just been an anxiety-fueled mess.

He had class the day after, too, which really fucking sucked, but it meant he didn’t have to sit and dwell on every single mistake he’d ever made in his life. The biggest one was obviously his birth, followed very closely by hitting Ashton. He decided, though, by the end of that day, that he definitely wanted to go apologize again. Just because it hadn’t felt quite like enough just saying he was sorry. He needed to actually prove it somehow. Maybe. Or he was just an idiot. Only time would really tell.

He got a gift card for the coffee shop where he worked, because he got a discount on it, and everyone liked coffee. Did Ashton like coffee? He really hoped he did. He was still kicking himself for not getting his number so he could make sure he was okay and apologize, but, in his own defense, everything had gone upside-down topsy-turvy really, really fast.

He got down to the haunted house, still a while before it actually opened. He went straight to the front of the line, remembering Calum’s promise to get him in. Hopefully he could use the advice to apologize properly to Ashton. The guy at the front of the line was kind of a dick towards him, but Michael managed to find a worker in one of the designated t-shirts for the house.

“Hey, uh, is Calum or Ashton here?” Michael asked, praying he didn’t seem near as awkward as he felt. He just wanted to apologize and leave before he embarrassed himself any further, that was all. Everything was fine. It was fine.

“Oh, yeah. Are you one of their friends or something?” The guy glanced at him before shrugging. “Calum’s working customer service and merch. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Michael followed the guy into the house, down a hallway that wasn’t super obvious, to what was clearly right after the exit of the house. There was a booth set up, shirts dangling from the top and displayed in the back, along with magnets and other sorts of merch along the table. Calum was sitting behind it, earbuds in, focused solely on his phone. The guy Michael had been following tapped on the table to get his attention, making Calum’s eyes snap up. He grinned over at Michael, pausing his music and tugging his earbuds out.

“I’ve got to get back to the front, but this guy was asking for you and Ashton. You know him?”

Calum’s smile didn’t dissipate. It didn’t do much to sooth the suddenly overactive butterflies in Michael’s stomach. “Yeah, I do. I’m good, you can go.” The guy nodded and left, leaving Michael alone with Calum.

“Hey,” Calum greeted, grinning again. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back. I was hoping you would. Are you here for the house?” His smile went coy. “Or for me?” He was clearly teasing, but Michael’s face flushed.

“Uh. I- well. Uh. I came- well, I’m here to apologize. Yeah. To, uh. To Ashton. Again. For hitting him. I mean, by accident. I didn’t mean to.” And wow, way to be smooth. Michael just didn’t know how to function around cute guys at all. Especially not when they sounded like they could possibly be flirting with him, if they were on another planet, where people actually flirted with Michael.

Calum just gave him another sweet smile, standing and leaning against the table. Michael definitely didn’t pay attention to the way Calum’s back arched, or the way he tilted his head sometimes without meaning to, or how good his jeans looked on him. He didn’t see any of that at all because he was a good person. He just..wasn’t blind. And Calum was cute. “Ashton’s fine. I think he’s working tonight, but I can shoot him a text.” Michael didn’t even have to reply before Calum was pulling his phone out of his back pocket and sending a text, presumably to Ashton.

“The house opens soon,” Calum continued, “but we’ll see if we can get him up here.” He smiled a little. “You know, after you hit him by accident, they tested out some fake chains. They thought it worked great - until they did a test run, and Ashton broke them when he moved forward. Guess even plastic couldn’t hold up to his upper body strength, huh?” He smiled, eyes squinting a little when Michael flushed darker. Everything was absolutely, perfectly fine.

Calum’s phone vibrated again and he checked it. “Oh, shit. He’s a bit hung up right now. You want to stick around for a minute and see if he can swing up here? I can give you a bit of a behind-the-scenes tour.”

Michael considered but nodded. “Yeah, uh. That would be great.” His friend - who still hadn’t fucking gotten back with him, it had been two days, asshole - was supposed to do that when he’d originally come to the house. Better late than never, at least, even if he’d never gotten to actually make it through the haunted house proper. He just had to survive spending time with a super cute guy in the stupidly narrow employee hallways.

Calum grinned again. “Great!” He slid over the top of the table, knocking a couple magnets to the floor. He glanced at them before shrugging. “I’ll deal with that when I’m back. Come on.” He grabbed Michael’s wrist, his hold warm and gentle, and lightly tugged him towards another hallway. “So what do you want to see first? How we put everything together? How we make a couple of the rooms function? Where we keep all the fog machines?”

“Uhhh……” That was….a lot of options. Michael honestly wasn’t sure where to start. The last comment earned Calum a laugh, short and a little nervous. “Anything?”

Calum nodded sagely, like Michael had made some interesting comment that could be considered, instead of fumbling over his words. “I’ll just start with the basic tour then.”

Calum tugged him into another room, launching into an explanation of how they put it together, and how it matched up with the other rooms in the house. He talked about how they had speakers in each room, and made sure the haunted house genuinely felt like an old rundown mansion with a stone basement. The next room was every bit as interesting, if a bit colder.

“That,” Calum explained, “would be because we keep one of the fog machines in this false wall.” He knocked on it, the sound hollower than a real wall would have made. “It adds to the vibe.”

Michael just agreed that it did, in fact, add to the general vibe of the haunted house, unsure what else to say to that.

“You know,” Calum said, eyes lighting up a little when he smiled, bright and mischievous, “I’m pretty sure they spent most of the decorating budget on the fog machines. In order to get the light fog in the dungeons, we had to keep one every couple rooms. And then the one in the front room, so people know we’re spooky.” He wiggled his fingers with his free hand, his other hand still warm on Michael’s wrist where he hadn’t let go yet.

Michael laughed, earning another triumphant smile from Calum. “That sounds right,” he said honestly. The basement - or what little he’d seen of it, at least - had definitely been neat, with the very light fog swirling around his ankles. He just hadn’t really made it that far.

And, like Calum was a mindreader, he almost immediately said “Hey, you didn’t finish the house, right? Want to get a tour of the basement? I can show you where I had to use Klorox wipes to get Ashton’s blood off the floor.” Another grin, clearly amused with himself.

“Uh...Yeah, okay, that sounds good,” Michael said, ever so eloquent. Being in the presence of a pretty guy did not help him at all, only serving to shut down any critical thinking skills he’d ever had.

“Great! This way-” Calum started to gently lead him out of the room, hand still warm on Michael’s wrist in the chill of the room, before he was interrupted by his phone buzzing. “Fuck, what now?” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, which Michael found impressive given how stupidly tight they were. Calum let out a huff, letting go of Michael’s wrist so he could send a text back. “Fuckin’ hell. I’m gonna have to go.” He gave Michael a look that really looked like apologetic puppy dog eyes, but Calum somehow pulled it off. “We’re letting in the first group soon. I’ve gotta go back to my booth.”

“Oh, shit.” Michael was pretty sure that was the right response. He was still distracted by the smiles Calum had flashed him just moments before. Sue him, his weakness was cute guys, okay? And social interaction. Especially social interaction with aforementioned cute guys. Like Calum.

“I’m sorry. I guess Ashton will be wrapped up in that, too.” Calum frowned, thinking for a moment. “Are you free tomorrow?”

Michael flushed, a natural reply to being asked that by A Cute Guy. “Uh. Yeah. I have class in the morning, but I’m free after.”

Calum grinned again. “Great. Swing by here again? You can ask for either me or Ashton. We’ll get you taken care of, don’t worry.” He winked at Michael, smile still on his face. Michael felt himself flush deeper, praying it wasn’t too visible in the dim lighting of the haunted house.

“Yeah, uh, okay. I can...I can do that.” Maybe he was reassuring himself a little bit. But it would be fun. Calum led him back out of the room, his hand going to the small of Michael’s back, warm even through his hoodie. If Michael’s blush had faded, that brought it back full force. Calum’s hand dropped once they were back in the hallway, but his hand brushed Michael’s on every other step as he led him back to the front, to the area where Calum’s merch booth was.

“Here we are. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Calum asked, expression earnest. He squatted to pick up a couple of the magnets and buttons that he’d knocked to the floor earlier. Michael definitely didn’t glance at his butt, because he was a very nice person, and very good at resisting things.

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll be here.” Michael was completely fucking incapable of going one sentence without stumbling over his words. It was annoying. It was like being near any attractive guy whatsoever made his brain completely short circuit and stop working. He was pretty sure he just suffered from Dumb Bitch-itis or whatever. It was fine.

After a quick goodbye, Michael made his way to the exit and started the walk back home again. He couldn’t say that excursion was really a failure but he still hadn’t done what he’d meant to do. How many cute guys could work there, anyway? That had to be it. So hopefully he’d function properly next time he had to go, even if Calum and Ashton both completely shut his brain down. The gift card was still in his pocket, even as he reluctantly shucked his outside-hoodie to switch to his sleeping-hoodie. At least this time he didn’t have too much to haunt him before he fell asleep.

Except punching Ashton, his brain helpfully supplied. And with that, his hopes for some peaceful sleep went out the window, just like his critical thinking skills had earlier when he’d had to talk to Calum.

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

Michael prayed that this was the last time he’d have to go to the house. He didn’t dislike it, honestly, it was interesting and incredibly well put together. But he really just wanted to apologize to Ashton and have the whole thing be done with. Or, half of him did, at least. He hated when things got drawn out like this, and something hung over his head. He didn’t like feeling like he owed any debts at all. The other half of him, though, kind of didn’t want it to be over. Because then he wouldn’t get to see Calum or Ashton again. And alright, maybe he was a bit of an emotional masochist knowing that they wouldn’t like him but it was...nice, kind of, hanging out with people. And he wasn’t going to complain about getting to hang out with cute guys. Like...ever.

The thing was, though, it wasn’t like he could really be friends with them. He’d fucking punched Ashton right in the face for fuck’s sake. The friendship ship had long since sailed, and he’d lost any chance of talking to him like a functional person as soon as he’d panicked and hit him. Which sort of destroyed any chances he had in befriending Calum. And maybe he was a little bit lonely, and tired of spending all his free time by himself. The cute guys at the haunted house were a no-go, though, so he wanted to be done with them as soon as he could be.

Michael tugged his hoodie back on, and made his way back out into the outside world, where people weren’t so kind, and there were cute boys to accidentally hit and regret your entire life over. He didn’t want to think about having to talk to Ashton again, or Calum, doing his best to save all of his brain power for actually having to socialize, rather than wasting it on indulging his anxiety now.

He cut through the line again, though it was a bit earlier this time, so it wasn’t as long as it had been, and made his way to the front of the house. One of the workers, in the same haunted house shirts he’d see the others in the days before, stopped him.

“I’m here for Ashton?” Michael said, still not entirely sure of himself, like this wasn’t the second time he’d come back to the house and had to ask for them. “Or Calum.”

The girl glanced Michael up and down quickly, seeming to assess whether or not he was telling the truth. And really, why the fuck would he bother lying? He wasn’t even really trying to get into the house, but apologize fully to Ashton so he could hopefully stop being haunted by the memory of his major fuck-up.

“Alright, come on,” she said, turning on her heel and leading him inside. He followed her back through the room Calum had been stationed in the day before, the merch booth left empty, now, no cute guys with equally cute smiles there to drag him through the maze of the house.

The girl led her down a couple hallways Michael definitely didn’t remember, but he really hadn’t been paying as much attention to the hallways of all things the last time he’d been there. But he was pretty sure he didn’t remember any of this. Which was only reaffirmed when she stopped in a doorframe. “Luke,” she called in, hand on the doorframe. “This guy’s asking for Calum and Ashton. I’m busy downstairs. Can you try and track them down for him?”

Michael could see over her shoulder, but couldn’t see who she was talking to. Luke gave her some form of affirmative, he guessed, because then she was turning back to look at him. “Right. You stay here with Luke. He should be able to find Calum and Ashton. You can wait with him. Good luck.” She turned and headed off back down a couple narrow hallways, leaving Michael more confused than he had been before she’d tried to help.

“Come in, I don’t bite,” came a guy’s voice from the other side of the room. Michael reluctantly shuffled in, already tugging his hoodie sleeves down over his hands. How many times was he going to be shuffled from person to person before he managed to actually give Ashton his stupid gift card and go back to his life of reclusivity, hidden away in his single dorm room. Then he’d finally get to forget how massively he’d fucked up, and not have to think about all the stupidly cute boys that worked at the stupid haunted house.

The room had several chairs set up, with a couple of tables cluttered with a bunch of weird bottles, makeup palettes, and gallons of stage blood. It was empty, except for a girl sitting in one of the chairs, and a guy working on her makeup. He was tall, with ridiculously long legs, and his blond curls pulled back into a small bun, messy, with flyaways wisping around his temples and a couple strands of hair in his eyes when he flashed Michael a quick smile. “Alright,” the guy said, pulling back to inspect his work. “You’re good to go. But maybe try not to fuck up your chest wound next time? It’s not so easy to fix.” She murmured some sort of agreement - and what sounded like an apology - before heading back out, probably to wherever she was supposed to be stationed.

The guy turned to Michael and flashed him a smile, tucking his brush behind his ear and wiping his hands on his thighs before offering one to Michael. “I’m Luke. But, uh, I think you already knew that.” His smile went a little sheepish. Michael just shook his hand, internally cursing himself for having cute boys as a major weakness. Because Luke was definitely cute.

“I’m Michael,” he said, because he was pretty sure he hadn’t yet, and it seemed like the proper time for an introduction. His brain might short circuit a little bit around cute boys, but he didn’t completely forget everything. Usually. Not yet, at least. He was just hoping to keep at least a fraction of his critical thinking skills. So he didn’t end up hitting him in the face, his brain supplied helpfully, even though that had only ever been the one time, and under very different circumstances. It didn’t make him feel much better.

Luke broke into a smile almost immediately, letting out a laugh - more of a giggle, really - that made his nose crinkle. “You’re the guy that punched Ashton,” he said, eyes crinkling a little with amusement. “Holy shit. You’re a legend.”

Michael flushed, feeling his whole face heat up, even though the room was just as chilly as the rest of the haunted house. “Uh. Maybe just a little. The one time.” He scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the ground, suddenly a little nervous. Or...more nervous. Luke was just as cute as the others had been, stray glitter stuck to his hands (and Michael’s palm, now, after he’d shook his hand), and his hair in that stupidly endearing bun. And apparently he knew about the biggest fuck up in Michael’s entire life, which really wasn’t all that good for his already not so fantastic self esteem.

Luke nodded, still looking only a couple seconds from laughing. “The one time. Yeah. Ashton thought it was hilarious. It worked out, though, he got the rest of the day off, and convinced them to fix his position so it hopefully wouldn’t happen again. Well, I mean, they mostly agreed that he could keep his phone on him as long as it was silent so he could call Calum or something to come get him if something happened. But he counted it as a win.”

Luke leaned against the table, hip causing a couple bottles to fall over. Luke flushed, pink covering his pale skin, as he rushed to sort everything out, right all of the bottles. He knocked one of them off the table, squatting down to grab it and smacking his head against the edge of the table on his way back up. It knocked the brush from behind his ear, which hit the floor with a quiet clatter. Luke managed to stand up properly, though, his face red, and clearly flustered. “Um. Anyway. So you- Uh.” He shook his head, more curls coming free of his bun and dancing around his temples when he moved. “Ashton wasn’t upset, you’re okay. He’s kind of hard to rattle. Calum and him have been joking about it, mostly. They just didn’t mention you were cute.”

Michael had watched Luke’s moment with the bottles, eyebrows furrowed in concern, but he hadn’t wanted to overstep. He’d gotten it sorted, anyway, and his head seemed fine. So he didn’t ask, just watched him with the same slightly cautious expression. Luke’s last sentence threw him off, though, and it was Michael’s turn to flush, staring at Luke a few beats longer than socially acceptable. “Oh, uh- you think- I’m not- I’m pretty, just, you know- uh. Thank you. You’re- the same. Cute. I mean.”

Luke laughed, soft and gentle and warm, meant to be with him rather than at him. Michael’s blush darkened, but he didn’t feel quite so bad about being an absolute idiot. “Thank you,” he said, head tilting a little to the side, smile back on his face. Luke was tall. Taller than Calum and Ashton had been, enough to make Michael aware of the difference. No wonder he’d been clumsy, though he’d seemed to have reclaimed his grace now, lanky limbs seeming only to add to his charm and poise rather than detract from it now that his footing was stable and no bottles were falling on the floor.

“So why’d you come back, again?” Luke asked, yanking Michael out of his reverie. He’d moved to straighten some of the bottles and makeup palettes cluttered on the table. He glanced at Michael before his eyes shifted back to what he was doing. And yeah, that was definitely stray gold glitter stuck to his hands, front and back.

“Oh. Uh. I wanted to say sorry to Ashton again. I just...haven’t been able to catch him. Came back yesterday and same thing.” Michael tugged at one of his hoodie sleeves, watching Luke’s long fingers tighten what looked like a tall bottle of latex. And okay, maybe he’d watched a few too many behind the scenes videos of his favourite horror movies, and wasn’t completely brand new to SFX stuff.

Luke glanced up at him again, interest in his blue eyes and all over his face. His hands paused where they were. “You were here yesterday?”

“Uh. Yeah? I was just with Calum for a while but then he got some text and I didn’t get a chance to see Ashton before I had to leave.” He didn’t know what about that was so interesting, but whatever. At least he wasn’t tripping over his words now and could talk to Luke like a proper functioning human being.

Luke hummed but didn’t offer an explanation for asking. “Do you want me to do your makeup or something while you wait?” He asked, as random and out of nowhere as anything.

“What?” Michael asked, brows drawing together again. He was pretty sure Luke hadn’t said what he thought he’d said.

“Do you want me to do your makeup while you’re waiting?” He repeated, gaze as earnest as ever. He wasn’t lying.

“I mean, holy shit, yeah,” Michael said, maybe just a tad too eager. Get his makeup done by a makeup artist at the haunted house that had won awards for SFX? Hell fucking yeah! He wasn’t turning that opportunity down. Hopefully it went better than attending the haunted house had.

Luke beamed, looking absolutely pleased with himself. “Okay, come over here and sit down and I will. Do you want, like, a cut or something? I have a couple spare prosthetic injuries I could use. I know I can’t do the missing eye one on you, you can’t really see in that one. I have a couple of the small claw ones, like I think I used on Ashton? If you want some of those.”

“Uh. Yeah, that works.” Michael made his way over and sat down in the chair, shifting a little bit. He’d never really had his makeup done before, but he was more excited to get to see someone do SFX up close. On him.

“Can you pull the hoodie off?” Luke asked over his shoulder, starting to sort through his supplies. “I need more space. I can do it right below your collarbone, I think. That’s enough space. With Ashton, I think I slotted some at the top of one of his pecs and then some on his ribs, on his side.”

Michael flushed but tugged his hoodie off, getting his head stuck in the stupid thing only momentarily, before it was off and he could ball it up in his lap. Luke turned back to look at him, humming softly to himself. He tugged his hair free from the bun, curls falling freely to frame his face, before pulling it right back again. Just like before, curls too short to fit in the bun curled around his temples and his ears. Luke ignored it, stepping closer with the small prosthetic in hand.

He hummed a little again, eyeing Michael’s collarbones and chest. He tugged the neckline of Michael’s shirt down a little bit, holding the prosthetic up, just below his collarbone as he’d said. “This should work pretty well. Has anyone ever done makeup on you before?” Luke turned to grab something else, probably his adhesive, before turning back and frowning. “It might be easier, since I’ll need both hands for this. You can put it back on afterward, it’ll sit right above your neckline. Right here.” Luke tapped a finger lightly where he planned on putting the prosthetic.

Michael flushed. “Uh. Yeah, okay, I guess.” He really wasn’t used to this. Going shirtless in front of a cute guy? Yeah, that really didn’t happen. Like, ever. He reluctantly tugged his shirt off, though, still not about to turn this opportunity down. The shirt joined his hoodie, both balled up in his lap. He was rewarded with a sweet smile from Luke, before he was surveying the area he wanted to stick the prosthetic, which did little to help Michael’s blush.

“This might be a little bit cold. It’s room temperature, kind of.” Luke started applying the adhesive, completely in Michael’s personal space. “So did you like the house?” He asked, fanning the adhesive with his hand, gaze shifting to Michael’s face. “When you came? Before the thing with Ashton, I mean.”

“Yeah, I did. Uh. I’ve been wanting to come here for years, and I finally got to get a look. I really, really like horror shit, and thought about being an SFX artist but I don’t have the talent at all.” Michael resisted the urge to shift in place, or bounce his leg. He didn’t want to fuck up whatever Luke was doing. “It’s, uh, really well put together. No wonder it’s won awards and shit.”

Luke hummed, tapping the adhesive before grabbing the prosthetic and leaning down, tongue sticking out a little in concentration, as he carefully stuck it down. He held it in place for a moment, pulling back to inspect his work. He moved to grab one of his makeup palettes. “Yeah, it’s a lot of work to pull it together and get everything set up properly. But I can get out of some of it sometimes, since I do makeup.” He grinned at him before starting to add colour to the prosthetic. “You wanted to do SFX?” His gaze flickered up to him again, before again it dropped to what he was doing. “I could always show you some stuff, if you wanted. I’ve been doing it for a couple years, so I think I’d probably be okay at that.”

“Didn’t you guys win something last year for your makeup?” He asked, tilting his head a little bit.

Luke turned pink. “Well, yeah, but that wasn’t just me, that was the whole team. But, um. If you wanted that, I definitely could.”

It was then that it really clicked what Luke was offering. This was a chance for Michael to actually get hands-on experience with SFX and get to see it up close. Not only that, but he’d get the chance to actually do it himself, with someone else’s guidance, and see if he was actually shit at it. And that someone happened to be award winning. And really cute. “Fuck yeah, I definitely want that.” Okay, he needed to curb his excitement. Just a little.

Luke let out another one of his giggles, still working on the colouring of the prosthetic. “Okay. I’m happy to show you. I’ll get your number when I’m done? So we can set up a time?”

Michael definitely didn’t turn pink at that or anything. He was totally suave, totally used to getting cute guys’ numbers, especially while he was shirtless in front of them. Obviously. And maybe that was a little bit of a lie, and this was brand new. And maybe he was a little bit pink. “Uh. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Luke hummed, attention mostly back on the prosthetic. He was silent for a few moments before he spoke up again. “You said you wanted to do SFX. So what do you do instead?”

“Oh, I’m a film student. I work at, uh, Great Awakenings? The coffee shop a couple blocks down from here on campus.” Michael, again, had to resist the urge to shift around in place. Not because it felt weird, but because he didn’t know what to do with himself, or his nervous energy. He couldn’t even tap his foot or anything on the ground, for fear of fucking up what Luke was doing.

“Oh, that’s neat! I’m doing philosophy right now. Ashton’s doing English. Focusing on literature, I think. And Calum’s doing psychology,” Luke flashed Michael a bright smile before going back to his work, still carefully adding pigment to the prosthetic.

“Oh, that’s, uh...pretty cool. What made you choose philosophy?” Michael asked.

Luke hummed a little to himself. “I dunno. Just thought it seemed interesting. I’m pretty happy doing this, but I don’t know if I can make a career out of it. Or if my skills are even enough to try.” He paused. “I know I’m good enough to work here, I just don’t know about beyond that,” he corrected, fingers stilling where they’d been working. It only took a moment before he was back at it again.

Michael understood that, honestly. “Yeah, I know what you mean. That’s why I’m in film. I don’t know how far I’ll make it, either,” he said honestly.

Luke gave him a frown, more adorable than it had any right being. “I’m sure you’ll be good at it, Mikey.”

Michael flushed at the nickname, but didn’t have any time to add anything before Luke was turning around to face the table. “Okay, I just have blood and then I’m done.” Luke grabbed the bottle and a tiny brush, turning around to face Michael yet again. He gave him a tiny smile before he was back to work, tongue poking slightly from between his lips in concentration.

Luke was pretty. Michael was struggling to think about anything else, even with how desperately he wanted to do SFX, and how much he’d wanted to visit the haunted house. It only took a few minutes before Luke pulled back slightly, surveying his work. Good thing, too, Michael was starting to get chilly. “Okay,” he said, eyes still on the prosthetic, forehead creased slightly, lips pulled into a small pout. He looked thoughtful. Michael refused to admit it was adorable. “I think I’m done.” He gave Michael another smile, nose crinkling slightly with this one.

Michael’s number one weakness was definitely still cute boys, because his brain short circuited immediately. He was saved from having to say anything, though, when a girl poked her head in the door, knocking twice on the doorframe to get Luke’s attention. “Hey, house’s opening in a few. Stand by in case of any fucked up makeup.” Luke just nodded, and then she left.

Luke frowned a little at Michael. “Okay, you’ll probably have to go before we officially open and groups start coming through. I might get busy, and we aren’t supposed to have visitors.” Luke chewed at his lip, thinking. “Okay. Uh.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket - Michael didn’t know how he fit anything in his pants pockets, they were stupidly tight and didn’t look all that comfortable - and offered it to Michael. “Give me your number? I’ll text you and figure the whole Ashton thing out so you can say sorry to him or whatever. And then I can show you how to do makeup.”

Michael nodded, taking the outstretched phone from Luke and obediently putting his number in. “That, uh, sounds really great. Thanks, Luke.” He passed his phone back and earned another smile from Luke that definitely didn’t make his stomach flip. Michael went ahead and tugged his shirt back on, careful not to fuck up his new prosthetic.

“Okay, sweet. Can you find your way out or do you want me to show you?” Luke asked, as sweet as he’d been the whole time.

Michael shook his head at the offer, though. “I’m okay. I can get out. Thanks, though. I’ll...I’ll catch you around?”

Luke gave him another smile. “Yeah. See you, Mikey.”

Michael made his way out of the haunted house for the third time, hoodie balled up in his hands despite the evening chill so he didn’t get fake blood on it. And maybe he stopped in front of the mirror once he got home to look at his makeup, stupid grin on his face remembering Luke (and the other cute boys that worked there). And maybe, just maybe, that was the first night since he’d punched Ashton that he didn’t seriously struggle to sleep.

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

Michael had almost forgotten the whole dilemma, when he woke up to a text from Luke. The phone screen was stupidly blinding in the darkness of his bedroom, and he cursed himself for bothering to check his phone in the first place. To be fair, though, he’d only wanted to see the time - he slept with his phone on do not disturb for this very purpose - he hadn’t expected the text.

Luke H: hey, r u free 2day? :-)

Michael stared at the text, blinking sleep out of his eyes, before he managed to get his brain to function enough to reply. And of fucking course Luke added a nose to his emojis. He might have only met the guy once, but it definitely seemed like a Luke thing to do.

Michael: yeah I should be. y?

Michael didn’t have a chance to even roll over before Luke had replied, phone buzzing again in his hand. Did Luke have nothing better to do? It had to be fucking early in the morning, and Michael’s main priority was going back to sleep. Though, in Luke’s defense, it usually was.

Luke H: no reason

Luke H: can u meet me at that coffee shop @ 1 later 2day?

Luke wasn’t making any more sense, even with his clarifications. And Michael was way too tired to think too much about his cryptic messages. So he just agreed.

Michael: yeah

His phone buzzed again, seconds after he’d hit send. Did Luke have nothing better to do than text Michael at fucking nine am on a Saturday morning? Didn’t he know how to sleep in?

Luke H: great :-)

Michael tossed his phone to the side with a sigh, resolving himself to being awake way, way too early. This wasn’t usually how he spent his mornings; normally, he slept in until noon if he didn’t have work, and spent the day catching up on homework he didn’t feel like doing during the week, and finished the day with pizza and a few rounds of FIFA. He didn’t usually meet cute boys at the coffee chop, for god knows what reason, and he usually didn’t wake up so fucking early.

The rest of his day passed slowly, starting with two cups of coffee to try and keep himself awake and functional. He could hear his mum in his head, reminding him that nine am isn’t even that early, that most people were already awake and functional by that point. So he just shook his head and told his imaginary mum to piss off, and that he wasn’t most people.

He managed to waste most of the day away until he was already running late to meet Luke. He tugged on a hoodie that he’d only worn once that week, making it objectively cleaner than most of his other ones.

By the time he made it to the coffee shop, he was a couple minutes past one. Which was fine, it was pretty standard for Michael. He never really knew what time it was, but he tried his best. At least he was only a couple minutes late this time. Hopefully Luke didn’t mind too much.

Speaking of the devil, Luke had taken a seat in the corner and, when Michael spotted him, was mid-laugh at something Ashton had said to him. Ashton, who was sitting right next to him, grin on his lips. Oh, fuck. Had Michael just been invited to fucking third wheel them or something? You could third wheel a friendship. Michael knew that, from trailing after a pair of best friends when he was a kid, before he’d just decided to be a loner for the rest of his life. But they seemed awfully cuddly now, too. Maybe they’d just invited him to laugh at him.

Or, the much smaller rational part of his brain pointed out, maybe Luke had invited Ashton since Michael had wanted to apologize to him again and had never gotten the chance. Maybe Luke was just being nice.

Michael just did his best to shove all those thoughts aside. There was no point in freaking himself out now that he was already here. Better to just figure out what Luke had planned and get it over with. Or enjoy it, maybe. Maybe.

Michael made his way over to their table, awkwardly taking his seat in front of them. Luke turned and gave him a bright, happy smile. “Hey, you made it!” He greeted, clearly pleased. “I went ahead and brought Ashton, I hope you don’t mind. You said you wanted to apologize, and we both think you’re pretty cute, so-” Ashton smiled fondly, but nudged Luke anyway.

“Don’t freak him out right after he gets here,” Ashton chided gently. He gave Michael that warm smile, shifting in his chair. “Hey, Michael. Good to see you again.”

Michael nodded a little, socialization abilities immediately leaving him. “You look good,” he said, before flushing. “No, you don’t. I mean - fuck - I don’t mean that, I mean you look good now that you’re not covered in blood. Or, you looked good then too. Well, not really, because I hit you in the nose-” Michael snapped his mouth shut. “I mean, it’s good to see you too.”

Ashton just laughed, good naturedly, but Michael was pretty sure he was one fuck-up away from them hating him. Still, though, his laugh managed to calm some of that built-up nervousness he was holding on to.

“You look good too, no worries,” Ashton said, corner of his mouth pulling up into a smile.

Michael just nodded a little, steeling himself before he spoke. “I’m, uh. Really sorry about hitting you. I didn’t mean to at all, and still don’t know how I managed to fuck up that badly.”

Ashton gave him another smile. Luke was busy fiddling with one of his curls, clearly only half paying attention to the conversation, if at all. “It’s okay. Really. You didn’t do any lasting damage, and you didn’t mean to. I’m fine now, and it made the managers have to reconsider the position. Besides, it just meant Calum and Luke were a little overprotective for a few days. I’m fine now, but they were worried for a couple days about bruising and possible lasting damage. You should really be apologizing to Luke for having to deal with blood.” Michael must have looked confused, because Ashton continued. “I don’t know why, but it freaks him out. He’s fine with all the SFX shit, he’s okay with gruesome fake injuries and fake blood, but any time there’s real blood? He freaks out.”

Luke abandoned his curl, tucking it behind his ear, to pout at Ashton. “Hey. I just don’t like it.”

Ashton gave him another stupidly fond smile and draped an arm over the back of Luke’s chair. “I know.” Michael felt like he was third wheeling, again. Which, okay, Ashton and Luke were cute, but he couldn’t help the way his stomach dropped a little. He’d thought they were pretty cute, and he hadn’t deluded himself into thinking anything would happen with either of them. But it didn’t really make it feel much better to realize he was third wheeling.

Sometime into his quiet sulking (which only could’ve lasted a minute or two at most), Calum had come up behind him, because now he was pulling out the chair next to him. Michael was effectively caged in now by attractive guys. Which, okay, was manageable. If his brain would stay functional. At least now he wasn’t third wheeling Luke and Ashton by himself anymore.

“Hey,” Calum greeted all of them, smiling in the way that made his cheeks squish up and his eyes squint. And okay, yeah, Michael definitely needed to get back into the dating world.

“Hey,” Luke said, brightening a little again at the sight of Calum. “Michael came.”

Calum nodded, giving Luke the same fond smile Ashton had. “I can see that, babe.”

Luke reached his hand across the table, towards Calum. Calum took it, gently squeezing his hand. And fucking great, had Michael gone from third wheeling to fourth wheeling? Was fourth wheeling even a fucking thing? It clearly was, if what he was thinking was correct. Because Calum, Luke, and Ashton seemed awfully fucking close - Calum had just called Luke babe, for Christ’s sake - and he was pretty fucking sure they were all dating. Or involved together in some way. So why fucking bother inviting Michael if they were going to act like that? It wasn’t like he thought it was a date or anything, but it seemed...rude to just be all couple-y with a fourth person there.

“I’ve gotta take a call,” Michael said, and the excuse to step out sounded lame even to his own ears. But it had seemed like they’d been...maybe not flirting with him, but flirty, and he felt pretty fucking awkward fourth wheeling them the way he was doing. So he wanted an excuse to step outside for a moment and breathe. He pushed his chair back, wincing at the noise it made, and awkwardly stumbled outside of the door. The bell above the door chimed as he did, which did nothing for his annoyance.

He took a few steps to the side, so he wasn’t in anyone’s way if they tried to go into the little coffee shop. He leaned back against the wall with a sigh, forgetting his excuse, and completely forgetting that he should probably at least pretend to be on the phone. Even if his phone hadn’t been ringing in the first place.

His melodramatic inner monologue of suffering was interrupted by the stupid bell chiming again. It earned enough of his attention to look up. And none other than Luke was standing there in front of him, apologetic smile on his face. “Hi,” Luke said, making his way a little closer.

“Hey,” Michael said, a little unsure.

“I just, uh...I’m sorry,” Luke said, fidgeting a little in place. His gaze shifted down to his feet, where he was absently scuffing the toe of his converse against his other foot. “I should have warned you about us. We just...it’s still kind of new, telling people, and we all...well, we all thought you were really cute, and I thought the rest of it would be easy if I managed to get you here. But life isn’t really like the movies, and I was kind of a dick to not at least warn you. Ashton said I should have, and he was right. I should have.”

Wait...what? Michael was left reeling a little. At least he wasn’t fucking crazy, and he’d been right about the three of them being together. Or, that was what it sounded like, at least. But the rest of it? What did Luke mean by them thinking he was cute? What the fuck? Why did Luke have to be so cryptic? “What?”

Michael was pretty sure Luke blushed. He just scuffed his toe against the ground again, before making eye contact. “I’m dating Calum and Ashton. Or, we’re all dating each other. Um...and we thought you were cute. We think you’re cute. And I fucked up and should have explained all of that earlier. So you didn't, uh...get blindsided by it when you got here.”

Well, that was...a lot. And unexpected. “So...is this a date or something?”

Luke shrugged. “It is if you want it to be.”

Michael considered that for a moment. Did he want it to be? He’d never dated more than one person before - hadn’t really dated many people in general, honestly. But he didn’t dislike the idea. He had gotten along with all of them individually pretty well...and they were already established, right? So maybe it would be easier for him to just join that. Maybe. “I think so, yeah.” He nodded a little.

Luke grinned, shoulders sagging a little with relief as. “Great! I’m sure we’ll talk about everything soon. Like, boundaries and limits and telling other people and the future and stuff like that. Ashton and Calum are pretty good about all that.” Luke reached for Michael’s hand, and he took it, letting Luke lace their fingers together. “For now, though, let’s go get coffee.” Luke tugged him back into the coffee shop, a triumphant grin on his lips. Michael couldn’t help the smile he gave him, just as fond as the ones Calum and Ashton had worn earlier. Something about Luke’s happiness was just...contagious and sweet. It made you happy to see him so happy.

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

The relationship ended up working out like a fucking dream. Michael had never felt so supported in his life, and he was pretty sure his boyfriends felt the same way. After the initial coffee date, they’d gotten themselves established, and talked about what they wanted and what they wanted the relationship to look like, and the future, just like Luke had said. And, to absolutely no one’s surprise, the conversation was guided by Ashton.

Telling his mum had arguably been the hardest part, but even that was made a little easier with their support. Answering her questions hadn’t been fun - he’d deflected the over-the-line questions, as anyone else would, and flat out refused anything rude - but they’d gotten it taken care of, and she’d been about as accepting as Michael could have hoped.

As promised, they managed to get Michael a job at the haunted house the following year. One of the managers had gotten fired after the incident with Ashton - not that that had been the cause, but he’d been a massive dick about it, according to Calum and Luke, and it hadn’t been a good look, so he’d gotten canned - which let Calum get a promotion. Ashton was happy to stick with being an actor. As long as, he’d said when they’d broken the news to Michael, stupid grin on his face, no one else punched him in the face. He didn’t want another boyfriend. It had earned him three eye rolls, and three fond smiles, from each of his stupidly indulgent boyfriends.

But it had meant there was an opening for the merch stand, and Michael would get three glowing reviews. So they’d managed to get him the job. And, Calum had reminded them at the time, pleased smile on his face, they had a lot of sway with one of the managers.

So after everything got settled, Michael’s life was the best it had ever been. He had three loving, supportive, wonderful boyfriends, a job he loved, and date night every Friday. Even if he was working, they were happy to come sit and entertain him until he was off. He didn’t feel left out with them anymore, either; after that first time, they’d gotten it sorted, and were quick to comfort and console him.

Ashton never fucking let him live down the way they met, though. He made dad jokes about it as often as they let him - “watch out for Michael, he packs a punch,” “ah, Michael’s got quite the feisty personality,” “Michael’s really got a nose for this sort of thing. He fucked up mine, so it’s only fair, I suppose” - which was way, way too often, given how bad they all were. Michael couldn’t even bring himself to care, though. Not when accidentally punching him in the face had been the one thing to pull his life together. Ashton’s dad jokes were definitely worth all of that.

#5soshalloweenevent2020 #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin fanfiction #luke hemmings fanfiction #michael clifford fanfiction #calum hood fanfiction #my writing #queue #yall i am BUZZING im so excited for this and that i wrote PROMPTS and people are WRITING THEM #like i DID THIS SHIT!! and people participated!!#VIBRATING w excitement...#i mean this is scheduled #but its likely that im around when it posts #i need instant gratification u see #i will b getting ready for virtual halloween tho <3

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k7l4d4 · 3 years ago

Text

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 2

Hello, and once again, welcome back to midnight Striga! Thanks for reading!

With a shout, Eda gripped the arm, slamming the attached body onto the ground. Looming over the hooded figure now gasping on the ground, Eda growled. “Now listen here you sneaky bastard, I don’t know who you are but you caaaaaaannnnnnn!?” She trailed off from her threat, shock rising as the hood fell back.

“Oh, hello, Edalyn!” The old woman cheered, flipping herself up and onto her feet. In a blink, she rushed in, pulling a frozen-stiff Eda into a bearhug. “I have so much news to tell you about!”

Luz blinked, eyes flicking between the two, before the features clicked. Eyes widening, she shot Eda a look. “So… this is your mom?” She asked, pointing at the woman.

Shaking herself back into the present, Eda groaned, lightly shoving the woman away. “Yes, unfortunately.” Giving a deep sigh, Eda turned to Luz, gesturing to the woman next to her. “Luz, meet my mother, Gwendolyn Clawthorne, and one of the single most recurring pains in my butt. Speaking of which,” She turned to Gwen, scowling, “What do you want, mom?”

Gwen gave a beaming grin, tilting her head in apparent thought. “Is it really such a shock that a mother would want to see her daughter?” She asked, neither aware of the way Luz tensed at her question. Both Gwen and Luz reeled back at the response she got, however.

“Yes.” Eda bit out, intense bitterness coating her voice. Standing firm, she put both hands on her hips, head tilted up in anger. “Everytime… EVERYTIME!! You’ve visited me since I’ve been living on my own, it’s been to try some cockamayme cure for my curse. And they. Never. Work!! So yeah, I’d say it’s reasonable to be a little skeptical.” She finished, panting slightly at the exertion of her outburst, lightly covering part of her wrist, and the feathers underneath.

Luz desperately held in the urge to shout at Eda for talking about the woman before her like that, but she could grudgingly admit to seeing where she was coming from. However, neither of them were fully prepared for Gwen’s reaction. Gwen gave a tired sigh, a sad smile forming across her features. “I do suppose I deserved that.” She chuckled, reaching up to Eda’s face, tracing a hand across her jaw, much to her daughter’s discomfort. “I promise, Edalyn, I just want to talk. That’s all. Please?”

Eda bit her lip, conflicted. On the one hand, she was sick and tired of being burned by her mother’s antics… and on the other hand, she was sick of her family being in pain, and was honestly wanting to have genuine quality time with her mother for once. Deciding to take the risk and just bite the bullet, Eda sighed, relenting. “Okay, fine! We can talk.” She said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. Turning a raised eyebrow to Luz, Eda asked, “You want in on this, kid?”

Seeing the two witches giving her matching looks of inquisitiveness, Luz blinked, before rapidly shaking her head. “Oh no!” Pointing to Eda, she continued, “You need this a lot more than I do at the moment, and, if that brief back and forth was any indicator, the two of you have enough issues to work through WITHOUT me being thrown in.” She stated, stepping back, arms raised. Shooting Eda a brave smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll just make a day of it in town. I mean,” she shrugged, “I’ve kinda got to get used to people being suspicious of me in public all over again, why not start now?”

Coming to an agreement (“If you die, I’m selling all your stuff!” “Love ya too, Eda!), the group headed their separate ways, promising to catch up later. Gwen giddily dragged Eda along, who was personally torn between annoyance at the manhandling, and amusement at her mother’s amusement. “Yeesh, calm down, Gwen! You’re gonna rip my arm off!” Eda half-joked. Gwen’s yanks actually did have a real chance of removing her arms, but it’s not like that was a problem with her condition, really.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear, I’m just so excited!” Gwen squealed, a sheepish grin filling her face. “I just…” Her smile turned sad, “I just really wanted to see you.”

Eda gave her own sad laugh. “Don’t worry, I can understand the feeling.” Her mind flashed back to how she was after she and Raine split up, all the nights she wished they were back, wanting to see them. A thought came to her. “Hey, I just noticed… where’s Hawksley?” She asked.

Gwen gave her a mischievous wink. “Oh, he’s just looking after our other guest.”

Eda shot her a look of bafflement. “Other guest!? What are- oh no.” She groaned, as realization set in. Turning her gaze, she was in no way surprised to see Lilith, glumly slumped over a table before them, Hawksley perched on top of her head. What did shock Eda, however, was the bottle of Appleblood Lilith was chugging. Turning accusing eyes towards an unrepentant Gwen, Eda shouted. “SERIOUSLY!?”

Cheerfully whistling to herself, Luz strolled along, using the noise of her whistling to tune out the whispers and muttering all around her. It was honestly a neat trick, but she was well aware it wouldn’t work forever, especially if she ended somewhere more crowded. Scanning the area, Luz was disappointed, if unsurprised, by the sight of parents tucking their kids behind them as she moved past. It hurt. It was understandable, but it still hurt.

Sighing, Luz slipped into the shadows, rolling her eyes when the sounds of the main streetside picked up in volume at her ‘departure.’ Still, the sheer amount of gossip was entertaining, if only for the wild speculations and rantings of the more… colorful members of the local communities. Seriously, her? A shapeshifting giraffe seeking to supplant the Emperor through a false army of Abominations wrapped in Illusions? Pfft! She was gonna have to tell Eda that one, preferably when she was trying to drink something!

Laughing internally at the thought of an Owl Lady Spit Take, Luz tightened her movements against the wall. Her ears pricked at the sounds up ahead; it didn’t sound like the usual rampant paranoia. And if she focused enough, she was almost certain…

“Look, I know things are… really crazy right now.” Amity’s voice sounded out, confirming Luz’s suspicions. “But I honestly think this’ll be good for all of us. The Moonlight Conjuring is an important aspect of our culture, and is a funtime all around. If you all show up while it’s still daylight, nothing should go wrong.” Moonlight Conjuring? Hmm… something to talk with Eda about.

“B-But what if those Oroboros creeps attack again!? I can’t put my parents through that!” An unfamiliar voice questioned, concerned murmurs of agreement sounding in response.

Amity’s voice sighed. “I… I know it’s scary. The things I saw at the Covention, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget, not entirely.” Her voice took a melancholy note, before firming. “But in a way, that’s why we have to do this!” At the sounds of confusion, she continued. “That attack was supposed to make us afraid, to make us all panic. Something that it’s managed in spades all across the Isles. But for all that Oroboros is powerful, it’s an organization with a finite amount of resources. They can’t be everywhere at once, and no organization would commit precious resources to attack a party for school youths!” The nervousness died down, replaced with cautious contemplation. Luz gave a little smirk; Miss Blight apparently had a way with words, and some serious charisma if they were already changing their tune.

“I’ll go.” A familiar voice said. It took Luz a moment to place it; it was the voice of that girl who Boscha had burned! Her voice spoke up again. “If you can find someone to protect us, just in case, I’ll go.”

“W-Well, that’s fantastic!” Amity said, faux-excitedly. If Luz had to guess, her friend speaking up had caught her flat-footed, and she was trying to get things under control. “And I know just the person to do so! If you all show up before sundown, I promise, on the Blight name, you’ll all have an amazing time!” At that, all potential opposition crumbled, a chorus of agreements and cheers going up. As sounds of footsteps headed off, Luz peaked around the corner. She saw Amity, jerkily waving goodbye to her… friends? Acquaintances? Her face stretched into a plastic smile.

Suddenly, Amity rammed her head against the wall, knocking her forehead against the stone repeatedly, frustrated grumbles coming forth. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! Oh, I’ll find someone to guard us, everyone! Leave everything to Amity, everyone! I swear it on my family name!” She slapped her hand against her face. “Titan, what was I thinking!?”

“I don’t think you were.” Luz dryly noted, walking out from her pseudo-hiding place. Amity leapt back, startled. Luz noted how quickly she shifted into a ready position, one arm pulled back to cast, the other slightly pressed forward to defend herself, legs prepped to spring to either side and out of the way. She was honestly impressed, the girl had some athletic experience.

“Oh! It’s you!” Amity exclaimed, relaxing slightly, if not fully. “Luz, correct?” She said, more than asked, extending a hand for a shake. Smirking, Luz complied, giving the girl a firm grip, Amity’s eyes widening at the painless pressure. Schooling her features into a cordial smile, she grinned. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Really?” Luz asked, blinking rapidly. She had honestly not been expecting that. She cocked her head. “I kind of expected you to be some level of scared of me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, what you represent terrifies me.” Amity said frankly, the sheer honesty in her voice drawing a surprised snort out of Luz. “However,” Amity continued, her eyes focusing on Luz. “I gained a look into your measure during the Covention. You are wild, independant, and freely and liberally resort to violence even faster than Witches and Demons do. But you’re also loyal, caring, compassionate, and understanding, with a strong sense of duty. While I find you puzzling, your traits are those that I find commendable.”

“HA! Glad to hear.” Luz smirked. Her face shifted into a serious frown, contemplative. “You know, I overheard your little problem. So,” She grinned cheekily, “You need to find a bodyguard, eh?”

“Ugh! Please don’t use that phrase!” Amity near-pleaded, hiding her face in her hands. “My family has been going nuts over my safety. I am honestly lucky that they let me go into town without an armed guard of Abominations!”

Luz snorted, blinking at the mental image of Abominations skulking around Bonesburough, scanning for threats and hovering over an annoyed Amity. “Wow, over-protective, much?”

Amity exhaustedly nodded. “Yeah. My parents… aren’t the best, but they do care about me. Even if they care about our image more.” She said, muttering the last part spitefully. Shaking her head, she refocused on the original topic. “But yes, I need someone who’s willing to stand guard for me and those I plan on inviting to my Conjuring.”

“What about me?”

Amity blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“What about having me be your guard?” Luz elaborated, shrugging. “I’ve got combat experience, free time, and you won’t have to pay me!”

“That’s-!” Amity started, before pausing. She brought her fingers to her chin, eyes narrowed in thought. “That could actually work.”

“Really?” Luz asked, cocking her head. “The offer was serious, but I wasn’t actually expecting you to agree.”

Amity gave a grave smile, nodding. “Indeed, I’m willing to agree to this. If you don’t have any requirements?” She asked, eyebrows raised.

Luz paused, thinking. “If you could invite Willow and Gus, I’d really appreciate it.” She finally said.

“Done.” Amity said decisively, typing up the messages on her scroll. “That honestly works out rather well; ever since their actions at the Covention, their popularity has sky-rocketed and my friends have been wondering about meeting with them so this is an excellent opportunity. If that’s all, I will see you at my home before sunset; you can ask Willow and Augustus for directions.” WIth that said, she turned on her heel, marching off. Luz shook her head at Amity’s antics, before turning to leave herself. Neither noticed the group of individuals perched on a nearby building, the apparent leader’s eyes tracking Luz’s every movement.

“Of course,” Eda muttered, staring in resignation at the sight of her sister, chugging away on the table in front of her. Shooting an accusing stare towards Gwen, Eda moodily stomped over, plopping herself down from across her sister, glaring at her.

“EeeeDalyn?” Lilith blearily asked, words slurring slightly. She hiccuped, bottle awkwardly cradled in her hand, the other bracing her against the table. “Since when are you purple?” She muttered.

“Purple?” Eda said incredulously. She turned to Gwen, concerned. “Is it me, or is she…?”

“Absolutely wasted? No, it isn’t you, she really is.” Gwen noted dryly, casually yanking the bottle of Appleblood out of Lilith’s hands, ignoring her weak protests. “I dragged her out of her barracks, kicking and screaming. I believe a few of the Coven Guards who tried to stop me may be in need of Healing. Now, we are going to take the time to stop, think, and figure things out. As a family.” She said firmly, arms crossed.

The bitter snort came from Lilith, of all people, much to Eda and Gwen’s shock. “A-A family.” She chuckled, swaying lightly. “Is that what we are?” She laughed again, slapping the table. “And here I thought we were a bunch of strangers, pretending we CaReD about each other!!”

Gwen and Eda shared unsettled looks. Gwen hesitantly spoke up. “Now, Little Flea, I know I’ve been… distant, but-”

“DO NOT CALL ME THAT!!” Lilith shrieked, eyes wild, before calming down. “I-I haven’t been ‘Little Flea,’” She muttered derisively, “Since you abandoned me!” She accused, fist pounding against the table.

“Abandon!?” Eda exclaimed, confused and alarmed at her estranged sister’s behavior. “Sis, I don’t know what’s been going on with you, but how has Gwen abandoned you?”

Eda reeled back at the bitter anger in Lilith’s face. “She never came to my induction into the Coven, did you know that?” She said, “She never showed up for any of my promotions, any of my awards, anything!! She just, up and left!” Lilith laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “And here, I learned that she’s been visiting you for Years!! Trying to cure you!”

Gwen’s eyes grew misty. “I have made mistakes, and I apologize for that, Lilybug.” She said, reaching out towards Lilith, unconcerned when she slapped her hand away. “You were always so strong, so independent. I never meant to ignore you. I’m sorry if I hurt you because of it. But that’s why I dragged you both here!” She pleaded, glancing at the two of them. She wrung her hands in nervousness. “I just didn’t want to fail the two of you again. I know I can’t fix the pain between the two of you, and I don’t expect to. I just wanted to get you two together to hash out some ground rules, if that’s okay?” She explained, a hesitant note at the end

Eda and Lilith shared a glance, a moment of grudging understanding passing between them.

Eda turned to her mother first. “Okay, I guess we can do that. But if you’re serious about being in my life for real, I don’t want you coming around with crazy cures anymore.” Her voice took on a tender note. “If you’re gonna come over, I just want it to be so we can spend some time together, okay?”

“And I’d prefer you to visit me AT ALL!” Lilith shouted, some of the slurring fading from her voice. Eda was honestly surprised at how quickly she was recovering; a glance at her neck, and the Healing Glyph tagged onto it explained much; it was forcibly purging the Appleblood from her body, getting her back to normal. Eda winced; Lilith was going to feel like HELL when that thing wore off. “I want you to visit me, ask me about my day, take an interest in my Life!!” Tears pricked at Lilith’s eyes. “I want my mother back!” She pleaded.

Gwen turned a watery smile towards the two of them. “I think I can manage those requests.” She said, a pleased smile on her face. She grew serious. “Now then, If we are going to act like a family, as a whole that is, I am going to be doing my motherly duties, and establishing some rules for the two of you.” She stated, nodding even as her daughters groaned. She continued, ignoring their annoyance. “The rules are simple; Eda, you are to no-longer deliberately antagonize Lilith. If the two of you run into one another, you are to keep a civil attitude and in no way try to anger or upset her. Lilith, you are to cease your attitude in attempting to bring Edalyn in under the guise of being cured. If Edalyn is brought in, it is to be because she is a criminal and flouting the law, not out of an inane desire to cure her. Besides, I strongly doubt Belos would do so in the first place.” She finished, feeling a smug satisfaction at her daughters’ matching look of dumbfounded shock.

“B-But! He promised me!” Lilith said, whined really. “He gave me his word!!”

Eda groaned, even as Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Lilith, Belos’ regime is built on his Coven System, something Eda’s very existence stands in challenge to,” She said gently, “There are no circumstances in which he will EVER cure her. If you bring her in, he will have her thrown into the Conformatorium, and nothing more. He has all the leverage, and all the authority, and you have nothing that could compel him into curing her at your behest.”

Lilith shakily pulled herself to her feet, staggering off, a mumbled excuse echoing as she rapidly walked off, tears in her eyes. Gwen sighed. That had gone about as well as she’d been expecting.

Eda turned an impressed look towards Gwen. “Well dang, Mom! Didn’t know you were such a rebel!”

Gwen shot her daughter an unimpressed look. “I’m not.” She said primly.

Eda had a look of disbelief. “Really? Because you didn’t have a problem calling out Bonehead on his crap.” She said snarkily.

“That is because I am under no delusions as to his nature.” She said, “Belos’ rise to power and initial rule was tyrannical and cold, utterly without mercy. I, and many others, chose to join his burgeoning power because it was literally either him or complete chaos and anarchy. Not everyone can survive it as well as you, Edalyn.” She said archly, almost daring her to protest.

Eda opened her mouth to do just that, but paused, considering. Ultimately, she sighed, pushing herself away from the table. “Yeah, that’s true. I still hate him, and I always will, but I can get why people shacked up with him, even if I disagree with him on principle.” She grudgingly, painfully admitted. Giving her mother a level look. “This, as short, weird, and awkward as it’s been, was nice. I really hope you keep in touch for real, okay?” She said softly, before walking away.

Gwen just smiled, tears of relief and sadness filling her eyes. It wasn’t much… but it was a start.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #gwendolyn clawthorne #amity blight #magic

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bangtanoneshotsx · 5 years ago

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Under The Cherry Blossom Tree-Taehyung

The petals were falling. The cherry blossoms were always at their peak early April. He was always there early April. Under the same tree every year. A stick of candy floss in his right hand. His eyes scanning the crowd until they set on you, a wide grin appearing on his face as you made your way through the crowd.

The candy floss always seemed to be forgotten once he had his arms around you, his head in the crook of your neck as he muttered out the three words that made the tears come back. And always the candy floss was remembered suddenly as you warned him about it sticking to your clothes. Unfortunately when he was younger that warning might have come too late.

See, Taehyung was your best friend. Always had been always will be. Ever since you could walk, you had him by your side, both exploring the new world together. You couldn’t count the amount of times you both had come back to your house, covered in mud, wearing matching grins. Both giggling as your mum sighed, her hands on her hips as she told you to take off your clothes and run up to the bathroom to wait for her. The giggles that would escape you as you sat in the bath with him, two rubber duckies between you, watching as Taehyung played with the shark toy, making it attack the small paddle boat. By the end of each bath together, there was always more water on the floor than in the tub.

On your family’s mantelpiece there was a picture of the two of you. Both in school uniform on your first day of school. Backpacks on and matching lunchboxes in hand. It was the first picture of many first days. Each year you took a picture together. Sometimes you behaved and posed, but most of the time, either you or Taehyung was making a face behind the other, often you ended up with bunny ears. There was around seven pictures all squished onto the mantelpiece. Up until you were 12 you had taken pictures together. Until that phone call. Taehyung had phoned you in tears. A sniffle answered you when you picked up the phone.

“They’re making me come with them!” He sobbed.

“What? Who? What’s going on Tae?”

“We’re moving! Y/N they can’t make me go, I won’t let them. Can I move in with you?”

Despite your best efforts, which included asking your parents if Taehyung and you could have the longest sleepover ever. Maybe mentioning it would last six years wasn’t the best idea. Taehyung was made to move. You could still remember sitting on a pile of cardboard boxes with him, both eating an ice cream you got from the ice cream van only a few minutes ago. Watching as your parents helped his move the boxes into a van they had hired.

“You’ll come back and see me?” You asked, taking another lick of the 99, leaving the flake ‘till last.

“Obviously.” Looking over at the boy you had grown up with. The boy that was currently dripping ice cream onto his red t-shirt, trying to wipe it off before his mother saw, only to make the stain worse. You made him make a promise. Every year, you’d meet under the big cherry blossom tree in the park, when the spring festival happens. Always the first Friday of April. With that promise and a teary goodbye, you watched as your childhood friend got into his car, clutching the small gift you had made him. You could only run after the car for so long, but you still tried. Managed to get a few houses down before you had to stop, watching as the car followed by the van quickly disappeared in the distance.

He had kept his promise. Only once he wasn’t there, and that was because he was stuck in bed with the flu. But even then, he made you video call him. Talked with you under the cherry blossom tree.

It was under the cherry blossom tree you had your first kiss. You must have been around sixteen. Taehyung was waiting for you again. Something was off. He was more shy, avoiding eye contact as you rambled.

“Tae? What’s wrong?” You sat in the shade of the tree, your backs against the trunk. His cheeks flared up as he turned to look at you.

“Can I kiss you?” He stammered out. “I mean you don’t have to. It’s just I like you, like really like you, and I know we only see each other once a year, but it’s enough for me and...” His words were muffled by you placing your lips on his. Just as quick as your lips were pressed against his, they were gone. Your cheeks now matching his as you went back to your position against the trunk, suddenly finding the ground very interesting.

The next year you didn’t look away when you kissed him. The word boyfriend leaving your lips soon after greeting him.

The petals were a constant. Much like Taehyung. No matter how great or terrible your year had been, you were always counting down the days to the first Friday of April. Taehyung would be there, and you could be in your bubble for a few days.

Taehyung had stood under the tree in his graduation gown and hat. You didn’t manage to get to his high school graduation, so he promised he’d arrive wearing the gown.

“I’m so proud of you.” You grinned, placing your lips on his as his grip became tighter, his smile widening.

Not going to the same university didn’t matter to the two of you. Distance hadn’t stopped you before, why would it now? Still, that didn’t mean it hurt any less when you had to say goodbye, the distance growing between you as you moved away as well.

The distance didn’t stop you from meeting under the cherry blossom tree every year for the next four years. It didn’t stop you from gasping out loud as you spotted Taehyung with newly dyed green hair. Didn’t stop you from running your hands with it while he gave a shy smile, shrugging his shoulders at your question about the choice of colour.

It certainly didn’t stop you arriving at the festival after graduating from university. Nor did it stop Taehyung from waiting for you on one knee, an open ring box in his hands. You remembered how you ran to him, instantly throwing your hands around his neck as he almost fell backwards, only to support himself with one hand, the other still clutching the box.

“So?” He spoke, his voice deep and wavering.

“Of course!”

Even without distance between you, you still made it to the tree the first Friday of April. Even with every morning waking up beside him, with goodnights from him, even with the light touches that turned into so much more, you still waited for that day.

While everything around you changed, became a little bit more scary, while you grew up, that tree was your constant. One of the only reasons you and Taehyung had made it this far. It was there through everything.

That’s why on the first Friday of April you held Taehyung’s hand, your bump just showing as you trailed after your son who ran up the hill to the Cherry Blossom tree, a stick of candy floss in his right hand.

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foreverwcnter · 5 years ago

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double trouble

pairing — peter parker x reader

requested — @fairytaleparker : how about a blurb: getting saved by spider-man (not knowing he’s peter) and feeling bad for having a crush on both of them lol

warnings — none that i can think of

summary — you are saved by the one and only spider-man and can’t help but feel guilty for crushing on him and peter parker.

author’s note — this probably wasn’t my best work, but i’ve been working on it diligently. i hope you all enjoy it. feedback is appreciated.

With a phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder as you shifted the bag of groceries in your arm, you were quietly talking to MJ as you walked to her house. It was your movie night together and you planned on watching some classic Disney movies together. It was your turn to get the groceries which led to where you were now.

“MJ, I am not telling Peter I like him. No, I’m just going to wait until the crush dies out and I’ll be fine,” you explained, finally taking the phone in your hand.

You already could tell MJ was rolling her eyes on the other side of the phone. “Y/N, do you really believe that? C’mon, you’ve liked him for months now. If it were going to die out, it would have by now.”

“Can’t we just focus on other things? Like how beautiful it is outside?” It was true. The sun was peaking behind a few clouds and a gentle breeze was sweeping through the air, making it seem less hot than it really was outside. It was just a lovely day in spring. You slightly wished you could go on a walk-in Central Park, but Movie Night was non-negotiable to MJ.

“Fine, let’s not talk about boys, even though you need to work on not giving heart eyes to Parker.”

“Thank y- “ You were cut off by the sound of screams, crashes, and explosions. Dropping your phone out of surprise, you stared in horror as some guy in a suit with multiple mechanical arms came crashing down the street.

Picking up your phone, you told Mj quickly you’d call her back before you hung up, beginning to run in the opposite direction, to hopefully get away from all of the commotion. That was until something gripped your midriff tightly. You shrieked in horror, being lifted up by a mechanical hand with a steel grip.

“I’m sure Spider-man wouldn’t let a pretty girl like you die-”

Ohmygodohmygod, you thought. This was it. You were going to die. Looking around frantically, you were blessed with the site of the web-slinging hero swinging his way over.

“Doc Oc!” Spider-man shouted as the villain climbed the side of a building, you still in its grip. “Don’t kill the girl! Please. We can talk this out! Don’t take an innocent life because of me.”

You struggled a bit before giving up, looking at the hero with your terrified eyes. The situation was surreal. You didn’t know what to do because if you fell, you could die but then again, there were plenty of ways that you could get killed.

“You ruined my work, Spider-Man. Someone’s got to pay.”

“And that should be me! Not an innocent person!”

“My work could have saved innocent people!” The Doctor shouted, reaching the top of a building. Spider-man was following closely behind. “I could have done so much and you ruined it.”

A scream left your lips as you began falling through the air. The villain had dropped you, a thousand feet in the air. You didn’t know what to do other than scream and hope your death would be quick and painless. That was until a web attached to your hand, causing you to dangle in the air. No doubt about it, it did hurt when you were only supported by your arm, but when you looked up, Spider-man was beginning to pull you up slowly.

“I got you, I got you,” he murmured, glancing up to see the villain heading off. Pulling you into his arms, he held you close, swinging down to the roof of a smaller building. He was still holding onto you tightly, a hand resting on your waist. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry about that. I- I didn’t think that guy would go try to kill innocent people.”

You nodded swiftly, still nodding as you gulped, trying to compose yourself. That was so scary. You could have died. You would have never seen your parents, or MJ, or anyone ever again. You wouldn’t ever see Peter again. “I-I’m okay.”

“Um, I need to go to my friend’s house. She’s probably freaking out.”

“Let me swing you there. I wouldn’t want you walking alone after something like that,” he blurted out, causing a blush to dust on your cheeks.

“That’d be great.”

Once he swung you by, he was quick to swing off, but once you were inside, he went to the roof of the apartment building across from MJ’s. He ripped off his mask, his heartbeat still thumping violently in his chest. A look of longing could easily be mistaken as sadness as he watched you and MJ through the window of MJ’s bedroom, the blinds lifted up. Peter Parker almost lost you that day. He didn’t know how to recover from that.

.༄

“Are you okay?”

The last thing you expected that school day was for Peter Parker to approach you after Calculus, concern all over his face and hidden deep in his eyes. You blinked for a brief moment, hugging your books close to your chest as if you had been stunned. MJ nudged your side with her elbow and you attempted at a smile, nodding.

“Y-yeah I’m fine. Why do you ask?” You stuttered out.

“You- you almost died yesterday- “

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine. I got really lucky that Spider-man got to me in time,” you smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck anxiously. MJ then grasped your arm and whisked you away, stifling her laughter. Once you rounded the corner she was dying from laughing.

“You’re so dumb, Y/N. You forgot you died just because he was talking to you.” You pursed your lipgloss coated lips into a thin form, crossing your arms across your chest. You knew that Mj was just being herself and picking on you playfully, but that wasn’t the only thing bothering you.

“Yeah well- he’s not the only one. . .” you chuckled, your cheeks heating up to form a rosy color. Your voice was aquiver, full of nervousness to tell MJ the sudden news. As if on cue, MJ’s laugh was silenced as she stared at you.

“No, Y/N, you can’t be serious-”

“Okay maybe because Spider-Man saved me- I’ve got a crush on him!”

“Y/N, seriously? Why?”

You paused, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Look, MJ. It’s not because he’s a superhero. I’ve never met him and he had this genuine concern for me when he caught me. He was kind. Polite. He swung me to your place instantly afterward. MJ, I know it’s crazy, but I do like him. Even if I don’t have a chance with him.”

MJ stared at you for a second, unsure of what to say. She always seemed to have something to say after you spoke, but now she was at lost for words. After a few silent moments, she muttered, “ Goddammit, you’re insane. Let’s go to lunch.”

You chuckled as she swung an arm around your shoulder, both of you heading to lunch, trying not to worry about boys or superheroes for the time being.

Meanwhile, Peter was hiding behind a corner, a grin resting on his face. He had only overheard you speaking about a certain superhero - but he hadn’t heard you had a crush on him in his normal identity.

“Ned, she likes me! She actually likes me,” Peter rambled, going on and on about how it was almost a dream come true. Ned didn’t even bother to shut up until he realized something. It wasn’t him that you liked. It was his alias. “Dammit, no. She likes me when I’m a hero, not dorky Peter Parker.”

“But Spider-man is dorky Peter Parker.”

“No Ned. When I’m Spider-man, I’m not the wimp who deals with Flash’s shit and I’m not the nerd that spouts out random facts. I’m a hero when I’m Spider-man. When I’m Peter Parker- I’m just me.”

Ned frowned, crossing his arms. “Look, Peter. Unless you confess, you’ll never know if she likes the real you.”

Peter let out a sigh, silently pondering on the thought if you really did feel the same for him when he didn’t have his red mask on. He’d find out eventually, but for now, Peter would win you over under the mask.

.༄

You were sitting in your room, soft music playing from your phone as you laid on your bed holding a book of poetry above your face. Your eyes skimmed the words on the page quickly, but you gathered all the information from it within one glance. Reading was always something that made you feel at peace. Unfortunately, the peace was interuptted by a knock on the window. ‘

Sitting up, you almost gasped at the sight of Spider-man waving to you from outside the window. You hurried over, opening it up as he made his way in.

“Hey,” he greeted you.

“Hi,” you breathed out lightly, attempting at an awkward smile.

“I-I just wanted to check up on you. I know that the whole situation must have been terrifying for you. I was worried,” he stuttered out awkwardly. A smile twitched on your lips.

“That’s so sweet,” you mumbled, looking down shyly. “I’m doing okay. Still, a bit shaken up but who wouldn’t be?”

You couldn’t tell if Spider-man had been smiling under the mask or not, but you wanted to imagine that he was. There was an awkward silence between you both, but the hero seemed to beat you to it.

“Okay look, I’m- I’m a student at your school and I really like you but I don’t know if you’d like me without the mask.”

You stared in shock, jaw slacking a bit. Crossing your arms, you knitted your eyebrows together as you thought about it. You had the chance to find out who he is. The chance to get to know him more.

“Will you tell me?”

Staring at you through the mask, Peter felt his nerves working up and putting him in an anxious state. Reaching up, he slowly pulled the mask, ruffling his dark curls on his head but he didn’t remove his eyes from yours. Your e/c eyes widened in complete shock. Your body stiffened a bit and when you snapped out of your daze, you blinked softly to finally acknowledge the fact Peter was Spider-man.

“You probably think I’m such a dork and that I’m not fit to be Spider-man but I am and-”

You cut him off with a kiss. You leaned up, locking lips with his. He froze, eyes wide and staring at your closed ones. After a moment, he melted into the kiss, tasting the cherry lip balm you coated over your lips earlier. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb running over your cheekbone. When you pulled away, you both let out a soft laugh.

“Pete, you were my crush before you even saved me as Spider-man. I’m shocked you haven’t noticed,” you breathed out.

“I’m oblivious to a lot of things and I’d say having two crushes is double the trouble,” he smirked playfully, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“It sure was.”

↳ taglist — @hey-its-grey @natalia-rushman @glimmering-gamora @lovesick-valkyrie @pufflypuffle @uglypastels @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @spidermansmj14 @simi11 @abby-blxck @pxterbpxrker @softboydeacon @scoobieboobiedoo@euphoricmads @not-jay-c @marveley @jammelchinas @sadgirlhours247 @neverlandparker @fairytaleparker @dahliaspidey @thegirlwiththeimpala @hey-it’s-grey @starklovebot @glimmering-gamora @lovesick-valkyrie @pufflypuffle@uglypastels @Learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @spidermansmj14 @simi11 @abby-blxck @bbyaubergine @pxterbpxrker @softboydeacon @Scoobieboobiedoo@euphoricmads @not-jay-c @marveley @jammelchinas @sadgirlhours247 @daphsingsalot @neverlandparker @dahliaspidey

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itsafanficthing · 5 years ago

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My Sassenach - Choices

It's been a second, hasn't it?! Sorry for the delay. It was a mixture of things. 1. I didn't write anything. 2. I wrote something, hated it and deleted it. 3. I wrote something and sat on it for a while, unsure if I was happy with it. 4. I went on vacation. 5. I got sick and cracked a rib. 6. I'm back and ready to post.

I hope you enjoy :)

Link for A03 is here

Try as she might, Claire could not stop thinking about her first date with Jamie. Specifically how the date had ended. In bed. Naked. Which was an issue because she was meant to be doing her rounds on the ward and her mind continued to wander. Thinking about Jamie. His hands. His mouth. His unbridled enthusiasm. The memory was good, certainly, but Claire couldn’t wait to see him again and do it all over again. Refresh her memory as it were.

The old woman cleared her throat bringing Claire’s mind back to what she was doing. She had the chart in her hands, her pen hovering over the spot she was supposed to write the blood pressure. Except that the screen was now blank and Claire, for the life of her, couldn’t remember the numbers.

“That doesn’t seem right,” she mumbled, hoping to sound like she had been thinking deeply over the numbers, rather than lost in her own imagination (the way Jamie’s fingers danced across her skin, the way the sweat gathered at his hairline, the joy on his face as he collapsed beside her).

“I might just try it again,” she said a little louder to her patient. Claire flicked the machine back to life and watched as the cuff swelled on the patient's arm. Her eyes flicked up to the screen and she told herself that she would focus and memorise the numbers. She wouldn’t think about the way that the muscles in Jamie’s stomach contracted when she ran her hands down his body feeling the coarse, springy hair on his chest. Or the way that he had fallen asleep next to her, a quirk of his mouth that told her that he was happy, or at the very least- satisfied.

129/80. Claire blinked clearing her head and she quickly wrote down the numbers from the screen.

“That’s what it was a’fore, when ye first took it,” the old woman said as Claire removed the cuff from her arm.

“It’s a bit high, I wanted to make sure,” Claire explained, glad that she had double checked. 129/80 was quite high and she might need to talk to one of the doctors about giving the old woman something.

“Can I get you anything? A cup of tea? Another blanket?” Claire asked as she hung up the board and packed away the machine ready to wheel it back out of the room.

“Aye, a cuppa would be grand,” the old woman grumbled. Claire couldn’t remember her patients the name, despite the fact that she had just been looking at her chart.

“Of course. I’ll be back in a moment.” Claire wheeled the cart out of the room, parking it out of the way before taking a deep breath and shaking her head. ‘Get a grip, Beauchamp.’

Her date with Frank had gone exactly how Jamie had said and now Claire was anxious to see Jamie again. Unfortunately her working schedule seemed to have other ideas and she was posted on evening shifts for the remainder of the week.

Jamie had replied to her message after her date with Frank with a not so subtle “told you so” and Claire wasn’t particularly looking forward to having him rub it in her face. Though she was looking forward to seeing him again and hopefully making whatever they were, a thing. An official thing.

Claire returned to the patient's room (Mrs Harland) with a cup of tea before plopping herself back down at the nurses station and rubbing her eyes.

“Ye alright pet?” The voice of Claire’s best friend said from above her.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” Claire answered, keeping her head in her hands.

“Weel, by my watch ye’ve still got another two hours left in yer shift and ye have’na yet told me about yer date.”

“Oh, that,” Claire grunted as she looked up her friend who was watching her carefully.

“Aye, that. What happened?”

“Well,” Claire drew out the word as she sighed. “His name was Frank,” Claire said as Geillis nodded eagerly. “And it went about as well as it would go with someone named Frank,” Claire finished while Geillis cackled with laughter. “Not that there’s anything wrong with the name Frank,” Claire continued as her put her head in her hands. “I don’t know… He just… he called me “Darling”. We’d only just met for goodness sake, and he called me “Darling”.”

Geillis (uncharacteristically) wasn’t saying anything, but her grin spread from ear to ear.

“I suppose you want all the gory details then?” Claire asked as she raised her head to look at her friend.

“Aye, o’ course I do. This is what happens when I’m in a relationship and ye’re single. I can live vicariously through ye, and cringe at all yer atrocious date stories.” Gellis drew out the chair next to Claire with a flourish and plopped herself down as the springs in the ancient chair squeaked. “Go-on then, I’m ready.”

Claire rubbed a hand over her face as she groaned. “Well, I was late” she began before Geillis immediately cut her off.

“Yer never late!” She exclaimed in surprise. “Ye’ll turn up early to yer own funeral.”

“I know, not exactly the best start to a date,” Claire shook her head before she continued. “We saw a movie, he’s a teacher… no, a historian and it just… there wasn’t really a spark. I made a joke, and you know, it wasn’t overly hilarious, but then I had to explain it to him, and it just… there was no flow. Anyway, we saw a movie, which was fine and then we went and had a coffee afterward and…” Claire paused as she tried to pinpoint exactly what was wrong with the date with Frank.

“What happened when ye went for coffee? Why did ye even go for coffee if ye kent the date was’na goin’ that weel?” Geillis interrupted Claire’s thoughts.

“I went because… well, we hadn’t really talked very much and I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t missing something.”

“Ye said that there was no spark, did ye ken that before or after the coffee?”

“After for sure, but… I suppose I knew it at the start. I just didn’t want to be to hasty in making a judgement before I had actually spoken with him,” Claire explained.

“But ye’ve got yer other lad. Why go on a date in the first place? There’s already a spark there isn’t there? Or is that no more?” Geillis pressed, and Claire looked up at her friend in surprise.

Claire hadn’t told Geillis about the date with Frank until she needed to, and clearly Geillis had many more thoughts on the matter than Claire had expected.

“I told you, I don’t like cancelling plans,” Claire answered hesitantly.

“I dinna believe that for a momen’. Ye dinna like cancelling plans,” Geillis scoffed sarcastically. “That’s not a good enough excuse, Claire, and ye ken it.”

Claire opened her mouth to respond before closing it again. No, it wasn’t the only reason she had agreed to go on the date. Yes, she had been the one to respond to Frank and set up the date and it would have looked bad for her to pull out the day before, but it wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world. Maybe if they had gone on several dates before that one and she had found someone else, then yes, she would owe him the courtesy of a date or a meeting to at least explain that it would be the last time they saw each other. But this was a first date. People cancelled first dates all the time, Claire had been the recipient of a few late cancellations but for some reason she had followed through with this one. Despite Jamie’s obvious discomfort with it. Despite Geillis’ surprise when Claire told her about it. Despite Claire’s own misgivings about meeting someone new when she knew that she would only be thinking about Jamie. Why was it so important for her to go on a date with Frank Randall?

Geillis suddenly let out a noise of understanding and Claire looked back her friend who was in turn studying Claire quite intently.

“What?”

“Yer scared,” Geillis answered confidently, leaning forward on her chair as if to emphasize her point. “Yer scared that yer putting all yer eggs into one basket wi’ this other lad, who has actually seen you for you.”

“Geillis, that’s not-” Claire began before Geillis waved her off.

“Yer scared that ye might feel something for this other lad, what’s his name?”

“Jamie,” Claire supplied quietly.

“Jamie, aye, ye might feel something for Jamie, and so ye immediately went lookin’ for a way to sabotage whatever ye have with him.” Gellis sat back proudly and waited for Claire to respond to her diagnosis. When Claire didn’t say anything, Geillis said “thought so” quietly, causing Claire to frown at her.

“Yes alright. Christ. It is scary. This thing with Jamie is much, much more than I ever thought it would be and when I saw him with another woman, I panicked.”

“Ye saw him with another woman?” Geillis sat up quickly and nearly fell off her chair.

“It was his sister,” Claire waved off the question and was about to continue when Geillis interrupted her again.

“His sister? He told ye that?”

“We had dinner, and it came up and … and...” Claire stuttered before she was interrupted by Geillis again.

“Let me get this right. Ye saw Jamie with another lass, so ye organised a date with another lad. Then it turned out to be his sister, and ye followed through on this other date because yer scared about what ye feel for Jamie, and so ye thought that going on a date with someone else would what, change how ye felt?” Geillis summarised the past few days of Claire’s life with frightening accuracy.

“Well it sounds bad when you say it like that,” Claire groaned as she covered her face in her hands.

“It does’na matter how I say it pet, it is bad. Yer a right daft numpty, aren’t ye?”

“Yes, I know, it was a mistake.” Claire’s voice was muffled from behind her hands but she didn’t dare show Geillis how red her face was as it burned with shame.

“It’s more than a mistake Claire. Christ. Yer supposed to be a functioning adult, and this is the stuff of… of girls… of people that dinna ken how their actions affect other people. I’ve seen toddlers with better cognitive reasoning than ye right now.”

“I know.”

“Do ye? Jamie kent about this other date?”

“Yes, we spoke about it. It’s how I found out that he was with his sister and not some other woman.”

“And he was alright with ye seein’ another man?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Claire answered hesitantly.

“And that wasn’t enough to cancel yer date with this other lad?” Geillis practically screeched at Claire. “Christ! If he still wants to see ye now he’s either a complete eejit or totally taken wi’ ye to the point that he’ll act like an eejit.”

Claire didn’t know how to respond and rather than incriminate herself further, chose to remain silent.

“Yer scared about what ye feel for Jamie,” Geillis clarified as Claire nodded stiffly in response. “So ye led this other lad on, in the hope of distractin’ yerself from what you feel. Jesus, Claire. What if it had gone well? Then where would ye be?”

“Well, it didn’t. So that’s not so much of a worry anymore.”

“It certainly is still a worry. Now ye’ve got to explain to this other lad that ye dinna want to see him any more, and puir Jamie is probably goin’ out of his mind wonderin’ if something minor ever happens between the two of ye, that ye’ll go straight out lookin’ for another lad. Did ye not think of any of this?” Geillis rubbed her forehead as if she was trying to banish a persistent headache while Claire chewed her thumbnail nervously.

“I’ve spoken to Jamie,” She said quietly as Geillis looked at her skeptically. “We’ll work it out. If… if what we have is on the same page as each other, then I’ll delete the app.”

“Ye think that will be enough?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Christ Claire!” Geillis exclaimed almost jumping out of her chair and making Claire flinch. “Yer one of the smartest people I ken, but yer verra stupid sometimes.” Without waiting for a response, Geillis continued, “Ye went straight to another man when ye got spooked. Datin’ Apps are’na the only way of meeting people.”

“But I’m not like that, I don’t go hooking up with random men on the street,” Claire defended.

“Aye, I ken that, but I’ve also known ye for nigh on 14 years. Ye’ve known Jamie for all of three weeks, ye think he kens that about ye?”

Claire once again opened her mouth to respond, but realising that she didn’t really know what to say, she shut it again.

“Yer an absolute numpty, ye ken that, don’t ye?” Geillis said with a sigh as Claire nodded in agreement. “When are ye seein’ Jamie again?”

“I'm working evening’s all week. Not till Saturday.”

“Thank god ye’ve got time then. I hope ye’ve got a hell of an apology speech prepared for him, not to mention the one ye’ll need to give to this Frank lad for leading him on.”

“I didn’t lead him on,” Claire quickly defended as Geillis rolled her eyes.

“Ye organised and went on a date with him, and went to get coffee with the lad. Ye led him on.”

“But I haven’t contacted him since the date,” Claire tried to reason.

“From yesterday? Ye have’na contacted him since yesterday? Weel, yer a bloody saint then aren’t ye?” Geillis said sarcastically.

“I’m not saying that!”

“Aye, but ye are’na takin’ responsibility for goin’ on this other date when ye kent it was the wrong decision.”

“I didn’t realise that you had such strong feelings about me dating Jamie,” Claire grumbled, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I saw ye after yer date with the lad. Ye were different, and I’m seeing ye now after yer other date. There’s a difference and ye’ve royally fucked up between the two of them.”

“I thought that the whole point of dating was to see what was out there.”

“Aye, but when ye find what is out there, ye dinna go and make plans with somethin’ else. Ye get together wi’ what ye found.” Geillis sounded exasperated with Claire, and Claire’ couldn’t really blame her.

It had been her fear that had made her reach out to Frank. Her fear that she was too invested in Jamie. Her fear that he was seeing another woman. Her fear that this new relationship, or whatever it was with Jamie was a match, not a bonfire. Something that would strike and burn brightly, but disappear soon after. She wanted a slow burn, the burn that would keep her warm for years to come and it was the fear of losing it, and if she was really honest with herself, of actually having that kind of relationship that made her make stupid, impulsive decisions. She was stupid for going on the date with Frank, rather than just cancelling it, she was stupid for stringing Jamie along and she was stupid for thinking that she was meant to keep looking, even after she was sure she had found what she wanted with Jamie.

“It’s not just you, Claire. Ye brought other people into yer life, ye invited them in and they are affected by yer decisions,” Geillis said softly.

“I know,” Claire sighed. “I didn’t realise that you were so invested in all of this, invested in me.”

“Yer my best friend, I care about ye and who yer seeing. But I’m also the kind of person that’s going to call ye out on yer bullshit when yer sabotaging yer own happiness. And that’s exactly what yer doing.”

“So I should be thankful for this verbal smackdown then?”

“Aye, ye should always be thankful for a conversation wi’ me.”

The two women sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts before Geillis spoke again.

“What do ye think Jamie is goin’ to say?”

Claire shrugged. “I don’t know. We made plans to see each other, but… who knows if he’ll want anything to do with me, knowing that I am a complete ass.”

“Weel, havin’ seen yer arse, pet, I’m sure he’ll want a little more of ye,” Geillins grinned cheekily.

“Charming,” Claire snorted as she rolled her eyes.

“Just… dinna be making any more rash decisions, talk to Jamie, like an adult and make a decision from there. Ye also need to contact this other lad, Frank, terrible name, and let him down easy. He might have had a good time wi’ ye and it’s better to be honest wi’ him now, rather than leave it and leave him wonderin’ what happened. Edinburgh is remarkably small sometimes and ye dinna want to be runnin’ into him on the street, caught unawares.”

“A wealth of knowledge as always Geillis,” Claire said with a sigh as she stood up and stretched her legs, ready to complete the next rounds of her patients.

“Aye, older, wiser, better lookin’,” Gellis listed dramatically before also standing and looking over her charts.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Claire laughed before she headed down the hall, grinning, but also with a thousand thoughts running through her mind. Geillis had brought up some things that Claire had tried very hard to ignore. What to do about Frank and how the hell was she supposed to apologise to Jamie?

The week simultaneously dragged and moved faster than Claire anticipated. She was eager to see Jamie and in those moments the days dragged by as Claire checked her watch, waiting for the day to end to be one day closer to him.

Other times she was petrified of seeing him, not knowing what she was supposed to say to him and at those times the clock took on a life of its own and the day was done before she’d really had a chance to process it.

She and Jamie had been texting back and forth- It wasn’t complete radio silence. Jamie (thankfully) hadn’t brought up the other date and Claire had been steering clear of any conversation that would discuss what exactly they were.

Frank had sent her a message on the dating app two days after their date. Claire hadn’t replied. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. She also hadn’t deleted the application. She wanted to do that in front of Jamie. A symbolic gesture to show that she was committed to whatever they were.

She knew that she would have to bite the bullet and message Frank back, but what the fuck was she meant to say to him?

-I had a really nice time with you, I can’t wait to see you again.-

The message from Frank felt like it was burning a hole in every pair of pants she owned when she put her phone in her pocket. She knew that it would be a simple message and she knew that she was definitely making a bigger deal out of her reply than she needed too but none of that helped her actually compose a message.

Friday night, the end of her work week, her last evening shift, saw her sitting on her couch in her light blue scrubs, thumbs hovering over the screen on an empty message to Frank. Throughout the week she had decided that she needed to reply to him before her date with Jamie. Jamie needed to see that there wasn’t going to be anyone else on her standby list while they discovered… whatever it was that they were.

-Hi Frank.-

The blinking cursor taunted her as she tried to figure out what to say next.

-I had a nice time on Monday-

Claire paused. She’d already led the man on once, did that sentence open him up to more hope. Claire deleted the sentence.

-Thank you for the movie on Monday.-

Good lord. She sounded so formal. Was she breaking up with a business acquaintance?

-Despite the good time we had on Monday I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other again-

Fucking hell. It sounded like she was being held for ransom by someone.

Claire closed the app and googled “how to break up with someone on an app”. Fuck it. If google couldn’t help her she was screwed.

After reading several articles and pulling a few ideas together she crafted her text.

-Hi Frank, thanks for the movie and coffee the other night. I’ve given it some thought and while I enjoyed talking with you, I don’t think that we should see each other again. I hope your deep dive into Scottish history is as rewarding as you made it sound. Wish you all the best. Claire.-

Claire tweaked, poked and prodded the message until she was finally happy with it. Taking a deep breath (and a few shots of her very expensive, supposedly delicious whisky that made her gag) she pressed send.

There. It was done. She was as polite as she could be and she’d done it. She didn’t know why she was so scared about sending that one message. She’d sent messages to men that she didn’t want to see before. Although most other dates she had been on had either been so terrible she didn’t mind shutting them down, or they both hadn’t felt a spark or anything close to a spark and had never contacted each other again.

There was nothing completely wrong with her date with Frank Randall, it was just that there wasn’t anything that was totally right with it either.

Claire almost leapt off her couch as her phone vibrated next to her.

A message from Jamie. Goodness why was she so jumpy?

-What’s the plan for tomorrow?-

Claire had put a lot of thought into her date with Jamie on Saturday. Or rather, she had put a lot of thought into the end of the date, she just hadn’t planned the before part… the actual date.

-Dinner at mine?- Claire suggested. She could make dinner. It was only fair. He had made dinner for her last week, besides she needed to impress him someway- try and butter him up before she apologised and they had “the” talk.

Claire waiting impatiently for Jamie to reply, flicking aimlessly between apps (Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, back to Facebook, Tumblr, Facebook and so on).

Finally Jamie responded, she gave him her address and then that was that.

Claire sat on her couch, restless. She was tired after her week of evening shifts and her talk with Geillis had left her somewhat rattled. It called up a lot of the thoughts that Claire had been forcibly trying to ignore about herself. That at the core of herself, as much as she wanted to be confident, she was not. When all those layers were stripped away though, she was scared- she was terrified of being alone. Thank you unresolved grief from childhood. The death of her parents had really done a number on her.

The thing that terrified her the most about Jamie is that she felt more like herself then she had in a long time when she was with him and she didn’t really know him that well. There was just something about him that made her want to show him who she was- And that was fucking terrifying.

Geillis had said that she’d known Claire for 14 years, and that was right, but it was only in the last three years that Claire had really opened herself up to her friend.

Claire had known Jamie for three weeks and she wanted to tell him about her whole life, things that had taken Geillis years and years and years to get out of her.

Claire wanted to impress Jamie. There was something about him that made her want to do better- to be better- and still she went on a date with someone else.

Trust. Claire struggled with the concept of trusting people. The people that she trusted, left, and quite quickly at that. First her parents in the accident, then her fourth grade best friend that suddenly decided she didn’t want to be Claire’s friend anymore. Her first boyfriend, Aaron, who Claire thought would be her husband (the naivety of a 16 year old) who decided that Claire’s friend Katherine was a much better fit for him. They’d been married for almost four years, so he was probably correct in thinking that, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Then her Uncle Lamb. Cancer was meant to be a slow death, Claire was supposed to have time to say goodbye, but he was gone far too quickly for her to even process that he had gone when she was putting him in the ground.

So what was it about Jamie that made her want to impress him and tell him every gory aspect of her fucked up life? Why did she want him to see everything that she was and (dare she think it) love her anyway?

Every other date that she’d had with that stupid app, she had dressed up, straightened her hair, worn clothing she could hardly breathe in, let alone eat in and tried to impress them, and nothing worked. Nothing made her want to, for the want of a better word, expose herself and show who she truly was.

Maybe it was just the fact that she went on the first date with Jamie as herself, no fancy frills, no suit of armour and he decided that it was enough (more than enough) for him.

Although, by that logic- she had also gone on the date with Frank as “herself” and that didn’t turn out so well. She even told him about her memories of her parents, something she hardly ever spoke about (despite the fact that it was rarely far from her mind).

Claire rubbed her eyes tiredly and felt her phone vibrate on the couch next to her. Thinking that it was a message from Jamie she swiped it open without opening her eyes.

Her brow furrowed as she read the same text she had seen before. Not a message from Jamie then. Swiping down on the notifications she saw something from Frank in the dating app.

Crap.

Of course he was bound to reply to her. She could just ignore it. But then she wanted to show Jamie that she was deleting the app and she didn’t want to show an unread message. Truth be told, she was planning on showing him the conversation between her and Frank to show that she was well and truly broken it off. Claire scoffed at herself. “Broken it off” like she had been seeing the man regularly. It was one date.

-So no second date then? I was thinking we could go on a walking tour of the castle and I could show you a bit more about my line of work. You seemed so interested. I’m free tomorrow?-

Claire’s eyes widened at the message and she read her own again, just to confirm that she had definitely not left the window open for another date.

“I don’t think we should see each other again.”

No, it was definitely there. Claire’s fingers hovered over her keyboard as she tried to figure out how to reply.

-The fuck? No!-

Claire snorted at the message and deleted the words.

-I don’t think so. Have a good night.-

There that was polite and nice and simple and it didn’t lead to any further conversation… or further suggestions of a date.

-Sunday then?- Frank replied and Claire laughed out loud. He was persistent, should could give him that… though not necessarily a good thing, especially when a woman says no. Claire couldn’t think of a time when she had ever say “no” to a man, only to be thinking “dear god yes”. Otherwise she would have just said “oh dear god yes”.

-No. I think it best if we left things here.-

Claire hoped that a more straightforward approach would put an end to the conversation.

It didn’t.

-I thought you had a good time?-

Claire didn’t reply. It didn’t seem worth it.

-Could you at least tell me why?-

The message started to come in quickly then.

-Claire?-

-You’re not even going to reply?-

-Just going to pretend like we didn’t have a nice time together?-

-Claire?-

-I think it’s a pretty reasonable request.-

-This is incredibly rude. Just ignoring these messages.-

-It’s not like I’m asking for something difficult. I think I deserve to know why, especially when you said yourself that you had a nice time.-

-So you didn’t have a good time then? That was just a line? I don’t need your pity.-

Good lord. She’d picked a real winner here. This was more than a close call with a relationship with someone. Claire had well and truly dodged a bullet.

-I go on a lot of these dates. I thought we had something and you’re just going to blow your chance without even talking to me about it.-

-Really mature Claire.-

Claire laughed at the messages. She couldn’t help herself. Yes, in this scenario she was the immature one. 12 messages in a row and she was the one that wasn’t handling things like an adult. Thank goodness she had Jamie to look forward to tomorrow. She clicked off her phone, silencing it from the onslaught of pings that continued to come from the dating app and went to bed.

—

Saturday. Jamie’s day- as Claire had been referring to it in her head. He wasn’t coming over until dinner time and Claire was going to use the time in between productively. She was going to clean her house. She was going to wash her hair and shave, wax and pluck every unsightly hair on her body. She was going to exfoliate, she was going to moisturise, she would do a sheet mask, drink a glass of wine and make the best dinner Jamie had ever had in his life and then if things went according to plan- she would completely and thoroughly fuck his brains out.

—

Claire’s house had never been so clean, since the day she moved in several years ago, her skin had never been so smooth since (she was sure) she was born and the dinner she had made was the best tasting thing she’d ever made on the planet. Well, to be fair- The second dinner that she made. The first dinner didn’t make it out of the oven so well after she’d fallen asleep on the couch with her face mask on and woken up to the smell of smoking vegetables and a pile of ash where a piece of lamb used to be.

Claire fixed her hair, was bravely wearing minimal makeup and had changed into three (eight- she didn’t count just switching out a shirt to be a completely new outfit) different outfits. Now all she had to do was wait. She sat on her couch staring down a glass of wine. Jamie said that he would be there at 7pm. It was 6:32. She could have just one glass while she waited. Though truthfully, it would be her third.

The first was when she was removing every unwanted follicle of hair from her body- liquid courage.

The second was when she was making her second round of dinner.

The third was sitting on the coffee table in front of her. Waiting to be drunk.

As she made up her mind and took a sip there was a polite knock on her door.

6:45 (had she really been staring at a glass of wine for fifteen minutes?). The sudden onslaught of butterflies in her stomach made it difficult to swallow the mouthful of wine. Looking around her living room she confirmed that everything was in place before she opened her front door.

—

Damn it- he was attractive. Damn it- he was mouth watering. Damn it- she needed to stop objectifying him. Damn it- she needed to stop becoming so speechless whenever she saw him. Damn it- she needed to pay attention to what he was saying. Damn it- she needed to move out of the doorway.

“What?” She asked stupidly. She hadn’t even greeted him. Why was he so damn attractive? There was just something about him that just did things to her. He wasn’t even that dressed up. Casual jeans and a dark blue button down shirt. What would he look like in a suit? Or a kilt? Claire’s mouth ran dry at the thought.

“I said ye look bonnie, Sassenach.”

Goodness. Had it really only been a week since she’d heard his smooth Scottish burr? Only he could call her Sassenach and send her weak at the knees.

“Please come in, make yourself at home.” Claire stood to the side and he ducked his head at her as he passed. Damn it- he even smelt amazing. People like Jamie Fraser were simply not allowed to exist.

—

Claire closed the door slowly behind Jamie. He seemed to know his way through her apartment well enough. She needed a moment to catch her breath. Seeing Jamie again was like being smacked in the face with a wave of emotion. She missed him. She actually missed him and seeing him again was like feeling a piece of a puzzle slide into place. She’d thought it before- on their first date. It was like coming home. Of course it was much, much too early in… whatever they were, to be feeling things like that- she just hoped that her face wasn’t telling Jamie all of that. She knew she had a glass face and she really didn’t want to scare Jamie off with the depth of her attraction to him.

“Good week?” Jamie asked conversationally was he watched her plate up their dinner.

—

Best. Meal. Ever.

Claire was very proud of herself as she saw Jamie close his eyes and smell the plate she put in front of him. Yes it smelt good. She just prayed that it tasted good as well.

“Busy. Working. How about you?” Claire poured a more than generous amount of wine into their glasses.

“Aye, same. Lots of spelling errors, grammar issues and I read one truly awful manuscript. Vampires, wolves and fairies set in 3045 but everythin’ had gone backward to 1645. Didn’t make a lot of sense.” Jamie shook his head before he started eating. Claire watched him carefully, waiting for any sign that he either loved or hated the meal.

“It was in that strange category where it was sah bad- it was good- ye ken? Where ye canna put it down but yer just frustrated by the whole thing,” he continued before shovelling in more food.

“I stopped at chapter 14 because the spelling and grammar got so bad I could’na deal wit’ it anymore.”

Claire nodded along politely as she barely touched her food. The butterflies that had been fluttering through her stomach all afternoon had turned into a full blown hornets hive of activity and it felt like they were slowly crawling up her throat- choking her.

“Anyway, I got most of the assignments out the door before they were due, so next week should be easier unless there’s something that I’ve missed.” Jamie paused briefly, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “This is really good. Where’d ye learn to cook?”

Claire’s voice hadn’t yet managed to resurface and she shrugged simply in response. She was being ridiculous. Why could she not talk to Jamie? She had been thinking about their date all week, finally ready to clear the air and now that she actually had him in front of her- she was tongue tied.

“My uncle, living around the world,” she finally said in short bursts.

“My sister Jen is really the cook in the family. There is’na a meal that she’s made that’s been bad. She says she just follows the recipe but I reckon it’s gotta be natural talent. Some people just have, ye ken?” Jamie carried the conversation, if he was aware of Claire’s nervousness he did a very good job of not showing it.

He asked her occasional questions and she managed a one or two word response before he continued in his story.

Claire cleared up the plates- her plate hardly touched and Jamie’s almost licked clean, as Jamie made his way into her living room and onto her couch.

“I didn’t really take much notice of yer place, the last time I was here,” Jamie called out from the living room. Claire almost dropped the plates in the sink as she remembered with student clarity her first (and only) night with Jamie.

“I like the artwork on yer walls,” he continued, unaware of the hot flush that Claire was currently experiencing. “Reminds me of my Mam. She used to paint the same way.”

Claire could hear Jamie moving around the small space and she took the time to take a few fortifying gulps of air before she brought out a tumbler of the good whiskey for him and a cup of coffee for herself.

Jamie turned to look at her as she entered the room and she nearly dropped everything. He was smiling widely at her, deep, long dimples forming on his cheeks and his eyes crinkling at the edges. Blue eyes sparkling and wavy red hair that was in desperate need of a trim. Good lord. Did he know how attractive he was?

“Whisky for you. Coffee for me.” Claire placed the drinks on the coffee table and tried to make herself comfortable on the couch. She tried to relax, she tried to look at ease but as soon as Jamie sat next to her, she could feel herself trembling from head to toe.

“I still dinna understand how ye can sleep when ye have coffee so late. Surely that’s no’ good for ye?” Jamie picked up the whisky and took a savouring sip and closing his eyes.

“I don’t plan on sleeping tonight,” Claire wanted to say but she bit her tongue and shrugged instead.

“So,” Jamie said shuffling slightly so that he moved closer to Claire.

“So,” Claire repeated, carefully putting her coffee on the table in front of him and feeling his thigh brush up against her own.

“Elephant in the room then,” Jamie said seriously and Claire felt her heart sink somewhere to her feet. She knew that it was going to come up eventually and she had braced herself for it all night. Though if Jamie didn’t want to see her anymore, he probably wouldn’t have stayed for dinner. But he probably would want to know all about the date and Claire wasn’t looking forward to that part.

Claire nodded solemnly. She had sworn to herself that she would tell him anything he wanted to know and that she would show him the messages and delete the app. Regardless if he didn’t want to date her, she would delete the app. She’d had enough of the one off dates for a long time anyway.

“We’ve a choice to make here. And it will affect the rest of our night together, so I want ye to think about this carefully. Right?”

Jamie’s voice was soft and Claire was willing her body to stop shaking with nerves. She liked him so much. Why did she have to like him so much? She shouldn’t be this nervous. There was nothing going on between her and anyone else. But if Jamie said that he didn’t want to see her again, she would be crushed. She really liked him.

“Are ye ready?” Jamie asked seriously and Claire took a deep breath.

“Now. I see ye have connect four and monopoly. So. Which is it?”

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander au #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #Claire beauchamp #modern dating au #chapter five #my sassenach #fanfiction #fanfic

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voldemorthatesnose96 · 5 years ago

Text

COLORS IN SILENCE

As an only child of one of the most famous painter in the world, Sander Driesen is also expected to be as big as his father. But life takes turn when he sees a Deaf florist boy whose silence could speak a thousand of meanings.

Disclaimer : if there’s any mistake or misintepretation of my Deaf character, PLEASE feel free to dm me to correct it❤️it means a lot to me. Thank you!❤️

Prelude

“You know exactly what to do, right?”

I want to scream “NO!” to his face but I can’t. It’s always the same question for every single time I want to create something on the blank canvas. WHY does he have to think that I always know what to do, when in fact I don’t?! Unknowingly, I grip my pencil too hard.

“Sander?”

“Yes, Dad. I know.” I say with gritted teeth and start to sketch.

My hand always slightly trembles whenever it touches the paper—scared and doubtful. But unfortunately my Dad and many people think that it’s my ‘signature’ move.

What the fuck is that, actually? Are they blind, oblivious or simply stupid?

At first, I’m not sure whether to sketch a silhoutte or a bouquet of flowers but then I remember the dream I had last night about an abandoned castle and the dancing trees which surrounds its ground; of course it’s weird but somehow I feel so entertain when I wake up and that even bring a tiny smile to my face; which is a very rare thing to happen for these past 4 years. So yeah, I’m going to sketch my dream instead.

“Sander, focus!”

“I’m already focused.”

Dad shakes his head, “you curved this line too hard,” he points to the twigs. ”Fix it.”

Trying hard not to roll my eyes at him, I do what I’m told. I’ve never been the kind of person who could remember the tiniest bit of their dream but weirdly enough, I can recall almost everything that happened last night. How I suddenly walked in this forest which grass were humming melodiously everytime I stepped on it, the wind was breezy and peaceful and the abandoned castle was not as scary as it sound. In fact, the interior was still as good as new but the hallway was the most attractive of all—it filled with many beautiful and famous paintings all around the world from van Gogh to Frida Kahlo. All I can think of is magical.

If only my life is just the same.

For almost 7 years now, I create something that hopefully could transport people’s imagination to somewhere else, almost like escapism from their own cages. Wish they could expand their views just by looking at my arts. Sadly, this little world—little happy bubble I create for another humans, I can’t even go there, not anymore. Day by day, I feel like a robot. Sure as hell my Dad isn’t the right person for me to talk to about my worries and stuff—he won’t understand, he doesn’t want to understand. He’s a famous oil-painter and his arts are frequently exhibited in the most popular art galleries in the world. He was taking a break for 2 years when Mum died; I was 3 that time. Funny, I never feel sad whenever I think of her. For me, she’s just a distant memory that I could never grasp.

“Stop.”

My Dad’s voice startles me and my hand stops instantly.

“What now?” I genuinely ask.

“I think you should take a rest.”

Okay. This is weird.

“But I’m not tired.”

My Dad sighs. His brows furrows, “just do it, son. You can continue later. For now, rest.” And without saying another word, he walks out from the room and closes the door behind him while I just stand there.

I have no fucking idea why he suddenly acts like that. This is the first time since many years ago and I can’t help but feeling curious. Dad is never a warm person around me. All he cares about is to carve me to be someone just like him, to be the perfect artist, to be... everything he were and I used to be so supportive of his ideas, without questioning a single thing; like a good son should be. It all changed though.

For almost 3 years now, I constantly feel hollow and unsatisfy about my arts. Whatever I do to make it right, whenever I try to fix it, these feelings are still there; lingering, waiting for me to collapse at last. Know what? I almost relent. For whatever reason.

If I believe in miracle, maybe this is how it works because I’m still here and doing what I’m supposed to do. But right now, Dad’s right. I need a rest. Maybe even some sleep.

Our art room have a tiny bed in the corner and I sleep there more often that I did in my own room. I used to locked myself in this room for hours just to finish the new art I’m making and Dad never asked if I’m okay or not. Maybe it’s normal for him. The way artist should behave, I guess.

I plop myself on the bed while staring at the white ceiling, waiting for the sleep to take me away. It doesn’t take long for me to finally give in and once again, for so many nights, my heart screams “help...”

————————

School isn’t that hard today. In fact, I enjoy what I learnt. Cubism isn’t my favorite style because it’s too... rigid? I don’t know how to describe it. But the new professor was very clear and creative about it and she made me not wanted to get out of the class and eat in the cafetaria instead. The class dismiss before I know it. Wow. That’s fast.

“Yo, Sandy!”

Without looking I already know who that is because there’s only one person in this world that would call me with the name SANDY and that is Hugo Mulligan; my only friend in the entire school since the day we met as the Freshmen.

“Not in the mood, Mulligan,” I mutter under my breath as I pack stuffs in my red duffel bag. “go away!”

He scoffs, “you’re no fun.”

“And since when Sander Driesen is a fun person to be with?” I retort.

“For once in my life, I agree with you.”

I roll my eyes and he laughs.

“Actually I want to ask you a favour. If you’re not busy today.”

“No. What’s that?”

“I need to go to the bakery and the flower shop.”

“What for?”

Hugo sighs, “today is Violet’s birthday. I told you many times before.”

Oh yeah. His girlfriend’s birthday. An exchanged student from Boston a year ago. Since Hugo met her, he literally never stops talking about how cute and pretty she is—the perfect girl for his dark world, he said, which I thought is bullshit because Hugo’s world is far from dark. I know because I met his family couple times and they’re all lovely, caring and hilarious. Dad as a lawyer, Mum as a chef and two incredibly beautiful male twins who’s not yet 3 years old—Hugo loves them all and it’s clearly seen. So yeah, no ‘dark’ for him at all.

“Earth to Driesen!”

I blink, “yeah, sure. I’ll come.”

“Your Dad is okay with it?”

“He’s in Florence and won’t be back until two days later. It’s fine.”

Hugo claps his hands like a little kid who just got a flashy new toy. A bit overreacted but I never really mind about it. Being friends with someone like him is tiring at some point because his energy seems to never put out but I gradually getting use to it.

“Cool! I’ll drive!”

I never really like to drive my own car. Dad often insists me to use it instead of taking a bus everyday to school and I tell him many times that I don’t want to; probably the only thing that I still hold on against my Dad and I have no regrets, at all.

When me and Hugo finally on the road, he talks about the dinner plan he’s been working on for this past week and my dumbass brain can’t think of anything so I just nod and say “that’s great” as a response. I’m glad he’s too happy about Violet to notices my reaction.

“.... I think it’ll be the perfect opportunity to ask her on a mini getaway for 2 weeks. What do you think?”

“Perfect.”

“I was thinking about Santorini or Lake Como. Which one do you think is more suitable for her?”

I nearly scoff but hold myself back, “you can take her to Sahara desert and she’s still gonna love you.”

Hugo smiles at my witty remarks, “guess you’re right.” And then he starts to sing loudly to The Weeknd.

We arrive at the bakery not long after. I remember this place is kinda new because it used to be an Italian restaurant. Strange how small detail could take space in your memory, even for an useless information like this.

Though I have to admit that their decoration and cakes are visually pleasing. I even intrigue to try their paris-brest.

“Take whatever you want, Sandy. It’s on me.” Hugo said as he waits in the queue and even gives a smirk when he catches me almost drooling.

“I’ll just take that paris-brest.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

Hugo nods, “sure. Take a seat and wait for me, would you? I won’t be long.”

But of course there isn’t any empty seat left because this place is full. So I go outside and wait there, a bit annoyed that I didn’t bring cigarette with me today.

I watch people passing by and mentally sketching their silhouttes to kill some time but the more I try to make it vivid, the more blur it is in my mind—so I give up. My hands trembles for an unknown reason but obviously not because of the spring breeze.

“I’m done. Let’s go!”

I follow Hugo back to his car and luckily my hands are alright now. The last thing I want Hugo to see was the tremble. I don’t want him to look at me weirdly or worse, concerned.

“Here’s your cake, Sandy.”

If I’m in the mood, I’ll smack his head with my bag for calling me that but today I have no energy.

“Thanks. Gonna eat these at home.”

“You can gobble ‘em up here if you want. I don’t mind.”

I smile, “I’ll save these guys for tonight. Best thing always come late.”

“If you say so,” then Hugo looks at his watch and mutters. “Shit.”

“What?”

“I completely forgot that the flower shop will closed in 20 minutes! God, I’m so dumb!”

“Is it still far away?”

“About 10 minutes but not with THIS traffic.”

I examine the road and realise that there’s a car crash. The ambulance already there and one of the car is wrecked almost thoroughly. I hope there are no children involved. What a terrifying sight to see.

“Stop looking, Sander,” Hugo says, his tone is always serious whenever he calls me by my real name. “It’s no good.”

“I just hope they’re alright.”

Hugo doesn’t say anything but his hands on the wheel go rigid. I notice that immediately but doesn’t say anything. For more than 2 years we’ve been friends, this is the first time I witness him being like this.

“They’ll be alright. They have to.” His voice sounds icy cold but worries at the same time.

His sudden remark startles me, “I hope so too.”

After that, none of us talk to each other until his car stop near the flower shop. I think there’s nothing special or extravagant about this place, considering how Hugo loves being surrounded by something over the top sometimes. Well, maybe he does have layers that I don’t know yet—especially after what happened earlier.

“You stay?”

“I’ll go with you.”

Because it’s boring to wait alone again rather than curious of what’s inside, to be honest.

“I’m lucky the shop isn’t closed yet,” Hugo says with a shaky breath. “Violet would be pleased, right?”

I smile genuinely, “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, pal. Relax. She’ll love you no matter what.”

He gives me a nervous smile as a response.

When I enter the shop, I’m not surprised how simple but clean this place is. Lots of different scent from each flowers catches my nose almost instantly, all at once and I can’t help but sneezes twice.

“Excuse me.” I say while wiping my mouth with a handkerchief.

“Robbie, my man!”

Hugo half-shouting voice make me jump and I follow his gaze; it’s the shop clerk, a guy around my age with unruly brown hair and a pair of eyes like Bambi, wears a green sweatshirt which a little too big for him.

“Cute.”

Shit.

Did I just say ‘cute’ that loud?

“Huh? What did you say?”

“Cute,” I say a little too quickly. “The flowers. They’re cute.”

I force myself to past a glance to that brown-haired guy and he seems doesn’t catch what I just said about him. Thank God. Even though Hugo still looks at me with bemused expression. He’s the first person who knows that I’m a Pansexual and probably the only person in this world—and I’m not definitely not gonna come out to Dad anytime soon. There’s no use.

“Can we hurry? I’m hungry.” I try to change the subject.

It works. Hugo turns his head again to the cute guy and made some gestures I don’t understand.

Wait...

Gestures?

Can it be... that guy...

“Robbie,” he mouths while doing all he can to communicates using sign languages. “My flowers for Violet, please.”

The guy named Robbie smile and nod then later went to the back to get Hugo’s order.

“Hugo, does he...”

“Deaf. Yes.”

“Robbie. That’s his real name?”

“No, it’s Robbe but I call him Robbie just like I love to call you Sandy.”

I roll my eyes to my brain, “fuck you, man. You can’t just changed someone else’s name.”

Hugo gives me a smirk, “I just did, Sandy.”

Before I can say anything, Robbe comes back with HUGE bouquet which consists with any kind of red flowers from rose to tulip. I almost sneeze again but successfully hold myself back.

“Don’t you dare sneeze on my precious bouquet, Driesen!”

“I wasn’t.” I retort but give him my most smug face.

“You’re funny.”

“Sorry?”

“Robbie said you’re funny.”

I look at Robbe and there’s a smile appeared on his face—deadass looking at me in the eyes too. Seems like this guy is very straight-forward and unapologetic.

“Uh... thanks, I guess?”

Robbe shrugs but still smiling. Then he writes something on a piece of paper and gives it to me : “would you like some flowers too? It’s on me.”

I look up, perplex and say, “why?”

He writes again : “because I think you need one :)”

This is interesting.

“Well, okay then. Thank you. What will you give to me?”

Why do I sound more flirty than curious? For God’s sake, he’s a stranger! STRANGER! And I dare to sound like THAT? The fuck is wrong with me?

Hugo snorts beside me. He’s clearly been enjoying himself. But again, I also laughed too hard when he told me the story about him been slipping and falling in front of everybody at his family’s business private party; so yeah, I guess I deserve that snort.

Robbe comes back from the back of the room holding a simple bouquet; there were two Eglantines, one Iris and three Larkspurs. I didn’t speak flowers so I’m not sure why he gives me those but when he hands it to me, I accept it wholeheartedly and say thank you. Robbe smiles and makes some sign that I’m sure it’s meant for “you’re welcome”.

My ears catch a girl’s voice entering the shop. She’s also around my age; with blue eyes, auburn hair and very pretty. Her eyes twinkled like the sun is shining on them.

“Afternoon, everybody,” she says cheerfully and then walks toward Robbe and pecks his lips. “Hey babe! Glad you made new friends.”

Ouch!

So he’s already have a girlfriend and that realisation stings me a little. And I DARED to ‘flirt’ with her boyfriend earlier!

But of course he is. I shouldn’t be surprised. Beside, they looks nice together.

Hugo nudges my arm, “you ready to go?”

I nod and and without saying another word again, I force myself to get out from there. Damn. I should say something to Robbe but I just can’t.

“You okay?”

“Fine. Can we go home now? I’m tired.”

“Sure.”

Ever since I broke up with my ex around a year ago because she cheated, my heart always told me not to trust any kind of affection towards other people. I keep questioning myself what did I do wrong, about her and about us—and whenever I ask her about that, she says “it’s not you, it’s ME. I’m sorry. So sorry, Sander!” . But it only took a month for me to forgave her and know what? We’re friends now, even though she moves to another city with her new boyfriend. Sometimes life can be very strange. I thought she’s unforgivable but seem like I can’t hold grudges for too long—Hugo told me that it’s a bad thing but... I don’t know, part of me doesn’t agree with him for an unknown reason.

“He meant well, you know?”

My thoughts bursts like a bubble, “what?”

“Robbe,” Hugo mutters. “With those flowers.”

I look at my new given bouquet, “you know the meaning of these guys?”

“Well, I coincidentally understand the meaning of those,” Hugo says. “You see, my Mum often bring back Iris home to tell the whole house that good news is coming, Larkspur is my Dad’s favorite because it meant “lightness” and you’re gonna find a vase full of them in his study and the last one which is Eglantine is literally speaks for “I wound to heal” , it was my Grandma’s favorite because it reminded her of her childhood home. And that’s that.”

Now I understand why Robbe ‘said’ that I need some of his flowers but the most surprising part was he seems to understand what I feel just by a single glance.

But it can’t be, can it? It can be just a coincidence that he picks those flowers for me. Maybe they’re the most best-seller kinds there and he thought I might like them too.

And I do. I really, really do.

#wtfock #wtfam #fanfic

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slashhack · 6 years ago

Text

Leatherface (Thomas Hewitt) X Reader: Spring Break

anonymous: May I get a Thomas Brown Hewitt first meeting reader who doesn’t see him as dumb or scary and shows him kindness in small ways. (Perhaps she is on a road trip and gets stranded?)

(Note: Sorry for the ridiculously long wait! Hope this lives up to your expectations! And sorry about the word count... I just couldn’t stop writing, lol.)

“Are we almost there?”

Ash tightens her grip on the wheel, gritting her teeth. “We’re about twenty minutes closer since the last time you asked, but no, Damien, we are not ‘almost there.’”

“God, we’ve been driving forever!” Damien says, sighing heavily. His on again-off again (currently on again) girlfriend, Katelyn, nods emphatically in agreement.

“When are we gonna stop? I’m hungry, and I have to pee,” Katelyn whines.

Ash’s eye twitches. Next to her, in the passenger’s seat, Frankie fiddles with the road map. She seems unaware of the fact that Ash is contemplating driving into a tree to shut Katelyn and Damien up (in a way that doesn’t involve them subjecting the rest of you to gross make-out noises).

“Do we have any water?” You ask. Unfortunately, rather than diffuse the mounting tension, all your question does is shift Ash’s ire to you.

“No, we don’t,” Ash replies tightly. “Which wouldn’t be the case if someone had stocked up before we started, like they were supposed to.”

You sink a little lower in your seat.

Frankie reaches out to place a soothing hand on Ash’s knee. “Deep breaths, babe. There’s gotta be a gas station or a rest stop or something somewhere around here. We can stop in, grab some stuff, and get right back on the road.”

“Wouldn’t have to if everyone had just done their part in the first fucking place,” Ash mutters.

Damien snorts, barely attempting to disguise it as a cough. Katelyn outright laughs.

Needless to say, your spring break road trip with your dorm-mates is not going well. The past few hours have seen growing friction between all of you, and you’re almost certain that - despite the fact that one of the goals you’d made for this trip was to form positive relationships with the others - the rest of the group may or may not be planning on stranding you in the middle of nowhere.

(Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. Sure, they may not seem to like you all that much, but they're not evil. They wouldn't leave you out in the middle of Texas with no way to get home.

...Right?)

At the first rest stop you find, you volunteer to get out and get coffee and breakfast bars for everyone (except Katelyn, who hates coffee). When you’re handing Ash hers, you lose your footing, and about a quarter of the fresh-brewed coffee sloshes onto her lap. Ash swears a blue streak, insulting you in pretty much every possible way. Frankie gives you a sympathetic look as she mops up the spill and consoles her girlfriend, but doesn’t say anything.

When Damien busts out his radio and asks what music everybody wants to hear, you tentatively offer a suggestion, and he ignores you. You repeat yourself, thinking that it’s possible he just didn’t hear you, and he rolls his eyes.

“I heard you, I just don’t wanna listen to some dumb bullshit.” He grins. “My radio, my right to veto garbage tunes, dude.”

Katelyn laughs. “Ooh, put on K-OKLA!”

Damien smiles crookedly and extends the antenna. “Anything for my girl.”

You decide to take a nap.

(At this point, anything is better than this.)

A good while later, after the stash of granola bars and beef jerky has dwindled down to nothing, you finally reach what appears to be a tiny general store in Travis County. You once again volunteer to go on a supply run. (You’re only mildly disappointed when nobody offers to come with you, or even to help you pay.)

The wooden door creaks as you enter, and when you cross the threshold you aren’t surprised to find a homey interior, complete with photographs and a taxidermied buck’s head mounted on the wall. There’s a woman with cat eye glasses smoking at the counter, so you approach with a shy smile.

“Um, do you have anything that comes in wrappers or is resealable?”

The woman takes a thoughtful drag from her cigarette before saying, “I got some jerky I can wrap up for ya.”

You nod, digging out the remainder of the money you had allotted to the trip. “That would be great. How much is that?”

Praying that what you’ve purchased is enough and having nearly depleted your funds, you step outside, plastic bag in hand. “Hey guys, I got some-”

The bag of jerky slips out of your hand.

The van is gone. In its place, you find your suitcase, laying in the dirt. Dumbstruck, you walk toward it.

You can't believe they ditched you. You thought they were better than that. You thought…

You aren't sure what you thought.

They're probably long gone, and now you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere. You don’t have a car, you have barely any money, and you certainly don’t have any idea what the hell you’re supposed to do.

Behind you, the door to the shop creaks open.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” It’s the woman from the shop.

Blinking hard, you say, “My friends left me.”

A gentle hand is placed on your back. “They left ya?” There’s a pause. Perhaps the woman sees your suitcase, because she says, softly, “Oh.”

You take a shuddering breath, and then bend down to pick up the bag. You turn to the woman.

“Is there anywhere I could stay in town?” Remembering the alarmingly small amount of money in your possession, you add, “...For really, really cheap?”

The woman shakes her head. “Ain’t much around for miles.” She hesitates. “But…”

Your breath catches. “But what?”

“Well…” The woman puts a hand on her hip, and with the other hand she adjusts her glasses. “I s’pose you’re welcome to stay with my family and me for the night. Just for the night, now,” she says pointedly. “Then tomorrow we can have the sheriff drive you to the next town over.”

You feel a fresh wave of emotion crash over you, and almost collapse under the weight of your relief.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you say. Then you laugh. “Gosh, I don’t even know your name, and you’re being so kind to me…”

The woman smiles gently at you - the first time you can recall her smiling. “My name’s Luda Mae, dear.”

You offer your name in return, thanking Luda Mae again for her kindness.

Against all odds, it appears that your horrid luck is taking a turn for the better.

Luda Mae has two sons. She tells you about them as you help her close up shop and on the trip to her home - first about her eldest son, who sounds curmudgeonly and abrasive, but well-meaning when it comes down to it, and then about her younger son, Thomas. From the second she begins speaking about him, it’s obvious that she adores Thomas; you tell her so, and she nods.

“I love my boy with all my heart,” she says firmly. “Thomas has seen so much pain, all his life… Lord knows my Thomas has earned a little love.”

Luda Mae also tells you about her brother, Monty. She doesn’t have much to say about him, other than that he’s in a wheelchair and that you aren’t to let him bother you.

“You’re a guest, and we treat our guests with respect. If he starts actin’ up, you just let me know,” she gives you a little pat on the arm.

You smile bashfully. “I will.”

When you finally make it to Luda Mae’s family home, you’re curious, but not shocked; you’re a big believer in not judging people based on their appearances, after all. Why would a little old lady, running a mom-and-pop general store, living in a plantation style manor with her family throw you for a loop?

Entering the house, you immediately see an old man in a wheelchair - Monty, you presume - sitting in the living room watching television. He looks up at the sound of the opening door, doing a double-take when he spots you.

“Who the hell’re you? What’re you doin’ in here?” He makes to wheel himself around.

“Now, Monty, don’t you start none,” Luda Mae says. “This here’s a guest of ours. Stayin’ with us for the night, that’s all.”

“What for?”

Luda Mae looks at you, nodding as though to give you encouragement. Taking that as a cue, you say, “My dorm-mates - we were on a road trip, and I got out to buy some food for everyone. By the time I left the store, they were gone. I found my suitcase laying on the ground outside.”

Monty is silent for a moment, as though he’s mulling over your situation. Finally, he shakes his head and turns back to the television, muttering, “Hoyt ain’t gon’ like it…”

Luda Mae scoffs, putting her hands on her hips. “Don’t matter none what Hoyt likes, this is my house, and he ain’t too old yet to listen to his mama.”

Monty doesn’t have a response to that.

You feel your respect for Luda Mae growing more and more by the second.

Luda Mae gives you a brief tour of the house after showing you the guest room, in which you’ll be staying for the night. She walks you through the kitchen, points out a couple of different bathrooms, and tells you where her room is - “just in case of you findin’ yourself needin’ somethin’.” She also, strangely, makes a point to tell you to avoid the basement. You’re curious, but you don’t want to be rude, so you don’t ask why. You do ask if her sons live with her.

“They do. Hoyt’s the sheriff, so he ain’t gonna be home for a while, but Thomas is probably down in the basement. Doin’ what, I couldn’t tell ya, but he just about lives down there.”

Well, that answers your unspoken question, then.

“Don’t you worry,” She continues, “you’ll be meetin’ Thomas and Hoyt. Wanna make sure they know you’re a guest - ‘specially Thomas. He’s a little bit protective.”

Once again not wanting to risk seeming rude, you nod as though you understand. (In truth, you’ve got even more questions now, but you’re not going to interrogate this nice woman in her own home. After all, if there was really a problem with you staying, you’re pretty sure she wouldn’t have invited you.)

Luda Mae is in the middle of asking how you feel about stew when you hear what sounds like a sliding metal door being opened. She gets a slightly nervous look on her face; she lifts a hand to her mouth and says, “Oh, that’ll be Thomas.” She glances at you for a moment before calling, “Thomas! C’mere a second, I got somebody for ya to meet!”

You hear footsteps coming towards you from the direction of the basement. They’re fairly heavy - Thomas must be a sizeable man.

After a brief pause, a figure - a very tall figure - comes to loom in the doorway.

Luda Mae clicks her tongue, putting a hand on her hip. “Don’t be shy, now. C’mon in here.”

Thomas’ shoulders rise and sink slowly in what you suspect to be an inaudible sigh, but he obeys, stepping further into the room. Now, you have a clear view of him.

He’s easily around six and a half feet tall, with long, wavy dark hair that reaches his shoulders. Curiously, he’s also wearing a strange leather muzzle-like contraption that encompasses much of his face; it shows his eyes and mouth, but covers his nose, ears, and most of his skin, and the straps come up over his ears, meeting over the top of his head.

Smiling and giving a little wave, you say, “Hello,” and tell him your name.

You think he gives a short incline of his head, but he doesn’t reply. He looks you over, and you can feel yourself starting to shrink under his silent gaze.

Luda Mae puts a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry none. Thomas just ain’t a talker; don’t take it personal,” she gives you a reassuring little pat, and you relax again.

Luda Mae’s attention drifts to the clock on the wall, and she does a double-take. “Good gracious me, is that the time? I best get supper goin’. Stew is all right, you said?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am!” You say, nodding. “Stew is more than all right with me.”

“Good, good,” Luda Mae turns to Thomas and says, “Sweetheart, you mind keepin’ our guest company ‘til Hoyt gets back? Don’t want him to think we got trespassers.”

Thomas gives a single, slow incline of his head.

Luda Mae seems pleased. As she goes to leave, she pats you on the shoulder and says, “I’ll leave y’all be, then. Don’t you worry; you’re in good hands.”

As his mother rushes off to the kitchen, Thomas gives you an unreadable look, surveying you once again. Apparently satisfied with whatever he sees, he turns around and begins to walk off. You assume that you’re supposed to follow him, so you do.

Thomas leads you outside, and the two of you walk for a bit, toward a small garage which stands separate from the house. When he reaches the entrance, Thomas stops, looking back at you over his shoulder for a moment.

It dawns on you, after a moment, what he wants.

“You want me to wait here?”

Thomas nods.

You smile. “All right, then.”

Thomas goes into the garage. You hear the sounds of metal scraping and what you presume to be things getting moved around. You’re beyond curious as to what’s going on, but you resist the urge to crane your neck and try to see. Thomas asked you to stay back for a reason, after all.

After a few minutes, the sounds stop, and Thomas returns, a sack hefted over his shoulder. He gestures with his head for you to resume following him, and you do so without argument.

“Where are we going?” You ask without thinking. Thomas gives you a look out the corner of his eye, and you feel warmth rise in your cheeks. “Sorry.”

You’ve never encountered someone who can’t speak before. You wonder what it must be like, not being able to verbally communicate. You imagine it must be very difficult.

The two of you walk for a good while longer before reaching a fence that you assume marks the edge of the Hewitts’ property. Thomas grunts, swinging the bag off his shoulder and opening it.

He walks a couple of feet along the fence before pulling out - to your surprise - a bear trap, which he places on the ground, kneeling down to set it.

“Is there… Is there any way I could help?” You ask, startling yourself. Thomas seems to be nearly as caught off guard as you; he glances at you, his brows furrowed. After a moment (during which you consider rescinding the offer, just out of embarrassment), Thomas nods shortly. He picks up the burlap sack and holds it out to you. You accept it, surprised when its weight nearly topples you; Thomas had been carrying it so effortlessly, you hadn’t realised how heavy it must be.

You’re not sure how long you spend following Thomas around the property, setting new traps, checking old traps, and sometimes just stopping to look out over the vast space, but you do know that by the time the bag is empty, your feet are starting to hurt. After the bag is empty and you’ve covered every square inch of the Hewitts’ land, Thomas leads you back to the garage, once more indicating for you to wait outside as he takes the sack from you and goes in.

As you wait for Thomas to return, a sheriff’s car pulls up to the house. A man in a sheriff’s uniform, with bushy eyebrows and light, silvery stubble, gets out. When he sees you leaning up against the outside of the garage, he immediately starts toward you. Taking a moment to recall what you know about Luda Mae’s eldest son, Hoyt, you realise that this must be him.

You smile, waving a bit. To your confusion (and discomfort), this seems to cause Hoyt’s expression to sour considerably. He’s yelling as soon as he’s within earshot of you: “What the hell’re you doin’ on my property?”

You shrink back against the wall, your eyes widening. “I-I…”

“Get the hell outta here,” Hoyt shouts, advancing on you quickly. ��You’re trespassin’ on private property! You don’t get outta here right now, I got a right to shoot ya!”

“P-Please, no! I’m not- I swear I’m not trespassing, I, I-”

Hoyt makes a grab for your forearm with one hand, the other lifting up, and you stiffen, squeezing your eyes shut, preparing yourself for a blow.

Only it never comes.

Opening your eyes, you suddenly find something - or rather, someone - obscuring your field of vision. Thomas.

“Tommy? What the hell’s goin’ on here,” Hoyt growls. “We got trespassers?”

Thomas shakes his head firmly. He reaches back and tugs you forward to stand next to him, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder.

You can see, now, that Hoyt looks bewildered.

Thomas nudges you, and you realise now is your chance to explain yourself.

“I-I,” you pause, take a deep breath, and then continue with as much conviction as you can muster. “I’m not a trespasser, I’m a guest. L-Luda Mae invited me to stay for the night after my… my dorm-mates abandoned me.”

Hoyt doesn’t seem convinced, but just as he opens his mouth, Luda Mae’s voice floats across the yard from the backdoor: “Supper’s ready! Y’all come on!”

“Comin’, Mama!” Hoyt calls back reluctantly. To you, he says, “We’ll just see about that, won’t we, now?” With that, he stalks off toward the house.

You watch him go until the door closes behind him. When it does, you let loose a shaky breath, lifting a hand to your mouth.

Thomas is still standing next to you. His hand is still resting on your shoulder, the strangely familiar weight helping you stay grounded.

“Thank you, Thomas,” you say softly, almost timidly. “Thank you for protecting me. That was…” You sigh. “...That was really scary.”

Thomas seems unsure how to respond. He nods, his eyes avoiding your face.

He doesn’t remove the hand from you shoulder. You find that you don’t really mind.

You reach up hesitantly, placing your hand on top of his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Let’s go inside,” you say.

Thomas nods again, and the two of you set off for the house.

You almost swear that you see the faintest hint of a blush on what little you can see of his face.

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