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afurtivecake · 16 days ago

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choosing violence asks 🔥 7 8 18 22 >:3 - luni

7. which character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because of how fanon acts around them?

i don't have any characters i feel any particular dislike towards. but i did end up giving up on writing a fic because of how people talk about jean and jeremy. it was supposed to be like a bit of a romcom where jeremy feels like everything is going swimmingly with jean being part of the team and everything is a-okay...until cat and laila sit him down like they have something serious to discuss and tell him, hey, dude, i know you wanted a new project to work on this year and you've always wanted a pet, but, bro, jean isn't the answer. and jeremy would be all like, what are you talking about? i don't see jean as a pet! and laila, being the sensible one, would be like, "uh huh... what are your plans for this morning?" and jeremy would answer, "oh, I just was going to take jean out for a wal........." and they'd stare at him judgmentally. and the rest of the fic would be jeremy realizing that he really does do things that could be construed as him treating jean like a pet dog and having a crisis of conscience because of it. meanwhile, jean is like, awkwardly trying to figure out how to seduce jeremy and getting annoyed by how damn difficult it is. like, at first jeremy seemed to be just really dense, and just when he thinks jeremy's finally figured it out, jeremy goes and acts like a chaste and prudish victorian lady. anyway, there was supposed to be like, misunderstandings and shenanigans and attempts to seduce with puppy play. but seeing so many people talk as if jeremy ought only every be a paragon on virtue and the perfect friend and savior jean needs and that jean should never feel any obligation towards him ever has rather soured my enthusiasm for writing jeremy.

8.common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about.

usually if i think people are wrong, i just go ahead and make a post that says what i think is right so i'm surprisingly having a hard time thinking of something for this.

oh ok. yeah, riko isn't bad at exy. neil and the foxes didn't beat riko and ravens because they played a better game. the battle they had between them wasn't even about exy. if riko had truly valued exy rather than power, he would have put everything into the game and the ravens would have won. but he was more concerned with proving he had power. and neil realized that. neil realized they couldn't beat the ravens at exy; the only way the foxes could really take down the ravens is to weaken their team. that's why he sends renee to honeytrap jean and to lure him away from riko. that's why he takes the risk to tattle on riko to ichirou and bring down ichirou's scrutiny upon the ravens instead of leaving it be. in the end, neil doesn't even win playing the position he's fought so hard to become good at. they didn't best the ravens at exy, they bested riko at his own game, the one he took the most pride in: wielding power to win with underhanded means. neil didn't outplay riko - he out-gangstered him.

so no, riko isn't bad at exy. he may not be as good as kevin, but you only need to be half as good as kevin to be loads better than anyone else. and riko was more than half as good as kevin. the problem was that he didn't make his fight with the foxes about exy.

18.it's absolutely criminal the fandom has been sleeping on....

two things: 1. riko ships. 2. nicky ships.

when i first came into this fandom, i was dead sure that there would be a ton, like A TON, of kevriko, neil/riko and jean/riko fics. like maybe even nathan/riko for the freaks. like, idk how you can read aftg and not think, "damn, these 'perfect court' assholes want to explore each other's bodies really badly huh?" like, riko is %100 talking like he's kevin's abusive ex. and don't get me started on neil and riko's insane christmas holiday. in fact i was so sure of this in my mind that i assumed i'd have to wade through oodles of "fix-it" fics or AUs that sand down all of kevin, jean and riko's edges and make them live in domestic bliss, just to find ones that were like, kinda dark and dramatic. anyway i was just coming off the high of finishing tkm and so andreil was my primary concern. i didn't think much about riko ships at all because i assume other people had that covered and if i really felt like it, i'd go trawl through them. and then i discover that apparently other people do NOT already have that covered.

similar thing with nicky ships. in all my previous fandoms, the outwardly cheerful, kinda slutty characters get ALL the ships. like, you cannot take two steps in those fandoms without running into works about those characters getting fucked to hell and back. i just assumed that would happen with nicky and it just...doesn't.

turns out I'M the one that's weird for thinking these things? you don't know how shocked i was (this was before i found out TSC was coming out) to find that people have arrived at jerejean before arriving at kevriko or kevin/nicky/erik? what the fuck guys? now i have to do it myself? come on, folks. this is a 10-year old fandom. what am i missing here?

22.your favourite part of canon that everyone else ignores

ok there is one thing that i really like that i've never seen anyone else like as much as i do and it's when thea barges into their room ready to have an argument and andrew shows up, takes one look at thea and basically goes, meh ok, carry on. it's so funny to me. like, this is the guy who's spent the entire series ready to shank anyone who comes at kevin. thea shows up and andrew's just like, yeah, not touching this one with a ten-foot pole. you're on your own, mate. and then just goes to stand with neil to watch the whole thing like it's a real-life soap opera. first of all, it means that andrew implicitly trusts thea despite never having met her. and second, i like to think it's andrew's way of saying, "you called this upon yourself, kevin." i like to think that andrew's been listening to kevin talk about his long-distance girlfriend whom he ghosted a year ago but fully expects to still want him back this entire time. and he's never said anything about it, because it's not his problem, but he has been silently judging kevin and thinking like, "fucking straight people."

#asking the hard questions here :)#i enjoyed it #asked and answered

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wyverningx · 7 months ago

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ON WIP GAME: IMMEDIATELY TELL ME ABOUT THE KINGDOM HEARTS ESQUE JEAN STORY please 🥺

AHHH it is still in the very early stages so this is subject to change, but there's just something about the significant people in jean's life showing up in every iteration/universe. taking the canon line of renee saying "right people, wrong time" to every corner of possibility. i am just so-very-compelled by that concept, along with nora's confirmation that jean dies in every universe but this one. I JUST THINK IT WOULD BE NEAT TO EXPLORE

i think our working concept right now is jean, in the nest, experiencing these other lives while on the brink of death due to riko (the waterboarding, being pushed down stairs, etc) and then slowly growing addicted to these near-death experiences because the cycle of self-harm and the fact that all of those lives are significantly better and more bearable than his "real" one

i am a diehard KH fan, too, so reincarnation and soulmates and all that shit is basically catnip to me

#aftg #my fics #i want to tease jean moreau apart until i can perceive him on an atomic level

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doodlingstuff · 3 years ago

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Coffee first?

Very late @aftgexchange gift for @rainbow-0bsidian Here's a Coffee Shop AU featuring an evil autumn-colored crocheted nanna-rug. Hope you like it!

---

"I don't even know why I'm letting you drag me into this. I have a paper due tomorrow." Jean says, tapping furiously into his laptop as if the excessive noise will make him go faster.

"Because the two of you need to go out more often! Unless you are, you know, like together, in which case-"

"Don't even finish that thought." Andrew threatens Dan from his place, smoking on the window.

Dan crosses her arms. She's in the middle of the room, where she can look at both men at the same time. The truth is, she knows they both have lives. Or sort of... But she doesn't want to go alone to meet the cute beefcake from the gym on her first date.

They've been eyeing each other for long enough without saying anything, that in the end, it had been Dan who proposed having coffee in her preferred place.

"Okay. I'm done." Jean announces, closing his laptop. "Move it, Minyard."

"I didn't sign myself to be her chaperon."

"And I'm not going to be their third wheel."

"Guys, come on! I never ask anything from either of you."

Both men turn to shot daggers at Dan. Technically, she spends most of the week asking things, but that is because she's the team's captain, and they're supposed to fall under her command.

"I'll buy you a slice of each cake," Dan says to Andrew. "And I'll help you finish your paper when we return." She adds to Jean. "Can we go now?"

Andrew shrugs before discarding his half-smoked cigarette. Dan feels immediate relief. She won't go alone. Her roommates will be there, and if everything goes to awful hell, she can always count on Allison and Renee to cry all night.

"How do I look?" Dan asks the men. She still has a few minutes to make last-minute changes.

Andrew swipes her from top to bottom and Jean from her shoes to her hair.

"Could be worse."

"Halloween is coming."

Dan feels her belly churning with dread. It must be the boots, or the sweater, or the hair. Or perhaps she overdid her makeup? What if-

"Wilds, no." Andrew breaks the silence. Dan turns to look at him. If she has to give the tiny man credit for something, is that he knows how to dress when he means it. She should've asked for his help. Or Jean.

Oh, for fuck's sake. She's so stupid! She also lives with a French, and she couldn't ask for advice. This Matt guy is turning her into a puddle of uselessness.

"I said no. Let's go." Andrew cuts in again and storms out of the door.

Dan sighs and goes out, ready to fail.

The way goes silent. Andrew and Jean occasionally type something on their phones. They are closer to each other than they are to Dan. Like real bodyguards. At least that gives Dan a bit of security.

She breathes in the chilly morning autumn air and pushes the door of the Fox Coffee Shop, already scanning the tables. There's no sign of her big man yet. She might have a few minutes to steel herself for the stunning view and relax before he-

"What are you doing? Don't leave me with her!" Jean scowls behind her. She turns on her heels to see Andrew leaving the coffee shop.

"Andrew! What are you doing? Andrew!"

Dan is finally thankful for choosing shoes she can run with. She is so worried about being left alone with the cute man that she doesn't pay attention to the sound of windows smashing at her back and hurries more to step in front of Andrew.

"We got a deal! What's wrong with you?"

Andrew only lifts a brow. It would've been enough to make Dan step aside if she didn't know him so well already, and she hadn't noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.

"Can we go back? I got a date."

"Go ahead. I don't." There's the faintest of inflections in the last part. Dan would've asked if she only had time. Right now, she wants her date to be perfect, and it's coming pretty bad from before the start.

"I'll also get you fancy ice cream when I'm done. Andrew, come on, I need you."

The man looks from Dan's face to the coffee shop at the back. His cheeks blush again.

"Is he worth it?"

"I'll never know if we don't meet."

"Chocolate fudge, rocky road, brownie, and cookie chips. Plus the cakes, and I reserve the right to stab him if he isn't worth it."

"Awesome. You're the best. Come on; he must be there."

Dan makes her way back to the coffee shop, feeling pounds lighter with Andrew going willingly behind her. However, the relief doesn't last long.

There's a crowd of people at the entrance of the place. Dan makes way for her and Andrew to see what's the source of the commotion. A million scenes cross her mind. All of them, except the one with Jean on the floor, cursing in angry French at a blond man who's pressing gauze to his forehead.

"I can't take care of that cut if you keep moving, you know?" The blond says.

"Leave my head alone and get rid of that stupid rug!" Jean protests.

Dan looks at the spot pointed by Jean. There's a crumpled autumn-colored crocheted nana-rug on the floor.

"As if it was the rug's fault that you can't see where you put your feet. Or your whole body, for that matter." Interjects a small man from aside. He gives a few steps to get close to the window that apparently, met Jean's head. "At least you hit with the wall and didn't break the window."

"Neil, can you go back to attending orders?" The blond man asks, still busy attending Jean.

At her back, Dan hears Andrew muttering "Neil" to himself.

"I'm not cleaning his blood." The man -Neil-, says as he goes back to the counter.

Dan doesn't pay any more attention to him and crouches beside Jean. "What happened?"

"I wanted to catch Andrew before he ran away and slipped with their stupid rug. Who puts a rug in the middle of a coffee shop?"

"I did; any problems?" Neil replies from the back of the counter.

"You are a problem!" Jean shouts at the same time that Andrew says it, already in front of Neil. The blush has extended from his cheeks to his ears.

"It's just an attitude problem," Neil says, quieter, only for Andrew to hear, but the whole shop is still silent with the commotion.

"I'll still solve you," Andrew says with a casual shrug that can fool anyone but Dan or Jean.

"At least buy something before."

The blond man. Jeremy reads his tag, just puts his head inside his hands. "This job is going to kill me."

At that moment, Dan can see the instant shuffle in Jean. When he sees the exhaustion in Jeremy, he also goes slack against the wall, all tension between him, the rug, and Neil instantly gone. "I'm sorry for causing you trouble, love. It's just- Andrew's impossible, and our girl Dan here is having her first date with a guy from the gym."

Dan can't think anymore. She doesn't even know what's going on. Jean and Jeremy are holding hands on the floor, and Andrew is having a heavy staring contest with Neil at the counter.

"Love?" Is all she can mutter.

"We've been dating for weeks. We didn't want to tell you because I thought you liked him." Jean says.

"I- What?"

"You come here so often that I thought you might come for me? It wouldn't be the first time. And I know it wouldn't be because of Neil; he doesn't seem your type." Jeremy explains.

Dan feels dumbfounded. Her knees are about to give up below here. This can't be happening.

"I come here because of the morning views, the warm lattes, the pecan pie, and the free Wi-Fi! And I have a fucking date with a super hot guy who's like seven feet of glorious muscle crowned with a perfect smile and the most hilarious sense of humor. Why would I even look at you? No offense, Jean, I can see the appeal."

"Do you think all that of me?" Asks a deep voice behind Dan.

"Fuck me now," Dan mutters to Jean's and Jeremy's entertainment.

"Uh... Thought we could have coffee first? But I can do that too if that's what you want. I mean, who wouldn't? You're like a goddess."

"I- Wh- So- Do you really think I'm a goddess?"

"Hell yeah, I've been wanting to ask you out since spring but thought like your friend's boyfriend that you were into him and I-"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Dan doesn't think as she talks and pulls Matt in for a kiss.

All her nerves melt as soon as their mouths meet. It's so much better than anything she had imagined. Not that she'd put too many thoughts into picturing herself with Matt, but it's everything she ever dreamt of and then some.

"You could do the same someday." Dan listens to Andrew deadpan to Neil. She bursts into laughter at the same time as Matt.

The kiss breaks, but their hands remain holding as they go to get their drinks and officially start their date.

It looks like this date won't be a total failure after all.

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simonsrosebud · 4 years ago

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the one where someone doesn’t know who kevin day is, pt. 4

part one two three five

extra content linked at the bottom!!

the cousins are all on the bus. they’re the first ones there, but kevin hangs behind to wait for dalton. apparently it’s obvious.

nicky hangs out the open bus door. “he meet wymack yet?” and goes bug eyed when kevin shakes his head. “you haven’t introduced your boyfriend to your dad yet?! this is the first time they’re meeting?!”

and jesus, he didn’t think it was a big deal. it’s just the banquet. but he also knows he’s never had a father before. or a boyfriend, really.

“is... should i have done that before? why- it’s not some big deal.”

nicky shrugs. “first impressions are important.” and goes in the bus.

and now kevin’s trying not to get overwhelmed.

abby’s in charge of the headcount, but wymack still climbs out of the bus when the dates get there. dalton is the first one.

he goes right to kevin- still waiting outside the bus, and gives him a quick kiss before grabbing his hand and continuing on his way to wymack.

he sticks his hand right out. “i’m dalton. it’s nice to meet you, mr. wymack.”

wymack nods. “you as well. heard good things.” kevin hasn’t really said things about dalton, but he lets it go. probably just being polite.

“hell, hope i can live up to them.” he laughs. “i would’ve made it a point to introduce myself before, i apologize. i feel like i’ve been grading finals for weeks, now.”

wymack gets talking, and kevin honestly feels like a third wheel. dalton was doing a better job at talking with his father than he did sometimes.

kevin sends dalton onto the bus eventually, and wymack holds him back. “you told him shit?”

“yes. not the yakuza.”

“but he knows you’re kinda fucked in the head?” kevin almost frowns. he’s not wrong. wymack adds as a second thought, “not to say the rest of those idiots aren’t.”

“he knows.” he normally wouldn’t care to mention it, but he really wants wymack to like dalton. “he helped me with a panic attack a little bit ago.”

“riko?” he nods. every time it happens it makes wymack look beaten down. kevin almost regrets telling him, but wymack purses his lips and after a moment shoves his shoulder towards the bus. “he’s a good kid. stop your worrying and get your ass on the bus.”

it’s as good as a compliment as he’d hoped for, honestly.

this years banquet is in virginia. it’s a six hour drive, and kevin had already explained why they don’t fly if they don’t have to, so dalton’s kind of made it his mission to get along with some of the foxes.

kevin would rather he not. it’s not like the last time dalton spent time with the foxes they spilled his life faults in front of his new boyfriend.

that would be insane.

matt, dan, and dalton talk the most on the ride. renee joins the conversation at some point and matt and dan butt out.

kevin’s busy talking to wymack about exy, and horror sets in his eyes when he sees neil talking to his boyfriend. “we’re three hours in, kevin, he’s made it this far.” as in, neil won’t break him. but kevin’s nervous anyway.

until he hears what they’re talking about.

math.

“that’s disgusting.” kevin leans back in his seat and watches them talk.

renee smiles. “you’re dating him.”

the foxes are sat on the opposite side of the court of the ravens, as has become routine ever since neil and riko’s encounter. instead they’re sat with the trojans and jeremy, jean, and alvarez sit across from them. kevin smiles when jeremy comes around to say hi, but he smiles just a bit wider when introducing dalton.

jean and kevin have this thing. they don’t talk often, but when they do it’s more of a check up. so when jean asks him in french how he is, dalton grins. “do all exy players just speak french?” it’s more of a remark to jeremy, who laughs and tells him jean said he taught kevin french when they both lived at edgar allen together, which makes dalton feel a little bad. kevin had told him how he knew jean, and about living at edgar allen with riko’s abuse.

later, dalton grabs his hand under the table. “is french triggering for you?” and, what? “jeremy said jean taught you french, and you’ve told me about your time with jean.” oh.

dalton was a graduate student, sure, but he was more intuitive than kevin thought. “french was an escape because no one but us understood it. i like speaking french to you, because you like it. it helps to take away the meaning behind why i learned it in the first place, i think.”

“okay... can i kiss you? would you be okay with that?”

kevin raises a brow. “i mean, jesus, i came out for a reason.” he starts to turn away with fake annoyance, but dalton snorts and turns his chin back before he gets away. it’s just a small peck, but it’s enough to make dalton smile so kevin doesn’t care.

jeremy circles back. “volleyball, guys?”

dalton snaps his head back to kevin. “oh, i’m going to dominate you.” and takes off.

“be on my team!”

“nope!”

normally they’d drive back that night. the first banquet after the disastrous one last year was the fall one (which kevin went to with renee because he was still scared to introduce dalton), and they’d gone back that night since it was only a two hour drive.

wymack wasn’t sold on it at first, but after getting multiple confirmations from everyone that it’d be okay, he booked rooms so they could drive back sunday morning instead.

the foxes are all drunk- save for renee, andrew, neil, kevin and dalton.

they gather in matt and dan’s room for hours. at one point, kevin’s so out of it and tired that he doesn’t notice dalton leave for a moment.

it’s because of andrew.

but all must go well because dalton makes it back alive and unfazed. he settles behind kevin and kisses his cheek. “wanna head back?” he drops his head into the crook of his neck. “you look really good, baby.”

that’s a new nickname. he thinks he likes it.

ahaha. aha. you know what happens.

dalton asks kevin if he would want to come to maryland, his home, for a few days during winter break. kevin says sure before he realizes that it probably includes him meeting dalton’s family.

kevin does a google search once he’s settled back in his bed at palmetto.

when do people normally say i love you in a relationship?

he deletes it almost as soon as he searches it. it’s a stupid thing to search.

dalton sends him a text. a funny twitter post, and a message under it.

the banquet was so much fun, i’m so glad you asked me to go w you❤️❤️

kevin sends a heart back.

ALL EXTRA CONTENT ALL HERE BABEY (aka a dalton/kevin directory so i don’t have to keep updating on this post hehe)

there’s so much extra content and it just keeps coming so keep an eye out for updates on that link^^

dalton finds out how famous kevin really is

dalton/kevin at pride

what does dalton look like?

first fight aha

what did andrew say to dalton?

dalton & wymack’s perspective of meeting each other

AMAZING DALTON X KEVIN ART!!!

kevin meeting dalton’s friends

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codename-adler · 4 years ago

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foxes + onesies (9/9)

based off of that one post i saw and don’t remember, where people once caught Allison wandering around Fox Tower in a giraffe onesie, and i absolutely melted for her. here is the Foxes’ journey to getting a onesie each!

Kevin

every Fox has bad days

some bad days begin with a specific feeling

when Andrew feels ghost hands as he wakes up, when he feels his body too tight for his bones, or hid bones too big for his body

when Neil feels every sound like a knife to his skin, when the scars on his face feel like phantom pains, when he feels a grown man moves too fast, too close to him

when Allison feels jeans cling too much to her thighs, when her shirt brushes too much on her abdomen, when she feels the food she ate resting in her stomach

some bad days begin with a specific date

when it’s the anniversary of Tilda’s death, and Aaron cannot be in the same room as Andrew, no matter how far they’ve come

when it’s the anniversary the Boyds’ divorce, and Matt can’t leave Dan’s side for one second, no matter how strong their relationship is

when it’s the anniversary of Mary’s death, of Evermore, of Nathaniel’s last birthday, of Baltimore, and Neil can’t take a single look at himself in the mirror, no matter how many times Andrew worships his face with his mouth and his fingers

or, when it’s the anniversary of Kayleigh Day’s death, and nobody remembers, not even Wymack, and Kevin is all alone with this grief that is other, unlike any other he carries everyday, unlike anything he can compare to, and he doesn’t know how to feel anymore

Kevin vividly remembers that day, and he sees it luring around the corner as August approaches

but this time, there is no more Riko to worry about, no more mafia to be scared of, no more Ravens to antagonize him, no more Master to punish him for even attempting to grieve every year

and no more alcohol to make him forget

Kevin quit drinking the day they won championship, they day Riko was killed died

it’s been a year and a half, now, and Kevin still wants to drink the minute things get hard mentally

(it’s also been a year and a half since the Foxes started getting onesies, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, and only Allison remembers that summer where it all started)

so when Kevin enters his bad days, his bad weeks, the Foxes are used to his mood swinging back and forth between Queen of Assholery and Feral Fox

but Kevin isn’t

he isn’t used to feeling all of this, to always think, and think, and think, until everything inside his head is as loud as the outside, until it’s all too much

yet he’s still expected to go on

still supposed to function, to perform, to be a decent human being when he’s not even sure he even feels human anymore

and so when Kevin snaps, the Foxes are supposed to be used to it

they’re not

nobody is

it’s summer practice

the 9 Foxes came in early, before the two new recruits arrive

Kevin is in the middle of yelling at Neil, who is very much yelling back at him

there’s that moment very full of testosterone where each of them throw away their gloves and helmets and sticks

they’re an inch from each other’s face and then Kevin suddenly… stops

he completely stops

his face goes blank, his feet move him back, his arms go slack

he looks at Neil, and he looks, and looks, and looks…

as if he could find an answer to a question he doesn’t know he’s asking

Neil, who has never learned to watch his mouth after all the trouble it got him into, keeps tearing into Kevin

Kevin keeps backing up and Neil keeps pushing further

but apart from his backwards movement, Kevin doesn’t react

pure apathy doesn’t suit him nearly as well as it did Andrew

the other Foxes are so silent, that between two of Neil’s breaths, they can all hear him whisper

“Stop.”

but Neil doesn’t hear him, or doesn’t want to

it gets so out of control, even Wymack has to step in, on the court, when he sees Kevin so unresponsive

it gets so bad, eventually Neil, too, stops his yelling and just looks at Kevin

and he looks, and looks, and looks…

as if he could understand the question Kevin is asking an answer for with his pleading, green eyes

“Stop… Just- stop. I can’t- anymore… “

Kevin shakes his head and looks at the floor as hatred and hurt grip his guts

he takes another step back

suddenly he jerks his head back up and looks at Neil

“I hate you. God, I hate all of you.”

he looks at all his Foxes

then leaves

Kevin Day leaves the court

behind his back, he doesn’t see Matt holding back a furious yet teary-eyed Dan

he doesn’t see Renee leaving her goal to join Andrew’s side, her big racquet blocking his way

he doesn’t see Nicky putting his hand on Neil’s shoulder, squeezing in empathy

he doesn’t see Allison throwing away her racquet against the plexiglass wall with all that she’s got, fuming and hiding her tears

he doesn’t see Wymack matching over to Neil, a whole speech ready to give Neil his piece of mind

and he certainly doesn’t see Aaron collapsing to the ground, his hands holding his head and gripping his hair, his breaths shallow, his jaw clenched shut, his eyes dry yet red-rimmed

but from behind Kevin’s back, none of them see him either

they can’t see him losing his breath as he starts running away

they can’t see him clenching and unclenching his left hand

and they certainly can’t see him crying

the week that follows is undeniably tense between all the Foxes

that week also coincides with a lot of events

there’s the new Foxes’ arrival

there’s the start of classes

there’s the mandatory psych session with Betsy before Exy season starts

and there’s August 27th

Mom’s accident

Kevin remembers the day vividly, he truly does

he remembers because the week of the accident, he was supposed to start school for the first time, on September 1st

he had picked his outfit for the first day, he had new red Exy-themed shoes, he had even planned the lunch he wanted to have that day in his lunchbox (spaghetti squash casserole. yeah, weird kid.)

on August 27th, Mom didn’t come home

on August 27th, he went to the Moriyama property

on August 27th, he settled into a weirdly well-accommodated room that fit both him and Riko

on September 1st, he woke up with Riko and they prepared for their first day

on September 1st, Kevin wore his planned outfit, put on his red shoes

on September 1st, Kevin did not have spaghetti squash casserole

she left him nothing but an aversion for squash, red shoes, and Exy

which brings us as to why, on August 27th, as all the team is mandated to talk an hour with Betsy Dobson, Kevin Day volunteers to go first (with Aaron volunteering to go second and be the designated driver for the pair)

none of the Foxes have really talked to Kevin since the previous week’s outburst

Kevin has no other outlet for this painful day

it’s either talk to Betsy, or ruin 496 days of sobriety with one vodka bottle

the only words exchanged between Kevin and Aaron, on the drive to Reddin Medical Center, are, surprisingly, from Kevin

“Somebody should get you a new goddamn car.”

he doesn’t elaborate further than that, but Aaron looks at him strangely

his car really is garbage, though

once arrived at their destination, Kevin doesn’t wait for Aaron and bursts in Betsy’s office without warning

it takes at least half an hour of Betsy talking before Kevin gives up his silence

everything was already there, he just had to open his mouth and let his words fall

Kevin: I’ve been sober for 496 days. I’ve been thinking about my Mom’s anniversary for the past few weeks. That’s today, now. And last Friday, I told Neil, then the whole team, that I hated them. Care to unpack that for me?

Betsy: I can help you sort some things out, of course, Kevin. But this is your baggage. I’m afraid I can’t do this without your help. Why don’t you tell me more about this hatred you feel towards your teammates?

Kevin: I dont. Hate them. I don’t… I hate what they do to me. How they treat me. Their double standards. How they forget, how they dismiss. Mind you, I’m well aware of my asshole status. I know I am. But them… they’re… they’re mean. Vicious. They cut and stab and don’t care about what’s underneath. They don’t care that I helped them get the title of Champions. They don’t care that I was there every step of the way, that I was right there beside them when we played the Ravens, when we won. They don’t care that Riko died, that he once broke my hand, that I was legally kidnapped, that I went through hell and still lived to walk on my own two feet. They don’t care that I, too, once had a mom. They don’t care that my Mom died. They don’t care. To them, I’m still just a cunt. It’s unbearable. They don’t give a shit and I’m so, so tired, Betsy. I’m not asking for much. I just want… I want- I want them to let me breathe. I want them to realize that, I’m just like them. I’m a Fox. I’m a Fox as much as they are. I wake up everyday, and feel all this weight on my shoulders, in my stomach, on my heart, but I carry on anyways, and I don’t know why, but I do, just like them. Is that so hard to grasp? Is that so hard to accept? What am I doing wrong, Betsy?

Betsy: Oh, Kevin…

the rest of the session passes in a blur

Kevin talks about how every time he takes a photograph, he thinks of Kayleigh, of how brightly she smiles in all the photos Wymack has of her, of how he wishes he could take pictures of her with his own camera

Kevin talks about how every strong woman in the Irish folklore he reads about wears Kayleigh’s face

Kevin talks about how he thought Thea had been a bit like her, and how, in the end, she hadn’t been at all, she was her own woman, a woman he didn’t know and didn’t love, and how he thought he had lost a bit of Kayleigh again when they separated

Kevin talks

he talks

and Betsy listens

when his time is up, Kevin’s voice is hoarse with exhaustion and sadness

he lets Aaron in as he decides to take a run back to Fox Tower

his mind tries to guilt him into going back to the court, but between facing the Foxes after that and isolating himself in his dorm, Kevin knows what’s best for him

he is only disturbed in the late evening, when Wymack enters the dorm

even Neil, Andrew and Nicky hadn’t come back yet

Kevin knows something is wrong

Wymack isn’t supposed to be here

Wymack: Day… Listen, son.

Kevin sits up on his bed

Wymack: Argh, I’ll cut the bullshit. It’s Abby. There’s been an accident. Her car’s fucking scrap metal now. She was brought to the hospital 45 minutes ago, I just got the call. She’s going into surgery. We’ll all visit her in the morning.

Not again

Not Abby

What the fuck is this life?

Wymack: Number Seven wants to see you now. Don’t ask me why, I don’t wanna know. I’ll let her in, don’t make me regret this. Sleep good, son. I’ll see you tomorrow.

he opens the door, takes one last look at Kevin’s tense form, and leaves as Allison comes in

she’s wearing her giraffe onesie tied at the waist, with an oversized WALKER 09 t-shirt

she stands in front of Kevin until he looks up at her

Allison: Scoot over. We’re watching The Crown.

and Kevin, dumbfounded, lets her and moves

he finds himself quite intrigued by the storyline, enough to only worry about Abby with his fingers, fiddling with one of the giraffe’s horns

after the third or fourth episode, Allison starts to talk, eyeing Kevin’s fingers playing with her onesie

Allison: Wanna know the latest gossip? Even Andrew has a onesie, now. God, I can’t believe this is a sentence that exists. Andrew Minyard owns a fucking onesie. Do you know what that makes you?

Kevin stays silent, eyes fixed somewhere not quite on Ally’s laptop screen

Allison: That makes you the only Fox without one.

Kevin: Oh, so now I’m a Fox? Didn’t seem that way earlier. Or, like, ever.

the dealer chooses her next words very carefully

Allison: Just because we hadn’t seen it yet, just because we were too busy stuffing our heads up our asses, doesn’t mean you weren’t a Fox… I know, I know. Hard to feel like one when the others give you shit non-stop. Been there, done that. And now I’ve done it to you, too, and I’m… Sorry. We’re dysfunctional, there’s no changing that. But- We can do better. We’ll try, promise. I think you’ve made quite an impression on Betsy today, ‘cause we all received a good talk from her during our sessions. I mean, don’t expect Andrew running in to apologize, but, you know… Something about Betsy turning severe makes you re-evaluate your life choices. We’ll do better, Day.

Kevin looks at her, then

really looks at her

and nods

yet just as he turns his attention back to the screen, Allison leaves the Netflix page and googles “onesie adult”

Kevin: Oh, no. Absolutely not. Nope.

Allison: Oh, yes, yes, yessss!

but then, of course, there’s a knock at the door, and Allison gets up, opens the door, lets the person in, whispers something, and leaves

just like that

and oh

It’s Aaron

Aaron: So… Allison tells me you’re finally getting yourself one of those stupid pajamas too?

Kevin: I am not. What are you doing here anyway? The others will be back soon, I assume.

Aaron: Well, it’s my shift…

Kevin: Your what now?

Aaron: No, it’s not like that! We just… We thought you’d want some space because of… today… But then Abby… We didn’t want you to be alone.

Kevin: Really. Who’s “we”?

Aaron: The proud Palmetto State Foxes’ Exy team. All of them. You know, Dan, Matt, Renee, Allison, Andrew and Neil, Nicky… Me.

once again, Kevin can’t help but stare, deeply surprised

Aaron: Andrew and the others will be back for the whole night, but for now, it’s my turn. I wanted to take the first “watch”, but Allison said she had business to do with you. And I’m not getting in the way of that woman.

Kevin honest-to-God snorts

Kevin: If by “business” she meant bullying me into buying this onesie shit, then you should have gotten in her way. I’m not doing that. It’s fucking dumb.

Aaron: Hey!

Kevin: Aaron Minyard, don’t tell me you’ve participated in this madness…

Aaron: So what if I have? It wasn’t exactly on purpose, but I got one. And you don’t. So really, who’s dumb here?

Kevin: What is it??

Aaron: Not telling you.

Kevin: C’mon…

Aaron: Nope. You can’t bribe me. I’m not telling you shit. However, what I can telling you, is that it feels kinda wrong that we all have a pajama and you don’t…

Kevin: Oh my God, fine! What did the others get?

Aaron: Well, besides Ally’s giraffe, we got a tiger, a dinosaur, a teddy bear, you’ve seen Nicky’s unicorn nonsense, and I’m not quite sure about Andrew’s… Oh, and Neil’s is a fox, obviously. That predictable dumbass.

Kevin: Okay, well, I want a fox too.

Aaron: No, Kevin, you can’t.

Kevin: What? Why not!?

Aaron: Because. Neil’s already got a fox. Do you want to be a copycat AND a predictable dumbass?

and so until 1 AM, Kevin and Aaron bicker about each of Kevin’s suggestions (a Palmetto Foxes onesie, a USC Trojans onesie, an Irish-themed onesie, a white fox onesie, a gray fox onesie, and so on…)

when Andrew, Neil and Nicky come back into the dorm, Kevin’s almost laid all the way down on his bed, his head resting on Aaron’s elbow, as Aaron is sitting right next to him, laptop propped on a pillow and his fingers scrolling away

Aaron looks at Andrew, sighs, and looks at Kevin

they nod to each other, before Aaron gets up to go back to his dorm

Kevin sits up correctly when Aaaron is gone and Andrew approaches

Kevin pretends not to notice and googles one more idea, “brown fox onesie”

as he scrolls down and down and down, Andrew looks over his shoulder

and points at one picture

Andrew: That one. Now go to bed. We’re getting up at ass-o’clock tomorrow.

for the third time this evening, Kevin is shocked

he does look at Andrew’s pick attentively, though, and decides to go with it

that night, even if images of Abby covered in blood plague him for at least an hour, Kevin falls asleep to the memory of Aaron’s skin against his cheek, which somehow translates into dreams of Kayleigh resting both her hands on his cheeks as they sit in a field of wildflowers

a couple of weeks later, Kevin doesn’t tell the team his onesie has arrived

but he is forced to admit it when, for Halloween, they organize a huge party for themselves only, where they decided to wear their pajamas as costumes for the night

Kevin feels so stupid in his outfit

he even had to buy a LARGE because he’s so fucking tall

but it still feels… comfy… warm… not so bad…

maybe this can work for him…

it’s only when he steps into the girls’ living room that a problem arises

Aaron: What the fuck is this.

Kevin: Hum… A brown fox? Technically, Neil’s is orange, so you can’t shit on me!

Aaron: That- That’s not a fox, Kevin! What the fuck.

Kevin: Okay, well what are you then?? A mutant mouse?

Aaron: What are you- Oh my God, you don’t know what Pokemons are.

with that, Aaron turns around and yells for his twin

Aaron: ANDREW JOSEPH FUCKING MINYARD. YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE, DIDN’T YOU? YOU BASTARD.

he storms off yelling

Kevin only reunites with Aaron at the end of the night, on the girls’ balcony, both sober

Kevin: You know, for someone who pushed me so much to do this stupid thing, you’re not being very nice about it. I know you wanted me to be “original” or whatever, but it’s not like I look like Neil! Why are you so upset?

Aaron: Kevin. It’s not a fox.

Kevin: Oh for God sake’s Aaron, you-

Aaron: It’s a Pokemon, Kevin. They’re like little monsters, kind of, and it’s a videogame, but there’s anime, manga, and collectible cards and… I used to- I used to collect those. Before. I lost them, now, but see this? This is one of them. It’s the main Pokemon, actually. His name’s Pikachu.

Kevin: Okay… Who am I, then?

Aaron: You… You’re Eevee.

Kevin: And what’s “Eevee”…?

Aaron: Pikachu’s girlfriend.

and oh.

Oh.

Kevin: Andrew didn’t tell me… The little fucker. I thought- Sorry. I didn’t mean to be another pawn in one of Andrew’s little games. Why did he do that to you?

Aaron: I think you know why.

Kevin looked at Aaron

Aaron looked at Kevin

Kevin: Fuck.

Aaron: Yeah, that.

Kevin: What?

Aaron: Nothing!

Kevin: Aaron.

Aaron: Kevin.

Kevin slowly invaded Aaron’s space until his back touched the railing, and placed one hand on each side of the backliner

Aaron looked up at Kevin

Kevin looked down at Aaron

Kevin: Okay?

Aaron: Okay.

and Kevin grabbed Aaaron by the hoodie of his pajama, and pulled him close, closer, closer, closer, until their lips met, at last

it was a long-awaited kiss, a careful kiss, a kiss of home and yes and oh and warmth and safe

Kevin reluctantly pulled away and rested his forehead on top of Aaron’s, knowing they have very little time before the other Foxes found them snogging on the balcony like a goddamn cliché

Kevin: Aaron.

Aaron: Kevin.

Kevin: I’m gonna ask you something stupid, and you can’t punch me for it, okay?

Aaron: Fine, okay.

Kevin: Do you want to be the Pikachu… to my Eevee?

Aaron: YOU FUCKING MORON!

and with that, Kevin burst out laughing, as if the Foxes’ attention wasn’t already on them the second Aaron started yelling

Allison and Matt knowingly started whooping with their beers raised for a toast

Dan was facepalming hard, shaking her head, but smiling nonetheless

Renee smiled her genuine, angelic smile while clapping Nicky on the back as he choked on his drink

Neil, arms crossed, watched the scene unfold with contentment

and Andrew. Andrew had no reaction at all. at all.

he was looking at his nails, no knife in sight, no fucks given

which, in Andrew’s language, meant everything

and so that October 31st was one for the books, the books about the good days, the good feelings, the good memories

because the Foxes had those, too

Kevin Day had good days

Aaron Minyard had good days

Allison Reynolds and Renee Walker had good days

Dan Wilds and Matt Boyd had good days

Nicky Hemmick had good days

Neil Josten had good days

even Andrew Minyard had good days

God knows they deserve them

these onesies, as silly, as stupid, as corny, as childish as they may be, were a proof of that

a proof that the Palmetto State Foxes could be better, could do better, and could get better

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charming-charlie · 5 years ago

Text

The Worst Goodbye

Title // The Worst Goodbye

Pairing // Anthony Ramos x Reader

Warnings // Mentions of drinking, cute little fluffs

Summary // Anthony is leaving the Hamilton show and you aren’t coping well with saying goodbye.

Word Count // 2k

Prompt // Hey there! Can I request something fluffy with Anthony from Hamilton? Maybe something where the reader really likes his long hair, aka Philip hair, so when he cuts it she’s a little discouraged? // I found a cute writing prompt for Anthony Ramos. “Person A and Person B having deep conversations together on the patio / balcony at 3 a.m.”

It seemed to be a long, winded night. You were tired, not fully exhausted yet, but there wasn’t much energy in you left. It was yet another end-of-run party, this time for Chris Jackson, for Hamilton. The year was full of losses. Lin, Philippa, Leslie, Daveed, and Ariana left earlier during the summer. Anthony, one of your closest friends, was scheduled to leave next.

The next party would be in celebration of him.

You were okay with that. He wanted to further his acting and music career. Working eight shows a week sort of hindered that and often left him too tired to pursue his other interests.

But it went with the territory, especially in your line of work. You worked at the Richard Rodgers theater as a backstage hand. You made sure people got to their places on time, handled wardrobe malfunctions, and helped devise a schedule if someone was going t be out. It was truly a fun job for you because you were able to see the ins and outs of the show, and you became close with the cast members, both past and present.

The hardest part were the goodbyes, like tonight. Chris was leaving, wrapping up his final curtain call in 2 days, which meant 2 more performances from the man who played a stellar George Washington. While these parties were meant to be a celebration, they were sadder for you. You said goodbye to so many people over the past few months.

The party took place on a rooftop bar. There was the bar itself, which had high glass walls and then there was the balcony area that fenced off the roof. Due to the chilly weather, it being November and all, no one even so much as attempted to go outside on the balcony. At least, not yet. Surely after they had more drinks in them and got warmed up from the alcohol, it’ll be full of party people.

For now, you were the only occupant on the empty balcony. The sun had set, and the moon was out. You were able to see very few stars due to the heavy lights of New York City, but it was still a very nice, relaxing sight. You knew you could never give up the city. There was just something about it that you found comforting, and peaceful nights like this were part of the reason why.

You had a drink in hand, barely touched. You were more focused on the sights before you. It was almost like a scene from a movie. Your hair whipped lightly in the cold wind, but you didn’t feel the frigid breeze.

In fact, you were so lost in your little world, you didn’t hear the bar door open, the one that led to the balcony. It was only when you felt someone brush against your shoulder, you were lulled out of your trance. You turned and you saw Anthony. He was wearing a hoodie with the hood up, his hands in his pockets, and some casual jeans. “Well,” you managed to say with a smile, “you certainly dressed for the occasion.”

He turned to look at you, smiling in return. One of his arms rested on the barrier of the roof. “Yo, I came straight from rehearsal. I didn’t have time to change. Besides, you really think Chris is going to care?” Anthony responded simply. It was almost like he knew you were going to say something about his look, and he had a rebuttal prepared. You wouldn’t put it past him.

That’s right, when he wasn’t working on Hamilton, he had rehearsals for the new show he was scheduled to be on. You said nothing, turning back to the city, not wanting to think about saying goodbye to yet another friend. The theater was starting to be kind of bleak with your favorite people leaving.

“No, Chris won’t mind. I mind though. What is this?” you asked. With your empty hand, you reached out to grab his hood, but he pulled back with a laugh, ducking your grip. He looked so casual and yet it looked like he was almost wearing a disguise. Like, he wanted to blend in. It didn’t work for you though. He had a personality and a smile that could be seen and heard from across a room. He was just that type of person, one of the best people you ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“This is fashion,” Anthony said much to your surprise. You couldn’t help but laugh, truly laugh, at his dumb choice of words.

“Your fashion sense is awful. What time is it?” you grabbed his arm and pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie, looking at his watch. It was going on three in the morning. You had no idea it was so late. The party inside the bar was still in full swing. You don’t think anybody even left it yet. The notion of the time emitted a yawn from you, and you tried to swat it away out of annoyance.

“Whoa, my fashion sense is amazing,” Anthony counted back as he lightly bumped into you, nudging you gently.

You took a sip of your drink, which had long since been watered down, and waved a hand in his direction. “There’s your catwalk, go model it for me and try to change my mind.”

You were absolutely kidding, and you thought your voice was dripping with sarcasm and jokes but Anthony actually took you up on that. He nodded, walked to the end of the balcony and turned to face you. You stood there in surprise, watching as the young man strutted toward you, one foot in front of another, giving off ridiculous poses. He unzipped the front of his hoodie dramatically, giving off such ridiculous model vibes. You were not drunk enough for this.

He got closer to you and he flailed his head, pushing the hood down. Your stared at him. Both of your hands flew to your barely drunken glass, fearing you would drop it from the sudden look. Anthony had cut his hair. His beautiful, long hair that he often wore pulled back, was now short and styled, and it caught you off guard to the point where you couldn’t look away.

You definitely were not drunk enough for this.

“Oh no babe, what is that?” you pointed to his head. Anthony was taking it in stride as he ran his fingers through his shorter hair with a sheepish smile. You had a feeling you were the first person he showed his new style to, but your reaction wasn’t exactly encouraging him.

“I had to cut it for the role. Does it look that bad?” Anthony asked. His smile was slowly fading, and he turned to the glass walls of the bar, trying to catch his reflection.

It didn’t look bad. It just looked different. It was yet another reminder that he was going to be leaving the show soon. It was a reminder that things were changing, and you were not liking it. Finding a cold bench, you sat down, your breath shaky. Your put your drink down somewhere on the ground, not wanting to touch it.

Anthony’s smile had turned into a complete frown by this point and he slowly sat next to you. “I’m gonna wear a wig for the rest of my Hamilton appearances, don’t worry.” His voice sounded a bit defeated. He looked out over the scenery, watching the still buildings, trying to avoid looking at you.

You hated how you were reacting, but you sincerely could not help it. To much was changing too fast.

“It was Renee’s old wig. I’m getting it fixed and cut before tomorrow’s show,” Anthony kept rambling on, as if it would make you feel better.

You sighed. Of course, you were overreacting. You knew that. You were being dramatic. Deep down, you had to expect that this was going to happen, and it has. It wasn’t just the hair. You loved Anthony’s longer hair and you thought he could pull a ponytail off better than most girls out there. This was different. This just proved things were not going to be the same in a very short amount of time.

“It’s not the hair,” you mumbled to yourself, but Anthony heard you. Slowly his head turned to look at you, but you could not bring yourself to face his warm, comforting eyes. “It’s what the hair represents.”

That astonished him and he let out a breath, sort of scoffing your words away like he didn’t quite understand. “What does that mean?”

Sighing deeply, you turned to look at him and you grabbed his hand. Maybe it was time for you to say what you were feeling. When were you going to get another chance? Plus, Anthony seemed a bit down in spirit right now from your reaction. He deserved an explanation.

“You cutting your hair means this is really happening,” you began. You were speaking slowly, trying to choose your words carefully. You didn’t want to end up saying the wrong thing and make the evening (morning?) even worse. “I mean… it’s another reminder that you are leaving the show and leaving me. I’m just not… I don’t know, I’m just not handling it well. That’s all. Your hair looks good. I like the new cut.”

There was silence after that. You wished he would say something. Tension was growing between the two of you with each passing second and you were not sure how long you could sit there in overwhelming silence. You couldn’t take it. You exhaled and stood up, only to feel Anthony reach out and grab your hand. He tugged you back and you instantly sat down next to him.

He leaned in, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder. “Don’t leave,” you heard him whisper. His fingers inched themselves slowly and wrapped around your hand in a tight hold. You rested your head against the top of his and closed your eyes. For a moment, everything seemed to be okay. But it was only for a moment.

“We knew this was coming,” you said slowly. Now you wanted to avoid the conversation. Anthony shushed you as he squeezed your hand. You felt his head rise from your shoulder. He let go of your hand, hooked his index finger and thumb under your chin, and turned your head to look at him. His eyes were unreadable, and he had a sad smile. That did nothing to help your dejected feelings.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you said but Anthony cut you off.

“Stop talking.”

He didn’t move, forcing you to keep looking at him. His hand shifted from under your chin to the side of your face. He was making it worse. He was stirring up things inside you that were going to be squashed like a bug on the night of his final curtain call.

“I may be leaving Hamilton but I’m not leaving your life. Don’t even think about that. You think I can just walk away and leave you behind? I can’t. I don’t want to. Shut up about saying goodbye. You aren’t saying goodbye. You may be working with a new John Laurens and Philip Schuyler, but you aren’t getting rid of me completely.” His voice took on a bit of sharpness. You could tell he did not prepare a speech for something like that, which further proved he was serious.

He leaned in, kissing your forehead softly. A cold wind zipped by, and you felt it that time. Or maybe that was just the chill that ran up your spine at his sudden, simple touch.

“Please promise me that,” you said, needing it for your own clarification.

“I promise,” he said while looking at you dead in the eyes. He held onto your gaze for a few moments. The lights of New York City were behind him and he looked like such a vision, like a painting come to life. He looked happy, his smile returned, and there was a sort of lightness behind his eyes.

Your worst fear turned out be over-exaggerated and you were thankful he was there. It’ll be hard, getting through these next few weeks knowing he was going to be gone soon, but you had faith that there was more to your friendship with Anthony than meets the eye. You knew he saw it too.

#anthony ramos #anthony ramos x reader #hamilton #writing request

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91percentpynch · 4 years ago

Text

Jean‘s first Winter Barquet without the Ravens

look i have this in my head for a while now, so i thought i might as well share it with you guys!! i have absolutely no idea where this is going, guess will find out:) jerejan isn‘t a thing yet in this headcanon, but please keep in mind that they ARE in love,,, we will see where they‘re going,,, also please keep in mind that i never took french so if the french terms are wrong i‘m sorry <33

jean only owns the suits he was forced to wear with the ravens. obviously he had no time to take it with him and no one would bother to give him the few things he actually owned back, so he has nothing to wear

as he has a mental breakdown because the thought of meeting his ex-teammates alone gives him anxiety jeremy walks in, smiling softly as he asks „so i guess we should get you a nice suit for tonight. are you bringing someone by the way?“

the moment he sees jean on the floor he goes over to him and sits down next to him on the floor

„is there something that would make you feel better?“ jeremy asks quietly. „need a hug? or something else?“

jean just holds out his hand, a silent question jer quickly answers by taking his hand and softly squeezing it

„we got this dude, don‘t worry i‘ll keep you safe“ jeremy whispers as jean is trying to stop his sobs

„how exactly do you plan to stop them?“ jean asks, with a thick french accent he gets when his panic attacks are especially bad

„oh, a man never tells his secrets. you will see when we need to find out“, jeremy laughs.

they stay in that position for a while before slowly getting up to go to the mall to get jean a suit

when they sit in the car and jeremy‘s about to start his car he asks jean if it‘s okay to listen to music, or if he‘d rather have it quiet

„music, because quiet reminds me of them“, jean whispers, ashamed that he would allow to show weakness to his captain

„music it is my dude“, jeremy says and puts on his french playlist. „thought you might like that“, he looks flashing a grin at jean

jer obviously knew jean liked it, jean told jer about his love to music/ french music when they started talking, he told him it calms him down

jean just puts his head against the window, looking at nothing in peticular

at the mall they go into the first store who sells suits (because they‘re slightly stressed to make it back in time, they‘re both masters in procastination)

„okay so i thought of something, cause shopping for clothes is always super boring. so we both choose something for the other person and try it on together. you don‘t have to take my choice but you have to at least try it on“

„but you have terrible taste, jeremy. terrible“

„well than you can only improve the way i look, can‘t you?“, jer replies with a wink, „and my taste is perfectly fine“

jean doesn‘t reply to that, as the only thought in his head „everything is perfect about you, everything but the way you dress“, but he will not say such things to his captain

jeremy takes his lack of an answer as a yes and disappears to look for suits

sharing a dom for a few months and the fact that jer leaves his stuff lying around jean knows jer‘s size

not that he would be interested in jeremy, not that he would spend hours on end thinking about his captain

jean picks out a navy blue suit and a light grey bow tie which happens to have the exact same color as his eyes

slowly he goes looking for jeremy, who waits for him in front of the dressing rooms with his characteristic toothy grin

„okay show me what you got“, jer says when jean is within earshot

jean hands his finding over without a word - blushing a bit

jer takes it, hands jean a suit and diappears in the changinng room

jean slowly goes in the one next to jer and changes in the suit jer gave him

once he‘s done he looks at himself in the mirror

jeremy chose a light grey suit with a navy blue suit

they unintentionally match

when jean leaves the changin room, jer is already waiting, happily chatting with an employee about the exy season

he stands there awkwardly looking at jeremy, not saying a thing, until jeremey turns around and notices him

jeremy gives him a once over and nods satisfied with himself

„we‘re matching, i like that“, he says softly, blushing

„i have to admit, this is not as terrible as i thought it would end up to be. you look faboulous, no wonder when i pick out your outfit“

„well, you look rad as fuck my dude. you‘re definetly buying that, well not you but coach. coach told me to get us some nice suits, apparently the one i own is - i quote - ‚a unnecessary threat to society‘“

„he isn‘t wrong though“, jean says, a small smile on his lips.

„holy shit you‘re smiling, i either said something unbelieveable stupid or funny. i thought i had to talk french again to make you feel better“

jeremy took french as soon as he knew jean would come to the trojans so he could talk to jean in private, if needed to

„please don‘t. your french is terrible“, jean replies, his smile only getting bigger at the thought of jer‘s terrible pronounciation

„hey“, jer says jokingly offended

they change back in their regular clothes, pay the suits and head back to their dorm

„you wanna listen to that french music while we pack for tonight?“, jeremy asks quitely when they close their dorm door behind them

jean can only nod, his panic slowly growing

on the way to palmetto state - where the winter barquet will take place this year - jeremy sits next to jean

when jer notices jean getting nervouse/ anxiouse he offers him his hand

„my mom used to hold my hand when i was anxious, said she‘d keep me safe. thought it might help you as well“, jer is blushing again, avoiding jean‘s eyes

jean takes jer‘s hand without comment, thinking how soft they are over and over and over again

„why didn‘t you bring a date? i bet the ladies would kill someone to go on an event like that with a guy like you?“, jean asks jeremy in a sorry try to distract himself from the ever rising anxiety

„i‘m not into girls, first of all. and secondly i might like someone who would not be ready to with me there and i will not force them to do anything when they are clearly not ready“

jean pretty much stopped paying attention when jeremey said he was into guys

„what do you mean by ‚a guy like me‘?“, jer asks winking

„oh you know, unbelieveably annoying, decent looking, kind. isn‘t that what girls are into these days? i wouldn‘t know, all we got to be interested in was exy, exy, exy“, jean whispered, blushing

„annoying, huh?“, jer laughed.

jean didn‘t know what to reply so he decieded to stare out the window - definetly NOT thinking about how beautiful jeremy‘s eyes look in the stupid light of the bus

„hey wanna listen to the french music again? someone told me lately that my pronunciation is shit, so i need to listen to it anyways as this french guy won‘t help me out. we can share my headphones if you want?“

jean had never seen jeremy so shy, and he had to admit jer is even more adorable and attractive that way

not that jean would pay that much attention to jeremy knox

jean just nods unable to form a word, yet a sentence

when he put the headphone in his ear, he leans his head against the window and shortly after that falls asleep

when they arrived at palmetto state, jer wakes jean up softly

jean didn‘t let go of jer‘s hand - his grip only tightening- until they reached the home locker room where they would put their stuff and get changed for the barquet

„don‘t worry, i will keep you safe. i will punch anyone who looks at you funny“, jeremy whispers to jean when jean struggled to close the buttons of his shirt

jean‘s hand wouldn‘t stop shaking so jeremy closed the buttons of jean‘s shirt for him

jean suddenly gets very inappropriate thoughts while silently watching jer buttoning his shirt

„ready.“ jean answers, taking jer‘s hand

„ready?“ jer asks, holding out his hand, when they are changed

as soon as they entered the court jean looks for renee, in order to Not Look at the raven‘s table

obviously renee would spot him immediatly and drag her girlfriend alison with her to greet him

renee hugs him tightly completly ignoring jeremy

„i missed you, skyping just isn‘t enough j. you gotta visit me sometime. anyways i asked wymack to sit the foxes and the trojans together, so you can sit with me and tell me everything“, she said softly against his chest with a grin on her face.

jean isn‘t used to people being happy to see him so he is lowkey overwhelemed

„o- okay, but you gotta let me go first“

renee lets go almost immediatly, taking his other hand

it‘s only then that she notices jeremy

„oh god you two are matching, alison look they are matching“, she says excitedly

but alison only has eyes for her gorgeous girlfriend

jeremy laughs quietly while renee drags them to their seats

jean takes the place next to renee, jeremey sits next him, across from jean sits matt boyd, to matt‘s left kevin day and to matt‘s righ is dan

jean only focuses on renee though

they talk about school, their free time activities, the exy season, renee‘s plans for when she‘s done with college

jean does not let go of jeremy‘s hand until dinner arrives

they eat in silence, everyone‘s too busy with the delicous food

after everyone‘s done with dinner the tables are getting moved to the sides of the court, christmas music starts to play, someone brings the punch in and everyone starts to socialise

people are bringing their dates on the dance floor to slow dance under the mistletoes

„do you, uhm, do you maybe wanna dance with me?“, jer asks aggressivly blushing

„you wanna dance with me? what would the person you talked about on the bus would say to that?“, jean answers, having had a punch or two too much to calm his nerves

„that‘s what i‘m trying to find out right now actually“, jeremy replies shyly

„wait i‘m the mysterious guy you like? why?“, jean is suddenly not so drunk at all, rather confused than anything else

„dude have you looked in a mirror lately? i‘ve had a crush on you since i first saw you on court. started out as a stupid little crush, but then you started to live with me, play exy with me and i got to know you. you are so strong, so funny if you let yourself be, you are talented and so much more. i would add ‚good dancer‘ to that list, but you‘d have to dance with me for that“, jer says still blushing, avoiding his eyes

„okay, then let‘s show these losers how to dance“, jean replies, a small smile on his lips

jeremy knox liked him the way he liked him jeremy knox liked him the way he liked him jeremy knox liked him the way he liked him

so they ended up slow dancing at the edge of the dance floor

laila and renee saw them and took a quick picture of them before leaving them be

eventually it was only jean and jeremy, no ravens, no teams, no exy court

„i wanna see the stars“, jean says, suddenly having the urge to see the bright spots against the dark sky. needing to show jeremy, to make him understand

„i think it‘s okay when we disappear for a second“, jeremy says against his chest, as he still leans against jean from the slow dancing

so jean leads them out and as soon as they are outside he searches the night sky for the stars

when he found them jean points at them and says „look at the stars. you are the stars. you are bright and people look for you, people love you, people want to be with you. me? i‘m the night sky. i‘m dark, people are afraid of me. i am nothing worth looking at“

„jean, you are none of the things you said right now. if no one else i would always come looking at you. you are not dark. you surrived darkness and you came out of it. you surrived. you made it. and i am so unbelieveably proud of you. you are so strong and beautiful and if no one else, i want to be with you“

jean never cried, not when his parents sold him and homesickness almost killed him, not when riko tortured him, not when kevin left him alone in that hellhole, but this? silent tears are running down his cheeks

jer‘s hand is reaching up to his face to put them away, but he stops a few inches away, asking „may i?“

jean only asks

jeremy softly puts jean‘s tears away with his thumb

„i really wanna kiss you, can i kiss you?“, jeremy asks softly.

jean is unable to say a single word so he just nods and leans in to jer

and that‘s the story of their first ever kiss

it‘s also the story why jean calls jer „mon étoile“

#all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king’s men #jeremy knox #jean moreau #jerejean #headcanon #jeremy knox x jean moreau

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years ago

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 5: I’ve Lived The Life And Paid For Every Crime]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Some Kind Of Disaster by All Time Low.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to drugs and violence.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @writerxinthedark @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @loveandbeloved29

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

Easy Questions, Evasive Answers

“So it was nothing,” Archer said, glancing up from where he was tinkering around beneath the hood of my 1999 Honda Accord, checking hoses and belts and dipsticks. “This is pathetic, by the way. That you can’t change your own windshield wiper fluid. Dishonor on you. Dishonor on your cow.”

“I never had my own car in Phoenix!” I objected around a mouthful of a Starbucks pumpkin muffin, my first of the season. And that was true: Renee and I couldn’t afford one. “I didn’t have to learn about car things!”

“No, it’s great, I love it, I have a customer for life.”

“It was totally nothing,” I told him. Meaning the photograph in the newspaper article from 1979. Meaning my paranoia surrounding beautiful, brooding, certifiably lethal Benjamin Lee.

Not Lee, I reminded myself. Benjamin August Hardy, born November 3rd 1893.

“Was it really?” Archer asked, skeptical.

“Uhhh, you were the one who was making fun of me for thinking he might be a time traveler. Or a bigfoot.” Or a vampire.

“Yeah, okay, true...” He let the hood of the Honda fall shut with a bang, then wiped the muddy streaks of motor oil from his hands with a stained rag. “But you were freaked out. Like super freaked out.”

“I was, yeah. But it wasn’t him in the photo. I took another look, there were freckles and, uh, like, uh, some other things that didn’t match up.”

“Huh.” Archer watched me with an expression I couldn’t read. “I didn’t notice that.”

“Ben laughed about it. Probably thinks I’m an idiot. A stalker and an idiot.”

Archer smirked slyly. “He must not have held it against you too much. I’ve never seen that guy laugh in my life.”

I took a moody bite of my muffin, rolled my eyes, feigned shallow schoolgirl angst. “Trust me, he’s not my biggest fan.”

“Ohhhh, and this bothers you?” Archer sauntered over and stole a crumbling hunk out of the pumpkin muffin. “Does someone have a little crush on the gorgeous, grouchiest Lee?”

“Definitely not.” I sipped my chai latte, contemplative, debating telling him more.

“Uh oh. There’s something else, I can see it. Spill the tea, you walking college-chick-who’s-obsessed-with-fall stereotype.”

“I’m so excited! I’m going to get to see changing leaves this year!” Cacti are majestic, ancient, intrepid, and they remind me of home; but they never change. They’re like desert earth that way, like the ocean. Like vampires, actually.

“We’ll have to do all the Instagram-worthy stuff. Pumpkin patches. Hay mazes. Apple picking...you can even bring that Ben guy if you want to. If he promises not to murder me with his mysterious time-travelling demon powers.”

Oh, kid, you have no idea. “So...I am kind of into a Lee guy. But it’s not Ben.”

Archer gasped, inhaled pumpkin muffin morsels, bent over as he hacked them out of his lungs. “Who?!” he rasped, scandalized, and then coughed again.

I couldn’t help but smile as his name spilled out: “Joe.”

“Which one is that? The Middle Eastern Men’s Vogue model one?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, not Rami. He has a girlfriend, by the way.” And has for the past half a century.

Archer wiggled his eyebrows. “Just because there’s a goalie doesn’t mean you can’t score.”

“Oh my god, please never say that phrase again.”

“Joe is the...” He closed his eyes as he drummed his fingers against the metal workbench, trying to remember.

“The Italian one,” I finished for him.

“Ahhh. The annoying one.”

“He is not annoying! Why do people keep saying he’s annoying?! He’s hilarious, and sweet, and lowkey wicked smart, and, and, and...”

Archer whistled, grinning, his dark eyes sparkling. “Damn, girl. You do like him. You really like him.”

I sighed in defeat. “Okay. I really, really like him.”

“Like him as in would swipe right on Tinder, or like him as in you want to get married and honeymoon in Hawaii and have twelve pasty, angular babies?”

“Oh wow.” And for the first time, I was confronted with the singular enigma that was a future with Joe. Vampires had relationships with other vampires, obviously, even marriages; but that didn’t mean the same rules applied to humans. Did he like me? Could he like me? What would that even look like? How would it end? And it would have to end, of course, eventually. Unless somehow I stopped aging too. “More than just a right swipe. We’ll see about the twelve kids.”

“Just make sure he wraps it before he taps it. I’m too young to be an uncle.”

“Stop,” I pleaded, gulping down my latte, averting my gaze across Archer’s small garage filled with customers’ vehicles, pretending not to be intrigued and yearning and petrified. I couldn’t imagine hooking up with someone as faultless and—presumably—experienced as Joe and being anything but a disappointment. I’ve never hooked up with anyone. At all. Ever.

“What?” he asked, concerned, thieving another piece of my pumpkin muffin. Powdered sugar dusted his fingers like the snow I’ve only seen two or three times in my life.

“Nothing. I just really wish you went to Calawah too.”

“And give up all this easy money from clueless suburbs people like you?” Archer beamed, wily and proud and affectionate. “Not a fucking chance.”

No More Sad Spaghetti

Joe gawked in horror, chomping noisily on his Big League Chew bubblegum, as I unwrapped the peanut butter sandwich I’d packed for lunch. It was mostly cloudy in the early September sky overhead, but he was still wearing sunglasses. He had traded in his ubiquitous U Chicago apparel for a Cubs t-shirt. Squirrels scurried through the bigleaf maple trees that dotted the campus, snatching up acorns with tiny clawed paws, wriggling whiskered noses in our direction.

“What’s your problem?” I asked, taking a bite. “It’s not sad spaghetti.”

He blew a small pink bubble, then popped it with his teeth. “Yeah, but it’s...like...mangled.”

“It got trapped between my textbooks!” I protested. Admittedly, the accordion-shaped peanut butter sandwich—my vegetarian alternative to fishstick Thursday—kind of sucked.

“You can’t eat that. Oh my god. It’s making me so sad. Give it to the squirrels.” Joe pulled out his iPhone. “What’s your preferred pizza topping?”

“I can’t tell you,” I replied, tossing my sandwich towards the nearest tree. A hoard of squirrels immediately descended upon it and proceeded to battle for dominance, emitting shrill, peanut-butter-crazed shrieks.

His brow furrowed. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because you might not like me anymore.”

“Why would I not like you because of pizza...?” And then he knew. “Oh no, oh god, please don’t say pineapple.”

“I’m a pineapple pizza person.”

“Baby Swan,” Joe said, deadly serious, pressing his palms together. “That is straight up sacrilegious. You can’t put tropical fruit on a pizza. You realize I’m Italian, like an actual Italian. I’m so Italian I’ve killed other Italians for being the wrong kind of Italian. That’s how Italian I am.”

“I feel like maybe I shouldn’t socialize with literal mobsters. It’s unsavory.”

“Settle down, I’m ordering the half-pineapple pizza, you freaking barbarian.”

I watched Joe as he tapped his thumbs against the screen, humming to himself, amused, perpetually buoyant. And I couldn’t picture him as a monster, as a killer: pulling triggers, slitting throats, digging blades into soft vulnerable love handles, feeling for the mortal puncture of a lung or kidney. I asked him, my voice quiet, hesitant, almost lost in the autumn wind: “Did you actually hurt people?”

“Nah. I didn’t have the stomach for it, even back then. I was on the deal-making side of things. The business side. I was a people person, a smooth talker, astronomically charming.”

I smiled, mischievous. “That’s difficult to imagine.”

“Okay, so no cheesy breadsticks for you.”

“I’m sorry, mob guy. Please order the breadsticks. You’re so charming I can’t stand it. My jeans are unzipping all by themselves.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “So you’ll sacrifice your dignity for breadsticks. Good to know.” He finished typing and laid his iPhone on the grass. “Alright, next question.”

“Does your hair grow?” Joe’s hair—I couldn’t help but notice—seemed longer than it was the day I met him a week and a half ago, disorderly and auburn-tinted, ruffling in the breeze.

“It does, yeah. Hair and nails still grow. So you have to shave, but you can’t get razor burn. And any nicks close right up.”

“Very cool. How often do you need to eat? You know...actually eat.”

“It varies, but generally twice a week.”

“And what kind of animal has the tastiest blood? Besides...well...” I gestured towards myself. “The upright two-legged kind with opposable thumbs and a partiality for pineapple pizza.”

He blew another bubble, then leaned in towards me. And I realized, for the first time, that he had his own inherent, exclusive, totally Bath-And-Body-Works-worthy scent as well; Dr. Gwilym Lee was sandalwood and campfires and log cabins, Mercy was roses and vanilla...and Joe was pine trees, peppermint, cold night air, like all of that eternally youthful magic of Christmas Eve sieved into a bottle. I popped the sheer pink bubble with the cap of my blue pen. Joe asked: “Do humans like chocolate or vanilla ice cream? Coffee or tea? Baseball or something hella lame?”

“Depends on the human.”

“Exactly. Same deal for vampires. I prefer bears, especially grizzlies. Lucy and Mercy like deer, elk, moose, animals like that. Ones with hooves. Weirdly, Rami’s favorite is crocodile, I think because it was the first thing he ever tried in Egypt. He doesn’t get it very often, but has been known to buy them on the black market on occasion. Scarlett likes mountain lions. Also domestic cats, but you didn’t hear that from me. Gwil is a wolf guy, but he won’t kill the endangered kinds. Such a gentleman.”

“How about Ben?”

“Ben’s still coming around to the whole eating animals thing. I don’t think he has a favorite yet.”

Joe isn’t a killer, and he never was; I could believe that. But Ben... “Why is he so different than the rest of you?”

“That’s...kind of a long story,” Joe replied carefully.

“It wouldn’t be such a long story if people stopped talking about how it’s a long story and actually told it to me.”

He flashed a grin, revealing white canine teeth filed into points; they were subtle, yes, but they were there. Fangs. I envisioned pressing a fingerprint against them and feeling the flesh split in two, the blood dripping down onto his tongue like Washington rain. And unlike Joe’s skin, mine wouldn’t knit back together on its own. “But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of tormenting you with the prospect of incredibly juicy yet confidential information!”

I rolled my eyes, sipped my can of Diet Coke, returned my attention to our lunch plans. “So garlic doesn’t repel you. That part of the lore is completely made up.”

“Yup. Thank god. Eternal life would be worthless without pizza.”

“Can you do drugs? Get drunk?”

“We can’t overdose, but we can get the effects of anything we consume. It’s not a good habit to get into though. If you’re nodding on heroin for like four days at a time, it’s pretty easy for some other vampire to find and murder you.”

“So a vampire can be killed by another vampire.”

“Absolutely. Next question.”

I consulted my mental list. “Do you sleep?”

“Yeah. Well, kind of. We nap for a few hours a day.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“We get bitchy. Really bitchy. We essentially turn into Ben.”

I laughed, chewing absentmindedly on the end of my pen. “So that’s his problem. He hasn’t napped in a century. Now it all makes sense.”

“Something like that,” Joe said. “You gonna come over tonight?”

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to present The Walruses And Me tomorrow and I still haven’t started the book.”

“What do you know, I can tell you all about The Walruses And Me!”

“Seriously? You’ve read it?”

“No, but I can enthusiastically narrate the Wikipedia article to you while you pet Mercy’s alpacas.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Terrible for your grade in Marine Mammals. Good for your development as an interesting and happy human.”

“Nice try, but I’m already both of those things.”

Joe reached out suddenly, jarringly, and ran the back of his hand across my cheek. My favorite Lee, I thought, thoroughly transfixed but trying to hide it. Oh no. “Interesting, definitely. But I have this gnawing, distressing suspicion that you’re still working on the happy part.”

“I miss the desert,” I confessed. That wasn’t quite all of the problem, but it was accurate: I missed the heat, the sun, the parched prehistoric air I had always called home. Although I was beginning to find reasons to like Forks, Charlie and Archer and the promise of a Pacific Northwestern autumn; and then one big reason in particular. A very old, pale, chatty, Italian reason.

“A bit of a quandary for a future marine biologist,” he replied gently, perhaps apprehensively.

“I always figured I’d live somewhere like San Diego or Los Angeles or Galveston. Someplace on the ocean, but also sunny and hot and with palm trees. The best of both worlds. But you couldn’t go there with me, could you?”

Oh no.

Oh NO.

Oh fuck, this is definitely a crushing-on-Lee-boys zone.

Joe stared at me through his sunglasses, chomping on his Big League Chew, the corners of his mouth turned up and etching lines like parentheses into his face, pleased and nodding slowly and triumphant somehow. Then he struck out his hand again, this time with his pinky raised like a flagpole. “No more pathetic depressing lunches.”

“You got it. No more sad spaghetti. No more sad peanut butter sandwiches. You have my solemn, human vow.”

He smiled as his pinky entwined with mine. “No more sad anything.”

“So this vampire thing sounds like a pretty sweet gig. No dying, no consequences for a hellacious diet or wild condomless orgies, literal superpowers, perfect hair...why doesn’t everyone get to live that way?”

He shrugged; and there was an unfamiliar, meditative tension in his face. Almost sorrow. “It’s not all pizza and orgies and heroin. We have weaknesses too.”

“Like what?”

“Hey, look!” Joe piped cheerfully, twisting around towards the parking lot. “I think our GrubHub guy is here.”

Bad Blood

I was definitely regretting that fourth slice of pineapple pizza as I waddled into Chemistry, navigating sluggishly around the hulking frat boys and giggling sorority girls and mousy bookish types who lugged around colossal backpacks that were always threatening to knock an unsuspecting passerby off their feet at each unthinking turn. But while I was arriving in the classroom—physically, anyway; emotionally I was standing in an empty field somewhere screaming I cannot be falling in love with a hundred-year-old mobster vampire!! into the void—Ben was a countercurrent darting through the crowds and towards the hallway door.

“Where are you rushing off to, old guy?” I asked him. “Bingo? To renew your AARP membership? To walk vigorously around the inside of a mall?”

Ben responded in that deep, low, humorless voice. “They’re doing some kind of blood typing experiment today. I probably shouldn’t be around for that.”

“Oh.” I glanced over at Professor Belvin, who was indeed hunched over the table at the front of the classroom and laying out rows of Q-tips and rectangular paper cards and alcohol swabs and bottles of clear liquid, whistling what sounded like Time Of The Season.

Ben sighed irritably, rubbing his crinkled forehead. “I already used up all my absences. I’m gonna have to make up a compelling last-minute tragedy. Tell Professor Belvin my grandma died or something.”

“I mean, technically, she did at some point.”

“Ugh,” Ben replied, not consoled at all.

“Wait, I got this.”

I gripped my belly, sank into the nearest chair, and groaned dramatically. It really didn’t require all that much acting. Ben watched with huge green eyes, confounded.

“Miss Swan!” Professor Belvin cried, rushing over. He was wearing khaki pants, a white shirt, and suspenders and a matching bowtie patterned with bubbling multicolored test tubes. Belvin had been Charlie’s classmate from kindergarten through high school, and still palled around with him over Bud Lights and low-quality nachos on bowling league nights. Bowling was, evidently, the sport of choice for middle-aged Forks dads. Also for Welsh vampire pseudo-dads born in the 1400s.

I whimpered in reply.

“Are you alright, Miss Swan?” Professor Belvin asked worriedly. A few students had begun to congregate around the scene. I felt a pang of genuine nausea as perspiration beaded at my temples. You better appreciate this, Mr. Hardy.

“I’m okay,” I said, in my most pained and martyrish voice. “I don’t want to miss...today’s lesson...it looks so fascinating...but I didn’t wash my kale thoroughly last night and then I had a salad for dinner and now I might have food poisoning.”

“You poor thing!” Belvin exclaimed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about class. You can just answer some textbook questions or something, no problem. Please go get checked out to make sure you’re alright.”

“Could someone...maybe...help me get to the campus clinic...?” My eyes listed towards Ben. “Maybe...my lab partner?”

“That’s a good idea.” Professor Belvin turned to Ben. “Mr. Lee, would you be willing to escort Miss Swan to the clinic? You can do an alternative assignment as well. If you don’t mind missing the blood typing lab.”

“I’d be delighted to help,” Ben responded, still puzzled. I offered him my hand, and Ben took it, grimacing as he led me out into the hallway. As soon as we were alone, he dropped my hand and opened up several feet of space between us.

“Thanks so much, Miss Swan, you are a lifesaver,” I said, imitating his morose, rumbling British accent. “Oh, you’re very welcome, Ben. You can repay me in basic courteous conversation and Starbucks gift cards and by maybe not killing me.”

“So you’re totally fine?” Ben asked flatly.

“Of course. Nobody with taste eats raw kale.”

Frowning, frustrated, he started puffing on his vape pen. “You need to stop doing nice things for me. It’s extremely disorienting.”

“This may be difficult for you to come to terms with, but you, Ben Hardy, are worth being the recipient of nice things.”

“No, you still don’t get it,” he snapped, grabbing my wrist, spinning me around to face him in the empty hallway. “That’s all I’ve ever done. Kill people like you.”

The Fire

“Who is the cutest little alpaca I’ve ever seen?!” I cooed in a squeaky falsetto, scratching her wooly brown chin. “Who’s going to come home and live with me and Charlie forever?!”

“That’s illegal, ma’am.” Joe was watching me, arms crossed over his Chicago Cubs t-shirt, smiling wistfully.

“It is not!”

“It actually is,” Rami added. He was lying on the grass and gazing up into the roiling, grey, late-afternoon clouds with his fingers laced behind his black hair. None of the Lees were wearing sunglasses now. “A house has to be zoned as farmland to have alpacas, which ours is. Yours, tragically, is not.”

“What are you, a lawyer?” I shot back.

Rami grinned. “I was once. And I will be again, in approximately...let me count...five years.”

“That’s what you want to do with your boundless time and energy? Be a corporate shill?”

Joe cackled. “He tried that already. It lasted about five minutes.”

“Manhattan in the 1980s,” Rami reminisced dreamily. “Hundred-hour workweeks. Cocaine everywhere. What a time to be alive. And I hardly ever left the office, so the sunlight thing wasn’t a problem.”

“Okay, so you’re not in it for the Maseratis or the drugs...”

“I’m going to be an immigration attorney,” Rami told me. “Help refugees apply for asylum to come to the United States. Arabic-speaking refugees, in particular.”

“Wow. I stand corrected. That’s wonderful, Rami. I now feel like a total tool for only aspiring to save sea turtles.” But it made sense, of course. What would any good person spend eternity doing? Making the world just a tiny bit better. I glanced at Joe, teasing him. “And you just study how to get rich, huh?”

“I’m a venture capitalist,” he said brightly. “I invest in small businesses, counsel them, encourage them, connect them with other people in the industry, help them grow. And I don’t need the money, so I take a practically microscopic equity stake. I’m basically a professional charitable donor.”

“And you get to put all of those charming mob-guy skills to use.”

Joe winked. “Exactly.”

“Doesn’t it get old?” I asked both of them. “Being college students?”

Rami shrugged. “No really. The world changes, schools of thought evolve, our own interests fluctuate. Every few decades we circle back and go for another round, fresh degrees, maybe new professions entirely. You learn something new every time.”

“And I’ve been waiting for all my old professors to die so I could go back to U Chicago for fifty years!” Joe shouted. “I’m fucking pumped!”

“But...don’t you already know everything...?”

Joe chuckled. “We’re vampires, Baby Swan, we’re not prodigies. We’re sharper than the average person, sure. But it still takes effort to learn. And we all have things we suck at.”

“Like not being obnoxious,” Rami said, nodding to Joe.

“Like not minding our own fucking business,” Joe hurled back.

“I cannot control the fact that I’m a literal mind reader—”

“You boys behave yourselves,” Mercy called in her relaxed, drawling Southern accent, swinging a basket of carrots and zucchinis and cabbages that she’d dug out of her garden, wearing a long flowing yellow dress and her hair tied up in a scarf. She plodded over in her bare feet, handed me a few carrots, then pointed to the chocolate-colored alpaca I was petting. “That lady there is Athens. And the black and white one by Joe is Augusta. Then there’s Norcross, and Alpharetta, and Savannah...and that real chubby grey one heading into the barn is Marietta.”

“I adore them,” I replied, beaming. Mercy had sheep and pigs and a couple of cows too, all ambling contently around the emerald green field as the first threads of fiery, rust-hued sunset were lighting up the horizon.

“We used to have ducks, too,” Mercy mused. “But they disappeared recently...”

Rami passed Joe a knowing smirk. Joe mouthed back menacingly: Do not.

“Hey mom,” Rami piped.

Joe jabbed an index finger at him. “No, don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare—”

“Joe ate the ducks.”

“You bitch!” Joe cried.

“Oh, Joseph,” Mercy sighed mournfully, lifting a brush out of her basket and dragging it down Athens’ fuzzy back.

“I’m sorry! It was one time! I was weak!”

“I’m not angry, sweetheart,” Mercy said. “I’m just disappointed.”

“Mom, that’s worse!”

Rami climbed to his feet and swatted grass and leaves off his cardigan sweater. “Alright folks. My work here is done. Peace out.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to do a hit and run like that, hey, Rami, hey, hey, come back here!”

Joe trotted after him, shouting a litany of insults, as Rami laughed hysterically and careened into the house. Lucy and Gwil were in the kitchen baking chocolate chip cookies; Scarlett was in the garage changing the brakes on Ben’s Vantage; Ben was noticeably absent from the Lee household and presumably out hunting. It was remarkably easy to picture his fingers closing around bloodied flesh, a wolf’s or a bear’s or an elk’s, lowering his fangs to a pulsing jugular.

“So you’re really into this whole farming thing,” I said to Mercy, looking out over the field rimmed by towering western hemlock trees. I didn’t know exactly how many acres of land the Lees owned, but it was a lot. Mercy adopted rescue animals, donated vegetables from the garden to local food pantries, and occasionally rented out the barn as a wedding venue.

“I’ve always loved it. I had a farm, you know. Before I met Gwil.”

Before she died.

“I didn’t know that,” I murmured, wanting to learn more, afraid to ask, never meaning to pry or offend. “I remember you mentioned the Civil War, and a barn...being...well...being trapped in it. When it burned down.”

Mercy nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s the polite version of the story, isn’t it?” She set down her basket in the tall grass, tugged distractedly at a dark strand of hair that had escaped her scarf, stared glassily out into the sunset muted with cloud cover as Athens moseyed away. “Do you want to know what happened? I’ll tell you if you do. But I don’t want to upset you, dear.”

My voice was barely a whisper. “I’d like to know.”

“We had a little farm out in the middle of nowhere,” Mercy explained. “My husband Arthur and I.”

And it felt so outlandish to hear her say those words. Husband. She had a husband before Gwil. She had a whole life before this one.

“He had a bullet in one leg and a limp from a hunting accident when he was a boy, so he was never called up to enlist. It was a rich man’s war, but it was the poor men they sent to die in it. That’s how it always goes, I expect. And how it always will. We had two daughters, twelve and fifteen. I won’t tell you their names. Don’t take that personally, dear. I haven’t spoken their names in a hundred and fifty years.”

She turned her murky eyes—like homemade bread crust or coffee or the wood walls of a log cabin—to me.

“When the Union Army came through, they were beasts. Men like that...men who have been killing and looting and burning their way across hundreds of miles...all they want to do is get blood on their hands. That’s all they remember how to do. So that’s exactly what they did. They slaughtered our cattle for meat. They burned the house down. And then they took me and my girls, and they...they...well, you know what they did. What men do when they’re monsters. And when Arthur tried to stop them, they shot him in the chest and spit mouthfuls of chewing tobacco on him as he bled out in the dirt. Called him a coward and a deserter. Told him everything they were planning to do to me and my girls. And when they were done doing all of those things, they locked the three of us in the barn and set it ablaze. I was the only one still alive when Gwilym got there. And believe me, I didn’t want to be.”

“I’m so sorry,” I breathed, my throat burning for Mercy, for her family, for this divinely kind and benign and tender woman.

She patted my cheek fondly. “It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s not your fault. I got a second chance. Gwilym gave me a second chance. That’s what he does, you know. He finds broken people, fixes them, loves them fiercely. He gave me forever. Two more daughters. And three sons.”

Three sons, I thought. Rami and Joe and Ben. She counted Ben.

“Does someone have to be dying?” I asked her softly. “You know. To become like you.”

“No, honey. That’s just how Gwil does things.”

“But...why? What��s the possible downside? Why not change anyone who wants it?” Why not change someone like me?

And Mercy peered over at me, contemplative, curious, like tiptoeing gingerly over rotted floorboards, like weaving through a minefield. Like she was trying to figure out what I’d already been told.

“Hey Baby Swan,” Joe said, startling me. I whirled to see him waiting with a patient smile and his hands buried in his pockets. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

He led me upstairs to Gwil’s 1960s-style office, where Dr. Lee had cleaned and stitched the tiny gash in my forehead after my misadventure with Ben in the woods outside Calawah University, where the wall above the sturdy oak desk was adorned with a massive painting filled with gorgeous, unfamiliar, inhuman faces. Joe took a deep breath, and then he began.

“This,” he announced, introducing the painting, “is the vampire version of the mob. They can trace their existence back to before the Roman Empire. They find people who they think have potential, have talents. They turn them. And then they offer them a hundred-year contract. You sign it, or they murder you. When your term is up, you get to decide whether to renew or leave. But almost no one ever leaves. After a century of taking orders and guarding and killing, what else do you know how to do?” He pointed to the terrifying woman with long white hair and red eyes. “That’s Liesl. She’s literally Satan, only blonder. The chick with the tattoos is Akari. She can meet a human and tell what powers they’ll have once they’re changed. Very useful, obviously. The dude who looks like Idris Elba is Cato, and he’s actually an okay guy, he’s the one currently assigned to keep tabs on Gwil’s coven...”

I soaked the names in like rain into dark, lush Washington earth as Joe relayed them to me, strange and beautiful names: Aruna, Phelan, Morana, Adair, Zora, Araminta, Honora, Victorien, Rigel, Sahel.

“Who’s that?” I asked, gesturing to the young man standing at the center of the painting, the one with black hair and eyes so light and luminous a brown they were almost gold and a sinister, unmistakable magnetism.

“Very good question,” Joe complimented. “That’s their Al Capone. That’s Larkin.”

“And what’s his vampire superpower?” He has to have one. I know he does.

“How do I even put that into words? It’s more than charisma. It’s slightly less than mind reading. He can see through people, what they want most, what they fear. And he can make them do things.”

I gazed into those omniscient glowing eyes, feeling myself getting caught there, feeling some primal dread swelling in the capillary beds of my heart and lungs and bone marrow. “Joe, I’m thoroughly enjoying this captivating backstory, really, but...why are you telling me all of this now?”

“Because you asked why Ben is so different than the rest of us. This is why.” Joe waved broadly at the painting, at the closest thing his world had to a mafia, to unrepentant killers, to actual demons. “This is where he came from.”

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whatmack · 5 years ago

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are your fic/snippet requests open? if so, can i ask for something about kevin just... being nb? maybe like a dysphoric day or smth i really don't have a preference just.... i Need more enby kevin content oops

One would think, dating two people, that the time required to finagle everyone out the door for a date would be increased by only 50%. One would be wrong. Jeremy, California-bred, was much better about the fluid nature of temporal plans when considering three busy atheletes each with a tendency to hyperfocus. Jean had made as much of his peace with it as he could by mentally changing the expected timeframe to be two or more hours further along than the agreed-upon.

“Almost ready?” He called, loud enough for Kevin to hear through the door of the bedroom. It was forty minutes until departure could be expected, which meant Jean needed to check-in. He’d do another in ten minutes. The muffled response from Kevin was more about the routine than any real new information. Jean returned to his book. Renee had taken to gifting him Sudoku from around the world instead of sending a standard postcard. The little bump of pride Jean got from completing a puzzle helped make waiting in the endless lines of LA more bearable. Jeremy was sprawled across the couch, video game controller in hand, his blazer already off and his shirt already wrinkled. He looked good anyway, which was equal parts frustrating and enjoyable. The toe of his left shoe nudged Jean’s thigh every time he jolted forward to make his player character shoot, because Jeremy Knox never did anything but for with his whole body. Jean let himself smile, knowing Jeremy was too absorbed in his game to see it, and tapped his pen against the laces of Jeremy’s perpetually-scuffed oxford while he considered the placement of his most recent 6.

Nine minutes and thirty-three seconds later, Jeremy groaned and threw his hands up into the air, withdrawing his foot to stomp it on the carpet. In his peripheral vision Jean could see the flashing red from the tv screen that signified Jeremy’s character had died. Instead of restarting, Jeremy set the controller down and stood, lacing his fingers behind his back to stretch. “I gotta pee.” Jean raised his pen in absentminded acknowledgement. He tilted his cheek into the kiss Jeremy dropped there on his way to the bedroom door, the spot of warmth a familiar spark of comfort after three years of kisses chaste and not. Jeremy ambled through to the master bathroom, forgetting to close the bedroom door behind him as he always did; Kevin and Jean had shared many a meaningful glance about it. “No, just bathroom, I’ll be out in a sec,” Jean heard Jeremy say to Kevin. Jean scratched out a 9 and put a 2 in its place. That would mean the square underneath it had to be-- “Oh, nice earrings,” Jeremy’s voice said.

Jean looked up. He couldn’t see into the bathroom-- not from the couch-- but Jeremy’s tone had been the one he adopted when he was trying with all his might to be chill about something. Kevin’s answer was an inaudible murmur, and Jean found himself sitting up straight and craning his ear to listen. Kevin had gotten hir ears pierced a few months ago, and had been hiding the fact from most media outlets with a series of stickers, clear retainers, and careful haircuts. Jean hadn’t known why sie had bothered if sie didn’t seem to be ready to acknowledge it, but had known better than to poke too hard at the question. If Kevin was wearing earrings now, however, that meant sie was planning to wear them to the restaurant. That was, out. In public. With them. Jean’s foolish heart beat a little faster. Ten-oh-one minutes. “Kev, we have reservations,” Jean said, trying not to sound out of breath. “Hurry it up.” “Stop being an asshole,” Kevin called back. But Jean heard hir socked footsteps move inside the bedroom, coming towards the door. Jean forced himself to take a moment to settle his features into neutrality. “I’m not the one who held us up getting to the dog show last week,” Kevin said, striding out into the living room and crossing behind the couch to the kitchen. Sie was moving with hir usual purpose, but Jean saw the slight tremble in hir hands, the too-jerky way sie reached into the fridge for hir recyclable water bottle. Against the soft skin of hir jaw dangled two strings of pink gemstone, linked together in such a way that they followed the motion of hir head as sie moved. Jean stood up, tucking his Sudoku book under his arm, and went to collect his own water bottle. He intercepted Kevin’s chin and held it between his thumb and forefinger, examining the earrings. Kevin was blushing and trying to pretend sie wasn’t. “Those look beautiful,” Jean said quietly. He could feel the tension under his fingertips as Kevin tried not to pull away, to hide. “I just-- saw them. And. It was a charity thing, you know. Children’s cancer. I had to buy something.”

“Of course.” “Weren’t you saying we’re going to be late?” “We’ve got a little bit of time,” Jean said. He tilted Kevin’s face to the side and kissed gently under hir ear. The earring tickled the side of his nose. Kevin’s hands automatically went to Jean’s waist. Hir pulse was jittering. “He’s right,” Jeremy said. He had finished in the bathroom while Jean was admiring Kevin’s new shine and was shaking water droplets off his hands onto the kitchen floor. His grin was as bright as the jewelry was. “They’re really nice, Kev. You look good.” “Stop standing around,” Kevin said, snappish with embarrassment. Jean could taste the heat of hir blush, an answering flutter beating in his chest. Jeremy’s grin turned sly. He stepped closer. “Sure thing, hon,” Jeremy purred, and slid a still-wet hand into Kevin’s hair to pull hir mouth to his. They made the reservations. Jean was used to this sort of thing, after all. He’d alloted time for it.

#kerejean #kevin day #jean moreau #jeremy knox #GO GO GO KEVIN YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY #YOU'RE LOOKING FINE ON THIS BEAUTIFUL DAY #dykeacademias #my fics #'person wears thing that theyre nervous about and partners go buckwild for it' is my favorite thing #trans person: slowly starts to introduce elements into their wardrobe that make them feel gender validated #me: kardashian_photo_you're_doing_amazing_sweetie.meme

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