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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years ago

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Drunk Face (A Halstead brothers + Halstead sister! Imagine)

"Bye Y/N," Jay started as he grabbed his last duffle bag from beside the kitchen table. "Make good choices. Don't do anything stupid. Will's on shift tonight, but best believe I will find service if I get a call from him saying you got brought into Med or from a fellow cop saying that you got picked up."

"Jay, relax. I'll be fine. This isn't my first weekend staying home alone by myself," you said.

"Yes, but it's the first time you'll be home alone for the weekend when you're 21. That's what I worry about."

"Who says I didn't drink when I was home alone before I was 21?"

"Excuse me?" Jay asked, setting his duffle back down on the floor.

"I'm kidding. I wouldn't try that with you as my brother. If it was just Will, maybe."

"Nice to know I'm the stricter one."

"Jay, babe," Hailey asked as she walked back into the apartment, "you ready?"

"Yeah, just telling Y/N to make good choices," he replied as he picked up his bag once more.

"No, he just doesn't trust me, that's what this is, Hailey," you said.

"Jay, be nice to Y/N. She's a good kid. She'll be fine," Hailey said and brushed her arm up against Jay.

"She's 21."

"Pretty sure she only drinks seltzers. It's hard to get drunk super fast off of those unless you shotgun them."

"What's that?"

"Nothing!" they both exclaimed.

"Okay, okay. I'll just google it." Jay opened the door and let Hailey out first and then followed her out. "Have fun! Use protection!" you yelled before you closed the door.

"My God," Jay laughed. "You've been spending way too much time with Adam."

"Leave! Make smart choices!" Then, you closed the door behind them for a weekend by yourself.

A few hours later you got home from the liquor store with your premade mango Jose Cuervo margarita. First, you grabbed a lemon-y kind of beer from the mini-fridge where Jay kept all the alcohol. You drank that with your dinner. Then, you turned on your favorite tv show and poured yourself a glass of that mango margarita.

***

God, you didn't even feel that drunk. You had drank a can of that beer and two and a half glasses of that mango margarita...which was about 1/2-2/3 of the bottle...and it was a big bottle.

You walked upstairs to go to the bathroom. You were a little buzzed, but not as bad as one time when you drank a margarita and three white claws. And, you drank those fast and you just fell asleep with a dopey, drunk smile on your face. You were hungover the next day, but you were just tired; you'd never thrown up from drinking before. You just kept your buzz going for a bit.

But, when you sat on the toilet and started going to the bathroom, you felt sweat start to bead on your face. "Aw, shit," you muttered.

You took a deep breath and stood up to wash your hands. As you were standing up, you started to get hot and your stomach started to hurt. The world seemed to spin a bit, too. So, after you washed your hands, you just laid down on the fluffy, light blue rug of the bathroom, breathing in and out slowly and occasionally groaning in pain.

Eventually, you decided to stand up, grab some water, and made your way to your room. Since you were already in your pajamas, you just went right to bed, after all, it was after midnight.

You laid in bed and tried to get the pain in your stomach to stop by changing positions and jamming your knee into your stomach.

Bad plan.

You felt the familiar feeling of a lump rising in your throat. But, you were so tired and buzzed that you hoped this wouldn't happen.

But, then it did, all the alcohol came up and out of your mouth, leaving you with the stale taste of margarita in your mouth and vomit all over your shirt and bedsheets.

God, you thought of just falling asleep right there. But, that was disgusting.

So, you grabbed your phone and made your way to the bathroom. You were still sweating, practically panting at this point while you leaned over the toilet, just trying to keep it down.

This was hell.

This had never happened before...and you had drank the same amount before.

Something was wrong.

Maybe it was the fact you just started a new acne medication a week ago. Yeah, that was probably it. It had to be that, it just had to be.

You heaved and then puked again.

Once you were finished, you grabbed your phone from the bathroom counter. You couldn't call Will. He was on shift and if he had to come, he'd most definitely tell Jay and then he'd never let you stay home alone overnight again.

So, you chose a different number: Kim Burgess.

"C'mon...pick up..." you muttered.

"Hello?"

Shit, that wasn't Kim. It was Adam. Had you called the wrong number? Were they sleeping together? You knew they were basically together, but to find out in this kind of way was kind of weird. Were they--

"Y/N? Hello?" Adam asked again.

"Y/N's calling?" you heard Kim say in the background.

You felt the familiar lump in your throat and puked again.

"Y/N! Are you okay? Are you there?" Adam asked frantically.

"Put it on speaker," you heard Kim say.

"Y/N, you're on speaker. What's going on?"

You wiped your mouth. "I- I drank too much and I'm on a new acne medication and I'm throwing up and I can't call Will because he's working and I don't know what to do," you rushed out before you could puke again. "Can you come over?"

"We'll be right there. Hang tight, kid," Adam said. "Me and Kim are on our way."

"You need us to stay on the phone, Y/N?" Kim asked.

"No, I- I should be fine until you get here."

"Okay, we'll be there soon."

One of the two hung up the phone and you started to feel hot again, but your stomach didn't hurt. And, even though laying on the rug of your bathroom with alcohol-smelling vomit on your shirt wasn't the best idea, you did it anyway because you were so tired.

***

"He's gotta be the stupidest person alive to put his spare key above his door. That's where everyone puts it. Dumbass," Adam said to Kim as they stood outside your apartment door.

"Adam, just open the damn door," Kim told him.

Adam reached the key and unlocked the door. "Alexa, play Drunk Face by Machine Gun Kelly," Adam joked.

"Adam! Not the time!"

Kim started walking around the apartment, trying to find you. "Y/N, where are you? It's Kim and Adam, no one's broken in. It's just us. We're here to help."

"Kim," Adam whispered. He nodded his head towards the bathroom door.

Kim threw herself to the floor and looked through the tiny crack. "She's in there. She's laying down."

Adam immediately went to open the door.

"Shit," he said when he saw you lying there with your eyes closed, vomit all on your shirt.

"Mhm, don't tell Will and Jay," you groaned.

"Oh thank God, she's conscious," Adam said.

"Y/N, can you stand up so we can get you out of these clothes? Maybe take a shower?" Kim suggested.

"Tired," you told her.

"I know, I know you're tired. But we have to get you out of these clothes before you can go to bed," Kim said. You groaned again. "How about Adam goes and grabs you a new shirt and then I help you into the shower. How does that sound?"

"Okay."

"Adam?"

"On it."

When Adam went to your room, he was immediately hit by the smell of vomit. You had planned on washing your sheets once you had cleaned yourself up, but you felt so bad, that you had just left it and figured you'd get to it when you finally got yourself up and out of the bathroom.

He quickly rifled through your dresser and found a t-shirt. Then, he went back upstairs to find the door closed, so he quickly knocked on it.

Kim had helped you take your shirt off and had thrown it in the sink. You were currently standing up, back facing her, as you waited for Adam to come back with your clean t-shirt.

"Babe, I grabbed the shirt. She okay in there?" Adam asked.

"Just about to take a shower," Kim answered. "Hand it to me when I open the door."

Kim opened the door and Adam handed her the shirt and then she handed it to you.

"Am I good to leave here, Y/N? Or do you need help?" Kim asked.

"I'll be fine," you told her. "But please don't tell Jay or Will."

"Y/N, you got drunk and went over your limits everyone does it. It's—"

"Please," you begged.

"Just, take a shower. We'll figure this out later."

"Okay."

Then, Kim left the bathroom and you took a shower.

"She puked on her bed," Adam said.

"She doesn't want us to tell Jay or Will," Kim said at the same time.

"Okay, wait," Adam started, "say yours again."

"She doesn't want us to tell Jay or Will," Kim said.

"Why not? Everyone does it at least once when they first start out drinking."

"I don't know. Maybe she didn't want to disappoint them?"

"Could be. So, do we tell them or not?"

"I mean, she asked us not to, and I don't think we should. She trusts us enough to call us, so I think we shouldn't break that trust."

"I guess you're right. But, we have another problem."

"And what's that?" Kim asked.

"She tossed her cookies on her sheets."

"Shit, okay," Kim sighed.

"Hey, thanks for coming," you said as you walked out of the bathroom five minutes later in clean pajamas. It's not like you had to wash your hair or anything, just your body.

"You're welcome," Kim said. She pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table and sat down. "Honey, Adam saw your sheets when he walked into your room to grab you a shirt. Do you need any help with that?"

"No, I was gonna clean it up and then I puked and I got hot and then I took a shower and—"

"Y/N, it's okay. We know you're exhausted because you just got all sick. So, how about you strip your bed and throw your sheets in the washer and me and Adam will make your bed. How's that sound?"

You nodded. "Thank you guys so much. And, you guys can take the margarita mix if you want. I never wanna taste that stuff again."

"Don't mind if we do."

"Adam!" Kim smacked him on the chest.

"What? Free alcohol."

"God, you're a college kid in a thirty-year-old's body."

"That's right. Now, let's get this college kid to bed."

***

"Ruz, where'd you get this?" Kevin asked when he saw the leftover margarita on Adam's desk that he brought to share with the unit.

"Oh, Y/N gave it to us when me and Kim went over to help her Friday night when she got shitfaced and puked all over," Adam answered casually.

Kim smacked his chest. "Adam!" She glanced over at Jay who was making his way over to them, an angry expression on his face.

"Y/N got shitfaced this weekend?" Jay asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave Adam a stern look.

"Well, it wasn't really shitfaced because she was still fully conscious and lucid. She was a bit buzzed, and she puked."

"And you know this how?"

"Jay," Kim started, "she did the right thing. She didn't know what to do, so she called an adult."

"She called both of you?" Jay asked.

"Well, uh, she called me but Adam picked up since we were at my apartment..." Kim trailed off.

"Gotcha," Jay said. "Well, I'm glad you helped her. Thanks for that. But me and Will will definitely be having a conversation with her tonight."

***

"So, how was Wisconsin?" you asked as you, Jay, and Will sat down to eat some paninis you and Jay had cooked up later that night.

"It was great," Jay answered.

"What'd you do?"

"Went on the boat, slept in, jumped off in the lake, Hailey made cinnamon rolls, the usual," Jay answered.

"Do you two remember when you guys had me jump off in the middle of the lake without a life jacket?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah," Will laughed. "We had our asses handed to us by Mom after that."

"We gonna jump off, Will?" Eight-year-old you asked your oldest brother who had just come home from college for summer break.

"Duh," Jay replied. "That's the best part, silly!"

"Yes! That's so much fun!" You grabbed your little life jacket and Jay helped you into the boat because sometimes you'd get scared you'd fall into the water in the space between the boat and the dock.

"When can I drive the boat?" you asked as you sat down next to Jay and Will sat in the captain's chair and started backing the boat out.

"When you're eighteen," Will answered.

"But that's ten years!" you protested. "That's too long!"

"It'll go by fast," Jay promised.

"No, it won't." Jay just laughed at your remark.

Ten minutes later, you were out in the middle of the lake and Will was dropping anchor while Jay set up the ladder.

Once that was all set, Jay jumped off the boat without a life jacket. You followed him, but with a life jacket of course. After a few jumps, you took your life jacket off while you took a sip of your red kool-aid. You didn't have to wear your life jacket unless you were in the water. The boys were currently standing on the boat about to jump off again, but they started whispering amongst the two of them.

"Hey, Y/N," Jay started, "What do you think about jumping off the boat without a life jacket?"

"So, like you Will? Like big kids?" you asked, cocking your head to the side.

"Exactly. Will would be in the water and I'd be up here and you'd just jump to him."

"I dunno. Mom and Dad always told me to wear my life jacket when I jump off. I don't wanna get in trouble."

"You won't."

Will jumped in the water and swam a bit further away than usual so you had room to jump in. "C'mon, Y/N! You've taken swimming lessons, you can do it!" he encouraged.

"I- I dunno, Will. How deep is it?"

"Um," he faltered. "Maybe ten of me?"

There's no way you'd be able to touch that!

"You'll be fine," Jay reassured. "Will will be right there. But, you gotta swim to him."

"He won't catch me? But, what if the water monsters get me and pull me under?"

"There's no water monsters," Jay told you.

But, if the water was as deep as Jay said it was, then how does he know?

"I changed my mind," you said quickly. "I want my life jacket back."

"Y/N, you'll be fine," Jay told you.

"No!" you wailed and reached for your life jacket, but Jay grabbed it and threw it in the water to Will.

"If you want it, you have to get it from Will," he told you."

"No!" your lip started to tremble and tears started to form in your eyes. "You get it!"

"Nope, it's yours. You get it."

"But you threw it!"

"And I'm gonna throw you in!"

You tried to run away, but it was too late. And, where would you go? You were on a boat after all.

"J--" You tried to yell, but you were already flying through the air and into the lake without a life jacket.

You hated the feeling of falling into the water without getting pulled back up immediately because of your life jacket. You had swallowed water, too so that wasn't helpful. You kicked your little legs as hard as you could to get back above the water, and when you did, you coughed and sputtered, trying to get the water out of your mouth and take in some much-needed air.

"Shit, Jay!" you heard Will yell as he quickly swam over to you with your life jacket and grabbed you by the waist. "Why'd you do that?" Then, he turned his attention to you. "It's okay, you're okay. Just breathe. I've got you. I've got you."

He set one hand on your back as you started climbing the ladder and then climbed up after you. Then, he shoved Jay in the water.

"What the hell, man?" Jay exclaimed when he broke the surface.

"Dude, I didn't know you were gonna throw her in! Mom's gonna kill you!"

"No, she's gonna kill us! You just swam there and let it happen!"

"You didn't jump off the boat without a parent there for a long time after that," Jay stated.

"And for good reason! I could've drowned!" you argued.

"Will was there. He would've gotten you."

"That's not the point! And I'm pretty sure that's the same logic Mom used when she took your car keys away from you for the rest of the summer and didn't let Will's girlfriend stay over when she was visiting him."

You ate your food for a bit and then Jay turned to you. "So, Y/N, we need to talk."

You gulped. There's no way Adam and Kim told him what happened! They promised!

"About what?" you asked.

"About you getting drunk on Friday night and calling Kim and Adam because you got sick," Jay explained.

"I don't know what you're--"

"Cut the bullshit. Adam told us in the bullpen today. So, I suggest you explain what happened."

So, you explained because you knew not to argue with Jay when he used that tone.

"Y/N, do you know about proofs on alcohol?" Jay asked.

"No, what are those?"

"It's the amount of alcohol in a drink. For example, seltzers typically have 3-5% alcohol in them, but margaritas like the one you apparently bought that Adam has now, has about 19% alcohol."

You widened your eyes. "So, I can't just go on how many glasses I'm drinking?"

"No way. Why do you think shots come in tiny glasses? Because they have lots of alcohol in a small volume."

"Oh, oops. Sorry."

"Y/N," Will started, "This isn't an oops thing. You could've seriously died from that if you kept drinking." You furrowed your eyebrows. "There's this thing called alcohol poisoning. It's when you drink too much alcohol in a short amount of time, so your body can't filter it in your liver fast enough. And, you just got on a new acne medication, so that's also filtered in your liver. Because of this, your liver's working overtime, which could be why you didn't feel super drunk but still threw up."

"Oh, okay." You knew you sounded dismissive, but you were embarrassed about what you'd done.

"Don't you get that this was dangerous?" Jay asked. "You could've died if you kept going!"

"Jay--"

"No, she needs to know this, Will. If you kept drinking, then you could've gotten seriously sick and had to go to the hospital! That's why bartenders cut people off: so they don't get sick because people can die from alcohol poisoning!"

"I'm sorry, okay! I'm embarrassed because I didn't think I even had that much and I didn't even know what a proof was!"

Jay's eyes softened. "Y/N, we're just trying to protect you. Why do you think we told you all that stuff about not leaving your drink unattended at a bar or watching the bartender make your drink and not just taking it from someone? It's because we're trying to keep you safe, Short Stack."

You nodded. "You're right. I really am sorry. And, you don't have to worry about me drinking a lot until I'm off that medication...or ever really."

Will chuckled. "Yeah, we figured as much."

A/N: I threw a few requests together and this is what I came up with. I wrote this in a day btw. (Also, I did get drunk like this once and I'm pretty sure it was because of the combination of the acne medication and the alcohol. Always drink responsibly and only drink if you're of the legal drinking age.) Anyway, thanks for reading and please reblog/like and comment and tell me what you think! As, always, just tell me if you want to be added to my taglist and I'll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies@brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

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Comfort - JJ Maybank

Request: hi!! i love your fanfic about obx and i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is struggling with her body image/self-confidence and the pogues don't know but JJ, her bf, somehow finds out and comforts her? i haven't been feeling very confident lately and i feel like this would help idk why. thank you <33 - @teaheeee

A/N: This was a tough one but here it is.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

“I’ll be like five seconds.” JJ swore, running up the stairs to your room where he’d left his wallet.

“JJ come on.” You groaned, falling back onto the couch. This was at least the fifth time he’d stalled the two of you from leaving the house. You were supposed to be meeting everyone at the beach and you hated being late.

“Hold on!” He shouted. He had dropped his wallet under the bed earlier and almost left without it when the two of you were leaving. While you waited downstairs, he grabbed the wallet, pausing when he noticed the ripped picture on the floor. Shredded by hand into pieces was your school picture, the one you’d just gotten last week.

JJ picked up the pieces, sifting through them for a moment until you called him again, reminding him that the task at hand was getting his wallet so you could get to the Wreck. He didn’t want to bring down the evening and he wasn’t sure what to say so he said nothing when he came down, only holding up his wallet to show you that he found it.

It was entirely possible that he was reading too much into things. That you had really just hated your senior portrait and thought it was awful. There was nothing wrong with that, school pictures were always cheesy. But ripping your picture to shreds wasn’t an isolated incident, not in his mind at least. You’d been avoiding any type of jean or tight all week. He was honestly surprised today to find you wearing a nice dress though he supposed that it was for everyone else’s benefit because you kept holding the hem like it was going to billow up.

You were fine at lunch. It was JJ that caught Kiara’s attention, seemingly more distant than she remembered seeing him before, she leaned over at one point to ask if everything was okay at home.

“What do you mean?” He asked, gaze straying to you as you pushed at the food on your plate.

“Are you okay? You seem really distracted.” She replied, keeping her voice down so no one else noticed.

JJ shook his head, “fine.” He didn’t want to tell Kiara that he was worried about you. If you hadn’t said anything to her, and you clearly hadn’t because she seemed oblivious to your behavior, then he didn’t want to draw attention to you.

It wasn’t any one thing. You couldn’t pinpoint the moment or the day, it wasn’t that you stepped on a scale and gained a few pounds. It wasn’t that your jeans felt a little too tight around the hips. Though now that you thought of it, you were feeling kind bloated lately. But it wasn’t just that. It was the sudden breakout of acne near your jawline and the way you felt like you just couldn’t quite ‘pull off’ the clothes you were wearing. It was the feeling of something being wrong but not being able to pinpoint it. That unsettling, unnerving feeling of looking in the mirror and knowing that it was all wrong. That you were all wrong. Your hair looked dull and lifeless, your skin was puffy and it didn’t glow the way the serum you bought said it would. You could name something from head to toe, there was list, sprawling inside your head of all the things that were wrong. Your posture, your nose, your waist, your legs, your eyes...everything had something wrong.

JJ waited until you were back at your house, sprawled out on the couch with you while you watched some rerun of a stupid show. Never good at confrontation that wasn’t with someone he didn’t like, JJ jumped right in, “Are you okay?”

It was a simple enough question. You could just say yes and he could be satistfied and everything could go back to normal. You could hope that you would eventually shake the awful feelings and be okay. Or you could tell him that you were just tired or just not feeling well or just whatever. It didn’t matter what you said, there were a million excuses and all you had to do was choose one.

But that was easier said than done and you found yourself floundering for a moment, trying to think of the most believeable way to say that you were fine and he didn’t have to worry. He had enougn on his plate, he didn’t have to be bothered with you too.

“Yeah.” You replied, voice a little shakier than you meant it to be and you grimaced slightly at your own voice.

“Are you sure?”

If he was asking the question than it meant that he probably knew the answer.

“Yeah, fine, good.” You nodded.

“I saw you ripped up your picture.” He admitted.

“I can explain-”

He nodded, “you know you’re awesome?” He asked, as if he was expecting some sort of response from you.

“Sometimes,” you shrugged, “I don’t know...I just feel like...it’s not worth it. Like I just want to stay in bed and under my covers because then no one has to look at me.”

“Well I like looking at you so I can’t say I’m a fan of that idea,” JJ replied, smiling when bit your bottom lip, “although if the bed’s big enough than that’s fine, we can hide together.��

“JJ,” you sat up more and so did he, “I’m being serious!”

“So am I,” JJ replied, “you think I’d hesitate to do anything you needed me too? You don’t have to believe me but that doesn’t mean I won’t remind you ever day how incredible you are.”

“You’re such a sap,” you tried to play off his words as if it didn’t make your heart race to hear him say those things to you.

“Eh,” he shrugged, pulling you against him and kissing the side of your head, “worth it. Now, you wanna tell me what’s the matter, really?”

“I told you.”

“More than that.” He stressed.

“I just feel gross I guess. I don’t know, it’s not any one thing it’s just like, every little thing that I see that I don’t like. It’s so easy to just...look at myself and see all the ways that I’m falling short. All the things I wish I could change about myself.”

“I don’t know how helpful it is to say it but, I wouldn’t change anything about you.” JJ admitted. “You’re my best friend, I mean...” he shrugged, almost as if he wasn’t entirely sure how to end that sentence. JJ wasn’t the best with words, he had always had trouble getting his thoughts. He could name every single thing that he loved about you, and the list was extensive, but saying the words felt like his throat was closing up on him.

It didn’t really matter though, you knew what he meant. The soft look and the kiss on your forehead that had you closing your eyes when his lips touched your skin. He wasn’t used to comforting, hadn’t ever had any example of it in his own life, but he was good at it. He was good at letting you know it would be alright. Even if he didn’t say it outright.

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rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years ago

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Little steps (George Weasley x reader) | pt 3 - Awe

Pairing: George Weasley x reader, (hinted) OC x reader

Part 1 • Part 2

Word count: 3254

Summary: Y/N and George deal with everyone around them with a week left to the ball, and then the big moment comes

warnings: probably cursing, but nothing worse

a/n: it’s long but I’m not sorry this time. Next part will most likely be huge too, because I don’t really feel like dividing it up more, but maybe I’ll have to?..

George closed the door to his dorm room behind him and paused for a second, leaning back on it. “How’s the schoolboy doing? Library air working wonders?” His brother looked up at him before going back to the ‘Which broomstick?’ issue Lee and him were huddled over. His reflex was to get back at Fred for that lazy jab, but he didn’t, too dazed to care. He came over to his bed and plopped down onto it.

“I asked Y/N to the ball.” Both his roommates snickered and looked up at him. When he didn’t continue, they looked at each, then back at George. “You did?” Asked Fred, to which George answered with a confirming “mhmm”.

Now they were both laughing. “How loud did she laugh at you, mate?” said Lee between wheezes. “On a scale of Pince’s shushes” added Fred, trying to fake seriousness. George smirked looking at the roof of his four-poster “She agreed” he said trying not to be smug, the idea still odd to him.

“Sure she did. If you snatched Y/L/N as a date, then I’m running for Minister when we graduate.”

The same night, you were all showered, in your PJs. You were standing in your little section of the dorm room, slowly brushing your long, h/c hair, getting ready for bed. Hermione already tucked in with her book, the rest of your roommates still out and about, so you were just with your friend, in that comfortable silence.

“I have a date to the ball” you broke it. “Hmm?” Hermione got detached from her evening read. “Oh, yeah. So he finally got around to asking you?” You broke your gaze from your reflection to look at her. “Actually, it’s not Matt.” Hermione raised her brows and closed her book after marking her page, but did not interrupt. “George asked me.” You pressed your lips tight. “George?..” You nod. She sits up “Our George?” Nod. “George Weasley..?!” “Well what’s wrong with that?” You stop brushing your hair, voice tone still soft, but you got slightly defensive when it was so hard to believe. “No, no.. not wrong” she assured quickly. She was now fully sat up, pushed her covers off and swung her legs over the bed. “I – I guess I just.. didn’t realize the two of you talked? … Like that, I mean. You know, besides when we all hang out or we’re at the Burrow.” She was now examining the rug at her feet. You bit your lip and shrug, looking her in the eye.

As the end of term was getting closer, the time only seemed to speed up. You managed to finish the assignments you planned to do that time and tried to stay on top of the ones still coming up.

Week after your encounter with George were limited to the polite ’hi’ and small smiles across the table or the common room, when you caught each other’s eye, before looking away.

Matthew got around to asking you to the ball when you visited Hufflepuffs’ common room last the previous weekend. He wouldn’t bring that topic anymore.

You were sat on the couch, Matt’s long arm rested on the back of the couch behind you. Your friends were doing some kind of roast contest after a few butterbeers. You were laughing under your breath at them, your own bottle in hand. You felt his hand trace circles on your exposed upper arm – the fireplace in front of you and the faint amount of alcohol consumed enough to keep you warm. You looked up at him to see that his piercing eyes were studying your face. “Everyone in this castle seems to be talking about the ball” he said. “all the girls are freaking out.” accompanied by his iconic eye-roll, which earned your chuckle “..are you excited, Y/N/N?” “For the ball? Of course.” you said, looking down at your lap. You started fiddling with the bottle in your hand, already knowing what’s about to come. “Will you be my date?” he said delicately poking your side with his free hand, his bottom lip caught between his lips in anticipation.

There was a week left till the end of the term. You were sat at the table with Hermione, who was pouring over her potions notes, Harry, reading Flying with the Cannons for the millionth time according to you, and Ron, who was building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap cards, a novel in front of you. You were half listening to them bicker about schoolwork and Harrys lack of preparation before the second task of the tournament.

“Leave him alone, Hermione, he’s earned a bit of a break,” said Ron, and he placed the last two cards on top of the castle and the whole lot blew up, singeing his eyebrows. “Nice look, Ron… go well with your dress robes, that will.” It was Fred and George. They sat down at the table with you. “Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?” George asked. “No, he’s off delivering a letter,” said Ron. “Why?” “Because George wants to invite him to the ball,” said Fred sarcastically. You kept your gaze fixed on the book and tried to hide how you twitched at that sentence, with the words ‘George’, ‘invite’ and ‘ball’ in it. “Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat,” said George. “Who d’you two keep writing to, eh?” said Ron. “Nose out, Ron, or I’ll burn that for you too,” said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. “So… you lot got dates for the ball yet?” he asked missing how you lifted your eyes from the book in front of you to George’s face for just two seconds, biting your bottom lip; his twin’s half-smile “Nope,” said Ron. “Well, you’d better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone,” said Fred. “Who’re you going with, then?” said Ron. “Angelina,” said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment. “What?” said Ron, taken aback. “You’ve already asked her?” “Good point,” said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, “Oi! Angelina!” Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him. “What?” she called back. “Want to come to the ball with me?” Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look. “All right, then,” she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face. “There you go,” said Fred to Harry and Ron, “piece of cake.” “Well, I don’t suppose, Y/N..?” asked Ron quietly. You snorted without looking up. “Yeah, that’s what I thought…” Fred got to his feet, yawning, and said, “We’d better use a school owl then, George, come on…” They left. Ron stopped feeling his eyebrows and looked across the smoldering wreck of his card castle at Harry. “We should get a move on, you know… ask someone. He’s right. We don’t want to end up with a pair of trolls.” You looked up from your book now, and Hermione let out a sputter of indignation. “A pair of… what, excuse me?” “Well — you know,” said Ron, shrugging. “I’d rather go alone than with — with Eloise Midgen, say.” “Her acne’s loads better lately — and she’s really nice!” “Her nose is off-center,” said Ron. “Oh I see,” Hermione said, bristling. “So basically, you’re going to take the best-looking girl who’ll have you, even if she’s completely horrible?” “Er — yeah, that sounds about right,” said Ron. “I’m going to bed,” Hermione snapped “you coming, Y/N?” You didn’t feel like going back to your book anyway, so you nodded and together you took off towards the girls’ dorm without another word.

As both Harry and Ron got rejected by the first girls they asked and the topic of Hermione’s mystery date came round you kept quiet, not because you didn’t know, but you wanted to see the look on their faces when they saw him next to her.

One day during that last week, when afternoon lessons were over with, you decided to finish the chapter you weren’t able to the other evening. So there you were, lying on the couch, in the mostly quiet common room, as you heard multiple voices and laughs coming down the stairs to boys’ dorms. “I’ll believe it when I see it” said Lee, walking into the common room with Fred, George, Seamus and Dean. “Oi! Y/L/N! “ Seamus called over “Yes?..” you said without looking up “That true you’re going to the ball with Weasley?” You sat up, finally looking at the boys over the backrest “You dimwits got nothing better to do? Like last minute homework before the break?” “No” he said quickly, the boys still grinning, looking between each other. George was behind them, arms crossed at his chest, leaning back on one of the tables. “Well there’s lots of them, you’re gonna have to be more specific, dear” George looked at you, tilting his head to the side “Yeah, I am” “Seriously?! What’s he got, that I don’t?” asked Dean, pretending to be hurt “See - if you have to ask, you’ve got your answer, love.”

December 25th, 1994

You stood in front of your great mirror, examining your appearance carefully. You were mentally checking all the steps of your preparations – make-up done, your hair done in a loose low-bun, delicate jewellery complimenting the dress you had on. Oh, that dress. Its colour worked with your hair and eyes beautifully, golden accents making sure you stood out, but not too overbearing. Your shoulders were exposed and the length of the dress was comfortable, so there were no accidental dance-related exposures, but short enough to accentuate your legs. Your feet were adorned with surprisingly comfortable heels, and you used just the right amount of perfume.

You kept wondering if there was something you could’ve forgotten. In that moment, when million thoughts a minute flooded your mind, you wondered if George had asked you, like many others, because you were popular and pretty. Then, you got worried if he even thought you were pretty at all. Glancing at the clock you concluded, you just did everything you could to live up to your reputation.

The entrance hall was already bustling with chatter, students talking to their friends and dates or still waiting for them.

George was standing with Fred and Lee, half-listening to their bickering. His hands slightly sweating in his pockets, he was subtly looking over everybody’s heads to try and find you, then glanced through the entrance to the Great Hall, checking for the third time already if you were perhaps waiting for him there.

His attention brought back to his friends after Lee mumbled a string of rather rude words. “Should I shake your hand or something, mate? Cause damn…” Said Lee directly to him. What was he talking about? Then George saw his twin stare at something behind him with his mouth slightly open. “You might wanna turn around, Georgie.”

Before that night, saying what he thought of you would’ve been difficult. He met for the first time when you were still just a kid. A friend of his brother, a fellow Gryffindor, who after your first year everybody was sure had a knack for heroics. He enjoyed his interactions with you, you weren’t quite like anyone else. Not always saying a whole lot, but when you did, it was on point and your comment only got more bold over the years. You were also popular in the school, especially after puberty hit, and you seemed to interact with people from all the houses. He couldn’t deny it, you were naturally beautiful. That used to be just a fact, irrelevant to his life.

At this very moment in time, as you were slowly making your way down the steps to the Entrance Hall, he couldn’t fathom why you would want to be his date.

Your eyes found him quickly, his tall figure standing out amongst the crowd. Your excitement and unfamiliar nervousness showing in a smile that could light up the darkest of times.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and you were begging the universe not to let you trip on those stairs, when you really couldn’t watch where you were going, your eyes glued to ones across the room. Damn, he looked good in those dress robes.

“Hi.” you said, still grinning, once you walked up close to him. “Hey..” he smiled at you, still feeling as if he was in some kind of limbo. “You look beautiful” he said sincerely, without much thought “Thank you” you almost whispered, looking down at your shoes and blushing a bit. You weren’t really good at taking sincere compliments. “You look real smart” you looked up at him. He was grinning and playfully ran a hand through his hair.

You were saved from trying to fill the silence, as it seemed that the champions had started to gather for their opening dance. “We should go inside.” you gestured towards the great hall with your head. He offered you his arm to take, which you did. As you made your way inside and stepped aside with everyone else, you didn’t let go, but tried to place that feeling. The feeling of being next to George.

As the two of you were dancing, that electric feeling didn’t leave you and you were enjoying George’s company and the comfort it brought you more than you even anticipated. An he was surprised with himself, how the tiniest of your reactions to his jokes, laughs or the most irrelevant comments encouraged him to just let go and be himself.

“I mean, by now you should really just tattoo ‘Death threats welcome’ on your forehead.” he tapped his finger on your forehead “Haa-haa.. you’re the one who had a one-way snowball fight with You-Know-Who.” you replied, to which he scrunched up his eyebrows and looked at you in confusion.

The two of you were having a break from dancing, sat side to side at your table, butterbeer in front of you.

“Three years ago, we were all staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. You and Fred bewitched some snowballs to hit Quirrell on the back of his head, remember?” He nodded, smiling at the memory, but didn’t quite get where you were going just yet. “Well Qu-qu-quirrell turned out to be his number one fan, sharing a head with him, didn’t he?” George raised his eyebrows and you both laughed, leaning on each other as the realization dawned on him. “We’re on the hit-list too, then.”

You talked some more, of the events from the past you never shared your thoughts on, family, people from the school. Then you saw him, across the hall, looking at you.

“Do you mind if I go and catch up with some friends for a bit? I promise to come back.” “Yeah, sure.. of course.” George tried to sound casual. He joined some of his friends in a conversation and mentally scolded himself for feeling possessive of you when some tall Hufflepuff bloke kept smiling, standing so close to you. Or when he took you to dance.

When you walked up to your best friends later, it didn’t go at all as intended. Before the ball you were anticipating Ron’s reaction to Hermione going with Victor Krum, just wanting to get back at him for being nasty. You didn’t expect him to be even nastier after finding out, as you were currently listening to their fight. Truth be told, Ron’s dumb accusations made you speechless at first, but it was getting out of hand. “Obvious, isn’t it? He’s Karkaroff’s student, isn’t he? He knows who you hang around with… He’s just trying to get closer to Harry — get inside information on him — or get near enough to jinx him —” “Would you listen to yourself?! Or have you gone bonkers sitting at the table, green with jealousy the whole night?!” you stepped in “Oh, what would you know about that? I’m surprised you noticed what I did tonight as you were having so much fun with my brother. What’s up with that, huh?! Were you planning on telling me about it?” “Okay, that does it!” Hermione grabbed your hand and pulled your speechless form out of their sight.

When you eventually got back to him, George sensed something was off, but he didn’t feel in place to ask about it. He did the best he could in this situation – take your mind off of it. You were dancing, both your hands in his, and he did everything so over-the-top. Spinning you, then pulling you close to him. After a while, you were a giggling mess, enjoying the sound of his laughter, worries forgotten.

“All right Hogwarts, just a couple numbers left until this night is over, so make the most of it.” said the vocalist of the Weird Sisters, before a slow song came on.

You both froze, testing each other’s reaction, hands still together, though the grip a bit looser.

“Do you.. want to..?” he trailed of his question. “I mean, the ball is almost over, it would be a shame to just sit it out..” was the best answer you could gather up courage for. With that you let go of his hands to place hands delicately on his chest. You were looking at your feet, feeling as if looking up at his would be too intimate. His own hands went carefully to your waist, both of you testing the waters.

And you swayed like that, content with what you had, close to each other, but neither pulling the other in completely.

Being close felt like the forbidden fruit you took a single bite out of, but taking another one would be pushing your luck.

And then the music stopped. You joined in as the crowd clapped the band one last time, listened in silence as Dumbledore thanked everyone and bid you goodnight.

“Let’s let the crowd pass a bit, yeah?” you asked, and he squeezed your hand lightly and nodded.

You were walking back to the common room in silence. Almost comfortable silence. It was just such a shame the night was over, when it could go on forever.

“I had fun tonight, so I guess, thanks for that? I mean, I expected no less” you bumped his side with the little energy you had. “At your service, m’lady” he bowed his head with a charming smile “I had fun too”

Silence.

Before you knew it, you were in front of the Fat Lady. George told her the password and the both of you came through. You only stopped next to the stairs to the girls’ dorms.

“I really had a good time” you were stalling. “Me too”

You let go of his hand to face him properly, standing on the first step to be a little taller, to which he chuckled. Now, closer to his eye level, looking at him was truly intoxicating.

Tonight changed how you saw George. It showed you just how much you liked him as a human being and how well you got along. When you looked at each other, relaxed smile on his face, you looked at his lips and wanted to kiss them so bad.

But you had forbid yourself to jump head first.

You kissed him on the cheek. “Goodnight, Georgie.” you said softly, pulling away. “Night, Y/N..”

You walked up the stairs, leaving him dazed at the bottom.

Part 4

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #george weasley fanfiction #x reader

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imaginingsoftly · 4 years ago

Text

Wedding Date Pt. 1 - Tyler Seguin

Type: strangers-enemies-lovers, series

Requested: no

Warnings: alcohol, swearing, asshole exes

A/N: I’ve been working on this for about 2 months now, and finally have enough finished to be able to share with you guys. A HUGE thank you to @tysojost for reading the first few parts and giving me incredible feedback when I got stuck!

This is going to be somewhere around 7 parts, and I’ll release a new part once a week. Probably Thursdays.

Melissa groaned as she came to. It had been a long night, one that hadn’t ended until almost 3am, and now the sun was shining in her eyes after what had felt like an hour or two. The alcohol from last night sloshed slightly in her stomach as she reached over to grab her phone, and Melissa stilled. She would not puke. Not right now. Thankfully, her stomach settled after a few seconds of blind panic, and she finished reaching out for her phone. The screen was blindingly bright, and Melissa squinted as she stared down at the time in disbelief. Scratch that, it had only been two hours. Damn Ontario and their early sunrises.

She was never drinking with John and his former teammates again. Sure, it had been fun to show off a bit and drink most of them under the table, but damn her stomach hurt. A cup of strong black coffee and maybe a Gatorade were a must before she did anything. There was a small shop in the lobby of the resort that would have Gatorade, she had seen it during check-in the afternoon before. The coffee, thankfully, was in the apartment. As a self-aware coffee snob she’d brought her own grounds and french press, and there was a kettle for boiling water on the stove. Good coffee would go a long way to settle her stomach, Melissa knew that from experience.

The sky was calling Melissa’s name as she peered out the window in her room. It was cloudy, a storm likely coming on the horizon. Her ideal weather. The face looking back at her in the mirror looked a mess, leftover mascara smeared under her eyes and hair a greasy tangled nest. She would need a shower after her walk. Brushing her teeth made her feel like a new person, and Melissa slipped into a pair of shorts and a ratty sweatshirt. The sweatshirt was actually John’s, the groom for the weekend, something she’d borrowed one night after her and Kirsten got a little too drunk in the couple’s living room. Her best friend’s fiance, being the angel that he was, slept in the guest room that night when Kirsten and Melissa passed out in the master bedroom.

Melissa sighed as she stepped into the cool morning air, relishing in how clean it smelled. She loved living in the city, loved the easy access to everything and the ability to walk everywhere, but the air quality was severely lacking. Plus, if there was one thing that Ontario did better than Virginia, it was the weather. Huntsville was cool, cool enough to wear a sweatshirt. It wouldn’t be cool enough to wear a sweatshirt in Arlington again until at least the beginning of October.

The walk to the check in office took almost an hour there and back, but she returned with a large Gatorade and a granola bar. She downed them both on the walk back to her room. The walk had been energizing, and the sights were beautiful. Deerhurst Resort, the wedding venue, was situated on a lake and surrounded by green. It was exactly the kind of weekend escape Kirsten had been convincing her she needed for probably the last two years.

The entire building was still silent as Melissa made her way back into the hotel room, and she began to pull things out of her suitcase for a shower. Kirsten and John hadn’t given her the chance to unpack anything the night before, instead pulling her out of the hotel room and into the party as soon as she’d set her bags down. The bathroom was fancy, way more fancy than the one she had at home, and Melissa let the water begin to heat up while she turned on some music.

Kip Moore began shooting out of her speakers, one of his songs about drinking, and Melissa skipped that one quickly. It was too early to go down that road again. The next song was one of his softer, gentler ones about love, and she let that one play as she stepped under the water. The weekend stay was a bit more than she would spend on just herself for the weekend, even if it was for her best friend’s wedding, and she once again thanked the gods that John’s family had decided to foot the bill for everyone’s stay. She’d needed the break.

A shower was exactly what Melissa needed, and she smiled at herself in the mirror as she smoothed acne treatment and moisturizer onto her skin. The gatorade and KIND bar had done wonders to soothe the sloshing in her stomach, and now her skin felt clean again. She was ready for the real stuff to start now, beginning with the wedding party brunch later on.

The brunch wasn’t for a few hours, when most of the world would be up, so Melissa threw on an oversized long-sleeved t-shirt and some boyshorts rather than her dress for later. There was no need to get all dressy to go through her morning coffee ritual.

Melissa turned up the music as she stepped out of the room and into the kitchen, singing along softly. The coffee grounds, ground before she’d left for Huntsville the day before, smelled heavenly as she held the container up to her nose. There was nothing in the world like the smell of freshly-ground coffee, especially on a morning like this.

“You’ll have to excuse Lissa,” Melissa heard behind her suddenly, “when it comes to her morning coffee she has blinders on.” She heard Kirsten laugh as she swung around, one hand on her chest. Kirsten smirked from her spot in the living room. Her friend looked far too put together for this early in the morning, in her summer dress and sandals, the engagement ring on her finger sparkling in the sunlight.

A tall, dark, and very handsome man stood to her left, an amused smile lighting up his face as well. Tyler Seguin. His arms were crossed, ink peeking out from underneath his long sleeve shirt in what Melissa already knew were two full sleeves. Damn her, Kirsten knew she was a sucker for tattoos. Her friend had threatened to play matchmaker this weekend, and it appeared this statue of a man would be the first attempt.

Tyler met her eyes like he knew what she was thinking, and Melissa turned back to her coffee quickly. Better to pretend she wasn’t interested than embarrass herself. “Lissy,” Kirsten said, “this is my cousin Tyler. He wasn’t sure if he could make it this weekend, so he doesn’t have a room reserved. I put him in the extra room in here.” Of course she did. Melissa knew she was up to something when she’d been put in a two bedroom suite all alone.

She finished putting coffee grounds in the french press before she responded. “I figured there was going to be a latecomer for that room.” It took all of her effort, but Melissa turned around with a pleasant smile on her face. “Welcome, Tyler. Glad you could make it.” His face said that he knew she was lying, but Kirsten didn’t pick up on their silent conversation. She was exclaiming about all the fun they would have together, especially as two single people at a wedding full of couples. Melissa audibly groaned, and Tyler’s lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh.

Kirsten was still talking as she took off into the bathroom, something about drinking way too much coffee with John. “I’m surprised he’s awake,” Melissa yelled through the bathroom door, “him and his teammates did their best to drink me under the table last night.” Tyler looked confused, and she shook her head. ‘Just wait,’ she mouthed.

He smiled for real at her mouthed words, and leaned back against the countertop casually. The movement showed off his arms even more, and Melissa bit back a groan. Kirsten hurried out of the bathroom, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, tried to outdrink you? That’s why he looked hungover as shit?”

Melissa shrugged. “One of the guys assumed I would be a lightweight. I set out to prove otherwise. I outdrank everybody except Cameron.”

“That’s because he’s got a foot and 100 pounds on you!” He really had been substantially bigger. Even at her 170-ish pounds he’d been almost twice her size, and he drank like it too. Although her alcohol tolerance kept up just fine, thank you very much.

The smell of her nearly-completed coffee interrupted Melissa’s train of thought, and she turned back to the french press rather than respond. “I can’t believe you tried to outdrink a bunch of hockey players.” Tyler almost sounded impressed. “What are you, 5’0?” 5’2, actually, but who was counting, right? Melissa crunched the coffee grounds down, pouring herself a cup of perfectly-brewed coffee.

Both Tyler and Kirsten were staring her down when she turned back around with the mug in her hand, the latter looking stunned and the former looking very interested. “It wasn’t that hard. We were drinking IPAs. I basically lived on the shit when I was dating that hipster brewery guy, remember?”

“I try not to.” Kirsten rolled her eyes and turned to her cousin. “She dated this guy, Todd, for like a year. He was a total stereotypical hipster, stupid beard and all. He also fancied himself a brewer, even though his homemade brews sucked ass, and he drank IPA like it was water.” Tyler looked mildly disgusted, and Melissa was inclined to agree with him. “Lissa over here put up with it for way too long because she was too nice to tell him to fuck off. Right Lissy?”

Kill her now. She turned bright red as Tyler’s amused gaze looked her way. She couldn’t even shake her head. “God, I was so happy when you broke up with him.” Kirsten, in the way she always seemed to, managed to make even the strangest of situations even stranger. Don’t just put the random cousin in the suite with the best friend, no. Tell him all about the shitty ex too.

Kirsten dismissed herself with a thinly-veiled excuse and a “see you at brunch”, and Melissa found herself alone with Tyler. They stared at each other for a moment, both taking in the awkwardness of the situation. “So, uh,” Melissa wracked her brain for something, anything really, to say to relax the situation. “Coffee?” She held up her mug, gesturing at the french press. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to make another cup. I promise I brew good coffee.”

She began emptying out the french press without waiting for a response, so Tyler’s answer made her jump. “As long as it’s better than Todd’s homemade IPAs.” Of course he went there. It was pretty apparent him and Kirsten definitely shared the same genes. She would have made the same joke, though maybe a little meaner. After all, Kirsten had known Todd. They’d butted heads more than a few times, actually.

Warmth spread across Melissa’s back suddenly, and she realized Tyler was right behind her. Actually he was basically on top of her, she realized as she turned around. “So I think my cousin plans on hooking us up while we’re here.” Tyler’s eyes were alight with mischief as he spoke, and Melissa didn’t get a chance to respond. “She mentioned how single you were several times, and that I needed a girlfriend. She wasn’t exactly subtle.” No, Kirsten never was. Subtlety wasn’t even a word in her vocabulary. “So I’m thinking,” Tyler said as he brushed a stray piece of hair back from her face, “we could pretend to be getting together as a way to appease her. That way she doesn’t try to set us up at the wedding. We go in together, we leave together, no more single people get shoved in our direction.”

It was a good plan, really, and almost guaranteed to work. Kirsten would be too busy with John to realize that they weren’t all over each other physically, and the coming and leaving together would appease her. “Okay.” Melissa spoke before she really thought it through, and then it was too late. Tyler’s eyes warmed when he smiled, and Melissa tried not to acknowledge how much she liked it when that happened.

“Okay.” His words were soft, softer than she had imagined his voice getting. “I’ll pick you up at 10:30 for brunch?”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Romeo. I’ll meet you in the common area at 10:30.” She began to head back into her room, done with this conversation and needing to get space before she combusted, when Tyler spoke again.

“I’ll knock on your door. If I’m your date this weekend, I’m doing it right.” His eyes were intense when she turned around, and Melissa couldn’t do anything but nod.

_____________________________________________________________

The dress was too much for a brunch. Sure, it was pretty and they were at a fancy resort, but still. It looked more like a date dress than a brunch dress. The white linen sat loose from her shoulders, slightly tight around her chest because there was nothing she could do about that. Her chest got in the way of every loose garment. It came to slightly above mid-thigh, a little higher than she normally preferred, but Kirsten had picked out the dress. Even on that day, before the wedding brunch was planned, Kirsten had commented how perfect it was for a brunch date. A brunch for your best friend’s wedding wasn’t quite a brunch date, but close enough.

Tyler knocked on the door as Melissa was finishing her hair, and she yelled out an answer from her seat on the floor in front of the mirror. He poked his head in and stopped short at the sight of her. “You look,” he trailed off as their eyes met in the mirror. “You look pretty damn good for a girl who drank a ton of former hockey players under the table last night.” She laughed at Tyler’s statement, and his mouth stretched into a smile. “We have like 20 minutes until we have to be there, so how about we get to know each other a little bit?”

He moved to sit on the bed when Melissa nodded, and she tried not to notice how good he looked. He was dressed to match her, completely coincidentally, in cuffed jeans and a white linen shirt. The top couple of buttons were undone, and she could see the tattoo on his pec poking out from the gap. It was a lot to deal with.

“I’m the oldest of four,” Melissa began to distract herself, “and one of three girls. My brother is the next oldest, and he’s my best friend. We do almost everything together. I’m an English professor at George Washington University, and I focus in Linguistics. Specifically language and gender.” Tyler looked impressed as she spoke, and Melissa tried not to preen too much. It wasn’t often that someone appeared interested in her field of study.

While they sat in awkward silence for a moment Melissa tried to focus on her hair, but the braid she was trying to put in her hair wasn’t cooperating. “What about you?” Tyler didn’t seem to hear the question, focused in on her hands as they twisted through her hair in another attempt to form the braid. “Tyler?”

He jerked back to the present when she spoke again, and Melissa actually saw him shake his head a little bit. “Right. Started my career in Boston, plan on finishing it in Dallas. Born and raised outside of Toronto, and I have two younger siblings. Both girls.” Their eyes met in the mirror, and Melissa was struck by how nice the color of his eyes were. “Wanna trade? I’ll give you one of my sisters for your poor brother?”

They laughed together, and she felt herself relax a ton. He wasn’t what she expected, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she had expected. “He’d take that in a heartbeat. Although he’s a diehard Caps fan, so good luck there.” Tyler grabbed his heart sarcastically as if he was in pain, and Melissa giggled into her hand. Finally her hair cooperated, and Melissa stood with a sigh. “Okay, Seguin. Let’s go brunch.”

They walked down to the patio reserved for the wedding party and family arm in arm. She fit into his side comfortably, and Tyler held her closer than really necessary. With their white linen and white sneakers, they looked like a couple. Kirsten’s eyes were full of mischief when the pair appeared on the patio, and Melissa rolled her eyes.

The patio itself looked like something out of a fairytale. Edison bulbs sat overhead on strings slashing across the open space, off since it was the middle of the day. She could imagine the warm glow they would paint the space with were it night, and Melissa almost wished she could come back just for the sole purpose of seeing this place lit up in the darkness. There was a vine and flower-covered brick wall on the far side of the patio, and she saw little twinkle lights sitting in the vines ready to be turned on once it got dark enough. The scent of trees and sweet flowers sat in the air, and a cool breeze came in off of the lake. Tables had been pushed together to make one long table for everyone to sit at, and just about every seat was full.

It looked like Kirsten had gotten others involved in her scheming as well, because the only spots available for them to sit at were side-by-side. Melissa swore her friend up and down when she noticed, and Tyler laughed under his breath. “She really does want to set us up, huh?” This was more than embarrassing. He didn’t ask to be set up with her, and Melissa sure as hell didn’t want Kirsten to think she needed to be set up by family just to find a date. She muttered an apology under her breath, and Tyler reached over to squeeze the hand wrapped around his arm. “It’s fine. At least if people think we’re together they’ll leave me alone.”

The brunch was painfully long, only made easier by the short sarcastic remarks Tyler made under his breath throughout the meal. Melissa loved Kirsten, she really did, but this level of extravagant was really out of her depths. Everything on the menu was some kind of fancy shit she couldn’t pronounce, and all she wanted to do was knock back another coffee and maybe a bagel.

“Ten bucks says Kelly leaves with Cameron tomorrow night.” Melissa snorted at Tyler’s words, even as she fought off a shiver over his lips hovering so close to her ear. “I mean seriously,” he continued, oblivious to her body’s reaction, “she might as well just crawl into his lap at this point.” They really were sitting very closely, and Melissa was convinced she’d seen Cameron’s hand slip up Kelly’s skirt at one point.

Tyler leaned back into his own seat again, though he kept his arm thrown across the back of Melissa’s chair. He’d gradually moved closer over the course of the meal, and now most of his words were directed at her rather than attempting to make conversation with the couple on the opposite side of the table. She’d allowed him to occupy some of her personal space, mostly because whoever set up the tables didn’t account for the size of most of the guests. Tyler was by no means the largest man in attendance, and even he was uncomfortable. This was a wedding full of former semi-professional hockey players, and they were squished into settings made for an average-sized person.

Kirsten shot Melissa another knowing look, along with a not-so-subtle wink, and she’d had enough. It was a little bit too much, and she needed to get away from the intensity of Tyler’s proximity and Kirsten’s attention. Tyler looked up at her confused when she shot to her feet, beginning to stand himself, but Melissa shook her head. “The lack of sleep from last night is getting to me. I’m just going to head back and take a nap, catch up with you for the rehearsal tonight?”

It was a flimsy excuse, and she knew it, but Melissa needed to get away from Tyler for a minute. She needed to breathe and let herself catch up with the wild sequence of events that had been the morning. Tyler didn’t look satisfied with her explanation, but he stayed in place when she sent him a pleading look. It was alarming how well he could read her after a few hours.

Melissa was still thinking about the concern in Tyler’s eyes as she cleared the makeup off her face, and they were the last picture her brain conjured up as she fell into a fitful sleep.

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #tyler seguin imagine #wedding date ml

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fizzingwizard · 4 years ago

Text

Frantically playing catch up because I’m gone the rest of the weekend so here’s day 6 after all! Blatantly Takari. This one surprised me by how easy it was to write so it got a bit longer than the others. I’m sure there are many typos, please overlook. Also has two quotes, one in the text and one at the end, from my long-time favorite poet, Walt Whitman. BTW, I don’t really get everything that went down with Ordinemon, but I did my best to fit canon.

One month post-Bokura no Mirai, Takeru and Hikari go on a date and Hikari encounters something unexpected, which leads to a very overdue conversation with her brother.

Warning - there’s mention of the death of sick baby. It’s not huge but it matters to the story. I don’t want to shock anyone.

---

Tri week day 6 - Journeys - Death of a Comet

"How are you?" Takeru asked, watching her carefully.

Hikari only smiled and pretended not to notice. "I thought we'd known each other long enough to skip the niceties, Takeru-kun," she quipped. It was a far cry from her old playfulness, she knew, but she also knew he wasn't going to call her out for it it just yet.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Takeru rolled his eyes with an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "I didn't realize relationship length was proportionate to amount of shits given."

"It is, at least when the last time we talked was an hour ago over text."

"Duly noted."

"Let's go?"

He nodded. He was wearing another hat she'd never seen before, a dark blue beret that looked about to tip off the side of his head with a light breeze. She wondered if he went out and bought a new hat each time before they went out together. Like how a girl shouldn't be caught in the same outfit twice. He probably did. That was Takashi Takeru, vain as fuck. But there was also something kind of adorable about it.

They'd "officially" been dating for a couple weeks, and Hikari wasn't sure yet how she felt about it. Of course, she'd agreed to it when he asked her. What else could she do? They'd been flirting and toying with each other off and on for years, in a childish way, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know full well what she was doing. She'd even sometimes daydreamed about what dating him would be like. Mostly she imagined it would be a lot of sitting in the bleachers at his basketball games.

She didn't consider Takeru the most mature of the boys in their year, but he wasn't as bad as some. Plus, they'd been through a lot together, so she knew what he was made of. And he really liked her. And she liked him. It seemed unavoidable. She'd said yes because she had no good reason for saying no.

It still felt a bit weird when he reached to hold her hand. Two weeks in, and they had yet to kiss. For the most part, it felt like nothing much had changed between them, except that Takeru no longer tried to hide his excitement when she was near. That was... flattering. And she had no qualms with taking it slow either.

They got on the Yurikamome train and stood together by a window, watching the Odaiba waterfront speed by as they traveled over the Rainbow Bridge. The sky was blue and cloudless. It was the kind of weather Tailmon loved, but Hikari had already talked to her about why she sometimes couldn't come along when she and Takeru went on an "outing." Tailmon had blinked lazily and said that was alright, and given her claws a long, purposeful lick. ”But if he ever hurts you, don't you dare hide it from me.”

Hikari promised, but thought the reverse scenario was far more likely.

Takeru had a more difficult time explaining it to Patamon, she'd heard. Supposedly, after Takeru had given his spiel about how growing up meant needing more time to oneself, Patamon had blurted out, "Are you going to kiss Hikari!? You've got to kiss her, Takeru!" loudly enough that some boys at school had overheard, and as a result everyone knew that they were an item before they'd even been out on a single date.

Such was life with Digimon.

"You know where it is, right?" Hikari asked as they got off the train.

"Yeah, I've come here with my mom for other exhibits," Takeru said, leading her out the exit and onto a busy street. "Mom's really into modern art. We've gone to see Kusama Yayoi's sculptures on Naoshima like four times. I'm pretty sure she goes whenever she breaks up with a boyfriend."

Hikari laughed. "Wait, really?"

"Well, she never introduces them to me, but I can tell when she's seeing someone. She touches up her roots more often."

The art exhibit they were going to see was some sort of interactive light show. Hikari had seen pictures online and thought it looked beautiful. Her father was of the opinion that they only ever put the best pictures on the website, and the rest of the exhibit was probably in some big, white-walled room that smelled like someone had microwaved fish for lunch. Her mom had been more enthusiastic, and added that, if the art did turn out to be a dud, it was as good an excuse as any to sneak off somewhere quiet with her Romeo and, you know, romance him.

Hikari was definitely not going to do that.

She'd timed things with care. Taichi had morning soccer practice until ten. After that he'd come home for lunch. The exhibit opened at eleven, but her concerns about there being a line fell on deaf ears, since Takeru claimed he knew this museum and it was never crowded. (Which didn't do much to mitigate her concerns about the exhibit being any good.) So the earliest she could convince him to catch the train was ten fifteen. So if she left right at ten and headed directly to the station, she ought to be able to miss her brother coming home completely.

It felt like fate was laughing in her face when she ran into him on her way out.

Her shock was mirrored on his face as they both stood in the doorway, staring at each other as if unable to understand why their biological sibling would be there, in their childhood home.

Taichi spoke first, if speech it could be called. "Uh," he said.

"Oniichan," she stammered back, "why - how - you got home fast."

"Yeah... Yamato was having band practice and he gave me a ride on the scooter," Taichi replied.

Hikari kept her mouth shut. Had Yamato orchestrated this? Was Takeru in on it? She knew it wasn't likely in either case, but her hackles were raised. "Oh," she said.

They continued to stand in the doorway. This was, Hikari reflected, the longest conversation they'd managed to keep going in almost a month.

"You... going somewhere?" Taichi asked after a while, tilting his head and looking up and down.

"Museum. With Takeru-kun."

"Oh. Well, have fun."

"Thanks."

As if suddenly realizing he was blocking the exit, Taichi stepped to the side, and Hikari barely restrained herself from running down the hall. The damage was done, though. The minute the elevator door closed, the tears started leaking down her face. Dammit. She'd been so careful.

She'd had to stop off at a nearby convenience store to hide in the restroom. She splashed her face and dabbed her eyes with her hand towel until they were less red, until the evidence of the havoc wreaked just by seeing her brother was hidden under a fresh layer of make-up. She never even wore make-up much before - after all, she was fourteen and blessed with good skin. Dating Takeru had been a convenient excuse to explain to her mom why she suddenly needed extra allowance for concealer, despite having no acne.

She wound up ten minutes late meeting Takeru and still, he could tell right away that something was wrong. She'd managed to deflect, but...

Hikari had never been any good at lying, even to herself. But she was surprised by her own cruelty, dating Takeru because she needed the distraction, an excuse to be anywhere but home. His feelings for her were genuine. She was a monster.

"Hikari-chan?" Takeru gave her a nudge that jolted her into the present. There was, indeed, no line to get in at the art show, and Takeru was trying to hand her a ticket. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She nodded resolutely. "Yeah, of course."

"It's just, you're being kind of quiet."

"Well, sorry but I'm not a professional entertainer."

He didn't reply to that barb. Hikari felt even more miserable. If only Yamato's stupid motor scooter had broken down on the road...

They handed in their tickets and went through a pair of double doors, into a wide room lit by myriad streamers of blue and purple lights wafting on the air like strange, hypnotic jellyfish. No pictures were allowed, so Hikari kept her camera stowed, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Any pictures she tried to take while in such a stormy mood were bound to end up in the trash bin anyway.

They followed the path laid out through fiber-optic tallgrass in silence. Takeru was still gripping her hand, even though her own hung like a dead fish. The next section was a blacklight room with an even more obvious sci-fi vibe, bright cables painted brilliant colors in the impression of sea snakes creating circuitous archs on the walls and ceiling. The heat-sensor flooring lit under their feet as they walked.

Takeru leaned towards her, the blacklight setting his white T-shirt aglow. "This is like some disco-era alien planet," he joked, offering her the olive branch.

Well, she owed it to him not to let this date be a total disaster. "The room before reminded me of the tree in Avatar," she said.

"I bet the next one's gonna be something from Fifth Element."

"No way."

"Could be."

"Completely different aesthetic."

"It's gonna be that giant McDonald's sign made of stained glass. Wait and see."

It wasn't, of course. Takeru continued to insist they'd see the sign in the next room, and the next, until they reached the end of the exhibit, where he finally admitted defeat. At least room four had clearly been lifted from Finding Nemo, he said.

The final room was, in fact, an open space with white walls, but Hikari didn't notice any stomach-turning smells. A combination of 2- and 3D works of art were mounted around the room, and they took their time browsing, continuing to try to outwit each other with their increasingly outlandish, and even somewhat insulting, art critiques. It was a lovely show, Hikari thought. If she'd come to see it in a better frame of mind, she would be raving just now. But though she'd recovered her ability to match Takeru quip for quip, she still felt heavy with gloom. Geez, why did he want to date a rain cloud like her?

"Want to go for lunch?" Takeru asked as they took in the last piece of art, an abstract mosaic made of vibrant, blinking lights laid into a glass frame on a large tabletop. Hikari circled it slowly, watching lights ripple across the frame, stitching the full picture together bit by bit.

"Sure."

"There's a cafe my mom and I go to nearby. It does amazing pancakes."

"Sounds good," she said vaguely, her brow creasing in thought. She took a step back, gazing at the table from what she'd discovered was meant to be the foot, where you could see the picture in full if you craned your neck just so.

It wasn't abstract art. It was Ordinemon.

Her whole body stiffened.

"The orange marmalade pancakes are my favorite - you listening?" With a confused look, Takeru glanced from her unchanging expression to the table. His eyes went wide. "... Let's leave, Hikari-chan."

He gave her arm a tug. She didn't budge.

"Hikari-chan, there's no need to stay here. Come on."

"Why," she said. It came out in a harsh whisper, like a frozen wind. "Why would someone make art of... that."

Takeru didn't answer for a minute. "Because... they saw it," he said after a while. His grip on her arm tightened, as if expecting her to try to break away. "So they want to express what they saw."

"It's an abomination," she choked out. Humiliating tears welled up in her eyes.

Takeru seemed to hesitate. Then he stepped back, and his arms circled round her shoulders, locking her in a tight hug from behind. The warmth of his body flowed into her ice cold one, solid, real. Her mind flashed to another day, with a roiling sky black as night, when she'd come to in an unfamiliar bed with Takeru at her side and known, with a rush of deadly certainty, that she'd destroyed everything she ever cared about.

Her brother. Her beloved partner. Her friends.

By her own will.

She didn't know what she'd done. Or how. That almost made it worse, the not knowing. Her heart broke, watching her brother disappear in the earthquake. That was all. Her heart broke and she... stopped. And when she started again -

It was too late.

Tailmon had told her she didn't regret the fusion with Meicrackmon, that she'd been able to hold poor Meicoomon together, just a little longer. There was nothing for Hikari to regret, she said. Powers beyond her control. Yggrasil and Homeostasis felt they could wage their little war and pick their champions, and dispose of them when they felt like it. No sooner had she shaken off Homeostasis's hold over her that Ordinemon happened.

Hikari hated that once upon a time, she'd believed Homeostasis was a benevolent presence. That she'd willingly let her into her mind.

Now she didn't know what to believe.

Rage flared, hot as ice. Her whole world, none of it made sense anymore. She was adrift, she was unmoored, there was no safe harbor, not even in the brother who she loved like no one else. He could make a choice like that, to kill Meicoomon, to kill their friend's irreplaceable partner. The one person who deserved the most to be saved. And she'd helped, because that was what you did, on a team, at least, if you couldn't come up with a better plan yourself.

She realized she was shaking. Takeru only held her tighter, his nose buried in the crook of her neck.

"Hikari-chan," he said, and he sounded - terrified. "What if - what if it's not, though. What if it's not an abomination. What if..."

"How can you say that," she hissed frostily.

"I mean - I'm not saying it was good. I'm not saying I don't wish none of this had happened. But - I think - Ordinemon, she was created from despair, yours and Meicoomon's. She was used, and it tortured her. We freed her from that. She would have destroyed everything, even though it's not what she wanted, and she was in so much pain -"

"Stop!" Hikari yelled, pushing away from him. There was enough strength behind her need to get away and he was not expecting it, so he toppled to the floor while she raced out the exit. She kept running, hardly aware of dodging people on the sidewalk, and ran until she found herself in a small park with nothing but a two-seater swing set and metal slide. She sank into one of the swings and dropped her head in her arms. And cried.

Cried for Meiko, for Meicoomon. Cried for the future they would never have.

Cried for her brother, who had changed, and she understood why, but she still missed the way he used to be. Her guiding star.

Cried for herself, a lost comet streaking through an unfamiliar galaxy, wondering if she would vaporize shooting too close to an alien sun, or if she'd putter out slowly until she was nothing but lifeless, crumbling stone.

Her phone buzzed in her purse - Takeru, surely, trying to find her. On top of everything else, she'd ditched the boy she was stringing along, who cared about her, and who had tried so hard to let her know she wasn't alone. She didn't deserve Takeru. She would break up with him - she had to. He should be with someone stronger than her, who wasn't going to fall apart at the seams just from a silly piece of art at a museum gallery.

After a while the sobs let up enough that she could see without tears clouding her vision, and she figured she should at least let him know she was okay. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to upset you.

12:35: Takaishi Takeru: where did you go? someone said you ran past the 7-11 but I have no idea where you went from there

12:37: Takaishi Takeru: please tell me where you are. If you don't want me to come, I won't. I can call someone if you want.

12:38: Takaishi Takeru: I just want to know you're okay

12:40: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan PLEASE respond

12:45: Takaishi Takeru: I asked at the 7-11 but they said they didn't see you. am walking around aimlessly now. no idea where to look.

12:48: Takaishi Takeru: hikari-chan if you don't reply soon I'm gonna have to call Taichi-san

12:52: Takaishi Takeru: wound up back at the train station, if you want to meet me here.

12:55: Takaishi Takeru: if you don't respond in five minutes I'm calling Taichi-san, I mean it.

12:58: Takaishi Takeru: I love you, by the way. think I always have. thought you might want to know

Fresh tears pricked her eyes. Leave it to Takeru. How could he pick now to spring that on her?

She should be happy. She wanted to be happy.

13:02: Me: I'm okay. I'm sorry. Go home. I'll talk to you soon.

Her finger hovered uncertainly over the keypad. She typed:

The real abomination is me.

Then she deleted it, and pressed Send.

---

Little though she wanted to go home, Hikari didn't have an excuse for staying out past dinner. She stayed in the little park until it started to get chilly. A couple times, the occasional grandma stopped to ask if she was alright, but she smiled and waved away their concerns. Finally, when twilight fell over the park in a gossamer curtain, she stood and stretched out the kinks in her back before heading back to the station. It felt like she'd been out much longer than a few hours. She thought briefly of asking a friend if she could spend the night, but didn't like the idea of needing to pretend to be peppy and cheerful.

On the ride back, she did a search on the artist who'd made the Ordinemon mosaic. Why, she had no idea. Some self-hating side that wanted her to hurt, she guessed.

The artist's name was Matsuyama Risa, a Tokyo-based sculptor, whose partnership with Fujii Fiber-optics had given birth to the displays they'd seen today. Hikari let her eyes skim the article, categorically uninterested in the number of lights used or how they were installed. What she wanted to know appeared like magic, tacked on at the very end of the article.

Art of Nippon Now: The last room in the showcase features a magical light-up mosaic of a subject that could be disconcerting for some viewers. What led you to recreate the monster that much of Tokyo watched terrorize the sky last month?

Matsuyama: I put that piece together in a feverish rush. Most of these installations took weeks to install, but I insisted on this one, even though it was such short notice. I had to have it. I heard that many people never saw more of her than her massive wings, but I happened to have a very clear view at the time. It made a huge impression on me.

ANN: You said her?

Matsuyama: It was a she. Or, perhaps it's better to say she might not have a gender, but she deserves better than the pronouns we use for inanimate objects, things without personality.

ANN: Are you saying this monster was a person?

Matsuyama: I don't know if you heard her cries, but they were deafening. They reminded me of how my son wailed in the night when he was first born. We didn't know why he was so colicky. Nothing we did calmed him. I was so afraid that he wasn't getting enough sleep. It turned out he was very sick and we just didn't know. The illness was hidden. We spent many nights in the ICU, holding out hope that he would be alright. I remember thinking, if he wasn't, it would destroy our marriage.

ANN: That sounds like a terrible experience.

Matsuyama: When our son died, it was terrible, but it also came as a relief. At least we knew he was no longer suffering. I was depressed for months. I couldn't make any art. Every day I expected my husband to leave me. The first day I pulled myself together enough to sketch something, he said I should sketch our son sometime.

ANN: So your husband didn't leave?

Matsuyama: No. He stayed by my side. When I cried that he deserved a woman who could make him happy, who would give him healthy babies, he told me I was the strongest woman he knew, and that I'd given him the best son in the world.

ANN: Wow - would that we all meet men like that.

Matsuyama: And women. That's why, although the creature that appeared over Tokyo was very frightening to look at, when I heard her cries all I heard was suffering. I thought, that is a real creature, who wants her pain to be understood. She represents something. Perhaps she was sent to show us the harm we do when we choose not to act to help others. She shouldn't be forgotten.

ANN: So you memorialized her in this mosaic?

Matsuyama: Yes. It was the right moment, even though I had no time. I wanted to recreate her likeness using lights. I set her into a table, because I felt that putting her on a wall would be too imposing, and viewers would only remember the fear she engendered. Lying down, it would seem as if she were in a coffin, finally laid to rest. But she's lit from within, and it's the light of life, desperately clinging on till the final moment, the same as any being with a soul.

ANN: Did you ever complete the sketch of your late son?

Matsuyama: No. I never did. But I think I will soon. I want to lay him to rest in my heart.

ANN: It's interesting that when you say 'lay to rest,' you seem to mean we should remember them.

Matsuyama: Our memories make us who we are. The past is always with us. My son, that creature, they are both part of my journey, as an artist of course, but also as a person in the world. You could say my son is the light of the world and that creature is the darkness, but I hold both light and dark in me, just by existing and being human.

ANN: You added a quote to the piece that said something of that nature.

Matsuyama: Yes, from a Walt Whitman poem, 'Song of Myself.' The quote reads: "I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also."

ANN: Maybe Whitman never expected his poem to be used in this way.

Matsuyama: That's the nature of art. It is a journey in and of itself. It fluctuates and changes to nourish the times. I hope everyone who sees my art understands that they are on a journey as well, and everything they do creates the work of art called "the future."

ANN: Thank you for your time, Matsuyama-sensei.

---

Her brother was home, but her parents were not. The arrangement of shoes in the entryway said as much. Taichi was seated at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of noodles and reading something. He looked up when the door opened and pushed his seat back.

"Hikari - you okay?" He peered at her, concerned. "Takeru didn't do something stupid, did he?"

So Takeru hadn't told her brother that she'd run off. Gratitude flooded through her. "No, of course not."

"Good." Taichi's hand rifled through his hair, the other planted on his hip, and he looked perplexed. "Then why do you look like you've been crying all day?"

Hikari walked inside and sank down on the couch. "Because I have been crying all day."

She could feel his hesitance as he wavered in the hall, trying to decide if he should press her for more. If that was still something he was allowed to do. She knew he would try. He wouldn't be Taichi if he didn't.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, but he didn't relax, as if expecting her to tell him to leave her alone.

"No," she replied.

He nodded. "Okay." There was a pause. "You're sure Takeru didn't -"

"No, Oniichan."

"Okay, okay."

She sat there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the black TV screen. Soon Taichi slid off the arm into the seat beside her, allowing several inches of space between them. He didn't try to talk anymore. Didn't even get up to bring his bowl of noodles over, even though it was going to get cold.

Hikari tilted her head ever so slightly to peer at him. Dark circles ringed his eyes. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well. Something about his face looked more defined, less roundness to his jaw, starker cheekbones. Hadn't been eating much either, she guessed. It gave him an oddly grown up look. She would have to call him on losing weight from not taking care of himself, but that could wait for later. She was struck by how little he looked like their father. Everyone always said Hikari was the spitting image of her mom, so it seemed natural that Taichi should take after their dad, but though she searched she couldn't find many similarities. Taichi was just Taichi.

He gave a start when she leaned toward him and settled her head on his shoulder, but didn't say anything.

Hikari thought about many things.

How unbearable it was to feel helpless. How much she wanted everyone who cared about each other to be together, and for no one to suffer who didn't deserve it. How deeply she loved her friends. How easy it was fall apart.

Maybe all that meant was her worldview had been too delicate to begin with. A painting on a porcelain vase wouldn't stand the test of time unless handled with the best of care. The real world was too chaotic, too disordered. She could wrap her dream in newspaper, cover it in packing peanuts, tape it into a box marked "Fragile," and it would still end up in shards. She would try to put it together again, but the pieces were sharp, and she kept cutting herself on them.

She still wanted it. So, so much.

"You stay that way. You can hate me if you want," her brother had told her. Trying to put everything on his own shoulders, as usual.

"I will probably never forgive you," she'd said, and wouldn't let him. "But that's why I'll fight with you."

"Oniichan," She slipped off his shoulder, buried her face in his chest. She didn't know how she could still have more tears, but they darkened her brother's shirt as her hands hugged him tight. "I'll always fight with you."

Surprised, he didn't move for a moment, but then his arms wrapped around her the same way they always had, ever since she was small. His grip was sure, but not out of naivety. Yes, he'd lost his innocence. It wasn't coming back. But what grew in his place, she realized, was his choice. And she got the feeling he'd already decided.

"That's good to know," he murmured softly, lashes brushing her cheek, and she thought they might be wet as well. "Because I'm never going to stop fighting for you."

They held each other for a long time.

---

The next day, Hikari showed up at Takeru's door with flowers and a box of chocolates. He made a funny face, looking her over.

"Flowers and chocolates? Shouldn't this be reversed?"

"Didn't know you were such a traditionalist," she joked. "But I'll eat these myself if they hurt your manly pride."

A hesitant grin spread over his face. "To hell with convention. Those are my chocolates, keep your paws off them."

It was silly, and cliche, but this was her life. She could be as silly and cliche as she wanted. She pulled his shoulders down and kissed him. It was light and quick, but he still looked flustered when they parted.

"My mom's home," he said with an unmistakable note of regret.

Hikari only nodded. "Figured. Video games and chocolates?"

The grin unfurled for real. "Yeah, that would be great."

Nothing had ended. She hadn't gotten over anything. But she felt, for the first time, that now she could accept it. It was a piece of who she was, and it would be a piece of who she became. But just who that person would be, she intended to decide for herself. Even if her path got buried under mountains of broken shards of glass, that was just a part of being Yagami Hikari.

"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes)."

#triweek2020 #takeru takaishi #hikari yagami #taichi yagami #takari #digimon adventure tri #fizz writes #digimon

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thesassenachswiftie · 4 years ago

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Lover Chapter 6 - “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5

Summary:

It's been a month since Jamie and Claire's emotional parting. What happens when they run into each other, at a high school football game of all places?

Notes:

Thanks so much for reading and commenting! I know the last chapter was painful. Angst just makes everything else so much sweeter, right? We left our lovers in a pretty dark place, and a month later their emotional states are not much improved (I wonder why?). This is my favorite chapter I've written so far, I hope you like it!

The late September air kissed Claire’s cheeks bringing a lively flush to her face as she wrapped her blue and yellow fleece blanket tighter around her shoulders. It was Friday night and the homecoming game was in full swing. She had chosen a spot in the upper corner of the bleachers where the crowd was thinner. Being the school nurse, Claire was a member of the school faculty, and expected to be present for at least one of the weekend’s festivities. It was much better to be a little cold at the game then chaperoning the dance the following evening. No thank you, she did not need to see her beloved students grinding against each other like animals.

Claire would never forget the first time she chaperoned a school dance and saw Mary Hawkins attached at the mouth to some gangly, acne-ridden boy on the dance floor. Sweet, innocent Mary Hawkins, a stammering girl who visited her office at least twice a week for her inhaler when an anxiety attack caused her asthma to flare up. Who knew she could hold her breath for that long? Claire had just stood there on the sidelines, revolted but unable to look away. Eventually, Jo noticed and stepped in “No PDA at School functions!! Don’t make me call your parents, Alex” The mortified couple simultaneously turned a shade of red Claire wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before and separated as if they were spring-loaded. “Boys will be boys then, but where are the wise men?” was Jo’s aside as they returned to Claire’s side.

Claire wished Jo was here now, but unfortunately they had a weekly D&D commitment on Friday nights that simply could not be missed. She didn’t really wish Jo was there, she wished somebody was there. Someone that could warm not only her chilled body, but her chilled heart. She tried to conjure up Frank in her mind, his arm around her, explaining the nuances of the game, but she had to admit to herself that Frank wasn’t the one who could warm her to the core. That's what got her into this mess in the first place though. You play stupid games you win stupid prizes, she thought to herself. She tried to shake the thoughts from her head and focus on the game, hoping the cold would numb her heart the way it numbed her nose. It would be easier if she understood American football, her very-English-indeed father had never enjoyed the sport the way her friends’ fathers did growing up, and Uncle Lamb had certainly never taken an interest in it. All she really knew is that the Wildcats were losing and the crowd around her was starting to look dejected. As she scanned their faces her eyes caught on russet curls in the bleachers below her, several rows down in the center was Jamie. Even from the back he was unmistakably recognizable, his large frame filling out the sherpa lined jacket he was wearing, effortlessly unbuttoned despite the chill in the air. He seemed to be with a woman and a group of children and young teens, at least two of the smaller ones were running up and down the bleachers. Probably his sister, she assured herself—she hadn’t met Jenny but she knew she had several children.

She counted days, she counted miles but now to see him there brought everything she had been trying to forget back in a rush. Her face felt even more flushed than before and something deep in her heart stirred awake. She stared at him voyeuristically--simultaneously willing him to turn around to catch her eye and hoping he wouldn’t see her. Surrounded by canoodling teenagers she thought to herself, you know I adore you; I’m crazier for you than I was at sixteen for anybody. It was like she was lost in a film scene, waving homecoming queens, the marching band playing and those Friday night lights. Halftime had started and she hadn’t even noticed until Jamie arose from his seat and started heading up the bleacher steps. She tried to watch him from the corner of her eye. He looked exactly the same, yet different somehow, like the spark was missing from him. We’re so sad we paint the town blue she mused to herself. She knew she had hurt him, but it was better to do so in the short run than string him along. As a nurse, she knew the benefits of ripping a bandage off quickly. She averted her eyes down as he passed; the stairs were far enough from where she was sitting that she hoped he wouldn’t notice, and he didn’t seem to as he continued up to the concession stand. She released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and was left with her head hung as she tried to come up with an escape plan.

“Claire?” that rolling Scottish way he said her name interrupted—no—obliterated her thoughts. She looked up at those blue eyes, filled with the same concern and heartbreak as they had been a month ago.

“Hi, Jamie! Fancy seeing you here!” She tried to sound casual. Do I sound casual? Fancy seeing you here? Who says that? Her heart was beating so loud it was difficult to tell. His arms were full of nachos, hot dogs and drinks and though he looked confident in his balancing act, it seemed like he might lose an item at any minute.

“Erm... do you need a hand with that?” She spoke without thinking. What are you doing Beauchamp? This is exactly the opposite of keeping your distance.

“Aye, that’d be… helpful” She grabbed a flimsy cardboard tray of hotdogs loaded with various toppings from him before he dropped it. “Thanks, Claire”. The way he said her name made her feel like the hormonal teenage girls they were surrounded by, all fluttery and silly. There was nothing she could do but to follow him down the bleacher steps with the tray of hot dogs and a cup of what smelled like hot cocoa she had also grabbed from him a moment before.

“Here we are” He distributed the food to the various children, saying each one’s name and order as he did. Claire couldn’t really remember any of the names he said and just stood there, mouth gaping slightly as he reached for the objects in her hands. Once her hands were empty, she stood there awkwardly. “Ye’re welcome to join us, Claire” he said, patting the cold metal bench beside him. She gave an awkward smile and proceeded to sit, unable to say no to him when she said her name in that way that made her knees feel like they were made of jelly. “Everyone this is my friend, Claire—Claire, this is everyone.” There were slight waves and smiles but ‘everyone’ was mostly concerned with their snacks and didn’t pay much notice to the stranger with the dark curls sitting beside their uncle.

Only Jenny, at the far end of a row of children, was polite enough to call down “Pleased to meet you, Claire, I’m Jenny, Jamie’s big sister” Claire smiled sheepishly and waved down to her end.

After a few moments of awkward silence Claire asked, “so what brings you to our fine academic institution’s homecoming game?”

“My nephew Ian, number 13” he said, gesturing towards the field. “We tried to get him to play footie--soccer as they say here, but Ian’s always marched to the beat of his own drum. He seems to be verra good at assimilating to the American way.”

“I see” affirmed Claire, admiring the way Jamie spoke of his family. God, he was so perfect. Too perfect for me—no one like him deserves an adulterous hussy with a trail of broken men behind her. No, he’s better off without me—but he’s so close. She could feel the heat radiating off his body towards her. Whatever that spark she felt between them when they first met was still very much there. He was just as tense as she was, she could tell, his arm opposite her was drumming a steady beat on his thigh. She wished so desperately that she could read his mind.

The two boys beside Jamie had finished their hot dogs and had started climbing underneath the bleachers. They seemed to be testing the boundaries of what was safe, but weren’t going higher than they should. Jenny kept a watchful eye on them and Jamie was alert to them as well.

“Sassenach, you ken what I’ve heard about American teenagers” he spoke softly, close to her ear so only she could hear him. It made the fine hairs on her neck stand and gave her the sensation of something stirring deep within her.

“What American stories have you been hearing?” she giggled, trying to imagine the insight she was about to gain.

“I heard... that they go underneath these bleachers and make out.” he rasped, his voice feigning concern.

“Shocking. What is this world coming to?” She gestured as if she were clutching an imaginary string of pearls. Flirting with him came so effortlessly, as it had since the very beginning and she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

“See those bleachers o’er there, Sassenach?” she nodded as he gestured to the opposing team’s bleachers across the field. “If I were an American teen, I would bring a lassie underneath those bleachers—much quieter you ken, than with these wee monkeys crawling about.”

“I see” she smirked and raised an eyebrow, daring herself to get lost in those blue eyes.

“You know, as a member of the faculty of this school, isna it your responsibility to check to see the teens aren’t doing anything… unsavory?”

“I suppose it might be part of my job description.” she was wondering where this flirty banter was headed. She felt alive again for the first time in the month since she had seen him last.

“I must admit, I have to use the facilities, perhaps you should see to that while I’m gone.” He was sure to catch her eye as she said it, blinking like an owl in a pathetic attempt to wink at her. His meaning was clear though.

He arose and announced to his family he had to use the toilet and he might leave from there and meet them at home. The team was losing disastrously, the other team was full of brutes and the Wildcats were left battered and bruising. The cheerleaders were a collection of depressed damsels, and the crowd was already starting to thin, so this came as no surprise to anyone as Jamie took his leave.

So there Claire was—left alone with a decision to make. She was feeling so many things at once, a little scared, a bit apprehensive, but mostly excited. She couldn’t go back to him though, it wouldn’t work. She knew he was leaving soon and she was determined to achieve her goals and prove to everyone who she really could be without any distractions. If she was ever going to restore her reputation, she had to stay far away from him. She had to tell him to stay away. And now the storm is coming she thought to herself as she set herself to march over there and tell him off again.

----------

It was quiet under the bleachers. Claire didn’t see Jamie at first, shadowed under the bleachers. “I was beginning to think ya wouldn’t come, Sassanach”. The familiar nickname captured her heart again, making her feel weak, losing her resolve. Jamie closed the distance between them in three strides. “I took the liberty of checking for teenagers for ye, the coast is clear. Now as for the making out part…” He lifted her chin and their eyes met. Claire’s knees felt like they were made of sand and would dissolve at any moment. Her pulse quickened and her breath became shaky. There he was, burning before her, asking permission with those goddamn gorgeous blue eyes and she was feeling helpless.

“Jamie. I...” She couldn’t look at him. She turned, the scoreboard momentarily lighting her face and ran for her life.

He caught her arm gently but firmly moments later. “No, you dinna get to run away again without hearing me out. It’s you and me. There’s nothing like this.” he was practically growling at her. Claire sensed something deep and primal in his voice and her lip started to quiver.

Eyes fixed on the ground she spoke as boldly as she could through her quivering vocal cords, “I’m a bad, bad girl. I’m no good for you. I’ve done so many horrible things. You are the only one that seems to care about me, but you should know that it’s not worth it.” the tears were starting to flow freely now as she sobbed, “Just let me go.”

“No, I don’t want you to go. I dinna really wanna fight either because nobody’s gonna win, but I’ll fight you if I must, Claire, I’ll fight for you, for us ‘cause I know this is a fight that someday we’re gonna win, and I’ll never let you go.” Jamie was huffing with exasperation and passion. “I just thought you should know. It’s you and me. That’s my whole world”

Claire’s knees couldn’t hold her up anymore, she collapsed on the ground, a sobbing mess. How could he still love her after all she did? I don’t deserve this. I came here to break it off and now I’m likely to run away with you. He was on his knees too now, facing her, rubbing her back gently, waiting patiently for her to compose herself. She was finally able to glance up at him through puffy, tear-stained eyes. “Darling, I’m scared.”

#lover #miss americana and the heartbreak prince #outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #jenny murray #modern au #inspired by taylor swift #angst #fluff

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

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Knight In Black Leather

Pairings: Punk!Tom x Reader (I saw this edit and couldn’t help myself)

Summary: When Tom sees Y/N getting harassed by a guy who looks like he has far from good intentions, he decides to step in.

Warnings: Drugs (implication of date rape drugs), Implication of intention to rape, Fighting, Vomit, More cursing than usual for my fics, Tom being an absolutely sickeningly sweet gentleman

Word Count: 4400

A/N: This is strictly self-indulgent if I’m being honest. The whole creepy guy trying to be rape-y and getting beat up for it is actually something that did happen to me at a concert and I’m just fantasizing about punk!Tom being the guy who beat him up so I’m sorry if the details are weirdly specific XD. Also, Tom being protective and fighting but then a 10/10 gentleman is just something I NEED in my life like right now. I’m not even sorry this is so self-indulgent

_______________________

Music blared in your ears, making your very soul rumble with the weight of the bass and the crashing drums blaring over the numerous speakers around the room. Lights strobed all around the room, illuminating your face when it passed over you. Bodies were everywhere and, even though you weren’t in the mosh pit, people were still close to you in every proximity, just not ramming into your full force back here.

“Dude, I’m so fucking excited!” Your best friend Lillia yelled into your ear as the opening acts played. “I can’t believe you actually won tickets to see our favorite band play! I mean, who actually wins those things?”

The giddy smile on your face hadn’t disappeared since you pulled into the parking lot, “Apparently, I do now!”

“You should start calling in on those ones that pass out money!” She yelled back with a laugh.

This girls night was much needed. Both of your jobs had been kicking your asses lately, what had started as a job you were actually excited about starting gradually becoming more and more soul sucking. When you heard your favorite band was playing in town and the local radio station was giving out two free tickets, you couldn’t help but call in. Not that you expected anything of it, of course, but when the hosts’ voices began congratulating you on the other end, you couldn’t stop thanking them.

Now you and Lillia were in the dark venue that already smelled like sweat, your boots sticking to the ground with spilled alcohol with every step. Both of you were dressed ready to kill. You wore distressed black stockings beneath your black shorts, paired with a black crop top and your favorite boots. Your eyes were painted dark and sultry. A few bracelets dangled around your wrists and your hair was tricked out just how you liked it for concerts. It felt refreshing to finally be able to be like this again. You’d been forced into looking professional for work and then on your days off, you were too tired or busy to get all dressed up. Looking like this, you felt like a million dollars.

As the second opening act went on, you noticed Lillia gradually start to turn greener and greener every time you glanced over at her. Her energy was quickly draining and her initial giddy jumpiness had turned into a sluggish grip on your shoulder. “Are you okay?” You asked, turning to your friend with a concerned expression.

Her mouth hung open slightly and her eyes rolled a little as she swallowed hard. You were expecting something, a head roll or shake, but her hand came to cover her mouth and, without warning, she took off up the short stairs and ran to the bathroom, bumping into people all along the way.

You snapped into action, following her, apologizing to everyone she’d ran into in her desperate attempt to find the toilet. By the time you made it, she had already crashed to her knees at the front of the white porcelain seat and heaved the contents of her stomach into it. You grimaced at the sounds, trying your best to not breathe through your nose, but leaned over to gather her hair out of her face for her.

“You alright?” You asked her once she finally stopped heaving, sitting on the tile ground and leaning back against the stall. A slightly disgusted look crossed your face when you watched her bare hands touch the nasty public bathroom floor, covered in who knew what.

She shook her head, “I think I got food poisoning. I tried some new place for lunch after work today.”

“Oh shit. Do you want to head home?” You asked, heart falling a little at the prospect. You wanted so badly to stay here but her health was more important than some concert.

Again, Lillia shook her head, struggling to stand up. You reached down to help her up. “You stay. I’ll head back to my place.”

“What? No! I don’t want to leave you alone when you’re feeling this crappy. We can leave, it’s not that big of a deal. We’ll catch the next concert.” You insisted, already reaching for her keys that you were holding onto in your pocket.

Lillia made her way out of the stall and to the sink to rinse her mouth out, looking back up to you after she spit, “Really, I don’t want to ruin your night. Besides, you don’t need to spend all night watching me puke my brains out.”

You stopped and thought for a minute. Thankfully, she didn’t live too far away and you could always stop by after to make sure she was alright. “Okay, fine. I’ll take an Uber or something. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Lillia looked at you apologetically, taking her keys from your hand, “I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Have enough fun for the both of us.” You walked her to the front door before watching her leave (well, actually, she ran out the front door in a desperate search for the nearest trash can). Security stopped you from helping her, telling you that if you left, you’d be denied re-entry. After she was done puking again, she held up a weak thumbs up to you and wobbled off towards the parking garage.

With a heavy sigh, you turned around and went back to the main floor, grabbing an overpriced bottle of water on the way. The other headlining band had begun to play while Lillia was busy emptying her stomach in the bathroom but you didn’t mind much. They weren’t who you came to see. You only knew a few of their songs, singing the ones you knew and just headbanging to the ones you didn’t.

Suddenly, there was a big crash against your body and you flinched immediately defensive, especially when the person kept jumping practically on your toes. You stumbled a few inches over before looking over, clearly annoyed at the man who was jumping up and down. You made eye contact with him and threw your hands up, the message clear: What the fuck is your problem?

He had a big smile on his face as he was clearly oblivious to the inconvenience he’d caused you. “Hey! You want this? My friend was supposed to meet me here but didn’t so now I have this extra drink!” He yelled to you, extending a clear plastic cup of what looked like beer to you. When your eyes trailed down to the bottom, though, you noticed it looked hazy, almost like there was something dissolving in it.

Your eyes immediately went back to his face, trying to carve into your memory what he looked like. His hair was short and brown, his pale skin had a few divots from what you could only assume were acne scars. His clothes were loose and baggy. In all honesty, he looked out of place amongst all the metalheads, goths, punks, and other alternative people. A Vanilla Ice concert looked like it would have been more fitting for him and his bright red apparel. But what stood out to you most was the way his pupils were blown wide, almost as wide as his iris. It was apparent this man was on something. You didn’t know what it was but you could tell by how clear his eyes were that it wasn’t marijuana.

“No!” You hollered back, turning away from the man and returning your attention to the band.

“Awe, c’mon, sweetheart! It’s gonna go to waste and beer here is fucking expensive.” He whined, waving it out in front of your face.

“Then why don’t you drink it?” You tested, eyebrow raising in a clear challenge. He was quickly getting on your nerves and you were feeling uneasy.

He laughed and shook his head, “Nah, this is some hipster shit that my friend liked. Miller Lite for me all the way. C’mon, just take the drink. Who turns down a free drink?” He swayed in a terrible attempt at some confident walk towards you, his free hand coming to rest on your elbow.

“People not trying to get drugged and raped, weirdo. Fuck off!” You shoved him back harshly by the chest, the open beer splashing a little onto his red shirt.

He looked like he couldn’t even bother to be upset by the action, an oblivious smile never leaving his face, “Okay, okay! Geez! I’m only trying to be friendly. No need to be a bitch.”

You rolled your eyes, the urge to lay this douchebag out here and now overwhelming. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction though, Clearly, he wasn’t in a right state of mind. It was no excuse for how he was acting but you didn’t want to get any more involved. The best thing to do was to probably find a security guard and just let them know you were 99% sure there was a guy trying to roofie you and get his ass thrown out.

When you didn’t respond, the guy got annoyed, thriving off the attention you were giving him. He reached out for your wrist when you moved a few feet away and your eyes immediately snapped to where his skin connected with yours. With a harsh snap of your wrist, you ripped it from his grip and shoved him with all your might, “Are you fucking stupid? I said fuck off!”

The guy stumbled back this time, almost falling to the ground but he caught himself. Again, he took a few steps towards you and this time you were ready to swing. Enough of trying to be nice. This guy had deserved to have his shit rocked a while back and you were ready to oblige.

Suddenly, a new guy stepped between the two of you, his large hand coming out to smack into the drugged out guy’s chest. “She said fuck off, buddy.” The British accent that left his lips surprised you and you stepped to the side to see the man who was standing up for you.

You couldn’t hear what the drugged out guy had said over the pounding music but you could see his mouth move. The new mystery man’s jaw clenched though at whatever the words were and in a second he had thrown his right fist straight into the guy’s face. The offending suspicious beer flew in the air, splattering all over your clothes.

You gasped in shock more than anything as the creep was on the ground being assaulted by this new British man. “Holy shit!” You exclaimed, stepping towards the brawling pair, trying to get your brain to work fast enough to think of something to do. Anything.

The last thing you wanted to do was help the creep but you also felt bad that this new guy had gotten involved, though it was entirely by his own volition. You were nearly standing over the pair, hands itching to pull the British man off but not quite wanting to. If anything, it was more for his own sake. You wanted to protect the man who had stepped up to be your knight in… black leather.

Before you actually made up your mind on what to do, the assaulting man had pulled back, grabbing the creep by his shirt and shoving him roughly towards the exit. “Come back and I’ll make sure you leave in a fucking ambulance.” He threatened menacingly, pointing a finger at him.

Everyone else in the surrounding area looked over at the guy, shouting profanities and pushing him out of the main floor having seen everything go down. The drugged out man had a busted eyebrow and his nose was bleeding. He sniffled a little before throwing two middle fingers in the new man’s direction. The new man to your left only snorted a little and returned the sentiment. When the bloodied loser took a step towards the pair of you again, a massive man with long wavy brown hair and a beard to match, looking like he listened exclusively to Slipknot and Metallica, put an impressively muscular arm out to stop him, shoving him back. No words needed to be exchanged. The bloody man knew he’d been beat. With a disgruntled look, he turned on his heel and left.

You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, heart pounding in your chest from the pure exhilaration. “Are you okay?” You gently touched the British man’s arm, grabbing his attention.

Your heart could have stopped when you actually got a good look at him. Not too tall but you could see his lean muscular frame beneath his loose black muscle tank top. Tattoos adorned almost every inch of skin you could see, covering his arms and torso. Relatively small black gauges stretched his lobes and small metal bars looped through his right eyebrow and the left side of his lower lip. It was difficult to see in the ever changing lights but you were pretty sure his hair was dark blue.

He nodded, pulling his black denim pants up over his hips after the fight. “I’m fine,” He shrugged off with a casual air, “What about you? Are you okay?”

You ran your fingers through your hair, still ever so slightly distressed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m alright. I just- thank you. You didn’t have to jump in like that.”

“He had it comin’. The dude was being a fuckin’ creep. Sorry you had to deal with it.” He responded coolly, watching as you sort of shrugged in response. Something told him this wasn’t the first time you’d been in an uncomfortable situation like this which made him feel sorry for you. “You here with anybody?”

“I came with my friend but she left a little bit ago. Thinks she has food poisoning or something. What about you?” You inquired, not noticing anyone around that seemed to be linked to him in any way.

He shook his head, “Nope. Just me. I’m Tom by the way.” Tom held his hand out, ink art trailing about halfway down the top of his hand.

You gripped it tightly and shook it, “Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, if you’re here alone too, I know I wouldn’t be opposed to adopting a concert buddy.” A cheeky smile appeared on his face that you just knew you couldn’t resist. You bit your lip as you laughed at his offer.

“I think I could use a concert buddy too.” You agreed, trying to conceal the extent of your excitement. This had to be a dream, the sort of thing that only happens in slumber and romance novels. You, a girl being nearly drugged by some freak at a concert and ready to drop his ass at a moment's notice. Tom, a man seeing a woman being harassed and stepping in. Now, the both of you finding unlikely friends and moshing the night away to your favorite music.

Tom, you’d learned, was a perfect gentleman. That was your favorite thing about people in the heavy metal community: they were either the nicest people you’d ever meet or the rudest. You were just grateful Tom had managed to fit in the former category.

By the time the concert had ended, you were walking together out to the parking lot, a huge smile on your face, “That was awesome! Ahhh, I needed this. Thank you for making tonight a lot less crappy. You were a great concert buddy.” You sighed out a breath of relief, walking around with loose arms and turning around to face him while you walked backwards a few steps.

He glanced over at you once he caught up close to you, “Yeah, I had a great time. I’m glad I could help turn the night around.” The pair of you stopped walking and you found yourselves just staring at each other in teenager-like adoration.

It had been a long time since Tom had ever actually been wowed by someone. His last girlfriend had cheated on him and he’d be lying if he’d said it hadn’t made him paranoid when it came to women. Months had passed since then, almost a year if he thought about it. Of course, he’d seen other beautiful women over that time but there was just something about you that made him willing to put himself out there again. There was a fire in your eye when he watched you shove the guy earlier and rear back, ready to knock him on his ass. At first, Tom’s attempt at valor was simply to help someone out but when he actually got the chance to see you and speak with you, he was captivated by the way the lights danced in your eyes and the way your laugh lit up the evening.

“Do you live in town?” You asked, looking up at him with big eyes.

He nodded, the few strands of his blue hair that hadn’t been slicked down by sweat from jumping around so much earlier bouncing around with his movement, “Yeah, ‘bout fifteen minutes from here. You?”

“Same here. Probably about twenty minutes that way.” You gestured up the road to your left and Tom glanced up that direction as well, as if he could actually see your apartment from this distance.

Tom rubbed the back of his neck, his biceps flexing impressively as he did so, and glanced at the ground before looking back up to you, “I had a really good time with you tonight and, uh, I was wondering if maybe you’d want to get lunch or something some time?”

His unsurety in his invitation was endearing and you couldn’t help but smile at the way his cheeks flushed red. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’d actually love to.”

“Really?” His eyes lit up and his lips curled upwards.

“Yeah, really.” You repeated, “I’m off tomorrow if you’re free?”

He thought for a moment, trying to remember his schedule, “I don’t have to go in till four so I can do lunch tomorrow.”

“It’s a date,” You finalize, watching as Tom, “Maybe I can get your number so we can actually figure out where we want to go?” You chuckle as you pull out your phone, unlocking it and handing it to him.

Tom takes your phone and taps in his number, his face illuminated in the night by the light of the screen. He hands it back to you and a screeching of old brakes grabs your attention. You whip your head around to see a bus pull up at a stop you hadn’t noticed across the street but you recognize the number quickly as one of the routes that stops near your house. You hadn’t intended on taking the bus but it would be a hell of a lot cheaper than an Uber. “Shit, I gotta go. I’m so sorry. But it’s been great and I’ll be sure to text you so we can get tomorrow figured out.”

You were already walking away, looking back and forth between the bus and Tom, suddenly stressed that you were having to leave him so soon. Tom watched you, putting together that you were suddenly freaking out about missing the bus. “You didn’t drive? Do you want a ride?”

“What? Oh, no. Really, it’s fine. You’ve already put yourself out enough for me tonight. But I’ll catch you tomorrow?” You insisted, watching as the last few people boarded the bus in slight panic.

“Please, let me give you a ride home. I’d feel better knowing you got home safe with me rather than riding the bus alone in the city in the middle of the night. I live that way anyways.” You sighed at his persistence, conflicted by his offer. On one hand, he was a stranger, even if you did spend the last few hours with him. On the other, he had fought a man on your behalf and then been nothing but kind to you all night. You even had a date set up with him tomorrow.

It was probably against better judgement to leave with him, clearly the stories of Ted Bundy’s victims not resonating enough with you, but you agreed, “Thank you.” You relented finally, following him when he took a few steps towards the parking garage. You trailed beside him on the trip to his car, arriving at the clean black sedan. He opened the door for you and waved his arm in a dramatic yet chivalrous gesture you couldn’t help but giggle at.

He closed the door beside you and, just for safety’s sake, you texted Lillia while Tom walked around the car towards the driver’s side. Getting a ride home from a new friend. If I die, his name is Tom and he drives a shiny black sedan. Maybe a Honda? Blue hair, tattoos, piercings. Beautiful and British. You genuinely didn’t believe you were really in any danger - if you did, you would never have gotten in the car - but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

You got a text back almost immediately from Lillia, a picture of her makeup-less pale face with a shocked slack jaw. Girl! WHAT?! He sounds hot! Don’t even bother coming home! (But fr if you die, I’ll let the cops know).

The door opened and Tom slid into the driver’s seat. The drive to your house was surprisingly comfortable considering the reality that you were still strangers. You talked about the basics of your lives. How old you were, what you did for a living, where you were from, things of that nature. You’d learned he was twenty-four, from a town near London, and currently working at a bar. He listened intently as you told the premise of your life. The conversation flowed naturally, as if you’d always been friends.

“This is it, right here.” You pointed out the window at your little house you were renting with Lillia. The porch light was on and both yours and her cars were parked out front. Tom pulled off against the curb, his headlights illuminating the otherwise dark street. “Thank you again. For everything.”

“If it takes getting in a fight for us to have met, it will have been worth it.” He confessed smoothly, loving the way you looked away shyly. It was the whole hearted truth though. While Tom hadn’t taken any real hits from the guy earlier, he gladly would have if it meant he got to spend the night with you.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” Your hand went to the door handle and pulled it, cracking the seal on the door.

Tom pulled his open as well and stepped out onto the street, “I’ll walk you up.” He insisted.

You were inwardly astounded as you watched Tom walk around the front of the car. Until tonight, you had been almost positive this level of gentlemanliness only existed in Hallmark movies and smutty romance novels written by fifty-year old women. Yet here Tom was, walking around like the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and pulling open the door for you.

“Coming?” He asked with a teasing tone, peeking down at you.

He stepped aside so you could exit the car and he shut the door behind you, walking you all the way to your front door and standing aside while you unlocked it. When the key finally turned, unlocking the mechanism, you spun to face him, wanting anything but to leave his side. It had been so long since you felt so immediately enamored by someone.

“Where have you been all my life?” You breathed out in astonishment, probably looking like a dumbstruck puppy but you couldn’t have cared less.

Tom chuckled, “Um, London? And then here?” He responded with the two obvious answers, knowing it wasn’t what you were looking to hear but loving the way you rolled your eyes at him.

“Well I hope I get to see more of you in my life.” Your eyes flicker up to meet his round chocolate ones. He’s so much more handsome than you ever could have imagined now that you could clearly see his face in the light.

You were both so close to each other that it was difficult to look anywhere but each other’s eyes. “I hope so too.” The tension in the air was growing thicker by the second and your own eyes flicked down to his perfect lips before back up to his eyes. “May I kiss you?” He asked, his voice low and husky.

You could only manage a small nod and a quiet whisper, “Yes…”

Your lips met in a gentle kiss- one that wasn’t full of passion or aggression. It wasn’t sloppy and full of teeth. It was slow, deep enough to be felt but chaste enough to leave more to be desired. He didn’t try to push you at all but he left you wanting more. The slight coolness from his snake bite added just another sensation to this already fantasy-like moment. Tom’s eyes slid closed as he tried to just lose himself in the feeling of your soft lips against his own.

You were speechless when you both finally pulled away, feeling like you were floating on cloud nine. How could something so pure and gentle feel like the most passionate magical thing you’d ever experienced?

“I’ll text you tomorrow.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke, nearly against your lips. As much as he didn’t want to leave you, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome or make you feel pressured into anything. He had never been one for casual sex as it was and the last he wanted was to make you feel as if you needed to give yourself to him tonight. He took a few steps back and tucked his hands in his pockets before turning away.

“When you get home!” You corrected as he took a few steps away.

Tom breathed out a small laugh, “When I get home.” He agreed, “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Tom.” You watched him walk back to his car and waved at him one final time as he got into the driver’s seat and drove off down the street.

#punk!Tom #tom holland #punk!tom imagine #Punk!tom x reader #punk!tom fluff #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #punk!tom holland #tom holland x you #punk fics #tom holland fic #tom holland fics #punk!tom edit

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seasami · 4 years ago

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Fanfiction Rec

Larry Fic Rec -- random fics cause I don’t categorize and I have no recollection of when I read them so I can’t name this [Month] fic rec BUT by the end of May I’ll do a May Favourites or smh like that cause I figured it’ll be best to sort by months from now on since im not a fic rec page -- just a fanfiction enthusiast.

NOTE: I”LL WORK ON FORM OF THOSE RECS I PROMISE IT WON’T LOOK THIS SCRATCHY NEXT TIME (and I’ll add authors although you can find them when you click the link) ALSO a word count maybe?

GIVE ME YOUR FEEDBACK

✰ i put star emoji next to my personal favs

ANYWAYS:

a house built out of stone

Summary: Louis has a used bookshop and Harry has a habit of claiming things that don't belong to him.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698268

Amazing Sin

Summary: Gears started turning in Louis’ head. Purely mischievous gears that had Louis formulating a revenge plan against Taylor. He’d had enough of sitting around and taking it. If she was going to call him a whore, then fine, he’ll act like one for real. “I’m going to say something, and as my friends you are obligated to love me anyway.”

“This can’t be good,” Niall said, Zayn just groaned.

“So I know we have this strict ‘no lashing back at Taylor’ rule with me, but what if I can get press revenge a different way?” Louis asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer, because they knew by now to just go with it. “What if I stole her boyfriend?”

Or, the story of Louis ‘Steal Your Man’ Tomlinson.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133700?view_full_work=true

be with you day and night

Summary: “Maybe not,” Ed pipes up. “This sounds weird but I have a friend who might be able to help you.”

“Is it a priest? I think an exorcism is the only option here, mate.”

“Right, so like, remember my kitten Graham?” At everyone’s nods, he continues, “Well when I got him he was a bit of a prick. He was just scared, but he wasn’t very pleasant to be around. So my friend Harry comes around one day to hang out and he just, like, bonds with him. After an hour he had him snuggling in his lap. He’s going to school to be a vet I think, and he volunteers in an animal shelter so he’s got lots of experience I guess. But anyway, he developed a bit of a reputation after that and now everyone calls him the Cat Whisperer.”

“You have a friend everyone calls the Cat Whisperer,” Louis says, “And you’ve neglected to tell me this until now.”

[louis inherits a demon cat. harry is a cat whisperer.]

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3402962

Buried Like Treasure ✰

Summary: Prince Harry Styles is very private. He chooses to keep himself out of the public eye but feels lonely and isolated while surrounded by people in his hectic royal life. When he finishes his dissertation, he decides to take a solo holiday to one of the royal family's properties in the Swiss Alps.

Semi-retired thief Louis Tomlinson has been pulled in for one last job: steal a painting from an uninhabited mansion. Neither one of them expects a natural disaster.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900422/chapters/31988364

I’d Still Dance With You

Summary: “Liam, if you met someone that you really liked, would age matter?” Louis asked.

“I suppose so; to a point, anyway.”

“Like, how young would you go?”

Liam thought it over. “Uh… I don’t know. Like, 24?”

Louis groaned and dropped his head in his hands.

“Why? How old is this guy you like?”

“Twenty-one,” Louis muttered.

“Hang on. He’s 21, and you’re… what? Twenty-eight?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. Um… well, OK. That’s a, uh, that’s a gap.”

---

Or, the 21/28 age difference fic where Harry is younger than Louis thought he was, and even though Louis’ head is telling him not to pursue anything, his heart doesn’t seem to agree.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14007420?view_full_work=true

Like and Endless Summer ✰

Summary: “You just wanna go fawn over Styles as soon as possible,” Zayn grumbles.

“I do not. Plus, he probably got ugly this year. Eighteen is an awkward time...I bet he’s got acne and one of those terrible fuckboy haircuts all the hipsters are getting these days, with the shaved sides? Just watch, the first year we’re gonna get any time together is gonna be the first year I don’t have a stupid crush on him.”

---

Or, Louis is a riding instructor at a summer camp, and Harry is a fellow counselor who he’s been successfully managing his crush on for the last two summers. That is, until Harry shows up this year leveled up and lethal, and all Louis’s formerly perfected veneer of nonchalance melts like a popsicle in the sun.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365494/chapters/25442085

like cabbages and kings ✰

Summary: When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland. There were rabbits wearing waistcoats and talking cats and ridiculous tea parties, and amidst all the absurdity, there was a boy. A boy with dimples, big green eyes and the sweetest soul Louis has ever known. Louis has always kept a place in his heart for that boy and for his funny dreamworld, and when he’s twenty-five and his life falls apart, it turns out Wonderland might not be so imaginary after all.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623110?view_full_work=true

Mute

Summary: How is love supposed to speak, when one can’t even choke out the words?

Louis’ life was a joke through his witty words.

Harry’s life was a joke through his lack of words.

Louis was classed as a normal child; mentally and physically.

Harry was classed as an abnormal child; mentally and physically.

Louis could speak.

Harry could not.

Harry had progressive mutism.

Louis did not.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635935?view_full_work=true

The Moments When My Good Times Start to Fade

Summary: Where Harry is a flower child who works in a bakery and Louis is a guitarist who has no idea what it is he wants.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765148

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achlysmiseria · 3 years ago

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Chapter 1: =My First Day at a New School=

Being in a relationship with a serial killer kinda sucks. But before that, maybe I should start by introducing myself or something. I don’t know. There’s nothing special about me. My name is Perseus Alexander Moore. I’m an eighteen-year-old guy in his twelfth year and I’m distinctive in most groups but I’m not famous or rich or smart. I’m just those guys you normally see in school except I don’t exactly go as ‘normal’ since my hair is styled in an afro which makes it easy to distinguish in a group of people. This is the start of how I made the greatest mistake of my life.

Today I will be going to a new school. It had to be arranged since I moved into my older brother's place. If you’re wondering why, a big incident took place, which I have to live with my whole life but we’ll talk about that later. After changing into clothes for the day, I crept out of my room and went downstairs and the first thing I came upon was the sweet smell of pancakes and bacon filling my nose. My nose scrunched up which made me stop but not because of the smell, but because of the person right in front of me.

Eric Ulysses Moore, my big brother. He’s a successful hematologist oncologist here in this small city of Asheville, North Carolina. He’s got the same curly brown locks as mine except it’s not long or styled informally. We both look somewhat alike but since he’s blessed with our dad’s genes, who is a tall man, he has much darker skin than me and I was told he was taller than me when he was my age.

While my brother cooked breakfast and I’m standing at the kitchen door, I felt like I should just tiptoe out of there but he turned and saw me. “Good morning, Perseus,” he greeted with a smile. “Had a good night’s sleep?”

“Yeah,” I blandly replied. “I also have to go. I might be running late.”

“School doesn’t start at seven-thirty. Eat something first.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said but of course, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He served a plate and pointed his eyes to the vacant chair, gesturing I should sit down.

“Look,” my voice was leveled. “I don’t want to deal with you right now. I have to get going.”

“Perseus,” he called back. I ignored him and ran out the door. I brought out my earphones and plugged them in my ears, momentarily escaping from this hell called reality. I grabbed my skateboard and I skated through the busy streets.

Normally, my mom would kill me if I did this. My mind being preoccupied with the music playing, words popping up in my head for lyrics, guitar chords I could possibly use for a song I’m writing while I pass busy streets, small comments in my head about the places I pass will definitely make her want my head.

The trip would have been really quick if I hadn't had to go through so many huge groups of people hurrying to their destinations and most of them are too oblivious to notice what’s around them.

Once I reached the gates of the school, I was somehow —what’s the appropriate word— disappointed.

Right in front of me could have been a grand building but the gate alone is covered in graffiti and the paint is tearing off. The building itself looks like it’s about to collapse, given a few years or even less. You might even think it’s haunted. Students filed into the entrance and it gave me second thoughts. What if I just skipped school today? I thought it would be nice. I could just go home and go back to sleep but then, I have to deal with Eric. And to think of the possible scenarios when I enter these gates: probably new friends, or more jerks who are looking for trouble. I swallowed the anxiousness and the excitement growing in me and I walked in.

Entering the building, I felt like I was a kitten that trespassed a lions’ den. In the hallway, everybody turned their head towards me and I tried my best to stay passive.

Luckily, when I got enrolled here, they gave me my schedule and the room numbers so I didn’t have to ask around. I reached the room for my first class, which is Conservatory of Music. Then I noticed there was this note taped on the glass window of the door. It said: Class will be in the Music Room. I raised an eyebrow. Music Room, I thought. I looked down at the paper I had in my hand and scanned it. It didn’t have any directions for the room. I buried the annoyance that’s building up in me and looked around just in case no one could see how stupid I look and with my luck, I found three guys walking in my direction. The guy on the right had copper-red hair, freckles across his cheeks and nose, and a mischievous grin on his face and is probably one of the people I will never trust my life with when handling matches or sharp objects. The one on the middle had emo/scene slick black hair and it was long on one side so it hid his face. He looked reserved at first glance since he had his head lowered and even if his friend on the right had his arm locked on his neck, he didn’t complain. The one on the left took me aback. I was looking at a much younger clone of Brandon Routh when he played Clark Kent or Superman. He’s this tall guy with glasses, shiny black hair swept to the side, and a jacket. His facial features are almost perfect and I don’t think his face is familiar to acne or a single pimple. The guy on the right saw me. His hazel-green eyes shone and his grin widened. “Hey,” he waved. “You must be new.”

“I am,” I had to keep a straight face. The redhead kept smiling but when he faced the note on the door, he frowned. “Damn,” he snapped his fingers. He faced his friend and yelled to them, “Upstairs, guys. Prof switched rooms.”

“I told you he would,” said the guy with the glasses. The ginger raised his hands in defeat but still cracked a smirk. “At least we found this guy,” he gestured his hands to me. “If we didn’t think to check this room, he would be late than we already were.”

“Yeah, yeah shut up, Michael.” The other two faced me and studied me from head to toe. Superman said, “You were lucky. This campus is huge.”

“That’s what she said,” the guy named Michael snorted, which earned him a smack on the back of the head, “You’re so mean, Xavier.”

“And you’re being an idiot,” replied Xavier, who had a more Asian look than everybody else I've seen.

I felt inept. I’m standing in the middle of a playful conversation of strangers I just met and they didn’t really mind me there. Or how late we were.

“Hey,” I spoke up. “Aren’t we supposed to get to class?” The three of them stared at each other then realized it with a start. Some of them cursed and then we ran to the Music Room.

Fortunately, we reached class before the professor arrived. The place was huge and I think we were more than fifty students here. We were going to be seated on the floor and our bags were piled onto each other at the back. But what’s enticing are the instruments in front of us. I was tempted to grab a guitar and run but the professor finally entered the room. Before I could look around for a place to sit, someone already grabbed my hand and pulled me down.

“Sorry,” said Clark Kent. “I didn’t get to introduce myself. I’m Nicholas Taylor but call me Nick.”

“I’m Perseus Moore,” we held out each other’s hand and shook it. Behind Nick, Michael’s head popped out and he beamed. “I’m Michael Johnathan Carter. Most people call me Michael or Mike. You pick. I don’t care.” We shook hands and I faced their other friend.

“I’m Xavier Hernandez,” he said politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Perseus.”

“Yeah,” I tried to smile. They seem nice, I thought to myself. We started talking in our small circle and then Nick asked, “Do you play any instruments?”

“I play guitar,” I replied. Michael’s grin got even wider if that was possible and then he scooted near me. “What songs can you play?”

“Erm,” I moved a bit farther from him but I was saved when the professor got our attention. He’s a guy that looked like he was supposed to go to a Rock concert but got lost and ended up in a classroom full of teenagers. Instead of the usual teachers’ uniform, he wore this black band shirt of Korn, had a few piercings on his lips and eyebrow, plus tattoos all over his arms. “Good morning class,” he greeted. I thought we would respond with the habitual bland greeting but the place roared with excitement. Everyone was just yelling at the top of their lungs so the teacher had to silence us. “After a summer break, you all are still very loud.”

“We love you, Sir Ramirez!” Michael yelled and it just ignited another round of cheers. Again, we were silenced but I’m surprised one finger from the teacher made everyone quiet.

“I am also glad to see you all again. Most of you have moved up which is great,” Sir Ramirez congratulated us. “I was also informed that we have a new student joining us. Where is he?”

I just sat there, not planning to do anything for anyone to catch my attention but Michael grabbed my arm and raised it for me. Quickly, I yanked it away and glared at him. “Thank you, Michael. Now, please come up front.” The first thing I thought was, What is this? Grade school? But I obeyed and walked over to his side. “Introduce yourself.”

“Hi,” I started, I could feel my palms starting to sweat. “I’m Perseus Moore.”

“Do you play any instruments, Perseus, or are you just here to learn a thing or two?”

“I can play.”

“Awesome,” Sir Ramirez clapped his hands. Everyone started muttering to themselves and I didn’t like it at first until the prof asked, “What instrument do you play?”

“Guitar, sir.”

He smiled and walked over to the corner where the pile of goodies are and picked up a maroon Gibson SG then handed it over. My eyes widened at the guitar and I looked up at him for confirmation. “Give us a show, Perseus.” He signaled me to start and with barely any practice for the past month, I played Thunderstruck by AC/DC. The students went wild and I think everyone on this floor, and possibly the one under and the one above us, could hear them singing the song.

Sir Ramirez raised his hand to stop me in the middle of the song and I did. Everyone had this look on their faces which I can’t comprehend and my heart was pounding against my ribs. “So,” the professor starts. There wasn’t that much emotion shown on his face and I wasn’t comfortable with that. “I can’t tell you how much I’m impressed.”

“You are?” I blinked. “I mean, thank you, sir.”

“Of course I am. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone with this much grit and how much the whole class enjoyed it.” Then everyone started screaming like their favorite basketball team won. Makes me wonder how their voices haven’t cracked yet. I would never last that long. When they settled, Sir Ramirez clapped his hands and everyone joined him. With an awkward smile and my pulse beating in my throat, I bowed. Nick and the others cheered and they were joined by everyone else. When I got back to my seat, class started and at that point, I happily thought that this was going so well so far. Boy, was I wrong.

After three classes, it was finally our Lunch Break. I hated the other classes since the teachers after Conservatory were snobby, nosy, and irritating as hell. They lose their cool easily. I’m only grateful that Nick, Michael, and Xavier will be in the same classes as me since they’re the only people I know.

While we were walking to the cafeteria, Nick said, “You were great back there.”

“Thanks,” I tried to sound more confident than I am.

“Wanna join our band?” Michael smiled. “We’re missing a lead guitarist. And you don’t seem to be part of anything yet.”

“You’re recruiting me?”

“Of course,” he placed his hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been talking about it. You in? Please say you are.”

“Stop that, Michael,�� Xavier spoke up. “You know we have to talk to Morpheus first about this.”

“Who?” I turned to him.

“He’s our band leader and frontman,” Nick replied. “The guy’s awesome and super chill. He would love to meet you. But we need to know if you want to join us as well or otherwise, he’d think that we forced you to.” Then I heard Michael comment, “What is this? A cult?” Xavier flicked his fingers in the middle of his friend’s forehead and it made a sound, probably shaking his skull. Watching them alone, being whoever they are, saying whatever they want and their closeness to each other makes me think about their offer. I faced Nick who had an expectant look on his face. “I’m in.”

We reached the school’s outdoor covered court. It’s after passing the cafeteria. I’m telling you now that this is the only place that’s pleasant in the whole school. Instead of seeing trash littered everywhere, the court was clean and there were trees aligned on the side of it. Under one of the trees, there was this Blond holding an acoustic guitar. Michael ran to him and gave him a tackle-hug.

“What the hell, Michael?” He exclaimed as the others just laughed out loud. They sat up again and the redhead tugged on the guy’s sleeve. “We found a lead guitarist, Morph.”

“Hi?” I waved. The Morpheus guy studied me with his sky blue eyes and frowned a bit. He stood up and I realized he’s way taller than Nick which only made me anxious about my height. Gee, thanks. He circled me, like a lion studying its helpless prey. Morpheus turned to his bandmates and asked why I should be in the band. They explained it to him with enthusiasm while I just stood there not even getting why he’s asking them instead of me.

“So,” the tall blond turned to me. “I see that you got yourself some fans now.” Looking over his shoulder, Nick and Michael had huge grins on their faces, excitedly waving their hands while Xavier is also smiling but not like the other two. My eyes went back to Morpheus and I shrugged. “I never meant to. They just asked me to play.”

“Can you perform in front of something bigger than a bunch of students in one room?”

I could’ve answered him with an eager ‘Yes’ but in the pit of my stomach, my anxiety starts poking me. Morpheus patiently waited for my answer while I thought, A bigger crowd? That would be awesome but if I’m not good enough… Then what? I mentally slapped myself in the face. I looked up to him and said, “Even if it doesn’t take me anywhere, I can.”

Morpheus gave that a thought which lasted longer than I wanted to. My friends had their fingers crossed and I quietly hoped I would get accepted. Morpheus’ lips slowly curled into a smile and happily said, “You’re in.” Then they started clapping their hands. Michael locked his arm around my neck and yelled, “Finally! Someone decent enough to play for our band.” That comment got him a smack on the head and he just laughed it off. Xavier ruffled my curly hair and spread his arms out. “Welcome aboard Erebos.”

“Erebos?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah,” Nick said. “A friend named the band. She said that it’s the name of the primordial darkness in Greek mythology or something like that.”

Just then, their faces lightened up. I followed wherever they were looking at and found something I wasn’t expecting. Walking towards us was a girl with straight hair as dark as midnight, autumn tanned skin and she had a gray jacket wrapped around her waist since the school uniform for girls had short skirts. Michael ran over to her and held his hand out for a high-five. “Hey, Babycakes!”

Babycakes?

She scowled and pointed a finger at him. “How many times do I have to tell you to never call me that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Michael tries to imitate her British accent. “Did I touch a nerve?”

“You always do.” She crossed her arms and her eyes found me. I flinched, probably because I’ve been staring at her for too long, looking stupid, and got caught. Nick saved me though. He placed a hand on my shoulder and told the girl, “I’d like to introduce you to our new lead guitarist, Perseus Moore!”

“Perseus?” She raised an eyebrow. She studied me from head to toe and as I watched her, I noticed her eyes were gray. They remind me of fierce storm clouds or bones when reduced to ash. My heart started thundering against my chest when her eyes met my golden brown ones. She then looked up at my hair and asked, “Is that natural or are you just looking for attention?”

“What?”

“Your hair. And your eyes? You’re not wearing contacts, are you?”

“I could say the same to you,” I commented. A shadow of irritation passed over her face and then I realized my mistake. Morpheus cleared his throat and got her attention. “You’re not going to tear his face off, are you, Kass?” Xavier spoke up. She faced him and cracked a smirk, leaving me wanting to melt into a puddle for some reason. “I don’t have a reason to,” she faced me and held out her hand. “I’m Kassandra Cyrillus. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I shook her hand. “I could say the same thing.”

“Not when you really know what you’re talking to,” I heard her mutter. That took me aback. What is she talking about? I faced Nick who looked somewhat nervous when she said that and when I looked back at Kassandra, she still had the same expression except I recognized the look on her face. Like, she had the face of someone who got away with murder which is stupid because that’s impossible. Or was it?

“Now, now, Kassandra,” Michael interrupted my train of thought. “Stop scaring away the new guy.” She gave him a look which made him raise his hands in defeat and then she faced me. “You all have the same subjects later on, right?”

“Yeah,” we replied in unison. She didn’t give any reaction but handed Morph a bag. “I’ll see you all later then,” she looks over her shoulder a bit and walks away. When she was finally out of our sight, I turned to my bandmates who were looking at the bag. When they opened it, it was filled with snacks and a big pack of potato chips. They all had an evil grin on their faces and they closed the bag again. “It’s cool how she could smuggle some junk food here in school.”

“She must’ve paid the school guard to let her in,” Nick joked. My eyebrows arched. The image of Kassandra burned in the back of my mind and I can’t help notice how she looked so innocently malevolent. Two words I never thought would fit together. Morpheus saw how confused I was and placed his hand on my shoulder. “You look lost.”

“I don’t understand how things go around here,” I said with genuine honesty. “Is it just me or is Kassandra plotting something evil?” They looked at each other which is concerning for me like it’s a tough subject they don’t want to tackle. “Did I say something wrong?”

Nick snaked his arm around my shoulder. “Nah, dude. It’s just that, Kassandra had this reputation here at school, so it tends to make her judge and mistrust people she meets at first glance. Be a little patient with her. She’s actually a great person to be with,” he smiled. With that, the school bell rings for our upcoming classes. We walked to our classroom and went on with our day.

Finally, school was about to end. I just had to end this last class: Literature. My bandmates were left behind since they said they needed to talk to our Math teacher. When I reached the door of the classroom, I expected a bunch of students sticking their noses in books but instead, I found most of my classmates were off their seats, just being chaotic as usual.

“You’ll get used to it,” said a familiar voice behind me. When I turned around, I found Kassandra. She had a black backpack slung on one shoulder and the strap had a metal pin of a badly drawn smiley face with X’s for eyes and it had its tongue stuck out, the logo of the Grunge band Nirvana. “Nice pin,” I complimented. “Somehow matches your personality.”

“Don’t flatter me, Perseus,” her voice laced with bitter sarcasm. “And if you want small talk, I suggest we go inside and sit down. Unless you want to block the door, I’m not joining you.”

I stepped aside and let her in first and muttered, “Sorry.” Following her to the back of the classroom, I sat on the vacant chair beside her. There were more vacant seats other than this but I just felt like I needed to sit next to somebody I at least know if I get called. Now and then, I would steal glances of her just to see her doodling on her notebook. Well, I just think she’s doodling. The first thing that caught my attention was that she’s writing in Greek? Second thing I noticed were the symbols Aδης. What do they mean? Like I know. I wanted to ask her but everyone started to make a commotion when Michael entered the room.

Kassandra let out a soft laugh when she saw her friend being flirty with the girls who were head over heels for him. “Always a tosser,” she muttered and closed her notebook. “Then these girls would fall for every banter. Can you believe that?”

I realized she was talking to me so I answered, “Er, yeah. They’re being a little too extra.”

“Michael’s always extra,” she shrugs. I then noticed her lips were curled up into a small smile and I kind of felt good about that. She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” I looked in the other direction. When they were seated, the professor entered the room. He’s a pudgy man with a scowl on his face and has more hair on his chin than on his head. I could hear a lot of the students around us snickering and then they all burst out laughing when the teacher sat on his seat. Confused, he tries standing up and then realizes the problem. “You insufferable brats!” He yelled at us. When he tried to walk out of his desk, everyone was laughing except for me and Kassandra since the chair was stuck to the man’s rear-end. I mean, it’s literally glued to his butt. Honestly, it’s an old trick in the book but I think getting someone to do it right in front of you makes it funny. He started yelling things I don’t think would get him a promotion, or probably let him keep his job. Nonetheless, we continued class while the professor was seated, and ever so often, you will hear giggles when he tries standing up.

“Now,” he pats a stack of papers on his desk. “This will be your homework for two weeks. Read it carefully and I don’t want anyone submitting anything stupid, understood?”

Everyone jeered and groaned. Kassandra and I stayed silent then I glanced at her just to find her reading a book under her desk. As the papers were being distributed, the professor said, “You all will be partnered” —everyone cheered— “by the person beside you.” The excitement died and it just made him smile smugly. The school bell rang for dismissal and everyone quickly raced to the door.

“Wait,” I looked at my seatmate. “Who am I partnered with?” We stared at each other. It seemed like time suddenly stopped for some reason. Our eyes locked and I don’t know how, but I could see this shadow behind her gray orbs. What could it be? A weird gut feeling tells me that this person in front of me was someone… someone who you shouldn’t get on their bad side or you’re screwed. Kassandra smiled and answered, “I suppose you’re stuck with me, Phrixus.”

#=PLMR=#original story #chapter 1 #novel series #novel #romance #music #greek mythology #angst #teen author #rock music #book 1 #band mentions #author #2000s feels

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spartanguard · 5 years ago

Text

babyfaced

Summary: A bet gone awry forces Killian to get rid of his beard for a month. going beardless makes him look significantly younger; but the clock turns back on more than just his face. | rated T; 2.2k words

dedicated to @xpumpkindumplingx who told me to “do the thing” and @thesschesthair because this is either up her alley or the exact opposite of it.

A/N: just a bit of a crack fic inspired by this post (and the fact that Colin O’Donoghue is a freaking baby face when he shaves), but plus magic—because it’s Storybrooke and we can. header image taken by @lillpon.

Killian sighed heavily and stared at himself in the mirror, committing his face to memory. He ran a hand over his well-maintained scruff, relishing the feel of it against his palm for the last time for the foreseeable future.

“C’mon, Killian—it’s just a shave,” David shouted from outside the restroom at Granny’s.

It was a stupid bet, which of course Killian, in all his cocky arrogance, had taken Dave up on. And it was just his dumb luck that David would have the best darts game of his life and Killian his worst.

So now Killian had to shave off his beard and remain bare-faced for a month. (A month that was typically biting cold and he was always grateful for the bit of a barrier his beard provided.) He hadn’t gone without a beard since...well, not since he was capable of growing one. And there was a reason for that.

But he was nothing if not a man of his word, so with one last caress of his beloved stubble, he picked up the shaving implements he’d been provided with and set to work.

Although he had to send a disparaging glare at the can of shaving foam, labeled as Baby Face Shaving Cream. It was already mocking him. But at least Granny kept straight blades on hand, so he was able to complete the task at hand with some familiarity—even if it meant the result staring back at him was anything but.

Head hung down, he finally emerged from the lavatory to his waiting father-in-law. He could already hear David snickering.

“What, trying to hide? Come on—give me the full view.”

Killian gripped the can of shaving cream so hard he thought it might burst as he huffed and shifted his weight between his feet. “Must I?”

“Unless you plan on looking at the ground for the next month, then yeah.”

Best just get it over with. “Fine.” And he lifted his head to look David straight in the eyes.

It was simultaneously amusing and embarrassing the way Dave’s eyes grew wide at the sight. “Wow, you weren’t kidding—you really do look 10 years younger. Or a hundred and ten, or whatever.”

“No, I wasn’t. So please get all your infant jokes out now.”

David gave all he could in that department on the short walk back to the dining area, and had wrapped them up by the time Killian slumped into the booth next to Emma. He was back to trying to hide his chin and keenly felt the sensation of all eyes being on him, which just made him want to melt into the vinyl cushions even more.

As much as could be said for his leather jackets and kohl, that beard was part of the armor he used against the world, in addition to helping give him a commanding appearance. Without it, he felt much like a lost youth again, and oddly naked.

But then Emma’s hand was on his (very smooth) cheek, turning his face towards her. He heard her hitch her breath and that drew his attention, finally forcing him to look back up. She was studying him intently, and brushing the back of her fingers across his bare skin. Her brow was furrowed and to his surprise, he couldn’t tell why.

“Is it alright, love?” he asked quietly; if she hated it, then the deal with Dave was off.

But then a smirk took over her features. “It’s adorable,” she gushed, much to his consternation; he hung his head yet again. “No, Killian—come on,” she protested, and pulled his chin back up. “It’s different, but a good kind—it’s like seeing you in high school or something.”

“See? I look like a teenager. This is ridiculous.”

“I think you look very sweet, Killian,” Snow said from the other side of the booth, but that didn’t help much.

“Exactly,” Emma agreed. “You are a softie, Killian Jones, and for once, you look like it.”

He did have to admit: the way Emma couldn’t keep her hands off his face did have a perk, and she seemed to enjoy peppering his smooth cheeks with kisses (he also conceded that it felt nice to have her lips right against his skin). But the stares and smirks from everyone else meant it was going to be a long, long month.

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

With the way his facial hair grew, he had to shave at least twice a week to maintain a satisfactory level of clean shaven-ness. Granny had let him keep the shaving cream they’d found at the bed & breakfast, even though she herself wasn’t sure how long it’d been there. At least it had a nice, clean scent, and seemed to take decent care of his skin, if the way Emma continued to caress his face each morning was anything to go by.

Although one day, a week or so later, she did narrow her gaze on him. “Have you been using my eye cream?” she asked.

“No; just the normal facial moisturizer,” he answered.

“Huh; must be something in that shaving cream, then, because your crows’ feet aren’t as deep.”

He shrugged; he knew there were plenty of ways of reducing the appearance of age in this realm with proper skin care, so it was to be assumed that once he started doing the same, it might have some affect. “I’m sure it’s only temporary, then, as you give me abundant reasons to smile every day.”

She just grinned and kissed him.

He did notice, though, that as time went on, his beard didn’t seem to fill in as much as it used to. It was mildly concerning, but he figured it just had to do with the fact that he was starting over from square one every time it began to regrow; once the month was up, it would return to its normal level of thickness.

A couple weeks in, he wondered if he might even be shaving too often, when red bumps began to appear on his chin; it reminded him of the zits he would get in his adolescence. God, he would probably blend in with the high schoolers, between the lack of beard and appearance of acne. At least he had his chest hair to rely on.

But—was it just him, or was that looking a little thin, too?

Perhaps he was just seeing things. Perhaps he was just tired, too—he found himself feeling rather...vigorous lately, which had led to some late nights with Emma. (Several.) Usually, she was the insatiable one, calling him “old man” and other teasing endearments, but for once, he had more stamina than her.

“You’re not taking Viagra or anything, are you?” she asked, breathless, one night.

“Taking what?”

“Never mind.” (Even if she didn’t have another round in her, she still couldn’t keep her hands from his chin. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.)

With the extra energy in his system, he started to spend more time on his ship, and even took up running. It was giving him a leanness he hadn’t had since he was a lanky lad, and did lead to some oddly timed naps, but mostly just left him hungry.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Emma asked after he polished off far more of a pizza than he normally did.

“Aye, love—perfectly fine,” he assured her, though her worry was causing the same in him. “Why?”

“I don’t know; it’s like...with your face looking so much younger, all of you seems to be a little younger.”

His brow furrowed at that—but at the same time, he knew it was fairly impossible.

Still, the idea lingered, as well as the sense that he’d somehow disappointed Emma. He found his mood changing on a dime during the last week of the terms of the bet, at times feeling depressed and lonely, and daring and joyous at others. It nearly gave him whiplash.

He sought once to calm his nerves in a glass of rum but, oddly, couldn’t stomach it like he used to.

It was while having a conversation with Emma and David at the station and his voice cracked that he finally realized something was amiss.

“God, you even sound like a pubescent teenager,” Dave teased, but Emma immediately became concerned.

“Okay, something weird is definitely going on,” she said, then came over to assess him. “Do you feel different anywhere? Did someone hit you with a spell or something?”

Suddenly feeling annoyed, he shrugged her off and stepped away. “Bloody hell, no! I don’t know what’s happening. I just know I’m emotional and have too much energy and it feels like everyone hates me and—”

He was cut off when Emma pulled him into a hug—quite possibly one of the best feeling hugs he’d ever had, and he immediately sank into it. “That better?”

“Aye,” he said into her shoulder.

“Sometimes, you just need a hug. It helps Henry.”

He rolled his eyes, but was glad she couldn’t see it. “Yeah, but you’re not my mum.”

“No; it still helps though.” She pulled away. “Can you stay here while I go check something? Make yourself a cocoa, okay?”

“Okay,” he muttered. She placed a peck on his cheek, gave her father an oddly angry look, then headed out.

“What was that about?” Dave wondered aloud.

Killian just shrugged. “I dunno. Want cocoa?”

“Sure.”

They shared a mug (Killian may have doubled up on cocoa packets in his) and were chilling on the couch when Emma returned, holding a vial. “What’s that?” he asked, standing, as she came in.

“Stand right there and don’t move,” she commanded. “Dad, come over by me.”

Both guys did as asked, and Emma popped the cork on the vial. Carefully, she put a tiny amount of the powder inside in her palm.

“Okay, brace yourself, Killian.”

“For what?” he complained, but it was too late: she’d blown the powder his way.

He winced when it hit him, then a tingling sensation took over his body, leaving him a bit sore—but somehow also feeling more normal than he had in weeks.

He blinked when the prickling feeling dissipated and looked back at his companions; Emma was smiling and David, for some reason, looked upset.

“Hey, it hasn’t been a full month yet!” he protested. Killian reached up to brush his hand along his jaw; his beard was back.

“What did you do, love?” he had to ask; he thought she liked him cleanshaven?

“I was right; you were literally aging backwards,” she said. “That shaving cream? Turns out it had some magic in it that turned back the clock. If you’d used it any more, you probably would have started to get shorter.”

“Bloody hell,” he cursed. “So I really was a teenager?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

David was looking very sheepish off to the side, especially when Emma leveled her gaze at him. “So thanks for putting my husband in high school, Dad.”

“Sorry!” he said quickly. “I had no idea; I just wanted to see what he’d look like.”

“Well, maybe next time, don’t put such a ridiculous time limit on your bets, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed, though the way he was curling in on himself let them know he was genuinely sorry.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go have my way with the MAN I married—not the BOY,” she said pointedly, grabbing Killian’s hand and leading him from the station. They didn’t pause to see David’s reaction, but it was easy to imagine.

“I’d say that was fair punishment, Swan,” Killian quipped as Emma led them down the street toward their house.

“Oh, definitely,” she giggled. “But I wasn’t kidding. I need to have you when we’re both on the same level.”

“I think I can handle that.”

(He couldn’t. Apparently, aging nearly 20 years in one day was draining.)

The next morning, he shuffled down to the kitchen to the smell of pancakes and bacon, and the sight of Emma cooking. He sidled up behind her, like he usually did, and buried his scruffy chin in the crook of her shoulder, tickling her and making her laugh.

“Still feeling okay?” she asked as she flipped the pancakes on the griddle.

“Aye; back to my old self. A fact that I don’t think I’ll ever take for granted.”

“Good.” She moved the pancakes off the pan and onto the plate, then turned off the stove. She turned in his embrace and quickly placed her hands on his cheeks, scratching through his scruff. “Mm, I missed that,” she hummed.

“Yeah? You seemed to have a thing for a clean face, too,” he replied.

She shrugged. “It had its novelty, definitely, and it was kind of nice to see what you looked like before life happened.” He swallowed; he hadn’t thought of that. He’d definitely seen pictures of Emma as a youth, but obviously, there weren’t any of him. “But now you look like the man I fell in love with again, so please don’t let any stupid bet or spell change that, okay?”

“I’ll do my best, love, as long as you do the same.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Actually, might I propose something else?” he added.

“What’s that?”

“I’d quite like to see what it’s like to grow old with you.”

Emma grinned, crinkling the skin by her eyes and around her mouth. “I would love that.”

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

thanks for reading! tagging some friends: @kat2609 @optomisticgirl @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @effulgentcolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot

#cs ff #my ff #cs crack fic #cs fluff #idek how to tag this

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raywritesthings · 5 years ago

Text

In Pursuit of Happiness

My Writing Fandom: The Flash Characters: Patty Spivot, Barry Allen, Iris West, Cisco Ramon Pairing: Patty Spivot/Barry Allen Summary: Regretting their breakup, Patty returns to Central City just in time for the second particle accelerator explosion. *Can be read on my FFN and AO3, links are in bio*

‘It was easier said than done’ never applied more than when it came to letting someone go. Patty was finding that out the hard way in Midway City.

Her bed felt empty. It was so ridiculous; they’d only started staying the night at each other’s homes about a month before the breakup. Or mutual leaving. Or… whatever it had been. Every lanky guy with brown hair looked like Barry from behind, and her heart would do this stupid leap up into her throat before he turned and she realized his jaw wasn’t right, his eyes didn’t sparkle with warmth and mischief, and he usually had bad acne anyway. Then her fellow student would keep walking to wherever he was going and the hollow feeling in her chest resumed.

It didn’t help that she knew for a fact Barry could show up here any time he wanted with no trouble at all. But he didn’t. Not that he had a reason to.

She knew she’d hurt him by going, and a little piece of her had wanted him to hurt. Had wanted him to know what it felt like to get shut out of something huge in his partner’s life. But that little vindictive streak had died out pretty much the minute he’d left the train. Now she just felt alone.

She hadn’t thought she was lying to him about the grad school. She’d sent in the applications months ago, just before they’d even met. Reading his reports had inspired her to go for her dream, for crying out loud! She’d always meant to tell him she was waiting to hear back, but then they’d been going on dates and it wasn’t really a good idea to tell a date you were possibly moving a few hundred miles away. And then they’d been together, and she’d known she should have brought it up, but then there were all these little things she felt like he wasn’t sharing with her — why he’d really been out sick that one week, what his nightmares were about. It wasn’t like she’d known it was because he was busy being a superhero!

She read articles about the Flash, now. Voraciously. Anything that was published. Was that stalking him? She decided no, because it was publicly available information. A well-informed citizenry was best for democracy, after all. Even if all she was informed on was forensic science and her ex-boyfriend.

She liked Iris’ articles best. They really gave the sense that there was a person, Barry, there under the mask. Probably because she knew. Patty didn’t begrudge her that; Iris was Barry’s best friend and Joe’s daughter, and Joe totally knew. He’d known a lot of stuff he wasn’t willing to share with her despite being her partner. Didn’t trust her, she guessed.

Had Barry just not trusted her? She understood him holding onto the truth at first, of course. Wouldn’t be good form for a superhero to go around revealing his secret identity to every person they met. But he’d said he loved her. Didn’t trust come with love?

Maybe Patty wasn’t worthy of either. After all, she’d proved his point, right? Up and left. At the time, she’d felt it was necessary. She didn’t want anyone to think they could go on just lie to her face over and over and she’d go along with it.

But maybe, maybe they could have talked things out more, explained how and why they were feeling. If she hadn’t thrown the grad school bomb into the middle of things, if Barry hadn’t clammed up… maybe it still would’ve ended this way, but who knew?

Patty kind of wanted to find out.

Her spring break was coming up. Patty still had the apartment back in Central — the lease was up next month, and she hadn’t wanted to pay the extra fee to break it. She could go back. She could go home. Just for a little while, anyway. She could see Barry, if he wanted to see her, and try and get to the root of their troubles, come up with some kind of compromise. Even if they just came out of it as friends, he’d been the best part of the last year or so of her life and she missed him.

So Patty booked a train ticket back to Central and spent the last week of classes in anticipation. And, as she kept reading articles, a bit of worry started to cool in the pit of her stomach as well.

The Flash didn’t seem as active of late. Supposedly he was still being glimpses around the city, but he wasn’t really stopping to chat or doing much of anything. Was he okay? Had he been hurt? Was it just all in her head?

Patty’s fingers drummed on her thigh the whole train ride. She thought about calling. Then she thought it was best not to give a guy with superspeed a head start on running away. What if he didn’t even pick up her call? What if he’d blocked her? She was scared to find out, so her phone stayed in her pocket.

Patty got into the city and dropped her duffel at the old apartment. She didn’t stick around long, still able to remember when that man had caught her unawares in her own home and the terror she’d felt waking up in that warehouse. It was important to find Barry anyway, before she lost her nerve.

She tried the precinct first, nodding to the desk sergeant when she walked in. “Hey, Spivot!”

She grinned as she entered the bullpen. “Vukovich, how’s it going?”

The older officer shrugged. “Same as usual. What’s brought you back?”

“University’s on a break. I wanted to see some people. Uh, Barry, for one.”

“He’s off for the afternoon,” Vukovich told her. “Hey, if you get that fancy degree, bring it back this way. We could use more than one smartie, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Patty said with a light laugh. She couldn’t help wondering what that might be like, working side-by-side with Barry — in his day job, even if he didn’t want her involved with Flash stuff.

A glance over at Joe’s desk showed he wasn’t in, either. Maybe they were having a family thing?

“Well, I should get going. Good seeing you.”

Patty debated with herself the whole way over to Joe’s if she should be dropping in unexpected. Her old partner had only just found out about his son right around when she’d left. Family time was probably important to them.

It turned out she needn’t have worried. There were no cars in the driveway when her taxi pulled up outside the house. No one was home.

“You need to go somewhere else?” Her driver asked.

“Uh…” if Barry wasn’t at work and wasn’t at home, did she have any hope of catching him running around out there in the streets?

Or she could wait for him where he went after he was done with Flash stuff. Patty has never been told, but it didn’t take a detective — former or otherwise — to know that Barry was incredibly close to the good folks at STAR Labs.

“STAR Laboratories, if you don’t mind.”

As they returned to downtown, Patty noticed a growing number of clouds in the sky. By the time they were turning down the road that led to the Labs, thunder was booming and lightning streaked overhead. She couldn’t help the growing feeling that something was about to happen.

“You sure you wanna go here, lady? This place gives me the creeps.”

Patty glanced away from the window at her driver and made up her mind. “You know what? I’ll get out here.” She paid him quickly and watched as he made a quick u-turn and sped off. Then Patty started walking towards the parking lot.

Though, as she approached, was there a person standing on the roof? She sped up to a jog, then a run.

“Hey!” She called out. “What do you think you’re doing?”

As she got closer, she could see it was Barry’s friend Cisco standing there, stretching his arm up high with some kind of metal rod in his hand. Patty’s emergency training kicked into gear and she barreled through the Labs. She had to get to the roof access door before Cisco found out why Ben Franklin’s friends had thought he was crazy flying a kite in a thunderstorm—

There was a great boom that rocked the whole building, and Patty stumbled as a strange yellow, crackling light swept down the corridor, knocking her off her feet.

Her eyes slipped shut as the energy seemed to rush all through her, a voice echoing in her ears. “Patty… Patty…”

“Barr...y?”

---

Barry had never realized just how much he’d needed to learn about the speed force until he was within it, literally talking to it. Having it assume the form of his mother had been toughest of all, and yet, he felt better for having heard her words, since the speed force had told them they were hers as well. He very nearly felt at peace in a way he hadn’t for a long time.

It had seemed like he was out of control for the longest time, the others constantly offering this or that advice making him question if he was really making his own choices or not. He knew they didn’t mean it that way — or most of them hadn’t. He still couldn’t shake the bitter regret from having listened to Harry about what to do regarding Patty, only to find out that the man had been working with Zoom behind all their backs. Only Jesse’s captivity at the time allowed Barry to forgive him, but the regret still sat in his heart.

Then there had been his Earth 2 counterpart, and Iris’. A year ago, he would have been over the moon to view a world where they were together. But, despite what Harry had thought, he knew that wasn’t really them. He could care about what happened to an Iris on any Earth while acknowledging that at home, they were not husband and wife. Even when a future newspaper said they someday would be.

But that future no longer existed, and Barry couldn’t help resenting the idea that a newspaper and another Earth had to be the things that prompted Iris to think about the possibility of being together. That it wasn’t him alone that could make her see him in that light.

He knew that was his fault. If he’d told her the truth when he’d first gotten his powers, maybe she would have seen him the way he’d always wanted, before she’d fallen completely in love with Eddie. And while Iris was learning to let Eddie go, Barry couldn’t shake his own guilt; he was the reason Eddie was dead, because he hadn’t been able to beat Thawne on his own. He couldn’t be happy with Iris while knowing that, exactly the way Thawne had predicted in his message from beyond the grave.

He’d been happy with Patty, but he hadn’t fought for her. He’d just let her walk out of his life.

Guys like him didn’t get the girl, Oliver had tried to tell him. Oliver, who himself was no longer engaged. But a relationship wasn’t the kind of life either of them were allowed to have. Speaking with the speed force, however, had given him a sense of purpose and a clear head, and these would have to be enough.

It was as he thought this that Barry was finally able to catch hold of the black blue he’d been chasing. As it solidified, it asked in a voice he instantly recognized, “Barry?”

“Patty?” He stepped back in shock. How was this possible? Was it just the speed force?

She turned around to face him, and his breath caught. He hadn’t forgotten her, but she was so much more beautiful in person than in memory. She met his eyes, and a smile lit up her whole face. “There you are.”

“What are you doing here?” She didn’t have the calm manner of the speed force, nor was she frantically calling out the way Cisco had.

Patty gave an easy shrug. “I don’t know where here is,” she said, looking around his old home. “But it’s nice. I wasn’t expecting a nice dream after I got knocked out.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“I don’t really know, but I don’t want to worry about it right now.” Patty walked up and wrapped him in a hug. “This is dream you, so we can just be, right? Don’t even have to apologize yet.”

“Apologize for what?” Barry asked, choosing to ignore for the moment that Patty was under the impression that he wasn’t real somehow. Definitely not the speed force. But then what was she? If she was the real Patty, then how?

“For leaving,” she muttered into his shoulder. Barry’s arms, which had landed loosely around her waist when he’d automatically returned her hug, tightened, although there was something strange to her. It was as if she wasn’t fully solid, wasn’t fully there. “I know why you felt like you couldn’t tell me. There was stuff I didn’t tell you, too. But I thought that was maybe changing at the art show, and then…”

“It didn’t,” he finished for her.

“I made the Midway decision without you because I was upset, and I’m sorry,” she told him, leaning back to look into his eyes. “I’ve really missed you, Barry.”

“I’ve missed you, too. It’s okay you were upset. I was gonna tell you, and then I backed out.” If he’d just listened to his heart instead of letting his fears get to him. He couldn’t let his fears control him, he had to let them go. Just like the speed force had shown him. “If I could do it all over again—”

“What if we could?”

Barry gave her a funny look. “What, you want me to go back in time and change it?”

“Okay, you saying that like it’s a possibility is super interesting,” Patty said. “But, no. I meant more like, what if we just started again? It’d be long distance, I guess, but we could call and text. Write letters for some dramatic effect. Even just as pen pals!”

“You’ve really thought this out.”

“I kept trying to come up with a speech or something on the train ride back, but this is much more helpful practice,” she explained, which left Barry even more confused. Patty really was talking as if she was the real deal. Not the speed force, not an illusion, but his Patty. And if what she said was real, he needed to get out of here.

Almost as if his very thought had summoned it, Cisco’s vortex reappeared. Though instead of Cisco, it was Iris who called out to him. “Barry! Come home!”

“Whoa!” Patty backed up this time in alarm. “What’s that?”

He looked from the Vortex back to Patty. “I have to go.”

Her face fell. “Okay.”

It wasn’t a trick to make him stay. Patty thought she was dreaming, and her dream had suddenly turned into a bad one thanks to him preparing to leave her. He didn’t want it to end like this.

“Barry!” Iris shouted again.

Barry looked back and extended his hand. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t how this was supposed to work. He had caught back up to Patty, and he wasn’t letting her go again. “Come with me.”

Patty nodded, reaching out. Her fingers twined through his own.

“Run, Barry. Run together,” the speed force said in his mother’s voice, and so Barry did run. To his surprise, Patty did right along with him.

Iris stood within the vortex, her hand reached out as far as she possibly could. He clasped hands with her and felt himself pulled through.

The next thing he knew, he was back in STAR Labs, the others embracing him in joy. Barry looked around, his left hand empty. “Where’s Patty?”

The others’ eyes all widened. “How’d you know?” Joe asked.

“I saw her. She was—” He turned around on the spot, feeling frantic. Had he left her behind after all?

“You can see her once we got Girder taken care of, dude. Promise,” Cisco told him. It was quickly relayed to him what had happened to Tony Woodward thanks to the second explosion, and Barry rushed to complete the task with the electromagnets to end the meta’s reanimated rampage.

His father insisted on checking him over after, and Harry was insistent on him seeing Jesse, who had been knocked into a coma like he had once been. Barry somehow knew what he needed to do to revive her, however, and she quickly awakened to the relief of her father.

At last, Cisco and Iris showed him the room they had placed Patty in.

“We don’t know when she got here or what happened, exactly,” Iris said. “But it was hard to move her.”

That was due to the electricity that seemed to crackle across the surface of her skin. Like before, Barry reached out with confidence. He felt a jolt rush through him, and it filled him with warmth and hope as Patty’s eyes flickered open.

“Barry?”

“Patty.” She had really come back. She really wanted to try again. It hadn’t been a dream. Barry day on the edge of her bed, drew her up from her prone position and hugged her. This time she felt truly solid, and he relished the feel of her in his arms again. “For the record, I would love to be your pen pal,” he murmured in her ear.

Barry felt her stiffen in his hold before she drew back with wide eyes. “How did you know I… and what happened? There was this light that hit me in the hallway and then that house and then — and Cisco! You’re okay!”

“Uh, yeah,” his friend said, confusion evident as Patty gasped at him.

“What were you doing on the roof in the middle of that crazy storm? You could’ve gotten killed!”

“It’s fine,” Barry interjected with a laugh. “He knew what he was doing. And it all worked out.”

“Maybe a little too well,” Iris noted. “Bear.” She nodded to Patty’s right hand where it rested on the bed covers. It was vibrating.

“Oh wow,” he breathed.

“How is this happening?” Patty asked in wonder as she held up her hand to stare at it.

“You were in the speed force with me. It must have forged a connection to you.” He hadn’t been imagining it when he left for the vortex with her; she had been running with him.

“I can’t make it stop,” Patty said, her amazement shifting to worry.

“Yes, you can. Patty, just focus.” Barry took her hand in his, watching as she worked to slow her breathing. Her hand stopped trembling in his and was still. “See?”

Her smile returned, tentative at first, then growing as he smiled back at her.

“Speedster couple. Awesome,” Cisco said. Iris bumped his shoulder and he quickly added, “Or not couple. Not trying to assume anything.”

“It’s okay,” Barry told his friends with a grin. Barry looked back at Patty, who nodded. “We’re ready this time.”

He leaned towards her, and Patty met him halfway in a kiss that sent sparks straight through him. It felt like they kissed for an eternity, but his heightened awareness of his speed told him it had only been a few short seconds for everyone else. These extra moments were something they could share together now, just the two of them.

With Patty at his side, literally and figuratively, Barry found he was no longer worried about what Zoom or any of his other enemies would do. He knew he and his team could handle it. In fact, he felt pretty close to invincible.

#spallen #patty spivot #barry allen #the flash #my writing

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riverboundao3ff · 4 years ago

Text

Riverbound, Chapter 1

Your name is MSPA READER, and you are currently vibing outside of the known multiverse.

Well, you don’t really use that name anymore, on account of it not actually being a name. Names sound something like Emily, or Muhammad, or Patrick, or Shamita, or a million other put-together syllables and sounds.

Names are something personal. A title is anything but.

You do have a new title, though, one you like much better.

The Guardian.

Because that’s what you became when you yoinked the timeline away from the control of Ultimate Dirk and that Director lady, whoever she was. You looked Canon-With-A-Capital-C in its ugly face, spit on it, and then bent over to wipe your ass with the fabric of reality itself. Out of desperation, love, and most importantly sheer spite, you took it upon yourself to defy fate so that there is at least one timeline where everybody gets to live happy lives. This was victory at its finest. This is what it felt like to finally get everything you wanted. Your friends? Safe. Multiverse? Secure. Hotel? Trivago.

In the vast and rich history of pro-gamer moves, you believe you might have made the most powerful move of all.

After using the Green Sun- no, sorry, the Green Sun to make your own timeline, you did what any other person would do and took a big fuckin’ snooze, curling up around your universe like a mama cat protecting her kittens. You earned it.

And, if you were being completely honest with yourself, that’s how you would have spent the rest of time.

It’s not like you didn’t want to live. No, living was good. It’s just… you were so damn tired. You’re tired of always running from place to place, person to person, era to era. You’re tired of being injured, scared, and alone no matter how many friends you made. All the gods of the Furthest Rings know you’d gone through more in like a year than most people go through during their entire lives. Couldn’t a bitch just enjoy eternity in the void?

Apparently not.

The dreams began innocently enough. Playing video games with Dave, John, and Karkat. Exploring Jade’s island with Jake and Bec. Baking with Jane. Kanaya teaching you and Sollux how to sew. FLARP-ing with Vriska.

Laying side-by-side with Roxy as you two watched the sun rise. Role-playing with Nepeta. Movie night with Eridan. Getting high off your ass with Gamzee and scaring the shit out of some teal visiting their kismesis a few hives away. Discussing politics with Feferi.

Escaping that hellhouse the Soleil twins called their home. Watching those eerie lights in the corpsefield beside Fozzer. You and Remele beating a purpleblood to death.

You barely realize how nightmares had invaded your mind until you woke up with Karako’s yowls of terror in your ears. You didn’t have ears anymore, though, or a physical form, so it just sounded like your favorite clown son was screaming all around you in the abyss.

Okay. This was fine. This was fine, you kept telling yourself. After everything that’s happened to you, you were bound to develop PTSD at some point. That was completely natural.

Except this wasn’t just PTSD. This was something else entirely, because even when you were awake you saw the faces of your oldest friends burning in your mind’s eye. Something churned in your gut, ancient and primal. It was a feeling you knew well, and was usually accompanied by you launching yourself into whatever stupid shit you found next. The longer you tried to ignore it, the stronger it became, until you were permanently wrapped up around yourself like the most pathetic ball of Guardian that had to have ever existed.

You knew long before you actually put words to what was going on.

Of course. Of course it wasn’t over, because why would you ever get to have anything for yourself? Why would you ever get to just rest? For the first time in… who even knows how long, you sob hysterically into the sleeves of your hoodie.

A galaxy twinkles in the outer shell of your universe, lighting up the zig-zag sign on your chest. Mallek’s lazy smile fills your thoughts. If at all possible, everything hurts even more, until you can’t even cry to let out the pain.

Did he miss you? Did all of them miss you?

Oh, God, Daraya. You promised her you’d take her to Earth sometime, and then you just totally fucking vanished from the face of Alternia. What a fucking dick move. Granted, you hadn’t meant to do it, but still!

Your traitor-asshole brain reminds you of the fact that all of them are dead now. As in, Tyzias tried to lead a rebellion against the Alternian Empire, and then they all got killed. Your traitor-asshole brain also notes that it’s all your fault for encouraging those kinds of ideas.

Way to go, you absolute tool.

Except… they don’t have to be gone. You are the Guardian of your universe, and you make the rules. It feels so wrong to even think about it, but… yeah. You’re basically a god now. You can do what you want and nobody has the power to stop you.

Which brings about a whole new plethora of fuckery. If you were to go back, if you were to rewrite history… are you any better than Ultimate Dirk? Granted, you’d do it out of love, not because you’re a power-hungry bastard, but still. Shenanigans of this level are not to be taken lightly, even by sad Guardians with absolutely nothing better to do.

You sleep on it, which of course results in you waking up bawling like a baby as you remember the best roleplay sesh of your life, which was when Wanshi proudly gave your Soldier Purrbeasts OC her full name: Twinklemoon. You had a Soldier Purrbeasts OC named Twinklemoon. That’s why you were crying.

That’s it. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You need advice, and you know exactly where to get it.

You find her on the 8rigantine, furiously scribbling something down on a chart with a bunch of little figurines in the middle of it. You know better than to just haul your little friendslut ass up there while Vriska Serket is in the zone, so instead you knock on the hull and call up to her.

“Hello! Lady Spinneret, an old friend is in dire need of some advice!”

It takes about two seconds for a familiar spiky head to poke over the side of the deck. Vriska’s one dark eye lights up upon meeting your gaze, followed by a toothy grin that’s both menacing and completely genuine. She reaches back to grab something behind her. A rope ladder drops down and nearly nails you in the noggin, just like it did whenever you dropped by to FLARP with her.

“What the hell, bitch! I missed you!” she yells. Despite everything, you can’t help but smile. Vriska’s wild personality and no-bullshit attitude was just what you needed.

You’re very proud of yourself when you scale the ladder with ease and scramble up onto the deck without getting too much out of breath. With the amount of insane shit you’ve gotten yourself into during your travels, getting into shape came pretty easily. You’ve been told by several reliable sources that your legs are to die for.

“The 8-ball foretold your arrival. I brought snacks.” Vriska points to a bag next to her chart, not looking up from where she was drawing an impressively detailed kraken-looking thing. “Eat something before you start gabbing.”

That was sound logic, so you drag the back closer to you and start rooting around for something good. You find a bag of stinkroot chips, open that bad boy up, and start munching. Damn, did it feel good to eat something, and to also have a corporeal body to eat things with.

As you gather your thoughts, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle with the sensation of somebody’s eyes on you. You instantly look up to see Vriska staring at you. Her expression is blank, but her good eye held all the energy of a thunderstorm.

You swallow your chips. “What is it?”

“You look… different,” she says, setting down her pencil. “It’s like I can really see you now.”

“Huh?”

Vriska huffs, but she still doesn’t take her eye off you. “Before, you kinda looked like… I dunno, like somebody cut out a whole in reality and shoved the silhouette of a person inside? Like, I know what you looked like, but I couldn’t tell you the color of your hair, or what facial structure you have, or, like… dude, you have freckles.”

“I have freckles?” You reach up and touch your cheekbone, feeling the soft skin. Oh, hey, there’s some acne. Dammit. “Are they cute?”

“Sure? I think freckles are more of a human thing, so you’d have to ask John or Jade or whatever. Also you’re blonde, like Rose,” she tells you, thoughtfully scratching at her chin. “You’re still short as fuck, though. I could probably punt you off the poop deck.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Congrats on not looking like a hole in reality.”

You finish off your chips and flop back to stare at the night sky. With all the time you’ve spent on Alternia, you can now name a lot of the constellations. Right now, the Empress’s Trident poked up at a forty-five degree angle behind the pink moon. “I think I know how we can overthrow the Alternian Empire.”

Vriska’s pencil falls out of her hand.

You continue. “Have you read any records on a rebellion that occurred about… like, fifteen sweeps ago? I don’t know the exact date.”

Vriska’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and then she nods. “I sure fuckin’ did. Sollux did some of his mumbo-jumbo and got me some documents. He called it an early wriggling day present, but I know he wants to help my little… agenda. How do you even know…?”

“Because I helped encourage the right people to do it. I was there, Vriska. Those kids were my friends, and now they’re dead.”

She’s silent for a moment. “The leader was a teal named Tyzias.”

Your eyes are hot with tears. “I knew her. We met because she tripped on the sidewalk while carrying a shitload of her homework, and I helped her pick it all up when it went everywhere. She had a matesprit named-”

“Stelsa,” Vriska mutters. “Holy shit. She worked closely with some jades who lead their little army. They caused a hell of a lot of damage to the Empire before it all went down, I’ll give them that.”

Neither of you speak for a long moment, which you appreciate as you try and hold your messy self together. The longer you think about your old friends and all the good times you had with them, the more you’re certain about what you want to do.

They deserve to be here.

Your blood pressure spikes just thinking about it.

It’s Vriska who puts your thoughts into words. “You want to go back and help them win the rebellion.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking crazy.”

“Yeah.”

She scooches over to you so she can stare down into your soul. “If we combine our resources and collaborate back and forth between the past and the future, we can make it so less people die. We could even take out that pathetic bitch of an Heiress they had back in the day. With your powers…”

“It’s possible I could compact time itself to create a world where we… where we can make things right. We could even help Feferi…”

You can’t bring yourself to say it in case you jinxed something, but by the look on Vriska’s face, she knows what you mean.

“It could work,” she breathes.

Slowly, you sit back up. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt it in your skull. “How do you think the others would feel about it?”

“Oh, they’d shit themselves,” Vriska snorts. “A full-scale rebellion across time and space?”

“True.”

“But it could work!” she repeats, staring into empty space.

“And they’d have a huge advantage they never had before. Me,” you say, talking to yourself more than to Vriska. You’d created this universe with your own power. It was time to protect it. “Vriska, I need to go before I chicken out. Tell the others what’s happening and that I’m sorry if this all goes to shit.”

“Wait!”

You look back at her as she grabs your arm, claws digging into the fabric of your hoodie. “I… you need supplies. No frickin’ way you’re going anywhere without at least a hydration flask.”

You know what she’s trying to say, and your chest fills up with all the warmth of a bonfire. God, you love this absolute bitch of a kid.

Vriska drags you to your feet, and then you’re both sprinting for her hive.

Amazingly, you don’t die trying to keep up with the cerulean as you charge up the stairs to her respiteblock together. You’re still out of breath by the time you reach the top, though, but Vriska’s already grabbing a backpack and tossing shit into it.

“Get me that jacket off the door,” she orders as she tosses in what looks like a small medical kit. You obey and throw her the jacket, the black leather one with the bright red hood.

She then waves you over, and you slip around her desk to see what’s up. In her hands is a black sheath, with a matching handle sticking out at the top.

Vriska pulls the sheath off to reveal the blade: a brilliant silver-blue metal that nearly glowed in the darkness. It’s incredibly beautiful and very scary to look at.

“I’ve had this thing forever, so I’m giving it to you, okay? Don’t fucking lose it. Press that little gray button at the top of the handle to heat up the blade. Good for starting fires and cauterizing wounds.” She shoves the jacket into the backpack and hands you the dagger.

“Vriska, I don’t know what to say,” you begin, but she smacks you.

“Shut up and strap it to your belt. You better come back soon. I want a detailed report on everything. Single-spaced,” she snaps.

You grin. “Yes, ma’am. I should be back, in like, ten nights. Maybe eleven.”

“Ten,” Vriska growls. “I’m coming for your ass otherwise.”

“Noted. Tell everybody I said hi.”

“Obviously.”

You reach into that little part of yourself, which in turn reaches back out into that chaotic river that is the flow of time. You throw the anchor down and wade upstream. It’s a little rougher than usual, but you won’t let that stop you. There was no turning back now.

Time travel is always like trying to hit a moving target, but you have great aim, and when you find what you’re looking for you feel your face split into another huge smile. There’s nothing different about this part of the river than any other, but you know. When it comes to the people you care about, you always know.

Everything feels more real to you than it has in years. Two moons shine even brighter in the sky, the chilly air stinging your face, and you’re no troll but it still feels like you’re going home.

You open your eyes.

“Ten nights,” you say to Vriska, and you let yourself fall through the current.

Your name is MSPA READER, and you are currently vibing outside of the known multiverse.

Names are something personal. A title is anything but.

You do have a new title, though, one you like much better.

The Guardian.

In the vast and rich history of pro-gamer moves, you believe you might have made the most powerful move of all.

And, if you were being completely honest with yourself, that’s how you would have spent the rest of time.

Apparently not.

Escaping that hellhouse the Soleil twins called their home. Watching those eerie lights in the corpsefield beside Fozzer. You and Remele beating a purpleblood to death.

Okay. This was fine. This was fine, you kept telling yourself. After everything that’s happened to you, you were bound to develop PTSD at some point. That was completely natural.

You knew long before you actually put words to what was going on.

Did he miss you? Did all of them miss you?

Way to go, you absolute tool.

That’s it. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You need advice, and you know exactly where to get it.

“Hello! Lady Spinneret, an old friend is in dire need of some advice!”

“What the hell, bitch! I missed you!” she yells. Despite everything, you can’t help but smile. Vriska’s wild personality and no-bullshit attitude was just what you needed.

You swallow your chips. “What is it?”

“You look… different,” she says, setting down her pencil. “It’s like I can really see you now.”

“Huh?”

“I have freckles?” You reach up and touch your cheekbone, feeling the soft skin. Oh, hey, there’s some acne. Dammit. “Are they cute?”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Congrats on not looking like a hole in reality.”

Vriska’s pencil falls out of her hand.

You continue. “Have you read any records on a rebellion that occurred about… like, fifteen sweeps ago? I don’t know the exact date.”

“Because I helped encourage the right people to do it. I was there, Vriska. Those kids were my friends, and now they’re dead.”

She’s silent for a moment. “The leader was a teal named Tyzias.”

They deserve to be here.

Your blood pressure spikes just thinking about it.

It’s Vriska who puts your thoughts into words. “You want to go back and help them win the rebellion.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking crazy.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s possible I could compact time itself to create a world where we�� where we can make things right. We could even help Feferi…”