#Fifteen year old me could never. I'm doing so good. My therapist is going to be proud.

[melonpond]

it turns out it only takes 4 weeks of sending someone a pun every single night before they inquire about your mental health

[icecreampotluck]

fic stats meme

twas tagged by @jeeyuns

rules: give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

SIDE NOTE: i have not published 911 fic!!!! trust me i am also mad at me for this!!!!! i am working on it!!! so instead everyone gets a look into the history on my ao3 profile that hasn't had anything updated since 2021 and my most written for fandom. (i am not going to publish anything in 911 fandom until it's fully written to avoid the unfinished fate of a lot of these works dw) but I WANT TO PARTICIPATE!!!! so here goes!!

most hits: i've tried goodbye a hundred times (not one of them true)

Check, Please! (Webcomic), Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter

The first time it happens, it’s daisies. Seven year old William watches in fascination as the flowers appear, line by line, around his wrist and up his arm. They’re just black outlines, with little yellow dots in the middle, but they fascinate him, and he watches as they grow all the way up to his elbow. And then Mitch slams his desk.

yeah i'll be real with you besties. this will probably never be updated again. which is so sad because apparently it's my work with the most hits. but i'm a polyfrogs bitch now!!!! people change!!!!! i don't even remember where the plot was going. this is not the target audience of this apology but you're the ones who get it.

second most kudos: Amy Parson Takes No Shit

Check, Please! (Webcomic), Kent "Parse" Parson/Original Character(s)

She hates this. She hates knowing that for all the talk of acceptance and anyone being able to play, it doesn’t matter. If she told the team, she can’t imagine what they’d think. And God, management would be a nightmare. She shouldn’t have to pick between hockey and being herself but she does and she’s made her choice. Someday, she’s gonna find a way to have her cake and eat it, too.

oh my god so. okay. the tag "im tired of cis bullshit" on this work is so funny. 1) the "cis bullshit" in question was genderbends which is the most 2017 discourse imaginable. 2) when i wrote that tag I identified as cis. LMAOOOOO. i thought i was being such a good ally writing this fic. and then somewhere along the way i was like "goddamm why do i relate so much to Amy's choosing to ruthlessly be herself and why am i jealous of it." and here we are. so this work holds a special place in my heart and i will finish it if it kills me and also probably rewrite the early chapters because they are SIX YEARS OLD oh my god i was FIFTEEN. they could be better, and they will be.

third most comments: all the gun fights, and the lime lights, and the holy sick divine nights

Check, Please! (Webcomic), Derek "Nursey" Nurse/Kent "Parse" Parson

Nursey rolls over in bed the morning after Epikegster, and finds himself face to face with Kent Parson. Kent is drooling, and still asleep, so Nursery takes a moment to assess the situation. Kent has all the covers and is kind of hogging whatever bed they’re in, which appears to be in a hotel room. Nursey is naked, and a quick inventory of the floor leads him to believe that most if not all of his clothing is there. He glances down at himself, and notices a not insignificant number of mouth sized bruises littering his torso. His therapist has been teaching him about not jumping to conclusions, but he’s starting to think he hooked up with Kent Parson.

you won't get it unless you Get It but this is the funniest possible rairpair. i'd love to finish this someday and fix the haphazard characterization. the plot was good as shit i just have to hope i get inspiration back after *checks notes* five years! we'll see!

fourth most bookmarks: i've got you (and you've got me)

Check, Please! (Webcomic), Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

    He’s done it.     He’s graduated, and he’s got his degree, and he’s got an internship lined up, and he can’t wait to get on with the rest of his life.     And he’s got Jack. Oh, lordy, how could he forget Jack?     Jack who is currently waving at him from across the quad, waiting by the lake. Bitty has been saying his goodbyes to his parents, and now, he turns and heads over to him.     “Hey, you.”

yeah i don't have a lot to say about this one! it was okay! least words: would you love me less (if you knew the beds that i've been in)

Check, Please! (Webcomic), Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann

Eric Bittle, struggling baker, runner of a not so struggling premium snapchat, frequenter of the Seattle Fitness Center. Jack Zimmermann, history teacher, boyfriend of Kent Parson, frequenter of the Seattle Fitness Center. Kent Parson, part-time wedding planner, allosexual who's demisexual boyfriend has approved his porn habits but has no interest in partaking, frequenter of some blond twink's premium snapchat.

ZERO words baby!!!! that's what happens on the archive's backend when a fic is told ENTIRELY THROUGH FAKED SCREENSHOTS (and some gym membership cards)!!!!!! i wanna redo some of the things in here and also. you know. finish the entire fic. trust me it's GLORIOUS. if you click on nothing else in this post because you aren't into check please click on this and be proud of some of the edits. (not the reddit one i like. quarter assed that one rather than find a template) this is the fanwork of mine im most proud of i love it so much PLEASE ask me about it even if you haven't read check please i'll happily gush about the plot.

that is all sorry that this is literally NO wee woo content. tagging @evcndiaz @lucydonato @shitouttabuck @housewifebuck and anyone else who wants to do this!

[askthedespairkids]

long story short

*Yuuki stands by the beach's cliffside, listening to waves crash against the craggy rocks. The red hue of the sky clashes strikingly against the black-blue sea*

It's been a long day, no?

Yuuki: *He flinches, failing to hear Maemi approach. Eyes wide, he fails to form any words to say to her*

*She walks up to his side, smooths out her dress and sits on the grassy stone. A few silent moments pass and she looks up at Yuuki expectedly. He takes a seat, unable to bring himself to turn to her*

Yuuki: ...you look beautiful. I've never seen you with your hair down before. It's a lot longer than I realised.

...

Yuuki: ...*His lips press together and thin* Sorry. I don't know what to say.

I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be my line in this situation...

Yuuki: ...

I'm sorry, Yuuki. For everything. The lying, the manipulation, all of it. No matter what reason I had for doing it all, it doesn't make it any better...and I used Sly to make it happen as well, which just makes the whole situation even more bitter.

Yuuki: For both of us, yeah...*He finally finds the courage to turn and look at her* I thought you weren't going to apologise for what you did?

I said I wouldn't regret it. Which I don't. You were getting worse, and it came to the point where it meant even if I had to burn all of my bridges to save you - to make up for all the times you saved me...it would be worth it.

Yuuki: Why did you never come clean about remembering it all? About knowing that Shirogane was That Girl.

...I had moved on with my life since those days. Or at least...learned to live and pretend it never happened. So, when I saw you at Hope's Peak on that first day and I saw that look in your eyes...I vowed to never let you realise I remembered. To never dredge up the past. We deserved to move on...after all, it got covered up. Its not like I could go to a therapist and talk about it - they'd call me delusional and crazy.

Yuuki: ...I could never get past it. *He takes his hat off and stares at it* ...Nic gave this to me the day before he died. How could I ever move on?

Nic...The Ultimate Explorer.

Yuuki: *A sad smile creeps on his face* I still feel like that fifteen year old, sitting across from him in the dining hall. Thinking...'as long as you're here, I'll be okay'. I think I'm still mentally there. Like I've got dust collecting on me, right where Nic left me.

He was a good man...

Yuuki: And yet he died, when I'm still here...when you didn't remember it crushed me. I felt so isolated. And then I find out after all these years that you actually remembered? I just don't...how could you just move on?

Honestly, I still have nightmares of it. That I'm still at knifepoint before Hikari-san saved me...but he doesn't make it in those dreams. So, I guess I'm not as far past it as I like to let on.

Yuuki: *He chuckles bitterly* And yet you still hang around Shirogane.

I just can't risk her remembering it. If she ever became that person again...

Yuuki: Yeah, I don't want that either...thank you for saving me. You were willing to sacrifice your friends in order to save me. I didn't deserve that kind of resolve.

It was a dirty tactic. I think my friendship with Sly is as good as over...

Yuuki: *They look at each other briefly and then turn back to the ocean* ...funnily enough, it's because of this that I'm finally friends with him. So, I suppose some good did come of it.

Maybe if you didn't put on that playboy-polyglot-persona then you would've had an easier time finding your social links.

Yuuki: Eh~ You don't like it when I call you 'Mademoiselle'?

Please. When you showed up with that personality, I thought you'd had a breakdown. But no, you just decided to be like that.

I, however, still remember the boy that locked himself out of his dorm when he was only wearing his underwear-

Yuuki: *His face burns with embarrassment* arrêter de parler! God, it's too much to remember!

Hmhm! That's more like the Yuuki I remember.

Yuuki: ...I missed you.

Yuuki-

Yuuki: Come on, Maemi-chan just let me say it once. After all these years I get to find out that you're really that same girl...I missed you.

...I missed you too.

Yuuki: ...*He smiles, just a little*...will we be okay?

That'll be up to you. I'll put the work in, but I don't want to you just go ahead and forgive me until I've really earned it.

Yuuki: I know. At least I know you aren't going anywhere, right?

Not as long as you're going to be around.

Yuuki: *He grins* Then I look forward to seeing if we'll to reinvent our friendship...Mademoiselle Watanabe.

And you, Monsieur Kurosaki. *She stands up and offers him a hand. He takes it and the two look back to the party* We should go back now, no? Before they realise we snuck off.

Yuuki: Yes, we should...*He looks ready to say something, but when Maemi looks into his eyes, his words die in his throat* After you.

____________

*Panting heavily, having managed to protect the bouquet from the crowd that tried to wrestle it away from him* I...did it...

Kurosaki-san, it looks like broccoli toss is about to happen. You should go and join in.

Yuuki: Oh, no, I couldn't-

Kobo: *Pushing Yuuki towards the crowd* C'mon, loser! Get in there and join us!

Yuuki: O-Okanaya-kun, wait! Urgh! *He gets shoved in amongst the crowd*

Karma: *Now atop the platform, they turn their back to the crowd* Right! Three! Two! One! *The throw the broccoli over their head and into the crowd and it falls into the fray. As the crowd reaches to grab it, one hand manages to grasp it before anyone else*

Ahah! I got it!

Damn! (Kid's so short I didn't even see him go for the kill!)

*Nudges Kyouko off to the side* Looks like you'll have a lovely prosperous family. Lucky you!

Ah...well...

Yuuki: *Looks around at the celebration. His classmates laughing and mingling. And finally, for the first time in a long time, Yuuki finds peace and relaxes into the atmosphere*

[sunnyanddumb98]

Dear Haruki Murakami,

Hi, I'm Karla Muñoz, and I'm writing this letter to express my appreciation for all that you have done for me.

For context, I study animation in college and have worked on 3D sculptures for some really low-budget shooter video games. Even though I don't play video games and don't particularly care for them, I've also worked as a background painter for animation. I've been struggling to find passion in my work, even though I do have a fondness for cartoons. Thanks to you, I'm now writing a book about a girl who, after a breakup, metaphorically releases butterflies from her stomach and embarks on a trip to Europe with a friend, despite having no money or resources. It's about that moment when everything feels numb, and one yearns to go deeper.

You're probably wondering how you fit into this picture. The truth is, you've entered my thoughts several times during this journey. As I write this letter in the common room of a hostel, there's a Mexican guy nearby who keeps trying to make contact with me, using the doorframe to stretch his arm towards me, even though there's plenty of space and no one else around. Even when I moved inside from the terrace, he followed and tried to strike up a conversation. It's not his fault that I'm more engrossed in talking to the image of a seventy-something-year-old Japanese guy that I've constructed in my mind, pieced together from your books and interviews.

I'm a bit of a bullshitter at heart. At a young age, I realized that you don't have to know everything to get good grades or appear knowledgeable. I learned to just echo their questions with affirmation and speak mostly in statements, using descriptive adjectives but avoiding adverbs. You just have to sound like you know your stuff and be convincing. As a result, I never really learned how to communicate my true thoughts and feelings. That's why I chose communication as my major. I went in and out of it quickly, feeling detached. I started working in corporate video games and quickly burned out.

I took a gap year and started therapy because I was crying every day and night, becoming dehydrated from it all. My therapist told me I had feelings, and though I initially found it amusing, I decided to go along with this "feelings" theory in a desperate attempt to stop crying. I learned to recognize and name them, but I had to be acutely aware of my inner and outer self, which, for a twenty-year-old, was at best erratic. Still, I could only put names to them in a language that was foreign to me.

And then you appeared as a grainy fifteen-second video with a quote. At that time, it may or may not have been true. You wrote it in Japanese, then I translated it back and forth. My goodness, bless you. This technique opened up so much for me. Who would have thought that rewriting whatever comes to mind three or four times would make so much sense? Of course, the credit isn't solely yours. Taylor Swift, the woman I skipped in my teens to read about social constructs and our obligations to each other, pretending that I had any inkling of understanding and also pretending that I was the only person with internet access at my school.

I started writing little songs about what I had seen and experienced. Making them rhyme turned it into a game, and translating them made everything come together, although it also brought pain and forced me to confront many things at once. For that, I will always be grateful.

The next time you entered my life, I was 24 and had just experienced a disastrous falling out with my male best friend. Long story short, we became involved romantically, it continued, feelings got messy, and he developed feelings for someone else. I distanced myself and was truly saddened, acknowledging it this time.

It was a sunny spring day when I had my left wisdom tooth removed. I'm terribly afraid of dentists, and like the spoiled brat I can be, my mom bought me a book as a treat. Books are quite pricey in Chile and come with higher taxes than regular goods. I asked for something funny, sarcastic, First person singular, That was the first time I laughed heartily with a book.

More books followed, and I began jotting things down. Writing short stories were the only things keeping me going. It was like talking to a friend I no longer had. The stories weren't directed at him, but I mimicked in those early tales how I used to ramble and mumble to him for hours. Then came a month-long trip to London, staying in an Airbnb room. Irritable bowel syndrome and returning to my hometown. Freelance work, a big corporate job, the dead of a dear friend. The dead of a friendship.

With my college girlfriends, we have a group chat. We all fell into astrology at the same time, not knowing much about it, so we sought answers in the stars. Quite the reliable information source, you know. One of them was in love but didn't feel the butterflies, so I advised her to eliminate them and choose. We debated the best ways to do so, and in the end, I found myself in my room, in front of my screen, laughing and giggling.

I took a Eurotrip to validate the book or the time to write the book. However, travelling on a budget is exhausting, and I eventually stop giggling in front of the screen. Instead, I found myself wandering aimlessly in the streets for hours on end. Don't get me wrong, I love eating bread every day, navigating winding cobblestone streets without a map, and sharing a room with twelve rather unhygienic Europeans. Essentially, I'm living out every dream I had when I was twelve, but also facing every fear.

I'm in Porto and haven't written a thing in a month. At first, it was due to exhaustion, then I grew weary of avoiding admitting how poorly my body felt. Finally, a spirited Spanish woman, around 60 years old, complained loudly about the lack of Spanish books in the hostel. There was only one copy of "Norwegian Wood". After devouring a hundred pages, I began writing again.

It's true that I've only read three of your many books: "Novelist as Vocation," "First Person Singular," and "Norwegian Wood." However, each time you entered my life, it was uninvited, and yet somehow, immensely helpful. I no longer think about how my friend would phrase things or react when I write. Will he find this funny? Is this pun good? Instead, I think of you. When I'm tired, I listen to "Novelist as Vocation" because you are as chaotic as it gets, and it makes me feel secure.

Intentional or not, you have become my mentor and have taken care of me on numerous occasions. Thank you so much. Please continue to do so, as I have no one else I look up to in quite the same way. Don't leave us just yet. I promise to read the rest of your books, but it's like savoring an incredible meal. One of them sustains me for a long time, and I don't want to indulge in gluttony.

Sending a very awkward and uncomfortable hug along with my best wishes to you,

Karla

[dorotheajanegilmore]

Closer to you - Chris Evans

CHAPTER TWO

Dinner that night was lovely. Mom made my favourite meal, chicken casserole and it was so flipping good. You know when you don't have a certain food in a while and you grave it so much and then you finally have it and it's so satisfying? That's this. This chicken casserole.

I sat beside Lucy and Joe on the left couch whole mom, dad and Leo day on the right couch. Alex sat on the floor and worked through some receipts for his and my dads garage.

Dad and Alex are mechanics and own their own garage in town. Alex skipped out on college, he's been working on bikes and cars since he could walk and so my dad decided to go into business with him a year or two ago.

My mother is an interior decorator and artist. You'll either find her in paint stores or furniture stores and then you'll see her in her paint splashed dungarees, holding  four books of paint swatches and fabric samples.

My sister Lucy is a nurse and works at the local hospital. Her husband Leo is a high school teacher who teaches french, which comes in handy when I want to talk to him and Lucy in private in front of family members. And Joe, well Joe's 6 so he's whatever he wants to be.

Holly is a therapist in the city, she has her own office and clients and is a full on boss lady. Her boyfriend Penn is an attorney at a big firm a few blocks away from her office.

Teegan also works in the city, as a freelance photographer. Her photos have been featured in big magazines and she's working on her own exhibit at a small museum right now.

Chloe is a fashion designer who's trying to get her boss to take a look at her sketch book, however it's kind of a Devil Wears Prada situation and her boss is ignorant unless she wants coffee or an Advil. Chloe's boyfriend Jonas is a builder and works around the city doing various things.

It's hard to believe we've all got grown up jobs. Even though my next birthday I turn *cough* thirty *cough* I still feel like a fifteen year old high school student with pink streaks in my hair and working Saturday's at the Dairy Queen.

As we all crowded around the tv in the living room, the fireplace crackling in the background, watching Home Alone, the door bell rang.

My mother was busy creating interior designs on her iPad, my dad was captures by the booby traps set by young Kevin McAllister and my sister gave me a sharp elbow, telling me I had to go. With a roll of my eyes I let my fluffy socks hit the hard wood floors.

I stepped out into the hall and closed the living room door behind me not to let all the heat out of the front door. I pressed my hands to the solid wood door and peered up through the peep hole. As soon as I saw who it was I stepped back down in panic. It was the hot guy from next door. I had just washed all of my makeup off in the shower! My hair was a wet scraggly mess and my pyjamas had Rudolph on them.

Not wanting to leave him I the cold I sighed and twisted the key in the lock. I pulled the door back and acted surprise. "Hi."

"Hi, uh Alessia right?" He asked, pointing at me casually, while holding a small shoe box that had been decorated with Christmas paper.

I nodded and pointed back. "Lisa's son right?"

"Chris." He shrugged and chuckled.

"Nice to meet you properly, Chris." I said and he nodded.

"And you. Uh I just found the box my grandma left you and thought I should bring it over." He held it out to me and I took it.

"Thank you. Do you know what's in here?" I wondered out loud.

Chris shrugged. "No, Nana never said. It's intriguing though."

"Well would you like to come in and go through it with me?" I offered.

"Oh I wouldn't want to intrude." He shook his head politely.

"It wouldn't be intruding, it's me inviting."

"Well..." He stepped back and glanced over at his house before nodding. "Sure, it would be nice."

I stepped back and pulled the door open for him to come in. His sneakers left snow on the welcome mat and he hung his jacket up on the hook.

I closed the door and gestured to the door beside the living room door. He went first and stepped into Joe's playroom. We walked through the playroom until we got to the study. A small room at the back of the house that was lined with bookshelves that were full of the classics. Apart from one wall which left room in the middle for a fireplace and a tv. The fireplace was fake, we could t risk all of these books being caught ablaze. It was just cosy.

A large grey couch was placed in the middle of the room, filled with blankets and comfy plump pillows. A small bar cart  was at the back of the room with sachets of hot chocolate, teabags, various mugs and a tea kettle. My dads hot chocolate station. This room was the epitome of cosy.

"Wow, this is the most homely cosy room I have ever been in." Chris chuckled as he sat at the far end of the couch, his eyes frantically searching the room in wonder and awe.

"Yeah, my dad designed it when I was 12. I was the most anxious kid you'd ever meet. It really helped me."

"You struggled with anxiety?" Chris asked, taking interest in me.

I nodded, feeling strangely comfortable with him. "I had knee surgery when I was young so I took quite some time away from school. I spent six months in the house so when I finally went back to mainstream school and going back to stores and being around strangers and crowds, it hit me hard." I sat down on the couch, leaving a comfortable metre.

"I couldn't even imagine. You're really strong for going through that so young." Chris put a comforting hand on my shoulder absentmindedly. When he realised he had touched me he tended up and awkwardly removed his hand. "Sorry about that."

I shrugged. "It's fine, thank you for trying to comfort me. I appreciate it. Now, let's get into this shall we."

He nodded and I began to pick the edge of the brown tape sealing the two sides of the box. With a great pull the tape lifted and the two sides opened. I placed the box between us and pulled the sides back.

"Oh my god." I giggled as I saw the familiar white paper. "Cheryl always has this fancy paper on her kitchen counter-"

Chris nodded like an excited child, his cheeks becoming flushed. "Yes, for her recipes!"

We each took a sheet and read over them. "I must've asked a good thirty times for her blueberry pie recipe."

"Looks like the nagging was worth it." He chuckled as he pulled out a chunk of paper. He flipped through and nodded. "Yep. All of Nana's recipes. You lucky cookie."

"Well now I have to go to the store don't I." My smile was wild as I remembered all of the hours I spent baking with sweet Cheryl.

"Why's that?" Chris wondered out loud.

"I need baking supplies. Tomorrow's gonna be a busy one."

Chris shook his head and placed the recipes on the couch. "Not to be invasive but would you mind if I joined? I could test all the goods, you know make sure they're up to standard." He nodded, pretending to be serious.

"Are you kidding? If you want the food you have to help." I told him and he nodded, throwing his hands up dramatically.

"Hey I wouldn't mind that."

"Alright then." I nodded.

We continued through box, pulling out photos and little things I had left like a bracelet I had taken off before a baking session and my scarf I had forgotten.

"Would you mind if I kept this?" Chris asked from behind me as I slid the recipes into a plastic pocket I had gotten from one of the drawers.

Without turning back to see what he meant I furrowed my brows and buttoned the pocket. "My scarf? Sure, if that's what you're in to."

"Funny." He chuckled. "I meant one of these photos. I know you're in it so if you'd feel uncomfortable or course tell me to piss off but, I've never seen my Grandma so happy."

I turned around to glance at the photo and ended up stopping. The photo Chris wanted was of me holding a baking tray will Cheryl added some last minute sprinkles to the batter. Her eyes were sparkling and her mouth was open as she laughed fiercely at something I had said. It made me miss her and our baking sessions so much.

I wiped a tear and nodded. "Of course, yeh, take it." I said quickly before my voice began to shake.

"Aww Alessia." Chris rushed to his feet as he saw me cry. His thinking was just to comfort me, he didn't care that we had only just met. He pulled me into a hug and his hand rubbed my back.

I hugged back momentarily before remembering that this guy was a stranger. I quickly put my hands on his muscular arms and pulled back. "I'm sorry. She was your grandmother, I have no right to cry over this."

"What? Of course you do." Chris shook his head and defended my emotional outburst. "You grew up next to her. You spent hours with her. Hours that me and my family really appreciate. When she lost Arthur, my grandfather, she was so lonely and me and my siblings couldn't come back and forth as much as we would have liked. From the photos, I can tell she loved every minute with you. You were like a granddaughter to her."

"Thanks Chris." I said with tear filled eyes.

His kind blue eyes looked down at me and he nodded with a small smile. As we looked at each other in silence, another tear fell from my eye, one that had been on the edge for a while. His hand came traveled up and his thumb gently wiped the heat from my cheek.

Before things could get awkward I looked down and then back up at him. I stepped back and put a hand in my hoodie pocket. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course. What time did you wanna get started?" Great, the subject had been easily changed and we could move on.

"Uh I need to go to the store so maybe like 10-11am?"

"You want to sleep in don't you?" He smirked at me and I nodded with a shrug.

"Yeah well it's been a long drive from New York and I'm tired from...all of the emotion. So yeah, I'm sleeping in."

He chuckled and I reached for the door. I pulled it back to see my mother standing with her fist in the air, obviously about to knock.

"Mom?"

"Oh, hi honey. Uh, Chris?" My mother's eyes shot to his direction and she sent him passive aggressive daggers.

"Yes Mrs Perri?"

"You're girlfriend-" my mom emphasised the word "girlfriend" and I quietly giggled and nodded. Of course he had a girlfriend? Why wouldn't Mr Handsome McPerfect have a girlfriend? "-called and said that dinner's ready."

Chris nodded. "Great, thanks Mrs Perri."

My Mom nodded and turned to walk away, sending me a sorry look. When she closed the had gone down the hall and I heard the living room door close I looked over at Chris.

He was twiddling his thumbs, looking at me to judge my reaction. I gave him a friendly smile and pulled the door back. "So I'll see you tomorrow right?" Pretending I wasn't disappointed. But what did I expect? That he liked me? No way, we're friends. I just met the guy, he's my baking partner. Nothing more.

"Right, yes." He looked and sounded so relieved.

Previously (chapter one)

Next (chapter three)

[luminescencechatoyant]

Summary Ellie is nothing like her on screen character, neither is Pete Dunne.

Word Count 2594

everything that sounds like its made up, it probably is. If its really all rights reserved to the company's mentioned, Tyler is 21 BC I forgot how young he was until halfway through writing oops

ekayyla, tumblr.com

Ellie was nothing like her on screen persona, her character was the nicest, sweetest character Ellie had ever seen on the WWE and Ellie wasn't. Ask her friend and she'd describe her as an arsehole, Ellie just liked to think she was closed off. She didn't like people and if she didn't have to talk to them, she wouldn't - simple as that, not hard to understand really.

She hadn't come to the WWE to make friends, she hadn't started wrestling to make friends - she wrestled because she had terrible anger management and her therapist told her to. That's what she told people anyway, truth was she absolutely admired Lita growing up. All she ever wanted in life was to be as badass as her and not take anyones shit. Growing up in an countless foster homes, she was meek and quiet and never spoke unless spoken to, until she realized she didn't have to.

She talked back, she argued and if they still didn't see her point, she fought harder. She fought for everything other kids had handed to them, she fought to be respected. And who else was a highly respected but still badass woman? Lita.

She'd met her once when a particularly nice foster carer had noticed how much she liked to watch wrestling and bought meet and greet tickets. Ellie cried when the mother told her, she cried and she bawled. She was so happy.

So she met Lita, told her how she grew up in foster homes loving her and Lita smiled, hugged the tiny nine year old and signed her shirt with a stay strong, ellie scribbled on the front. She loved that shirt like she loved her foster mom, until the Alabama bush fires took her shirt and her foster mom. Ellie didn't smile for a year afterwards.

Abusive foster parents and a rough childhood left Ellie hostile to the world, she fought when she could, girls and boys behind the school, behind the diner on the corner near her house, anywhere.

It wasn't until she was fifteen that the school therapist suggest she find an outlet for all her anger, she tried soccer, football, hell, she even tried dancing. Nothing worked until the therapist told her about the new wrestling school opening up on the better side of town.

Ellie hadn't watched wrestling since she lost her foster mom and she spiraled out of control, standing on the steps of the wrestling studio had her heart hammering in her chest and hands shaking like a leaf. It wasn't until another girl near her saw how nervous she looked, took her by the hand and gently guided her into the gym.

Maria had been a few years older than her and already wrestling for a few years until her parents had relocated to Ellie's small town. Whenever her panic attacks would flare up or Ellie needed a hand with moves, Maria was there with a guiding hand and a calm voice. Whenever Maria had boy problems or girls were harrasing her, Ellie was at her back or standing by to give out hugs, something she didn't particularly like doing but it was Maria and she deserved her hugs.

So on Ellie's 16th birthday. Maria and her parents surprised her with a party and a certificate of adoption. She cried, hugged Maria and her parents, hugged the few people that came from the wrestling gym and cried again.

Eight years later, Maria and Ellie debuted on NXT and not two months later, Maria was the new NXT Womens Champion and Ellie had yet to be pinned. She'd had plenty of count-outs and disqualifications but she still hadn't been pinned until she'd aligned herself with British Strong Style.

Trent Seven, Tyler Bate and Pete Dunne were absolutely lethal in the ring and out. Seven and Bate were two of the most welcoming people she'd met in the company, her personality just clicked with theirs right from the start.

Pete Dunne was nothing like his on screen persona, yeah he's an arse, but hes never standoff-ish like his character. Ellie would rather describe him as sweet, since she'd met him he'd done nothing but try to get her to open up to him. He'd bring her coffee in the mornings and drop her home when Maria couldn't, it had taken her three weeks of being an arse for Maria to slap her around the head and tell Ellie not to be so rude.

She tried not to from then on, she thanked Pete for the coffee, invite him inside for a cup of tea after he'd drop her home and eventually it evolved into more. On free days, she'd invite him over to watch a movie and they'd cuddle on the lounge.

Pete started to ask her over for dinner, her and Maria were invited to nights out with the boys, gym sessions were mandatory and afterwards the boys would share their vegan pizza.

Ellie couldn't help herself, she started to fall for the Bruiserweight with a heart of gold. It killed her to watch him dance with girls when they went out, but she did, she turned around with a smile because all she wanted was for him to be happy. If it wasn't with her, fair enough it wasn't with her - but he was happy and that made her happy.

"C'mon love," Trent's voice echoed through Maria and Ellie's apartment, "If you don't hurry up we'll miss our booking!"

"Bowling lanes don't wait for wrestlers!" Ellie snorted when Tyler yelled out, he'd taken the joke baby of the group literally - It was a rare sight not to see him joking around.

"I'm coming! Don't get your knickers in a twist." Nora bounced down the stairs and waved her arms extravagantly when she hit the bottom, "Ta-da!"

"It took you that long to get dressed..." Trent hesitated, "...into that?"

Nora glanced down at her shirt and jeans with a frown, "I think I look fine."

"Pete likes it when you dress up." Tyler, the non stop voice of wisdom, spoke from where he was slouched on her coach.

"We're going bowling," Nora said plainly, Trent flicked any eyebrow up with out a word, "Fine, fine! I'll get changed."

She walked down five minutes later with the same shirt on, only tucked into a leather skirt, "Happy?"

Trent nodded with a smile, "Let's get out of here."

"Finally!" Trent sighed, rolling off the couch and hobbling out the door like a old man.

"You're nineteen, you bloody drama queen!" Trent snorted and followed him out the door.

It doesn't take them long to get the address Pete texted through and when they find their lane, Pete and Maria have cold beers waiting for them. Tyler downs half of his in one go and throws himself into a chair, Ellie rolls her eyes and slips into the chair next to Pete.

"Thanks guys, how was the meet and greet?" Ellie asks as she sips her drink.

"It was great," Pete's eyes flick up from Ellie's leg, "The fans were amazing as always."

"Oh, El -" Maria jumps in her seat and starts to dig through her bag and Pete gets up to start the game, "- there was this one little girl that wanted me to give you this."

She hands over a tiny bead bracelet with ELLIE ROCKS spelt out on it. Its bright yellow and doesn't match her outfit at all, but she slips it over her wrist anyway because her fan made her this. They poured their heart into it, she snaps a photo to upload twitter later so she can find the parent and send her a shirt.

"Your turn love!" Pete hollers from the point screen and gesture at the lane.

"Don't laugh at me, guys," she says as she slips her bowling shoes on, "I haven't bowled in years."

"You'll do fine, " Pete says as she grips the ball uncertainly, he see the uncertainty on her face and smiles softly, "Here, I'll give you a hand."

His large hand comes to rest on her elbow and straightens it while the other one sits on her lower back, a glance back at the group shows none of them paying attention but when she look back at Pete his face is inches from hers. Her breath catches when his eyes flicker own to her lips but then he steps away and she's left reeling.

"All you gotta do now is throw the ball down the lane." Pete tells her, his voice low, and then turns to sit with their friends.

She turns her back to them and stares a the lane, what the fucking fuck? She shakes her head and swings her arm, closes her eyes and just hopes for the best. The ball slams into the wood with a loud crack and not a second later sinks into the gutter, her second go is not much better and she turns back to the group with a shy smile.

"Told you I was no good -" she stops and eyes her friends, they're obviously trying to hide their laughter and Pete's face is bright red, "...what are you laughing at?"

"Nothing, hun." Maria stands up to take her go and whisper into Ellie's ear as she passes, "Pete was a bit too interested  in watching you bowl."

She dumbfounded for a moment before she realizes that Pete was sitting directly behind her, he had a perfect eyeful of her being over. She stifles a giggle at his slowly fading red cheeks and pats his hand, "Get a good look, Dunne?"

He frowns as Seven and Bate laugh loudly, ignoring her in favor of his beer. Ellie watches as Maria bowls a strike and lays her head on Pete's shoulder, "Sorry for teasing."

Pete shifts and drops his shoulder for her to lean on more comfortably, "All good, love."

"Were you really staring at my are?" Ellie asks as she traces pattern on Pete's bare arm that's resting softly on her  thigh.

"...yeah."

"Pete!" She laughs and nudges his arm off of her, but he catches her hand and bring it up to his lips.

He brushes a soft kiss against her knuckles and stares evenly into her eyes, "Its a very nice arse, love."

"Pete!" Trent hollers, "You're up, mate."

Pete drops her hand into her lap and moves to take his turn, Ellie watches him walk away until Maria plops into the open seat. "What was all that?"

"C'mon," Ellie pulls maria our of her seat and towards the bar, "I need another drink."  

"Wait, what happened?" Maria stumbles behind her and watches as Ellie's head slumps into her hands at the bar.

"I have it so, so bad for Pete." Ellie groans from behind her hands.

"Well, duh."

Ellie glances up at her from between her fingers and snorts, "I shouldn't even surprised that you already know."

"Is it that obvious?" She sighs as they collect their drinks.

"Yeah, I mean-" she hesitates, "I don't know if Pete knows but he's usually pretty clued on when it come to these things. He knew Peyton and I liked each other before we did."

"El! Its your turn!"

Ellie sighs and orders another round for the boys, the waitress is quicker with these ones and they carry them back to the boys. Pete's eyes follow Ellie as she sets the drinks down and grabs her ball, she swallows nervously and glances back at him, winks slowly and bends to take her shot.

She bowls a strike and turns back to the group smugly, "Someones gonna catch up."

Tyler rolls his eyes, "She's gonna be a sore winner, isn't she?"

"Always is, kid." Trent barks a laugh when Tyler's face falls.

They keep bowling until Tyler wins, smugly throwing his arms up and parading around with a toy wrestling belt he'd smuggled in for the winner. Ellie laughs and gives him a high five because she may be a sore winner, she's not a sore loser.

They wander over to the arcade and avoid the sea of children surrounding the kids toys. Ellie laughs as her and Maria fail spectacularly at Dance, Dance, Revolution, pouts childishly when Trent's demolishes her at buck hunting-

("Its not fair, you cheated!"

"...its buck hunting, El. How am I possibly able to cheat at it?"

"I don't know but you did, anyway.")

And laughs like a hyena when she beats Tyler's record at PacMan, who vows to never leave the machine until he beats her record,

(Trent and Maria pull him away five minutes later.)

Ellie wanders around the arcade until she finds Pete lazily throwing basketballs in the back of the arcade, she's stopped for a moment when she sees his arms flex in his singlet. She leans up against the side and tries to keep her eyes from ogling his arms, it doesn't work very well but Pete hasn't complained yet.

"I bet you I can sink all of these balls." Pete wages as he stuff another token into the machine and watches the balls drop.

"What's the wager?" Ellie's asks and settles on the seat of a motorbike game next to him.

"A kiss." He says, she eyes his face and sees not one trace of humour.

"Here?" She glances around, "Pete, there's kids everywhere."

"We'll find somewhere."

He's dead serious and she figures it can't hurt, he won't sink them all. "Fine."

Oh, how wrong she was. As soon as the words left her mouth, Pete turned and sunk the first ball, followed by the second, then the third and another after that. She can't watch, she closes her eyes and listens to the swish after swish until the buzzer sounds and she's jerked out of her seat. She briefly notices the 30/30 on the machine before Pete pull her from the arcade, hurries out of the building and has her pressed against the side of the building in minutes.

His lips press against her roughly, leaving a scorching trail of heat when they brush. Their teeth knock, their lips bite and hands grab everything they can, hers are grabbing his shirt, his are sliding down to her thighs before she's lifted and pressed against the wall harder. Rough hands press under her shirt and along her ribcage, she arches into his touch and -

"You have to return those shoes! They're property of the - oh."

- flinches away as the shoe loan worker swings around the corner. Pete drops her quickly and she blushes as she fixes her shirt. The shoes are pulled off and Pete and Nora are left standing in the shadows with socks on.

"Go home, kids."

They mumble apologies and flee to Pete's car where Nora pulls their shoes out of her bulging bag, she laughs airily and leans against the hood of Pete's car. "Well, that was fun."

Pete smirks and arches an eyebrow, "Fun? I just had a heart attack!"

"Don't be a wimp." She laughs and runs her hand over his shoulder. He catches her around the waist and draws her closer to him, pressing her between him and the car.

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" He asks as he brushes his lips against hers.

"Hell, yes."