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matwith1t · 3 years

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A/N: Back with angst 👊 Fair warning, this fic is pure angst. All of it 🔪 It’s heavily inspired by Landslide by Fleetwood Mac, and it’s the fic where I project my fear of staying stagnant in life (oops). I have a somewhat working outline for a part 2, but I’d love to know your thoughts!! Also, this fic has a brief smut scene, so if you’re not 18+ hop on over to my masterlist for something else !

Summary: Your long-term relationship with Mat brought you more happiness than anything else in the world. But one day, something in your gut felt different, an emotion that you couldn’t quite place felt off. And maybe, that feeling was the catalyst for you wanting a change in life.

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Smut, Swearing // WC: 11.2K // Angst

The sun felt warm against your face and the grass beneath you tickled your ankles. With the month of May nearing its end, the sweet smell of spring could still be detected in the air during the seasonal transition to summer. From a distance, the soft sounds of children laughing while running through the park tugged your lips upward into a small smile.

A sense of ease flooded your body as you laid directly on the grass with your arms tucked behind your head. The vital force that came with being outside in the springtime energized your body to the point where you felt your body produce more natural endorphins. You treasured the outdoors––it would always remain a sacred place for you––but as you laid upon the grass, an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach clawed its way up at a deliberately slow, and unwarranted, pace.

It felt like a secret message your body was trying to communicate with you, but you didn’t have the tools on how to decode it.

The feeling came in and out, like ocean tides, but you did your best to push it aside when the uneasiness surfaced. So far, everything in your life had been smooth sailing––everything had been going according to plan––so you never paid that feeling any attention.

There wasn’t anything in your life that you wanted to change.

With a deep breath, you tried to inhale as much of the fresh spring air as possible.

“Hey, sleepy.”

With one eye squinted open, you brought a hand from behind your head to shield the sun rays from blinding your face. And when your vision adjusted to the sunlight, you saw your boyfriend at an upside down angle. In his arms he held a blanket as he waved down at you. A smile instantly graced your lips as you shut both of your eyes, before opening them slowly.

As Mat shook out the blanket before spreading it out on the grass, you sat up, and stuck your legs straight out, “You’re a bit late.”

Without looking at you, Mat rolled his eyes, “Practice ran late.”

When the blanket was laid out on the grass, Mat sat down and patted the spot next to him. With a smile, you made your way to sit next to him. Your smile widened when you saw he already had an arm raised for you to tuck yourself into his side.

“It was a morning practice,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, “It’s nearly four in the afternoon.”

With adoration in his eyes shining just as bright as the spring sun, you felt yourself fall more in love with him. His hand dangled over your shoulder as he lazily traced circles on your upper arm, “Tito wanted ice-cream.”

A laugh of amusement, mixed with disbelief, escaped your lips as you placed both hands on his chest to push him away, “You liar.”

With your shove, Mat tightened his arm around your shoulder as the two of you fell backward on the blanket laughing. As you laid on your side, Mat readjusted his arm around you, with your head on his shoulder. His sweatshirt felt soft, and his chest continued to shake with laughter.

“Practice did run late,” Mat reiterated his first point, to which you only hummed in acknowledgement, “And then Tito said he wanted ice-cream, but he wanted to go to this specific shop.” Mat placed a kiss on your temple, “Would’ve told him to go alone if I knew how much time it’d take.”

Again, you hummed, as you rested a hand on his stomach, “Did you at least tell your boyfriend that your girlfriend said hi?”

Mat scoffed at your remark and poked your stomach in retaliation. You laughed at his childish behavior and moved a bit down the blanket so your head now rested just below his heart. He pulled you closer to him, and with your face nuzzled into his sweatshirt, you took a deep breath and savored how much his sweatshirt smelled like home to you.

He smelled almost as good as spring.

The hand that you had on his stomach rose up and down with his even breathing. And as you laid outside on the grass, surrounded by the spring air and the person you loved most in your life, you felt nothing but peace. Comfortable silence wasn’t uncommon in your relationship. While his voice soothed your most anxious thoughts… hearing the birds sing their melodies, listening in on the slight rustle of tree leaves whenever the wind blew, and the sound of steady breathing, paired with Mat’s slightly faster heartbeat, was more calming than anything.

“I can’t wait until that’s us.”

You peered up at Mat to see his vision locked in on something to his right. In order to see what he was referring to, you propped your chin up on his chest. It didn’t take you long to see that something was really a someone. And upon squinting to get a better look, that someone turned out to be a man, woman, and a child.

Your only response to him was a hum as you traced shapes on his stomach, hoping that your touch was strong enough to distract him from the conversation you knew he was about to bring up.

“I love you,” his words were strong, not faltering in the slightest, as he stared down at you with a promising look in his eyes. He picked up your hand––ultimately putting a stop to what you had hoped would distract him from this exact conversation––and pressed a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “So much.”

Mat gently placed your still connected hands on his stomach as you craned your neck up to press a kiss to his cheek, “I love you, too.”

He squeezed your hand twice, a look of amazement in his eyes as he stared up at the sky with a soft smile, “In a few months, It’ll be six years since we’ve been together.”

Your head softly fell back onto his chest as you nodded. Because while you’ll be celebrating six years of officially being in a relationship, the two of you had known each other much longer. He was the annoying kid at the end of the cul-de-sac who chased you around front yards and threatened to give you cooties. And you were the little girl who ran away from him, pretending to be disgusted whenever he got too close, but secretly loved his attention.

And that’s when your crush on him began.

From playing group games with other kids at neighborhood block parties, pairing up to sit next to each other on the bus in elementary school during field trips, to Mat asking you to the winter formal in eighth grade on a dare…Your infatuation towards him only grew.

By the time you were both eighteen, Mat realized his feelings, and asked you out on a date.

Playing games with other kids went to spending one-on-one time with Mat on dates. Sitting next to each other on the school bus as little kids went to Mat picking you up in his car as teenagers. And going to dances together was no longer the end product of a dare.

Even when Mat went to Seattle to play hockey, the two of you still kept the connection while you stayed in Canada. The four years of University were easier; with Mat playing for the New York Islanders, and your top choice for school was in New York City, it didn’t take more than a second thought to accept the offer.

As if Mat had the same memories playing on an endless loop in his head, he let out a relaxed breath, “I can’t wait until we buy a house, tell our kids how we met, and take them to this park.”

The uncomfortable familiar feeling you felt earlier in the afternoon creeped up your stomach, “You really have it all planned out.”

“I have our life,” he squeezed your hand as he made a point to emphasize a shared future between the two of you, “planned out.”

You were positive he could feel your heartbeat increase. And while the pounding of your heart could easily be mistaken for the heightened feelings you felt whenever you were near Mat, you knew something else was causing this distress. There was no one in the world you loved more than Mat. You loved your family because they were family, but you made a conscious decision to love him. And despite some hardships, he chose to love you as well.

But thinking about the future made you squirm.

A future with Mat was all you ever desired. You knew he was the one person in the universe made for you when you were halfway through university. And you were pretty sure Mat knew you were his person by the fourth date.

You still kept some of your notebooks that had doodles in the margin. The psychology notebook from junior year of high school had Mat Barzal, with hearts dotting around his name, in every blank space. And even in university, your senior year thesis notebook had script writing of your name paired with his last name, so you could practice a potential new signature for the future.

Since the seventh grade, this was everything you daydreamed about with Mat; a future together. Happiness always fogged up your mind whenever you thought about a lifetime together with him, you wanted this, but everything felt like it was approaching faster than anticipated. And the undisclosed feeling in the pit of your stomach wasn’t going away no matter how hard you tried to only think about a happy future with Mat.

Wanting to feel anything other than whatever made your stomach churn, you leaned up to press a lingering kiss to Mat’s jaw. Then you pressed another kiss to his neck, and another further down at the base of his throat. With each kiss you pressed to his skin, the feeling subsided more.

When you detached your lips from his skin and sat up, you heard him let out a discontent hum. With his eyes closed, he wasn’t aware of the adoration in your eyes as you looked down at him. You studied everything about his face; the slight pink coloring on his cheeks despite it almost being summertime, the downward curve on the bridge of his nose, and how he somehow still had a slight smile on his face when he wasn’t awake.

A satisfied silent sigh passed through your lips as your index finger trailed across his silver chain. The jewelry felt cold on your fingertips, but with the way Mat still had a hand holding onto yours, your whole body burned like a furnace. Unable to resist the pull you felt toward him any longer, you leaned down and pressed an innocent kiss to his lips. You lifted your head up, pulling your lips away from his, but Mat brought his free hand to gently lay on your cheek as he lifted his head up slightly to bring you back into a kiss.

It was soft, delicate, and reminded you of the first kiss you shared after your second date outside of his car when he dropped you off in front of your house.

With his thumb caressing your cheek, his fingers curled around your neck to bring your lips closer to his. And as you smiled into the kiss, he slowly lifted himself up until he was properly sitting. You pulled away from the kiss again, not wanting to get carried away while in public, but Mat followed your lips and kissed them one last time.

Your hand that was on his shoulder slowly inched toward the back of his neck where you played with the ends of his hair. He leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “Wanna get pizza?”

You threw your head back in laughter and Mat dropped his head into the crook of your neck, wrapping an arm around your waist for a hug. Leaning into the hug, you continued to thread your fingers through his hair, “Yeah, pizza sounds good.”

“Good,” Mat pressed a featherlight kiss under your jaw as he unwound his arms from around you to stand up. He reached a hand out for you, and with a smile, you placed your hand in his as he pulled you up.

Once on your feet, he tugged on your arm so that you were pressed flat against his chest, caught in another hug. Never one to deny any of his hugs, you wrapped your arms around his waist as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. His arms were strong and his body felt warm. You melted into his touch like you had for the past five––almost six––years.

But then his stomach grumbled, and you leaned away from him with an amused smile on your face, “Pizza?”

Mat smiled back down at you and nodded, “Pizza,” he said matter of factly as he unwrapped his arms from you and began to fold up the blanket.

When he had the blanket draped over his arm, he reached his hand out again for you to take. Happily, you slid your hand into his, as the two of you began to walk through the park to a pizza place down the street.

The pace of your walk was slow. Normally you wouldn’t mind a slow pace, but it was making the unknown and unwelcome feeling creep back up in your stomach. The feeling seeped through every crevice of your body as Mat recounted a story of how he almost got hit in the face with a puck at practice. And the feeling wedged itself deeper and deeper into the middle of your chest until you arrived at the pizza place.

“Your eyes look pretty today,” Mat offhandedly said as the two of you slid into a table after ordering.

You tilted your head, shoulders instantly relaxing at the sound of his voice, as a soft smile slowly made its way onto your face that was brighter than the sun the two of you just sat under.

You propped your elbows up on the table, resting your chin on your hands, as you looked at the love of your life with nothing but fascination, “Your eyes always look pretty.”

Mat reciprocated your beaming smile.

And the unknown feeling vanished.

–––

The spring air dwindled away and the crisp air of autumn slowly began to replace the weather associated with new beginnings. Even though the seasons changed, the heaviness in your chest you felt in May was still present in September. No matter what you did, or who you spent time with, the feeling continued to grow until it latched onto your deepest insecurities. And it wasn’t until you had an honest conversation with your best friend that she told you the feeling was anxiety.

Anxiety.

What did you have to be anxious about? What was so terrible in your life that made you nauseous in the mornings, kept you up until the late hours of the night, and had you constantly bouncing your leg up and down while sitting? Your life had been going exactly according to plan––exactly how you thought you wanted it to go. All you wanted was for it to disappear, but you couldn’t pinpoint what made you anxious. Which made it hard to try and control the feeling.

But there was one thing you did that proved successful in making the anxiety subside.

With your bare chest pressed up against Mat’s, his fingertips slightly digging into the skin of your hips, you rested your head in the crook of his neck as you inhaled a sharp breath. You had just experienced a shuddering orgasm on his lap, but he wasn’t quite finished.

Mat wrapped an arm around your body and flipped you over. You opened your eyes briefly to see him crawling up your body, adjusting himself in this new position. With raised eyebrows, he offered you a soft smile. And after you gave him verbal confirmation you wanted him again, he nudged your legs apart and guided himself in. You hadn’t fully recovered from the previous act of shared intimacy, but that didn’t matter to you.

The only thing that mattered was getting rid of the tortuous feeling that consumed you.

But when your hips met, and you heard Mat inhale a sharp breath, the feeling lessened.

You always looked forward to that––Mat’s breathless smile when your pelvic bones first connected in a deep thrust. There were other things, too. You knew things about Mat that nobody else knew. Like how Mat always crinkled his nose when he first became aroused. How his biceps were especially ticklish if you dragged your fingertips across them. How it drove him crazy when you would wrap your legs around him, hooking him in to pull him closer. Or how Mat would press a lingering kiss to your cheek when he was perilously close to the edge.

And it was that last movement that brought you out of your head––Mat pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek.

With a ragged breath, you trailed a hand up his arm––skipping his biceps––and curled an arm around his neck. Your fingers delicately moved up his neck as you weaved your fingers through his hair, and then slowly let your hand drag to the side of his face; cupping his cheek. And with a series of quick, deep thrusts with Mat on top, was all it took for your walls to clench around him as you lost your breath momentarily.

As you rode out the high of your orgasm, Mat was close behind. With a few more thrusts, you knew he released when his movements slowed down with a few snaps of his hips. After he inhaled a deep breath and released it through his nose, Mat rested his forehead against yours and then opened his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered unintelligibly while trying to catch his breath.

You rubbed your thumb over his cheek, “I love you, too.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, nuzzling his head into the palm of your hand, before a shy smile broke through. With a gentle peck to your lips, Mat rolled off you and quickly disposed of the condom before rolling back into bed.

When Mat was back at your side, he propped himself up with his elbow and stared down at you. Shuffling a bit down the pillow, you pulled the sheets up to your neck and peered up at him. With his free hand, he took one of your hands and lazily played with your fingers. He went from slowly moving his fingers between yours, to his fingertips leisurely moving from the bottom of your palm to the tips of your fingers. And when he had done that for a few moments, he started tracing the lines on the inside of your palm.

The only sound in the room was the two of you silently breathing; basking in each other's presence after a few moments of shared intimacy. Even in the silence, all you heard was him whispering I love you on repeat in your mind.

Every time he said those words to you felt like the first time. And even hearing the echo of them from your memory caused a scintillating smile to unashamedly grow on your face. You diverted your gaze from him playing with your hand to look at him.

Mat’s eyes were already focused on you.

His eyes were the first thing you fell in love with. You didn’t know if you fell in love with him when you were twelve years old; when his wide, nervous eyes offered you a stick and asked if you’d to join his team for street hockey. Or when you were nineteen; when his earnest eyes were bloodshot as he confided in you that he was scared of losing the connection of your relationship when he went to Seattle. No matter what emotion he held in his eyes, you always loved them.

And even now, his eyes were soft. His eyes were so full of love, but there was another emotion swimming around in his eyes that you had only seen before he asked you out; longing.

You didn’t know what he was longing for as he stared at you. A creased formed in between his eyes as he scrunched his eyebrows together. Removing the arm you had under the pillow, you raised your hand and rubbed the crease until his eyebrows relaxed. He offered you a small smile, but this smile was more one of concern rather than happiness.

Like you did earlier when Mat was on top of you, you trailed your fingers down his cheek until you cupped the side of his face with your palm. Slowly, you caressed his cheek with your thumb.

“Are you alright?” Mat whispered.

It was your turn for your eyebrows to scrunch together and a crease to form between them. And while you momentarily retracted your hand from his face, you snapped out of your shock, and moved your hand up to brush a piece of loose hair out of his face. The piece of hair didn’t stay in its place, so you pushed it back once more, as you tried to distract yourself from the growing feeling of anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

The piece of hair continued to fall in front of his forehead, so you focused all of your concentration on making sure it stayed away, “Of course I am, why?”

Mat shrugged his shoulders. And he took your hand that pushed his hair back and intertwined your fingers together, “You seem a little…off.”

You snorted, “We just had sex twice,” your facial expression held a serious look, but your tone of voice was teasing, “Are you complaining?”

Mat let out a breathy laugh as he squeezed your hand, “That’s not––That was incredible––Really really good––definitely not complaining,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I feel like I can say I know you better than anyone else, and…I don’t know.” His eyes dropped to your intertwined hands, and he tried his hardest to force a smile before looking back at you, “It feels like something’s been up the past few days.”

Few months, you wanted to correct him.

You shook your head, trying to ease both of your nerves, “I uh––I’m thinking of looking at grad schools?” you let the little white lie easily slip, “But I’m not seriously looking, it was just a thought.”

Mat playfully rolled his eyes, “Knew something was up,” he brought your connected hands up to his lips to press a reassuring kiss to the top of your hand, “If you do seriously consider grad school, you’re probably the most well off person to apply.” At his confidence in you, you tucked your chin into your chest.

“It’s just…” you inhaled a shaky breath, wanting to come clean about your unknowing anxiety, but something held you back, “I don’t know.”

Mat dropped your hand and slowly stroked the side of your face with the back of his hand, “It’s a lot to think about. But there are plenty of great schools in New York,” when his lips turned upward in a smile, you felt your stomach drop, “Whatever you want, we’ll figure it out together.” Mat pressed a kiss to your cheek, “We have all the time in the world.”

His voice, full of optimism, matched the hopefulness behind his eyes, and his smile finally met his eyes. And the longer you stared into his eyes, you saw a glint of something you had never seen before; devotion.

You don’t know when it happened, but you accepted the fact that you would marry Mat––spend the rest of your life with him. There was no lengthy discussion, but there seemed to be mutual acceptance. Mat always spoke so passionately about starting a family with you when he saw a toddler run around the park. And whenever you drove past a house you liked, you always made a passing comment about how nice it would be to raise a family with him.

You wondered when you started to feel so uncomfortable with the feeling of security.

–––

The month of September was slightly better, but not by much. The anxiety was still present and you kept Mat in the dark about everything. But it was difficult to confide in him when you didn’t even know the root of the problem. You couldn’t pinpoint the cause of anxiety, and you thought the feeling would disappear in June.

But it was now October and your anxiety had escalated to suffocation.

Suffocation.

It felt like there was a bag of twenty-pound rocks tied to your ankles and you were drowning. When you didn’t feel like you were drowning, you felt as if someone was smothering you with a pillow. And when you finally felt free from the smothering, it felt as though someone had cut off your air supply. But there was one thing that temporarily relieved the feeling of suffocation.

And it came with an acceptance email from Georgetown University in Washington D.C.

When you applied to a handful of universities to continue your education, you thought your anxiety was based around a fear of not excelling to your full potential. So, with that in mind, you took the little white lie you told Mat a few months ago and applied exclusively applied to grad schools only in New York City. But a program at Georgetown caught your eye and it was the only school outside of New York you applied to. You hoped for the best, but deep down you had a gut feeling the prestigious school in D.C. would reject you.

But when you received a fairly large envelope in the post, one that was not the size of a rejection letter, you felt a brief moment of freedom.

It is with great pleasure that we offer you admission…

You had read the opening line of the letter ten times before skimming the rest of the offer letter. The amount of confidence and pride you felt swell up in your chest was short lived. Because your new friend, suffocation, quickly swallowed up those feelings.

You had never considered moving out of New York––never considered moving away from Mat––but here you were, internally debating with yourself on whether you should take this offer seriously.

There was too much going on in your head––too much going on in the city––as you walked down the sidewalk. Every step you took toward your home felt like walking on a tightrope.

You had a university acceptance offer…Step one…The university was nearly 300 miles away from Mat…Step two…You had other university acceptance offers for school’s in New York…Step three…But the anxiety only grew when you received acceptance letters from schools in New York…Step four…And all of the anxiety went away with the D.C. offer…Step five…Does Mat have something to do with your anxiety––

You didn’t let yourself finish the last thought.

Mat was your person. There was not a chance the universe would play such a cruel trick on you. Life wasn’t fair, but life wouldn’t rip you away from Mat.

Right before you entered your apartment building, you dug out your phone and called your best friend. Once she picked up, you begged to spend the night at her place, saying you needed to get out of the city. She agreed, but you heard the curiosity behind her voice.

Knowing that mat would be waiting in your apartment, you hurriedly hung up before entering the elevator. The ride up was daunting, and the lights that blinked whenever you rose to a new floor felt as if they taunted you. They were yellow and bright, something you had not felt in quite some time, but the lights didn’t care as they flashed in your face.

When the doors parted open to your floor, you scurried out and opened the door to your apartment. You breezed right in before you changed your and decided to drive straight to Newark.

As expected, Mat sat slumped against the couch cushions as he pointed the remote at the television. He couldn’t seem to pick a channel that held his interest. When he heard the door open, he turned his head and you offered him a small wave as you set your bag on the floor.

“Good day?”

You shrugged your shoulders and walked over to sit next to Mat on the couch, “Average,” you leaned your head on his shoulder, “How was your day?”

Mat mimicked your shrug, “Just practice. Uneventful.”

You let out a snort, “What thrilling lives we live.”

That earned a loud laugh from Mat, “Exhilarating,” he leaned over and kissed your forehead, “So, for dinner? We have stuff to cook, but there’s this new place a few blocks over I thought we could try––”

Lifting your head up from his shoulder, you moved away from him slightly as you brought your legs up to your chest, quickly cutting him off, “I’m actually––I’m going to Newark tonight.”

A few awkward beats of silence passed before Mat spoke with a cracked voice, “Oh?”

Nodding, you leaned your chin on your knees, “Haven’t seen Melanie in a while,” you mentioned your best friend, “Just need to get out of the city for the night.”

“Everything alright?”

Mat’s voice was laced with hesitance, as if he didn’t know if he wanted an answer to his question.

You gulped and hugged your legs closer to your chest, “Yeah I––It’s a girl’s night. We just need to clear our heads.”

Mat nodded in understanding. He pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger, “Clear your head,” he repeated cautiously as if he sensed there was an ulterior motive. He closed his eyes, and after a few more beats of silence, he opened them. And you felt your heartstrings tug in your chest when you saw the amount of yearning behind his stare.

“That’s…” he cleared his throat, and nodded his head slowly, as he looked at the television, “good.”

He didn’t phrase his words as a question, but they weren’t a statement either. It was Mat convincing himself that you leaving the city was fine…That you were fine…That the relationship was fine.

To ease his doubts––because there was nothing in your life that you were more certain of than your love for him––you took his hand, “It’s just for one night.” Your voice didn’t waver, and you spoke with double the confidence, hoping to transfer some of it to the boy who sat across from you.

“No, yeah that’s fine,” Mat bit the inside of his cheek, “Time with your friends is good.”

Mat never verbally recognized the small rift forming between you two, but in this moment, you knew he could feel it more than ever. And when you felt him pull his hand away from yours, you panicked and squeezed his hand twice. It caught his attention, and you smiled at him, “We’ll try out the new place tomorrow night for dinner.”

There was a far off look in his eyes, but he nodded in agreement.

Mat only using the bare minimum to communicate with you drove you up a wall. You didn’t like how he avoided conversation, and you didn’t like the feeling in your stomach that came with it. He’s disappointed in you, a voice in your head spoke up, you’re leaving him alone when you know he doesn’t feel confident about your relationship––

In order to silence the voice in your head, you did the only thing that you knew would keep it quiet.

You leaned forward, gently placing both of your hands on Mat’s cheeks, and kissed him. At first when he didn’t kiss back, you feared that you wouldn’t be lucky this time around to quiet your insecurities. The toxic coping mechanism you fell into every time wasn’t working. Panic rose through your body fast, and just when you were about to give up hope, he kissed you back.

A sigh escaped your lips as Mat pressed a hand firmly to your lower back to pull you closer.

You needed to be closer.

His hands carefully held your waist as your hands traveled from the sides of his face to the nape of his neck.

You needed to feel closer.

He kissed you harder, hands creeping up your shirt as he was always one to crave skin-to-skin contact. You let your hands delicately move down his neck to his shoulders––lifting your touch on his skin to avoid his biceps––and let your hands fall onto his chest.

Closer.

You needed to physically feel as close as possible to Mat; because emotionally, you felt as far away from him as ever.

–––

The forty-five minute drive from Long Island to Newark was filled with songs from the shared Spotify playlist you had with Mat.

He created it when he first went off to play hockey in Seattle claiming it would be a fun way to stay updated with each other's lives. The playlist was full of songs that reminded either of you of each other, upbeat heavy rock songs that Mat listened to before a hockey game, or more mellow songs you heard in a coffee shop while studying.

Since Mat had started the tradition of creating a shared playlist each year, there was a new playlist for almost the entirety of your relationship. And on your lonesome drive to Newark, you pressed play on the playlist from 2015.

You left your apartment after a silent cuddle with Mat that lasted a few hours; legs tangled together, synchronized breathing, and featherlight touches. There was a moment where Mat removed his arms from your waist––he said he was cold––and asked if you had a sweatshirt he could borrow. Reluctantly, you got up and trudged to your room to look for a sweatshirt of his you once stole.

A black sweatshirt caught your eyes and you picked it up. The Seattle Thunderbirds logo printed on the front, you toyed with the hoodie strings, debating on if you wanted to give him his sweatshirt back. It was one of the first ones you sneakily stole from him in the beginning of your relationship. And as much as the sweatshirt was rightfully his, it had made a home in your drawer over the years.

Missing the way his arms felt wrapped around you, you walked back to the couch––Thunderbirds sweatshirt in hand––and offered it up to him. Mat quickly tugged it over his head, ruffling his hand through his already messed-up hair, and then pulled you down to lay next to him.

He left your apartment wearing the sweatshirt.

After replaying the memory of Mat walking out of your place with his sweatshirt, you found yourself at your best friend’s townhouse sooner than expected. She ushered you into her kitchen saying she was almost done boiling the kettle for tea.

The only words exchanged between the two of you so far was a greeting and barely there small talk. She didn’t push you as to why you frantically called her and begged for a night away from New York. But she anticipated that the conversation would come later in the night.

Once the teas were made to both of your likings, Melanie led you upstairs to her rooftop deck. A fond smile crossed your face as flashbacks from all the times the two of you had spent up here. The two of you had met in university, but she was a few years older than you, so she moved out of New York sooner than you.

Most of your deep conversations about Mat took place on this rooftop. From realizing you loved him on this rooftop to coming to terms that there was no one else you’d rather spend the rest of your life with… This rooftop held the realizations of multiple monumental moments of your relationship with Mat.

Next to the sectional couch the two of you sat on, Melanie lifted the lid of the wicker basket and plucked out two blankets. You quickly wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, bracing your body against the frigid air.

As Melanie adjusted the blanket over her shoulders, she spoke up, “Everything alright?”

You took a sip of tea, keeping your vision set straight ahead, “Yeah, I’m alright––it’s just…” you glanced over at her to see she had her eyes raised, silently telling you to rethink your answer, “I don’t know.”

Shoulders slumped over in defeat, you took another sip of tea.

“I think you’re far from fine,” Melanie chuckled, “Got a call from my best friend panicking about how she had to get away,” her voice waned off amusement and turned more serious, “You worried me.”

You nodded in understanding, “Sorry, I didn’t think––Sorry––It’s just everything…” you nervously itched your collarbone and let out a sigh, “Sorry.”

Melanie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Never apologize for what you’re feeling,” her eyes were soft, and full of concern, as she weakly smiled and headed carefully with her words, “Even if you don’t…know what you’re feeling.”

“I got accepted to Georgetown,” you blurted out as you kept your eyes trained on the ground.

Her eyes widened, and a genuine smile spread across her face, “That’s––Shit, congratulations! That’s so exciting! D.C.…Wow.”

With a slow nod of your head, you took a sip of your tea, “D.C.”

A brief silence in conversation revealed everything Melanie needed to know about why you suddenly had to escape from the city.

“Mat doesn’t know?”

You repeated her question as a statement, “Mat doesn’t know,” breaking eye contact with her again, you swallowed down your insecurities, “While like––I don’t know––That’s not why I’m…upset.” Melanie nodded and waited for you to continue your explanation, “Things have been…off.”

“Off? As in recently?” Melanie questioned as you stayed silent. With a deep sigh, she whispered, “How long have things felt off?”

You gulped, “May.”

Melanie’s eyes widened again, but not in the joyous sense like they had when you told her about your graduate school acceptance. Her eyebrows were raised high and her mouth slightly dropped open, “Shit, Y/N, it’s November.’

Again, you nodded and took another sip of tea, “It is November.”

“You’re going to have to do more talking than repeat the last words of every sentence I say.”

The words weren’t meant to be harsh, but her tone of voice still caused you to flinch. Her sentence was the truth, and you didn’t come here to be coddled. You needed someone to be brutally honest with you to help bring you to a conclusion. And you knew you had to offer up more information, or else your little one-night escape away from the city would be pointless.

“I feel stuck,” you breathed out, the last word barely a whisper, as you felt your throat close up, “I feel stuck and I’ve felt this way since May. I don’t know why I feel like this and I really don’t know what to fucking do, Mel. I––I’m so scared.”

Melanie scooted closer to you, “Stressed about potentially going back to school?”

You shook your head immediately. The thought of going back to school was the only thing keeping you sane at the moment. You couldn’t wait to expand upon another area of study that interested you. And you had been feeling this way long before you entertained the idea of going back to school.

“Everything is going so so well with Mat and…I don’t know…I’m happy with how things are now, but––“

“You’re obviously not happy if you can’t talk to him about this,” Melanie cut you off sharply before she inhaled a deep breath, “Maybe you need some change.”

You quirked an eyebrow up and tilted your head, “Change?”

She nodded and offered you a regretful smile; one that people had tucked away for when they had to break not so pleasant news to people they cared about, “Change from…how your life has been going.”

You continued to blankly stare at her as the dots didn’t connect in your mind. Melanie took your silence as a way to continue on with her explanation.

“Maybe D.C. is a great opportunity to start over.”

Suddenly, the crickets that chirped on her rooftop blared like alarms, the blanket you had on felt itchy, and the bitter autumn air smelt stale.

“Start…Over?” You shook your head no as Melanie nodded her head yes, “I have a life built around Mat and a––I have a future with him––That’s not––I can’t––“

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Melanie,” you pleaded with your best friend as the scratchiness behind your throat became uncomfortable, “I can’t do that to him––“

She held up a hand for you to stop talking, “You’ve been with mat since you were like twenty––“

“Eighteen,” you corrected her.

She shot you a glare and pretended like she wasn’t interrupted, “You were children when your relationship started,” she waved her free hand in the air, “There’s no denying that you’ve had a great relationship with him. The two of you have grown so much together, but sometimes things get stuck in a routine and people need a change.” You felt a lone tear trickle down your cheek, “Maybe you need a change.”

You carefully set your tea down on the glass patio table as all of the negative thoughts and feelings ventured out of their hiding places. One by one, they creeped out of every corner––no crevice too small––of your mind, as your subconscious tortured you with the lethal words they created.

With the heel of your palm, you wiped away more silent tears that couldn’t stop falling from your eyes.

Change was something you didn’t handle well. Change was something you’ve never liked. Your heart was saying that this kind of change––a change from Mat was bad––but your heart was screaming. Your heart was screaming about how exhausted it always felt suffocated. Your heart was telling you that there was another way. That you didn’t have to feel like this all the time––how you shouldn’t feel like this all the time.

You wanted to ignore how your heart felt and listen to your head. You wanted to ignore the heartbreaking gaze Melanie sent your way. And most of all, you wanted to ignore how your best friend had a very valid opinion.

You craved Mat’s presence now more than ever.

–––

November ended painfully slow and December came without a care for your feelings.

In the midst of juggling your job, figuring out technicalities that potentially came with continuing your education down in D.C., and keeping up with Mat’s hockey schedule…You were also trying to stabilize a relationship that you desperately clung on to.

Ever since your roof top conversation with Melanie, you felt the relationship crumbling on your end. And only a couple weeks later, Mat seemed hesitant around you. Every touch he gave you held doubt. Every night you went to bed, he shifted further to the other side. And every I love you was said with caution.

He was there physically, but emotionally, he was pulling away right before your eyes.

You loathed the situation that you had created for yourself and Mat. You absolutely hated how you no longer synced up. You wanted to go back to the way things were before the summer hit. You craved the smell of the spring air that was synonymous to the safety you felt in Mat’s presence.

Although, you don’t know how possible that was now.

Change.

Melanie nonchalantly brought up the topic of change whenever you called or saw her in person. She reassured you that she would support your decision––whenever you came to one––but she still favored the decision of change for you. She had your best interest at heart, and while you appreciated that, your best interest was entangled with Mat.

And you knew that the decision she wanted you to make was not in his best interest.

But there was one day in the past seven months that felt normal.

At work, you were offered a promotion. And that same night, the Islanders had their seventh straight win, with Mat scoring a hat trick. You walked out of your director’s office with a smile on your face, and you snuck down to the lobby to call Mat with the good news. He sounded ecstatic for you over the phone, and he asked if you wanted to go to the game tonight so he could see you right after.

Eagerly, you accepted his offer, and you felt butterflies churn in your stomach as if it was the first time he asked you to attend one of his games.

You rushed to get all of your work done as fast as possible, and a few minutes before the clock struck five, you dashed out of the office and made your way to the arena. The game felt electric, Mat played with a sense of newfound desire, and you were ecstatic for him to be playing so well. And when the game was over, and Mat walked out in his game day suit––jacket folded over his arm and tie loosely done––you barreled into him.

Mat hugged you back just as tight, if not tighter, and his reassuring touch reestablished a sense of purpose in your life.

“I’m so proud of you,” Mat whispered in your ear, congratulating you on your promotion, “I’ll love you forever.”

That day filled you with hope.

That day made you smile wider than you had in the last few months. It was a light finally shining through the dreary storm clouds. And that day helped you gain clarity as to what sort of change you needed in your life.

You decided that change was needed if you wanted to keep sane. And you had come to the compromise that you could have a change and still keep Mat. All you needed was a change of scenery. You didn’t know why you thought you needed an ultimatum between the two, and it eased your troubles a little bit, but not nearly as much as you thought it would.

The day after your promotion and Mat’s hat trick, you woke up with your legs tangled with Mat’s, his arm thrown over your waist, and his face facing yours for the first time in months. It was so domestic, something you took for granted early on in your relationship, but once you had it back in your grasp, you never wanted to let go.

But the moment you woke up, his arm around your waist felt like an anchor aiding in your drowning. While it felt as if you were drowning, you also felt safe in Mat’s arms, as if he lent you a hand for rescue. Mat always made you feel safe.

Unfortunately, that was a week ago. And you hadn’t woken up in his arms since then.

Ironically, even though both of you knew something was wrong, Mat had been spending more time at your apartment than his. But the dynamic between you two had shifted: Mat no longer came up to hug you from behind when you cooked at the stove. You no longer pinched Mat’s hips as he walked past you. And the two of you blushed profusely and looked the other way whenever you saw the other in a towel after a shower.

Things had been off emotionally for quite some time. But now physical aspects of your relationship were changing, and a piece fo your heart broke off every time you noticed it.

You wanted change, but not like this.

You were at the small table in your kitchen, waiting for Mat to come back to you. He mumbled about heading to the gym with Tito when the two of you were sitting next to each other on the couch. He tied his laces up, and it looked like he was about to walk toward the door before he turned back around and stood in front of you.

Like every time you stared up at Mat, you fell in love with him all over again.

He offered you the smallest of smiles before bending down to your height. Carefully, he cupped your face with his hand, and you immediately leaned into his touch. A peaceful sigh escaped your lips and your eyes closed.

What caught you off guard the most was when Mat leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. And just when your eyes opened, he broke away from the kiss. When his eyes finally opened, they were pleading with you. His eyes begged for an answer you could not give him. His eyes urgently wanted for you to tell him what had flipped your entire world upside down.

But his eyes were also full of love and hope; unconditional love for his high school sweetheart and hope that the two of you could make it over this bump.

“I love you,” he whispered just as soft as the first time he said those words to you, “I won’t be long.”

Desperate for more physical contact from him, you weaved your fingers through his brown hair. You knew how much he loved when you massaged his scalp and ran your fingers through his hair. Instantaneously, his eyes closed, and he leaned forward to brush his nose against yours.

You didn’t want him to go to the gym with Tito.

And like the first day you repeated those important three words back to him, your voice was filled with the same enchantment for the man in front of you, “I love you, too.”

With a sigh, Mat opened his eyes. With the way his eyebrows pinched together, you could tell he was intently debating something in his mind. But before you could pry, he seemed to go against his better judgement and pressed another kiss to your lips. While the kiss wasn’t anything special, he lingered longer than his first kiss.

“I’ll be back soon,” he breathed out softly.

He left before you could open your eyes.

Part of you didn’t want to open your eyes because the last thing you saw––that would be ingrained in your brain forever––was the person you appreciated and cared for most in the world, telling you he loved you. There was no better high in the world than that, especially when you had felt deprived from his love for so long.

But that was six hours ago.

You hoped he would only be gone for two or three hours, but your hope dwindled away with every hour that passed.

You were messing around with your laptop when you heard a key in the door handle. And when you heard the creak of your door open, you held your breath. You felt the inside of your stomach fall and the anxiety crawl up.

Once you looked up from your keyboard, you saw Mat already staring at you.

His cheeks were rosy, lips parted ever so slightly as he heavily breathed, and his forehead glistened with sweat. He held the water bottle in his hands as he stared through you. The way he looked at you was unnerving, and you wish you were able to read his mind.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His voice held conviction as he refocused his gaze to look at you instead of through you.

Slowly, you closed your laptop as Mat walked toward you. He placed the water bottle on the table and looked down at your doe eyed, questioning gaze, “I love you, but I need to know what’s wrong.”

“What––“

“I know you feel it too,” the determination and confidence behind his voice fell, “It’s been a few months and I can’t––we can’t––this?” his voice cracked, “We need to figure it out.”

You sniffled and started to nervously pick at a loose piece of skin by your thumb. Your eyes fell to your lap, not wanting to see the utter heartbreak in his eyes, “Let’s––Yeah. Let’s talk, okay.”

Mat crouched down in front of you, and took one of your fidgety hands in his, “Hey,” he used his other hand to tilt your chin up to look at him, “It’s just me…The guy who accidentally shattered your car window junior year when shooting a puck because I wanted to impress you,” he let out a sad chuckle, “Just…Me.”

You sucked in a deep breath, vigorously nodding your head, in hopes to delay your tears, “I know––And I––That’s what makes this so…” You let out a hiccup and squeezed your eyes shut just as hard as Mat squeezed your hand in reassurance, “Hard.”

Before a sob wracked through your chest, Mat was fast to stand up and pull you up with him, wrapping his arms around you. You fell into his chest and he held you close, running a soothing hand up and down your spine. He whispered that everything would be alright, but your arms only tightened around his neck as your sobs increased with his careful words.

After a few moments when your cries slowly started to calm down, Mat slightly leaned back, but made sure to keep his arms securely wrapped around you. He lazily traced patterns with his thumb on your lower back, which caused you to look up at him.

With all your heart, you wished you didn’t look into his eyes. Because seeing his red eyes and heart-rending smile caused you more pain than the last seven months.

He brought a hand up to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes with his thumb, “There’s my pretty girl,” he sniffled and failed at forcing a smile, “So pretty.”

You felt your bottom lip tremble, another wave of fresh tears waiting to be seen. And when Mat loosened his grasp around your waist, you looked up at him in panic. You didn’t want to be separated from him, but he shushed you, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to keep you close as he guided you over to the couch.

Much like earlier in the day, the two of you sat on the couch together. But instead of laying together on the couch, he sat next to you.

With your thighs touching, Mat grasped your hand in his, “Talk to me,” his grip was so tight, it felt like he was afraid you would slip away right in front of him, “Please.”

You nodded your head again, but no words came out.

How were you supposed to start off this kind of conversation?

Mat squeezed your hand in reassurance, and before you began to overthink about the best way to phrase your feelings, you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I feel anxious,” you let out a shaky breath.

Mat slowly nodded, squeezing your hand again as a silent way to encourage you to continue.

And with a deep breath, you shut your eyes tight, “I feel anxious and stuck––Almost like––I feel like I have no control over anything and it––I think––I need, uh, a change.”

Your words strung together in one rushed out sentence. And as your rambling continued on, your words grew softer and softer until your voice barely carried above a whisper. But the last word––change––echoed loudly in the room. The word was deafeningly loud, and Mat didn’t miss a beat.

“Change…”

The one syllable word sounded foreign coming from his lips. He repeated the word for a second time to make sure he heard you right.

Change.

In a sense, change was ever present in your relationship. There was change when you and Mat first grew out of being friends to more…Change when Mat left for Seattle to play hockey…and change again when Mat got drafted by the Islanders.

Change was almost a constant in your relationship; but the change was always prompted from Mat’s end. There had never been any expressed desire for change on your side.

“What do you want a change from?” Mat’s tone was daring, almost as if he wanted you to make his worst nightmare a reality.

“I––There’s this whole––“

“What,” he didn’t mask the viciousness in his voice, “do you want a change from.”

His voice was demanding, and not at all like the sweet sound that comforted you moments ago. You knew him well enough to know he was growing irritated at you, and you knew it would only get worse.

“I got into a masters program––in D.C.,” you rushed out, and in hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best response to reassure his insecurities, but you needed to get that information out there, “And it’s––it sounds so great, Mat. Like really great, and––“

He removed his hand from yours in a swift motion, as if he touched fire, “You’re leaving?”

“That’s not–––“

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?” His eyes shined with hurt and disappointment, but most of all, you could hear the distrust behind his voice, “D.C.?”

You sighed, “I never seriously considered it until last month.”

Mat closed his eyes, no doubt in frustration that you didn’t confide your feelings in him earlier, “You’ve been feeling like you need a change for the past month?” Your silence caused him to flare his nostrils, and edged him on to ask another question, “Since when––Why––How long have you felt this way?”

You gulped, averting your eyes to look at his knees, “I don’t want anything between us to change, Mat,” you spoke carefully, “I was thinking––“

“How long?”

“May.”

You screwed your eyes tight to the point where you felt a stunning sensation in your forehead. You couldn’t bring yourself to look in his eyes, that no doubt would be filled to the brim with pain. And you avoided his stare that bored you for as long as you could.

But when you felt the couch cushion next to you feel lighter, you snapped your eyes open and up to look at Mat.

Mat backed away from the couch, and there was nothing you could have done to prepare yourself for the look of betrayal in his eyes, “May?” Gnawing at your bottom lip, you nodded. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head in disbelief, “How could you not tell me––Christ, seven months?” Y/N…” his voice cracked as he said your name.

It killed you to see his jaw clenched and eyes rimmed with redness; and seeing his eyes overflow with heartbreak caused you to shoot up from your seat to comfort him. But what killed you even more was how he flinched away from your touch. Nothing in the world could prepare you for that sting.

All you wanted was to comfort him.

“Mat––“

He inhaled a deep breath and sniffled, “Please, don’t…” he brought both hands up to face, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, “You want to leave?”

He couldn’t even look at you.

Unfair to you, his question held two sides. He was asking for clarification about wanting to leave New York, but also asking if you wanted to leave him. To Mat, leaving New York meant leaving him.

Your arms hung limp at your sides, mouth wide open in shock. You understood his confusion about wanting to leave New York because you had never mentioned it before. But your despair quickly turned into irritation as he verbalized his doubt of your love for him.

“You know I’d never leave you,” you said with a deep breath, trying your best to keep your anger at bay.

He ripped his hands away from his face, “Do I?” He sent you a glare that had you stumbling back, “Because we had this whole plan for us. And now you don't want that with me.”

“I still want that with you!” You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation, “Grad school goes faster than undergrad. We’ve done long distance before, and my job said they could transfer me––“

“You already have a job here!” Mat raised his voice, “There are places to go to grad school here! You have a place here! You have friends here––“

You raised your voice over his, “That’s not the point, please just––“

“You have me here!” His voice cracked, “We had a plan––“

“Plans change!”

Mat had his mouth open, ready to shout over you more, but once your ambiguous statement traveled from the confines of your thoughts and slipped out of your lips, he had no response. You could feel the anger radiating off him as the ringing in your ears grew louder…and louder…and louder…

“Plans don’t just change like that,” he venomously spat out. His words hit you like icicles, cold and sharp before his tone momentarily softened, “I had my life built around you…We––I wanted to marry you. Start a family with you.”

He spoke as if all of those desires he had with you were now a far off fantasy.

You pinched the bridge of your nose to stop a new wave of tears from falling. But these tears weren’t of fear for his reaction to your thoughts about change, he made those feelings loud and clear.

These were tears of mourning.

“Mat,” you spoke his name with a strained voice, “Let’s talk about this rationally––“

He ran a hand through his and narrowed his eyes at you, “Don’t…” he raised his forearm to wipe more tears away from his face, “I can’t believe––I really thought we had it all from the beginning. But who would have actually thought two teenagers would make it this far?”

He let out a soft, maniacal chuckle that made you more nauseous than any amount of anxiety.

“We were just children back then,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “What did we know about life.”

His anger morphed into a cynical tone that sent shivers down your spine. It frightened you when he let out that small laugh, one that was usually saved for comical moments between the two of you.

“But here we are now,” he let out another self-deprecating laugh, “Time’s a funny thing…It seemed like nothing back then––It felt as if we had the rest of our lives together.”

As much as you didn’t want to hear Mat break down everything about your relationship, you knew he was spiraling, and you wanted to help him. Because despite what he may think, you still loved him.

Carefully, you tiptoed forward as Mat continued on with his rambling about how idiotic he was as a kid to think that this would last forever. With each step forward, your heart shattered into the tiniest of shards as Mat portrayed your relationship as childish with no chance of reconciliation.

“You just took my love,” his voice decreased in volume and cynicism, and was replaced with a tone that ripped your heart out of your chest. He pointed an accusatory finger at you that made you stop in your tracks, “You took my love––you took it and have no remorse whatsoever––“

You shook your head and picked up the pace of your walking to reach him, “I still love you, Mat. That will never change.”

He stared down at you, and for a moment, you saw the Mat you fell in love with. You saw the bright-eyed eighteen-year-old boy who took his time in teaching you how to shoot a perfect slapshot in his driveway. He looked like he was on the verge of forgiveness, but once you slightly ghosted your fingers against his hand, he snapped out of whatever trance he fell under.

“I don’t know how to love anyone else,” his shoulders slumped forward as he bit his bottom lip.

Without caring that he pulled his hand away from yours seconds ago, you swiftly took his hand in his and gripped it as if you were hanging off a cliff and he was your only lifeline. You didn’t know if it was a moment of bravery, or a moment of desperation. Because there was a nagging thought in the back of your mind that screamed about how this could be the last time you touched him.

“You don’t have to love anyone else,” you pleaded with him, your voice catching in your throat as tears welled up in your eyes, “I don’t want you to love anyone else.”

“Time’s a funny thing,” Mat let out a humorous chuckle, not believing that the two of you found yourself desperately clinging onto the past.

When he finally made eye contact with you, he slightly tilted his head as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Even when he was crying, his dark eyes still captivated you like no one else had. And the longer you stared into his longing eyes, they were filled with one emotion you weren’t familiar with; regret.

“Mat,” you whispered his name cautiously, petrified of what his next move was, “We can work through this…”

He slowly shook his head, causing your heart to plummet, “May…From what I’ve gathered, you hadn’t applied to grad schools then––Didn’t have an excuse for change,” he stalled back more of his tears, “But you wanted a change. You still want that change.”

“I want a change of scenery,” you tried your hardest to make him understand your feelings, “Not a change from you.”

“The only thing back then you could’ve wanted a change from was me,” it was the first time his voice didn’t falter. He was confident in his theory that you didn’t want him anymore.

You squeezed his hand, “Are you even listening to yourself––“

“You’re the love of my life,” his voice was full of pain, and when he softly smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. With one hand still clutching onto yours, he brought his other hand up––a trembling hand––and tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear, “I just wish I was yours.”

With a shakey inhale, and one last strong sniffle to conceal his sobs, Mat pressed a firm kiss to your forehead. And when released your hand one last time, he escaped out the door.

You had felt many sensations throughout the past seven months: drowning, feeling weighed down, and suffocation. But what you felt right now, the devastation that encased your whole body, was far worse than any of those emotions.

Because now, it felt as if you were falling.

Mat, your only lifeline, let go of your hand.

He knew he held the power to pull you up and save you, but he decided to let you go. When he released your grip, it felt as if he was releasing it finger by finger, desperately wanting to hold onto what you both had; wanting to hold onto the life both of you had created around one another. But in the end, it didn’t survive.

And as he released your hand, you fell.

You fell over the edge, stomach performing backflips as the sensation became worse with each passing second. The sensation of falling was never ending, as if you were falling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland; terrified of what waited for you at the bottom.

The December air felt frigid. The December air made one seek comfort in hot chocolate, or another menial item, because winter wasn’t strong enough to provide comfort. The December air felt nothing like the spring air that offered you solace without asking for anything in return.

Oh, how you wished to smell that spring air once more.

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal oneshot #mat barzal writing #mathew barzal fic #mathew barzal oneshot #mat barzal angst #mathew barzal writing #mathew barzal angst #nhl imahine #nhl writing #mat barzal new york islanders #mathew barzal new york islanders

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sometimesbeforeitgetsbetter · 3 years

Text

Off the Record | Stiles Stilinski

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader

Summary: High school in Beacon Hills, as told through the eyes of one inquisitive journalist who has a knack at getting on Stiles Stilinski's nerves.

Warnings: idk there's like a couple curse words lmao. also, spoilers? if you haven't finished teen wolf I guess??

Word count: 8,227

A/N: hi hi this is my first fic I'm posting on Tumblr (not to say that this is my first fic ever...anyway)! before you start, I just wanna say that there's a couple things that might be off from the show but please just ignore them. like I think it's bs Lydia brings Stiles back and not Scott in 6b so I righted that wrong. but I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think of it! thanks for reading!!

All my life I’ve wondered why people didn’t question what happens in Beacon Hills.

It’s no secret that our town is unusual, but when odd things seemed to happen, people would just turn a blind eye and go about their business.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t let it go. I was inquisitive by nature, and my mom never knew how to answer my questions.

Why do we have so many animal attacks?

What happened to the people that disappeared in the Preserve?

Why did his eyes glow like that?

That last question almost caused my mom to get me a therapist – which probably would’ve helped me regardless – but she just continued to answer with her usual responses.

They just feel threatened by us, dear.

They’re in a better place now.

I’m sure it was nothing – you probably just saw some reflection in his eyes.

But no matter what she told me, I wasn’t satisfied. I knew there was something bigger going on, something my mom couldn’t explain, but I wasn’t sure what. As I got older, however, I realized that if I kept voicing my concerns, I’d be seen as the local crazy person – which, at the time, was the title reserved for my neighbor, Donna Romano, who always went to Town Hall meetings to complain about how some supernatural creatures were traumatizing her dogs every time she took them out at night to urinate.

Out of fear of sounding like Donna, I kept my suspicions to myself. I observed the strange actions of those around me and kept note of the bizarre events that happened in town. I found that it was something I was good at – observing. Always watching, but never voicing my opinions. Eventually, it got the best of me because I grew really quiet at school. But I didn’t mind. I liked being a wallflower.

One day in the fifth grade I saw my mom reading the Beacon Chronicle and I had an epiphany – journalists investigate weird, inexplicable events, so I should be a journalist. Reading the news became my favorite pastime, and by sixth grade I decided I would join the high school newspaper, The Daily Beacon, when I became a freshman. I figured maybe it would give me an outlet to investigate the odd occurrences in the town without looking like a lunatic.

But in sixth grade, I noticed that some of the odd things had stopped happening. There were less animal attacks and disappearances from the Preserve. Some people had even left town, including the last of the Hales, whose house had burned down that same year.

I didn’t give up hope though. I kept my head down and waited for things to get weird again. In the meantime, I wrote for enjoyment. In eighth grade I started shadowing a girl named Anna that was a part of the Daily Beacon, and I started writing articles – album reviews, movie reviews, school news.

Everything was going smoothly until my sophomore year of high school. Suddenly the weird things were happening, and I was sure that there was one person that was at the epicenter of it all – Scott McCall.

“...Angela, you’re covering the new faculty; Thomas, you’ve got the new Vegan Support Group club some juniors just created; and y/n, you’re covering lacrosse try-outs,” said Andrew, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Beacon.

I groaned slightly. “Andrew, couldn’t I write something a little bit more...my style? Like what about the one freshman class that boycotted their summer reading and is facing suspension?”

He gave me a slight look. “y/n, you know how important this lacrosse piece is. You know what that sport means to the school. You should be glad I’m giving you this opportunity,” he scolded. “Besides, Marlene is covering that class and is already interviewing their teacher.”

I nodded slowly and tried to refrain from rolling my eyes. I knew that Andrew meant well – he had been like an older brother to me ever since my freshman year – and he was right about the importance of lacrosse. I stayed quiet until he dismissed us, then mentally prepared myself to spend my afternoon watching some jocks exude machismo on a field.

When my last class was over, I walked over to the lacrosse field and found myself a spot on the top of the bleachers. It gave me an excellent vantage point – until a couple girls sat down right in front of me. The redhead I recognized to be Lydia Martin, the school’s resident popular girl. We’d been in class together all our lives, but I couldn’t remember a time she ever talked to me. I’m sure she didn’t even know I existed, just like the majority of the other people in our grade. The other girl, however, I didn’t recognize. I found out her name was Allison by overhearing their conversation. She was new and must have just moved to Beacon Hills.

The shrill sound of Coach’s whistle knocked me out of my thoughts. Tryouts started, and I watched as Scott McCall, a boy from my grade, was nearly knocked out by a lacrosse ball to the face. I winced but wrote down the event in the notebook I had out for documentation.

The next ball that went Scott’s way didn’t hit his face though. He managed to catch it in his goalie net. I couldn’t help but be a bit surprised – like Lydia, I’d known of Scott my whole life though he probably didn’t know me at all. But that meant I knew he was an asthmatic that wasn’t particularly skilled at sports.

“He’s actually pretty good,” I mumbled to myself as Scott continued to catch every ball that came his way.

I didn’t realize how loud I must’ve said it though because at my remark Allison turned around. “I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, obviously surprised. “Do you know him?”

I shook my head and quickly turned my attention to my notebook to write down the surprising turn of events. “Are you writing about this for the school newspaper?” I looked back up at Allison’s question. She was paying attention to me?

“Um, yeah, I am. I’d rather not write about sports, but here I am,” I joked lightly.

She let out a beautiful laugh at my statement. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I’m Allison, and you are…?”

“y/n,” I answered. “Nice to meet you, Allison.” Suddenly the crowd roared, and I remembered why I was there. Allison, too, smiled and turned her attention back to the game. Lydia hadn’t said a word, but she was focused on watching Scott absolutely demolish Jackson Highmore, who, in my opinion, needed to be knocked down a few pegs anyway.

The more I watched Scott though, I got this weird feeling. He was good – too good. I tried to ignore my feelings and just focus on writing notes for the ridiculous lacrosse piece, which would include the headline: “Sophomore Scott McCall shines at lacrosse tryouts and becomes team co-captain.” But deep down I knew there was something up with him.

A few days later, I was sitting behind Stiles Stilinski, Scott’s best friend, in English class. Even though I’d had nearly all of my classes with him, we never talked. It originally was because I had a minor crush on him and was afraid I’d pass out if I spoke to him, but eventually it just morphed into me not speaking to many people and being convinced he didn’t know of my existence anyway.

But this one day, I was committed to speaking with him. I had to know what was going on, and if there was one person that knew anything about Scott’s new-found lacrosse talent, it was Stiles.

“Hey, Stiles,” I spoke up from behind him.

The brunette turned around, slightly confused but with that soft smile on his face. “Oh, hey, y/n. What’s up?”

I swear my heart stopped beating for a second. He knew my name? He knew who I was? I shook myself out of my thoughts before I went down the rabbit hole of the implications of him knowing me.

“Oh, nothing much. I’m just writing a piece about lacrosse tryouts for the school newspaper and I was just wondering if you had anything to say about it,” I explained.

He tilted his head slightly and shifted in his seat to more fully face me. “Um, yeah sure. I think it’s going to be a great season, especially since we’ve gotten some new leadership. My boy Scott’s co-captain now, so those Devenford Prep guys won’t know what hit them!”

“Speaking of Scott, when did he get so good at lacrosse? Would you say it’s natural talent?” I pressed a bit, hoping he’d say something that would give me a hint as to what was going on.

Stiles’ eyes squinted a little, and his head tilted slightly again. He seemed to be at a loss for words, which was unusual for the fast-talking, sarcastic boy, but he quickly recovered. “It’s definitely...natural...talent. He’s been working extra hard recently to hone his talent and skills so he could bring his A-game to this year’s tryouts.” When he finished speaking, he looked pleased with himself, and I could tell he had let out a small sigh of relief.

What are you hiding?

Though I didn’t know it yet, at that moment my rivalry with Stiles Stilinski began. He and Scott were hiding something, and I was going to find out what it was.

“You’re telling me that a girl is in a coma after the school winter formal and you don’t want me to write a story about it?”

Andrew leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “It’s not that I don’t want you to write it. I just think it’s a tense time right now. The administration is receiving a lot of flack right now because of the winter formal fiasco, and Ms. Blanchard told me that we may want to avoid stirring the pot right now,” he explained. “That is not to say that we abandon our journalistic integrity and commitment to informing the student body, but we just may want to be sensitive to our environment right now.”

I trusted Ms. Blanchard, the faculty sponsor of the Daily Beacon, but not reporting on Lydia’s comatose state felt wrong. She was well-known at school, and students deserved to know the facts of her situation and how it had happened.Well, maybe I was lying to myself by saying that the real reason I wanted to pursue the story wasn’t the fact that something inexplicable had happened at the dance and I had to figure out what it was.

Andrew could sense my disappointment. “Look, maybe for now you can start collecting information and sources, and I’ll talk to Ms. Blanchard. Maybe she can advise us on how best to proceed.”

I threw my arms around Andrew in a quick hug. “Yes, thank you! I promise I’ll be sensitive when asking sources. I know how difficult this must be for the people close to her.”

“I know you will,” he said, chuckling lightly.

With a smile plastered on my face – perhaps a little inappropriately considering the topic I was excited to cover – I left the small newspaper office in search of my first source: Stiles Stilinski. He had been Lydia’s date to the dance, so surely he must know what happened to her, right? “No, I don’t know what happened,” Stiles angrily responded when I cornered him at his locker. “We were separated for a bit because she went looking for someone. When I went looking for her I–” he stopped suddenly, as if choosing his words carefully. He wouldn’t meet my eyes as he spoke.

“The next thing I know, she was at the hospital in a coma. They told me Jackson had found her out on the field when I went to check on her at the hospital,” he explained.

Something wasn’t adding up. “Ok, but where were you the rest of that time? You didn’t go looking for her when you didn’t see her for a while? What about when she had already been checked into the hospital?”

“What is this – an investigation?” Stiles shouted as he slammed his locker shut. I took a step back, eyes wide at the sudden display of aggression. Maybe I pushed too hard, I thought. Stiles rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I….I didn’t mean it like that. There’s just a lot going on, and my dad has been up my ass about those details too. To be honest, I can’t tell you where I was. The time just flew by and all of a sudden I’d realized I hadn’t seen Lydia for a couple hours. I wish I had been there for her, but there’s nothing I can do for her now other than check up on her.”

Running a hand over his buzzed head, he shot me a forced smile and said “good luck with your article” before walking away.

I was at a loss for words, trying to put the pieces together in my head. Surely he couldn’t have had a part in Lydia’s injury? There’s no way. But his defensiveness was off-putting–

“Hey, y/n!” I was snapped out of my thoughts by Allison approaching me from behind. “What were you talking to Stiles about?”

“Huh? Oh, um, I was just asking him about…” I remembered that the funeral for Allison’s aunt was happening and didn’t want to mention the additional stress of her best friend being comatose, so I opted for a white lie. “Biology homework. I wasn’t really paying attention in class today.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you two were friends,” she said as she leant against the lockers.

I shook my head violently. “We’re not.” I’d grown too close to Allison for her to not pick up on my feelings though.

“You say that now, but–”

“I have to get to class. See you at lunch, Ally!”

Other things that year were weird, but none warranted any further investigation via newspaper article. Sure, I was wondering about Erica Reyes’ sudden transformation into the ultimate baddie, the mysterious deaths of a mechanic and Isaac Lahey’s dad, numerous paralyzations at the Jungle, and a death of someone at a secret rave, but Andrew thought it would be best for the Chronicle and Ledger to cover those bigger events. In fact, the only other unnatural event that happened that I had to cover for the newspaper was Stiles’ unbelievable winning streak at the lacrosse championship. I would have quoted him after the game, but I really didn’t want to speak to him and anyway, he had disappeared for a bit right after the team won.

I could tell that things were happening, but it was all hidden from public view. I even noticed Allison’s behavior fluctuating. The arrival of her grandfather shook things up, and while he gave me a bad feeling, I couldn’t exactly figure out why. Lydia was more troubled than usual after coming back from the hospital even though she tried to act normally. Jackson was going through something and was more angry and aggressive than usual, but I wasn’t close enough to him to ask him if he was okay.

Over the summer, I spent a surprising amount of time with Lydia. Allison spent her summer in France, but she asked me to keep an eye on Lydia to make sure she was okay, especially since Jackson had moved to London during the summer break. I was surprised how much I enjoyed spending time with the redhead, and we hung out when I wasn’t working at my internship at The Beacon Chronicle, which my mom had convinced me to apply for after she noticed how irritated I was that I couldn’t pursue some of the stories I wanted.

By the time Allison came back before the start of school, it felt like Lydia and I had been best friends for the longest time.

“So, Allison, have you talked to Scott at all this summer?” I asked when I was sitting in the backseat of Lydia’s car, Allison in the passenger seat.

She shook her head. “No, I think I still need some time. He...hides things from me and I don’t know if I can trust him.”

I nodded my head, understanding the feeling. I still couldn’t place my finger on what had happened between them or what Scott was involved in. Though I comforted her when I found out they broke up, I didn’t really know why they’d done it.

“What about you, y/n? Have you talked to Stiles at all?” Allison asked, looking back at me in the backseat.

“Why the hell would I talk to Stiles?” I questioned, confused.

She and Lydia shared a small look that I couldn’t decipher before she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, but you guys are more similar than you may think. I don’t know why you guys act like you don’t like each other though.”

The car rolled to a stop at the stop light, and all of a sudden I noticed a familiar baby blue jeep approach next to us. “Speak of the devil,” I mumbled. Lydia and Allison didn’t notice Stiles staring and waving at first, but when they did the car was filled with awkward tension.

The next events were a blur: Lydia running the red light, both cars stopping in the middle of the road, and a deer running straight towards us, nearing killing me in the gap between the front seats. We were shaken, and the boys ran towards us when they saw what happened.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked Lydia, but he kept looking at me. I nodded slightly and he turned his full attention back to Lydia.

“What was wrong with it?” Allison asked as Scott got closer to the deer.

“It was scared,” he explained. “No, terrified.”

Things got progressively weirder after that. On the first day of school, I interviewed our new English teacher, Ms. Blake. She was nice enough, but it was unfortunate that her class was the one that a whole flock of birds decided to burst through the classroom windows. By the time the police arrived, I was already drafting up a story in my brain: Why are the animals acting weird in Beacon Hills?

I had overheard Stiles talking to Scott about the deer’s weird behavior and the number of deer-related incidents in California, so I swallowed my pride so that I could talk to him and maybe get some stats and information on the whole situation.

I walked up to him when he was sitting alone, texting on his phone. “Hey, Stiles.” “y/n? What’s wrong?” He had genuine concern written on his face.

“I overheard you and Scott talking about deer-related incidents earlier,” I noticed how he tensed up at my statement, “and I was wondering if you could help me with a piece I’m writing? It seems like you know all the stats, so maybe...you could write it with me?” It pained me to finish that sentence, but I figured it might be easier to figure out what was going on if he was helping – especially if he already had inside information.

I think for the first time in his life, the talkative boy was speechless. “I understand if you don’t want to or you’re busy–” I said quickly, trying to give him a way out.

“Yeah, sure.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t caught off guard by his response. “W-what?”

He smirked slightly. “Yeah, sure. I’ll help you out with your article, y/n. Collaborate with you, if you will. We can work on it at my house tomorrow afternoon if you want.”

Nodding and agreeing with the plan, I left the chaotic English classroom.

The next afternoon, I felt like I was walking into the lion’s den. Going to Stiles’ house felt foreign, but what was even stranger was seeing him in casual clothes in a comfortable environment.

He answered the door wearing some sweats and a t-shirt, looking more comfortable and confident than I’d ever seen him. “Hey, y/n. Come on in,” he greeted.

I thanked him awkwardly, and we walked to his dining room table to get set up. “Sorry, I need to go grab my notes from my room. Be back in a sec,” Stiles said before leaving me alone in his dining room.

After a moment of silence, Sheriff Stilinski walked in wearing his uniform. “Oh, y/n! What are you doing here?” He had seen me a couple weeks ago in the police station when I was requesting documents for a story for the Chronicle. Though journalists and cops don’t often have a jovial relationship, he said that he liked me because of my commitment to the truth and respectful nature.

“Hey, Sheriff. I’m writing a piece about the animals acting weird, you know, with the deer accident and bird incident, and Stiles said he’d help me since he has a bunch of statistics on deer related car accidents.”

“Stiles is helping you? Well, I’ll be damned.” When he saw the confusion on my face, he rushed to explain himself. “No, not like that. It’s just, you’re all organized and focused, and Stiles is….Stiles.”

I was laughing heartily when the boy himself walked back into the room. “What’s going on, Daddy-o?”

“Nothing, son. Just catching up with y/n here. I’ve got to get to work, but you’re welcome anytime, y/n.” He said before patting Stiles on the shoulder and heading off to work.

Stiles looked over at me oddly when he placed his notes on the table and sat next to me. “Since when are you all buddy-buddy with my dad?”

Shrugging, I said, “Ever since we started grabbing beer every Thursday night while you’re at lacrosse practice.” His jaw dropped slightly, and I laughed again. “No, idiot. We’ve just interacted a lot because of my internship. Now, can we get started on the article?”

After the article was published, my next assignment was writing about the track meet a couple weeks later. I found out Allison and Lydia were riding together to the meet, so I tagged along.

Both girls were extremely tense the whole ride, seemingly concerned about something going on in the bus. We were only a few cars behind the bus full of track runners (and lacrosse players who were forced to attend the meet), but the stand-still traffic was a force to be reckoned with.

“Do you think we’re too close?” Allison asked.

“Honey, if you were any closer I think you’d mount the bus,” Lydia said sarcastically. She got a call from Stiles and looked over at Allison. “Hey, Stiles,” she dragged out the ‘hey,’ tension obvious in her voice.

She listened to what he was saying, something clearly wrong. “What do you mean he’s not–” she stopped when she remembered I was in the car, “healing?” She finished the question quietly, probably hoping I wouldn’t hear.

Healing? Is he injured?

“Yeah, ok, just find a way to get Coach to stop. We’ll meet you there.” She hung up and told Allison to pull off at the next stop.

When we got to the rest stop, I could see everyone hurrying to get off the bus. Allison parked the car, and we quickly went to the bathroom where I saw Scott nearly passed out on the floor. “Oh my god, is he okay?”

“Yeah, y/n. He’s fine. At least, he will be,” Stiles responded. He positioned his body in front of me a little bit as if he was trying to block my view of Scott.

I gently pushed him aside so I could see and was shocked to see black blood coming from the injured boy. “What the hell is going on? Why is his blood black?” I ran forward to get closer, kneeling next to Allison.

“It’s nothing. We just need to stitch him up and he’ll be fine.”

“Stiles, don’t fucking lie to me. I can see that he’s obviously not fine.”

“He’s right,” Allison said quietly. “We need to stitch him up. I need something to stitch him together with.” She looked around before remembering something in her bag.

I shook my head. “We need to tell Coach. Take him to a hospital or something.”

“No!” All three of them yelled at me.

It was quiet for a moment, all of us deciding where to go from here. “Just…” Stiles started, “please go and make sure the bus doesn’t leave without us. We’ll handle this.” I got up and slowly made my way to the door.

As I reached for the door, a hand grabbed my wrist. “y/n,” Stiles said, “it’ll make sense someday. Just trust us for now. Trust me,” he pleaded quietly out of earshot of the girls and Scott.

“I do,” I replied quietly, not meeting his eyes, before pulling my hand from his grasp and leaving the bathroom.

That night, we all had to stay at the Motel Glen Capri because of the postponed meet. I didn’t like its energy, and neither did Lydia. “A lot can happen in one night,” she said.

Though it was supposed to be two to a room, I convinced Coach to let me room with Allison and Lydia. Admittedly, Coach didn’t need much convincing because I was saving the school money by doing so. Once we got our room key, we went up to our room on the second floor.

“I’m going to go get a snack from the machine,” I told Lydia once Allison was in the shower.

She nodded. “Sounds good. I’m going to the lobby. There must be something we can do about these towels that reek of nicotine.”

Grabbing a couple one’s from my wallet, I made my way down the hall to the vending machine where I ran into Boyd and Stiles. As I approached, I could hear Stiles trying to talk to an unresponsive Boyd, who subsequently punched a hole through the glass of the machine, grab his snack that the machine refused to give him, and walk away.

“What the hell was that?” I asked Stiles as I walked up next to him.

He shrugged. “I don’t really know, to be honest.” He reached into the machine to grab his snack and tossed one to me as well.

When I got back to my room, a shaken Allison and Lydia were hurriedly talking about something. “Oh, y/n! You’re back. You won’t believe what just happened…” Allison started

She recounted the story of Scott’s bizarre behavior in the bathroom, and Lydia filled me in on the counter that they have at the front desk. “Can you imagine having a counter for the number of suicides that take place in your hotel? Crazy,” Lydia said. Taking her phone out, she sent a quick text to Stiles telling him that we all needed to talk.

We met him in the hallway a couple minutes later. “What was the text for?” Stiles asked when he saw our little gathering.

“There’s something going on with all the…” she looked over at me before continuing, “guys. You know, Scott, Boyd, Isaac, probably Ethan too.” I tried to connect the dots between all of them, but I didn’t really know what they all had in common. Scott and Isaac were both on the lacrosse team, but from what I could tell they didn’t have a particular fondness for each other or Ethan.

“I think someone’s going to die tonight,” Lydia said decisively.

“Why do you think that?” I asked, but it seemed like I was the only one questioning her line of reason.

She shook her head slowly. “I just...have a feeling.” After a moment of silence, she told us about hearing something from the room next to ours through the vent, so we decided to investigate it. Room 217 seemed empty and locked, but all of a sudden we heard the sound of a saw from behind the door.

Stiles busted the door open, and we opened it to find Ethan turning the saw on himself. “Ethan, stop!” I yelled as we ran into the room. Stiles started wrestling him for the saw, but luckily Lydia saw where it was plugged into the wall and unplugged it.

The next thing that happened was completely unexpected to me. Ethan grew fangs and claws, his eyes blazing red. What the fu–

Allison and Lydia rushed forward, wrestling his claws away from his torso where he had been planning on slashing himself. In the struggle he fell on the space heater, which apparently brought him out of whatever state he was in. He ran out of the room soon after. When we tried to question him about what he was doing, he couldn’t answer us. He had been out of control, and it made Allison realize we were forgetting someone.

“Where’s Scott?” She asked suddenly. When no one could answer, we all decided to split up – I’d go with Allison to look for Scott while Stiles and Lydia went to find Boyd and Isaac.

Scott wasn’t in his room. Allison and I ran all over the motel, looking in every crevice. At last, we decided to check the school bus, and that’s where we saw him. Standing drenched in gasoline, a flare lit up in his hand.

“Scott…” I approached quietly, careful to not make any sudden movements.

It was then that Stiles and Lydia joined us. I watched as Stiles walked into the gasoline, my breath catching in my throat as he nearly sacrificed himself. Scott was talking, but I didn’t really understand what it meant. He said that his life was better before the bite.

Stiles eventually talked Scott down, but the flare rolled into the gasoline. Luckily, Lydia was able to make sure we had all gotten out of the way. I’d ended up next to Stiles on the ground, and though we made eye contact, no words were spoken.

We spent the night in the bus because none of us could bear the thought of spending another second in that cursed place. Coach woke us up in the morning, definitely thinking the worst about what we may have gotten ourselves into, but whatever he was thinking wouldn’t possibly compare to reality. What was reality? I couldn’t have really told you at that point. I didn’t understand what we’d just lived through.

Before the other students started loading onto the bus, Stiles slid into the empty space next to me. “y/n, you know that all of this,” he made a grand gesture to Scott and the others as well as the motel, “is off the record. You can’t tell anyone about this. About what happened.” I held eye contact with him for a moment before nodding. “I wouldn’t tell anyone. To be honest, I don’t even really know what I would tell people, but I wouldn’t.” He nodded, a sad smile on his face as he looked down and fidgeted with his hands. “But Stiles,” I said as he looked back up at me. “Please help me understand it all. You can trust me, I promise, I just want to understand. I want to help.”

With a deep sigh, Stiles nodded once more. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything.”

When Stiles said he’d fill me in on everything, I didn’t realize he meant everything. I couldn’t believe how oblivious I had been to everything that had happened in the past year. Sure, I knew something weird was going on, but how was I supposed to know it was supernatural?

Finding out that my little corner of the world, little old Beacon Hills, California, had werewolves (and a kanima, pack of alphas, and whatever the hell a Darach was) was a lot to process. It was unbelievable, but Stiles helped me believe it.

I could tell that he didn’t fully trust me though. There was something in the way he looked at me that told me he was wondering when I would be done with my source acquisition and I’d write the next big exposé: Supernatural Beacon Hills: How Werewolves Have Been Hiding In Plain Sight. I didn’t know how to assure him that I was on their side and wouldn’t expose their secrets.

As the year progressed, things simultaneously made more sense and less sense. To defeat the Darach, we had to perform a sacrifice for the parents that had abducted, and Deaton – the veterinarian that had taken care of every family pet we’d ever had – told me I had to hold Stiles down during it. He said we had some sort of connection, but I guess that’s what mutual loathing does to people.

In the end, we won. We beat the Darach, the alpha of the alphas Deucalion left, and Scott became an alpha himself. But it was still just the beginning.

The sacrifice did something to Scott, Stiles, and Allison that we didn’t fully understand. Deaton said they left a door open, which only made it harder for Stiles to trust me because he could barely trust himself.

Knowing about the supernatural didn’t preclude my other responsibilities though. I still wrote for the Daily Beacon, much to Stiles’ displeasure, but I enjoyed it. So, on the first day of school I interviewed our newest faculty member – Mr. Yukimura. He and his family had just moved from New York, and his daughter Kira was in our grade. She was nice, but shy, so I invited her to have lunch with us.

Surprisingly, Kira jumped right into the conversation at lunch by mentioning bardo, the Buddhist concept of being in an in-between state.

After lunch, I caught up with Allison to walk to our next class. “Hey, Allison, could I ask you a favor?”

“Of course! What’s up?”

“Well, I don’t really know how to ask this but...I need help learning to defend myself, I guess? It’s just that I’m going to be helping you guys now, and I actually want to be helpful, so I want to protect myself so you guys don’t have to worry about me,” I admitted.

Allison smiled softly. “I’d love to help.” I returned her smile, suddenly giddy, yet nervous. “But, I think you should know that my...aim...has been off since the sacrifice.”

I could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Nonsense, I’m sure that you’re still the best shot in this school.” She shook her head. “It’s never been this bad.”

Touching her arm lightly, I gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure it out together.”

A few days later, I was surprised when I was paid a visit by both Scott and Stiles while I was sitting in the library. “To what do I owe this pleasure, boys?”

“We need your help.” I perked up at Scott’s statement. “We’re trying to solve the Tate case, you know, the one where Malia Tate disappeared all those years ago after that car accident, and we could use your help tracking her down.” He looked over at Stiles and nudged him with his elbow.

“And, you can write a piece about it. Not including all the details, if what we think happened is true, but you can still write something factual,” Stiles said, still displeased that I was writing for the newspaper.

To annoy Stiles, I acted like I was really thinking about it for a minute, but then laughed lightly. “Yeah, I’ll help you guys. Where do we start?”

Pull yourself together, y/n. You’re a journalist. You’re supposed to report on tragedy all the time. Be objective.

I took a deep breath and wrote the first line for what would be the cover story of the next Daily Beacon issue.

Junior Allison Argent, 17, died in an unfortunate carjacking incident last fall.

Before I could write any more, I got a phone call from Stiles.

Oh, thank god. “Stiles?”

“Do you want to come with us to Mexico?” He blurted out.

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from my chest. “What? Mexico? Why? When–”

“Tomorrow.”

“Stiles, are you insane? Even if I wanted to, there’s no way my parents would ever let me go.”

“We’re all telling our parents we’re going camping, if that helps at all,” he said with what seemed like a hint of disappointment in his voice.

I was quiet for a minute, but my mind was already made up. “Why? And who exactly is going?”

“Scott, Lydia, Kira, Malia, and I have to visit some hunters and see what they know about Derek being missing.”

As soon as he mentioned Malia, my mouth started curling into a frown. It’s not that I disliked the werecoyote, it’s just that she and Stiles had been pretty full on since they hooked up at Eichen and started dating. I wasn’t jealous – though I’m sure Lydia would argue otherwise since she’s convinced I like him or something – just...weirded out by their relationship.

I sighed. “I want to help, but I really can’t tomorrow. School starts back up in a couple days, and I need to finish this elegy for Allison and come up with a bunch of assignments for the staff writers…” I trailed off, thinking about all that I had to do before the coming week.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Ms. Editor-in-chief over here has a life outside of us,” Stiles joked.

Andrew graduated at the end of last year and left his glittering empire to me, though suddenly I felt overwhelmed at the prospect of running a newspaper while being way too involved in the town’s supernatural endeavors. It didn’t bother me last semester, but after Allison…

“I’ll just see you guys when you get back, okay?” I told Stiles. He made an unintelligible noise of agreement. “And try not to let anyone get killed.” “Yes, mom,” Stiles said sarcastically. I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

When the pack got back, I was surprised by the events that had taken place. “What do you mean it’s a young version of Derek?”

A few days later, I had to cover the spring lacrosse tryouts. Though I wanted to assign it to someone else, I had to do it myself because everyone was busy with the assignments I had given them.

To my surprise, a new freshman, Liam Dunbar, showed everyone up at tryouts – even Scott. I took note of how he seemed almost athletically superior to everyone, and I wondered if he was supernatural.

“He’s human, I’m sure of it,” Scott said as he came up next to where I was sitting on the bleachers, scaring me out of my mind in the process.

“Jeez, Scott. A little warning next time would be nice. But how do you know?”

He shrugged. “I can just tell. He’s just a really great athlete.”

“He’s going to be a great pain in my ass, I can tell,” Stiles said, sidling up next to Scott.

I took note of their reactions, writing down Scott’s comment – about being a great athlete, not human – to consider while writing my piece.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re writing a story about him,” Stiles groaned.

“You know I have to write one about the tryouts, and he just happens to be the star player of today,” I told him. “Sorry, Scott.”

Scott waved me off, but Stiles was still upset about the situation. “No, don’t give him the ego boost! He’s already a little shit, and an article about him would make it worse.”

Taking a break from my note-taking, I looked over at the brown-haired boy. “Stiles, have you even talked to him?”

He looked at a loss for words. “N-not really...but I can see his arrogance from a mile away!”

I rolled my eyes. “Well then, if you’d excuse me, I’m going to write up a fantastic story about a talented up-and-coming lacrosse player.”

The article became the next issue’s front page, but I almost wished I hadn’t given him as much attention when Scott turned him into his beta.

The rest of the year didn’t go as planned either, but isn’t junior year supposed to be everyone’s worst year?

As much as I liked helping out with the supernatural problems Scott and the rest of the pack were having, it was hard knowing about what was going on and not being able to write about it, especially when all of the mysterious killings started up. We eventually found out about the deadpool, but I could write about a kill list of Beacon Hills’ resident supernaturals, could I?

At the end of the year, I finally had to make the trip to Mexico with the rest of the pack. “Stiles, I’m going. You can’t stop me!” I attempted to open the passenger door of the jeep when he reached out and shut it from behind me.

“No, it’s going to be dangerous. We don’t even really know what we’re facing,” he tried reasoning with me. “I can protect myself,” I said, thinking of the training that Allison had given me. “Besides, I can’t just sit by and wait for you guys to come back. I need to try helping Scott.”

Realizing that I wasn’t going to back down, Stiles removed his hand from the side of the door and opened it for me. I nodded a quick thanks as I hopped into the vehicle.

I wasn’t expecting to fight Scott that day, but we all did in order to return him from his Berserker form. At the end of the fight, I had a few cuts and bruises, but nothing I couldn’t deal with.

As Derek drove away with Braedan, I could feel that things were changing. “I can’t write about any of this, can I?” I asked somewhat jokingly.

“Off the record,” Stiles replied from where he stood next to me.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?”

“Oh thank god, you remember me!” He said as he grabbed my hands. He’d been running down the hall frantically when I saw him.

I looked at him with concern on my face. “Yeah, of course I remember you? Why wouldn’t I–”

“y/n, it’s the Hunt. The Ghost Riders. I saw them, and now they’re coming for me.” He was breathing heavily, eyes sweeping the surroundings for signs of the Ghost Riders. His eyes locked on something to his left, but when I looked, I couldn’t see anything. “They’re here. We have to go,” he said, pulling me towards the parking lot. We got into his jeep, but he didn’t start the car. “Stiles, what are you doing?”

“It’s too late.” I could see the look of grief on his face. “No, don’t say that. It’s not–”

“It’s the truth,” he cut me off, turning to look at me. “Promise me you won’t forget.”

I shook my head. “I won’t. But Stiles, I can’t do this without you,” I could feel a tear escaping my eye and slipping down my cheek, my emotions getting the better of me.

Stiles reached forward and wiped the tear away before placing his hand on my cheek. “What do you mean? You’re one of the smartest, most inquisitive people I know. If I had to trust anyone to find a way to stop the Ghost Riders, it would be you.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his honesty. “Yeah right. Lydia will probably figure it out before me.”

He shook his head. “You can do it. I trust you.” I could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he turned to look at something through the window over his shoulder. “Can I tell you something? Off the record.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my mouth. “Yes, of course. What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t hate you. I know it may seem like I’ve never trusted you or that I don’t care about you, but it’s actually the opposite. I...really really like you,” he admitted.

I was stunned. Stiles likes me? He was searching my face for any indication of feelings as I sat there silently.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles mumbled. “Ok, forget I said that. Well, you won’t need to forget when you forget me in a minute–”

I cut off his rambling by placing my lips on his. They were warm and familiar, as if they were made for mine. “I like you too,” I mumbled when I disconnected, my eyes still closed from the interaction.

But when I opened them, I was alone in the baby blue jeep.

All semester, I’d felt that something was missing, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Or who it was.

But after months of searching for it, we finally figured it out. Lydia had gone into a banshee trance to discover the word “Stiles,” and it brought back vague memories for me when I heard it. The feeling of soft flannel. A sarcastic laugh. Red string around my finger. A hefty wooden baseball bat.

The collection of memories made sense when we all finally got our memories back and remembered the person we were missing from our lives.

We traced the trail of clues to the sewers, where Scott tried to bring back Stiles because of their brotherly love for one another. I thought it would work, but the portal closed and Stiles hadn’t appeared. Come on, Stiles. Where are you?

We had to fight the Ghost Riders off, making sure they didn’t turn our beloved Beacon Hills into another ghost town. I’d run into the high school, looking for something to use as a weapon when I ran into someone in the hall. A tall, brown-haired figure wearing a flannel shirt. “Stiles?”

He turned, and smiles emerged on both of our faces. I broke into a run again, right into his arms. “I can’t believe you’re here. You’re really here.” I mumbled, the sound muffled against his shirt.

“I knew you could do it,” he said.

I pulled back slightly and looked up at his face, suddenly nervous. “That night in the jeep...did you hear what I told you before you disappeared?”

A soft smile rested on his face. “Of course I did. It was the one thing that kept me going, especially when I was stuck with Peter.”

“Peter Hale? Why the hell were you with Peter Hale?”

Stiles shook his head. “We can go over that later. For now, there’s one thing I’ve been wanting to do.” I was a little confused, but I understood once he leaned in and connected our lips.

This is what I’d been missing, and I was never going to let it go again.

I watched from afar as Stiles gave his trusty baseball bat to Mason, who didn’t seem to appreciate the hunk of wood.

“Have you told him yet?” Lydia asked as she appeared next to me.

I shook my head. “We haven’t really had time to talk about that stuff. I think he doesn’t really want to think about it just yet and what that might mean for us.”

She nudged me with her elbow, silently telling me to go over there and talk to him. Rolling my eyes, I walked towards the familiar blue jeep and familiar mess of brown hair.

Liam and Mason had already walked away, and Scott and Stiles were standing and talking at the jeep’s trunk. “Hey, y/n. I’m just heading out, but I’ll see you guys later,” Scott said as I came up and Stiles threw his arm around me.

We waved as Scott left, and Stiles pulled me closer. “Hey,” he said, looking down at me with an affectionate expression.

I pulled him over so we could sit in the open trunk. “We need to talk.” I could see the panic flare up in his eyes.

“Oh, um, okay? Is everything okay?”

Chuckling lightly, I nodded. “Yeah, we just haven’t talked about college at all,” I explained.

His head dropped. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want it to ruin what we have here, and I don’t even know what life will be like outside of Beacon Hills, and I feel like we just got together and now–”

“Stiles,” I cut him off. “I’m going to GW too.”

His eyes widened at my confession. “You...you’re going to GW?”

I nodded, a small smile on my lips. “I committed a while ago. I’m going to study journalism there.”

I watched as a smile spread across his face. Then, it was replaced by a quick smirk. “Oh great, you’re following me there, huh? I just can’t seem to get rid of you.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m going to need someone to give me the inside scoop on the FBI’s antics.”

He looked pensive for a moment. “I think what you’re describing is illegal.”

“Not if it’s in the public’s interest. But maybe it just needs to be off the record,” I admitted. Stiles laughed. “Oh, it’s definitely going to be off the record.”

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski x reader #scott mccall #lydia martin #allison argent #hot take: scott should have brought back stiles in 6b not lydia #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski one shot #dylan obrien #isaac lahey #dylan o'brien

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interstelleo · 3 years

Text

catch me and watch me

alex has to help jack pack for tour, but his eyes stumble onto more than an empty suitcase

2,459 words

alex knocked on the door to jack’s apartment, not waiting to open it. he and jack had always been close enough that they never needed to. plus he already knew he was coming over to help him pack. jack was not the best with being prepared for things and tour was not an exception. he was a little surprised to see that he wasn’t on his couch as per usual. he decided that the next best place to check would be the bedroom.

the thing that surprised him was not that jack had left the door open, nor was it the fact that he was jerking off. no, alex’s eyes widened at the other part, the sounds. there were two main things he could hear. the first, the sounds coming from jack himself. soft groans, heavy breathes, nothing new about those. the second thing though, was his own voice? and really, he had to do a double take because jack was jerking off to some random video of him?

alex listened in on it, hiding behind the wall so jack couldn’t see him if he happened to look up. it took him a moment to remember when he’d said those slurred words, but eventually it came to him. it was one of those rare times that they had two off days in a row. the band and crew went out for drinks, and if his barely there memories of that night served him well, at this point they were back on the bus. alex remembered quickly stripped, only putting his jeans back on after removing his boxers before starting to dance sexually. it would’ve been a striptease, but he’d already got almost nothing on and matt wasn’t going to let him take his jeans off.

alex bit his lip to stop a half-laugh, half-whimper at the fact that jack had not only secretly recorded him, but also got off on it. he’d always enjoyed people looking at him, part of the reason he always wore his too-tight skinny jeans. not helping his case was the fact that this was jack, his best friend, bandmate, and guy he’d had a crush on since eighth grade.

before his brain caught up with him, he found himself peering back into the room. jack looked hot as always, and the soft growls coming from his lips were turning alex on more than he realized. a minute or so, as alex would guess, passed before he realized his hand had unbutton and zipped his jeans, giving him better access to his own cock which he was now stroking. it didn’t take long for his imagination to kick in and provide him with the perfect idea.

jack clearly liked watching him, as shown by the bright red, leacking tip of his cock. alex also knew that he’d always wanted jack to catch him doing intimate things. he wasn’t sure why but the few times it had happened were drilled in his mind, and nothing even came from them. he always imaged what might’ve happened had jack stayed in the room. he hoped there’d be some watching, maybe fucking. that idea was still laden in his head, and now he had the perfect opportunity.

really, the couch being directly across from jacks bedroom was too perfect. sure, he thought while sitting down on the near end, he’s going to see me eventually, but he could look up now, or he could look up after a he takes a nap or something. that was all he needed to get his hand back on his now rock hard member. he couldn’t wait for jack to see him sitting there on his couch, watching the scene with a hand working his exposed length. it took a lot of him not to make any sounds. alex was naturally vocal and this was, no question, the hottest thing he’d ever done. he felt fucking filthy getting off to jack jerking himself off to a video he didn’t know existed while jack didn’t even know he was in his apartment at all, and he fucking loved it. he loved that jack was going to see him strung out on his couch, knowing that the situation was the thing that did it for him. he loved that jack wanted him in at least on of the ways he wanted him. he loved that the situation was so incredibly obscene.

alex’s eyes stayed locked on jack’s cock while his ears listened intently to the noises coming from his throat while fisting himself harder and faster than he’d probably ever done. in fact he was so focused on those three things, that he never noticed that he’d accidentally let out a moan and jack had heard it. the fist on jack’s cock never stalled as he looked at the blonde, fucked out on his couch, panting for release. his mind raced as he put together the situation. once he had, he smirked. alex liked that he was watching a video of him, and seemingly a lot.

jack laid his phone down on the bed next to him, slowly in case alex noticed it, though he was fairly certain his eyes were only on his dick. he decided to test something when he didn’t react. his motion changed from stroking to thrusting up into his hand. he refrained from laughing as alex let out a high pitch whine, startling himself. his eyes widened, hearing the noise he’d made, and he caught jacks gaze. his pupils were fully dilated and he had that smirk on his face. his mind ran with what to do or say, but no words came out of his mouth. his fist just kept working his throbbing cock desperately.

jack laughed at him. alex looked so dirty with how bad he clearly needed to cum soon, laid out on jack’s own fucking couch. then he made the decision that they were fucking, but not until he had his fun with him. “you’re fucking flithy, gaskarth,” he spoke, voice low and raspy, “look at you, getting off to the fact that i took a video of you, just so i could jerk my own cock to it. i can’t believe you’re that much of a fucking whore.”

alex only whined, wanting more. he didn't really care if the more included degrading him until he begged jack to let him cum or if the more included jack fucking him raw, but he wanted more. “please,” he whimpered.

jack chuckled again because honestly? he never thought alex would be that into degrading. “get up, slut. hands off,” he spoke sharply. “you have 30 seconds to be fully stripped.”

alex obeyed, slight fear flashing through his eyes for a moment. he worried that maybe jack didn’t want this quite like he did, but then he was being told to strip, and surely that meant something. he pulled his jeans off in record time, throwing all his clothes back onto the now abandoned couch. he held his own wrist behind his back, feeling exposed. he didn’t mind it, though. in fact, he was pretty sure he felt his cock twitch against his stomach when jack looked him up and down like a piece of meat.

“spin,” jack instructed, making a motion with the hand that had since left his cock. if alex liked to be viewed in a sexual light, he was going to be seen. jack was horny and alex was hot and getting off on it. it’s a win-win, really. alex did as he was asked, spinning in a slow circle, making sure to keep his hands out of the way. jack’s goal was clearly to see all of him, and he wasn’t about to make it seem like he wasn’t into the idea because he most certainly wanted to see where this went.

jack didn’t speak as he stilled, facing the doorway again. instead he brought his hand to his lips and spit in it. he kept his eyes scanning alex’s body as he brought it back to his aching length. he wrapped his hand around the tip tightly and started making small movements with his hips. “you like this, don’t you? you’re so exposed out there. what if someone walked in, lex?” he purred. “you look so good, i might have to invite them to join the viewing.”

alex nodded half-heartedly. he liked the thought more than he’d like to admit, but jack was slowly adding more thrust and he just wanted that to be his ass. he wanted jack to use his spit as lube and fuck him raw. he wanted him to watch how good he was at taking it, how his hole stretched and burned open for him. his vision became hazy, aside from the scene he was watching so intently.

jack knew alex like the back of his hand, and maybe they hadn’t done this before, but with how obedient he was being, he knew the blonde was falling into submission. he was glad that alex trusted him that much, but he pushed the thought aside to tell him later. his hips were making deep, slow thrusts now. “come here,” he instructed. “daddy wants to see the pretty hole he’s gonna be playing with.”

alex made his way over, eager to have jack in him. he bent over somewhat beside him, allowing him to do whatever he wished. jack spread his cheeks, looking at his prize. alex was perfect and his hole was so inviting. he pushed alex’s back down, with a little force, but not enough to really hurt him. he gave a light test slap to one cheek, smirking at the sharp moan he heard from below him. leaning over, he spread him open again and spit directly on his hole, stopping it from dripping out with his thumb. “do you want me to stretch you, baby?” he asked, sincerely. he didn’t want to actually hurt him.

alex shook his head quickly. he’d fingered himself earlier, so it wasn’t going to hurt as much as it could. even if he hadn’t he was so fucking horny, he didn’t think he’d care. “i can take it, daddy, please. i’ve wanted you in my ass for so long. just want you to watch me stretch around you. please,” he begged.

jack couldn’t say no to that. “ride me, you cock slut.” he pulled his hands away, grabbing the lube off his bedside table as alex climbed up onto his lap. he lubed himself up generously, hoping it helped on alex’s part. he helped line them up, before letting go so he could go at his own pace.

it was slow, but both boys took it as a moment for their roles to fall apart. jack was watching alex’s face, making sure he didn’t hurt himself that bad. alex’s eyes were shut while he focused on going down as steady and easy as possible. they both knew in those moments, this was more than just sex. it was, in a way, them telling each other how they’d felt for so long.

when alex eventually bottomed out, he looked down at jack with bright doe eyes. jack leaned up, kissing him gently as he grew used to being full. after a few moments, he started shifting his hips, whining softly. “so full,” he whispered, desperation lacing his voice.

“yeah, lex?” jack gripped his hips with more force than strictly necessary. “you like having your tight hole stretched around me like that?”

he whined, bringing his hands to rest on jacks. he wanted to run with the think they had going. jack had looked at him like an object, so now he wanted to be used like one. he was strong enough to lift him over his lap. he pulled up on his hands, picking himself up and pushing back down. “wanna be daddy’s fleshlight,” is all he said. jack growled lowly, repeating alex’s action gently. he nodded, biting his lip with a reassuring smile. “harder. i’ve seen you fuck before. i want that. i won’t break, but i’d like to see you try,” he challenged.

jack chuckled under his breath, lifting him up, and forcing him back down. “baby, don’t ask for things you don’t really want.” thus started an uneven rhythm of deep, hard thrusts. neither was going to last long, both being so wound up from the foreplay. jack moved him in different ways until he found the spot that had him moaning like a pornstar. “still want me to break you?” he asked with a smirk. over the years, he’d figured out that he’s better from behind. there’s more power in the thrusts like that.

alex didn’t even get a chance to respond through all the loud moans coming out of his mouth. jack felt pride from it. he was just that good with his cock. “how’s my toy, hmm? does it want to cum for daddy?”

alex nodded, starting to beg in broken whines. he was close, but he could tell jack was too. he was starting to thrust up into him as opposed to pushing him up and down and those thrusts were more uneven than before

“do not cum until after i do, understand?” jack didn’t expect him to respond, he was far, far gone at this point. for a moment, jack pretty much forgot that alex wasn’t a literal toy. alex didn’t mind it, really, it was hot to him that jack was chasing his pleasure so much. it wasn’t like he wasn’t still hitting his prostate dead on either.

suddenly, jack pushed down on alex’s hips as far as they could go. he came deep inside him, not letting up. alex came right after, spraying all over jacks chest. jack rode out their highs, holding alex up so he didn’t get covered in his cum. “are you alright, lex?” he asked as he caught his breath.

he nodded weakly, giving him a smile. “so good.”

jack lifted him up off of his softening cock, and laid him down gently. “are you sure? i didn’t go too hard on you? and the degrading was okay?”

alex nodded again, waiting for him to wipe off his chest so they could cuddle. “you were perfect,” he reassured.

jack wiped himself off with a tissue, before joining him on the bed. “you were perfect, too,” he smiled, taking the smaller into his arms. “you mean so much to me.”

alex laced their fingers together, turning to place a kiss to jack’s cheek. “are we boyfriends now?” he asked quietly. it was fast, and probably the wrong time for most people, but they weren’t most people.

“we’ve been basically dating since high school, lex. of course we’re boyfriends now.”

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

Note

Do both Fives get put in school in your double trouble AU? Do they get to have a chance at a (semi) normal childhood? How do the siblings handle having to actually parent one young kid and an actually an old man kid? And does young!Five bring out the childish side of old!Five? I just love this entire concept and young!Five having to fit in with the absolute disaster that his family has turned into. He loves them anyway.

“You know, we could go to school.”

Five flips a page in his book and ignored his ‘twin’ aggressively. But he could feel the heat of the stare from across the room and it was interfering with his concentration. So he glances up to meet gazes with a face identical to his own. “We aren’t going to school.”

“Why not?” Baby Five asks. Five shoots him a look but baby Five ignores him with ease, face earnest in a way they both know is false.

“I am fifty-eight years old.” Five informs his idiot double, as though anyone could ever forget what with Five bringing up his age every other minute. “I’m not going back to school.”

“Did you really keep track in the apocalypse?” Baby Five asks, raising his eyebrows at the other. His face is full of implied doubt, and Five would be offended if it wasn’t founded. When Five doesn’t respond, Baby Five crows triumphantly, “Ha! I knew you didn’t really know how old you are.”

“The Commission estimated!” Five protested, “I’m sure they were accurate!”

“Oh? Just like how accurate they were about the apocalypse definitely happening?”

There’s really no good response to that so Five just shoves his book off his lap and crosses his arms childishly. Not that he’s a child. They already established this.

Mercifully, Baby Five drops that line of inquiry to focus on the other equally terrible one. Perhaps not merciful after all. “What’s so bad about going to school, anyway?”

There’s a pause between them, before Five bristles, “It’s - it’s full of children that’s what!”

“You don’t even know what school is like!” Baby Five protests loudly, “You never even went! It could be fun!”

“If media has taught me anything it’s that school is in no way fun.” Five points out, standing his ground on the topic. Admittedly his knowledge of schools is limited - he only tried to scavenge around a couple during the apocalypse. Too many children’s corpses for his comfort, but a decent source of pens and paper and similar supplies.

“Claire said it’s fun.” Baby Five holds his position.

“Claire is six and the only things she’s really learning are how to read and write and make glitter monstrosities to hang upon the refrigerator.”

“How do you know it wouldn’t be us making cool things to hang on the fridge?” Baby Five challenged, suddenly frowning. “Plus I mean - I dunno. I love Mom but I feel like she should be able to do her own thing, you know? Instead of teaching us?”

Five would like to protest that he doesn’t need the lessons since he’s an adult, but Grace has been a life saver when it comes to bringing both of her boys up to date on the present day and also gently giving them books and worksheets about things they never got to in lessons since they left at thirteen.

“You want to be stuck learning about basic algebra and geometry?” Five asks instead, because it’s easier focusing on how school inconveniences them instead of how they are inconveniencing others. But his voice is just a tiny bit more uncertain that it was before.

Baby Five sighs deeply, “I mean. I guess not. But I’m bored of staying in the house all day and seeing the same people and just. Ugh. It’s been the same thing my whole life! Can’t we just like, pick and choose what classes to take? Maybe we could do maths with the higher up students.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re at like, the excessively knowledgeable ‘probably has a doctorate in mathematics’ level of maths.” Five says doubtfully, because it’s true. Five has been teaching his counterpart the equations and tricks he’s learned after forty-five years of doing nothing but think about equations and time travel in his spare time, but it’s not like it doesn’t come naturally to them. Five had always been light years ahead of his siblings when it came to the subject, and it was often a point of frustration when the others didn’t get something.

To Five, complex equations and algorithms were as second nature as walking. Sure they’d had to learn the basic at some point, but once they got the hang of it, it was easy. Time travel equations were more akin to figuring out how to walk on water instead of just walking. In this needlessly complex metaphor, that is.

Baby Five slams his hands on the desk, making Five jump (though he’d deny it if pointed out), “That’s it! We could go to college! They let you pick classes and stuff there, right? So we could just test into the highest math class possible? Or not take one at all!”

“We’re thirteen.” Five counters, but his tone is a little more thoughtful. “We’d have to take tests and stuff to say we’re ready to graduate high school. Which we are. Actually I’m pretty sure Reginald had us at college level when we were nine.”

“He always did have high expectations. But seriously! Just think about it! We’d get out of the house. We’d learn cool things. Luther ‘n Allison would stop fretting about what we’re gonna do with our lives. A whole new population to play tricks on.” Baby Five grins with mischief, and it makes Five crack a small smile back.

But there’s one problem.

“Ugh, we’re going to have to legalize our existence if we want to do official things like that. And then they’re not just going to let us do our own thing, what if they try and take us away?” Five has never had a desire to go into the foster system, thank you very much.

“No one ever said we had to do things the legal way.” Baby Five sniffs, as though offended at the very thought of going through proper channels. Which, well. Yeah that sounded like the Hargreeves way. “I bet we could like, just pretend we’re the original Five’s kids or something. We would’ve been what, sixteen? There have been younger parents.”

“Pretend to be our own children? That’s your solution?” Five asks, eyebrows climbing up his face in incredulity. “And then what? Make it so we died and? Left our little orphan selves to family?”

“It’s plausible!” Baby Five protests.

“Yeah, and it would still wind up with us having one of our darling siblings as a legal guardian.” Five said firmly, which was his whole issue with this to begin with. “Which one of the boneheads downstairs do you want to have legal control of our lives?”

“Mom could do it?”

“If you think Mom legally exists in the eyes of the law you’re even more naive than I thought.” Five sniffs, “She’s even worse off than we are.”

“Well okay miss negative Nancy,” Baby Five huffs, “You figure something out then.”

“Negative Nancy? Have you been hanging out around Klaus too often?” Five looks offended at the very possibility of their brother being an influence on his alternate self. Baby Five sticks out his tongue instead of answering.

There’s a pregnant pause between them before Five sighs, “Ugh. I’ll ask Mom about it tomorrow if it means so much to you. But I still absolutely refuse to attend a public high school with a bunch of snot nosed children.”

“We’re snot nosed children if you haven’t noticed.” Baby Five gestures between them with a roll of his eyes. This time it’s Five who sticks his tongue out childishly in response, even though as an adult he should really be above such things.

“Maybe we can take a history course and you can correct the professor.” Baby Five offers, a vague sort of olive branch.

“Bet you we could make at least one physics professor faint by jumping into class.” Five shoots right back, taking said olive branch with as much grace as he can allow.

“Dibs on the time travel stuff for a thesis.” Baby Five grins.

“Absolutely not.” Five shoots down instantly, “When you spend forty years working on inter-dimensional maths, then and only then can you claim my work you little thief.”

And that ends the discussion on that.

BUT YEAH essentially I don’t think any iteration of Five would ever really go to high school with other kids like that because honestly?? even as an actual thirteen year old Five is lightyears ahead on some subjects and he has issues. Can you imagine Five dealing with bullies and gossip and shit teachers??

Five would have one (1) person pick on him and break someone’s arm because he was taught violence is the first answer to everything. He’s genuinely kind of too dangerous to be around other kids his age. He’s also not one to suffer fools lightly, and so the first time a teacher taught something wrong (which they would because history class is full of historical revision and Five was probably there for half of it) he would butt heads with someone. I knew teachers who didn’t like to be corrected and I knew teachers who would be thrilled their student actually knows a subject, it just depends.

I mean Five is thirteen and that’s what? Eighth grade? That isn’t even high school yet. I was learning geometry. I was reading the outsiders. Learning all the prepositions in english class. Making bridges out of popsicle sticks in physical science and watching that one miracle of life video again. We had to run the mile every Wednesday and it was the worst.

You think putting Five in a PE class anywhere near other children and dodgeballs is in any universe a good idea?? He would obliterate them. He would make at least one person cry and probably send another to the nurses office and then, when he got in trouble, wouldn’t understand what he did wrong. Because Diego threw knives at him and probably hit him at least once, a foam ball should be nothing and that kid is making a fuss for no reason. Doing sprints until he pukes - you mean an average Thursday in the Reginald Regime?

at least in college Five would be able to tailor his schedule and take whatever level course he needs. He could be in very high level math courses and be in beginner’s astronomy or intro to archaeology or linguistics 101 or whatever the hell he wants to learn tbh (probably anthropology or contemporary history courses if he wants to catch up to modern day??)

as for the parenting bit, both Five’s aren’t exactly what you would call receptive to being parented by anyone thank you very much and will aggressively tell you to fuck off if you tried

BUT both Five’s also wouldn’t know what the fuck a parent looked like if it hit them in the face with a baseball bat because when they think ‘parent’ they think ‘good old Reggie here to traumatize everyone again’ so their idea of being parented is?? being told to train, being told what to do/being given a schedule to follow with specific hours carved out for everything, private training, being told their flaws in excruciating detail, etc. so like,, if the bigger Hargreeves are careful and subtle about it and frame it in a sibling way then they can sometimes get away with it

after all if Diego drives Klaus everywhere, then it’s not bad if Diego offers to drive the Fives somewhere, even if they can do it themselves. If Allison fusses and puts more food on everyone’s plates then it’s not a thing and doesn’t need to be pointed out. If everyone has to check in with hourly texts to the group chat when they’re out after dark, then it just makes sense that the Fives do as well since knowing where everyone is can only be a boon after all the shit they went through in the apocalypse

honestly the parenting going on is basically just setting up healthy boundaries (making sure the Fives knock before just fuckin jumping into someone’s room or bathroom) and gently coaxing them into going out and doing things which they can frame as family outings/taking Grace out to see the world, and also gently nudging both Fives in the direction of healthier coping mechanisms/getting them to go to therapy, that sort of thing

Vanya is a firm believer in both therapy and setting an example so she probably gently encourages the whole family to find someone to talk to and holding up setting an example to the Fives as an excuse to get her whole family into much needed therapy is very helpful

and young Five ABSOLUTELY brings out the childish side in old Five, mainly because old five actually genuinely has No Fucking Idea how adults function and while he physically grew up, his social growth was very stunted by the,, how do i put this,,, lack of Anyone Existing Around Him For Forty Years so he has like?? vague ideas of how grown up people function but not a whole lot

like his primary example of Being An Adult are a) Reginald, an eccentric billionaire who didn’t work outside of abusing children like that was his job and b) the Handler who has no concept of personal space and frequently insinuates she’s going to kill him

and THEN,, when he actually achieves his goal and gets back to his family he gets a wonderful assortment of:

Luther, who lived on the moon for four years with no social interaction. Has never owned property or held down a job. Has he ever done taxes? Has he voted in an election? Does he even have a license?

Diego, who lives in a boiler room at the back of a gym and fights crime as a vigilante in his spare time after flunking out of the police academy. Has anger issues and an obsession with knives.

Allison, the movie star whose personal life is a fucking WRECK and is going through a brutal child custody case after she mind controlled her child on multiple occasions.

Klaus, who in general is just a wreck of a human being who has no occupation that I know of and is frequently in and out of rehab. Also homeless and overdoses on a seemingly regular basis if the nonchalant-ness with the paramedic says anything on that.

Ben, who is dead and invisible to them but who likely died before reaching adulthood anyway so.

Vanya, who has managed to hold down a job and home but has no social life to speak of and taste in men bad enough to literally end the world if given the chance. Seething with anger and resentment that has been bottled down and doesn’t know how to deal with her own emotions (though that was mostly Reggie’s fault tbh)

but as you can see there is not one single human adult in the Fives lives that is even in the ballpark of healthy normal adult role model.

I got away from myself but my point is that Five doesn’t know how adults act and baby Five is capable of prodding Five into joining his shenanigans partially because of this fact and partially because Five just genuinely wants to have fun sometimes

and if, occasionally, the duo pretend to be one another so that Five has an excuse for acting as childish as his genuinely teen counterpart then, well,,, who can tell them apart anyway? and it’s in the name of the game and confusing their siblings so there

I have plenty of feelings about the double trouble au goodness gracious

#double trouble au #far tua long #the umbrella academy #tua #this is the au where thirteen year old five shows up a few days after they stop the apocalypse and everyone has to deal with that #five hargreeves #number five #i'll add more tags tomorrow i'm tired and it's midnight

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 5 years

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This might have already been said before but hey, whatever. So you know how Ax combined the rest of the gang's DNA to make his human morph? Well what if they did that with animals, like stuck scorpion pincers on Jake's tiger morph or some shit?

It has been said before— just not to me! Interestingly enough, K.A. Applegate mentioned during a Twitter thread that she got that question a lot from readers, which is part of the reason that the plot of #35 The Proposal covered that specific issue.

IMHO, the problem with even attempting to make one’s own morph is multi-fold:

Problem 1: Morphing cannot be controlled to that level of precision.

None of the Animorphs except Cassie can do anything other than launch themselves into the process and focus really hard until it’s done. They can’t control the speed of the changes, they can’t control the order, and they can’t control the type. Therefore, Jake becomes faster at changing shapes and more skillful at using them over time, but he also cannot stop himself from rolling off the side of a mountain and going splat if he demorphs wrong, even at his most experienced (#54).

Even Cassie can only manage to be partway into or out of a morph if it’s her original human shape. So she can have a half-gull, half-human body for like a couple minutes if she concentrates really hard (#44), or she could have a third-gull, third-human, third-dolphin shape for a hot second or two if she starts as a gull and demorphs before remorphing, but there’s no doing it without some human parts.

Which leads to...

Problem 2: Animal shapes tend to be fundamentally incompatible.

Most of the Animorphs (again, Cassie’s a partial exception) are almost entirely helpless when they’re mid-morph. The characters eventually learn to use this fact to their advantage — Marco gets the drop on David this way, and later Rachel uses it against Tom’s yeerk — which suggests that it’s pretty fundamental.

When one is in a half-and-half shape, it is usually impossible to walk (#17), to see (#21), to breathe (#36) or to defend oneself against even a much weaker opponent (#33). Most of the time, the Animorphs go through a second or two during which THEY HAVE NO LUNGS because their human pair is gone before their insect/bird/fish set shows up. This actually makes a kind of sense within the openly-nonsensical Laws of Applied Phelbotinum of this universe, in that morphing tech doesn’t go in any particular order.

Anyway, even if one could manage to make a hybrid shape, it wouldn’t be much use. A human with a dog nose and hawk eyes wouldn’t be able to interpret the information coming from those senses, because the requisite neural circuitry wouldn’t be there. A snake with bird wings wouldn’t have the necessary musculature to take off and fly anywhere. So on and so forth.

Problem 3: The horror, the horror.

As #35 covers with the civilians’ reactions to Marco’s “spunk” (spider-skunk) and “poo bear” (poodle-polar bear), hybrids are obviously unnatural and kinda disturbing. A lot of the time, the Animorphs’ advantage comes from their ability to blend in with their surroundings as seagulls or dolphins or humans. Hybrids of this sort can only come from alien technology.

Ergo, any controller who sees a hybrid will immediately know that that’s an “andalite bandit” and try to kill it. And civilians aren’t much better, as Tobias points out: “The average, fairly decent human would think of taking [an alien] to a hospital... The average not-so-decent human might decide to shoot it, or stick it in a cage and charge people to look at the freak” (#23). Either way, they’d be attracting a lot of unwanted attention.

Problem 4: There’s really no improving on natural selection (especially not with an eighth-grade education).

Much of the point of the Animorphs series, according to Applegate herself, is to give kids the sense of what it really would mean to be a duck or a cobra or a seal. That means that there’s a huge motif in the series around showing how mind-blowingly good nature already is at ending up with organisms that fit their environments. Almost every single book involves the kids discovering some hidden wonder of their own planet in unlikely places, whether it’s Jake and Cassie and Marco all (with apologies to Tobias) insisting that being a housefly is even cooler than being a bird, or it’s Rachel comparing a mole moving through the ground to a dolphin in the ocean, or Tobias marveling at opposable thumbs.

Earth animals already are superweapons, and trying to graft extra limbs or something onto them is unlikely to do much to help. Because if it did help, evolution would’ve done so already.

Also, I LOVE that the kids get most of their ideas from video games and pop songs and Magic School Bus, because it goes a long way toward making them feel like real people with whom I want to be friends. However, that also means that, while a DVM like Michelle might have some ideas about how to improve upon even existing systems, the kids themselves probably don’t have any really brilliant insights. So even if they could make a hybrid, even if it managed to function, even if it was subtle enough to avoid huge attention... it still probably wouldn’t be useful.

Said another way: you could put scorpion claws on a tiger, maybe, if you were a tiger who had a scorpion morph and were also an estreen. But they’d be so small that they’d be useless to the tiger, and you’d be sacrificing the tiger’s front limbs to the claws, so now your tiger can’t walk. You could add a few extra limbs, and make the tiger small enough to use the claws, and build the necessary musculature to operate them, and have a scorpion brain so that you could manipulate the claws... At which point you’re just using a scorpion morph. Or you could let the tiger be a tiger, which would be a far more effective strategy than trying to mess around with several million years’ worth of evolutionary refinement.

#animorphs #morphing #body horror #animorphs meta #the proposal #35 #natural selection #morph hybrids #anonymous #asks

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peachyzens · 6 years

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love letters (two)

masterlist: previous | next

genre: fluff, angst summary: “Stars in the night sky can’t compare to the ones i see in your eyes.” Crushes were unconventional, especially the one you had on Kim Mingyu. (3,339 words) a/n: kind of late but here is part 2 of the series :~) masterlist can be found here!

The rest of your seventh grade year went by in the blink of an eye, the anticipation towards getting out of middle school fueling your senses. Your crush on Mingyu still remained as strong as ever, there was just one problem now.

You weren’t the only one.

Kim Mingyu has decided to try out for the basketball, or so you heard. Gossip went around near the end of seventh grade, soon reaching your ears. When you heard the rumors, you almost wanted to laugh out loud. The boy was adorably scrawny, there was no way he could survive on the basketball team without getting injured.

Eighth grade proved you wrong.

Kim Mingyu was now a popular jock in your local middle school, hell, he was even known by other schools. When he showed up on the first day of eighth grade significantly bulkier and taller, more people took notice of his cheeky grin and distinct features.

“Woah, who is that with Seokmin and Minghao?”

“I think he’s new, I’ve never seen him before!”

“Wow, he’s so tall and hot!”

“No way, you’re telling me that the hot guy is Kim Mingyu? Wow, what a glo-up!”

That being said, you weren’t the only one crushing on Mingyu. The trio, who was formerly seen only as a duo plus one, remained as the school’s sweethearts, having people fall for them left and right. You were slightly bitter, having discovered about the charms of Kim Mingyu way before these people would bat an eyelash at him, but that was just how it was. That’s all your connection was with him—a one-sided crush.

“I’ve missed you girls so much!” Rachel gushed, wrapping her arms around the three of you as best as she could when seated at the lunch table.

“It’s only been like three months, and we still met up during the summer!” Jennie rolled her eyes, yet falling into Rachel’s embrace.

“I know I know, but wow, summer really did good for some people. Like, have you seen Kim Mingyu? He’s crazy cute now!” Rachel gushed in a quieter tone, causing you to nearly choke on your water.

“Yeah! He really wasn’t lying when he said he was going to join the basketball team, but wow, it worked out great for him. He’s a complete king now!” Jennie gushed as well, you nodding in agreement. But in your eyes, he was always somebody that mattered.

As much as you agreed with all the gushing about Mingyu, there was that underlying anger at how people only paid attention to him now that he changed. You were there when he was he past self, and you were still here at his new transformation. Yet, you were in no position to say anything when the only person who knew that you were there for him was just yourself.

The halls were deserted at this time, yet your footsteps were echoing throughout. It was abnormally early to be at school, but it wasn’t the first time. For the first time in the new school year, you were going to leave another note in Mingyu’s locker. After your first note the previous year, you couldn’t stop hiding little notes in his locker. Whether it would be an inspirational quote you stumbled upon or some encouragement during difficult times, you quickly jotted them on your paper before sealing it up and slipping it in. Having done it many times, it was second nature to you by this point.

With your hands sliding your backpack off your tired shoulders, you set yourself down along the wall with a small smile. Just thinking about your letters and the impact they had on Mingyu made you happy, and you were hoping he felt the same way about them. Placing your backpack in front of your feet, you leaned your head back with a small sigh. Coming to school this early several days a week definitely took a toll on your body, with your dark circles becoming more prominent than before. You shut your eyes, resting them before the bustle of students entering would soon wake you up.

However, the sound of a frantic dash down the hall and your backpack flopping a few feet away woke you up sooner than you would’ve preferred. With an irritated opening of your eyes, you were almost stunned to see Kim Mingyu in front of you, profusely apologizing for the mess he made. Your heart stopped for a second, or at least it felt like it did, with how lost in your daze you were after seeing Mingyu.

“Are you alright? Once again, I’m so sorry, I was running late for practice and I wasn’t paying attention,” he rambled on, snapping you out of your daze. You realized that you hadn’t zipped your backpack up all the way, the contents slightly strewn about from the impact of Mingyu’s crash. He was frantically gathering all your supplies as you sat there.

“Huh? Oh, yeah! I’m sorry! You don’t have to pick it up, it’s my things!” you spoke up for the first time, now reaching for your scattered belongings.

“No, really, it was my fault! I wasn’t paying attention and I,” he paused mid sentence, taking your attention from the colored pens you were picking up. You turned to him to see his eyes stuck on something—your stationary, the same one you would write his letters with. With a look of horror, you quickly grabbed the stray pens and the papers out of his hands before shoving them back into your bag.

“Ha, well that’s the last of it! You should go now, you mentioned you were late and I don’t want to keep you here any longer!” You spoke, hoping he wouldn’t notice how hard your heart was beating against your chest and the bead of sweat that was threatening to fall from your forehead.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I should go. Sorry about that again.” He spoke in a distant voice, as if he had a lot of things on his mind. You were mentally cursing your carelessness, quickly standing up and heading in the opposite direction, not taking any more glances towards Mingyu to save yourself from the embarrassment. You let out a sigh of relief hearing his footsteps start to run again in the direction of the gym. You just missed the last glance Mingyu shot towards you, one that was filled with interest as a small grin appeared on his face.

“Wow, these are so cute! Why are you giving them to us though?” Jennie raised a questioning eyebrow at you, as Rachel shuffled through the sheets of stationary you were giving them.

“I bought too much, I thought it would be better to share them with you guys than let it collect dust in my desk.” You shrugged nonchalantly, hoping they would buy it. Jennie shot you one last wary glance before redirecting her attention to the stationary, soon the reason for her wariness forgotten as the cute puppies on the paper screamed her name.

You felt a weight lifted on your shoulder. You had thought long and hard about how to make Mingyu think that the admirer wasn’t you, you just weren’t ready to be found out so soon. Not to mention, there was rarely anybody around school that carried the same stationary as you, since the store you often purchased from was a hidden treasure only you knew about. Not anymore, there were two more individuals who carried the same papers, meaning there was a smaller chance that Mingyu could narrow the admirer to you. You felt bad using your friends cluelessness for yourself, but you had to do what you had to do.

“Dude, you need to tell me where got these papers ASAP, Mingyu actually spoke to me about them!” Rachel spoke once you all sat down at your usual table. Feeling your heart beat in nervousness, you asked for her to elaborate. “I have a class with him, and he sits in the back while I sit in the aisle. So when he was walking to his seat, he saw that I had these papers on my desk and actually stopped to ask me where I got them from!”

“Did he say anything else?” You spoke up, acting as normal as you could.

“No, I just told him I forgot the name of the store because I didn’t know what else to say! I was too stunned that the Kim Mingyu was speaking to me!” Rachel sighed in exasperation, soon mumbling about how Mingyu must think she’s an idiot. You felt yourself let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Jennie was too busy rolling her eyes at Rachel to take notice.

Been there, done that, you thought to yourself, finding Rachel’s reaction to Mingyu speaking to her much more relatable than anybody would’ve thought.

Living in a safe neighborhood, you were glad to be able to freely walk around at night, equipped with nothing more than your essentials and a pepper spray can just in case. You skipped down the street to your local stationary shop, having run low on supplies since giving some to Rachel and Jennie for damage control.

Feeling in a particularly good mood this night, you decided to take a small detour and pass through a neighborhood park you were familiar with in the past. Living in the same neighborhood since childhood, you practically knew it like the back of your hand at this point. You felt your feet drag yourself to the park you used to happily play at, expecting to have it to yourself.

What you didn’t expect was to see Kim Mingyu, sitting on a bench as he stared up at the sky.

You immediately stopped in your steps, staring at him with an awestruck expression. Not to mention, he looked totally endearing in his natural state. His typical jeans replaced by a pair of joggers, a simple graphic tee on his torso, and freshly washer hair that looked soft to the touch. You just stared at him with admiration in your eyes, you wanted to know how someone could be so beautiful without even trying.

As if he sensed your presence, he took his attention from the sky and brought it to you instead. His face showed an expression of recognition as he greeted you with a smile and a wave. Now, you stared at him with a shocked expression.

“Seeing each other a bit often now are we?” He spoke, with that stupid grin on his face that did things to your heart. “Want to sit?”He offered you, being the friendly neighbor he is.

Hell yeah! You thought to yourself, instead opting for a polite “sure” and taking a seat on the end of the bench furthest from Mingyu. Seeing how he glanced at the plastic bag containing things that would soon end up in his locker, you quickly put it on the other side of you, obstructing his view.

‘I’ve been stargazing for quite a while now, it’s really pretty out here.” He started speaking, the grin not leaving his face as he soon directed his attention back to the clear sky. Following his actions, you also turned to face the sky.

And boy, was he right. It was more than pretty, it was beautiful. Spending most of your time in a crowded city or stranded in your room, it was not common for you to take a look at the stars.

“Yeah, wow, it’s absolutely gorgeous. In the years I’ve lived in this neighborhood, I’ve never taken the time to look up,” you spoke mindlessly, your thoughts coming out and to his ears. He smiled in agreement.

“Yeah, I know. It’s been awhile since I’ve stargazed like this. With things getting more hectic, I haven’t found the time to sit out here. Say, you said you live in this neighborhood?” He asked, taking a glance at you.

“Born and raised,” you nodded. He nodded in understanding, and that ended your conversation. Instead, it was replaced by a comfortable silence as you both basked in the beauty of nature, the wonders of the sky doing all the talking for you. Although, he would occasionally speak up and point out constellations in the sky to you, naming them and a little bit of their history.

“Wow, you really know your stars don’t you?” you turned to him with a teasing grin. His cheeks slightly flushed.

“Y-Yeah, it’s something I’ve always been interested in, astronomy. It’s just so cool to learn what could be out there, and the expanse of how these things reach to. Like, did you know that our Sun is considered a medium star? Meaning, there are stars out there that are even bigger than we could ever imagine, and if they were closer to us then it would probably take over our Earth.” He rambled on, and you looked at him with interest. You probably fell for him even more, seeing how passionate and knowledgable he was when talking about stars. “Sorry, I keep rambling and you’re probably getting tired of it.”

“No! Not at all, it really is interesting stuff.” You reassured him, causing a the same smile that would give you butterflies to spread across your face. Before you two could initiate any further conversation, the vibrations of your phone cut through your comfortable silence. You pulled you phone out to see your dad questioning your whereabouts with a text, almost cursing him at his timing.

“I guess that this is my cue to leave, but it was really nice looking and learning about the stars Mingyu!” you stood up, slightly dusting off your pants. Mingyu stood up as well, stretching his body.

“Yeah, I’m sorry you had to listen to my rambles. Do you want me to walk you home?” He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile, turning to you. Your heart starting beating faster at the thought of him walking you home, your hands slightly brushing each other as you walked side by side. Steady conversation flowing out between you two, it sounded like the perfect cliche to fall in love to. “Hello? Earth to y/n?” He interrupted your daydreams, your face slightly heating up.

“No! It’s fine, you should head home too, it’s kind of late and there’s still school tomorrow.” You reassured him, despite more attempts to walk you home. As much as you would’ve like to have him walk you home, your heart wasn’t ready for the incessant pounding.

The next day at school, you saw Mingyu’s tall self in the hallway and smiled, the thoughts from last night seeping into your mind. Thinking he won’t see you, you were proven wrong when he returned the smile on your face and waved happily. Thinking he was waving to someone else, you quickly looked around to find someone to be returning his wave. But, there was no such person. He inwardly chuckled at your confusion, soon being dragged away by his teammate. When you turned around, you found him to have disappeared, much to your disappointment.

There was no way he was waving to me, there are a ton of people in the hallway he could be waving at.

“Hello? Earth to y/n?” The words were familiar to you, only now they were being said by a different voice. Just hearing those words brought your thoughts back to the previous night, only for them to be interrupted by Rachel shaking your shoulder. You finally snapped back to reality, salad falling off your fork and your friends shooting you wary glances.

“What?” You blurted out, knowing very well that you were zoning out.

“You keep disappearing from our conversations, I have to make sure there’s still someone in that little head of yours. What’s on your mind?” Jennie questioned, a sly grin on her face.

“Nothing, just worried about the future and stuff, you never know,” you pulled the answer out of thin air, hoping it would ease their worries. Even though Mingyu was known crush from other girls, they would freak out hearing you had a one on one session with him under the stars. Not like you were doing anything bad anyways.

“I know girl! There’s that dance coming up, the really fancy one! I wonder who’s going to ask who.” Rachel glared at her salad, lips pouting at the thought of a date.

“Whatever! Who needs a date, I got you girls as my dates!” Jennie squealed, excited to get ready in fancy dress for the night.

“Yeah! For sure, say, I’m going to run to the restroom real fast,” you excused yourself, grabbing your bag. The pair waved you off as you snuck out of the cafeteria, not actually heading to the restroom. You walked through the quad, filled with students scattered about, enjoying the time all students looked forward to—lunch. You sneakily stepped into the deserted hall, save for some people grabbing things from their lockers. Turning around the corner, you found the hall where Mingyu’s locker was, and felt yourself let out a sigh of relief seeing the absence of people in there. Grabbing a new letter from your bag, you quickly stuffed it into his locker as you passed by it, making it seem like you were doing nothing more than just walking past. After nearly a year of dropping letters in his locker, you were getting good at it. With a triumphant smile on your face, you went down the hall with a slight skip in your stride.

Stars in the night sky can’t compare to the ones I see in your eyes.

It was definitely a more cringe-worthy letter you ever wrote him, but you just wanted to find a way to incorporate stars into this letter. Not to mention, he did light up like the stars in the sky when talking about them.

Your heart slightly pounded as you headed back towards the cafeteria, thoughts filling your mind. You were worried he might figure out that you were his secret admirer, yet you waited three weeks to put this letter in just to be safe. There was no way he could come to an immediate conclusion that it was you. Constantly reassuring yourself, you walked through the doors of the cafeteria with a sigh. Hearing the sounds of cheering and clapping, you looked around confused. There was a crowd near the stage of the cafeteria, soon breaking apart after the fiasco. Your heart slightly stopped seeing Mingyu there, staring sweetly at some girl you’ve probably seen on the cheerleading squad.

“Will you be the Star of my Night?” his sign read, a large poster filled with references to the upcoming dance theme. Seeing the bouquet of roses in her arms, you could only assume that she agreed. Turning away with a heart slightly heavier than normal, you found Jennie and Rachel also taking glances at the scene.

“Wow, that was so cute! Did you see that y/n?” Rachel gushed, staring at the scene with envy. Your head felt stiff turning around to take another look at the happy new pair, still talking to each other with shy yet sweet smiles and giggles.

“Yeah, it’s adorable,” you forced out, slightly accepting the fact that you and Mingyu were no more than acquaintances. Ugh, never in a million years will he do something like that for me.

“Yeah! I heard they’ve been getting pretty close lately since he joined the basketball team and she’s the cheer captain, there’s a lot of talk going around about them.” Jennie spoke in a hushed tone, sharing all the gossip she’s heard the past few days. You ended up zoning yourself out of the conversation, Jennie and Rachel too busy sharing their details to notice, and fiddled with your fingers.

He was never yours, but why did seeing him with someone else hurt so much?

#seventeen #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu series #kim mingyu fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #mingyu au

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just-jordie-things · 6 years

Text

Gangster’s Paradise - Richie Tozier [chapter one]

word count: 2077 warnings: swearing, mentions of marijuana, mentions of selling marijuana, drawing penises (?) summary: y/n and richie were inseparable, that was common knowledge. but after the horrid events of ‘89, something drives a rift between them. and y/n isn’t the same girl that richie thought he’d fallen in love with.

Richie Tozier and y/n l/n were the best of friends since they’d met in the fifth grade. Having been introduced by Stan and they’ve been grateful for it ever since. y/n always being a little quieter than the rest, and Stan having found her reading a book. He thought she was sweet, and looked nicer than most the friends he actually had. She was, but when he introduced her to the other Losers, Bill Eddie and Richie, he regretted it. Because she’d taken an instant liking to Richie. And Stan knew that meant she couldn’t be the nice girl forever.

But she stayed quite true to herself. Even while being glued to Richie’s side twenty-four seven. Maybe she didn’t have the cleanest mouth and the purest thoughts, but she was nothing compared to his trashmouth tendencies. She was still the same y/n at heart. She still wore the sweaters that were far too big for her, like they were a hand-me-down handed down too soon. She still had the most worn out shoes anyone had ever seen, the soles worn thin and the laces tattered. She still had a smile like sunshine and the curious eyes of a child. This bubbly, sweet, good hearted girl, hadn’t changed since meeting Richie.

The Losers were surprised, but at the same time weren’t. y/n was always true to herself in every aspect of her life. It’s just who she was.

As time passed and middle school rolled around, life changed a little bit. The Losers didn’t spend as much time as they were able to in elementary school, and many classes they spent split up from one another. But that didn’t stop them from hanging out whenever possible. Especially y/n and Richie, their bond seemingly unbreakable. Every passing time in between classes he’d be there at her locker, leaning right up against it as they spoke about their previous classes, then splitting up for the next hour. Only to come together again for another three minutes of conversation. This would go on all day, until it was time to meet their friends outside at 3:15 to go home. Even then one would always follow the other home to do homework together… but most often not get any real work done.

One could argue that y/n and Richie had the strongest bond, out of everyone. The whole gang was very close, there was never a secret kept from another, everything always out in the open because of the security they all felt in one another. But somehow, him and her were always the closest. Always partnered up, always sitting next to each other whether it be on the couch or in lunch. It was natural. If y/n was late coming over for movie night, no one would dare take the empty space next to Richie. It was silently reserved.

Even if she wasn’t coming, no one would take it. But there was only one time she didn’t show up, and it was because she had come down with pneumonia. A nasty enough case of it that her mother had forbid her to leave the house.

They weren’t just emotionally closer though, it was physical too. She’d cuddle up with him, hold his hand, ride on the back of his bike. And he’d sling his arm around her shoulder, hold his hand over her knee, play with her hair. But it was always just natural, like a fiddling habit. And they were like that all through middle school.

Well, most of it.

The summer between seventh and eighth grade was when things really took a turn for the worst. What was supposed to be a good vacation before their last year of middle school, turned into a nightmare that would haunt them for the rest of their damned lives in Derry. In an attempt to locate Bill’s… kidnapped… brother Georgie, the Losers had all banded together as a search party for the boy. y/n would’ve done anything to help her leader look for the boy, but as time passed they’d become more and more discouraged.

And then It happened.

Taking what was left of their childhood innocence and torturing each and every one of them, along with a few new friends they’d made that summer. Using their worst fears against them, tricking them, playing with their mind. Every day was a battle for their lives and each night was a battle for a dreamless sleep. Knowing that in their dreams that damned clown would appear. It took weeks to defeat It, and even then they all knew deep down It wasn’t dead, not quite. But It was gone. And that must have been enough.

But it wasn’t enough to keep you together. To keep y/n around, and one of their new friends Beverly.

The Loser’s Club of ‘89 no longer had it’s two best girls in it.

While everyone was hurt that she never contacted them the rest of that summer, and when school started that she turned the other way when they were around, it was Richie who took it the hardest. The Losers had never seen him show so much emotion, ever. After the first two weeks of not hearing from y/n, he finally spoke out to the others, saying how worried he was that perhaps It had shaken her up more than the others, maybe she couldn’t handle it all the way they had. The boy had gone to y/n’s house later that week, waiting at the front door after knocking for six minutes. No one answered.

He did this every day for the rest of the summer, and not once had y/n come to the door. A few times he caught her father, who sent him away with an annoyed voice. But he still showed up, right up until the very last day of summer.

Richie sat at the front steps of the house that day, the rain seeming more dramatic as it dumped on him. But he didn’t care, just sat there and cried, wishing for some sort of answer why she had just dropped them all from her life, dropped him from her life. He’d thought they were more than that, he thought they were more than best friends, just barely reaching the point of being lovers. Never quite having the chance to be.

It’s been four years since then, and while the memories of that summer were always in their heads and always a worry they each felt in their chest any time a tragedy of some sort in town happened, it still wasn’t enough for y/n to go back, to look for the people she once called her best friends.

Richie was stood at Bill’s locker, drawing on the inside of it’s metal door with a sharpie marker while waiting for his friend to gather up his things for their next class.

“M-Mike has f-f-football practice t-tonight” Bill said, but Richie didn’t respond, just kept on drawing a very detailed image of a certain piece of male anatomy. “S-so h-he can’t hang out till f-fiveish”

“Kay” Richie mumbled, looking too focused on his doodling. Bill huffed slightly. This was the sixth penis he’d drawn in his locker this week.

Eddie’s locker had run out of room for them.

“S-so j-just y-you m-me Eddie and S-Stan” Bill clarified, not sure Richie was paying any attention at all to him.

“Sounds great” Richie replied in an unconvincing tone.

“Alright s-so you’ll b-be at th-the Barrens a-at f-four o’clock?”

“Uh huh” Richie agreed in the same bored voice. A few moments later capping his marker and shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. “Finished” He turned the door from where it had been wide open and against the next locker over, so that Bill could see. But Bill only rolled his eyes and shut the locker. “Aw come on Big Bill” Richie grinned lopsidedly as they walked together to Calculus.

“You-you’ll never g-grow up” Bill sighed quietly, and Richie shrugged.

“Good. Who wants to be a fuckin’ adult in this town anyways?” Bill didn’t respond right away, because he did have a point there. It seemed every grown-up in Derry was either miserable or angry all the time. Or worse, both.

“Y-yeah f-for once Richie y-you’re not wr-wrong” Bill agreed with pursed lips.

“Please, I’m never…” Richie trailed off, his eyes catching on something that completely pulled his attention away from Bill this time.

y/n, leaning her back against her locker as Patrick Hockstetter stood in front of her, his hand planted by her head as he leaned down close to speak quietly to her.

Richie’s blood boiled immediately out of instinct, assuming Patrick was harassing y/n like him and his goons did everyone. But as he walked past them, he saw a smile that was pulling on her lips, and the heat of his anger vanished as quickly as it came. Replaced with a hollow, and empty, jealousy in his chest.

“I-I guess that’s a th-thing n-now” Bill stammered as both boys continued walking on casually. Like one of the most life changing things hadn’t just happened.

y/n and Patrick!? Richie nearly scoffed out of disgust. She is so many million light years out of his fucking league, that cocksucker couldn’t get Greta Keene if he tried his hardest.

“Well good for fucking her” Richie just grumbled out and ignored the situation completely. Bill frowned, knowing Richie and knowing that there was still a bitter feeling inside of him when it came to you. But he didn’t say anything, and neither did Richie.

y/n scoffed with disgust as Patrick leaned closer, a devilish smile tugging on her lips. She felt lucky that the crowd in the halls were thinning as most of the students made their way to their classes.

“You owe me sweetheart, I nearly got caught selling to that dweeb two towns over. He came here for his supply” Patrick uttered.

“I don’t owe you shit Hockstetter, it’s not my fault you fucked up”

“I fucked up?” Patrick repeated with a bemused scoff. “Did you not hear me say that Jason came here for his fucking weed?”

“Will you shut the hell up before you get us both into trouble?” She hissed. “I shouldn’t even be fucking seen with you Patrick”

“Tough shit. But I need my cut, by tonight. Jason expects his usual order before midnight, and I’m not losing a fucking customer over something this stupid” y/n sneered back at him.

“Fuck up again, and I’ll cut you from dealing” Her usually sweet-like-candy voice dropped an octave and the glare in her eyes was poisonous. “I’ll get you Jason’s shit later” She told him, a roll in her eyes as she looked away in thought for a moment.

Her gaze landed on a familiar head of unruly black curls, accompanied by big coke lensed glasses and a tall lanky frame of a boy she’d lost but hadn’t forgotten. Her heart sank slightly in her chest as he walked along with his friend. Richie, it called. Richie look over here, I’m over here see? See me? Do you remember me?

“y/n, earth to fucking y/n” Patrick snapped his fingers and she looked back up at him, growing annoyed by his close proximity. She gave him a big fake smile that screamed threatening things.

“I’ll get your shit after school” She said through the faux grin. Then leaned up closer to add, “And if you ever, ever fucking cage me in like your little bitch again, I’ll remind you who the bitch is around here” Her voice was a growl.

Patrick stepped back, fully aware of what this girl was capable of when she was angry. The bell for sixth period rang and they were the only ones left in the hallway. y/n looked at him sharply, not saying a word as she turned and promptly walk away.

She smirked to herself, oh poor Patrick. Poor, mind twisted Patrick. Thinking he can take her down.

After school that day as y/n was walking down the sidewalk, her backpack on her shoulders and her shoes about to fall apart, she was looking around herself, almost suspiciously. Making sure that no one was watching her, before turning the corner and heading towards the school parking lot instead of heading home.

short first chapter, but it’s only just started.

taglist: @awtozier @fightmebub @depressed-trashcann @beepbeeprichtozier there’s now a section on my taglist for this series specifically! the link is in my bio

xoxo ~ jordie

#it (2017)#it (2017) imagine #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier series #richie tozier fanfiction #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard imagine #finn wolfhard scenario #finn wolfhard fanfiction #finn wolfhard series

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captainhotch · 6 years

Text

Good Taste | Betty Cooper

Betty Cooper x Reader, Veronica Lodge x Reader

Request; Could you do a betty cooper x fem reader, the episode were veronica comes to town and betty is showing around school and ronnie sees the reader by her locker and thinks she is beautiful but betty tells her that she is her girlfriend since hey were like 14 the reader is just like betty but more shy and sweet loves wearing yellow dresses , but v does not care and tries flirting with the reader until betty gets angry. Thanks if you can 😊😊

A/N; First imagine of the new year! I reached 400 followers on 1/1/18 exactly. Let’s see if we can get to 1000 by next year?

My Masterlist

School was back in session, much to your and the entire teenage population of Riverdale’s dismay. You absolutely hated everything about school, from the cliques to the disgusting food and Cheryl Blossom. The only thing that made the eight hour days even the least bit tolerable was your girlfriend, Betty Cooper.

Normally you would’ve walked into the school together. It was a tradition that you created during the summer of eighth grade when you started dating. You both agreed that starting the school year right would mean walking into the building together holding hands, much to Alice Cooper’s dismay, of course.

This time, however, you couldn’t. Betty had decided to join the Welcome Committee in 9th grade, something about building up her resume for college. Being on the Welcome Committee didn’t mean much at Riverdale High because new students never came. After all, who in their right mind would want to move to Riverdale (aka the most boring town on the planet)?

Betty had called you the night before and told you that she would be showing a new student around. Your first reaction was of course shock, but that was followed by understanding, and the happiness when you heard the glee in Betty’s voice. She was beyond excited to show this new mystery girl around.

When you walked into school, eyes instantly flitted your way, the gossips of the school immediately noticing Betty’s absence. You were dressed in a yellow, floral sundress with your hair tied into an up-do. You were already stressed enough about school, and did not want to be constantly pushing hair out of your face.

Betty was forced to arrive an hour earlier than everyone else in order to start the tour. The first notification of your phone when you woke up being an “I’ll miss you :)” text from Betty.

Your first stop in the building was your locked, which you had taken the liberty of storing the combination to in your phone before you left for break, knowing that you’d end up forgetting the combination of numbers.

Your attention was taken from the locker by an energetic brunette boy taking your book-bag out of your hand. “Have you seen her yet?” Kevin asked you in an excited voice, his eyes flitting all around the hallways in hopes of getting a glimpse of the new girl.

“Nope, and I’m assuming you haven’t either by your bubbling excitement. How the hell are you this energetic on a Monday?” You questioned, taking your binders out of the bag as Kevin held it up for you. He couldn’t help but to role his eyes.

“Well aren’t you just a little ball of sunshine.” He smiled sarcastically. “I will admit, I am loving that dress though. Very Betty Draper season 1.”

“I was going for more Quinn Fabray post pregnancy, but Betty Draper works too.” You shrugged, taking your bag out of Kevin’s hand.

You and Kevin had been friends for longer than you had even known Betty, him being the one to introduce you to each other. Something that Kevin loved to remind the both of you.

“Is that them?” Kevin asked in a hushed voice, pointing to a pair of girl’s walking down the hallway. You knew it was Betty and the new girl instantly when they turned around, the blonde’s gorgeous smile being visible from a mile away.

You sent Betty a wave, blushing slightly. You ignored Kevin’s quiet cooing at the adorable nature of his proclaimed “number one ship.”

You turned back around quickly, finishing organizing your locker.

You didn’t notice, but down the hall Veronica had her eyes set on your back, a smirk settled on her berry colored lips.

“Who’s that?” She asked Betty, pointing one of her perfectly manicured fingers on your direction.

Veronica thought you were gorgeous, but even that was an understatement. The grin painted on your lips from whatever the boy next to you was saying, was absolutely tantalizing. And your yellow sundress did you nothing but justice.

“Oh, th-that?” Betty stuttered, her eyes returning to your figure, which was now hunched over from laughing so hard at something that Kevin said. “That’s Y/N.” Betty continued.

“Well she’s gorgeous. And she definitely sticks out in this drab school. Maybe I’ll talk to her.” Veronica smirked again, looking down at her purple-painted nails.

“I don’t think you should do that.” Betty replied hurriedly, a bright pink blush taking over her cheeks.

“While I appreciate the concern,” Veronica paused, straightening her skirt, “I’m never one to turn down a challenge.”

Betty’s heart dropped as the gorgeous, and uber confident girl headed your way. She wasn’t worried about you falling for Veronica’s charms, as you were one of the most loyal people on the planet, she was more worried about your shy nature, and how intimidated you were sure to be by Veronica.

Betty quickly caught up to the girl, pulling on her arm to get her attention.

“Oh, I get it. You’re into her.” Veronica grinned, noting the blush on Betty’s cheeks. “You should’ve just told me that you had dibs. I would’ve backed off.”

“She’s my girlfriend.” Betty muttered, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly.

“Damn.” Veronica whistled. “Now I know we’re gonna be great friends. You have excellent taste.”

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gamesmakers · 6 years

Text

Back To Back

I’ll spend all my time with my friends anyway, so there’s really no point. The only thing having a date will change is how many pictures my mom wants to take before she lets me out the door. Expecting a woman to be escorted by a man – okay, boy, there’s nobody in my grade I’d call a man – is sexist and heteronormative. My happiness isn’t dependent on whether some guy I’ll never see again wants to go to a dance with me. I’ll probably be making my final decision on whether or not to go to prom the afternoon of, and it’s not fair to keep a guy waiting like that.

All reasonable excuses. True, none of them will convince Glimmer Hodge I’m not a loser, but neither has anything else I’ve done in our fifteen-year acquaintance. Naturally, like any other reasonable person, I take a second to weigh my options, select the best reason from my list, and present it -

“I’ve got a date,” I blurt out.

Glimmer’s caught off guard – score! – but she collects herself almost instantly, giving me her signature icy smile. “I’m glad. Pity dates are just the sweetest, aren’t they?”

“You’d be the expert in that field.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cinna’s mouth fall open before he covers the expression with a napkin.

“Marvel and I will see you there.” Like the mean popular girl from every 2000s high school movie, Glimmer has the turn/hair flip combo down.

“Sounds great, Glims!” I call after her. The nickname, which she had pushed everyone to use for about three weeks in eighth grade before she realized how eye-rollingly awful it sounds, must tick her off, but she makes no indication of it. Credit where credit is due - the girl’s good at what she does.

It takes about ten seconds for my bravado to disappear. My posture leaves with it, and I melt into a puddle on the table. It smells like cleaner, which though not pleasant is way better than anything else you’re likely to find in a high school cafeteria. That’s when the reality of the situation hits me. “I need a date.”

“You think?” Cinna pokes me in the back. “Sit up. Lunch period’s almost over.”

I obey, and he presses half of his cucumber sandwich into my hands. Rye bread. Gross. I take a bite anyway, forcing myself to swallow. “I really need a date.”

His brown eyes are full of pity. “Come over to my house after school. Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”

“Let me get this straight. You don’t have a date, you don’t have a dress, and you haven’t applied for the reduced-lunch tickets.” That sounds pretty bad when Jo puts it that way, but I nod. “And you need all of this fixed by Saturday night.” Another nod. “Shit, Everdeen.”

“Maybe Gale would be willing to take you?” Annie suggests. I’m still not sure why she and Jo are here. When Cinna told me to come over, I wasn’t expecting a freaking council meeting. Still, she’s the only one who’s put forward anything constructive so far.

I shake my head. “It took a month for him to shut up about how dumb his prom was. You think I can drag him to ours?”

Because she can never stay out of a conversation for more than two seconds, Jo butts in. “The two of you have been friends since forever. It stands to reason you would have some dirt to blackmail him with.”

The idea of me having any blackmail-worthy material on Gale is laughable. I’ve never seen Gale do anything more illegal than buy a bag of dry ice a week before his eighteenth birthday, and anything more personal is out of the question. We’re friends, and we went on a couple of awkward dates two summers ago right before he left for college, but soul-baring has never been our thing. “Anyway, MIT’s four hours away,” I add before Jo can come up with any more super-helpful suggestions. “He can’t exactly do that on a week’s notice.”

“Five days, actually.” Trust Cinna to be the details guy. He purses his lips while he thinks, then reaches for my backpack. He’s going to be disappointed when he realizes I’m out of the Orbit gum he likes.

I turn back to Jo and Annie. “Ideas?”

“Maybe Finnick could hook you up with one of his friends from the swim team,” Annie suggests.

“Maybe Finnick could hook me up with one of his teammates,” Cinna says. He looks up from my phone. I definitely never gave him the passcode to get into it, but now seems a little late to complain. “I went to the meet last week, and, well, I used to think the high school swimmers were hot, but after seeing the college boys…”

“I could just not go.”

To my surprise, it’s Jo who shoots that idea down. “And admit you were shitting Glimmer? Yeah, Everdeen, that’s a great idea.”

“I could pretend I was sick. I don’t have a dress anyway.” Even to my own ears, it sounds like a sorry excuse. It’s still not as sad as asking a friend of a friend that I’ve never met to take me to prom.

“Did you know that Katniss is Facebook friends with Baker Boy?” My heart stops at Cinna’s words. It’s not exactly surprising that he recognizes Peeta – Knead You to Loaf Me, which his family runs, has had a devoted, cult-like following in the area for twenty years – but I’ve made sure never to mention the youngest Mellark boy around him.

“We lived across the street when we were kids.” The excuse falls on deaf ears. Annie’s already leaning over me, craning her neck for a better look at my phone.

“Ask him,” she orders. When Annie’s set on something, she doesn’t do requests.

“I don’t think so.”

“Got a good reason why you shouldn’t?” She gives me maybe two seconds to come up with another excuse before she snatched the phone out of my hands. I can’t see what she’s typing, and I’m not sure I want to.

The phone buzzes almost the instant she sets it back down. “Huh.” Annie grins as she types something back. “Never would’ve thought Baker Boy as desperate as Katniss.”

“That’s ‘cause no one’s as desperate as Katniss,” Jo cuts in. She scurries away, laughing at her own joke, before I can kick her.

“It’s all yours from here.” Annie passes me back my phone. “But no worming your way out of this one, or I’ll hunt you down.”

“And her mom’s going to be pissed if she wrecks her dress doing it,” Cinna adds. He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “It’ll be fun, Katniss. Don’t worry about it.”

#cleaning out old folders #thg #everlark #idk if i'm ever going to write more of this #jsyk

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becoming-human · 3 years

Text

12/3/2020

diary entry re: friendship. read at your own risk.

i am so tired. all the time.

i stay up until three am every night and wake up at noon. i’ve all but given up on college and i don’t even know why. i don’t have a job. i sit in my pajamas at my desk all day and do nothing. i don’t have the motivation to do anything. it’s exhausting.

i was thinking last night about how easy it is for my friends to just.....spend time with each other? they just think “hey i’m lonely do you want to call and hang out?” and then do it. it’s wild.

i’ve never had good role models for interpersonal relationships. my parents don’t really have friends--certainly not ones they spend time with in person. my dad has some “friends” that he emails back and forth with and my mom has coworkers she is friendly with, but that’s really it. my dad is a depressed introvert that literally lives in the basement and rarely leaves the house (even before covid). my mom is a 0-100 workaholic--she’s either working hard at cleaning or her job or she’s sitting in bed watching documentaries. when my parents went looking for a house to raise my sister and i in they specifically looked for one that was secluded and distanced from other people. i think my mom does look for friends, but it doesn’t sound like she’s ever had more than one or two that’s ever been worth their shit. the concept of genuine friendship seems completely foreign to my dad; he’s always baffled and borderline upset when i am on long calls with my friends or i willingly spend hours with them in person.

point is that i really have no idea what it means to be someone’s “friend” because i was never taught. like most other things, i’ve had to figure it out on my own by finding something that works and sticking to it.

my dad views interpersonal relationships like a point system. if you do something for someone you’ll get points with them, and more points means theyre less likely to hate you or call you lazy or ungrateful. i didn’t realize how much i had internalized this belief until this year, which is sad.

i didn’t realize i had friends until this year.

okay. to explain. i had “friends”: people i cared deeply about, people i enjoyed spending time with, people i loved. but i was always under the belief that they didn’t love me as much as i loved them; in fact, i just accepted as truth that they kept me around conditionally or out of pity. it was such a solid truth to me that it didn’t even bother me. that’s just how it was. i didn’t know any different.

i learned quickly in middle school (after my social disaster trial run that was elementary school) that people liked to be listened to and people liked to be validated. this was the beginning of the “therapist friend” label for me: i became someone to unload your traumas to and tell your darkest secrets to and rant about your newest obsession to. and i would listen to all of it intently and offer advice and engage. a lot of people needed that--who doesn’t need a listening ear?--so i suddenly found myself with “friends”. this was foreign. i had friends in elementary school but most of them (that i remember) made fun of me or used me. this was different--suddenly i was being praised instead of bullied. i had found something that worked, and by god i was going to stick to it to a t.

i also realized early on, from a mix of my “no negative emotions” home life and my dealings with my early middle school friends, that my love and my practices about being a listening ear would not be reciprocated. being a “therapist friend” meant being put together enough for people to feel comfortable talking to you, and that meant not talking about your own problems with them. and, in the early years, i was so repressed that i refused to believe that i even had problems.

as i got into seventh and eighth grade and stuck with some friends that were actually worth it, i hesitantly started to branch out. only with the friends i was really close to (aka friends i spend the most time with and friends that had opened up the most to me). i started bringing up my own troubles with my sexuality and my home life and my depression, to mixed results. some would be supportive and listen as i had done with them; others treated it as a competition and made fun of me for calling them problems at all. most just pretended to listen and then moved on. that was okay--that was expected. my trial run over, i closed off again with all but one of my friends.

(to be clear. middle school was a mess for all of us and i don’t hold anyone but myself accountable for closing off.)

so anyway. high school. oh god. retrospect is a bitch.

i thought i was a good friend in freshman and sophomore year. in reality, i was used over and over again as a punching bag and a scrapegoat. i’m not going to go into it. if you know you know. point is that i never realize just how toxic things had gotten because i still genuinely believed that being a good friend meant taking all of it--the good and the bad. and if i came home and climbed into bed and cried then that meant i was a bad friend--i couldn’t handle them when they were at their worst, i had failed them. so i would go in the next day and be even better, even more submissive. and maybe, sometimes, every couple months there would be a spark of something nice: they would bring me hot chocolate or say “thank you” or give me a hug or laugh at something i said instead of just at me. or maybe they would have a meltdown in the bathroom and text me for help and i would escort them to the school nurse. and that, to naïve me, would make it all worth it, because it proved to me that they did like me and they did want me as a friend. it also reinforced the idea in my brain that every time i came home feeling bad about myself (more often than not) i was betraying them, because look at how they needed me! and i was considering abandoning them? in their obvious time of need? it was this endless cycle of self hatred. toxic and emotionally abusive friendships are very real, and sometimes you don’t realize it’s happening until it’s far too late.

honest to god, i chose online school junior year because the thought of going back to deal with them was just too much. (and for those who don’t know, these are two separate people with two separate friend groups). i did abandon them, sure. from their point of view maybe. but i’m not sure i would’ve survived any longer with them. they had their own shit to figure out and i was not about to subject myself to their constant harassment any longer.

unfortunately, as i started online school, this predicament raised a new and very important question for me: i had done what i was supposed to, but it didn’t work. what do i do now? if my “therapist friend” job had stopped working then who was i? how was i going to be a friend?

i started by rekindling things with my best friend--the only one who had listened in middle school. she was an online student too so we started working on projects together. she reminded me through her love and her actions what true friendship was--and i started to realize just how bad things had gotten in her absence with my other “friends”. my online enrollment gave me an excuse to cut out the toxicity but for a while i was left with very few people. i became very closed off, even to my friends from high school that had actually kind to me. junior year, even with k present, was extremely lonely. i had no idea how to stay in contact with people. they had always been the ones to come to me first when i was the therapist friend; i assumed that if they didn’t come to me then they just didn’t need me, and that was okay. i didn’t reach out because there was nothing to say. it’s stressful for me to maintain a conversation over text. i can’t see people’s faces or hear their intonation and everything is so short and to the point. i am a rambler by nature and i talk a mile a minute, so text/chat is not my medium of choice. and if they text or call just to ~check in~, it always felt (and honestly, still feels, although i’m trying to get over it) like a chore they had to complete to honor their own inner point systems. not their fault--they never said or did anything to make me feel unloved. this was purely my own doing.

senior year things started to look up. i rejoined choir in the public high school so i got to see my friends in person--that’s when i started finding people that treated me well. i started to feel happier about myself and more confident in my abilities as a friend. i still didn’t know exactly how to be a “friend” but i did want to learn. this time i went more for the “playful banter” route with a mix of therapist friend on the side. i think it’s worked out relatively well. i also started playing dnd, and that helped boost my friendships a lot. i still didn’t open up a whole lot but i was starting to feel comfortable and safe and happy with the people i was spending time with.

and then covid happened and everything plummeted again.

like i said, i just have trouble over text. i lost contact almost immediately with pretty much everyone. i could’ve done more, for sure. but i just did know how. i still don’t. once again, i was in the same mentality i was in junior year, except this time it was worse--if they did reach out, i would leave them on delivered because i just didn’t have the energy to respond.

here’s the thing. my friends have all seemed to master the casual aspect of friendship. i had no idea how to. every time i interact with someone it’s a performance and a display--every time it’s a job. every time i prepare myself to listen and to be submissive, even if i don’t need to. it doesn’t matter if i enjoy the people i’m with. this is just how it’s always been--this is always how it’s had to be. or so i thought.

mid-quarantine i had a call that went until three am and, quite honestly, changed my life. k and a and i can call for hours, and just to be clear here, i love calling them. we had been facetiming for so long--it was ridiculous. eventually we got to the point in the night where everything switches from basic conversations about boobs and farts and crushes and books and whatnot to emotional contemplations. i don’t exactly remember how we even got there, and i don’t remember what was said. but i do remember feeling a sudden and deep shift in myself. it was incredible. all three of us talked about our relationships with the others--how our friendships had grown and changed and developed over the years, and how much we meant to each other. and it got to my turn and i made the decision to be vulnerable--probably for the first time since middle school, if not earlier. and they listened, and they encouraged me, and they didn’t make fun of me when i chickened out a few times. they were friends to me.

and i realized, in an incredibly stupid moment, that my friends were right there.

i wish i could say things changed after that and everything was wonderful, but it wasn’t. being vulnerable is still a challenge. i still don’t answer my texts. spending time with people still feels like a performance. but i don’t feel as alone anymore. for the first time i’ve realized that the thing ive been searching for my whole life was right there in front of me this whole time and i was just too dumb to see it.

epic poggers moment.

anyway, all this to say that i feel guilty for not answering my texts ever but i appreciate my friends so fucking much and i love them and would die for them--but, more importantly, i know for sure that they would do the same for me. i have a support system. it rules. i know i can reach out when i need to. and i’m trying to get better at actually doing it.

but i’ll never fucking understand how yall can just get together so casually like HOW do you do it do you not have to prepare yourself its EXHAUSTING lmfao. idk. its probably just a me thing.

#mel rambles #diary entry

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mei-lingere · 7 years

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How I got “Good” at Anatomy

(I would’ve answered this privately, but I felt like it made sense to answer it public.)

My background as an figure-drawing artist

<<<LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!! :: >>

I pulled them all out. ALL my old sketchbooks. The current sketchbook total is 16. (But not really, most aren’t completely filled because they are like special paper or whatever.) But the point is: I HAVE 16 sketchbooks.

I draw constantly, which makes it very easy to improve.

1. Ask yourself: Where am I at?

Clearly I didn’t pop outta the womb with skill for anatomy. No one does.

Here is a survivng drawing from elementary school:

This is some elementary school crap. I hid hands so i didn’t have to draw them, long skirts to i didnt have to draw legs, and figures would only ever face forward.

These drawings are from eighth grade.

My figures were resembling human but just not looking... right. I was drawing figures that looked choppy and oddly placed. I rarely drew from reference or from real life.

But by the end of eighth grade I began expanding my reference. I began to practice different angles, foreshortening and drawing from reality.

My drawings were still odd looking and disproportionate but I was making the attempt to improve.

The only way to improve at anything is being able to identify what you need to improve. Stop avoiding it, stop puting hands behind backs. Draw them. Those drawings are gonna suck. They are. But the 80th time you draw those hands, they won’t.

2. DRAW FROM REAL LIFE !!

The summer into 9th grade, I took an actual art class for the first time, and

I began doing figure drawings. Exercises where I was given 30 seconds to draw a figure. I was terrible at it.

Later that summer, I took a trip to the National Gallery of Art and drew some statues, easy, still-life figures. I liked these. I had no time limit.

a. Before you start drawing from people, draw from reference. Non-moving reference. Focus on the shapes. The shading. Focus on the details.

b. But, as you begin to draw real people, focus on the main idea of the figure. Don’t focus on details or being 1000% accurate. Don’t focus on drawing textures or individual strands of hair.

Focus on getting the natural motion of human movement. Focus on the large details, position of the body, clothes folds.

Recently, I’ve been addicted to drawing from real life. I’ll fill entire pages of just figures of other students in my classes. My drawings aren’t always good, because they don’t need to be.

If you are able to practice both details and main ideas, your drawings will become for natural and realitstic.

3. Draw A LOT; Think A lot

(Draw constantly, the best way to improve is to do it a lot. Not a deep concept.)

But what I mean by think a lot is the easy part. When you’re out doing your thing, look at people, look at light and shapes, or what ever you want to draw. Think about how you would draw it. Where the light is coming from, how far apart things are. Stuff like that.

Here is a list of Tutorials that I have in my bookmarks.

SenshiStock Pose Generator (no nude figures)

Ideal Body Types Throught History (Women)

go through the video

just pause at any moment and draw

I would suggest drawing from anything regarding “100 Years of...” Typically they have good body type and racial variation, along with moving models. (BuzzFeed is most reliable though.)

But there are other channels: Glamour Magazine: 100 years of Women’s Underwear

(only mildy awkward to watch, but this model moves around a lot)

Helpful Art Masterlists

http://veesdumpingrounds.tumblr.com/reference http://kelpls.tumblr.com/helpfulthig

tldr: Figure out what ur shit at, and work on it. Draw from real sources. Focus on details when doing still life. Focus of important elements when drawing from moving figures.

Hope this helped!

#anatomy #drawing #sketchbook #thank you for asking #its-nice-i-think #long post #Mei speaks #tutorial #anatomy drawing #anatomy tutorial #ref #anatomy reference #reference #art ref #art #art reference #figure drawing

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thinkingaboutsanfrancisco · 4 years

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Like water bursting free from the confinements of the dam, he finally starts to pour out the cocktail of sweet, delectable, context for me. It quickly drowns out his meaningless suggestion of being concise, but I'm not going to refute statements of immunity. I'm not mad, his lack of pith doesn't bother me. Shocking, I know, but at this point it's the only thing that is going to get me to any potential realm of understanding so I can possibly add anything of value before I eventually return home and resume anxiously stewing in my own regrets. It has to be getting late by now. Pulling out my phone and openly checking the time would be rude, so I have to take a long deep breath to still that pestering, habitual, urge. My homework was done on Friday night, surviving school on no sleep is a mastered art by now, my phone hasn't buzzed and the owl cars can carry me home if need be. I don't need to look at it. I don't need to be reminded again. Shifting more towards him, I extend my arm on the back of the bench and bring it up to rest my cheek on my palm, tuning into the spectacular story of S and Lyd.

It all begins when they're...even younger than I am? Really? Yes, he's older than me, but not by much. Certainly not enough to warrant this old man-whippersnapper dynamic he keeps putting us in. But, technically, he is right. They're...thirteen and fourteen? Middle school?! Oh Jesus Christ...

Say no more, S. I get exactly the nauseatingly obnoxious tone you're going for. Anything that sprouts in eighth grade is destined to be a fucking weed. I seriously believe that it'd be best if we just abolished that year completely, let puberty set in some so that no one has to witness the horrifying process and then resume in highschool. The slight decrease in bullshit exposure would have a major impact on the state of humanity, I assure you.

His story starts off more Wonder Years wholesome than initially expected. He sees her, that dangerously random and impalpable switch is flipped in his head where everything else in his world is rendered nebulous and she's now the only thing he can focus on, he does something with it and asks her out, gets luckier than a lotto winner when she agrees, and they date. I have to admit that I'm continuing to struggle thinking of him as anything other than his current form of a lanky college student by day and my coke supplier by night. Trying to visualize his last story that took place this morning was hard enough, but I eventually could conjure it. Beyond our burners and serving our burnouts, there's always the shining side of the coin: the life that makes walking carefully through these shadows worth enduring. It might've taken a while to grasp, the autopilot we run on out here that blinds us to the human qualities of our customers and dealers takes a minute to switch off, but it's not too hard to buy him having it to comfort someone who means something to him. We've all had to be someone's shoulder to cry on at least once in our lives, him selling me discounted grams and eight balls on a Friday night doesn't exclude him from doing that on a Saturday. He's human too.

Him as a teenager though, younger than I am...I fucking can't. I keep having to put his current self in as a visual placeholder, despite knowing damn well that he didn't have facial hair or probably as long of a drawl at fourfuckingteen, but what the hell else can I do? Imagine him freaking out on her with that same cracking barely pubescent voice that I mouthed off with too? I'd rather not. It's an amusing discrepancy but just makes it more glaringly obvious of my weird spot that I've put myself in: too deep to where I'm hooked, still not deep enough to make something out of it. I need to settle down though. He's still setting up the foundation for me and I find my lips spreading into a sardonic grin when he puts out a metaphor he knows I understand. Addiction. But him being addicted to her being akin to how he's addicted to his favorite movie is such a saccharine view of it that my stomach turns like I've eaten too many Pixie Sticks. He doesn't realize how natural his voice picks up that speed, how his eyes can still grow that agape and filled with wonder. Everything he's talking about is so innocuous that it's practically rated G, which should be a welcome change given the complete smut film that was this morning, but I've seen that same foolish look in so many other people that I can't revel in the glory of that summer pinnacle he continues to hold within him now. It's a good thing too. The comedown's already here and, while there's never any subtly to the crash, there's something painful in his frank brevity. He has to rip this moment off like a band-aid because it still hurts to think about a decade or so later and...

Is this what's going to happen to me?

I know everything feels eternal on a bad night but...is it truly going to be like this forever? Am I still going to want to bash my phone against my head over all of my miscues with Ray when I'm my fucking twenties?

Quit worrying about it. I won't even know her then.

Surely I'm never gonna cross her mind twice once she graduates and leaves my sight for better pastures---or even before if she caught my stupid drift and already said bon voyage in my inbox. God knows where the fuck I'll be, but she's too good to let herself linger in my rotting brain. She's like a shooting star, a bright little blip that dazzles into my highschool life as quickly as it leaves the sky with nothing and all I can do is sit here in the dark and watch. That's just how the world works.

You can't control fate like that.

I wish I could tell New Year's Eve 2006 S this, maybe it could've spared 2015 S from having to recount a story that chews up my silly moment of existentialism and spits it out...

Initially, it doesn't start off bad but that's becoming a reoccurring theme so I'm able to brace myself for the first bout of secondhand cringe. It's nine years ago, he's drunk and oblivious this time, and she unexpectedly breaks up with him. New Year, New Me makes me groan, but it's manageable. Unlike what happens next...

"My best friend, he looks at me, and he says - I saw Lydia making out with some guy in the bathroom. Before she broke up with you.”

Any humor that I could ever have found in this situation has drained out of me like the warmth in my body as I just stare at him, struck as stunned as his friend who had the misfortune of watching it unfold. The maniacal laugh is back again, but it does nothing to shake me from being frozen by the complete and total violation of trust that thank god I've only had to aurally witness. If anything, I at least can understand his reaction now. Hell, I can fucking respect it. It must've taken years to develop the ability to even breathe normally again after hearing about that, much less pace back and forth trying to escape the inescapable. I can't even fucking move, despite my brain screaming at me to tell him that I absolutely don't want to hear anything more chilling because I think I've heard enough of this story that I've regretfully asked for. I get the jest. They had a decade long unstable relationship, everybody's wrong, and the right thing to do is for them to not get back together again. Fuck, I can even offer him a slice of optimism now. It's a good thing that it didn't work out today, S. It's a really good thing. She's as insouciant with your feelings now as she was then and the only way it's ever going to stop is if you stop being oblivious and quit letting her walk all over you. You know it and--- "It was a day after I told her I loved her for the first time. She said it back, but…I guess she didn’t mean it, huh? Anyway..."

Now I do too.

He keeps going on, something about 2008 and...I don't know why the hell he feels it necessary to bring up James Dean but it doesn't matter. I can't listen and I don't have to. There's absolutely nothing that he can say or she could do that could shock me more than that. There's nothing anybody could do that's worse. Her physically ripping into his chest and taking his heart only to run over it several times before apathetically tossing it back to him would've been better...at least the pain would have to stop after a while and he wouldn't have to linger with the chronic ache he's been suffering from. It's humane in comparison to her fatal lie...but... "I feel like I’m fucking dying. My head hurts. So that’s the brilliant story of how I went balls deep on my ex-girlfriend right after she got cheated on. You like it? You got any fucking thoughts? Let me know. Let me know, because I’m about to have a conniption if I can’t find any reason in her unceremonious sort of break-up text. Swear to god..."

If it weren't for that, I'm not sure I'd ever be able to come back to the present...which is weird because I've never physically left it. Every memory of his is new information to me and there's so much of it that it actually makes what was exchanged with her tonight seem like an eternity ago. I have to remember that he's supposed to be the one who committed a heinous act by sleeping with her after her boyfriend cheated on her, I have to remember that she came to him crying over it, I have to remember that she isn't totally heartless and that he was the only person who's ever truly been there for her. I have to remember that this is my drug dealer and some girl I've never even met and...I have to remember to be careful. I'm definitely in too deep now and it'd be just about my luck if my fate got sealed out here without any coke at stake just because I saw past all of the nostalgia and possessed the audacity to call a spade a spade.

Maybe that's why he called me out here. Maybe I'm the only person who can say it.

My eyes close as I remove the disintegrating Parliament from my lips, breathing in and trying to bring myself back to all those fucking thoughts that I had...

"Well...there is a reason. As nonsensical, unfair, and sometimes downright cruel the world can be, within it's burning core always remains a reason and...I think you know it. Or, at least, I'm led to believe you maintain a good idea of it. You said yourself that you don't know why you're surprised because it ends up in the same shit every time and I don't think you need me to elaborate on the inevitability of the result. You two are not meant to be, and no matter how good both of your intentions are or everything else that's changed in your lives, this decade long track record cements the truth. She knows what you want and if she couldn't give that to you ten years ago and couldn't give it today, she's not going to give it to you tomorrow either. The only thing that's gonna change is when you realize that Lyd the majestic fucking angel is a joke that you don't have to keep falling fool to. You shouldn't have slept with her last night and she shouldn't have slept with you either, you're both wrong and you've both have been wrong. You've come full circle. We can sit here for another two hours and agonize over how shittily she's gone about it, but the fact is that it was honest. Brutally honest, but that's become her specialty. At least it's clarity. She's decided to move on and, if you want to finally break this long and suffocating chain, you should too. No one person is worth that much pain."

#/stopyourtrain #the bros #04122015

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televisor-reviews · 5 years

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Top 10 Worst Movies Of 2017!

As everyone is gearing up for their 2018 lists, I prefer to take that extra year to see as much crap as I could from the year before! Now, keep in mind, even with that extra year to watch as many movies as I possibly could, I still didn’t see everything. So, as awful as I’m sure Baywatch or The Bye Bye Man are, I just didn’t around to seeing them. If you want a comprehensive list of every single film I did see from 2017 in order from best to worst, you can go here: https://letterboxd.com/animatorreviewa/list/every-2017-movie-ive-seen/

#10. A Bad Moms Christmas Bad Moms (2016) was a surprise hit with both audiences & critics: with interesting characters, some really funny moments, & a clever moral; it wasn’t anything that would win an Oscar, but if it was on, I wouldn’t complain. A Bad Moms Christmas on the other hand: has annoying as hell characters, obvious humor, & the same damn moral from the first film! In a world with the MCU, which is constantly trying different & unique things, especially with their sequels in hopes to make them stand out, this kind of cheap, cash-grabby sequel with no heart or care put into it simply has no place. If this came out in the ‘80s or ‘90s, it’d be un-notable among Caddyshack 2 & A Christmas Story 2. But in today’s day & age, these kinds of sequels are a relic of a time once left & forgotten & for good reasons. It’s unfunny, uninteresting, & just straight up awful! If I wasn’t keeping track of these movies, I would’ve easily forgotten about it.

#9. Diary Of A Wimpy Kid: The Long Haul Growing up in the early to mid-2000s, I grew up with the Diary Of A Wimpy Kid books. I remember being very excited when the movies came out, & to this day, the books & movies continue to be (at the very least) guilty pleasures. The Long Haul book kept with the spirit of the series, being about a relatively un-notable piece of someone’s childhood, mixed with the feeling of being of nostalgic reminiscing while keeping with the spirit & imagination of a preteen. Its lack of reliability & humor that made past books more enjoyable made The Long Haul my least favorite DOAWK book, but it was still notably timeless as it had little to no potty humor or modern technology that tends to ruin perfectly nice children’s media. The DOAWK movies tend to have the same feel, like it’s just as relatable for children at the time as it would be for kids 50 years from now. What made the films so enjoyable, as opposed to the books, is the spot-on chemistry & acting of the cast. Everyone seemed believable in their roles, Zachary Gordon felt like a genuine kid making genuine kid decisions how a genuine kid would act in a genuine kid filled world. The Long Haul movie is absolutely nothing like these. It relies heavily on bad potty humor, horrendous acting, scenes too out of this world to ever seem believable, & characters who act nothing like any human being. The Rodrick in book & first 3 movies was a dumb older brother who compensated by bullying around his younger brother while still being somewhat caring towards him by giving him honest advice (even if it’s bad). The Rodrick in this would have a hard time breathing & walking at the same time. There was way too much use of modern technology, making it unrelatable to older audiences & cringy to younger audiences, who’re smart enough to know that the old farts making this probably never met a child before. Diary Of A Wimpy Kid: The Long Haul was an unfunny, annoying, & unrelatable slog! #NotMyRodrick

#8. Bigger Fatter Liar Coming about a decade too late, Bigger Fatter Liar is mostly unfunny & annoying. It’s a repeat of the first movie except less funny, less interesting, & less Frankie Muniz. I cannot over-exaggerate how much I hate these kinds of sequels: the kind that takes a great comedy, strips any of the humorous moments, repeats the plot point-for-point, mostly repeats the jokes point-for-point, & adds nothing of interest or value. This is why Vacation made my Top 10 Worst 2 years ago, this is why Bigger Fatter Liar makes my list now. Just like Vacation, it takes a bunch of ingenious build-ups from their original film & fucks up the punch-line by being too over-the-top. Now, going over-the-top isn’t inherently bad (Ghostbusters & Spaceballs are 2 of my favorite comedies & their very over-the-top), but it can be easily overdone, & when it is, you get The Big Bang Theory. I guess what I find most perplexing is who is this made for? Anyone who grew up with Big Fat Liar are too old to be interested in an obvious cash-grab & younger children who might’ve been shown it by their parents aren’t going to be shown it because their parents are smart enough to not show it to them! I can only assume its target audience are people like me, who go out of their way to find the worst movies they possibly can, & this is a damn good contender.

#7. Snatched There really are few things in the world as hard to watch as a bad comedy as so far, it’s made up my entire list & Snatched isn’t going to be the last. Snatched is one of those comedies that has some serious tone issues. You’re supposed to laugh even after Amy Schumer & Goldie Hawn are kidnapped & probably almost raped! I’ve heard of dark comedy, but that’s a hard sell especially since it isn’t a dark comedy! It has generally pretty light humor in it that you’d see in A Bad Moms Christmas or The House, & though those movies are also quite terrible, Snatched puts them in the context of one of the really bad Scary Movies. This film offers the kind of balls you’d see in Deadpool or The Hitman’s Bodyguard but instead gives the least daring comedy in years. It’s humor is safe but doesn’t have the context of a safe film.

#6. Woody Woodpecker I’m going to be entirely honest... I never really liked Woody Woodpecker. I never found him funny or enjoyable, he’s always been just annoying. Now take the concept of a classic character who’s only personality trait is being annoying & make an entire annoying movie around him with the animation that’d make some of the D-list Blue Sky movies look like Pixar & you get the Woody Woodpecker movie. A movie that literally nobody needs to see! The story is... well, who cares? It’s a Woody Woodpecker movie in the style of The Smurfs, who cares about anything in this? You wanna know how bad it is? Guess... you’re right. How about the comedy... you’re right. It has so few twists & turns that if you simply imagine what it’s like, you’ve seen it. Congrats, you saw the 6th worst movie of 2017.

#5. F The Prom Say what you want about the Smosh movies or the Shane Dawson docuseries, but at least they’re naturally creative people doing creative things. Sure, Ghostmates is horrendously edited, but at least it’s made by people with experience at making popular sketch comedy with an actual audience. The Mind Of Jake Paul probably didn’t go as deep as it should’ve, but at least it’s made by someone who’s used to having to be energetic & humorous on the spot & has an audience who likes his stuff. The Fine Bros. have limited experience at being creative. All of their hit series (Kids React, Elders React) have been based around other people’s creative reactions to someone else’s creative content. And I’m not saying that doesn’t take some hard work; they must have a talent at finding people-pleasers, getting the kinds of reactions to make a compelling opinion, editing them together as to not fuck up their opinions nor the original content, & marketing that to the right audience. That’s why I think they’d make for decent producers, but creative types they are not. That’s why their more creative series like Emo Dad & MyMusic ended as failures with little fanfare. F The Prom was directed & written by the Fine Bros. & watching it, you can tell that everything I just said was true. It’s just a knockoff of The D.U.F.F. which was a knockoff of The Breakfast Club! Why would you want to be The D.U.F.F.? The critical bomb no one saw because it’s nothing like anyone’s high school experience? They both have all the tellings of an ‘80s high school (queen bee cheerleaders, bully jocks, bullied nerds, etc.), which is fine, but then they threw in cell phones & emojis to relate to modern day teenagers. Doing so alienates older audiences who didn’t have sexting when they were in high school & alienates modern teens who don’t have these kinds of cliches anymore. It’s funny that they have a hit series called Teens React because they pretty clearly didn’t ask any of them what modern high schools are like! I was hoping that The Edge Of Seventeen would bring on a wave of great teen movies & Eighth Grade would bring on a wave of great YouTuber movies. But I guess the Fine Bros. had the worst YouTuber movie & 2nd worst teen comedy ever still in them.

#4. CHiPS Okay, I didn’t realize that this list would be made almost entirely of bad comedies, we just happen to be in a bad age for comedy so you’ll have to deal with me typing “unfunny” a little bit longer. CHiPS is cheap & unfunny garbage that I wish I never saw! Every joke was just “sex this” & “sex that” which is fine in moderation & with good writing, but this has neither! It’s trying to be 21 Jump Street but doesn’t understand that what made that so great was it’s clever humor to parody the original franchise & reboot movies as a whole, not just cheap sex jokes! You want to get drunk? Take a shot every time they mention sex, you don’t even need other rules, you’ll be dead 10 minutes in! There’s no cleverness, no nuance, nothing of substance to make it even worth talking about! And that’s why it’s #4!

#3. Let There Be Light Here’s the obligatory Christian movie, I’d stop including them if they stopped being so badly made. The writing, acting, story, cinematography, everything (& I mean everything) seems like they were done by people who don’t know how to make a movie because they were. Christian movies aren’t made to be interesting or Oscar contenders, they’re made to propagate their shitty ideals. That Christianity is good, all other religions are bad. It is, quite literally, propaganda. Which isn’t inherently bad. What is bad that it’s in the service of hatred towards the other (whether it be Atheists, Muslims, gays, etc.) & it’s really badly made. And don’t think that I hate all Christian movies just on principal simply because I myself am a bisexual Atheist. I love Angels In The Outfield, Field Of Dreams, & VeggieTales just as much as everyone else. I hate bad Christian movies that open with 9/11 for literally no reason other than to say “fuck Muslims”. I hate bad Christian movies that support hating others rather than love & acceptance (like what Jesus Christ preached). I hate bad Christian movies that hate me because of how I was born for no reason other than because an old book told them to. There, have I made my point yet? Can these movies please stop being made?

#2. Pitch Perfect 3 I know it’s weird to follow up “this movie hates gay people” with Pitch Perfect 3, but I saw this in theaters surrounded by a bunch of middle-aged women who seriously need to get laid laughing with that kind of annoying theater-people laugh every time a character literally named Fat Amy said “I’m fat, ppppffffttttt!!!!” I have never had such a negative theater experience & the fact that I still had to sit through a movie as bad as Pitch Perfect 3 didn’t fucking help! I can’t stand this movie! It’s annoying, frustrating, unfunny, cheap, & all around bad... but so was A Bad Moms Christmas & Snatched & they were delegated to #10 & #7 respectively. What made Pitch Perfect 3 particularly awful to sit through? Well I wish death upon the audience I saw this with, but there is one more thing... The Pitch Perfect movies weren’t ever, well, perfect but they were perfectly fine, harmless films. There’s a few decent laughs, I like Princess Poppy in them alright, I think the singing was genuinely good. But what separates those films from their sequel is their basis in reality. The Pitch Perfect films always took place in a very realistic, very grounded reality. Pitch Perfect 3, on the other hand, opens with all of the main characters tied up on a Bond-esc villain’s boat, about to be murdered because Fat Amy is his daughter & reasons. If that isn’t jumping the shark, I don’t know what is! And I would accept this if it was fun, but it’s not. In fact, it’s barely focused on until the last half hour when it’s entirely that. The rest of the film is just a less funny Pitch Perfect. Wouldn’t be good, but not 2nd worst movie of 2017 bad. But it’s just so unfunny & the story so convoluted & the audience that annoying! I hate everything in this, I can’t imagine anyone liking this! Fuck this movie!

Before we get to #1, here’s some runners up:

Sandy Wexler I think both I & Adam Sandler are tired of the general Adam Sandler shtick. Encapsulated by the fact that I didn’t include this on my list & Sandler releasing critically praised films such as The Meyerowitz Stories (New And Selected) & 100% Fresh right after this. There’s nothing of note or particularly interesting about Sandy Wexler when compared to Grown Ups or Pixels. It’s another bad Adam Sandler movie, the same as any other, I’m just happy that they seem just about over.

Wish Upon I heard a lot of people consider this film so-bad-it’s-good but I didn’t enjoy its awfulness quite that much. But I did enjoy it just enough to keep it off of the list. There’s lots of accidentally funny moments in this, just not as many as I was hoping.

The Emoji Movie I know a ton of people put this as their worst movie of 2017... but I don’t know. Maybe it’s because people hyped it up too much by the time I got to see it or maybe because I’m a sucker for fast paced animation but I enjoyed this film way too much to put it here. I don’t know, I don’t think it’s that bad. Mostly mediocre, I guess. Same goes for Duck Duck Goose & Gnome Alone.

Pirates Of The Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales 2017 was not a very good year for mediocre movie franchises. Between this, Tom And Jerry: Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory, & Transformers: The Last Knight, all being god awful & not making much money, maybe it’s the end to these 3 not very beloved series... or Bumblebee will make a bunch of money & nobody will learn any valuable lessons.

What The Health I have no problem with vegans, if anything, I think they’re objectively correct in their arguments, I just like medium rare steak too much! Just please don’t make shitty documentaries with shotty evidence & bad science! This one in particular made me so mad that I stopped watching it half way through & I would’ve put it on the list if I included documentaries!

All Eyez On Me Joke’s on me! I thought Straight Outta Compton would’ve brought a new wave of great music biopics, but apparently it only brought along terribly boring & overly long music biopics with 2018′s Bohemian Rhapsody & 2017′s All Eye’s On Me. The longest 2 & a half hours of my life!

Death Note As a huge fan of the Death Note anime & manga, this is practically blasphemy!... but there is still a lot of creativity & cleverness in it. Granted, those are all from the anime & the worst parts are whenever it tries to be original. But, granted again, if it was just the anime there’d be no reason to watch it. I feel like the people working on this were given a bad hand & probably did the best they could... but it still sucked. I strangely feel very similar about Beauty And The Beast.

Despicable Me 3 I think I just have a really low tolerance for annoyance. I cannot stand being annoyed, I’d rather be tortured! And that is the fatal wound of the Despicable Me franchise. I like the first 2 films just fine, but between this & Minions, I think it’s doomed to annoying purgatory!

47 Meters Down Shark movies are more dead than the shark at the end of Jaws: totally terminated & yet still showing up in films. 47 Meters Down is another hackney entry into a tired genre.

Happy Death Day I feel like I’m alone in hating this film. People praise it for being funny & clever while I bash it for being void of any entertainment & doing the same shit that got overused a decade ago.

#1. Fifty Shades Darker As out of touch F The Prom is, as hate-filled Let There Be Light is, as annoying Pitch Perfect 3 is... at least they have stories. They have comprehensive plots. Things actually happen in them. That is a lot more than what I can say for Fifty Shades Darker. On my 2015 list, I didn’t include Fifty Shades Of Grey because, as a film, it was decently made & had more than a few funny moments that made it worth watching. Its sequel did absolutely nothing, & I mean nothing! Nothing happens! How is this enjoyable for anyone? Just watch porn! You’ll get more out of it & it’ll probably have a better plot anyways.

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