#did michael have the same feeling? part of me thinks no not really | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m1ckeyb3rry · 4 months

Note

Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

── THE INSTRUMENT

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. “Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first.

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind.

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first.

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you.

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say.

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways.

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume.

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be.

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say.

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother said.

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter.

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky.

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding.

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by.

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say.

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says.

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.”

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently.

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up.

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality.

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you.

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized.

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn’t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

#kaiser x reader #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #michael kaiser #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #fake dating #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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dark-night-hero · 1 year

Text

Imagine when Michael Kaiser realizes things a little far too late.

Imagine Kaiser wondering when did you started to be so cold? The thing is, you treated him the same as every, it something felt so wrong, so odd. When did you started looking at him like that? "Meine liebe? What's wrong?" He asked as he embrace you from behind and loooking up from the book on your hand, "Nothing." You smile at him, a smile that send shiver down his spine.

Imagine everything was the same as it was before, but he felt like something within you has changed, precisely the way you looks at him was far for different than before. It was so cold and a little hard to read. But you still lean on his touches, still return his smiles, you still kiss him on the lips whenever he would go out and come back from practice. Is he just over thinking?

Imagine it was one of those nights were he would take you to a five star restaurant for a meal, nothing special. He just wanted to take you, seeing you all beautiful and dressed up was enough for him. And yet on the entire meal you never said a word, he was unsure if it was just the fact that you were just preoccupied with the meal or maybe something else. He just hoped that its the former.

"Meine liebe." Looking up from your meal, Kaiser wipe off the sauce off the side of your lips with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth to get a taste of it. Upon seeing him act shamelessly, you felt blood creeping up your face. "Kaiser!" "What?" He chuckle. Everything felt so right.

Imagine, as the two of you ace each other on your bed. As you traces his tattoo all the way from the back of his hand up to his neck, he felt a shiver down his spine as he pulled you close to him, breathing your scent. "Kaiser?" He could only humm in return as his embraces tighten. "Do you have something you want to say to me?" Thinking about it for a moment, he chuckles, not noticing the way you stiffen. But then he slight pull away from you to give you a kiss on the lips. "Ich liebe dich."

Imagine, the truth is Kaiser loves you very much. Like really, he loves you so much. A far little than he could imagine. He when he walked inside the house, the one the two of you have been living together for half a year now and saw you looking so coldly like that. He stiffen. He don't know what he did wrong, nevertheless he must apologise. But does he really doesn't know?

"Meine liebe? What's wrong?" He asked as he hold you by the shoulder when you brush off his usual kiss of a greeting. "It's been half a year." You said and he nod, you must be talking about your relationship right? "So how was it?" "Huh?" "How does it feel to play with my heart?" "Huh?" He almost sounded as a broken record as he kept saying the same thing. He was confused, what are you talking about all of a su- ah.

"What did my brother every do to you to do me like this?" You glare at him. "And even if he does im fact did you something. Does I have anything to do with it?" "Wai-" "No! You wait! I waited two months Kaiser! Two fucking months for things to come out of your damn own fucking mouth and yet I hear nothing!" His heart was painfully beating on his chest as he sees tears started rolling down your cheeks quickly wiped away by you. "So I guess it's true, this. This fuckig relationship means nothing but a damn fucking bet to you?" You looked to hurt, betrayed when you said that.

Imagine the way his mouth open and close. As much as he doesn't want to say it wasn't a bet, that he truly loves you the, that it was love at first sight the moment you walked into the field that day to talk to your damn brother. He doesn't want to sound hypocrite, because he did in fact made a bet with Ness, but it was just a damn excuse on his part so that he could be close to you.

"Scheiße" You curse and once again he flinch. "I should have listened to Noa when he said you were a damn bastard." You spoke brushing off the ever ending tears on your face. "Are you satisfied now? If you are then leave. The half year mark you made with Ness is over, you can leave." When you see him unmoving you push yourself off the counter and shove him hard on the shoulder. "I said leave! I don't want to see your face!" It hurts seeing his face like he was hurting too, like he actually love you. And you know he does, but the trust has already been broken.

Imagine the way he pull you into embrace, letting you hit him if it means venting out the pain you were feeling right now cause by none other than him. "Let go." You said and he shakes his head. "Michael Kaiser, let go." Once again he shake his head and pull you tighter on his chest. "Don't make me repeat myself Michael Kaiser before I regret loving you." "Ju-" He clear his throat as his voice cracked. "Just a minute." Then there was nothing but silence.

Imagine, if someone were to see Kaiser getting kicked out of his own penthouse, others would think it was hilarious. But the truth is that you don't have anywhere to go, Noa doesn't approve of your relationship so you have nowhere to go. And as soon as the door shut behind him, he just stood there before sitting down, leaning against the door and on the other side, he could hear the sound of your cries.

"I mean it when I said I love you, you know? Meine liebe." And as if hearing that he said, only cries can ne heard on the other side. Kaiser was the type of person who would admit his own mistakes, at least to the person he cherishes the most. So he would wait, just like how you waited for the chances he didn't take. He would until you were ready to forgive him. If you could forgive and trust him again, he would.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°

#blue lock #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk angst #bllk kaiser #kaiser x reader #kaiser x y/n #blue lock kaiser #kaiser x you #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock fanfic #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #blue lock angst #kaiser angst

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orionlain · 11 months

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟: link

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐲𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 summary: a tug of war for your affection, between the aftons.

𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞? 𝐍𝐨, 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

How long has it been since he felt your soft body? How long has it been since he traced his calloused fingers against your thighs? How long has it been since he tasted your lips, the lips that fulfilled his hunger? It's been months. But it felt like ages, it felt like centuries to him.

You were so busy, after all, it's your last year of high school. You barely had time to see him, you barely even had time to go to the house. You were so caught up in your studies, so caught up in excelling school that you left the poor old man bothered and wanting. He dreamed of you every night, he replays that memory of you whining beneath him every time he’s alone. For months, you unintentionally made the man more ravenous. And god, you may be the only person that makes him weak.

Other than thinking and craving you, he fulfilled his time with, of course, work. And drinking. And smoking. And berating Michael. His workshop in the basement was hardly ventilated, it smelled like the wisp of smoke and whiskey if you step in. He continues to work with the hinges, the metal parts and the screws. The tools in his hands work like a magic wand as he twists and turns the unfinished animatronics. He was lost in his work, in his creations, in his thoughts about you and your— his son's voice echoed above him.

“Michael, can you shut up will you?” He groaned loudly. As usual his ‘brat’ did not care for his pleas. Out of irritation, he got up from his desk and workshop. He went up the stairs, and the surroundings danced with the thump of his steps.

“Oh for the love of god. Michael, did you hear me, you damn-” He cuts off.

“Uh, Hi. Nice to see you again, Mr. Afton.” How much he missed your voice.

His face immediately softens. Oh, how much he missed your vanilla scent. He could see you in your whole glory. You were in a white sweater which draped on your shoulders, with a brown flowy skirt covering your bottom. Shoes that were creased, had freckles of dirt, but he didn’t mind, not at all. At that moment, thousands of thoughts ran in his mind. How much he wanted to grab you and—

“Father. Are you just gonna stand there and stare? Say hi.” Michael’s blunt tone snapped him out in a second.

“Where's my manners!” He brushes off and smirks. Puts on his most charismatic smile, he walks up and his figure towered over you. He held his hand, for you to shake. The same hand that made you moan. You clear your throat and shake his hand, he could feel your delicate gentle touch, one that he missed dearly.

“It’s good to see you again, darling,” There's that pet name again.

“It really is.. I’m so sorry I haven’t visited for a while.” You uttered, flashing that same smile he always loved. “I’ve been working really hard in school. Didn’t have the time to visit the house, however I’m still talking to Michael-” You cut off, when Michael grabs you by the waist, his hand holding the side of your body. You laughed and pushed him away. “Stop! I’m trying to talk to your dad!”

“Oh c’mon, love, hearing you chat to that old man makes my eyes all droop. Won't you just come to my room already, loser?” Mike whined in a playful tone, with mischief. The older man looked at his son, with a grin, a sore fake grin. William didn’t say a word, but his dark smile went along with the words of: ‘My, my, son, you’ve gotten so bold.’

Bold. He fucking hated that. How he wishes his blood was dumb and stupid, but of course he had to inherit his father's genes. To know every, single, damn, thing. To be so clever to Williams' charm and insincere smile. His son never knew what truly happened, but he was quite perceiving. Sometimes Michael would look at his father with a stare filled with thousands of words and disdain. Sometimes Michael had the blood of competitiveness running through, when he sees you and his old man talking. Like father and son, they say. And with you, it was definitely; like father, like son.

The glint in William's eyes was clear. You didn’t notice though, of course you don’t notice. After all, his honey words were always believable to you, but how he wished this time you noticed. He wished this time you could see that glare, that speaks of how much you were his. But of course you didn’t, and that infuriated him. You were too innocent, which is fine, you were malleable and he could mold into the perfect wife. However, you were malleable, and Michael could easily mold you into a girlfriend. That thought made him infuriated. You made him infuriated.

Yet, you turned to William and smiled. A warm and friendly smile, with that pretty face and pretty hair. No, no, he can’t stay mad at you. How could he? You had a smile that could rival any woman in the bar. You had eyes, so doe, you looked like a little bunny. And that body of yours, oh, how could he stay mad at that?

“I’ll be here for the night, Mr. Afton, is that okay?” Still sweet as he remembered.

“Oh darling. You are always welcomed here.”

———————————————————

The summer heat glistened upon your skin, shining upon every ripple you had. Your eyes sparkled beneath the sun, and you wore a purple swimsuit. Purple? Were you trying to kill him? You didn’t know that was his favorite color though.

Your body rests on top of a beach chair with lavender stripes, sitting in front of the pool of the Afton’s backyard. Turning your head to Michael who was wearing red swim shorts, seeming to be staring blankly, with his walkman cassette player in his ears.

“Mike.” He didn’t respond. You snapped your fingers at him, “I said, Mike!”

“Wha- what?” He took his headphones off. You turn your body to face him, looking at him like an investigator. You pointed at his ear looking quizzically. “Is that.. A piercing?” He had a shit-eating grin on his face, with his eyes turning into a smug look. He giggled, almost school-boy sounding. “Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“Mike!?” He only continued to laugh, holding the cassette close to his chest for stability. He wipes the tears off his eyes. “Hey, it’s not that bad is it?”

You shake your head, laughing a little as you facepalm. Sometimes you never knew Michael was up to, smoking, drinking, vandalizing, you couldn’t tell. He would go weeks without telling you something, or he’d come back after an hour and tell you immediately. There was always something unpredictable about that boy. But you digress, you find his antics amusing and funny.

“What would your dad think?”

“Oh c’mon! It's just a stud in my damn ear!” You look at him even more puzzled. “But- but how did you-”

“In the bathroom.”

“The bathroom!?” You perk up more, now sitting up from your seat. He looked at you, with a smirk, “I was with my mate, Jeremy. I was under some bridge in the middle of who knows what. He got a bowl of hot water, with the sewing needle. And then, womp, pierce my ear by pushing the needle in.” Your mouth went a little agape. You two sat there in silence. Until you burst out laughing.

“Christ, Mike!” You laughed, holding your stomach. “Shush, don’t tell my old man-”

“Tell him what?” You and Michael turn your back to William, hovering over you guys like a hawk. Was he always there? Mike rolled his eyes, his face turning into a more sour expression. He lifted his hands and shrugged up in a surrender.

“Nothin!” He said with a mocking tone, a light smirk. You continue to giggle, but it turns out to be a more silent, hiding one. You looked at the father with a smile, “Hi, Mr. Afton!”

You were always much more polite than him, he thought. Much, much more polite. William put his hand on your shoulder, slowly rubbing it up and down. Your face flushed a little, and your body froze a bit. That touch reminded you back to the memory of his calloused fingers wrapping around your wrist, grabbing you to his chest. That touch reminded you back to the time where he held your face as he put his leg between your thighs. That touch. William had to hold back a chuckle and a grin as he looked at you. Michael, on the other hand, gave his father a funny look.

“What did you say, Michael?” He continued to interrogate.

“I said, nothing. None of your business.” The boy spat back. “No, no, no. Something about a piercing, hm?” You look at their back and forth. Back to Willams’ hand on your shoulder and his face hovering over you, to Michael's annoyed expression and his body in front of you.

“Yeah. A piercing, so?” Williams' chuckle laced with anger and poison could be heard in response to that. “Did I ever say you can have one, boy?”

“What's the big deal about it? Henry told me you were a bit of a frivolous man back in your college years. Why can’t I be ‘frivolous?” He said ‘frivolous’ with his hand making air-quotes, his father raising an irritated brow. “Boot-cut jeans, disco collars, and lots, lots of ladies. I know you’re not just a serious and stuck up man. Please, your dorm room was filled with the moans of-”

“Bloody christ, just check on Evan and Elizabeth for me, can you?” He said in a loud tone, with his fake smile twitching. Michael stood up sighing and groaning loudly, and before he made his departure, he ruffled your hair. Leaving the walkman on the beach chair beside you. You knew a little that they never had a great relationship, but god, did that make you feel uncomfortable. It was as if the tension was tied around your neck like a tug of war. Never once did they swear or yell, but it almost felt like they did. So many words beneath a sentence, hidden by a smile that felt taunting. You had an awkward look on your face, as you saw Michael walk away, staring blankly wishing you knew more what's hiding behind the clear passive aggressiveness between the two. How you wish you knew why there was so much hostility between them. You were lost in thought, but you immediately felt the grip on your shoulder tighten.

You look up, your wide eyes facing William as you bend your neck a little. “Hello, darling.” He said with a smooth baritone in his accented voice. You could never get over how attractive he sounded. As you face him, you take a full look at him. His torso covered in a purple short sleeved dress shirt, you could see the edge of his skin, the springlock marks that traveled on his chest and neck. He could see you take a peak, he grinned a little.

“My son, always a troublemaker, isn’t he?” He laughed afterwards, playing it off with an innocent dismissive hand wave. “Always been a pain in my ass.” He chuckled, saying it like a joke, but his piercing glare and smirk said otherwise. He looks at you now, but with a bit of a less harsh look. “How’s it been?”

You stared at him, that grip on your shoulder not getting any looser. You giggled, and rubbed the back of your neck. “Ah, busy. Sorry I haven’t, uh, visit you.. I was so caught up in my studies, Mr. Afton.” You said softly, while looking at the poolside, staring at the glistening shine of the water. Hearing the laughter of the three siblings, as you fiddled with the straps of your purple swimsuit. “Thought you forgot about me, love.” He says, with a teasing tone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Nono- I didn’t forget about you-” You babbled nervously with your words, but he put his finger to his lips, making a shushing sound. “I’m messing with you, doll. I knew you were just being a good student and studying. Unlike a certain boy I know.” He laughed, but then his eyes went down onto you. “You wouldn’t forget me, not after the time we had.” A heat went down your cheeks.

He bent down to your level, playing with the lavender straps of your swimwear. “Besides, darling, you know I can’t be mad at you.” Humming as he stares at your pretty face. “You’re such a good girl, you know?”, he hushed. His breath close to your neck, his voice warm to your ears. You felt your heart beat faster, as your eyes widened.

“And lord, that bikini looks ravishing on you.” He whispered.

Then he stood back up. His palm on your shoulder becomes much looser. He gave you a pat on the shoulder, and turned his back from you. Giving you a single small wave as he walks away, and leaving you on the beach chair utterly flustered and bothered. He just leaves, and goes back fixing Elizabeth's inflatable toy. Why does he do this to you? Why does he tease and leave you such a mess? The butterflies tighten even more around your stomach, the space in your throat all choked up. And there he is, musing to himself as if he didn’t whisper such things to you. The only semblance of his vulgarity, is his stare from across the pool, that went from your thighs to your chest to your face. It was shameless. You knew it. And he knew it.

“Hey, loser!” Micheals shout rings into your ears, and you snap out of it. He quickly grabs your hand closer to the pool with a playful grin, “C’mon, you can’t just sit there all day.”

“Mike- jeez!” You chuckled softly, and soon Michael wrapped his arms around your arm. He shoves you into the pool with him, both of you falling into the body of water, splashing onto the poolside. Some of the water went onto the younger siblings body, a giggle and whine ensued on them. Most of it, though, flew onto the older man. An irritated smirk formed onto his face, as he swept the water off his hair. You all were in a fit of laughter. But with Michael around you, William hid in a fit of rage. However, he shaked his head and kept a fake smile, continuing to fix Elizabeth's plastic blow-up toy. “Brat.” He mumbled.

You then reached out of the two younger kids, waving your hand to them, a gentle smile on your face. Evan reached the pool slowly, tipping his toes into the water as you gave him a cheer of encouragement. Elizabeth, on the other hand, dived into the tube around her torso, splashing onto your face. “Liz, my goodness!” Your laughter echoed into the backyard as the water ran through your hair, you held her hand as she paddled through the swimming pool. Michael looked at you as you talked to her, to his brother, his smug grin turning into a soft smile. Eyeing you with a look of enderament. Floating in the pool, watching you, admiring you.

“Michael.” The blunt voice called out, the boy turns his head to the older man. “Keep an eye on your siblings. Have fun with your ‘girlfriend’, son.” He chuckled and crossed his arms, the word ‘girlfriend’ sounded almost laced with poison.

“I will.” The boy gave out a passive-aggressive smile

____________________________________

Your hand digging into the bowl of caramel popcorn on the small patio table, stuffing your face full of it. You had a towel on top of your back, as you held your legs into your body. Michael rested upon his chair, staring into the sunset that fell beneath the picket fences in front of you both. His hand was also filled with popcorn, and devoured it quickly. While Liz and Evan had passed out, sleeping on the hammocks. Besides you, was some rickety boombox playing “Boys Don’t Cry” which played with a mild noise while you two rested upon the chairs. You looked at Michael, his face always reminding you of the time that his dad revealed his secret. Where you find out Mike had a crush on you. You hadn’t confronted him about it, you were too awkward to do so.

You both sat there silent. Till you broke the ice. “So.. remember that sleepover where I helped you with homework? Can you tell me why you were late with the teacher?” Michael immediately coughed up his popcorn, and sat up.

“Didn’t I tell you she got her panties in a twist?” He said with a dismissive wave. You rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah I know, but that's not it, is it?”

He paused for a moment, and sighed, he put his head to the side in a somber tone. Your face softens and you give him a look of sympathy. Tilting your head to the boy beside you. “You know, you can tell me, right? That's what best friends are for.” He groans and shakes his head in a sad smile, but he gives in.

“Bout my grades.” He uttered. “I mean, it's no big surprise, since I’m quite the hassle to deal with. Bound to have shit grades.”

“But uh..” He took a moment and continued on, “Teacher came up to me and the first time I wasn’t getting yelled at. She went up to me and was like: what's home like?” He stared into the sunset slowly fading into the horizon, the red and the purples mixing with one another.

“First time I was ever vulnerable.” He turned his head and looked at you, with an awkward look on his face.

“Don’t like home. It’s not warm.” He didn’t further elaborate on that.

You sighed, but smiled at Mike. Patting him on the back with your gentle and dainty touch. You run it back and forth, giving him a bit of warmth. His eyes immediately lightened up, and he laughed. His mood, lifting up just from your hands. “I have a lot of friends. Yet, a nerd like you takes the cake.” He says, with an amused tone, you chuckled in response. “I know. But I hope you know this nerd is always here to listen.” You said, he scoffs but it was clear he smiled softly.

Another silence goes between you two.Then you’ve curiously look at him, “Are you still with Sarah?” He gave a cringed expression on his face and ran his fingers through his hair in a nervous manner. “Ehh..”

“Are you serious? This is the second girl of the month.” You pestered, scolding him with a baffled smile on your face. “It just didn’t work out, alright! It's ok— I mean, she moved on fast. Saw her with a guy the next day.”

You facepalm and shake your head. “What’s your type anyways?” Oops! You shut your mouth instantly, knowing you slipped out a stupid obvious question. You already knew Michael liked you, ever since William revealed his secret in the last sleepover. Yet, here you are beating around the bush. Cringing at yourself, wishing you had confronted Michael earlier if he had a crush on you or not. But it can’t be, right? Every girl in your guys’ highschool had the hots for your best friend. There was not a chance, right? You can’t ask that question. How would you put it into words that weren’t an awkward jumbled mess?

“Eh.. man I don’t know.” He answered plainly, and he was silent afterwards. Until he abruptly said, “A nice girl.”

“A nice girl?” You tilt your head at his answer. He rolled his eyes at you with a bit of a chuckle that left his mouth. “Yeah, I mean, what? What did you expect?”

“Well.. I just, you know. I thought there may be more.” You responded, shrugging your arms. You continued on, “I mean most guys give you a list of what they want in a girl.”

“What? You thought I'd give you a list?” He laughs, now putting a piece of bubblegum into his mouth. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind if she's hot, then I got something to ogle at. But.. a nice girl is– well nice. I wouldn’t even mind if this girl was a bit of a geek.” He responded, chewing the gum in his mouth.

“So you would go out with a nerd.?” You looked at him, raising your brow. “I guess.”

You giggled at his response, holding your stomach a little. “I can’t imagine it!” You mutter in between your laughter, while Michael turns his head and lets out a huff. Crossing his arms, while he rolled his eyes again. “Piss off, cunt.” He nudges at you playfully. But he quickly retreats back on laying on his chair, and gives a small sigh.

“Sometimes you remind me of my mum.” He says quietly, but you still hear his sentence. You still laughed, but it was slowly dying out as you saw Michaels gaze. Filled with admiration. You both stare at each other for a moment. Not a single word coming out of your mouth. Not a single noise between you two. But just from his stare, you could feel yourself becoming a bit rosy. You had the chance to say something, and break the tension, confront him about if he has feelings for you—

He stood up, and dusted off his swimsuit shorts. “I think I’m gonna clean up now.” He sighs, while stretching his back a little. He then went towards his younger siblings on the hammock, shaking them a little. “C’mon time to wake up. Or else father’s gonna be all up in my ass again.” Aggravated, pushing them a little. The two wake up all groggily, dragging their feet on the ground as Evan went back into the house trailing his bear plushie on the ground, while Elizabeth rubbed her eyes with her arm as she mumbled an insult towards her older brother.

Michael looks back at you, as you were sitting on the chair. He puts his hand on the top of your hair, ruffling a little. You groaned as he does while he pops his bubblegum. The boy leans toward you a little, and gives you a small smile, gentle and soft. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He says, and plants a kiss on your cheek. He then faced away from you, but you could see a red tint on his face.

Your best friend then goes back into the house. While you sat on the beach chair, taken aback. Mouth agape. Did he just blush? Did he just kiss you, on your cheek?

But before you could fully grasp what happened, you felt a tug on your strap. You gazed at the movement, and soon enough you felt the familiar touch on you. “Darling.” That pet name, which is all so memorable to you. You see the older man, who is suddenly behind you. His steps and body are so quiet, it almost made you think of how he’s so fit for a criminal. You quickly sit up from his presence, as if he commands you to pay attention to him. You look at him, bug-eyed. “Yes?” You bumbled with your response. He always found it so cute that you were always so nervous around him. A fawn so delicate and fragile, a bunny so tense and afraid.

He circled around you like a shark, putting his two fingers around his shoulder, you felt a shiver running down your spine. Only until now, you realize how uneasy he made you feel. You could almost feel your hands slightly tremble. He gazed at you like some wolf waiting to feast on a lamb, like some fruit waiting to be opened and tasted. An uncomfortable silent pause before he says his next word, he then bends down to your chair facing you eye to eye. His gray eyes pierced right through, but oh, he had such a gentle grin on his face. It was so contradictory. His smile was so sweet, yet his eyes and cold touch on your shoulder said less. It lured you right in.

Most people, when you look into their eyes– there would be a bit of a sparkle of light. You found nothing but an empty pupil. Although, it didn’t feel intimidating. Yet. “Still looking pretty as ever.” He traced his thumb on your face, while you sat there silently, helpless.

“Uhm. Thank you, Mr. Afton.” You responded, as a way to fill the silence, to fill that restless feeling in you. You didn’t bother to look away and turn your face to the side, you fear something bad will happen if you do. “Darling.. Would you mind if I ask a question?” He asked, but it’s almost like he would still inquire if you said no. You shake your head, signing to go ahead.

“Do you like Michael?” He asked, still rubbing his thumb on your cheek. You paused at first, “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” He repeated, and chuckled. But that chuckle was unnerving. He still traced his thumb over your cheek but more slowly this time. Almost tauntingly. “Yeah I don’t think.. I do.” You said, but then your eyes went towards the house.

“Are you sure?” William teased, but it hid a dark intention behind his words.

You look at Michael, seeing him through the window. He was watching TV, while bothering his little brother. He looked alot alike to his father, but much more softer. His skin is more tanner, his face less hollower. His hair messy, unstyled and spiked cuffs around his wrist, his usual jean jacket around his body. He had eyebags, just like William but it wasn’t so sunken. He had more of a boyish look to him, amateurish and juvenille. You can admit, he was good looking. He was attractive, even. And he's alway been nice to you, always been more softer with you than anyone else around him. And he’s always been sweet, always had a laugh that made you smile.

He was good to you, good for you, maybe you do like– “Look at me.” You then felt your face forcefully grabbed. Your cheeks almost squeezed, as your eyes squint in pain. William's eyes were harsh, even cruel looking as he stared into you. “Don’t look at him, look at me.”

“I said. Don’t look at him. Look at me.” You immediately complied, and gazed at him back. Your breath almost caught up in your throat, and your eyes all nervous and wide. He had a scowl on his face. “Do I have to repeat myself, hm?” He said, a tone laced with malice.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He put a finger near your lips, in a shushing motion. “Listen here darling. I know, I know, Michael is your best friend. But I don’t think he's good for you.” He says, honey-like, his words soothing and smooth. There was a glint in his eyes as he said it.

His finger then traced down to your throat, and softly tugged at the ribbon of your lilac swimsuit between your cleavage. He was playing with it. Teasing it. “He’s not good for you.. No, no, no, not at all. I don’t want your soft little heart broken, it’s not meant for a harsh boy like him.” He tutted. “He’ll use you.. You know how teenage boys are.” He said it like a fact.

“Will you believe me, sweetheart?” He patted your cheek, in such a sickly sweet manner. “Will you believe me, when I say he's no good for you?” You paused before you spoke, but his words sounded so genuine, so heartfelt. You nodded your head softly. Still so malleable, how he loved that.

“That's right. What a good girl.” He hummed from your response. “Now, I think it’s time for you to get cleaned up. Hm?”

“Yes. Mr. Afton..” You responded, and he chuckled a little from how quiet and nervous your pretty voice sounded. His scowl turned into his usual polite smile. He then took your hand and made you stand up on the ground, drying the wet hair with a towel. Patting you on the back, as he moves you back into the house. How easy.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #william afton #william afton x you #michael afton #michael afton x reader #fanfic #william afton x reader

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darklinaforever · 3 months

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It kills me how many people think that the gender of a fictional character doesn't matter.

We are in fiction, where the characters have arcs, or they embody themes. Obviously for some characters gender matters.

Michael is literally named the new heir and freaks out about becoming a new John /basically taking everything he had.

Michaela can't really have this arc... Unless we strangely learn that the laws in Scotland are extremely different from England located in the Bridgerton universe (and I speak for the universe of the series, where we have no idea if they will stick to reality where women in Scotland could inherit), and I doubt it for the moment.

So no, Michaela couldn't necessarily have the same arc as Michael.

I'm not even sure she could be a Merry Rake. Can a woman be called Rake in show Bridgerton universe ?

The fact is that Michaela will necessarily differ at certain times from Michael.

Already there are always drastic differences between the show and the book, this time I think it will be even more emphasized. (I even doubt that we will have as many nods to the book as season 3 dedicated to Polin's story did)

In any case, the very basis of Francesca's story is that despite the loss of true love you can always have a second chance, which is a clear originality compared to the other romances in this series of books ; well, is already changed with the way the end of season 3 happened.

It seems that the marriage to John was a mistake, that the physical aspect of their relationship will not prove pleasant in view of the Fran's reaction to their kiss, and worse, that Fran doesn't feel true love for John.

True love in Bridgerton often results in great passion and similarities to the story of Edmund and Violet, and Francesca literally matches Violet's reaction when she first met Edmund, but this time when she meets Michaela.

Whereas Fran is never supposed to have this kind of reaction around Michael / Michaela as long as John is alive. Because she normaly truly loves him.

So how could the story be the same after such a change to the very heart of the story ?

It's not just the gender change from Michael to Michaela that makes the adaptation of When he was Wicked complicated and uncertain for some viewers, including me too, it is above all a whole.

But for some obscure reason people refuse to accept it.

Beyond that, I repeat, Michael Stirling is a fictional male character who has been around for years.

That people are disappointed, including me, not to see this character, as he is basically on paper, be adapted to the screen is not necessarily homophobic, assumed or internalized.

Yes, some are, but not everyone. Some of us are part of the LGBTQ+ community and no, we do not all suffer from internalized homophobia so as not to 100% validate such a change !

We're talking about an attachment to an image that we have formed in our mind about a FICTITIOUS character for fucking years !

Besides, I didn't even say that I was fundamentally against it, because I have already explained several times that a part of me was happy to see a main romance between two women on screen in the television universe for Bridgerton (and the actresses are magnificent and on top of that, I'm sure, will have very good chemistry). Once again, representation is always cool, but, is this really the right place to do it ? I'm not so sure.

And contrary to what some say, I'm not saying that LGBTQ+ relationships should systematically be secondary in fiction. No way. I'm simply saying that transforming one of the main canon ships of the books without which the Netflix adaptation would not exist is perhaps not the right thing to do, since there is already a community attached behind these characters...

And seriously, if the creators really wanted a main LGBTQ+ romance dealing with the Bridgerton universe, they could easily make a spin off dealing specifically with this part of society and how they live.

I'm sure many, including me, will watch such a spin-off ! And damn I would love for something like that to happen !

You see, the opportunity to have an LGBTQ+ romance at the forefront without changing the kind of characters mostly beloved by an audience that already exists. Not very complicated though.

Do you realize how inappropriate it is to insult someone homophobic for that things ?! I don't know what kind of fucking bubble these people live in...

And it's scary to say that you can be insulted by a community of which you are a part, simply for not conforming to everything that is judged 100% morally correct for them.

If you have the misfortune of delay, sometimes there are those who unleash themselves on you to insult you for things that you don't have, simply for a fictional character...

"You don't 100% validate that a fictional male character who has existed for years and whom you have loved for years, with a fairly precise image in mind as a result, becomes a woman in his adaptation ? Well obviously, it's is that you are, at worst, a homophobe, or at least worse an internalized homophobe, and in any case that is not tolerable and you are not a true ally and you are problematic who deserves to be hated."

I don't know if you realize how STUNNING this is ! There really are people on this app who need to get fucking treatment...

And anyway why am I racking my brains ?

There will always be stupid people to come and tell me that what I say is always homophobic because if I have a problem with the change of gender of a fictional character through an adaptation well I'm the real problem.

As they say, you can't change idiots.

So stay stupid if you want, but at least leave me alone.

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thestarfishinjootsoffice · 1 year

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I was thinking about this earlier so what about (Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers, Vincent Sinclair.) With like a mermaid siren creature! Reader and like how they first meet and what their relationship is like. I just thought it would be cool, you can ignore this if you want ☺️

Me tryna find every information about mermaids and sirens: 😎🫳💻

Also the scenarios where the reader is captured is because although I think mermaids/sirens are stronger than the average humans I don't think they have enough strength to break through things such as metal or stuff like that. (Correct me if I'm wrong) And the deranged people other than the slashers here are using metal items.

Warnings:

Relationship: romantic!

Slashers x mermaid+siren! Reader

Michael

Michael wasn't a man who believed myths. One of them being mermaids or sirens.

And a large body of water had never piqued his interests either. And he just never really went there.

He heard lakes were quite popular amongst people, and plus it wasn't far from where he was. He walked his way over to his destination, planning to ruin another thing for people in his town.

Disappointedly he didn't find anyone, but decided to just stand by or sit somewhere to enjoy a breeze of silence. Just when he had enough and got up to leave he heard the most angelic enrapturing singing he heard. He didn't really listen to music. Just occasionally stands by if he hears one he thinks is tolerable. But this voice, It almost sounded inhumane he couldn't think of anything else other than the sound of that singing it's got him hypnotised. He feels calm, he feels nice.

He suddenly broke into thought and confusion as he heard a gasp and the sound of water splashing. Although it felt like a second he noticed he was several feet away where he previously was.

This disturbed Michael, what the hell just happened? He looked in front of him and saw a slight figure against one of the many big rocks. Michael assumed this was the person who did this to him, power walked towards them. Ready to slash them but abruptly stopped in his tracks as he saw the person frantically move. They had one leg? Except it wasn't really a leg, it looked more like a huge lower part of a fish... A mermaid's tail?

He would've assumed they were fake but the scales and fins seemed pretty real and they were moving so fluently and like an actual fish. And the creature had a fade between its abdomen and the tail.

The creature froze at the sight of him, giving him a better look at their appearance. Its entire eyes was pitch black and it had sharp teeth but its features could only be described as interestingly attractive.

He crouched down. Unsure of what to do. He noticed their chest was bare and their tails were f/c. He saw a scale on the ground. Picked it up and walked away. Leaving the aquatic humanoid creature confused and scared.

The next day the creature came back on the shore, around the same time where they and the mysterious man met. Wanting to know more about him and unknowingly the mystery man reciprocated the same eagerness.

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

Dating the man was... Interesting.

The first months of your relationship he just kept observing staring at you. You realised the part he gawked at the most was your tail, you couldn't tell if he liked it or found it weird. But you'll move your mystically shining tail around like you were trying to dance and he looked pretty pleased. Except for when you'd splash water on him. He didn't like that part.

He would sit on the rocks with you (on good days.) And surprisingly without his weapon which made you feel less threatened and then have a silent blast together as you sit with your quiet murderous boyfriend.

Michael didn't understand why you didn't wanna live in his house, what do you mean you don't wanna live in his bathtub forever? He eventually gave up on that idea though.

He loves your sharp teeth ngl. Thinks they're freaky in a good way. (Can you bite him?)

He's less worried about you when he's away. You would be deep under the water and people won't spot you that easily and also will probably run away at the sight of you.

Touches your gills. Adores everything about you.

After a few long months you get carried by Michael into his house with a cold water filled bathtub and after he left, you squirm your way around the house and find the old scale that came out when you first met. You decide to say nothing. (He interrogated you about why his floors are wet.)

7/10

Jason

He heard tales of them a few times. But he had no reason to believe they were real.

Too clouded in his old pure rage that has yet to be dulled. How could he sit around and ponder about humanoid aquatic creatures when there were horny disgusting drunk bastards in the graveyard of he and his mother?

The sound of distant laughter and talking somewhere deep in the woods snaps him in guard. Sighing slightly in frustration, he reaches for his machete on the wooden drawers, Stepping out silently and walking his way somewhere near.

Staring at the people who made a 'grave' mistake coming to camp crystal Lake, this time was a little different. Instead of usual teenagers Or young adults instead he had caught sight of multiple men who appeared to be fishermen.

The more he stared, he noticed a huge squirming bag over the shoulder of one of the more bulkier men. It was way too long to be any normal large fish, and he swore he could've noticed a flash of something poking out. Something similar to human hands.

Realising his thoughts were going off somewhere else instead of his initial plan, he mentally bashes his head on a tree and focuses on getting rid of the nuisances.

Observing the men more he sees them throwing the bag into the lake, what was inside the bag had squirmed weakly as it seemingly disappeared into the depths of the water.

Undoubtedly angering him even more. Who did they think they were? Throwing whatever they want inside his lake?

Deciding not to delay any further, he waits just for a bit before he starts digging his weapon in their necks and worthless bodies.

---

Just after he's done ending the life of the last fisherman he hears the sound of chains rattling and the tearing of something. He looks over and for the first time in a long time he felt something other than anger and longing.

He saw a person with damp h/c hair slowly crawling their way to the shore. What he was surprised about the most was the f/c tail with scales. They were... quite beautiful.

Marching his way over to take a good look at the mysterious person he sees their hands are tied with chains, now figuring out their earlier struggle. Their fingernails were long with a darker tone than their usual skin tone at the tips and ends of their fingers.

Their features were a dark beauty. One of one horror but pleasantly beautiful. Pitch black eyes with sharp teeth and pointy ears

He stood frozen as the creature made a prolonged eye contact with him. A sea creature and a zombie. How hilarious.

He didn't even think thoroughly before he started walking towards the person. The half human half fish cowering back in panic and fear. But luckily Jason was quick enough and started untangling and prying off the chains of the person. Their hands felt cold but alive. Getting the job done, he got up from his crouched position and slowly backed away. Observing the person.

The person no longer held an expression of panic. But they still had a slight distrust.

He kept watching as the aquatic person slowly went back into the lake. Deciding to go after a few minutes of gazing at the ripples of the water fade. He was sure to get to know more about the scale tailed person.

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

One of the most endearing relationships you could've ever had.

Mostly just sits and rests at the wooden docks and sometimes the waterboat while watching you swim around him.

Has you in his arms while tracing his fingers along the scales and edges of your tail, sitting together in silence or if you like (can talk) talking. He doesn't mind either one.

He does get pretty hesitant to get you out of the water. Thinks you'll die if you're outside water for more than like 40 seconds-

Since the lake is pretty large and it's pretty nice (except for when you're minding your own stuff and then you see a decomposing corpse somewhere down. Then you get the chills realising you're just bathing and swimming in dead people.) There's not much to complain about anyways.

Doesn't know wtf you eat but will try to the best of his abilities to give you what he can get and your cravings.

He'll be over the moon if you decide to help him in his 'getting rid of' little thing he does when someone other than you two enters the camp. (Via you drowning trespassers by holding them down underwater when they get too close.) If you'd like to stay away then he doesn't mind either.

He loves you. But sometimes his anger can get the best of him and he has days where he's acting out in anger and frustration at the fact you can't be outside of water for too long. And your tail is pretty much like a disability in land.

He sulks in embarrassment and sadness later and you see him sitting on the ground. Dragging yourself out of the water, you hug him when you get close enough. He's a bit startled but hugs you back ten times tighter. Kissing his mask where his cheek and then where his lips would be, you smile and just stay like that for the past hours.

Anyone who sees sight of you or manages to get away from you will be ensured death. And anyone who harms you will be guaranteed instant death.

He honestly just loves everything about you in every way. (Plus you got approval from Pamela.)

9/10

Vincent

Well this would be rather... Complicated. Considering Vincent's probably ever only been in Ambrose and it's basically a ghost town

Vincent had never put much thought into mermaids and sirens. More likely he's never even heard of them before. All his life resolved around really was wax, masks made of wax, art, dealing with Bo and Lester and turning people into wax.

He admits it's not really the best lifestyle but it's better than nothing I guess.

Spending some time of solitude and thoughts to himself, a sharp sound knocking him from his train of thoughts coming from above. Gesturing that new tourists have arrived.

Bo didn't really have to do this every time. Vincent would instantly know the moment they step foot in the House Of Wax, or when he's outside and spots them. But usually he does it when a rather large group, Possibly about four or more appear. A sign that both Vincent and Bo should be well prepared and careful.

After long minutes of waiting, he hears voices. Voices, tones and comments and remarks he's heard all too well and all too much over the years.

Voices that are high, voices that are deep. Those that are loud and the ones that are sometimes really low. They always contain of two tones though. Either way too happy sounding, sounds like they don't have a care in the world and the other which are full of reluctance and wary. Cautious of everything. But the remarks and comments seem to differ regardless of how happy or wary they sound. And one sentence catches his ear.

"Are you sure we should just leave it in there? In the car I mean."

"Well it's not as if it could break out and escape, it has a tail for Christ sake. Even if it did break out, I'm sure they wouldn't get too far trying to squirm away. And pretty sure the jackass in the gas station would shoot it or something."

What's it? And jackass at the gas station? Bo??

"Okay, but are you sure you want the dude to shoot and kill that thing? We could get rich and really popular if we catch it alive and sell or show it to the media or something. Like a museum."

"You're right." The soon to be dead man sighed.

Vincent didn't really have the slightest clue what in the world they were talking about, but he was guessing they caught a rare animal and were thinking of exposing it publicly.

"Well even if nobody believes it's real we could either get hella rich considering it's some sort of mermaid or something."

"It's freakishly weird looking."

Mermaid?

He didn't know what this mermaid thing was but it really has piqued his interest and curiosity.

-----

Setting the last man in the chair and turning on his mechanics to start spraying wax onto the paralyzed man, he thinks in the meantime where he wants the guy to be in. The man was quite dandy. Probably next to miss Ambrose?

But then a thought erupts into his head. That mermaid creature... He guessed the group put it in their vehicle, possibly in their conveniently large trunk.

He walks over to the wax caked guy. The guy who called Bo a jackass, fear evident in his eyes. Something Vincent had seen every damn time. Before he could do anything, his bedroom 'door' opens and the voice of Bo calls out to him.

"Vincent, there's something I want you to come check with me."

Vincent's head practically snapped to look where Bo was. His voice still remained of the cool rough voice but had a lingering small wave of urgency.

A rare occasion where Bo would ask Vincent to partake something with him in... Anything! So obviously it must be something really serious.

-----

The both of them stood in silence watching and listening to the growls and short screaming as well as the angry and loud banging of something inside a locked box. A box that was about the size of a coffin. Maybe a little shorter.

The two men reluctant to do anything. They don't know what's inside that damned box but it sounds as if it could absolutely tear them apart.

Bo's gripping on the crowbar he has in his hand. Prepping himself for anything that's about to be thrown at him

Vincent is unsure of what or how he should act right now. This 'mermaid' thing sounds dangerous.

Then in an instant the locks in the box break and fell way louder than it should've had. The top burst open and a humanoid looking creature sat up from it.

Its hair looked partially wet. Their face had weird patterns on them. They had gills, pitch black eyes. Pointy ears and webbed hands, almost like a duck's feet except it had sharp and long claws. And more odd patterns along their shoulders and other limbs

Although it might've been a terrifying sight for some. Vincent felt as if he fell in love with the aesthetic and features of it.

"What the hell...?" Bo uttered. Way too confused and feeling distraught from the sight before him.

Now Vincent notices their sharp teeth when they scowled and got in a defensive pose. Then noticing their scaled tail. It was shining beautifully and had a wonderful f/c color, it was sundown currently. So the sight bestowed upon him was astonishing. The person were a sea creature.

Vincent instinctively stopping Bo from doing anything to scare the person away from them, he thinks of a plan to get to get the beautiful scaled person to trust him.

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

It was rather complicated. But Vincent tries.

Making you a huge wax pool or area. (With the help of Bo and Lester)

He absolutely cannot take his eyes off you. Thinks you're the most breath taking thing, ever. Sometimes wonders if he's hallucinating the whole thing this entire time.

You bet he mini wax sculpts you. Like a lot. He loves imagining and sculpting your fish tail and face features more than anything physically. But what he adores even more is when the both of you would spend all nighters gazing at the stars or do some activity. All alone, quietly and at peace.

Or you both could spend tender nights together, verbally appreciating each other and whispering the sweetest nothings about how you both are able to accept one another even when they're the way they are. Every moment forms a tighter bond between you two.

Absolutely thinks you two are meant to be.

Sometimes it gets on Bo's nerves when he sees the both of you dilly dallying being a couple. It never ends well, but you can shut him up for a while when you remind him your strength is not that of a mere average human.

Tries his best to hide you from anyone else other than him and his brothers, it's not that he's embarrassed of you he's just scared that a tourist might act on impulse and start attacking you.

He takes you somewhere other than the town and into somewhere that has a large body of water (seeing how we saw a river of some sort with stones sticking out in the movie near Ambrose, I'm guessing there's a lake/big pond nearby.)

Will make sure you live your best life as a beautiful creature with gills and a fish tail. He'll be absolutely saddened if you tell him how long your kind lives. His mood will be off for the past few days knowing that you'll be able to live far longer than he will and that he can't always be there for you. But that's precisely why he wants to make your experiences with him the best as he could make it.

Just gawking at whatever you do. Doesn't matter if you're combing your hair in the sun set or you're choking a victim to death. He just thinks everything about you is majestic.

He tries to learn his best about you and refrains from asking any questions that might seem a little personal. He just respects you so much.

He could make art of you a thousand times more.

9/10

Thomas

"AHHHH!"

The girl kicks and screams as she's being dragged into that horrific house. A house or place she should've never ever stepped foot upon. Tears streaming down her face as her voice was bringing the attention of no one, not even the attention of her boyfriend who was lying down lifeless with his torso sliced in half outside of the house. An expression and look of a face she'll never forget as long as she's alive. She closed her eyes for a second, praying to God or whatever higher being there was to at least let one person live.

Thomas who is growing more and more visibly irritated by the woman's cries of despair. It's been a long hell of a day, he throws her into the floor of the kitchen and revs up his chainsaw.

Before the girl could beg and plead anymore. The fast spinning sharp blades and spikes of his weapon piercing the middle of the chest her eyes couldn't help but stare at the large amount of blood coming out of her chest and as the weapon strikes even deeper, her long blonde hair being coated with red almost black liquids. Her scream lasted a second before blood went exiting through her throat and practically choking on her own blood, the feeling and predicament was too overwhelm to comprehend as she passed out.

Thomas didn't stop for a few moments then pulled out his chainsaw. He stood silently looking at the bloody mess he created out of the girl. Then he turned around to catch the other person the blondie was talking to.

'What are you!?' That's what she said before she noticed Thomas and shouted,

'You people are such a bunch of weird fucking freakshows!'

Clutching on his chainsaw in anger. These people... They can't speak of anything other than hate and disrespect about he and his family from the very start. Especially him.

But still... Despite that, he still hopes for someone other than his family members to be accepting of him. That's all he could ask for currently.

Shaking himself out of his fantasies, he composes himself and prepares to cut whoever there was left.

After stalking around the forest quietly he hears the quiet splash of water and an uncomfortable whimper. He steadily and silently makes his way over to the source of the sound and sees a person in the water.

Though it was quite dark, he could still clearly see a person. Running towards them with a chainsaw in hand the person's head whips around and he came to an abrupt stop and almost tripped over nothing.

He lowered his weapon and proceeded to stare at the person in front of him. Their pitch black eyes with sharp teeth that he would've missed if it were any darker, tips of their ears were weirdly pointy and they had some sort of weird lines on their ribs. Their sharp claws that were held up to their chest were like an extra cherry on top of their appearance. And the most astonishing of all was their lower body, he didn't realise it instantly but what was supposed to be a pair of legs was one long oddly shaped of what appeared to be shining scales and a fish tail.

He didn't even know what to say or do. What was he supposed to?

If he was honest... Right now he hoped he wasn't dreaming, he doesn't know why or how they look like this but he was really intrigued by it.

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

It was safe to say an odd life. Living with a man and a family who ate other people like them was... Quite an experience.

But ignoring all that, your lover was a big sweet heart. Always by your side whenever he could and never stepping out of boundary. He would always look at you with a heart melting adoration very visible in his eyes.

Considering your aquatic natures, living in a bathtub or some sort of tub wasn't exactly ideal. But better than that swampy pond you were in when you first met him, it was absolutely horrifying.

Luckily though the family made some adjustments and builds after a while to at least make you live a bit more comfortably since you'll be living with them forever now. (Not that you mind as long as you have Thomas.)

Thomas sometimes wonders how such a pretty creature person like you managed to like him?

Being a half fish half human in the house, you sure are bound to get stared at a lot. But worry not they're not from disgust. Fear because some of these are from mischievous malice and unwanted mockery and jokes from his other family members. That your dear loving Thomas always protects you from, it's why he's so hesitant to leave you alone. As much as he loves his family he knows how upsetting they can get.

When he's hanging out with you he's staring at every part of your face, how your expression changes to different topics and subjects. How your eyes and lips look when you smile.

He loves how everything about you is so unique and so... Ethereal. He's lowkey crazy over you.

If anyone makes a mean Or not very innocent remark about you, you bet your ass Thomas will put that person back in their place.

He's just so happy someone like you managed to accept him as who he is.

9/10

I'm sorry if the last one was cringe and short. I've been writing this for over two hours and I'm so tired.

415 notes · View notes

vidavalor · 3 months

Note

Thank you so much for all your wonderful metas - I enjoy them a great deal. I hope I am not going over old ground here, but I have just finished your defence of Aziraphale's choice (which I agree with 100%) and it has prompted me to ask your opinion of the following:

Having witnessed the Metatron impose upon Aziraphale's good will and impeccable manners and endless sense of obligation with a sodding coffee, WHY did Crowley allow the angel to leave with this wily, manipulative being?

Now, admittedly, Crowley did get to his feet and follow them briefly (after being on the receiving end of that terrifyingly pointed glare from the Metatron) but is immediately distracted by Muriel and thoughts of breakfast with Aziraphale.

This is the same demon who is never still. Always wary, always on guard, always patrolling. Yet, after that ridiculous coffee conversation, after Aziraphale looks to him for direction ("Ummm.."), after that glare, he just waves the angel off on his way for a chinwag.

I actually wrote the scene out so that I could "see" it differently, but it did not help me come to any conclusions.

I would LOVE to know what you think.

Sorry. I wittered on a bit there. 😊

Hi @vernajarrett 💕 Thanks for reading & asking! I'm happy to chat about what I think is going on in the moment Crowley acts like a pod person and Derek Jacobi's character gets all that Big Damn Villain Music in the score. I've got the coffee brewing. Oat milk and a dash hefty jigger of almond syrup? 😜

To answer why Crowley is acting so massively weird during the part of 2.06 that you mentioned, we have to start a little before it with the arrival of the last visitor to the bookshop in S2:

a character played by Derek Jacobi:

When the last new character to arrive at the bookshop door in S2 first arrives, we are down to six other characters in the shop. Five of them-- Aziraphale, Muriel, Michael, Uriel and Saraqael-- are angels and the sixth character-- Crowley-- is a demon. Upon the arrival of Derek Jacobi's character, all five of the angels fail to recognize this person. This is a true shock to us because we think we know who this is, right? That's The Metatron.

We know what The Metatron looks like; we've seen his head quite dramatically huge and in our face on several occasions. We feel qualified to say that if Sir Derek Jacobi shows up it must mean that we're looking at The Metatron. What we tend to ignore is... well, everything else that happens here lol... all of which says we are incorrect about this.

First off? All of this is just (entertainingly) weird: The Metatron is a floating head who thinks himself above humanity but he's here now in a body on Whickber Street. He abhors food but he's stopped to get a coffee at the shop and have a chat with Nina. We first spotted him outside by Mrs. Sandwich in line-- is there a more incongruous place you would expect to see The Metatron than that? lol. It makes it very engaging to watch but these are also the first clues to suggest that something really odd is afoot here and when this character goes inside the bookshop, we really get that sense hammered home by the fact that this being we thought we had correctly identified really easily is unrecognizable-- to not one, not two, but five characters on our show, all of whom should instantly know exactly who this person is.

It's at this point that I'll mention that we technically still do not know who plays Satan on Good Omens. The first time he appears, he possesses Crowley by speaking to him using the voice of Freddie Mercury-- so, Satan is being played by a voice actor doing Satan-as-Freddie-Mercury. The second time he appears-- in 1.06-- he there for Adam, who is eleven years old at the time. Satan appears as a gigantic, cartoonish, cliched-red-with-horns-and-hoofs monster, voiced by Benedict Cumberbatch. It is completely at odds with how GO usually does its more horrific and frightening elements. You could argue that Satan appears this way in 1.06 because it's how he would appear to Adam-- to an eleven year old boy. Everyone sees Satan as Adam sees Satan when Satan comes for Adam. A parallel to that would then be the arrival of the character played by Derek Jacobi in 2.06.

Why can't these five angels identify the person who just arrived?

It has to be because they're angels. It's the only thing Aziraphale, Michael, Uriel, Muriel and Saraqael all have in common.

They can't recognize the being at the door because they're angels; meaning: they're not familiars of The Devil.

This is not The Metatron. This is Satan:

You might notice that one of the angels-- Saraqael-- eventually catches on. What they do is another huge clue to who this is. If Saraqael's realization was that this must be The Metatron, they would have spoken up and said that they recognized him, if only to suck up to the boss. But they do not so that is not their realization...

Instead, they don't say a word. They look afraid, look Up, fold their hands together and start to pray. Since this being is obviously one of them and not human-- based on what he said to Michael upon his arrival-- Saraqael has figured out that if they, Michael, Uriel, Muriel and Aziraphale all cannot recognize him, it has to be because this is Satan.

Saraqael doesn't tell anyone else what they've figured out. They just start praying in case it's their number that's up today. The irony of all of this, of course, is that three of these angels who can't recognize the face of evil-- Michael, Uriel and Saraqael-- are honestly pretty garbage people themselves and also that there's not much of a difference in level of evil between The Metatron and Satan. But, technically, Michael, Uriel and Saraqael are angels, just as Muriel and Aziraphale are angels. All it really means in this case, though, is that they've never been thrown to Hell and, because of that fact, they cannot recognize Satan. (It also helps to illustrate how being cast to Hell is political and doesn't really have much to do with whether or not you're a terrible person. It's just who has gotten caught while getting in The Metatron's way.)

Demons can recognize Satan, though. The problem is that they also can be possessed by Satan and influenced into not even knowing he's there... which is what starts happening to Crowley upon the arrival of Satan in the bookshop.

Satan can make Crowley's words sound natural and of Crowley's own volition-- and then make it so that Crowley doesn't even remember saying them. This is why Crowley is acting weird when "The Metatron" is in the same room with him in 2.06.

We've seen something like this a bit when Crowley put Sister Mary in a trance so he and Aziraphale could ask her questions back in S1. Sister Mary really looked like she was in a trance and that's because it wasn't really necessary for either Aziraphale or Crowley to instruct her to act any differently. They were the only other ones around and they weren't manipulating Sister Mary's behavior in an attempt to use her to influence other people-- they were only seeking information from her. How she acted when giving them that information wasn't something they were terribly concerned with because it didn't really matter.

When they had all the information they thought she possessed, Aziraphale brought her out of the trance by telling her that she was now awake and had just had a dream of whatever she liked best. As he and Crowley are walking away, we see Sister Mary seem like she just woke up a bit from actual sleep and she looks calm and refreshed-- like she really did just have a dream of whatever she likes best.

In that moment, Sister Mary is unconcerned with the fact that such a thought is completely incongruous with the fact that she is standing, dressed in work clothes, in the hallway of her workplace. She does not remember the two people who were just there asking her questions or what they asked her. She believes she was dreaming because that is what Aziraphale told her to believe had happened.

The point is that while Sister Mary didn't know she had been influenced like this and could not remember what had happened while she was being influenced, the effects of it remained a little afterwards, as she continued to believe what it was she was told while under the influence. Aziraphale's instructions to her were comparatively pretty innocent-- he told her she had a great dream so she continued to believe that to be true. Satan in 2.06, on the other hand, is not telling Crowley that he just had a dream of whatever he likes best.

Satan possesses Crowley from the start of the scene, accounting for Crowley's quiet and stillness in the early moments of it. He not only tells Crowley to identify him as The Metatron to Aziraphale and the other angels but he makes Crowley believe that he is The Metatron for real. He tells him to make it sound natural when he tells the angels who he is so that they will believe it. That's why Crowley doesn't sound like he's in a trance, the way that Sister Mary did in S1.

I want to throw in here something else, too, that's kind of a foreshadowing/paralleling scene to this as well that comes a couple of episodes prior to this one we're talking about and that is... whatever the fuck exactly was happening to Gabriel in the "tempest" scene.

For the record, I do not believe that it was Satan possessing Gabriel in that scene. I actually think it's some witch-related stuff--I swear the voice speaking with him is Anathema-- but I bring it up even though we don't know what this is totally all about yet because it has some paralleling things that we can already see are relevant.

First off? Where Gabriel is when this happens:

He's sitting in Aziraphale's desk chair. I'm not trying to say the chair itself is spooky (though it is as a result of all of this? lol) so much as I'm saying that both Gabriel and Crowley acting weird and taken over while sitting in Aziraphale's desk chair (which is very much symbolizing Aziraphale) is one of the many things reinforcing that Aziraphale is falling because here are these two characters who parallel him the most-- the two, other most important characters in the show, arguably, and the two also living in the bookshop in S2-- and they're both falling victim to darkness while sitting in his chair.

But what I really want to point out here is what happens to Jim after his possession. Watch Gabriel's eyes at the end here:

There are a few seconds more as well in the show when his eyes resettle on Crowley. Gabriel disappears entirely while he's being possessed. He is speaking words that Crowley can hear and that Crowley recognizes as coming from Gabriel's voice... but when Gabriel blinks back into the room and looks at Crowley, he has no idea what just happened.

He doesn't remember what he just said. He isn't aware of the fact that someone was just possessing him. He feels a little disoriented and anxious-- which is also sort of Jim's default state in S2-- but what we and Crowley witnessed him saying? He has no idea about that. Shax shows up outside the bookshop and causes a distraction that keeps us and Crowley and Gabriel from sorting all of this out until S3 but Gabriel's expressions on the other side of his possession indicate that he has no idea where he just was mentally, what he just said or did, or that someone was in his mind. This is another scene emphasizing this aspect of possession on Good Omens-- no matter who is doing the possessing. The exact same effects of possession is what is happening to Crowley in 2.06.

So, Satan uses Crowley to identify him to the others as The Metatron and makes him believe that he is The Metatron to cover up the fact that he's been in his mind. Crowley has no idea that Satan has been in the bookshop. The moment this becomes clear, though, is the first one you mentioned in your ask, which is when Crowley really confirms for us exactly who Derek Jacobi is playing by doing something so wildly out of character that it's almost impossible to justify without considering the idea that he's being possessed:

encouraging Aziraphale to go somewhere alone with who he believes to be The Metatron.

Next time you're watching this scene-- and GO, in general-- look for where the music stops altogether. There are moments in GO when the score just ceases to exist entirely for a period of time so that we can hear the words that are being said without any distractions. I've found that scenes where this is happening are usually pretty pivotal, either from a wordplay perspective or a plot perspective or, often, both. There is basically no music in the whole scene in which "The Metatron" appears to have arrived at the bookshop.

The score disappears upon "The Metatron's" arrival and it only returns with that big bit of organ-y "DUN DUN DUNNN" villain music right at a pivotal point in the scene you're talking about:

The music comes back at exactly the moment that the camera holds on "The Metatron" as he is staring at Crowley. Why here?

They really, really want you to notice this glare that this person played by Derek Jacobi is leveling at Crowley. We already don't trust this character if he is The Metatron and he's been nothing but a dick since he arrived, really-- he used "demon" to refer to Crowley, he called Muriel "dim" (he can rot for that alone), and he was a total prick to Michael and Uriel. As awful as they are, no one should be spoken to like that. No one-- including most of the audience-- sees this as being extra-villain-y because this is just how The Metatron is so it's expected behavior from who we might think this character is.

So, to show us who this really is, they can't just rely on us noticing that he's in a dark coat and tie (why is he in Hell colors?!) or that he brought along a temptation coffee or that he uses language from Mary Poppins ("spit spot") when speaking to the angels. All those are clues, for sure, but the moment the music comes back is when the show is trying to give us the biggest of the clues to who this really is-- when the scene is structured to show us that he is attacking Crowley.

Because this isn't actually The Metatron glaring at Crowley; it is Satan giving Crowley instructions to stay put.

It's why Crowley doesn't follow them afterwards and continues to believe that The Metatron was who was in the bookshop-- even as Aziraphale has figured out who it really is. Look at Aziraphale's response here and you'll see that this is one of the scenes that suggests he is pretty damn sure this is not The Metatron:

Aziraphale's head whips over to "The Metatron" in response to what Crowley said because he knows what the only explanation for that response out of Crowley is. If you are looking at "The Metatron" while Aziraphale is still turning his head, you can see that he's still staring at Crowley because he was instructing him to tell Aziraphale to go and to not come with them. Satan pastes on a fake as fuck smile when Aziraphale looks at him but it's actually too late-- Aziraphale already knows what's going on. He just doesn't want Satan to know he knows.

Aziraphale knows that there's no way in the universe that Crowley-- who was so worried about danger yesterday that he escorted him to, like, Arnold's Music Shop and Mrs. Cheng's restaurant lol-- would ever just chill in the desk chair while Aziraphale went somewhere alone with The Metatron.

Ever.

The Big Damn Villain Music shows up after "The Metatron"'s fake smile to Aziraphale. It is in the exact moment that he looks at Crowley again and finishes the instructions he was giving before Aziraphale turned his head. It's because this is one of the biggest clues to this character's identity-- who can do this to Crowley? Satan.

Based on the scenes that follow, Satan here is telling Crowley something like:

You will not follow us. He will be back soon. Everything is fine. I was never here; I am The Metatron. Aziraphale is not in any danger. Stay where you are.

This scene-- the one highlighted by the music-- where Satan is silently giving Crowley directions is the one most like the time we see Satan possess Crowley in 1.01. It has a similar effect for a moment, which is probably why the music kicks in here as it's the best way to remind the audience of who can do this to Crowley and how.

In that 1.01 moment, there was no one else around and Satan was not possessing Crowley for the purposes of having him speak to influence someone else's behavior. Since he did not need Crowley to speak in the scene, Crowley does not. He is silent and still while Satan speaks in his mind and gives him instructions. We see that Satan can take such full control over Crowley that Crowley is trapped within himself. He can't speak, he can't scream, he can't move-- so, he can't drive the car and his connection to the car is shattered to a point that The Bentley is almost in a head-on collision with a truck. This is our introduction to the level of possession that Satan has over him-- all contrasted with the fact that Crowley is supposed to be on a date with Aziraphale in the sushi restaurant. This is all coming back around in 2.06.

Its return is also foreshadowed by this Shax bit during the bookshop attack... Crowley missing when he's supposed to be safe with Aziraphale and Aziraphale worried that Satan has Crowley because the demons are circling and Shax... who exists to get inside people's heads a bit... as if echoing Aziraphale's thoughts, says:

Shall we send up the sushi?

After all... do we really think that a season that spent all that time on whether or not actual demons (representing a person's inner demons) were going to be able to get into the bookshop (symbolically, Aziraphale, and Crowley & Aziraphale) is going to let those demons into the bookshop and then just... decide Satan is on vacation for the week? Or do we think that it's not coincidental that the offer Aziraphale is presented with also happens to be the one thing in the entire Universe that could ever tempt him to Hell?

Hmm... 😉

Anyway, back for a moment to the scene in 2.06 when Satan influences Crowley into staying behind and telling Aziraphale to go with "The Metatron"... The undersung thing in this scene, imho, is Aziraphale's reaction.

If Aziraphale really believed this to be The Metatron with 100% certainty, he could have responded to what Satan just made Crowley say by pressing this idea of them going for "The Metatron's" proposed stroll. He could have said aloud to Crowley: "why don't you come with us?" or he could have told The Metatron that he didn't want to go for a walk and why didn't they just sit here in the bookshop instead and anything The Metatron wanted to say to him, he could say to him and Crowley together? If Aziraphale really completely believed that this was The Metatron, he could have-- and would have-- tried either of those things or something like them in response to what Satan made Crowley say.

Instead, what does Aziraphale do?

He *immediately* starts for the bookshop door. Why?

Because he knows that Crowley is not speaking of his own free will and that the person he identified as The Metatron is, in all likelihood, actually Satan. Aziraphale immediately starts for the door because Satan will have to follow him out, since he was the one who proposed this stroll. Aziraphale abandons the idea of Crowley coming with them when he sees that Crowley is being harmed. Instead, he goes alone with Satan, immediately luring him out of the shop so as to get him away from Crowley.

He leaves the bookshop with Satan to protect Crowley. It also foreshadows the fact that he's going to fall over a temptation that is related to Crowley's safety.

Look at how Aziraphale looks back to make sure that Satan is following him and quickly... how nervous and shaky he looks. He would be nervous if this were The Metatron, sure, yes, absolutely. In this moment, though, he's just living one of his worst nightmares-- the bookshop that he built that protects Crowley has been overrun and Crowley has been harmed right there in front of him.

This is their house. It's their living room, where Crowley's lounged for thousands of nights. Crowley is in Aziraphale's own desk chair. This is supposed to be the place where they both feel safe but now there is no safe space so Aziraphale is doing the best he can in the moment by just responding intuitively and protectively by saying with his actions: Get away from him. Follow me. You can have me. Leave him alone.

So, they go out, right? What happens next but the other scene you mentioned in your ask: Crowley and Muriel.

Crowley gets up out of the chair basically the second Satan and Aziraphale are no longer in the shop because Satan's hold on him in that moment is gone and he probably unconsciously needs to move, since Satan was literally not letting him get out of the chair. This is where the weird behavior gets even more weird-- Crowley doesn't follow them. He literally watches from within the shop through the window for a second as Aziraphale leads "The Metatron" over to Marguerite's. Why doesn't he go after them? Because Satan told him to stay in the shop. Just like with Sister Mary believing she had been dreaming, what Crowley has been influenced by Satan into doing lingers with him gone, since he was instructed by Satan to stay in the shop until Aziraphale gets back.

Crowley paces a little circle like a caged tiger, going back further *into* the bookshop-- a totally normal response to his partner going for coffee alone with a murderous psychopath. He mutters to himself:

"They'll be back soon."

WHAT. THE...? How is there anybody who thinks this behavior is normal at this point?

Crowley turns around and Muriel is there. He jumps a bit, having forgotten they were still in the shop. So did the audience, honestly. This may or may not be significant in S3. Muriel being there in the background, blending into the walls during this scene also means that Muriel is now maybe the only character who could actually tell Crowley what happened during the scenes we have been talking about here because he doesn't remember anything involving what he said.

If you were to ask Crowley at any point from the time "The Metatron" and Aziraphale leave the shop on in S2 who identified "The Metatron", he couldn't tell you. If you were to tell him he told Aziraphale to go with "The Metatron", he would not remember doing that. He has as much memory of the words he spoke in the scene with "The Metatron" as Gabriel does of his "there will come a tempest" moment-- which is to say, none.

Crowley knows that Aziraphale has gone with The Metatron and that they will be back soon. He doesn't know how that came to pass and he has been rendered by Satan incapable of leaving the shop or considering the idea that he should follow them.

If the being at the door is Satan and if Aziraphale's fall is where we left the end of 2.06, Aziraphale could lose his memory, at least for a time, which means that the only character who was a reliable witness to Satan influencing Crowley in this scene is Muriel. One purpose of having them in the shop during these moments from a writing standpoint-- as opposed to sending them over to Nina's coffee shop earlier-- might be to set up a character in S3 who can tell Crowley what it was that actually happened here. (Lucky Muriel lol.)

As you pointed out, Crowley starts speaking to Muriel casually, as if nothing is going wrong. He tells Muriel that they should leave the shop, too, and Muriel says:

The Metatron-- really: Satan-- did tell Muriel to wait in the shop but he did so just by pretending to be The Metatron. While there's no possession there with Muriel, Muriel's line to Crowley is also emphasizing what actually just happened to Crowley himself to the audience. "The Metatron" has told them both to wait in the shop-- so, they are waiting in the shop. They're both following directions they've been influenced in different ways to follow. By Muriel saying that they've been told to wait-- even if they were told in a different way than Crowley was-- it suggests that following a directive is also the reason why Crowley himself is still in the shop.

Crowley's response to Muriel, though, makes him sound like he's back to himself-- and, in several ways, he is. He is remaining in the shop because of the influence but he is not currently under an active influence so he can say what it is that he chooses to say. When he's a little sarcastic with Muriel, it sounds like his normal speech because it is. What he doesn't understand is that he's been influenced to do the same thing Muriel has been-- to wait there in the shop-- just against his will, as opposed to Muriel's conscious decision to follow the directive.

Here's where we have to consider Crowley's audience when we talk about what he says next. Crowley likes Muriel; of all the angels not named Aziraphale that he's met, Muriel's definitely top of the list. That said... Muriel is still an angel who is desperate to please The Metatron, as they just proved to him again in this scene by being excited to have been singled out to assist who they believe to be The Metatron. Muriel whole thing is that they're an Inspector Constable; they are literally the (supernatural) police and Crowley wisely doesn't trust the police.

Crowley has no doubt that, after Muriel does leave the shop, that they'd tell The Metatron anything he said. Crowley actually does believe that Aziraphale is in big trouble because he doesn't trust The Metatron-- he's just been rendered incapable of realizing that he's staying in the bookshop because he's been instructed to do so by Satan, who is really the person with Aziraphale in that moment. As a result, Crowley's mind has jumped to a plan for when Aziraphale comes back from coffee with whom Crowley believes is The Metatron.

Crowley has no doubt that Aziraphale will come back because he's been influenced to believe this to be true, which is why he keeps saying "they will be back soon" and "when Aziraphale does come back", instead of being terrified that Aziraphale will not come back at all, which is what he normally would have been if Aziraphale were alone with The Metatron. It is, in this case, going to be true that Aziraphale returns because that is part of Satan's plan and one of the reasons why he influenced Crowley into believing so.

So, anyway, Crowley thinks the big threat is The Metatron potentially erasing Aziraphale into non-existence by deleting him from The Book of Life. This isn't actually a thing, as Crowley told Beez back early on in the season, but Beez, being horrified to realize that they might have been manipulated by something they themselves and Crowley made up ages ago, doubled down out of embarrassment on it being real and led Crowley to believe in its existence as a result. Crowley has spent the season terrified that Aziraphale is going to be made to have never existed. The plan he's cooking up to save Aziraphale from that fate-- which is what he thinks is going on-- is not one he wants to share with the police. It's not one he's going to say aloud in front of Muriel because that might as well be saying it to The Metatron, as far as Crowley is concerned. We won't actually hear Crowley's plan until he delivers it to Aziraphale in coded speech in The Disaster Kiss Scene and by that point, everything is going, um, really, really badly.

(It's the reason why there's no music in that moment so you can literally hear the words echo around the room when Crowley starts in on it and basically shouts the "THIS PLANET" part at Aziraphale but that's straying from the scenes you asked about so *focuses* 😊)

So, Crowley instead says what he'd really, truly, honestly love to be doing for the rest of the morning and he does so in the way that he and Aziraphale do when someone who doesn't speak their language is around and annoying them-- he says it in Ineffable Husbands Speak to amuse himself and, probably, to amuse Aziraphale, whom he plans on telling later. (He'll do this again a few minutes later, when Maggie is ticking him off by saying he and Aziraphale don't talk.)

Crowley says:

Does Crowley want a little Us Time with Aziraphale when he comes back? Does he want to go with him to have an extremely alcoholic breakfast at The Ritz? (Ineffable Husbands Speak for boozy brunch and sex after too long without it?) Yes. Eventually. But he knows there's very dangerous trouble to be dealt with first.

Crowley says that because he wants Muriel to think that he is just preoccupied with thoughts of Aziraphale and breakfast-- because that's what he wants The Metatron to think and he knows Muriel will tell The Metatron what it is that he said.

Crowley wants The Metatron to think he doesn't have a plan.

But, really, when we have known Crowley to not have a plan? 😊

The problem is that it's a plan for the wrong scenario.

It's not The Book of Life that's happening; it's Aziraphale's fall.

It's not The Metatron at the door; it's Satan.

This is almost the entire communication mess of That Disaster Kiss Scene. They're being watched and whatever the fuck happened to Crowley, he can't see that freezing time to speak openly is an option so he and Aziraphale are boxed into trying to each convey what they think is happening and their plans to stop it using their cant vocabulary.

The ironic thing is that while they-- like the audience lol-- have two different ideas of who the being watching them is and what the threat is as a result, they actually both have almost exactly the same plan... with one, key, very romantic difference.

But that's another meta. 😜

In the meantime, I'll just leave you with a reminder of what "The Metatron" said in a moment when Crowley was still in the room:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens theory #crowley x aziraphale #the metatron #the final fifteen

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lilithtransrights · 5 months

Text

I don't think we talk enough about how stupid the demand for apolitical media is. I'm not just talking about the right wing idiots that call every piece of media woke for even daring to include a character that doesn't fit their small group of people they tolerate but also the idea that media can be apolitical.

I do and have always believed that it's nearly impossible to not include your own personal beliefs and world views in your art. Most of these views are just so commonly accepted that we don't really think about them. For example sharing and taking care of those in need is seen as the moral correct thing to do by almost every human, or well at least it is theory. To some degree you might even project your own views on the media you're currently observing and might interpret things differently from someone with a different view.

I've always loved that part of media discussion. Looking at the little things an author, director, musician or artist would include in their art and thinking about why they did it in that specific way. Why did they design the interior of this character's office in this way? Was it coincidentally? Does it reflect the personality of the character? Why did the musician pick that specific cord progression? And don't tell me they just did it because it sounded good, there was a way they wanted you to feel when you heard it.

My favorite example of people going all the way in recent years is the movie Pig. Nothing in that movie feels coincidental. It feels like Michael Sarnoski and Vanessa Block put a lot of thought into their character's personalities, how they would behave in different situations or what kind of car they would drive. And that movie perfectly highlights how pretentious the food industry has gotten.

And fuck it I'm going there, the creator isn't the final authority on how their work is interpreted. Like I already said your work is influenced by the world around you, your personal beliefs and your morals. Stop trying to tell your audience how your work was meant and make sure you put enough thought into it so that they'll realize it themselves.

In the same motion stop looking for validation from the creator for your theories. Your theory might be based on your personal experiences or your expectations and the way you therefore view their art and discussing this with others is some of the greatest joy in my opinion.

Also include more trans people in your work and make them kiss. That's my final message.

#lilithtransrights

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bqstqnbruin · 4 months

Text

Forget About Us

Hello this is my first fic in like almost 6 months inspired by Forget About Us by Perrie Edwards

Thanks to my loves @nicohischier @assmanselke and @matthewtkachuk for yelling at me and letting me yell about this fic :)

Summary: Carson meets Jack, Jack falls for Carson, Carson does what she wants.

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, aNGST

Flashbacks are in italics. Also, I swear I read through this more than once but there might be errors unintentionally 😬

_________________________________________

Looking up into the stands, every game he plays in this city, he’s looking for her. He had been doing it for the past few years, always expecting to see her.

___________________________

“Can you stop pouting? We’re going to go out after the game,” Morgan begs.

“I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to be here or anywhere else besides my bed.”

Morgan rolls her eyes, sitting down in her seat. “Carson, you never go out.”

“Because I never want to go out,” she repeats. “I don’t have the money to go out.”

“The tickets were free from my job and I told you I would pay for your drinks tonight.”

“I don’t feel good,” Carson whines, knowing that it still wouldn’t be enough.

“You’re fine.”

“I’m on my period.”

“So am I, what’s your point?”

“Your period doesn’t make you double over in pain for three days.”

“This is the fourth day of your period when you have told me you always feel fine. And your period has been regular since you were fifteen when you went on birth control.”

“I don’t like that you know that.”

“Then maybe don’t tell me the same thing like a broken record every month?” Carson continues to pout, even though her friend is right. “Do you really not want to be here? We can leave after the first period if you really aren’t having fun. But, you do keep telling me you’ve been wanting to come to a game since we moved here.”

“No,” she drags out. “I just had a bad day at work.”

“What happened?”

The teams start coming out onto the ice for warm-ups, everyone booing the away team. It made no sense. They weren’t even actual rivals. The other team, from Carson’s understanding, was so inconsequential that they shouldn’t even matter. But who was she to argue?

“Anthony came by work today.”

“Anthony? Like Anthony, your ex, Anthony?”

“No, Anthony Michael Hall from The Breakfast Club.”

“What did he say?”

She and Morgan had this same conversation every week. “He wants to get back together.”

“And you told him, ‘no,’ right?”

“I’m grumpy, not stupid.”

Morgan sighs. Anthony kept showing up at the cafe Carson worked at between classes to ask for her back for the last month. He didn’t seem to care about the fact that they wanted wildly different things in their lives and that they weren’t going to work. Carson wanted to get her JD and leave New Jersey for good. She was tired of the debate over whether or not the central part of the state existed, if it was called Taylor Ham or Pork Roll, and which beach down the shore was the best. She wanted out as soon as possible, and Anthony wanted to stay here and settle down. He wanted someone who wanted to be at home with the kids, which Carson really didn’t want. The only way she could think about staying in New Jersey was if her partner wanted everything else she wanted. Whoever she ended up with had to be everything else to her. Anthony wasn’t it.

Morgan slowly forms a smile on her face, one that immediately makes Carson panic. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

“Who said I’m going to do something that you’ll hate?”

“Every past action that you’ve done without talking to me about it first says you’re going to do something I’m going to end up hating.”

Morgan rolls her eyes, pulling out her wallet and handing Carson her debit card. “Here, you go get us beer and pizza so that way you don’t have to see what I’m about to do.” Carson sits there, Morgan shoving the card into her hands. “Go.”

Both of them get up from their seats, Carson feeling a sense of panic as she watches her roommate go down to the ice while typing furiously on her phone. Carson tries to get back to their seats as fast as she can, worried about what antics she was about to be dragged into. She wanted to be home early that night so she could start studying for one of her exams that week. She did not have time to do whatever it was that Morgan was planning to do.

“Here,” Morgan hands her something as she sits back down, Carson still trying to figure out how to balance two overflowing drinks and two slices of pizza larger than her own head. “I got this for you.”

“You got me a puck?”

“Yes.”

“Ok?”

“You could say thank you.”

“Thank you for a piece of rubber that could probably break a bone if you get hit with it hard enough.”

“You’ll get the rest of what I got you tonight.”

“I swear to god,” Carson starts. “I’m not god, but I am close to a goddess.”

Carson groans, trying to focus on anything other than the terror that she was sure was about to come to her tonight. One of the players kept looking up at her, over his shoulder and seemingly ignoring his teammates. “What did you do?”

Morgan shrugs, nudging Carson’s shoulder as she waves at the player. “His name is Jack.”

“Just because I’m studying law, that doesn’t mean I’m above breaking at least one of them.”

“Yes, it does.”

The game starts, Carson’s eyes staying on the one player who had been watching her before. He gave her the vibes of someone who would end up naked and drunk in the hallway of her dorm in college, passed out and unsure of where his pants or keys were.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Morgan asks once the second period starts.

Carson doesn’t make a noise, just nodding. He was the exact type of mistake she would make on a night out when she needed to forget about something. “Why does he keep staring?”

“Probably for the same reason you’re staring at him even if you do look like you want to kill him.” Carson turns to glare at Morgan. “I’m just saying, you might be hot, but you also look like you could commit a felony right now.”

Carson sighs, waiting for the end of the game. She had no idea what was going on, but Morgan seemed to be into it at least.

Carson lets out a yawn as the fans start to file out of the arena, Morgan dragging her along behind her. “Can we please just go home?”

“No, I have a surprise for you.”

“Last time you had a surprise for me, I ended up needing three of my tires replaced.”

“And they gave you the fourth one for free, anyway,” Morgan grabs Carson’s hand, pulling her in the direction of some bar she wouldn’t remember the name of in the morning.

Carson knew that no matter how much she complained to Morgan, her friend would have something to counter every whine. They had lived together all four years of college before finally somehow scraping together enough money to each get their own places, despite the fact that they were still neighbors in their apartment building. Morgan, unfortunately, could get Carson to do anything she asked her to since she knew exactly how to make it so Carson wouldn’t say no. Most of the time, it involved physically dragging Carson places, like she was doing right now, but it always somehow worked.

“I’m paying for drinks,” Morgan tells her, dropping Carson’s hand as they two walk into the unreasonably crowded and slightly smelly bar.

“Yeah, like that was in question,” Carson tells her.

“You go sit down, I’ll find you.”

Morgan leaves Carson alone. The scene around her made her want to run away, except for the fact that Morgan could track her location and would not be above chasing her down the street and dragging her back to the bar. Everyone seemed like they were five drinks in, Carson feeling anxious about being what seemed to be the only sober person around.

“You ok?” a voice comes behind her, snapping her out of her potential spiral. She turns around, the guy from the game standing in front of her.

“This isn’t real,” she mutters, shaking her head. How the hell did Morgan manage this?

“What?” the guy asks, understandably confused.

“Sorry,” Carson says. “I mean, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I’m dehydrated.”

“Can I get you water, then?”

“No.”

“But, wouldn’t that help with the dehydration thing?”

Carson stares at him, dumbfounded. “I can get water myself,” she says, her tone a little harsher than she intended it to be.

“I’m Jack,” he introduces himself, not getting the message at all.

“That’s nice.”

“Do you have a name?”

“No, that spot on my birth certificate has been blank for the last twenty four years. Everyone calls me whatever nickname they can think of. The current one is ‘Maverick.’”

Jack opens his mouth to say something, Morgan appearing in between them before he can get a word in. “You actually came!”

“How could I pass up coming to meet someone as sweet as your friend here after the game?”

Carson barely knew him, but she already knew he would be a thorne in her side.

“She’s already been mean to you, hasn’t she?” Morgan laughs, finally handing Carson the drink she got for her.

“Hey,” Carson tries to protest, despite both of them ignoring her.

“It’s fine. It’s kinda hot,” he smirks, staring at Carson. She didn’t care that she couldn’t help but stare back, her cheeks bright red at his words.

___________________________

She always sat in the same general area, a few rows from the top of the section right behind their bench. It was easy to find her. How could he not at least try?

___________________________

“Why are you anxious?” Morgan asks, plopping down on Carson’s couch.

“Who said I was anxious?”

“You’re scrunchie.”

“What could that possibly mean?”

“You’re scrunching your brow so much and frowning so hard that you have wifi symbols showing on your face. You only do that when you’re anxious.”

“Please don’t say that to me ever again.” Carson lets out a sigh. She shouldn’t be anxious. She’s done things that were so much more difficult than this. She graduated with a 4.0 GPA in high school and college. She participated in every possible extra curricular that she could, and did so perfectly. She had her life scheduled down to the minute, when she would study, eat, have free time. She didn’t have time to be anxious. “Jack is supposed to be here any minute.”

Morgan lets out a squeal so high that Carson covers her ears. “You’re finally going on a date with him?”

“If you want to call it that.”

“Tell me everything,” Morgan says, plopping herself at Carson’s feet.

“No.”

“Carson,” Morgan whines.

“Morgan,” Carson counters. “I don’t even know where we’re going. From what it sounds like, it’s not even going to be just us, it’s something with the team.”

“He’s taking you to meet the rest of his team?” she yells.

“If you get that loud again, I’m throwing you out the window.”

“We both know your window doesn’t open far enough for me to get out of it, we’ve tried. Anyway,” Morgan continues, ignoring Carson’s annoyance, as usual. “That means something if he already wants you to know his teammates.”

“It means he already had plans with them when he asked me to go out with him and is dragging me somewhere I wasn’t otherwise invited.”

“You could be positive sometimes, you know.”

“There’s no fun in that.”

“Carse,” Morgan says, “He wouldn’t be inviting you if he didn’t like you. He wouldn’t have been texting you every waking moment that he could if he didn’t like you.”

“It’s kind of annoying.”

“That’s because you are a black hole personified and he’s the human equivalent of a dumb puppy.”

Carson scrunches her face while she looks at her friend. “That’s mean.”

“I’m trying to say that you two are different. And that’s ok. He’s more extroverted than you are. You’re still going to have fun because you’re going to be with him.” Carson looks at her, unsure. “If you’re not fine, I have your location and I will come join you guys, or come pick you up.”

“Why am I nervous?”

“Probably because this is the first guy you’re going out with that doesn’t look like a dead baby bird.”

“Sometimes, inside thoughts can stay inside.”

“My point,” Morgan starts, pulling Carson up to lead her out the door, “Is that he’s not your normal type and you don’t know what to do, so you’re panicking. But, again, you’ll be fine.”

Before Carson could say anything else, a knock came from the other side of her door. Morgan opens it, Jack standing there with his hands in his jeans pocket.

“Wow,” Morgan verbalizes what Carson was thinking as she tries not to ogle at Jack. His jeans fit him way more perfectly than she would have liked, the t-shirt he had on showing off his arms in a way that made her feel like she was actually about to start drooling. For fucks sake.

“I think Carson is supposed to say that,” Jack jokes, leaning against the door frame.

“Jesus Christ,” Carson groans, Morgan laughing as she pushes her way past Jack to head back to her place.

“Actually, they call me Jack.”

“If you keep this up all night, I’m not leaving this apartment.”

“Is this your way of asking me to come in?”

“Absolutely not. We’re going now to meet your friends or you’re going by yourself.”

Carson didn’t see Jack physically swoon at Carson as she walked past him, a stupid grin on his face as he watched her walk away from him.

___________________________

Morgan was sitting next to her, the two of them seeing less of each other now that they didn’t live with or next to each other anymore. Carson was laughing at something Morgan was telling her, the smile on her face reaching her eyes.

___________________________

“What are you doing right now?”

Carson groaned, knowing that any time Jack was asking her to do something lately, it was to pull her away from something she actually had to get done. “Studying.”

“When’s the test?”

“Next week.”

“Come out with me.”

“No.”

“I’m picking you up, I’m turning onto your street now.”

Jack hangs up before Carson can protest, her immediately texting Morgan to tell her she was being kidnapped.

‘You aren’t being kidnapped, you aren’t a kid.’

‘Kidnapping is anytime a person’s liberty is restrained by force and taken to another location.’

Before Morgan could text back, Jack was knocking at her door.

“I’m not going.”

“Come on. Half an hour?” he begs her. Carson glares at him. “I’ll buy ice cream.”

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Says that three cheese pizza you downed the other night.” Carson continues to glare at him. “Please? I’m leaving tomorrow for a week and a half. It’ll be the last time I can bother you until then.”

Carson rolls her eyes, shutting her textbook with her highlighter keeping her page like a bookmark. “I’m studying in the car.” Jack smiles at her, holding his hand out for her. Carson smirks, grabbing another book from her table and putting it in his hands instead.

Jack runs to follow her, his free hand on the small of her back, a smile on his face as she didn’t fight it. They get in his car, the windows down and the radio blasting as he peels away from where he was parked.

Jack starts talking, Carson not listening in the slightest as she continues to read the book in her lap, just like she promised.

“Wait, shut up,” Carson finally says, reaching over to turn up the music that was already loud. “I love this song.”

Jack laughs, glancing at her as he pulls up to a stop light. “Seriously? 1985 by Bowling for Soup?”

“My childhood best friend and I would listen to this song all the time growing up,” Carson explains,the smile on her face something Jack rarely got to see but loved every time. Jack’s smile mirrored hers as she started to sing along. He couldn’t help but laugh again as he listened to her. “What?”

“You are a horrible singer.”

“Yeah, because you would be better,” she snides, looking back at her book.

“Oh, of course I would be,” he says, starting to sing along with her.

Carson cackles, a sound Jack had never heard from her before. “You are just as bad as I am.”

___________________________

He thought of her whenever that song played, his heart beating faster every time the opening guitar riff played through whatever speaker he was near. He never purposefully listened to that song. The song never played in any of the arenas they played in, except for Rogers Arena, like it was now.

___________________________

“What do you mean, ‘we’re going out tonight?’” Carson groans.

“You just finished finals, Quinn is in town, and we’re heading down the shore for the weekend.”

“So I have to pack for a whole weekend?”

“Unless you plan on wearing the same thing for four days, I suggest you do,” Jack says, Morgan laying on Carson’s bed laughing.

“I wish you were helpful,” Carson says, throwing a shirt at Morgan. “I’m not here to be helpful, I’m here to be comic relief.”

“Then you should try being funny sometimes.”

Jack laughs, his phone buzzing with a call. “I’ll be right back,” he says, getting up and answering it out of Carson’s room.

Once he was out of earshot, Morgan sits up, a giddy look on her face that caused a pit to form in Carson’s stomach. “You’re going away with him for a weekend!” Carson grimaces. “You aren’t excited?”

Carson sighs, getting up to close her door so Jack can’t hear them. “I think he wants more from whatever this is than I do.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan whispers.

“I can’t see a relationship with him.”

“Carse, he’s perfect.”

“He kind of is. Which is why I don’t see it. Anthony was perfect.”

“No, Anthony was the human equivalent of a stale ham sandwich who, if brains were money, wouldn’t have been able to buy a cup of coffee.”

“Go eat something.”

“What?”

“Your metaphors turn food related when you’re hungry.”

“My point is,” Morgan says, getting up. “Anthony is not Jack. Don’t ruin something before it starts because of something that happened with someone else.” “Hey,” Jack says, startling both of them. “Sorry, Luke was asking if we were on his way to pick him up. Are we ready to head out?”

___________________________

He was so busy staring at her that he didn’t realize that Luke had skated up to his side.

“You didn’t know she’d be here?” Jack shakes his head. “Quinn doesn’t know you still love her?”

He shakes his head.

___________________________

Carson hated to admit it, but she was having a good time. She hated to admit that she needed to relax, especially after the intensity that she had when she was taking finals. They were sitting around a fire one of them had set up on the beach, the smell of smoke hitting Carson right in the face, the night air starting to chill around them. The guys were all laughing, their partners sitting in their laps as a few of them fell asleep.

“Where’s Quinn?” Luke leans over Carson to ask Jack.

“You have his location,” Carson says before Jack can answer. The brothers keep anticipating Quinn with every new person that shows up, their usually prompt brother still MIA.

“I don’t know where my phone is.”

“What’s that in your left hand, bud?”

“Right,” Luke draws out as Carson and Jack both laugh at him. “He’s supposed to be here any minute.”

Luke gets up to head back to the house for what he claims is to use the bathroom. “He hasn’t been drunk in a while. He gets dumber as he drinks,” Jack tells her.

Carson checks the can of beer he left behind. “Isn’t this his first drink of the night?”

“Yeah, why?”

“This can is still full.”

“He might just be dumb.”

“Bold of you to call someone else dumb,” an unfamiliar voice comes from behind their circle around the fire.

“I was just about to say that,” Carson says to the guy who must be Quinn, given how much he looks like his brother.

“God, I never realized there’s two of you,” Jack says to Quinn, the color draining from his face.

“I don’t think you’d survive with two of me,” Carson says, Jack mumbling something about going to the house for a minute as he gets up, a smile on his face anyway.

“So, you must be Carson?” Quinn asks her.

“What was your first clue?” she tries to flirt, taking a sip of her drink while maintaining eye contact with him. She knew that Jack was cute, but there was something different about Quinn. She and Jack were opposites. She and Quinn were the same.

___________________________

He still loved the way she looked in that old hoodie that she stole, the team logo faded and cut through, the number that was supposed to be the right side of her chest gone. He remembered when she stole that, the way her eyes lit up the first time he saw her in it as she told him she liked that she could wear it while he was traveling and he would still be with her.

___________________________

“Who’s picking up Carson?” Ellen yells up the stairs.

“I am,” Quinn and Jack both called at the same time, Jack’s mind running wild at the fact that his brother answered with him. Since meeting Quinn a few weeks ago, Carson had been mentioning him a lot more in their conversations. He shouldn’t be bothered by it. They never actually established that they were dating. Sure, they had hooked up, and sure, it was all Jack could think about since, but they were never dating.

He wasn’t Carson’s boyfriend.

“We both are,” Jack amends, running down the stairs when he hears Quinn do the same.

The brothers get in Quinn’s car, a smile across Quinn’s face while Jack can feel himself start to panic. “So, you’re excited to see Carson?”

“Yeah,” Quinn lets out. “I’ve missed Car.”

“Car?”

“That’s what I call her sometimes, yeah.”

“Doesn’t everyone else call her ‘Carse’ if they don’t call her Carson?”

Quinn laughs. “She said she likes when I call her ‘Car,’ instead.” Quinn keeps talking the rest of the way to the airport, both boys getting a text from her saying that she had just landed.

Neither boy had seen Carson in weeks, but it seemed like she had been talking to Quinn much more than she had been talking to Quinn.

Quinn pulls up to the airport, both boys getting out to go find the girl they wanted to see. Jack felt like he was racing Quinn to get to her first, Quinn having no idea what was going on in Jack’s head.

They get inside, both of them looking for her.

“Thanks for introducing us, by the way,” Quinn says, breaking the silence between them.

“What?”

“Me and Carson. When you told me I’d love her, I didn’t realize how right you’d be.”

Jack swallows, the pit in his stomach making him feel like he wanted to throw up. Quinn couldn’t love Carson the way Jack did.

The way Jack did?

Jack spots her first, shaking his head of the thought of loving her when he sees the Canucks sweatshirt with 43 on it hanging on her body. Jack looks at Quinn, Quinn’s favorite sweatshirt on the girl Jack wanted to be with.

Carson spots them, a smile on her face as she runs towards them, her suitcase clumsily trailing behind her. She lets go of her suitcase, it rolling towards Jack as she runs into Quinn’s arms, acting as if Jack wasn’t there to begin with.

___________________________

Morgan says one last thing to Carson, heading back towards the concessions, probably to get them drinks. Knowing Carson, she was out with Morgan on the condition that she didn’t have to pay for drinks. Jack couldn’t help but laugh to himself, Luke giving him a strange look while he stood there, lost in thought.

___________________________

Why would Carson want to be out right now?

She wouldn’t want to.

So why was she out right now at a bar that was way too loud, smelled incredibly bad, and was so crowded she could barely move a muscle without hitting another person?

Morgan.

Well, and Jack.

But, mostly Morgan.

“I hate you for this,” she yelled over whatever music was playing.

“No, you don’t,” Morgan and Jack say at the same time, both of them laughing despite Carson sending both of them a death stare.

“You haven’t been out of your apartment in, like, two months,” Jack says as Morgan walks away to get another drink

“We went to get coffee together four times this week,” Carson rebuttes, her phone in her hand lighting up with a text from Quinn.

She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his name, not paying attention to the clear awkwardness that Jack felt when he saw his own brother’s name on her phone. She loved texting him, talking with him every free minute the two of them had. She was falling for him, and she was falling for him fast.

Quinn loved that she was a lawyer, that she was passionate about helping people, he respected all of her decisions when it came to her uncertainty with her future. He made her laugh, he constantly made sure that she was ok and genuinely showed he cared about her.

He was everything he wanted in a guy, except that he was on the other side of the continent.

“What’s Vancouver like?” she asks Jack, again having to yell over the noise.

Jack shrugs, “It seems a lot like New Jersey, honestly. I’m never there long enough to find out.”

Could she see herself in Vancouver? She had looked into it, she just had to take another exam and be approved by their judicial system and she would be ok to practice law.

Quinn had officially asked her to be his girlfriend when she went to visit the boys a few weeks ago. She wasn’t sure if Jack knew yet.

“I’m going to get another drink, do you want anything?” she asks, elbowing her way back to the bar when he says he’s fine.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” she hears from behind her once she orders her drink. She turns around, trying not to audibly groan.

“Anthony.”

“How are you Carse?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Do I need to give more?”

“Well, it’s a genuine question.”

“‘Fine’ is a genuine answer. What do you want, Anthony?”

“When can we get back together?”

Carson scoffs, the bartender handing her her drink that she was now tempted to throw in his face. “We’re not.”

“Come on, Carse,” he says, taking a step toward her, his hand trailing down her arm. “We had so much fun together. Why do we want to throw all that away?”

“I have a boyfriend, Anthony.”

“I don’t see him.”

Before Carson could answer, she feels Jack come up behind her, thankful that it was him and not some other stranger. “Babe, I told you, I was paying for drinks tonight.”

Carson looks up at him, turning toward him so Anthony couldn’t see her mouth a quick ‘thank you,’ to him. “I put it on your tab, don’t worry,” she turns back to Anthony, the smile on her face because of the stupid look on his face. “Anthony, meet my boyfriend, Jack.”

Anthony mumbles something, walking away before either of them could say anything else.

“I owe you,” Carson says once Anthony is far enough away neither of them could see him.

“Well, drinks are on me tonight,” he says, earning a laugh from her. “Nice job, lying about the boyfriend thing. Think we’ll have to keep it up until we leave?”

Carson laughs again. “I wasn’t lying about having a boyfriend.”

“What?” Jack asks, Carson not noticing the panic on his face.

“Quinn asked me to be his girlfriend.”

Before Jack can respond, Morgan runs over, squealing something about how their song was playing and that they just had to go dance. Carson quickly hands her drink to Jack, running off with her friend.

Jack downs the drink, ordering another.

His brother got the girl.

___________________________

He sees Carson waving to someone down on the ice, his heart racing in the worst way because he knew it wasn’t to him. Jack followed her gaze to Quinn, who was waving back at her, a smile on his face while he was on the ice when he was notorious for looking like he was having an existential crisis all the time. He should hate the guy who got to love the girl he wanted to be with. But how could he hate his brother?

___________________________

“You’re what?”

“I’m moving to Vancouver.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming, too.”

“No you aren’t.”

“I can’t live without you.”

“Morgan,” Carson whines, “You’re going to be fine.”

Morgan groans, rolling her eyes. “I’m being dramatic, let me mourn.” The girls laugh, Carson getting up to grab a drink. “So, you and Quinn are actually serious?”

“Yeah, I mean, we have to be if I’m willing to move across the continent and to another country.”

“Are you going to be able to practice law?”

Before Carson can answer, a knock at her doors follows with someone walking in.

“Are you a murderer?” Morgan yells to the stranger from Carson’s kitchen, prompting Carson to roll her eyes.

“Definitely,” Jack says, appearing in the doorway. “I got us dinner,” he says, holding up a bag. “What are we talking about?”

“If Carson can practice law or not.”

Jack laughs, setting down the food. “How did you manage to get disbarred already? You passed like three months ago.”

“I shot a man in Reno,” Carson deadpans. “I didn’t get disbarred. I’m just,” she hesitates, knowing that telling the two people who were her best friends was going to be the hardest. “I’m moving.”

Jack’s attention snaps to Carson, a look of panic on his face. “Where?”

“She’s moving in with Quinn.”

“You’re moving to Vancouver?”

“Yeah. Quinn asked me last week to move out there with him, and I told him yes today.”

Jack didn’t hear anything else while the three of them sat at Carson’s table and ate the food Jack brought. She would be able to practice law in Canada with a few more steps to get there, she would be living with Quinn.

She would be away from Jack.

She would never be with Jack.

___________________________

He could see the engagement ring on her finger from here, the sapphire in the middle catching the light in just the right way. His mother had their grandmother’s engagement ring, something much more simple, that had been intended for whichever boy wanted to give it to their future partner. Jack didn’t want to give it to anyone. He knew that their grandmother’s ring was picked for their grandmother. He wanted to give his person a ring meant for them. He wanted to give a ring he knew would suit her and would make her think of him whenever she looked at it. That’s why he and Quinn had helped the jeweler design it in the first place. It had to be made for her.

___________________________

Quinn had texted in the family group chat that the ring was ready and that he was picking it up from the jeweler that day after practice.

Everyone in the family congratulated him, his mom gushing about how excited she was to have a daughter, and how happy she was that it was Carson. His dad talked about how he was glad Quinn found someone who made him happy. Luke gave a thumbs up and texted in the group chat without their parents something stupid that Jack still hadn’t read yet.

Jack said nothing.

And he wasn’t sure anyone noticed.

Quinn and Carson were going to be engaged soon.

Jack didn’t know who to talk to, his finger hovering over Carson’s contact. He shouldn’t call her. He could call Morgan. But he knew Morgan was busy doing something with her job. He didn’t want to bother her.

He pressed it, turning on the speaker and pushing his phone away from him before he could hang up.

“Hello?” her name comes out of his speaker. He opens his mouth to say something, realizing he had no idea where to begin. “Jack, are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, dropped my phone,” he lied, lunging to grab it. “We haven’t talked in a while.”

Carson laughs, Jack’s insides jumping at the sound he hadn’t heard in a while. “Yeah, it has been a while.”

“How are things?” he asks, silently smacking his forehead at how stupid he sounded. He used to be able to talk to her with ease, having conversations that would go on for hours before either of them even found any silence between them.

Now he could barely talk to her, the sound of her voice something he wanted to hear so badly, something he missed more than he could actually put into words, and he didn’t know what to say so that he could listen to her.

“Things are actually really great,” she says. He could hear the smile on her face coming through the phone. “Quinn and I just work together, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he repeats to himself, trying to hide the pain he felt hearing that. “Have you and Quinn talked about…” he starts, his voice trailing off, the words catching in his throat knowing that Quinn could technically ask her at any moment.

“About what?”

“About you guys getting married?”

Carson stays quiet for a second, a smile on her face forming that broke Jack’s heart with every millimeter it grew. “Yeah, we have.”

“And?”

Carson’s cheeks turned red. “He hasn’t told me outright, but I think he’s proposing soon.”

Jack’s heart fully shattered, a fake smile on his face. “That’s great.”

“He hasn’t talked to you about it at all?”

“We, uh,” he starts, running his hand through his hair as he laid down on his bed. “We haven’t been able to get each other on the phone lately.” The two of them sat in silence, one of the first times neither of them knew what to say to each other. Conversation used to be so easy between them. “Don’t do it.”

“What?” Carson asks, Jack unsure if she didn’t hear him or thought she didn’t.

“Don’t get engaged to him.”

“Jack-”

“Carson, I still love you,” he blurts out, leaving Carson stunned. “Carson, please say something.” He wasn’t planning on telling her during this conversation. He wasn’t planning on telling her at all.

“Still?”

“I think I started falling for you the first minute I saw you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jack swallows, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “By the time I realized it, you were already falling in love with Quinn.”

“Jack.”

“How could I tell you I love you when I was watching you fall in love with my older brother?”

“Jack.”

“How am I supposed to sit here knowing that you’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone who is perfect for you knowing that I was so close to being that person?” he says outloud.

“What do you want me to say?” she whispers.

“Tell me you won’t do it.”

Carson squeezes her eyes shut, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I can’t.”

“Carson.”

“Jack, I love Quinn. And he loves me. It has to go both ways. I can’t tell him ‘no’ because you feel something for me that I never felt for you.” Jack says nothing, mostly because he doesn’t know what to say. “I have to go. Quinn will be home any minute.”

Carson hangs up, without saying another word, the front door opening as she whipped away her tears.

“Hey,” Quinn says, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “You ready to head out?”

“Uh, just give me a minute. I was talking to Jack and got distracted.”

“Yeah? How is he? I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

“He mentioned that,” Carson nods, getting up from her chair. “I’m gonna go grab my shoes.”

Quinn watches her walk away, checking his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed for the night.

Phone, check.

Keys, check.

Wallet, check.

Engagement ring.

Check.

___________________________

Quinn skates over to his brothers, who were still standing next to each other. The crowd starts yelling, as they normally do when the three brothers are on the same ice at the same time. Luke and Jack greet Quinn, Jack trying to pretend like he wasn’t distracted.

“Hey, wait,” Quinn says when the two are about to skate away. Luke hangs back slightly, pretending not to listen. “Carson wants to get together after the game, all four of us.”

Jack looks at Luke. “Uh, we have a flight out tonight.”

“Luke said you guys are leaving until the morning.”

“It got changed,” Jack lies, making a mental note to turn off his location and hope he can convince Luke to do the same. “The weather’s supposed to be too bad to fly out in the morning.”

“Come on. It’s the last time we’ll be able to get together, just the four of us, before the wedding.”

___________________________

“Ready to go?” Luke asks, suitcase in hand as their boarding group gets called.

“No,” Jack mumbles.

Luke rolls his eyes, yanking Jack by the arm to pull him towards the plane. “What’s your problem with Carson?” Jack fastens his seatbelt, pretending not to hear his younger brother. “Dude.”

“I don’t have a problem with Carson.”

“Then why do you shut down and act like a prick any time we go see them, or anytime her name is mentioned?” Jack doesn’t say anything. “No, we have 6 hours on this plane, so either you are going to use that time to tell me why you have a problem with our future sister-in-law or I’m going to tell Quinn that I’m worried you’re going to Richard Ramirez her in her sleep.”

Jack looks at his brother with a look of horror. “What the fuck? I’m not the Night Stalker.”

“Talk,” Luke pokes his brother’s side.

“I liked Carson before she met Quinn.”

“You’re acting like this because you had a crush on her?”

“I’m acting like this because I fell in love with her and she never even thought of me that way.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Every interaction you’ve ever had with her now makes sense.”

“What?”

“Every time you talk to her, you have that look on your face like she was telling you she killed your first born.” Jack looks at him horrified, again. “Yeah, like that.”

“Stop watching CSI.”

“There’s so many seasons.”

Luke keeps talking about something while he doesn’t realize Jack is barely paying attention, interjecting with a generic confirmatory noise every once in a while until Jack finally pretends to go to sleep.

His brother eventually falls asleep instead, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts without his brother’s voice in his ear. He hadn’t seen or talked to Carson since the night she called him before Quinn had proposed. She went from a stranger, to someone he could see in his life forever, back to a stranger.

He couldn’t even talk to a girl anymore without thinking of Carson, how she compared to her, how her humor and deadpan delivery wasn’t the same as Carson’s, how she didn’t look like Carson or walk like Carson. He was in love with his brother’s fiance, on his way to their engagement party.

___________________________

Jack barely processed what happened during the game. He made the plays he had to, passed the puck when he needed to, but his mind was empty.

After the game, Luke comes up to him once they're both dressed. “Ready for this?”

“No.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

They wait for Quinn outside, the adrenaline coursing through him more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t sure he could face her, even after all this time.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, the voice he once loved now sending panic through him.

“Hi.”

___________________________

“Alright, you’ve got to get it together,” Luke says as they get out of the car that brought them to the venue. Their parents were already inside, Carson and Quinn definitely inside.

“I’ll be fine,” he lies, a gift in shaking hand as he opens the door with the other to let Luke go first. He took a deep breath, bracing himself to go in and face Carson for the first time since their phone call the night they ended up getting engaged. “I’ll be fine.”

The party was set up in a way that made exact sense for Carson, it was classy and elegant, while still having shades of Quinn’s chaos thrown in here and there. He didn’t know exactly why it made sense for them, but it did.

Because they made sense.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, causing him to jump. Carson stands behind him, a short white dress fitting her perfectly in a way that made his heart race. He knew there was a reason to wear a black shirt, and it was to hide the sweat that he felt coming on just being around her. “How are you?”

“Good,” he says, holding out the gift. “This is from us.”

“Us?”

“Um,” he shakes his head, letting out a nervous laugh. “Me and Luke. You didn’t expect him to pick something out on his own, did you?’

“No, not at all.”

They stand in silence, neither of them knowing what to do. “You look good,” he says, probably one of the first opinions he shared that actually had some semblance of truth to it.

“Thanks, you do, too. How are things?”

“Things are good,” he says, trying not to cringe at how awkward this whole thing felt. He shouldn't have come, but how was he going to say no to the girl he loved and his own brother? “I’m seeing someone, actually,” he hears himself say, surprised by the lie he didn’t know was coming.

“Really?” her eyes light up. “Jack, that’s great. Quinn didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s still new. I haven’t really said anything about it to Quinn yet. I don’t want to jinx it, you know?”

“I get it,” she nods, a smile still lighting up her face. “I’m so happy for you.”

She pulls him in for a hug, Jack keeping one of his hands in his pants pocket. He knew himself too well; if he hugged her too tight, he wouldn’t want to let go.

He hated how corny and stupid he felt. She is his older brother's fiance. He had to forget about her in that way.

“Hey,” Quinn joins them, pulling Jack in for a hug. “Sorry to interrupt, but Car, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Go, go, I need to find my way to a drink anyway,” Jack waves them off.

Carson takes Quinn’s hand, turning to be led off somewhere by Quinn. She turns over her shoulder, smiling at Jack, as he watched the two of them walk off. She turns away, Jack staring up at the ceiling, not wanting to watch her walk away.

___________________________

The four of them get to a restaurant Quinn had taken his brothers to before, despite the fact that Jack couldn’t remember the name for the life of him.

Jack sets his phone on the table, the rest of them doing the same.

As they order, Jack’s phone lights up with a text from Morgan: ‘When do you come home? I miss you.’

#Jack Hughes #Quinn Hughes #Luke Hughes #New Jersey Devils #Devils #Vancouver Canucks #Canucks #Jack Hughes fic #Jack Hughes x OC #Quinn Hughes fic #Quinn Hughes x OC

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 1 month

Text

broken trust. [part 5] l Joel Miller

Summary: you used to be very close, but he broke your heart, now your paths have crossed again

Warnings: +18, angst, swearing, mentioning about sex, violence, blood, crying, guns

A/N: this part is finished this way and not otherwise, because I'm preparing an epilogue. I have to! this part seemed too long to me. I hope you will spend a few nice minutes reading my scribbles. a few people mentioned tagging - @vickie5446 @dreamtofus @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa 🖤

[PART 3]

A murmur went through the hall and people stared at Tommy uneasily. This wasn't good news. When all the patrols returned to Jackson, one group didn’t bring you good information..

"It's not a big group." Tommy continued ignoring the quiet discussions. "Four, maybe five men. They're armed. Michael and Alex have been watching them for a while."

"They don't seem friendly, dude." Michael, the man with the longer gray beard shook his head. "I think it's the ones from the group we ran into a while ago."

Tommy looked at Joel standing nearby.

"He means the ones you and Ellie met a while ago." He explained. "Y/N, you were very lucky you ran into each other back then."

You threw a quick glance at Joel. He must have been thinking the same thing you were. You were very lucky.

"We need to get our car back before they get to it. I know you're fresh off patrol, I understand if any of you want to back out." the men immediately gave their consent to leave Jackson again "Alright then. We'll meet at the main gate in an hour. Check the weapons. If we succeed, it'll be a quick thing."

People started to leave and only a few, like you, remained in the pub. You had nowhere to go, except to just glance at your empty apartment, so you stayed to drink some warm coffee and rest.

"You were very lucky." Tommy approached you "When you found Joel and Ellie."

"Yeah, I guess." you replied, turning the warm mug over in your hands "One of them gave me a hard time anyway. I don't know how I couldn’t have guessed that there might be more of them."

"You couldn't have helped it." the man sighed "Besides, you found Joel, and for that I will always be grateful." he looked towards his brother, who was sipping whiskey at a long bar "How did the patrol go? Do you get along?"

"It's complicated." you replied, forcing a smile.

"My brother can be complicated." Tommy looked at you carefully after a moment. "Y/N, are you sure you want to come with us? You can stay, no one will hold it against you. You look tired."

"It's fine. I want to go. After all, it was our car."

Tommy nodded and patted you on the shoulder, then went to the next group of men.

Despite trying to smile, you felt every muscle in your body. The patrol had worn you out not only physically.

On the way back, you and Joel barely spoke. You felt that some chapter had ended between you, but you weren't sure what awaited you next. However, you didn't feel as many bad emotions as before. All the anger and sadness had spilled out on Joel in that forest, and he accepted it, feeling that he deserved it all.

A familiar touch on your back brought your thoughts back to Jackson. Joel stood by you as if unsure that what he was doing was the right thing by approaching you at all.

"It's time," he said calmly. "If you wanted to stay..."

"No, I'm ready." You finished your cold coffee and quickly stood up. "And you? Are you feeling okay?"

He nodded, but a faint smile appeared on his lips. Something had changed between you.

It was already dusk and it had gotten really cold. You were walking through the forest, divided into smaller groups. A few people had horses. You, however, felt more confident on your own feet. Tommy and Joel, and a few other riders weren’t far from you. Everything was going well. You walked between trees more carefully and slowly approached the place where you had left your car.

"I feel safer knowing that there are guards left in Jackson too." the man walking near you muttered.

In your mind, you agreed with him. You couldn't leave Jackson without protection. Everyone, however, was counting on you to return quickly and without any major problems.

You heard a strange crack behind you and turned around, aiming your gun.

"Ellie?!" you hissed, noticing a familiar face in the increasingly dim light. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I'm going with you." the girl replied, pulling her gun out of her belt.

"Joel knows?" you asked, but you already knew the answer. "Of course not! Ellie! He'll kill you and then me! Go back to Jackson!"

"Y/N, we're so far away that it would be stupid to send me there alone." the girl noticed, smiling slyly. "I'll stay with you. I'm safe here, with you."

You shook your head in disbelief. You knew Ellie was right. You couldn't let her go to the city alone.

"You're going right next to me, do you understand?"

She nodded and followed you like a shadow.

Now your nerves were strained to the limit. Every sound, every clatter, made your heart beat faster. However, you calmly reached the edge of the forest and saw a car abandoned in the middle of the road.

Everything looked normal. There were no infected nearby, and the vehicle seemed untouched since your escape.

"What are we waiting for?" whispered Ellie after a few minutes when, despite everything, you didn't come out of the trees.

"We're waiting for the signal." You answered her quietly, "Look."

On the other side, someone flashed a small flashlight at you. It was Tommy signaling that the opposite side of the road was safe.

"Can we go now?" Ellie was excited.

"I think so. But..."

"The last one at the car is a stinking egg!"

You didn't have time to catch her. Your fingers only brushed her jacket when the girl ran out of the forest and headed towards the car. Your heart froze for a split second, and then you ran after her with all your might.

"Ellie! Stop!" you hissed.

But you noticed immediately that something was wrong. A strange movement on your left side, it wasn't any infected.

"Ellie!" you shouted after the girl.

That made her look over her shoulder. She slowed down, and you reached out your hand towards her, and then several things happened at once.

A loud gunshot echoed through the quiet area, you ran into Ellie and fell to the ground with her, hiding her under your body, and then you heard the bang of more gunshots.

You tried not to move, afraid that whatever you did would lead to the girl getting hurt. You wouldn't forgive yourself for that, and you couldn't look Joel in the face.

You heard the pounding of hooves, screams, and more gunshots. Tommy's distinct voice, calling out to everyone. After a few minutes, everything seemed to quiet down.

You slid off Ellie and rolled onto your back, exhausted. The girl stood up and that's when you noticed it. Her pale face was terrified and her hands...

"Ellie! Is that blood?" you gasped out "Are you hurt?!"

The girl shook her head and her lips barely moved.

"Y/N... That's not my blood." she whispered.

You didn't understand her words at first. Not her blood? Then whose blood was it?

And then you understood. You looked at your side where a dark stain was growing with every passing moment.

"Shit!"

The adrenaline in your blood effectively minimized the feeling of pain, but when you realized what had happened, everything was more intense.

"We have to stop the bleeding!" the girl whispered. "Like Doc said! We have to put pressure on it!"

When she put her hands on your side you writhed in pain, moaning.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N! I'm so sorry!" Ellie whimpered "Joel! Joel!"

But it wasn't Joel who heard her voice.

"It was worth waiting for you." a male voice boomed from behind the car "I knew someone would come for that car! Now they'll have to talk to me if they want you alive."

The man was pointing a gun at you. He was tall and bulky, he must have been hiding in the car so neither of you saw him. You quickly grabbed Ellie's arm to hide her behind you.

The man's eyes wandered from Ellie to you. He was desperate, and you couldn't do anything being wounded. You lost your gun the moment you threw yourself at Ellie, and she had your blood on her hands.

"Listen, this won't do you any good..." you started slowly, trying to calm him down and buy some time "Our group is bigger..."

"Shut up, bitch!" the gun aimed at you "If they want to get their ladies, they'll have to fucking talk to me!"

It was a second before a dark silhouette appeared behind him, in an instant the man hit his head on the hood of the car, and then again and again. The gun fell from his hand, and Ellie quickly ran up to pick it up from the asphalt.

The man's bloody face didn't even flinch as he fell to the ground.

"Joel!" Ellie squealed at the sight of him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" he growled angrily, but he noticed the traces of blood on her hands and face. "Did you..."

"Not me!" she interrupted quickly.

When his gaze fell on you, Joel could have sworn his heart had stopped beating.

"Joel..."

That was all you could stutter as he ran up to you. You hissed in pain as he moved your hands away, touching the still bleeding wound. You saw the fear in his eyes, but his decisions were quick and precise.

He picked you up and headed towards the car. Ellie quickly opened the door for him and put you inside, then she sat in the back.

"Joel? What happened?" Tommy rode up to the car on his horse, looking around nervously. "Is that Y/N?!"

"He shot her!" Joel growled, reaching under the keys lying in the glove compartment and turning on the engine.

"Take her to Jackson! We'll take care of the rest!"

The car started off with a screech. Ellie dug out the first aid kit from under the seat and pulled out a bandage, the same one you gave Joel a while ago. She leaned over, pressing it against your side, you groaned loudly in pain.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" she stuttered quickly, but didn't stop pressing.

"What the fuck were you doing there?!" Joel snapped, throwing a quick look at you. "You were supposed to stay in Jackson!"

"Leave it." you groaned. "She's fine..."

"Yeah, but you're pouring blood on the passenger seat!"

The car jumped on the bumps in the road and your scream of pain filled the interior. Joel didn't say a word, focusing on the road. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that he was surprised it hadn't broken yet.

When he saw the gates of the town, he blinked his lights a few times and the doors opened, letting him inside so that he didn't even have to slow down much. The car stopped only in front of the clinic.

"Y/N?"

"I'm fine." you replied, although your eyes closed every now and then.

Doc was surprised when the clinic doors opened with a bang and Joel stood there with you helpless in his arms.

"Help her."

That was all he could say. Doc pointed to the bed, then quickly rolled up your shirt. You groaned and writhed in pain. His fingers touched your bleeding wound, trying to determine its size.

"I think it missed the most important organs." Doc muttered after a moment. "But I'll have to open it and pull the bullet out."

The door opened again and Ellie went inside. The sight must have been terrible, because the girl's face was pale as snow and she barely managed to mumble:

"Is she going to be okay?"

"Run for Mrs. Waltz!" Doc ordered her quickly. "I need help!"

The girl nodded and quickly ran out of the building. Doc went to the cabinet, starting to prepare the tools for the surgery.

"Joel..."

Your voice was weak, but he reacted instantly. He grabbed your blood-stained hand, and with the other he stroked your hair.

"It's okay, baby. You're safe." He said, feeling something stab painfully into his heart, and his mind screaming that he was lying to himself "I know it hurts. But it's gonna be okay, Doc will help you."

"I'm not scared, Joel..." your voice was barely audible. "I'm with you, I'm not scared..."

When you closed your eyes, time stopped.

The sink was full of red-tinged water. He stared at it as if hypnotized. The steamy bathroom was silent and the silence was in his head too. He just stared at something that used to be a part of you.

If someone ever asked him what happened after Doc made the decision to operate, Joel wouldn't be able to recall that moment. Everything was like a fog.

He knew he was sitting in the waiting room completely frozen, staring at his bloody hands. He didn't notice Ellie sitting on the other side of the room with her legs pulled up on the chair, as quiet as ever.

He didn't remember Tommy, who had appeared out of breath with the information that only the man Joel wanted to beat had survived.

He just sat there feeling that if he heard bad news, what was left of his heart would shatter into a thousand pieces.

After more than an hour, Doc appeared. His apron was covered in your blood too. He spoke strange words, Joel wasn't sure if he even understood them.

"Is she alive?" he asked finally.

"Yes, she is." Doc nodded. "Her body is very weak, but she is alive. You brought her in at the last moment, Joel. You saved her."

But he didn't feel it. He saw you through the open door, lying unconscious in the bed, and tears came to his eyes. Doc patted him on the shoulder, suggesting that he go home, wash up, and rest. There was nothing more he could do for you.

Joel put on clean clothes and then simply fell onto the bed and fell asleep in an instant. He had no dreams. He didn't even know how long he had been asleep. The weak, slowly setting sun filled his bedroom and for a moment he even forgot about everything that had happened the previous night. He came to the conclusion that he must have slept the whole day.

Ellie didn't wake him up, though. She left him a meal on the table before she left the house.

He found her some time later in the clinic.

"Hi." she said quietly, dipped a cloth in a bowl of water..

"What are you doing?" he asked, approaching the bed.

"I couldn't look at how dirty she was." the girl replied, wiping your hands with the cloth. "Doc said she had a good night. He gave her antibiotics just in case. But he thinks she'll be okay."

Joel nodded. It all seemed simply unreal to him. He guessed that Ellie felt guilty. If it weren't for her reckless behavior, you wouldn't be lying unconscious now. So she did what she could. He noticed a small bouquet of the last wildflowers on the table, she had to pick them for you.

"Joel, I didn't want her to get hurt..." the girl's voice was trembling. "I was stupid, I know that. Y/N just wanted to stop me. She didn't want anything to happen to me..."

"Yeah, I know that." he replied, even though he wanted to spill everything that was on his mind at that moment to Ellie "She'll feel better soon, you'll see."

The girl nodded and rubbed her reddened eyes with her hand.

"Go get some rest." He mumbled, approaching her and placing his hand on her shoulder. "I'll finish this for you."

She nodded again. She squeezed your hand one more time and left, leaving him alone.

Joel sat down in her place, soaked a cloth in warm water and looked at your face. You looked like you were sleeping, and in reality, you must have been. The medication Doc gave you must have been pretty strong.

"Hi." He greeted you quietly and reached for your hand.

It was a wonderful feeling to feel your warm skin in his hand. He kissed the back of it. A sense of guilt grew in his heart. He wanted to protect you from all the evil in the world so much, and now you were lying unconscious when they had barely torn you from the clutches of death.

He felt guilty for everything and what had led to this situation. When he lied to you the first time and when he had tried so clumsily to get you back when you were on edge not knowing what to do. All his actions and decisions had led to this. He was devastated, tired and didn't know what to do next.

He adored you like this and in such moments. Totally drunk on him. Your body was subservient to his pressure and touch. His cock buried deep inside you, sweet moans leaving your lips with every exhale.

Your fingers intertwined above your head, his face hidden close to your neck. You felt his breath on your skin, so hot that it almost burned you.

"I'm so close..." you moaned, feeling his every thrust clearly "Joel, please..."

"What are you asking for, love? Tell me..."

His voice was so quiet and calm. He had been fucking you for a long time, he had given himself time to play with you, like a predator with its prey. You had already come twice and your body was sensitive to his every move and touch.

"Let me... I can't take it anymore, I want to come..." you replied, feeling his lips gently sucking the skin on your neck "You're torturing me."

"Me?" he laughed quietly "Oh, honey... I guess you didn't see yourself. So beautiful, and just mine..."

"Too much whiskey, Joel!" you laughed "A little more and I'll think you've fallen in love with me!"

Your gazes met. His beautiful brown eyes stared at you as if he wanted to tell you something. But his lips refused to obey him. Or maybe you didn't want to hear it? Such things were not reasonable in QZ.

Of course, there were families in Boston, but it wasn't the same as many years ago. There was little laughter on the streets or couples walking hand in hand. Feelings were carefully hidden within the four walls of rooms. They were safe there.

So it was better not to name anything. Live day by day, enjoy what you had. You knew that you were close to him, that he wanted to protect you and take care of you. You did the same to him. It felt good, it felt safe.

His hips moved, and his cock hit exactly the place you needed. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, sighing quietly.

"Joel?"

"Yeah, baby..."

"Joel?" your voice was so quiet and calm "Joel..."

Something strange was happening. He could feel it on himself. A strange feeling like something was moving through his hair, slowly and gently. Joel opened his sleepy eyes.

"Hi."

Your voice was weak and barely audible, but it was yours. He could see your lips moving, familiar eyes looking at him with concern. It was your hand stroking his hair.

"Hi, baby." he replied, lifting his head from his arms that were lying on your bed. "I must have fallen asleep."

"I should say your snoring woke me up."

"How are you feeling?" Joel took your hand tenderly and kissed it. "I'll call Doc."

"I’m fine. How's Ellie?"

"She's okay, although she was worried about you. I had to throw her out of here because she would have been sitting here all day."

"Oh, I see." you smiled weakly. "And no one told you to leave?"

"They wouldn't have made it."

"Mhm. Joel? Thank you." You saw him frown in surprise "Thank you. I'm alive thanks to you."

"Don't say that." He shook his head "You would have survived, you're strong. The strongest person I know."

"Oh, yeah!" You laughed quietly "I would have crawled to the car and operated on myself with a pocket knife." You squeezed his hand tighter "I really thank you, Joel."

He smiled, his face brightening.

[epilogue]

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

117 notes · View notes

sunshine-daisies-library · 9 months

Text

staged romance | luke hemmings x actress!reader

summary: when you get the role of a lifetime, luke struggles to support you when he finds out who your scripted love interest is

word count: 10.8k

warnings: misogyny, arguments, drinking, jealousy, swearing, mentions of cheating, angst

author’s note: the title of the movie/book and the show were smth i made up on the fly so it’s not to be affiliated w other books/movies that are called that lol, it’s all a coincidence. this is also not proofread!

second author's note: the last bit was rushed in the end but let me be clear! my intent was to portray a loving realistic relationship with healthy communication of feelings and borders. of course, things like that are tough to convey in a one-shot alone. talks of jealousy and cheating is heavily mentioned throughout the text, but it is not my intent to make luke appear toxic or y/n seem unfaithful. the two are in a healthy relationship that gets plagued by jealousy, insecurities, and stupid social media! i, in no way, shape, or form, condone toxic relationships and try my best to let that show in my writing. please consult a trusted loved one if you are experiencing a toxic relationship. i love yall and hope the best!

happy reading lovelies <3

“I’m sure you boys are incredibly busy now more than ever,” the interviewer said, referring to the band’s many new surprises in store. “I can’t help but wonder what you guys are most excited about.”

Luke was nodding along to the woman, barely paying attention and silently hoping for the interview to end faster. Ashton had always teased Luke for having a blank stare during these interviews and the fans have caught on, too, but he couldn’t help being bored talking about the same things over and over again.

“So busy,” Michael agreed, taking the reins on the question. “We’ve got new music coming out, we’ve been working nonstop to release them and film music videos, too. Not to mention our tour coming up in a couple of months. But to speak for the boys, I think we’re all pretty excited to have our music featured in a movie.”

Ashton was quick to chime in. “Yeah, we’ve worked real hard on this one, we were in the studio for hours trying to perfect it and we hope we did the movie justice.”

The interviewer shifted through her binder of notes and questions. “It’s safe to say everyone is stoked to hear it in theaters,” she concluded. “But the question that’s been on everyone’s minds is, Luke, how do you feel about writing a song for a movie your girlfriend is the face of? Could you walk us through that process?”

Calum quietly nudged Luke in the side, bringing his attention to the woman sitting before them. “Oh yeah,” Luke coughed, readjusting his posture in his chair. “I’m super excited to help bring this story to life, it’s been a real journey to go through the entire process of it all. I’m especially proud of y/n for getting the lead role, it’s been a dream of hers to get this far and I’m so lucky to have her in my life and watch her grow as an actress.”

“Aw,” Ashton leaned into his mic, making the boys laugh. “So cute.”

“Very cute,” Luke retorted with a small smile. “She’s great and definitely deserves this role; she’s worked so hard on it and it really shows on the screen. As for the music, I agree with Ash when he said we worked our asses off on it. y/n definitely put in a lot of input on this one, not actually, but she was a great inspiration throughout the writing and producing process.”

Michael grinned at his friend, picking up his mic. “He’s downplaying it,” he quipped. “When the producer reached out to us to write something up for the movie, Luke was really into it. I mean reading through the tidbit that the producer sent us, rereading the book the movie was based on, all of it. Out of the four of us, Luke was really the one who took the wheel on this project and y/n was a big part of the reason why.”

Luke turned red at Michael’s explanation, but it was true. He was ecstatic to hear they wanted 5 Seconds of Summer to add to their soundtrack, and he was even more excited to hear it was for the very movie you just received the lead role for. You both found out the news on the same day and were over the moon excited.

“I got the part!” you yelled, running down the hall to Luke’s office with Petunia following close behind you. “Babe! I got the part-”

Luke swung the door open, a look of disbelief on his face. “They want us to write a song for the movie,” he announced.

Your eyes were wide at his news. In an instant, you jumped into his arms and he caught you, spinning you around as you both let out shouts of joy. Luke peppered kisses down your face and neck, anywhere he could reach, in pride.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he told you earnestly. “I’m so so proud of you. You earned this!”

“We earned this,” you corrected him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling into a kiss.

“Guilty,” Luke sheepishly admitted to the interviewer. “I love my girl, what can I say?”

The woman let out a chuckle before getting back into the interview. “All the fans are happy to hear that,” she told him. “Last question and it’s for Luke again; so Michael said that you read the book for “What Lies Between Us,” and so you probably know that there are a couple explicit scenes in there, particularly between the lead and her love interest, played by Harry Styles. We all are very aware of your past with One Direction, having toured with them and gaining your fame through the tours. How do you feel about your girlfriend and friend coming together for these intimate scenes?”

The boys “oohed” immaturely as Luke blushed, shaking his head. You had already told him there would be scenes like that in the movie, not because he was jealous or would prevent you from doing them, but just to be open with him. After a discussion, the both of you were on the same page about the scenes, agreeing that it’s just work and holds no value offset.

“Yeah, n/n told me about them,” Luke chuckled, taking a sip of water. “And I don’t have anything to say about them. y/n is a great actress and so is Harry. They’re respectable workers and take their job seriously. I trust them both, not that that matters.”

“Well said,” the interviewer applauded. “So even beyond the explicit scenes, do you mind that they will be portraying lovers throughout the film?”

Luke set his water on the ground. “I mean, who doesn’t love Harry Styles, he’s handsome,” he joked playfully. Luke’s crystal blue eyes stared deeply into the camera. “No, I don’t mind at all. It’s all for the movie. Styles may have my girl in the morning and afternoons, but at night she’s mine to hold to sleep.”

–

Luke entered the bedroom, sighing loudly as he hunched over to throw off his shirt. You had been laying there waiting for his arrival home, reading over your agenda and going over your lines in your pajamas under the covers. Petunia was sleeping soundly at the foot of your bed, unbothered by his usual antics.

“You’re home late,” you mused, setting your pen down. “Everything okay, bub?”

Luke moaned and groaned while kicking off his dress pants and replacing them with his more comfortable pair of sweatpants, eventually falling face down onto the bed. You giggled at his dramatics, your hand going to play through his blond curls. He relaxed at your touch as he reached for your hand and kissed it softly.

“Do you think Harry is more handsome than me?” he asked, eyes peering up at yours.

You raised your eyebrows curiously. “Do you want the answer of a 1D fan since high school or the answer of your loving girlfriend?” you joked. You and Luke both knew how deep your love for One Direction was as a teenager. He loved to tease you about your posters and t-shirts, not to mention the Harry Styles cardboard cutout you received as a birthday present one year.

Luke let out another grumble as he rolled onto his back. You scooted forward to rest his head on your lap. “Both,” he decided.

You hummed, resuming your twirling of Luke’s hair. “Well as your girlfriend,” you began. “I think you are the most handsome man to ever walk this planet.”

“And the 1D fan?” he begrudgingly asked.

You took your finger and softly traced along the bridge of his nose, trailing down to his jawline. “I think Harry Styles is very very handsome,” you answered. Watching Luke scrunch his nose in childish jealousy, you leaned in closer. “But I think the lead vocalist of the band that opened for One Direction was way better looking, sweeter, and all around so much better,” you whispered as though you were letting him in on a secret.

Luke pushed you away, sighing loudly once again as you threw your head back in laughter. “That’s the girlfriend speaking!” he whined.

“We’re one and the same, Lu,” you scolded playfully, reaching for your boyfriend. “Just because my seventeen year old self was too obsessed with Harry doesn’t mean I don’t love you and find you all the more attractive now.”

Luke let out an unconvincing huff, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What’s gotten into you, bub?” you asked, concern taking over your curiosity.

“The interview was all about you and the movie today,” he responded, tucking himself into bed and taking his spot beside you, nestled warmly in your chest.

You snorted, resting your hand back into his hair. Not only were his curls extremely soft at the touch and soothing to play with, you knew -while he would never admit it aloud- Luke loved when you played with his hair. “Didn’t realize I was a tough topic to talk about,” you jested.

Luke rolled over so he was practically laying half of his body on yours. “Nooo,” he said, voice muffled by your shirt. “You know I love to talk about you, baby. It’s just I got a question about you and Harry being love interests.”

You stiffened, clearly caught off guard. “Oh,” you could only muster out.

The musician nodded, burying himself into your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. “People can be so annoying sometimes,” he huffed in frustration. “Why would I care if my girlfriend is playing Harry Styles’ love interest? It’s not like it changes anything between us or between me and Harry.”

“It’s because people are misogynistic and gross,” you explained with an equally upset frown. “Just because I’m a woman in the film industry, they think I’m going to fling myself at any man I act with. It was the same for my last movie. I don’t understand why people are so quick to judge and point fingers.”

Luke lifted his chin and cupped your cheek affectionately. “I’m so sorry this is what you have to deal with everyday,” he apologized. “It’s bullshit, and I’ve made it crystal clear that you should be respected and valued for your work, not who you kiss or whatever on the screens.”

“You can always shut down the questions if they ask you,” you reminded him. “You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable.”

Luke bit his lip in thought, a habit you found adorable and mesmerizing to watch. “But I’d rather answer these questions and stop the narrative about actresses and showmances. It’s not fair for you guys to be scrutinized about your love lives and image while male actors never get those kinds of questions.”

Your lips trembled in awe of Luke’s small rant. You had never felt so loved and appreciated by the man like you did right now. He was ever a gentleman in a world of childish boys. “You know I love you, right?” you asked him with a tearful smile.

Luke raised his thumb to the corner of your eyes to wipe away a stray tear. “It’s the bare minimum to support my girl,” he told you. “I love you, too, baby.”

Settling back down under the covers with your lover, you rested your head on top of his. “You don’t have to worry about me and Harry,” you reassured him. “It’s strictly business between us, and he’s aware of that.”

“I’m not worried,” Luke said, his eyes fluttering closed. “Get some sleep, love. You got an early morning ahead of you.”

–

The next morning, you woke up refreshed with your boyfriend still fast asleep beside you. You smiled to yourself, taking a mental image of the singer nestled beside you. His arm was snug around your waist and his nose was buried in your chest, a normal routine you’ve found the both of you falling into when he was home from tours. What you hated the most was ending said routine when you had to wake up before him for filming.

You slowly removed his arm and slid out from under the sheets, trying to not wake him. Of course, ever the heavy sleeper, Luke remained asleep, taking one of your pillows as an adequate replacement for you. You quietly began your morning routine of brewing coffee for yourself, brushing your teeth, and styling your hair. Petunia followed behind you, being the momma’s girl she was. You let her go outside as you got started on preparing breakfast. Normally, you’d make breakfast and coffee for two but you were called for an earlier shoot, barely before sunrise, so Luke would no doubt be asleep for a while.

Finished with breakfast and giving Petunia her required pets and kisses, you went back upstairs to get dressed for the day. You thought you had been relatively quiet, but nonetheless the singer woke up to you, half dressed, on the other side of the room.

“What a sight for sore eyes,” his raspy voice praised.

You turned your head around as you slipped on a pair of pants, rolling your eyes at him. “You should be asleep,” you scolded lightly.

“And you should still be in bed with me,” he reprimanded in the same tone. Luke lazily reached across the bed for you, only short by a few inches.

“I have to be in for an early shoot,” you reminded him. “You know I’d be asleep right beside you if I had the choice.”

Luke groaned, making you laugh as you ruffled his hair similar to how you’d pet Petunia. “Why can’t you call out?” he whined like a toddler.

You kissed his forehead and set for the door. “If I did, I’d be out of a job,” you told him. “Then who would Harry kiss on camera?”

“Not funny!” Luke yelled out as you grabbed the rest of your things and left your home.

“Love you!” you shouted back, closing the door behind you.

Luke rolled over back to his side, grabbing his phone and absentmindedly scrolled through Twitter. He figured that since he was already awake, he might as well look through his notifications before formally getting up.

On Twitter, he realized in the bottom of his screen that he received thousands of tagged mentions. Curious, he clicked on the icon to see multiple photos of you and Harry outside the studio. You two were snuggled under a blanket, far too close for his liking. The smile on your face was one Luke was familiar with because it was the look you always gave him. Jealousy burned in his chest before he realized it.

outofstyles: harry styles and y/n l/n is a pair we didn’t ask for but ended up needing SEVERELY

stylesupdatesdaily: styles-l/n was NOT on my bingo card this year but i am here for it!!! #styles-l/n #wlbumovie

lukehemmingslipring: why are people shipping harry and y/n when she’s been dating luke since way before the SGFG era??? and why am i fucking with it???

y/nismother: @lukehemmingslipring don’t tell me they broke up because if they did love isn’t real :(

y/nismother: @youngblood__irwin SEND THE LINK PLEASE!!!!!

Luke frowned at the back and forth in the comments, as well as additional tweets he was tagged in regarding the Hemmings vs. Styles drama, a drama he didn’t even knew had begun. Frustration and envy brewed inside him despite his strong attempts to fight the urge. He had promised you he wouldn’t get jealous. Hell, he didn’t expect himself to feel this way. He knew you, of course. And he knew Harry very well. In his right mind, he knew there was nothing behind the photos nor your staged romance. But the damn photos and tweets and people raising the question of the stability of his relationship…anger was clouding his mind and he could barely think straight.

–

By the time you got to set, you were rushed into hair and makeup. You were used to the fast paced nature of the studio and settled into your routine with ease. As your hair designers twisted and pulled your hair back to prep for your wig, you saw a familiar figure catch your eye.

“Good morning, darlin’,” Harry greeted with a chaste kiss on your cheek. You snorted at his thick Southern accent he had been practicing all year long. While he had improved significantly, you found that his drastic change from a charming British lad to a cheeky Southern man was still too bizarre to get accustomed to.

“Hello, honey,” you said back in a Chicago accent, remembering to stay still for the dressers to apply your wig. The accent you portrayed was one that your character had, a sharp-tongued divorcee. “Didn’t expect you to come in on time.”

“Love, I’m always on time,” he chuckled, sitting beside you to allow the artists to work their magic. “You’re just cooped up in your trailer doing God knows what with that husband of yours.”

You laughed, eyes shut as your dear friend and makeup artist Alisha applied eyeshadow. “Not my husband,” you corrected him.

“Well you’ve been dating him long enough for him to might as well be,” he joked. “You seriously mean to tell me Hemmings hasn’t put a ring on your finger?” You nodded as much as you could, considering Alisha was very adamant on perfecting your concealer under your eyes. “Well, he’s got to get a move on before I make a move myself.”

The two of you laughed, knowing the banter was light and all jokes. “Careful now, sweetheart,” you said, reverting back to your Chicago accent. “Mr. Hemmings might get a little jealous.”

“Can’t have that now, can we?” he drawled, back in his Southern accent. “But you make such a pretty little wife on screen, how can I resist?”

“You tease!” you exclaimed, clutching your heart and remaining in character. “Mr. McClantire, you know I’m a faithful woman.”

Finished with his makeup, Harry stood up and readjusted his suit jacket. “Mrs. Abernathy, a lady like you should be cherished,” he explained, taking your hand and brushing his lips against his lightly. “I’ll meet you on set.”

You chuckled, taking your hand back to fix your hat your stylist had expertly pinned to your head. “I’ll see you then, Mr. McClantire.”

Leaving you be, Harry left the dressing room and gently closed the door. Alisha clicked her tongue at the British singer turned actor, shaking her head. “Always a tease, isn’t he,” she hummed, applying hair spray liberally. “He better watch himself or the media will end up in a frenzy with his flirtatious attitude.”

“He’s a sweetheart, I know he means no harm,” you defended him, sipping your tea serenely. “I do believe he’s been seeing someone though so I know there’s no weight to his words. But I do admit his habits are going to make Twitter go crazy. Luke has already gotten wind of some of the news and gossip.”

Alisha rested her hand on her hip, lips pursed in thought. “Only a matter of time before he gets jealous,” she mused playfully.

“He won’t,” you said back, not expecting Alisha’s warning.

“Oh honey,” she shook her head. “You know men, they’ll get jealous.”

–

Luke looked at the TV through the mirror reflection in his dressing room as he adjusted his dress shirt’s sleeves. Nearly a while had passed since the finish of filming and it was a matter of days until the movie’s premiere. Your schedule consisted of plenty of interviews and promo events which resulted in more drama tabloids being released about you and Harry. A scowl rested on his

and Harry on the screen talking with the host of the show. You were animatedly telling a story while Harry’s arm rested behind you. Albeit casual, Luke couldn’t help but glare at the gesture.

“If looks could kill, he’d be dead,” Ashton mused from behind the blond singer.

Luke brushed off his comment, turning away from the vanity. “I just wish he’d keep his bloody hands off her,” he muttered enviously.

Calum was distractedly scrolling through his phone on the couch, no doubt bored, waiting for their cue to get on stage. “And sit fifty miles away from her?” he suggested plainly, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Mate, they’re friends, of course they’re going to sit beside each other.”

“But with his arm around her?” Luke pressed impatiently, fighting the urge to run his fingers through his hair. You reminded him constantly before arriving at the studio to not touch his hair. You’d worked so hard to style and gel it while he focused on his makeup. The blond settled for crossing his arms on his chest and tapping his foot.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed with Luke. “He should cut it off,” he joked, dodging Luke’s swat of his hand.

Ashton patted Luke’s shoulder, setting him down on the couch. “Calm down, Luke,” he instructed. “Take some deep breaths or else you’ll pop a vein. I understand how annoying publicists have been with Harry and n/n, but you shouldn’t let them get to you.”

“How can I when they talk about my girl?” Luke seethed, his composure rigid. “They talk about her like she’s a fame chaser, going after Harry for publicity even though she’s been practically an A-lister since she was a kid.” Luke shuffled in his seat, frown permanently on his face.

“Then I hardly see how Harry’s got anything to do with it,” Calum raised an eyebrow.

Luke stood up from the couch as quickly as he had sat down. “Because he’s–he’s–” Luke stumbled over his words. Finding no reasonable excuse, he angrily kicked his foot against the table only to yelp in pain, clutching his foot and jumping up and down. “That fucking pretty boy.”

Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t really give into those gossip tablets, can you?” he genuinely asked.

Luke paused, long enough for the boys to shake their heads in disappointment. “It’s the hair!” he lamely blamed, throwing his hands in the air.

The boys’ conversation was interrupted by a set assistant, knocking on the door while opening it. “Five minutes till your performance,” the boy squeaked.

Ashton was the one to speak up for the group. “Thanks, Roberto,” he said gratefully. The moment the boy left, Ashton turned to the boys. “We’re going to discuss this more later after the show. Luke, please be civil with Harry.”

“Says the one who fucked his sis-”

“None of that now,” Ashton cut Michael off, not wanting to rehash his past. “Now let’s get on stage before they have our heads.”

The boys made their way down to the set, hiding discreetly behind the curtains. A frenzy of assistants scurried by, ensuring that the boys had their instruments and everything was perfect before they got on stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Five Seconds of Summer!”

The stage manager nodded at the cue, ushering the boys through the entrance. Luke was the first to walk through, waving at the audience and smiling at fans screaming in the back. They got settled on the side stage, instruments in tow as they turned to the host of the night.

“Thank you for having us, Jimmy,” Luke spoke into the mic, trying not to wince at the squealing girls in the crowd. His eyes were trained on you, who had stood up and clapped for the band as they came in. You were now seated, eyes sparkling in excitement.

Jimmy Fallon leaned back in his chair. “We’re glad to have you, Luke,” he responded. “Hope the dressing room wasn’t too snug for your guys?”

“Oh no Jimmy, we quite enjoyed it,” Ashton answered from behind his kit. “Reminds me of the good old days when we’d share Luke’s bedroom to change before filming our performances on YouTube.”

The crowd laughed at Ashton’s quip, Jimmy especially as he shook his head in laughter. “Good to hear,” he said. “And what do you guys have for us today?”

Michael was next to take the lead. “Well initially we thought we were going to perform our song for What Lies Between Us,” he began, followed by more applause and cheering. “But we thought it would be better to leave that for the premiere.”

“Correction: our publicist thought it would be better,” Calum joked, however there was no fabrication behind it; their publicist did think it would be best.

“So we decided to play a song from our album that’s yet to come out,” Michael finished. “Jimmy, this is “Bad Omens.””

The crowd loved the song as much as you did, finding that song to be one of your favorites of the album. Upon finishing the song, the boys set down their instruments for the backstage staff to collect and made their way to the couches.

You and Harry stood up to greet each of them, Harry with a handshake and you with a kiss on the cheek. Luke took your hand, kissing you brightly on the lips before sitting down beside you. Jimmy made a cheeky face, teasingly looking at you and your boyfriend. The crowd chuckled at his behavior and you did the same while Luke kept his hand possessively on your knee.

“Well this is a new development,” Jimmy mused, folding his hands on top of his desk.

You waved off his comment with an airy giggle. “Oh this?” you asked, gesturing between you and Luke. “Old as time.”

“We’ve actually been together for what, a little over ten years now?” Luke explained, glancing over at you with a proud smile. He relished the feeling of the crowd clapping and whooping at your relationship.

Jimmy whistled at Luke’s comment. “And no ring on the finger?” he pressed. “I mean, you’ve had to have thought about it before?”

You nodded reassuringly. “Oh a million times,” you responded. “But God knows that when you deal with one of these boys, you have to deal with all of them.” You jabbed your thumb at the three boys to the left of you, shoving their lanky arms against each other as they tried to get comfortable on their seats. Luke cleared his throat to get their attention, the boys flushed in the face as they quit their quarreling. “I’ve known them since they went on tour with One Direction and we finally ended up dating afterwards. But now, I’m ready to get married and settle down. I’m just waiting on Hemmings, here.”

Luke chuckled at your last comment, seemingly taking them lightly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his reaction, but decided not to act upon it. “She’s very much so anticipating that question, Jimmy,” he confessed. “It’s only a matter of time, but I’m in no hurry. This one, however…” he trailed off, grinning at you.

“A girl has dreams,” you defended yourself.

Jimmy snapped his fingers at your words, a thought coming back to him. “Yes, you certainly do!” he exclaimed, reaching under his desk for a frame as he changed the subject. Confusion and hurt brewed inside you, but you quickly pushed those feelings down. “y/n, you’re not a stranger to dreams, right?”

“Oh, definitely not,” you agreed with a dubious expression on your face.

“So I hope you don’t mind when I show a little memento from the past your mother sent over.”

“Oh God,” you groaned, turning to hide your face in Luke’s shoulder. “What did she send over now? I told you to lose her number, Jimmy.”

Jimmy raised his hands up in surrender. “She makes a great lunch partner,” he defended himself. “y/m/n, if you’re watching tonight, we’re still on for Tuesday?” You rolled your eyes as Harry threw his head back in laughter. “Joking, joking, not really, but-”

“Jimmy,” you said in a warning tone.

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “Anyways, your mother found a letter you wrote back when you were in middle school to the tooth fairy-”

Michael choked on his own saliva, jerking forward. “n/n, you still believed in the tooth fairy when you were in middle school-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Clifford,” you clipped back through your teeth as you smiled rigidly. You still had one last baby tooth in at the time, you still had your hopes out for the mythical creature.

Jimmy raised his hand to cut off the side chatter as he read from the framed letter. “And you, at age thirteen, had one dream that you wished the tooth fairy would grant you.”

“Dear Tooth Fairy,” he read aloud as you crumbled in embarrassment. “I have finally lost my last tooth, so I guess this will be the last letter I can send you.”

“Aww,” the boys gushed in unison, causing you to shoot them an icy glare.

“To end this amazing tooth filled saga, I have one last wish. You see, it’s been my dream to meet One Direction.”

“Jimmy!” you screamed, covering your face in humiliation as the memories started to flood in. Luke covered you in his arms as you folded over yourself, laughing along but equally curious about what was in the letter.

Jimmy, nonetheless, continued reading. “And I have a favorite singer in the band. If you could pull some strings and make Harry Styles my boyfriend, I swear to you I’ll write a letter to you everyday -even though I have no more teeth to give you- and will solemnly swear to be your best friend forever. Let him be my boyfriend, pleaseeeeee.” The audience let out a boisterous laughter as Jimmy emphasized your silly, childish writing. “Love, y/n.”

More clapping filled your ears as you raised your head to face Jimmy. In the corner of your eye, you saw Harry resting casually beside you, facing you as he leaned against the couch.

“I’m flattered,” Harry told you, an amused smile resting on his lips.

You pressed your lips in a straight line. “Thanks, Har,” you deadpanned.

He patted your shoulder in a friendly manner. “No, it’s real sweet,” he reassured you. “Truly, cute, even.”

“That’s not all we have,” Jimmy spoke up as he put away your framed letter. He waved off your groans and complaints. “It’s not bad, not bad. I’m sure you all remember the Golden Globes back in 2012 when y/n made her first appearance in the hit TV show, The Last Elites of Cardenia.”

The crowd cheered as a photo of you as a child appeared on the screen. It was a shot of you in the show, dressed up in your furs and pearls as per your character, Cecilia. The next photo was of you on the red carpet with your show family. Your braces were highly visible in your smile, making you wince at the rough photo.

“I loved that show,” Ashton sighed, full of nostalgia. “Cal, Michael, and I would binge that show every night after concerts.”

“You didn’t watch it, Luke?” Jimmy asked curiously.

Luke sheepishly shook his head. “No, I didn’t,” he answered honestly.

“I’m offended, babe,” you teased, your hand over your heart in mock offense.

Michael snorted. “It’s not like he didn’t like the show,” he told you. “He just could barely follow the storyline whenever you popped up on screen.”

The boys gave Luke playful punches as he blushed. “I-I couldn’t help it!” he exclaimed. “You were just so cute on screen, you were my celebrity crush for the longest time. I mean you were a right entitled bitch in the show but meeting you in real life, I just was-“

“So down bad,” Ashton finished for him. Luke was about to correct him but you were quick to cut him off.

“Baby,” you cooed, pinching his cheek.

Jimmy laughed along with the conversation, pointing towards the screen as he spoke. “Speaking of celebrity crushes,” he continued. “We have this old footage of you on the red carpet answering some questions.”

The day was bright as you appeared on the screen. A youthful innocence covered your entire self, from the way you gathered yourself to your voice. A woman was behind the camera, only her hand holding the microphone could be seen.

“And who might you be?” the woman asked you.

You smiled brightly. “I’m y/n!” you chirped. “y/n l/n but most people know me as Cecilia from The Last Elites of Cardenia.”

“Nice to meet you, y/n, I’m Mei,” the woman greeted, shaking your hand. “This is your first time here at the Golden Globes, how are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m sooo excited, Mei,” you answered honestly and giddily. You could hardly stand still. “My mom picked my outfit today so I’m feeling very confident and pretty!”

“And who do you want to see most today?”

You cocked your head in thought. “Harry Styles!” you exclaimed. “I heard One Direction’s going to be at the after party, so I really hope to see him. He’s my biggest celebrity crush,” you gushed unabashedly.

The clip ended and everyone turned to you, where you were frozen and wide-eyed.

“Where the hell do you find this stuff, Jimmy,” you sighed, face palming annoyedly.

“Oh, the vault, you know,” Jimmy responded cheekily. “But that leaves us wondering how you feel now, starring alongside your celebrity crush in the film “What Lies Between Us?””

You tapped your chin. Harry glanced over at you. “Be honest, darling,” he reminded you in a sing-songy voice.

“Well I can definitely say that my teenage self is absolutely losing her mind,” you answered. “It’s something out of a dream, if you think about it. I mean, I never knew I’d come far enough to star in a highly anticipated movie, nevertheless star alongside Harry. It’s a blessing, surely, but now, I think that fangirl side of me has been laid to rest.”

Jimmy turned to your boyfriend. “And what do you think, Luke?”

The musician gave the host a close lipped smile. “Whatever makes n/n happy,” he settled brusquely.

Jimmy, satisfied with his response, began asking questions for the other boys about touring and their music. You whipped your head around and raised an eyebrow at Luke for his short response, but Luke didn’t make eye contact with you. Concerned, you reached for his hand on his knee but he pulled back, folding his hands together. Never had you felt more confused and isolated than you did at that moment. You used to be able to read his mind, but now it felt like he’d closed his mind in walls you couldn’t seem to get past.

–

“What was that about?” you demanded, following closely behind Luke as you walked into your shared home.

After that awkward end to the show with Jimmy Fallon, you, Harry, and the boys went out to dinner. You thought that moment with Luke was just a one-off thing, but he remained in his rigid composure for the rest of the night. The boys would talk boisterously throughout the dinner, sharing stories of the past tours with One Direction and catching up on life afterwards. But Luke was the only one who remained silent, opting to focus on his glass of red wine he never seemed to finish. You made attempts to speak to Luke, nudging him or trying to meet his eyes from across the table but he refused to look up the entire time. Frustrated, you let it be but it was clear you were upset to the rest of the table. Harry had even pulled you aside after you all paid for your meals, asking if things were alright and if he had overstepped at all. You reassured him he did nothing wrong, it was Luke who was being childish at the moment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he brushed you off, heading upstairs to your bedroom. He removed his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his dress shirt nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t done anything wrong or pissed you off.

You entered the bedroom, heels kicked off as you crossed your arms on your chest. “Let me refresh your mind,” you spat. “You’ve been nothing but rotten towards Harry and I tonight. What’s gotten into you? I thought you said you wouldn’t get jealous-”

“And I’m not,” Luke fought back. “God, you can be so conceited sometimes, y/n.”

“So that’s what it is?” you snapped back. “I’m just being self-centered and your head isn’t stuck up your ass?”

Luke aggressively pulled his sleeves up, leaving half of his buttons undone while placing his hands on his hips. “Yes, it would appear so,” he answered shortly. “You’re overthinking what’s going on, y/n, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Do not gaslight me, Luke Hemmings,” you ordered, walking up to him to stand chest to chest. “I know your mother taught you enough for you to know that is not the way to go when arguing with me.” Luke huffed, giving in on that one statement because you were right; he did know better.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I am upset. And I have every reason to. I don’t like how close you and Harry have gotten, okay?”

Your jaw dropped in utter shock. “You mean my coworker?” you clarified sarcastically. “I’d hope I’d be close with him considering we’re playing lovers in the damn movie-”

“There you go again!” Luke’s voice boomed across the room, throwing his hands in the air. “You and Harry being lovers. Sometimes I’m led to believe it’s more than for the movie with the photos I’ve seen and the mere way you act with him.”

“Luke, I have no idea what to tell you,” you fumed. “We are acting. I have no romantic feelings for him and he has none for me. He’s seeing someone, for crying out loud! I thought you had enough trust in me to know nothing is going on between me and him.”

“I do trust you,” he argued. “But you couldn’t possibly look me dead in the eye and tell me you didn’t have romantic feelings at all during filming. You have been crushing on him for far too long for that to just go away.”

You hesitated, your face burning with frustration and humiliation. You hated to admit there was some truth to his statement. “I-I,” you stumbled over your words.

Luke’s nostrils flared as he glared at you, proving his point exactly. You threw your hands in the air. “He was a celebrity crush from when I was a teenager, Luke!” you shouted exasperatedly. “I had a little crush, that was it! And maybe it resurfaced a little at the beginning but I swear to you I don’t have those feelings anymore. It was a childish crush, Luke, you’ve got to believe me when I say that. I love you.”

Tears lined both of your eyes as you went to reach for his hand. Your thumb grazed his ring, the one you bought for him for your first anniversary. “I really don’t know,” Luke whispered, slowly pulling his hand away.

Your heart shattered at his words, falling to the ground you stood on. You had dedicated ten years of your life to this man, ten of the best years of your life to him. You grew up with him, made the best and worst mistakes of your lives, and survived all of that together. He was your person, your lover, your one being that you’d lay down your life for. Yet, the moment your relationship is tested, he falters. But you couldn’t blame him. One little crush resurfacing, and that managed to wipe out everything you ever created for yourself over the past decade.

You took a deep breath, fighting the urge to fall over and sob on the ground. Your hands opened and closed into fists as you took a step back. “Fine,” you said, shaky and uncertain. Luke almost caved at your voice, the mere way you spoke. You had always carried yourself with dignity and confidence. He was the one who stripped you of that, and you were just a shell of who you once were.

“I think I’m going to spend the night at Crys’s,” you told him, walking over to your closet and pulling out a bag. “It’s clear we both need space and time apart.”

Luke shook his head, taking your wrist. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Your premiere is in two days, you’re going to be worn out and exhausted if you don’t sleep right. I’ll head over to Cal’s and you can stay here.”

Taking back your wrist, you continued to pack your things. “It’s your house, Luke,” you reminded him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay spending the night with Crys and Michael.”

“Don’t bother them,” Luke insisted. “They’ve been busy building the nursery for when they plan on trying for a baby and-”

You winced at his words. He didn’t understand how much he hurt you with them, where he was only looking out for their sake and not yours. Realizing the deeper meaning behind his words, Luke tried to correct himself when you just raised your hand to stop him. He had said enough for the night, and so had you.

“I’ll find a hotel,” you finally decided. Luke was silent, heart aching and yearning for you, but too frozen to speak up and do anything about it. Finished packing, you zipped up your bag and turned back to him. “Goodnight, Lukey,” you said, kissing him on the cheek before leaving the house entirely.

Driving down the streets of L.A. you managed to find a small hotel on the side of the road that looked safe enough to spend the night. Carrying your bag, you pathetically entered the hotel in your dress from the late night show and a pair of flat shoes you slipped on before leaving. Your hair was no doubt a mess, no longer styled to perfection as Alisha once had it. Your mascara was probably running down your face, too. God, you looked like a mess in front of this poor worker.

The boy lifted his eyes to meet yours, slowly recognizing who you were but deciding to not speak on it. You looked like you had gone through enough tonight. “Room for one?” he asked you. You wordlessly nodded, rummaging through your bag to find your wallet for ID and your card. Handing them to the worker, you kept your gaze on your bag. In the process, you found your phone and checked your notifications.

Lukey <;3: please let me know when you arrive safely

You: im here now

Lukey <;3: okay, love. use the card i gave you to pay for your room

You: no, it’s fine.

You left the conversation at that, not caring if it were dry. You were exhausted and didn’t want to fight with him anymore. You had no more fight in you to give him.

The boy behind the desk handed you back your things along with your key card for the night. “Let me know if you need anything at all to improve your stay,” he told you politely.

You fought the urge to scoff at the boy. Like you could do anything to improve your stay, tonight was hell as it is. But you reminded yourself it wasn’t his fault you were arguing with the love of your life; it was yours. Thanking him quietly, you made your way to your room and tossed your bag on the foot of your bed, tucking yourself in next, still in your evening wear. You didn’t care if you’d ruin your dress or damage your face from leaving your makeup on overnight. It was too much for you to deal with right now.

Lukey <;3: goodnight, y/n

read 2:43 am

–

The next two days were utter torture for Luke. He kept contact with you through it all, ensuring that you had eaten, slept, etc. but that was all you’d tell him. Luke couldn’t decide whether or not he was grateful for your shortness with your words, if it would make him cave and go to you and forget everything or make him more upset. He was grateful he had your location still on his phone, and you had his. At least he could check on you and make sure you were alright and not in any trouble.

Luke was also guilty of checking if you had gone to Harry’s house. Guilt and upset rumbled in his stomach, as he felt like he crossed a boundary and invaded your privacy. But how could he not be curious about your whereabouts when you had confessed to him you still had some feelings toward Harry? It didn’t matter that you said those feelings came and went. What would happen if you tied the knot and you changed your mind about him?

Luke had trusted you with his life. He took your word as true most of the time, but now he was unsure. He wasn’t sure where he lied with you now. He loved you still, yes, and he’d still sacrifice his own happiness for you. Perhaps he blew things over proportion between the two of you. You swore you still loved him and no longer felt anything for Harry. But why did Luke still feel something wrong in his chest?

He still had mixed feelings about your argument on the night of your premiere. Luke was in Ashton’s living room, quietly sipping on a beer as he waited for the rest of the band and their significant others to meet them there to travel to the theater together.

Ashton slipped on his jacket, entering the room and looking over at his friend. “y/n not joining us tonight, mate?” he asked. He knew what had happened those nights ago. He was the first person Luke called the moment you left, staying on the phone with him until five in the morning. You had even called him later that day to ask for his advice. He was grateful you both thought of him as an older brother figure, and he wanted nothing more than to get you both together to talk through it.

Luke set his bottle down, not wanting to get drunk on your important night. “No,” he replied with a heaved sigh. “She texted me that she’ll get there on her own because Alisha wanted to do her hair and makeup.”

Ashton sat down beside him, patting his back. “That’s good she’s still talking to you, right?” he brought up, trying to look on the bright side.

“Only because I made her swear to keep me updated,” he grumbled. “If it weren’t for that, I think she’d block my number.”

“Now that’s not true,” Ashton told him seriously.

Luke shrugged his shoulders. “I practically told her I didn’t trust her anymore,” he said, ashamed of himself. “But it’s fair, isn’t it? I knew in my stomach that there was something going on between her and Harry.”

“But there wasn’t,” Ashton reminded him. “She said her feelings toward Harry resurfaced, but she didn’t act on them in any way.”

“But what if one day she wakes up and realizes she can do so much better than me?” Luke asked, voice cracking. He didn’t want to think about that, but that’s all his mind would conjure. “Then she’ll leave me for him and I’ll be the idiot that was strung along the whole time.”

Ashton leaned back on his sofa. “I think you owe y/n more credit than that,” he said. “She loves you, she said so herself. And if she really wanted Harry, she wouldn’t have fought for you like she did.”

“You’re right,” Luke supposed. “I just feel so guilty now.”

“You can talk to her after the premiere,” Ashton settled. “Trust me, she wants to talk to you, too.”

The two were interrupted by Ashton’s door swinging open to reveal the remaining boys and their significant others. Ready to go, Ashton and Luke joined them outside to hop into Michael’s car.

Luke got settled in the back seat, reaching for his seat belt when Crystal turned around to face him. “How are you holding up, bub?” she asked, a comforting smile on her face.

He grimaced but tilted his head in response. “Definitely could be better,” he said earnestly. “But Ash helped me through it.”

Crystal reached behind her to pat his knee soothingly. “I’m glad,” she said. “y/n’s the same. I stopped by her hotel this morning to catch up on things.”

“And she’s okay?” Luke leaned in, interested in learning anything about your whereabouts and how you’re doing.

Crystal put on the same expression as Luke. “About the same as you,” she responded. “But don’t worry, everything will work out in the end.”

Luke braved a smile. “I hope so.”

—

The carpet leading up to the theater was packed with reporters and photographers trying to get a glimpse of the actors featured in the film. The band was far behind, stuck in the traffic of people stopping them to ask a few questions.

“Boys!” a man called out. “Over here! I’m here with Vanity Fair.”

The boys shared a glance and went up to the man. “My name is Aamir and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about tonight.”

Michael stood in the front, taking Aamir’s extra microphone. “Let’s hear them!”

“This is the first time your music is being featured in a movie as big as this,” Aamir stated. “How are you all feeling?”

Calum drew in a breath, deciding to take this question. “I mean, how can we feel?” he responded. “It’s a mix of feelings, I can tell you that. I think on behalf of the band, we’re all just really nervous but excited to put out this music for the film. It’s really different from our typical kind of music, but we hope you all love it the same.”

“I’m sure we’ll all love what you have in store for us,” Aamir said confidently. “Luke, how are you feeling tonight? It’s a big moment for your girlfriend, y/n l/n, as this is her first lead role in a highly anticipated movie. Can you give us an insight on how y/n is feeling and how you both prepared for tonight?”

Luke tried to not let his rigidity and awkwardness show on camera. There was enough dubious press about the two of you after that show with Jimmy Fallon. “I’m sure she’s over the moon about tonight,” he answered, eyes flickering to the camera. “She’s been so excited for this moment and all her hard work has come down to tonight.”

“And how have you prepared together?” Aamir repeated his second question with curiosity as to why Luke didn’t answer in the first place.

Luke bit his lip, trying to answer without showing he was completely unsure. “Well-“

Cheers erupted from the crowd as a limo approached the carpet. Luke thanked God for that distraction because everyone -including himself- turned to see what the commotion was about.

You stepped outside of the car, dressed in a long white gown that resembled a wedding dress. Luke could only describe you as ethereal as you shyly waved to the photographers and interviewers. He’d never seen you so shy in public, since you’d been in front of the cameras since you were a child. Your eyes were trained on the ground, a shaky smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Reporters shouted at you, desperate to get a word or two with you. Dazed by the flashing lights and loud noises, you took a step forward to where the people were blocked by a gate. In your nervous stature, you began to tremble, hands reaching out for stability but struggling to do so. Your ankle gave way, causing you to fall to the ground. People shouted and “ooh’ed” but no one ran in to help you.

Rushing forward, Luke ran over to you and wrapped his arm securely around your waist as he guided you back up. You gasped, looking up at your savior and realizing who it was. His name was on your lips but no sound could come out; you were too shocked to say anything since you hadn’t formally spoken to him in days.

Luke gave you a reassuring smile, eyes glancing down at your lips to silently ask for permission to kiss you. You nodded, allowing him to cup the side of your face to kiss you softly. The moment your lips met his, you felt yourself get regrounded. Knowing he was by your side, you felt like yourself again: more confident.

The press ate up yours and Luke’s stunt, taking photos left and right of the two of you. You pulled away, your hand on his chest and feeling his heart beat quickly. “Thank you,” you whispered. Luke gave you a small nod but remained silent as he led you to the reporters.

A young woman caught your attention, pointing her microphone in your direction. “Are you alright, y/n?” she asked you, camera pointed at you. “I’m Irina with TMZ. We’re happy to see you tonight!”

Nerves began to creep in as you drew a blank at her question. Luke’s hand squeezed your hip comfortingly, providing you with the stability and strength you needed to get through the event. Nodding to yourself, you opened your mouth to answer.

“I’m doing great, thank you,” you answered. “Just some first premiere nerves but they never killed anyone! I’m just really grateful Luke was here to save me from that little trip there.”

Irina pointed her microphone at Luke, who was taken aback but spoke nonetheless. “Anything for my girl,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s her big night and I’m her biggest supporter. She’s my rock for concerts, I’m her rock for premieres. We have each other’s backs.”

Your eyes were stuck on Luke, mesmerized by his face and how his eyelids glistened in the light from his eyeshadow, no doubt from the palette you gifted him on his birthday last year. The corners of your lips quirked upwards, a warm and fuzzy feeling growing in your chest as you looked up at him with pride and love. You almost didn’t hear the interviewer’s final question.

“y/n, it’s been all over social media how you had a long standing crush on your co-lead, Harry Styles,” Irina stated. You felt Luke’s hand tighten around your hip without him realizing, no doubt irritated by that question. “How did it feel to kiss him and perform in intimate scenes with him?”

As you opened your mouth to respond, Luke cut in. “Respectfully,” he began. “I think y/n’s work goes far beyond who she kissed or who she did what with. She’s been in the film industry for as long as I can remember, and definitely deserves more questions that dive deeper than who she harbors romantic feelings for.”

The interviewer’s face flushed in embarrassment. “Of course,” she agreed, rushing to apologize. You simply waved her off, politely excusing both yourself and Luke out of the conversation with grace.

Luke remained by your side as you made your way through the reporters and photographers, staying silent unless asked a question. You thought he wouldn’t look at you from the way his eyes never met yours -except for when he kissed you, of course- but in fact, he had stared at you the entire time you spoke. Nothing but adoration filled his mind when he listened to you speak about the work you worked so hard to make. It made all of your past problems fade to gray, and he nearly forgot about your whole argument.

Once you entered the theater, you expected Luke to pull away to find the boys but he didn’t. You stopped in your tracks to turn to him. “You can go back to the boys now,” you whispered gently to him.

Luke was taken by surprise at your words, and hurt flashed across his face. “Do you want me to go?” he asked you.

You were quick to shake your head. “No!” you rushed. “I just thought…you know, it’s your big day, too. I figured you’d want to spend it with them.”

The blond took your hands in his and kissed them softly. “I want to be by your side through it all,” he assured you. “I haven’t seen you in days, and I don’t want a petty fight to get between us and celebrating your greatest achievement.”

Your publicity manager approached you, checking her watch every second or so anxiously. “The movie’s about to start,” she reminded you hurriedly.

You were about to tell her to give you both a few minutes, but Luke stopped you. “We can talk more later, okay?” he said. You agreed wordlessly, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips.

“Let’s go in together, babe,” you decided. Luke resumed his position beside you, entering the theater together proudly to watch the film the both of you dedicated so much time and effort into. And as Luke took your hand while you both sat in your seats, you knew that everything would be okay in the end.

–

Once the movie had ended, Harry invited you and the boys to his home for the afterparty but you politely declined, opting to spend the rest of the night with your beloved boyfriend.

Now, you and Luke took a walk around the finally quieted city, hand in hand. You were grateful you brought another pair of shoes with you because your heels were killing you, and you were more thankful for Luke who insisted on holding your strappy heels for you as you continued your walk.

“I really can’t thank you enough for saving my neck there on the carpet,” you said in a slightly teasing tone. “I would have actually melted into the floor if you didn’t come to my aid.”

“I meant what I said when I said I always had your back, y/n,” Luke replied, eyes trained on the sidewalk.

A pregnant silence followed as you made your way through the city, taking in the lights and cool summer air without any fear of paparazzi following close behind you. You found yourself nervously playing with the rings on Luke’s fingers as you tried to find the right words to say.

“I’m sorry for that night,” you began, avoiding his questioned gaze. “I should have been more open to you about how I felt from the beginning, but I really do promise that I don’t have any feelings for him. Not anymore, at least. It was a teenage dream come true, but…”

Luke raised an eyebrow at you. “But?” he pressed gently.

You stopped walking, turning to cup his cheek affectionately. “But that’s not my dream anymore,” you finished. “My dream is to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Whether or not you decide to marry me, I want you in my life for all the good, the bad, and the ugly. I’m really sorry for ever making you doubt my love for you, and I’m sorry for not being receptive to your doubts and insecurities.”

“What makes you think I don’t wanna marry you?” he asked you. “Of course I do. I want to see you walk down that aisle with a dress as giant or as small as you want, as long as you become Mrs. Hemmings at the end of it. Or if you don’t want to take my last name, that’s fine, too. I don’t care if you want a big or small wedding or a wedding at all. If you want to take that oath in the townhouse and officially be mine -and I, yours- I’m perfectly okay with that, too.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back your tears. “I was just nervous,” you confessed. “I knew you were upset by those questions about me and Harry, but I was upset, too. I just never told you how upset I was.” A stray tear trickled down your face but you stubbornly wiped it away, not wanting to cry. “We’ve been together for ten wonderful years, and all people would ask me is “when are you getting married?” “when is he going to propose?” And at first, I was fine with it. But the more people asked, the more anxious I was about the stability of our relationship.”

When Luke’s face gave away he wasn’t exactly following what you meant, you continued to explain further. “I’ve read so many tweets and articles about how undesirable I am, from the moment I turned sixteen. And the fact that you kept pushing off the idea of us getting married,” you looked away, embarrassed by your reaction to all of this. “It hurts, Lukey. And I know marriage isn’t a thing to rush into and I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want, but those drama tabloids just make me feel so insecure.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Luke frowned, pity settling in, but you waved your hand to brush it off.

“It’s stupid,” you decided, wiping away the extra tears that managed to escape. “I’ve always told you not to give into the press and social media, yet here I am doing that very thing. L-let’s focus on you, Luke.”

“We can talk about my stupid jealousy another time,” Luke fought to stay on topic. “y/n, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this? If I had known, I would have said something-”

“But that’s not how proposals work, Lukey!” you exclaimed. “It’s not something you do out of pity. It’s a decision you make when you’re sure and you’re not! That’s okay, I don’t want you to make a decision you’ll only end up regretting just to please me in the present.”

Luke took your hand in his, forcing you to look up at him. “Why do you think I’d ever regret marrying you?” he questioned. “y/n, you’re the love of my life. You’re definitely not my first girlfriend but I intend for you to be my last. You’re it for me, n/n. I do want to marry you and I intended to propose, I just wanted to find the right time and place for it. As for my behavior the past few months,” he sighed. “It wasn’t right of me to villainize you and Harry. You’re friends and coworkers, of course you’re going to get close. And I knew that the press would twist the narrative to make it seem like you guys were more than friends. I should have felt secure enough in our relationship to trust you completely, but I was also too insecure to let that be.

“Harry’s great. He’s talented, a better singer than I’ll ever be, and kind hearted. I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, and seeing him with you made me feel self-conscious all over again. And all those news posts about him being your celebrity crush as a child made me angrier. I know it’s not something I should have blamed you for, I was just so jealous I could barely think straight.”

Luke stepped closer to you, his breath grazing your face. “I’m sorry for being jealous and ever doubting you,” he said honestly. “I should have trusted you when you said you no longer felt anything for him.”

“I’m sorry for brushing you off and not listening,” you said in response. “I promise you, Luke, you’re it for me, too.”

Luke choked back a laugh of disbelief, grateful for this whole ordeal getting resolved as he bent down to kiss you deeply. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer to finally taste him, smell him, feel him again.

Once you pulled back for air, you crinkled your nose as you smiled. “Does this mean we’re engaged?” you asked curiously, eyes sparkling with happiness and love. “You know, since we’re in agreement and everything.”

“I would have preferred to get down on one knee and that whole spiel,” Luke sighed dramatically. “But yes, I do suppose we are engaged.”

Grinning, you pulled him back down for another kiss. “We can get to that sappy stuff later,” you insisted. “I just want to spend the rest of my night with my husband-to-be.”

thank you so much for reading! please like and reblog if you enjoyed! <3

#5sos #5sos fanfiction #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos angst #5sos fluff #5sos fic #luke hemmings #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings angst #luke hemmings fluff #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings fanfiction #luke hemmings fic

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luvv-nikki · 10 months

Text

Stay with me

Pairing: College!Minho X Fem!Reader (the rest of skz is also mentioned)

Genre: Fluff, a lil angst

WC: 2463

Warnings: Cussing (only like twice), Sweet Minho, mentions of a break up, insecurity, crying, kissing, super sweet and cheesy relationship, mentions of drinking the reader and Minho are already best friends ^^ (I think that’s it)

Summary: Your bestfriend comforts you after a breakup and ends up kissing you leaving you confused

A/N: random brain thought idk how I feel about this though…

You used your spare key to open the door to your best friend's apartment, locking it behind you. You slowly trudged your way to his room, knocking on the door. “Come in.” You heard on the other side of the door and opened it without hesitation. You saw the confusion on Minho’s face as you walked in. “What’re you-“

Before he could finish his sentence, you broke down into tears. He immediately rushed over to you, holding you steady as you hunched over, slowly lowering you to the floor. Minho wasn’t a man of many words, and he knew you were going to tell him anyway, so he didn’t say anything; he just held you close in his embrace, which is all you wanted.

After rocking you back and forth for a little, he picked you up with ease, carrying you bridal style to his bed. He gently put you down, tucking you in and slowly wiping the tears from your face, but it didn’t matter because you were ugly crying, so the tears just came right back. “Stay here," he said before walking out of the room.

You heard parts of the conversation as Minho called Chris. He explained that he was busy and that the boys would have to wait a little later to come over. You then heard commotion in the kitchen before he came back into the room, closing the door behind him. He placed a glass of water on the nightstand next to you before getting in the bed next to you.

You took a sip of the water before putting it back and cuddling up to Minho. It wasn’t weird since you had done it multiple times before. He was your best friend after all. He put your head on his chest, softly caressing your shoulder. It was almost as if it was on cue as you started talking.

“Michael left me.” You choked out through your sobs, and Minho’s face immediately dropped as you rambled to him. “He said Rachel was better, and I just don’t understand. I did everything for him.” Minho never liked your boyfriend—well, your ex-boyfriend now—and he made it obvious with his looks alone. He held you closer, letting you cry on him.

“It’s not fair. Why can’t I be pretty or the perfect girl? I always have to be clumsy or annoying. I wish I could cook without burning the food; I wish I could clean without knocking something over; and I wish I was beautiful. I just wish I was the perfect girl.” Before you could continue, you were cut off by Minho’s lips on yours. Your body reacted before your brain, and you kissed back, letting yourself melt into the touch. He pulled away but didn’t seem bothered in the least; in fact, he didn’t even move away. His face was still inches away from his as you slightly tilted your head up, making eye contact.

“You are the perfect girl. He’s an idiot for losing you, and... you’re so beautiful it makes my head spin even while you’re crying.” He said quietly before wiping the tears from your face, except this time you had stop crying. You slowly slid out the bed and thanked him quickly before making up some stupid excuse for having to leave and rushing out of the apartment.

——

You spent the next few days ignoring Minho, though it was really hard, mostly because you guys were in the same friend group and he had been your best friend nonstop since middle school. You needed him. He was the person you talked to, ate with, did homework with and spent all of your spare time with. You stared down at your homework and realized you haven’t understood anything since high school, but it didn’t affect you until now because Minho would help you with everything, but he can’t now because you were avoiding him.

He had texted and called multiple times. The texts started with him asking if you were avoiding him, then it slowly turned to him asking how you’re handling the breakup, and then there was the “I’m sorry.” Text at 3 a.m.; eventually, he gave up. You have told the other 7 boys about the breakup, and they had been trying to convince you to come out the house, but they didn’t know about what happened between you and Minho.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. You didn’t even think twice before opening it, thinking it was your food. You were very wrong. All eight boys entered your apartment with food, games and drinks. You immediately closed the door and rushed over to Hyunjin. “What are you all doing here?” You asked frantically, looking around.

Hyunjin laughed and patted your head. “You’ve refused to come out your house, so we came to you, plus it’s Friday. Game night.” He said, gesturing over to the boys, who were setting up the board games, card games and Nintendo. You sighed, pinching your nose.

“Game night.” You repeated cursing under your breath.

“Y/N!” Felix said before hugging you from behind and lifting you off the floor, causing you to yelp. “I missed you! Let’s play Mario Kart.” He was so loud, and finally you felt the eyes you'd been avoiding landing on you. You could feel the rage radiating off of Minho from where you were standing, and it was the scariest thing you'd experienced.

Felix put you down, and you slowly backed up to your room. "Listen, I really have work to do, but you guys can," Seungmin’s hand gripped your wrist, stopping you.

“You can’t keep avoiding us. Eat something.” He said simply before leading you to the kitchen, only to be met with Jeongin, who was standing on the other side of the counter, picking up some sushi with his chopsticks and force-feeding it to you.

“We’re your friends,” he said with a fake gag before continuing. “We’re not gonna let you sulk over some idiot for the rest of your life.” He said before eating some sushi himself.

“I’m dying without the only other genius in our friend group.” Hyunjin cried dramatically, getting a synchronized “hey!” from some of the other boys.

They kept you in the kitchen and living room, forcing you to eat and talk to them no matter how hard you tried to get away, and eventually you accepted it and even had fun. Though Minho still hadn’t said a word to you, you could definitely feel him burning holes into the back of your head.

The guys decided to take a few shots, but you opted out along with Minho. Still, the boys begged to play uno. So here you were, all circled around the table, playing a heated card game. “Hey, you guys notice Y/N isn’t all cuddled up with Minho tonight.” Hyunjin teased, causing everyone’s eyes to fall to you and then to Minho, who was all the way on the other side of the table.

“Now this is the breakup of the century.” Jisung whined before letting out a very loud fake cry. You cringed, and he put his hands up in surrender. “Too early? My bad.” He said, and you gestured towards the game so they would keep playing, but the awkward tension was getting the best of you.

“I have to piss.” You said before putting your cards on the table and getting up to go to the bathroom. You could hear the boys humming and calling out as if you had just been called to the principal's office, but you didn’t think much of it. That was until you were trapped in between Minho’s arms against the wall.

“What the fuck is your problem? We’ve been friends for almost our entire lives, and now you’re gonna act like I don’t exist over a stupid kiss?” He said in a whisper, not wanting to cause a scene.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said simply while trying to duck under his arm, but he just moved it down and put his leg out further, trapping you.

“You won’t even look at me. Look at me.” He said turning your head with his other hand. “Are my feelings a joke to you?"

“What?” You question and he leaned in further his gaze enough to make you weak in the knees.

“You kissed me back, then completely shut me out. You know I like you, so what? Are you just using me for your own personal gain because you know I can’t say no to you?” He asked, and you immediately had a confused expression on your face.

“Wait back up. What do you mean I know you like me?” You asked, and he took a deep breath, his hands moving to your waist and pulling you close to him.

“Don’t play stupid. I’ve been giving you hints since high school.” He muttered, and this only confused you further.

“What? What are you talking about, Min?” You asked and watched how he was now just as shocked as you.

"Y/N, you’re the only girl I talk to and hang out with on a daily basis; I’m nice to you and only you; I do anything you ask; I always try to impress you; I always ask you to go places or do things with me; I’m always looking at you or touching you; and I even sent you flowers on Valentine’s Day, telling you how I felt, and you rejected me and started dating Michael.” He said that, and the last sentence especially made you physically recoil.

“Min… I never rejected you. Michael brought the flowers inside and said they were from him. There was no note. I had no clue you liked me, and I thought you just kissed me out of pity or the heat of the moment. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship with my feelings, so I ignored you.” You explained and watched as the rage fell from his face.

“Are you seriously that oblivious? Must I confess to you in person?” He asked with a small smile. “Alright fine. Y/N, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I never want you out of my sight. I love you, so will you stop being dense and kiss me already? I’ve already been waiting 8 years.” You didn’t hesitate, and you kissed him immediately after he finished. He smirked and kissed you back, pulling you closer.

He slightly pulled away, placing another peck on your lips. “Does this mean I can be your boyfriend?” He asked, and the way Minho worded things was always so perfect. He was so perfect.

“Only if I can be your girlfriend.” You replied, and he smiled, leaning in again.

“Sounds like a deal to me.” He whispered before kissing you again. It was like he was addicted to your lips, especially with his small praises in between kisses.

The two of you were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the presence of Changbin, Jisung and Felix until Changbin squealed like a little girl. Minho immediately let go of you, slightly embarrassed. Changbin was fake fainting and being the biggest fanboy along with Jisung as Felix apologized and tried to get them back to the living room, which didn’t help since Changbin and Jisung started screaming to the rest of the boys about Minho being a sweetheart and how “their ship has finally sailed."

The two of you walked back to the living room, all eyes on you, waiting to see if the news was true or not. Minho slowly grabbed your hand, walking over to the table that was now surrounded by cheering boys. Minho quickly got embarrassed by this and let go of your hand, reclaiming his spot while you reclaimed yours and picked back up the uno game as if nothing happened. That didn’t stop you and Minho from sharing small glances a small smile on both of your faces until one of you got nervous or one of the other boys caught Minho, and his smile would immediately drop back to his neutral face.

Eventually the boys drank themselves to sleep, and it was just you and Min. You didn’t move them much, but the two of you gave them pillows and blankets before silently agreeing to go to your room. You quietly closed the door before sitting on your bed. Minho sat at your desk, looking at the empty paper. Without a second thought, he picked up your pencil and worked through it. You didn’t even realize until he turned around and showed you the paper. “You really can't do anything without me, huh?” He said with a teasing tone, and you rolled your eyes, standing up and walking over to him.

“I didn’t need help; I just didn’t get to it yet.” You replied, causing him to laugh. “Ok seriously? You don’t have to brag about it, smartass.” You replied, snatching the paper out his hand and putting it in your bag.

“What about thank you? I don’t work for free, you know.” He said putting his hands on your waist and pulling you closer.

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“But you were going to.”

You couldn’t believe this guy’s ego. You scoffed and shook your head because, honestly, he was right, but you wouldn’t admit that. “Thank you, Minho.” You said and tried to walk away, but he pulled you down on his lap.

“You’re welcome, Kitten.” He whispered, his hands caressing your waist while your eyebrow raised slightly.

“Kitten?” You asked, and he smiled.

“What? too soon?” You shook your head and smiled.

“I like it.” You muttered, and he leaned in. You closed the gap, kissing him softly.

“Now that’s a proper thank you.” He said making you giggle. “Let’s get you to bed, hm?” He said while lifting you and carrying you over to the bed. He tucked you in before kissing your head. He went to leave, but you grabbed his hand, causing him to turn back.

“Where are you going?” You asked, and he looked confused.

“To the living room to sleep? Why? are you okay?”

“Stay with me.”

“What?”

“Stay with me.” You repeated, and he scanned your face to see any sign that you were joking. Once he realized you were serious, he came and got in the bed with you, waiting until you turned the lamp off to hold you close.

“If any of the boys see this, I’m telling them you’re holding me hostage.” He said, and you giggled again.

He kissed your shoulder, then your ear. “Goodnight Kitten.” He whispered before leaving more small kisses on your shoulders and neck.

“Goodnight Min.” You whispered back.

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