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cecilysass · 20 days

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Shine On (12/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 12: Flesh and Blood

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 23, 2015 8:35 am

Mulder comes back inside shivering violently, his hair flattened like a dog who’s been out in the rain. Scully wraps him in the same quilt she slept under on the couch and pushes a mug of coffee into his hands.

“Where have you been?” she demands, sitting down across from him at the tiny kitchen table. “You don’t even have a coat.”

Mulder still seems to be trying to stop shivering, leaning against the table on his forearms, staring at the coffee cup. Jackson can tell there is something important inside of him, something that needs to get out.

“I was looking for someone,” he says in a tremulous voice, hesitating. “Sort of.”

“Who?” Scully draws back, her eyes shrewd. “Someone outside?”

“Scully,” he says painfully. “Scully, I need to tell you something, and I’m not sure this will be easy.”

“You spoke to Rose,” Jackson interjects, unable to contain himself. “Didn’t you?”

He moves to sit down directly at Mulder’s left elbow. He finds that he wants the man to look at him, to reassure him that he understands why Jackson had to keep secrets. Mulder’s eyes lock on his. “Do you understand who she really is, Jackson?”

“Who?” Scully says sharply. “Rose? Who are you talking about?”

“I can’t shine her,” Jackson replies to Mulder. “But yeah, I do think I know who she is.”

Scully’s frustration is rapidly rising. “Someone you know, Jackson? The person who brought you here? Who are we talking about?”

There’s a rap on the door, loud and urgent, that keeps Jackson from answering her question. All three of them startle.

“Is that her?” Jackson asks Mulder in a small voice.

But he already knows that it isn’t. Mulder’s doing that thing he now associates with his biological father—face completely frozen, mind moving at dizzying speed, trying to calculate and rearrange puzzle pieces rapidly. Scully’s eyes dart anxiously from Jackson’s to Mulder’s, and the three of them sit at the table, paralyzed for a moment.

“I’m going to get up and try to see out the window,” Mulder whispers slowly. “Jackson, do you sense…?”

“No. There’s nothing to sense. Nothing to shine.”

Scully bites her lip hard in response to that. “You still have the stiletto, Mulder?”

He nods and then gives them each a reluctant glance. “I don’t suppose I could convince the two of you to go upstairs and lie low,” he says.

Jackson is surprised when Scully reaches across the table and clasps each of their hands in hers. “No,” she says firmly. “No sending people away. Let’s stay together to do this.”

Just like in The Incredibles, thinks Jackson childishly, pushing down a stab of fear. He watches Mulder nod again before crossing the room to look out the window. Except Scully isn’t Elasti-Girl and Mulder doesn’t have super strength, and Jackson’s own super powers are pretty overrated.

Scully gestures to the center of the room, motioning for him to stay low, and Jackson ducks down, again getting random images of bullets flying in her mind. Her mind also moves very fast, but its movement is different from Mulder’s. She leaps step by step, like hopping from rock to rock across a creek, or swiftly snapping together a model, or constructing a tower lightning quick, whereas Mulder’s goes everywhere at once. Jackson decides her brain’s patterns feel more familiar to him. More similar to his own, or at least how he tries to be.

It’s going to be okay, Jackson tries to reassure himself. These two aren’t superheroes, but they’re smart and brave. And they used to do this kind of thing all the time. They’ll protect me.

Scully has picked up Mulder’s other gun and is crouched near the desk, just a few feet from Jackson, her hands on the gun and her eyes on Mulder.

“Two men on the porch,” Mulder whispers, leaning carefully to see out the front window. “One of them…”

Jackson pushes the words out for Mulder in the same way he did for Rose, concentrating in his mind. You know you don’t need to say things out loud for me to hear.

Mulder’s eyes meet his across the room. A look of understanding. He presses his eyes shut.

Tell Scully they look armed. One of them is a Kurt Crawford. But he looks older than when we knew him.

“They’re armed,” Jackson whispers across the floor to Scully. “Mulder says one of them is a Kurt Crawford, but he looks older?”

He feels something like a cool blast of surprise from her, but she nods to show she’s heard.

“What do you want?” Mulder calls loudly through the door. “Why are you here?”

There’s a knock on the door again, then a pause. “We have no issue with you, Agent Mulder.” The voice through the door is low and unemotional. “Let us inside.”

“Come on now,” Mulder calls back with false jocularity. “You must know I’m not going to do that.”

“We know you have the boy.” There is a pause. Mulder doesn’t flinch in the slightest. “You can’t hide from us indefinitely. We’ll get to him eventually.”

Jackson wraps his arms around himself and hugs himself tightly, trying to hold back a jolt of terror. Mulder’s eyes pop over towards him abruptly. He must have felt Jackson’s fear.

“Why are you doing this?” Mulder asks, still staring at Jackson, and this time his voice sounds more on edge. “Why can’t you leave the boy alone?”

“Let us in, and we can discuss it.”

“Don’t,” hisses Jackson. “Don’t believe him.”

Mulder presses a finger to his lips in warning. Jackson, I would never in a thousand years. You’re okay.

“You, out there,” Mulder calls through the door. “The one who looks like a man we used to call Kurt Crawford. I met a group of hybrids like you years ago. I don’t know if you’re personally one of the men I met or not. They told me they were trying to stop what the Syndicate was doing.”

“We were,” comes the fast response. “That’s right.”

In hazy confusion Jackson sees images from this scene—Mulder and a group of identical blond men in a laboratory, looking at vials, having stiff and formal discussions—but these visuals are sketchy and incomplete. Peering across the room, he realizes why: this imagery is coming from Scully. It’s her impressions of what happened, not a true memory. She must not have actually been there, but she can imagine it. Her face is impassive, stony, but he knows she is afraid, too.

“Back then, you said you were subverting the project to protect your birth mothers,” Mulder continues. “To stop them from suffering.” Now Mulder’s eyes fall on Scully and remain on her as he talks. “So you understand what it is to want to protect your flesh and blood, don’t you? We want to protect the boy in the same way. Can’t you respect that?”

There is another pause. Some murmuring on the porch. Jackson instinctively strains to shine the two men, even knowing rationally it’s impossible.

“We understand your position,” the man��s voice replies. “But we wish you’d rethink it. We have no plans to harm you and Agent Scully. We would prefer not to.”

“Why?” Scully’s voice cuts through the living room now, crisp and angry. “You didn’t seem to mind killing the boy’s parents. You seem to intend to harm him, a child who has done nothing to you. Why turn squeamish with us?”

“You were once our allies in working against the group you call the Syndicate,” the man’s voice replies instantly. “And you and Agent Mulder are also our flesh and blood—or at least some members of our organization feel that way.”

Scully frowns in confusion, and Mulder laughs bitterly. “Then the boy is your flesh and blood, too,” he calls back, his tone sardonic. “You should want to protect him. Maybe you didn’t hear the big news back in 2000. He’s our biological son.”

“He’s more than that,” the man’s voice calls. “He’s a Syndicate project left unresolved.”

Abruptly Mulder slams his hand against the wall, rattling some framed artwork and the panes of the windows, making Jackson jump. “You’re a Syndicate project left unresolved, too,” he shouts back. “For that matter, so am I, and so is Scully. Who are you to decide which projects need to be pruned?”

“He’s dangerous. A potential liability. We regret the need to do it,” the voice calls back, stoic and unruffled.

Jackson feels sick with despair. This isn’t the plot of a movie. These men are ready to murder him, just like they murdered his parents, and for reasons no one can control. There is nothing Mulder can say to convince them.

“Let me make a deal with you,” Mulder says, his voice calming and smoothing out again, his eyes locking back on Scully. “We’re about to be back on the X-files again. We might have … resources or access that could help you or your organization. We could give you that in exchange for leaving Jackson alone. Whatever you need.”

Scully’s face turns pale, and her thoughts leapfrog around anxiously. Dangerous offer. Corrupt. Unethical. Illegal. To Mulder, she nods, her eyes hopeful.

They will do literally anything, Jackson realizes at once. Nothing is off the table. That should be a comforting thought, but it’s somehow scary, too, like they are also out of control.

“Unfortunately you don’t have anything we need,” the voice says in reply. “There is no information you have or could access that we do not already have. We have always known more than you, even back in those days when you were trying to cure your partner’s cancer, Agent Mulder.”

With a boom, the door frame slams with impact, like it is being kicked by someone very, very strong. By someone with super strength, Jackson thinks.

“Scully,” Mulder calls in panic, eyes on the straining door. “You have to get him out of here.”

Bam. The door is kicked again, and the whole side of the house shakes ominously. But the door hasn't broken yet.

“Jackson.” Scully is at his side instantly, grabbing his arm, her fear roaring inside of her like an injured animal. She drags him towards the stairs with one hand, her weapon extended in the other and he scrambles to get his feet underneath him.

“Go, Scully,” barks Mulder. “I’ll cover you.”

Jackson feels Scully pulling him at the same time he picks up scraps of her jittery thoughts and feelings. Won’t be able to cover us. Guns don’t work. He’ll die if he shoots.

With a sickening crash and tinkle of glass, the door explodes open, falling onto the floor of Mulder’s living room. Scully slows for a half second to take it in, and for the first time Jackson can actually see the two men standing in the door frame: an older version of the blond man Scully pictured before, and a younger dark-skinned man in a blue puffer coat. Both hold weapons extended in front of them.

“Stop,” Mulder demands, holding his gun on them. “Stop where you are.”

“It will just make you sick to shoot us,” the older blond man says calmly. “Possibly kill you.” He takes a step towards Jackson, and Scully starts up the stairs.

“Out of the way, Agent Scully,” he instructs loudly, aiming his gun directly at Jackson.

Scully slides her own small frame in front of Jackson. “No,” she says in a low, simple voice.

“I can shoot him through your body,” the man says with a sigh. “I would rather not.”

Mulder quickly steps between the barrel of the gun and Scully, his hands up, gun to the ceiling. “Come on,” he pleads. “Don’t do this. Let’s talk. There’s got to be something we can bargain for.”

The man purses his lips, his shoulders rising and falling. He exchanges a fast glance with the younger man next to him, who nods grimly. And Jackson sees what’s about to happen, even without being able to use his shine.

Mulder and Scully are both so brave, and they will never, ever give up on trying to protect him.

And this man is about to give up on trying not to hurt them. He’ll shoot both of them. Just like he did Jackson’s parents back in Wyoming.

Then he’s going to shoot Jackson anyway.

All that death for no reason.

Jackson knows he can’t keep standing behind Scully, using her as a shield. He’s not a little kid. He’s not William, not that baby she tried to protect all those years ago. He’s Jackson now, and he has to find some way to defend himself.

He tries to clear his head, watching the man’s gun extend. Maybe he can move something in the room to hurt the men, using telekinesis like he could when he was little. He hasn’t been as good at that lately, but he could try. He looks around desperately.

Lightning-fast, he scrambles out from behind Scully, hopping off the stairs onto the floor below. He swings his body around to concentrate all his effort on the coffee pot in the kitchen. It successfully flies through the air, past him, aimed squarely at the man extending the gun.

It doesn’t make it there.

A shot rings out, and the coffee pot instantly drops to the floor, several feet short of hitting the gunman. Did the shot hit the coffee pot? It doesn’t look shattered, only broken in a few pieces.

Jackson looks behind him to try to see what the bullet hit. But there’s no sign of a bullet hitting anywhere, only the kitchen looking just as it did before.

Suddenly he feels something strange, something warm and wet spreading over the front of Mulder’s old shirt.

He looks down to see the bright red of blood at the same time he hears Scully’s screams in his ear.

The next few seconds pass strangely.

Disconnected, but also in a kind of slow motion, like he is underwater.

He staggers to the side, watching in bewilderment as the man with the gun looks at them regretfully and walks out the door, his companion behind him. Mulder and Scully don’t pay attention to them at all.

Then, somehow, the next thing Jackson knows, Mulder’s holding him, lowering him to the ground in front of the couch, his gravelly voice shaky and desperate. “Easy, easy, you’re going to be fine.”

There is fear, fear, dread, guilt firing at him from everywhere. It turns out that’s much worse than bullets, he thinks. None of this is anything like in GTA. He wants to tell this to Mulder and Scully, but when he opens his mouth, it seems to be full of blood. It bubbles from his lips.

In the next moment, Scully is ripping apart his bloodied shirt, her eyes unnaturally bright and wild. Her hands are pressing down on his torso. Her mouth is crying out something that Jackson can no longer hear.

After that, he can no longer focus on one thing at a time. It’s all happening at once. Like Mulder’s brain come to life.

In and out. Slices of heat and cold, light and dark, cacophony and silence.

Mulder’s wearing that old shirt of his, holding a tiny baby in a blanket, leaning over to kiss Scully. Who knew he could be so happy? They're both so happy.

Darkness creeping around the edges more and more. Mulder and Scully’s sobs and cries, audio fading in and fading out. He thinks he sees the two of them clinging to one another, and he thinks: I’d have liked to learn to love them.

But the last thing he feels isn’t love. It’s grief. So, so much grief. Their grief is like a weight. And it pushes him down, down, down.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

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l1tw1ck · 2 years

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Heizou and the Dad He'd Like to Fuck

Your neighbor Heizou decides to pay you a visit

FTM!Heizou x Top!Male Reader

Warnings: Non-Con Somnophilia, Oral, Creampie, Age Gap (Reader Age Unspecified), Daddy Kink

Words: 1,323

"Oh, Heizou? What brings you here?" You open the door to your neighbor. He was wearing a very cute outfit, a loose white tank top and brown booty shorts. If you looked at him from the side, you could see a part of his tits. He apparently wasn't the type to wear bras.

"I know you're alone during the day so I wanted to give you some company! I made you something...it's my own special recipe," Heizou smiles and shows you the dish he made. "I call it The Only Truth."

"It looks great, I appreciate that you're thinking of me Heizou. Come in." You step out of the doorway, allowing Heizou to come in. You lead him to the table and go into the kitchen to look for the right utensils to eat it.

"How have you been?" You ask, sitting across from Heizou.

"I've been great! I'm actually the top of my class." Heizou grins smugly.

"Congrats!" You clap. "I can't wait til my kids get to college." You sigh happily.

"Thanks, I wonder what major they'll choose." Heizou smiles at your expression.

"This is amazing, Heizou! You're a great cook!" You praise him. "That's a good skill to have y'know? Especially when you get married, you gotta pull your weight."

"Y- yeah. Thank you.." Heizou blushes.

"I'm not the greatest cook myself, my husband is the one who cooks here. I make up for it with my job though." You laugh. You didn't work everyday but you got paid very well.

Heizou smiles.

The two of you continue talking and end up watching TV on the couch. You got yourself a few cans of beer, it was very early for you to be drinking but you were feeling stressed.

"(Name), is everything okay?" Heizou asks.

"Yeah....no..." You shook your head.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't wanna bother you with it. You're only 19, you don't wanna hear an old man like me vent."

"I do, just tell me." Heizou insists.

"Alright..." You sigh.

"Me and my husband haven't been getting along lately. We're really only together for the kids. I want a divorce but it would hurt our kids. My husband sleeps in the guest room now." You take a big sip of your drink. "I know it's bad to stay together with the kids but the both of us have traits our kids can't live without. He cooks and I work. His job doesn't pay enough to properly support the kids."

"I see.." Heizou hides a smile. "If you were to get a divorce, would you have full custody?"

"I'd want to but they'd have to eat my shitty cooking everyday." You laugh.

"I could cook for them."

"You're a college student, you should focus on that instead. Not somebody else's kids."

"If I lived here though...I live alone so it'd be nice to be around a family."

"Why would you want to?"

"Because I like you." Heizou leans towards you.

You look at him in shock. I mean, sure you had a few passing sinful thoughts about Heizou but you never wanted to indulge in them. The age gap kept you away.

"Heizou-"

"I know we haven't known each other long but I really do like you." Heizou goes in to kiss you, locking your lips together.

And maybe it was because you were feeling upset and had 2 cans of beer, but you found yourself kissing him back.

Heizou moves his hand past your thigh, palming your crotch.

"Mm- Hey-" You put your hand on his wrist.

Heizou frowns. "Why?"

"Kissing is where I draw the line, okay? You're just too young." You move his hand away.

"I'm an adult! I live alone, how am I too young?" Heizou huffs.

"Maybe in a few years but I just can't date a 19 year old. It's not right."

"How? I don't understand...This is perfectly legal!"

"It's not right to me, I'm sorry. I think you should go home." You stand up.

Heizou sighs and reluctantly leaves the house, not without secretly swiping the extra key though.

──────────────────

*Both of you are whispering i just dont wanna italicize all of it sorry*

Heizou sneaks into your house late at night, knowing you'd be there asleep. He knows all too well how illegal his entire plan is but he doesn't care. It's not like he's going to murder you.

He creeps into your room and quietly makes his way onto your bed. He thanks the Archons for your bad marriage.

He pulls down your pants and underwear, freeing your soft dick. He spits on his hand and jerks you off to full size, he was practically drooling at the sight.

He licks the tip of your dick, taking in the taste and smell of your pre cum, before he sucks you off.

You weren't too heavy of a sleeper so you eventually woke up to Heizou's head bobbing up and down on your dick.

"What the-" Your words are cut off by a low moan forcing its way out of your mouth.

Heizou reluctantly removes his mouth from your dick and looks up at you. "You're awake.."

Yeah, and incredibly horny. You had an erection that needed to be taken care of and you were so damn worked up and tired you decided to use Heizou to do it.

You pulled Heizou up and pinned him down on the bed. You took his shorts off with ease. The dim light that shone from the curtains revealed Heizou's ecstatic expression.

"Yes!" Heizou pulls his shirt off then his underwear. He was dripping wet, he even had slick on the inner part of his thighs.

"You're a whore, you know that?" You line your dick up to his hole.

"I'm a whore!" Heizou nods. "Please fuck this slutty little whore daddy!"

You were glad your kids never called you that.

"Don't you dare complain, got it?" You started to ease yourself into him.

"Mm- yes daddy~" Heizou nods, biting his lip to hold back his moans.

"Fuck- you're tight." You groan, stopping and giving Heizou time to adjust.

"Move, please."

"'S gonna hurt."

"Please daddy." Heizou pouts. "I won't complain at all."

"Fuck. Fine." You grip onto his waist, thrusting into him like there's no tomorrow. Heizou covers his mouth, his small tits moving along with your thrusts. You regretted rejecting him earlier.

"Mmph~!"

You hated that you couldn't hear his moans but there was no way in hell you were going to stop and change locations.

"You're doing so good." You groan. "Just like that, taking me so well."

Heizou bites his hand, holding back a loud moan.

"You're so much fucking better than my husband." You praise Heizou. "He rarely had sex with me. You're so perfect compared to him..."

He bites harder, he's so happy but he has to be quiet.

"I could make you into my wife. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Your hand trails up to Heizou's chest, your thumb circling his nipple.

Heizou nods his head rapidly.

"I'd fuck you all the damn time." You lean into his ear. "You'd be my little bitch."

"D- da~ daddy~" Heizou manages to speak quietly. "Cu- cu-" He covers his mouth again as he feels his orgasm quickly approaching.

"Slut." That one word is enough to have Heizou's back arching as he has the most intense orgasm he's ever had. He squirts all over the two of you.

"Fuck-" You feel your own orgasm coming after witnessing that. "I'm close."

Heizou wraps his legs around you, making sure you don't go anywhere.

"You want me to- fuck-" You couldn't hold it in anymore, you shoot your load into him.

"Mm~" Heizou removes his hands and grins.

You pull out and flip Heizou over, lifting his ass up and watching as your cum drips down onto your bed. You'll clean the sheets in the morning.

"Daddy?" Heizou looks back at you, confused.

"What? You thought that was it?" You smirk. "I'm gonna pound you til the sun comes up."

#wicks🕯works #heizou smut #heizou x male reader #genshin heizou #genshin shikanoin #shikanoin heizou #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #top male reader #male reader #wicks🕯reposts #🕯heizou #🕯️heizou #🕯️Genshin

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ikn0wtheend · 1 year

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thoroughfare - modern!ellie x reader

summary: you knew ellie once and a road trip back home together complicates things more than it should.

pairing: modern!ellie williams x reader

word count: ~4.5k

c/w: angst, fluff, mutual pining, language, implied sex, hopeful ending? loser lesbians as always.

a/n: um I do not know where this came from seeing as this is quite the diversion from ‘the record’ but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I was just listening to ethel cain’s ‘thoroughfare’ (as a girlie does) and I blacked out and apparently wrote 4k words of whatever this is. spoiler alert: they don’t even make it back home, they drive for like 5 hours. as always let me know what you think and if you’d like me to make this a series (I'm currently on the fence about it). <3

main masterlist & thoroughfare [2]

It was hot. The kind of hot that doesn’t give you a reprieve no matter how many layers you take off or how hard you fan yourself with your hand. It was sticky and miserable. You want to claw at your skin.

Sitting on the sidewalk you waited for Dina to arrive, you hadn’t really gotten the full details from her. All she had said was “meet outside your apartment” giving you a specific day at a specific time. But you couldn’t complain, you were the one that had called her in distress, forgetting about timezones when she answered the phone half-awake.

Someone eclipses the sun from their spot next to you. You turn with your hand above your brow to get a better look at them and when you do your face automatically scrunches up.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“Why the fuck are you sitting on the sidewalk?”

You stand up, brushing your pants off. “Oh fuck you, Ellie.”

“No fuck you.” She retorts.

You were going to punch her. Right here. Right on this very sidewalk. You were going to draw your fist back and punch the freckles on her left cheek off of her face. You clench your fists. “I’m not gonna stand here and argue with you.”

“You started it.”

“You’re really gonna play the blame game?”

“Who the fuck calls it a ‘blame game’?”

“Literally everybody you fuckwad.”

“So we’re calling each other names now?” She places both hands on her hips. “You’re such an asshole.”

“I see you’ve lost your touch.” You mirrored her stance. “Asshole isn’t very creative.”

“Neither is fuckwad, you fuckwad.”

You throw your hands up. “Jesus Christ, you’re impossible.”

“No you’re imposs-”

Your phone rang interrupting Ellie from finishing, what you were sure was a very clever rebuttal, Dina’s name flashing on the screen. You quickly turn your back to Ellie and answer.

“Hey-”

Dina cuts you off. “Has she shown up yet?”

“Who?”

“Ellie.”

You sucked in a breath and pinch between your eyes. “Dina, please don’t tell me my ride across the country is Ellie.” You chanced a look at the girl in question, painfully aware of the way she raised her eyebrows to remind you she could still hear you.

“Um yeah? You said you need a ride and that it was urgent and Ellie was closest.” Dina stated simply. As though she didn’t know that this was bound to create a mess, one you might not recover from.

“Okay maybe I exaggerated when I said ‘urgent’, I would’ve happily of waited for you or Jesse.” The words rush out of you, eager to get her to understand and to undo this mess.

“You were literally in tears when you called and like I said Ellie was closest. You’ll be fine.” She said flippantly. As though she wasn’t a first-hand witness to the shit-storm that had happened two years ago.

“I don’t think we share the same definition of ‘fine’, Dina.” Her name comes out with a bite.

You hear a long sigh. “Look just trust me on this. And hey maybe this will be good for the both of you, you’ll finally be able to talk about it.”

“Did it even occur to you that I left because I didn’t want to talk about it?”

“Fair point.” She concedes. “But listen I can’t come get you until next week, and that's being generous, so just suck it up and come home. I miss you.”

Fuck, you thought. You couldn’t stay here, not for another week, and hearing Dina say she missed you made you press the heel of you palm into your chest to try and calm the ache. It wasn’t the first time she had told you she missed you since you left, you heard it everytime you called. Sometimes when the time stretched thin between the two of you she would send you a text reminding you she was thinking of you. That she hadn’t forgotten.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” You can hear the concern in her voice now.

“Yeah. Thank you.” You clear your throat. “I miss you too.” You really did.

She throws out a number of goodbyes and ‘I love you’s’, words you return, before she hangs up. You take a deep breath before turning to look at Ellie again who was standing there with your bags in her arms. She looked silly, you thought. Adorable. You scowl.

“I can carry my own things you know?”

“Just get your arse across the road and into the car.”

“Sir yes sir.”

You think you hear a huff of laughter escape her, you think the heat is making you imagine things.

You’re avoiding looking at Ellie, instead you’re focused on the stretch of road laid out in front of you. The two of you had been stuck at a stand-still for the last couple of hours, neither wanting to be the one to break the silence. Maybe it had less to do with not wanting to and more to do with not knowing what to say.

You knew her once, could tell anyone that would listen how loud she liked her music, the way she took her tea. You knew which side of the bed she preferred despite her protests that it was childish to have a favourite - it was the left.

You knew her. You knew her. You knew her.

You’re not sure if you still do. Her hair is different and her shoes look new - you don’t recognise the brand of air freshener hanging from the mirror. This time when you feel an ache in your chest it feels like something akin to grief. But she still looks like your life two years ago and the thought that you might not look the same makes you slump in your chair.

It’s another silent hour before you make your first stop at the gas station, even so Ellie still gets out of the car without saying a word. You watch her for a second, eyeing the way she leaned back against the car with her arms crossed over her chest, before unbuckling your seatbelt and heading inside to grab some snacks.

You take your time browsing down the aisles, glad for the chance to stretch your legs for a bit. There was something about gas stations that made you nostalgic, something about you and Ellie at a gas station that made you nostalgic even though she was outside pumping the gas. There were too many times to count when the two of you would make your way to the closest one at all hours of the night to stockpile on chips and candy for movie nights. You would walk through every single aisle and she would follow, not once complaining over the fact that you got the same things everytime and they were two aisles over. She would hold out a hand to carry the food and you would pay, swatting at her whenever she tried to sneak her card to the cashier who looked far too tired to even act amused. Ellie would say ‘thank you’ and you would tell her that it was on her next time although you both knew that was a lie.

So you allow your mind to wander and your feet to carry you aimlessly. You rely on muscle memory to take you where you need to go because all these gas stations are built the same. You pay and try to leave the memories at the automatic doors.

Ellie is still standing outside the car when you exit with a full bag, arms still crossed. You call her name and chuck a chocolate bar at her a bit more aggressively than you originally planned, because it hits her square in the chest and falls to the ground with a sad splat. Ellie looks at you irritated.

“What the fuck?”

You wince, shoulders up by your ears. “Sorry.” You say sheepishly.

She rolls her eyes as she bends down to grab the bar off of the ground, you see the moment her harden gaze softens and as quick as it was there it was gone again. She rises slowly, flipping the bar around in her hands.

“I hope they’re still your favourite.” You wring your hands together.

She nods. “Get in the car, we gotta go.” Before you can respond she turns her back to you and retreats to the car.

You puff out your cheeks before blowing the air out and make your way back to the passenger side, dumping your bag of snacks onto the floor in front of you. You buckle your seatbelt and lift your head to see Ellie already looking at you, she raises an eyebrow in lieu of asking if you’re ready. You nod.

The two of you drive in silence for roughly another 30 minutes before the urge to speak hits you. The last time you were in this car, you and Ellie talked until you couldn’t breathe, saying whatever was on your mind and taking breaks to sing whatever song was playing. You fear that if you don’t say something now you might choke.

“Do you remember the time Dina was learning to drive and she hit the curb so hard she started crying?” You don’t know why this is the thing your brain conjured up, maybe the combination of recycled air and the smell of Ellie’s cologne was getting to you.

Ellie snorts in surprise and looks between you and road. “How could I forget. We had to drive home with a flat tire.”

You’re laughing now, “And you had to bribe her back into the car with the promise of burgers.” You throw your head back.

Ellie’s laughing now too, a far away look on her face. “Yeah I did, didn’t I? Jesus Christ I thought she was gonna stand in the middle of the street all night and someone was gonna run her over, honestly I wouldn’t of blamed them.” One of her hands was off the wheel and gesturing wildly. “I don’t even know why she was standing on the road, the car was halfway up the sidewalk she should’ve stood there.”

Your laughter tapers off but a wistful smile remains on your face, you see Ellie look at you funny out of the corner of your eye. “What?” You ask softly, your eyes now on her profile. Pretty, you think.

“Nothing. Your laugh sounds the same.”

You struggle to maintain your composure. “Is that a bad thing?”

She shakes her head. “No. Just makes me remember.”

You don’t ask what exactly it was she remembers, because you think that it doesn’t really matter. She remembers your laugh and that's enough for you. It has to be, because you know you weren’t in the position to ask for more.

Ellie hesitantly calls out your name this time.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you leave?”

The question was sobering, you were expecting it the moment you saw her yet it still made you flinch. “I couldn’t stay.” You say.

You don’t elaborate.

She furrows her brow and you have the urge to smooth it out gently with your thumb and apologise for being the reason that its there. “Why didn’t you come back?” She tries again, voice strained like it hurt her to ask. Maybe it did.

You give her a smile. “I am now aren’t I?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

Your smile falters.

“Fuck you.” You snap, smile fully gone and replaced with something harsh. You quickly try and backtrack. “I’m sorry-”

“No it’s okay.” You both know it’s not okay. “I shouldn’t of asked.”

“Ellie-”

“Do you want to listen to something?” She interjects as she reaches over you to open the glovebox and pull out a stack of CD’s with one hand, you remember buying her some of them, she plops them down in your lap. “Take your pick. That Fleetwood Mac one is in there somewhere if that’s still your thing.” It was still your thing.

You grab something different instead, something that you couldn’t immediately attach a memory to and put it in the slot and press play.

You had swapped out the CD playing twice before you finally gathered the courage to speak to Ellie again, still embarrassed you had thrown your words at her face.

“How have you been?” You wince at your own words.

She turns to look at you incredulously. “Is that really what you’re going with?”

You huff even though you knew that it was a dumb question. “Fine. Why did you say yes to driving me home?”

“Dina forced me.” She was quick with her response.

You let the words sink in before asking another question. “You still could’ve said no.” The Ellie you knew was much more stubborn than Dina, could often outlast any insisting from her.

You watch as she shuffles in her seat and sighs. “Yeah I could’ve but then she would’ve annoyed me about it for forever, so it was easier to just say yes right off the bat.”

Silence fills the air once more as you think about it. Something wasn’t right and perhaps the stifling air in the car was making you agitated or perhaps Ellie wasn’t telling you the truth. The sky was so blue out here, you think.

“Not everything has to mean something.” She blurts out in irritation.

You turn your head to find her already looking at you. “What?”

“I can tell you’re sitting there trying to pick apart what I just said.” She bites at you like you did her, eyes darting between you and the road rapidly as her knuckles grow white from where she clenches the steering wheel. “You do it so fucking much that you forget to fucking listen. Not everyone is trying to speak to you in fucking riddles you know? Maybe, just maybe, when someone tells you their favourite colour’s blue they just really fucking love the colour blue. It has nothing to do with the ocean or the sky, it’s just something that is.”

There was a version of you that she knew and probably was expecting, the same version of you that had snapped at her earlier. That was a small lapse, one apparently Ellie managed to bring out of you. But that part of you that resides somewhere in your chest wanted to yell at her, deny everything she had just said and say something back that would hurt her - hurt you too when you see the look on her face. But nowadays you’re mostly just tired. Besides, she wasn’t exactly wrong.

You click your tongue and hold her stare when she looks back at you. “You done?”

Her chest heaves. “Yes.”

“Good.” You look away. “Focus on the road.”

You hum along to the song playing over the sound of her deep breathing as she tries to calm herself down. When some time passes you open up a bag of what used to be her favourite chips, you were unsure if she still liked them, but you still offer them to her first. You hold the bag steady when she huffs and sticks a hand into the bag to grab some. You’re still mad at her and you’re sure that she’s still mad at you, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care when she continues to crunch on the chips like her life depended on them. It was all so familiar.

Your anger had settled into quiet exhaustion when Ellie pulls into a 24-hour diner. It was iffy-looking but there was something oddly charming about it. You follow her inside and take note of the outdated furniture and the weird smell permeating throughout the room, you like it, you think.

Ellie slides into a booth and sitting across from her you see her under the fluorescent lights. She looked more gaunt here, eye bags prominent. You still thought she looked good. You pretend to look at the menu when its placed in front of you by a young teenage girl, knowing what you’ll get but wanting to look busy. The waitress, Betty her name tag says, comes by with a pot of coffee in her hand, she fills up your mug first and goes to fill up Ellie’s when you quickly cover the cup with your hand. Betty’s look of initial confusion is replaced with a big grin.

“So, what can I get ya?” Her voice is chipper.

You open your mouth the speak but Ellie beats you to the punch.

“She’ll get the pancakes, extra strawberries, and I’ll just get some bacon and eggs please.” Her eyes widen. “Sorry-”

“-No, it’s okay.”

“I must be tired from driving. I wasn’t really thinking-”

“-No really it’s okay.”

The sound of both your voices overlap as Ellie tries to apologise and as you try to tell her that it’s okay. It’s okay that she still knows you. You see Betty out of the corner of your eye watching in amusement, but to be fair the diner was empty so this was probably the most entertainment the place had been in awhile.

“Is that all?” Betty asks, grin still taking over her face.

“She’ll get a diet coke.” You say nodding your head in Ellie’s direction. She looks away with rosy cheeks.

“Y’all are cute. I’ll be right back.” You watch as Betty practically skips away. This diner was oddly charming indeed.

You’re fiddling with the handle of your coffee cup when Ellie’s drink is deposited in front of her. There was an outrageous curly straw swirling from the tall glass and the sheer disbelief on Ellie’s face made you want to laugh. You lift your mug to hide your face behind it. It was decided then that you and Betty would make great friends.

“You think this is funny don’t you?” The defeat in Ellie’s face is endearing.

You take a loud sip of your coffee, eyes meeting hers over your cup. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She sighs.

“It’s a straw Ellie.” You say, unable to hide the teasing in your tone. “If you don’t want to drink from it just drink straight from the glass.”

Ellie looks you dead in the eyes when she takes her first sip and you try to look anywhere but her mouth around that damn straw. She sucks the drink up and you watch the liquid travel around in its various loop-de-loops, Ellie releases the straw between her lips with an exaggerated lip smack. “Refreshing.”

You snort. “You’re making me jealous.”

She takes the opportunity. “Of the straw?” A single eyebrow lifts in question.

“No you bitch.” You feel yourself begin to fluster. “I obviously meant of you. Because you got a cool straw and I got this chipped mug. I mean look at it-” you gesture wildly towards it, “-its bright pink and has like a million swirly things.” Swirly things? Really? Maybe Betty is better off remaining your waitress and not your best friend. It wouldn’t be too big of a loss, you didn’t know her that well anyway.

Ellie was laughing, very clearly proud of herself. “I’m just fucking with you.” She says. “You know that right?”

Right.

You avoid her eyes that were looking for yours, cheeks still warm. “Of course, no harm done.”

“Good.”

There’s a stretch of silence before you hesitantly break it. “Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

You pointedly make eye contact with her hoping that she sees if for what it is, an apology or an admission, either way you hoped she saw it. “I meant it when I said I couldn’t of stayed. Back in the car.” You hold up a hand to stop her from interrupting. “I know you’re gonna ask me why, but I don’t know if I can you reason.”

She reaches across the table to grab your hand that had abandoned your mug. She looked feral in a way, eyes wild. “Try.” She begs. “Please.”

You nod and try to clear the lump forming in your throat. “I think I always wanted to leave, think you knew that too, but I wasn’t gonna leave without you and you weren’t gonna stay without me.” Ellie nods and you continue. “And I would’ve been happy, more than happy to continuing the life that I was living with you. You were my best friend. But do you remember when we got into the argument? The one right before I left?”

You watch as Ellie looks down at your intertwined hands and gulps. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

“Yeah I remember it too.” You give her hand a squeeze. “I called you every name in the book and you told me that it was suffocating being my friend.”

She grips you tighter as though she was scared you’ll pull away. “I didn’t mean it-”

“I know.” At the time you wished you had read between the lines to find the something in her words, in the same way she had berated you over in the car. Because she did mean it when she said it and you had felt the same way back but hadn’t put it into words. The two of you were suffocated by the love you had for each other that was disguised as being merely platonic. “But Ellie, I left because I was suffocating me too.”

It seemed as though Betty had impeccable timing because there she was happy as a clam with your two plates of food. You look at Ellie looking at your hands still holding each other and you think Betty was either your saviour or your worst enemy.

“Here you two go!” You and Ellie break apart. “And here’s your extra strawberries.” Betty gives you a wink and skips back to wherever she appeared from.

Ellie looks between you and the food. You give her a smile. “Eat. I’ll still be here to talk about it later.” The words you said sounded awfully like a promise.

Betty comes back to grab your empty plates, coffee in hand as she pours you another. “Can I get you another diet coke?” She tempts.

“No I’m okay. Thank you.” Ellie says.

“No problem, holler if you need anything.” There she goes again.

Ellie calls your name this time, you leave your mug untouched. “What did you mean when you said that you were suffocating yourself too?”

“Everytime I looked at you I felt like I was dying.” It wasn’t a full answer, but you weren’t ready to give so much of yourself away. You feel the same way you did two years ago before you left. “Do you understand?” Please understand, you think.

She looks at you with something in her stare that feels holy, like a revelation. “Yeah I think I do.”

The period of time between you meeting Ellie and now is often remembered in differing stages of hurt. The hurt in your hands when you clenched your fists too tightly that time in class when you saw her staring at a girl you couldn’t even name. The hurt on your hip when the two of you got matching tattoos. The hurt in your heart when you went away and stayed away.

The waiting hurt and so did the leaving.

And the realisation that it didn’t need to hurt, especially for as long as you did, left you feeling unsettled. The hurt was familiar, almost as familiar as Ellie, and you didn’t know if you could leave it behind too. Didn’t know if you would survive it. But surviving wasn’t living and this hurt could feel different. Because maybe, finally, all this love will have a place to go.

You stand up to go pay and Ellie doesn’t try to stop you like she used to. You leave Betty a big tip and she gives you a cheesy grin in return with her thanks. Ellie is waiting by the front door with her shoulders slumped and hands fiddling when you turn around. You walk towards her.

“Let’s stop somewhere for the night, yeah?”

“Yeah-” her voice cracks and she clears her throat, “-yeah sounds good.”

When you arrive to the closest motel it wasn’t nearly half as charming as the diner you had just eaten in. There was also no Betty to greet you at the front desk, instead a ragged man who was staring a bit too hard at you told you there was only one room left available. He looked far too happy when he sensed your discomfort.

Ellie places a foot right in front of where you’re standing and steps forward, obstructing your view. “We’ll take it.” She pays this time.

The man throws the keys on top of the counter and grumbles to himself. Ellie places a hand on the small of your back when you turn to walk away and you subconsciously lean into it before you feel her nudge you along. The two of you made the walk to your room in silence but you can still feel the heat from her hand radiating up your spine. You shiver.

Ellie taps your hip, a gesture you remember, to get you to move aside. She swings both bags she was carrying on her shoulder higher so she can open the door and you’re immediately met with the sight of a bed, there was other furniture in the room but the bed really stood out.

There was one bed.

It’s okay, you thought. You had shared a bed with Ellie multiple times, you practically lived at her house that one summer and all the summers following.

“Are you coming?”

You don’t trust your words so you nod and step inside. You didn’t realise closing the door would make the room seem infinitely smaller otherwise you might’ve left it open and just dealt with whatever the consequences were. Because there was still only one bed inside of a really small room. You try and play it cool.

“You’re taking the left.” Smooth.

Ellie agrees easily. “Fine by me.”

You watch as she throws the bags onto the bed and begin rooting through hers, pulling out an old t-shirt that you recognised and a pair of sweatpants. She makes her way to the bathroom without once looking at you. You huff and grab your pyjamas too, changing into them hurriedly and lying down on the right side.

Ellie turns off the light and joins you in bed, the two of you staring at the ceiling. You hear her breathing and it sounds like your childhood. It sounds like your future too, the one you dream but never talk about.

You both lay there under the covers on your backs and you think about how close she is to you. You didn’t know how to tell her you missed her, there simply weren’t enough words in the English language to express it, so you remained quiet. You think a lifetime has past when she decides to speak. In a way it had because you feel a new you being created in this dirty motel room.

“I hate you for leaving.” Without me. You hear the unspoken words this time.

“I know.”

“I hate you.” She states, stance firm.

“No you don’t.”

“No I don’t.”

You don’t know who reaches for who first, all you know is that you turn over and there she was, consuming your senses in a way only she knows how. You think about her lips on yours and the way her tongue traces your bottom lip. You think about her hands gripping your waist tight and the way she sighs into your mouth, you think that you want her to do it again. You think that everything about this road trip was doomed from the start. You think that it’s a problem for tomorrow’s version of you to deal with.

You stop thinking when she pulls you on top of her and tugs at your shirt. You sigh into her mouth this time.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you

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fritz-federleicht · 11 months

Note

Kurt Cobain with a soulmate au with the writing on the arm thing? like he would write random lyrics on his arm not thinking about it and the reader would be confused because none of it makes sense but then it clicks like oh this guy is a musician and why does it sound like nirvana music? or maybe the reader is an artist and would draw flowers or something on their arm and Kurt would think it’s super cute? I know I'm rambling but I had this idea and I wasn’t sure how to write it XD

Dumb/ Kurt Cobain x reader

Notes: Thank you for the idea

Words: 956

You're in a small record store that is also a cafe. You stand in front of a huge shelf and browse through it, looking for new records. Soft music plays in the background to which you hum.

The bell above the door rings as it opens. You look up briefly. A lanky man with blond hair enters the store and sits down at one of the three tables in the corner. He orders a coffee from Max, the store owner and barista.

You concentrate again on the shelf in front of you.

A short time later, you stand at the counter. "Hey Max, can I have a latte? You know where to find me?"

"Hi Y/N, of course." Already he turns around and does his job.

You walk over to the tables. No one is sitting there except the blond man. He stares at his exposed arm. When he notices that someone is approaching him, he lifts his gaze.

His face is somehow familiar. You have probably seen him here before.

You sit down at the table next to him, put the records you found in front of you and look at the covers.

"Here Y/N, your latte."

"Thanks Max." You grin at him. He goes back behind the counter.

You immediately take a sip. You can't help but look to the blond.

He is writing intently on his arm. Since you sit relatively close to him you can read what he writes.

'Skin the sun, fall asleep

Wish away, the soul is cheap'

You frown. What does that mean? You look into his eyes, into those ocean blue eyes. Then you remember who he is. Kurt Cobain, the lead singer of Nirvana!

You don't want to disturb him, he deserves some peace. But you're also interested in what the lyrics mean.

"Hey sorry to bother you. I saw you writing something on your arm. What does it mean?"

"Oh, that." He points to his arm. "I don't know. It just popped into my head." He looked at you, thinking. "Do we know each other?"

You laugh. "I thought so too but no. I'm just in the store more often. We've probably seen each other here but never talked."

"Now that you mention it. You're always standing in front of all those records aren't you?"

"Yes, always looking for bargains. Mind if I join you? Only if you want to, of course." You ask shyly.

"Yeah sure. Have a seat." You settle down across from him.

"So what are you going to do with the text?" You point to his arm.

"You know I'm a singer. Do you know Nirvana?" He looks at you questioningly.

You grin. "Do I know Nirvana? Absolutely! I love them." You say. Who doesn't know Nirvana? Then you go on. "I know who you are, too. I just didn't want to be rude earlier and bother you with any questions about the band. You probably hear them way too much."

He takes a sip of his coffee and leans back in his chair, smiling. "Well, tell me your name first."

"Y/N."

Kurt straightens back up and extends his lanky hand to you. "Nice to meet you Y/N."

You take his hand. "Nice to meet you too Kurt."

"So, Y/N, I'm writing a new song." He stares thoughtfully at his arm. "But maybe I'll scrap this lyrics."

"Why? They're good. I don't understand anything, but they're really good."

He laughs. "Let's see." His blue eyes look back into yours. "You know I love writing my songs here."

"Isn't it a little risky? I mean it's a record store. Shouldn't there be Nirvana fans hanging out here all the time?"

"On the contrary. The store is so unknown that almost no one ever enters. That's why it's so quiet here." He brushes a strand of hair out of his face.

You look at him challengingly. "What if I tell everyone you've been hanging around?"

He laughs, "I don't think you would."

"Why?"

"Fans would come here looking for me. They'll see I'm not here and buy all your records instead."

You clutch your chest in mock concern. "You're right. I'd better not do that then."

"That's what I thought. Besides, I wouldn't set foot in this store, and we'd never see each other again." He waits for your reaction.

You look at him with your mouth open. "What?"

He repeats himself. "We would never see each other again."

You hold your cup. "I get that... But you want to see me again?"

He smiles. "I don't know. I like you."

You stare at him.

"Okay Y/N. I've got to go now. Give me your hand."

You obey and hold your hand in front of him.

He starts writing numbers on it. "Call me. Then we can have a date."

Kurt finishes his coffee and puts the empty cup on the table.

"I'll hear from you?"

You nod. "I'll call you."

You say goodbye to each other. Kurt joins Max at the counter and pays. He then leaves the record store. The bell rings.

You take a big sip from your cup. Kurt Cobain just gave you his number. The famous Kurt Cobain!

You call him the same day. You hit it off right away. Quickly you get together and are the new dream couple among celebrities. Nirvana fans love you, they see how happy you make Kurt.

He left the lyrics he had written on his arm in the song Dumb and didn't take it out. The song means a lot to you, because it reminds you of your first meeting in the record store.

#kurt cobain one shot #kurt cobain x y/n #kurt cobain #kurt cobain x reader #kurt cobain imagine #nirvana x y/n #nirvana x reader #nirvana one shot #nirvana imagine #nirvana

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ghoststyles · 9 months

Text

Fairway to Heaven - Part 7

You might wanna queue up Phoebe Bridgers for this one?

7.6K

_____________________________________________________

It’s been five whole weeks since Harry received Camille’s package. The brown box sits in the back of Harry’s office closet, burning a hole in the floor. He left all of the contents alone, except Oliver’s birth photo and a drawing, which are now in a picture frame on his desk.

The drawing, made of crayon and construction paper, is of a cat (or so he thinks) next to the Eiffel tower. In large, messy letters reads ‘Pierre’. When he zones out during his meetings, he looks at it, wondering if Camille has made any promises to Oliver about meeting Harry.

It’s not that he’s avoiding going to Paris. He’d leave tomorrow if it were up to him. Reopening this chapter of his life means a lifestyle change, not just for himself, but for Briar. She’s 24. No one should be thrown into a life where they’re suddenly a step-mom. She can’t even rent a car alone in America, for God’s sake.

They’ve danced around the topic; neither of them really knowing what to do. Briar tries to keep busy by working at the club and spending time at her campus’s library. Harry can’t help but feel her pulling away. He prays this uncertainty from her is in his head as he feels his 30 year old self-destruction return.

The door to his son is wide open. He wishes someone would just fucking shove him through.

Briar is staring staring off into space at Cafe Benito, waiting for Madison to arrive. She taps her foot nervously, making direct eye contact with everyone who enters. She feels sneaky and that Harry could walk in at any minute.

The short brunette enters the cafe moments later, directly locking eyes with Briar at the corner table.

“Hi, Briar! So nice to finally meet you in person,” she smiles warmly, sitting down in the seat across from her. Briar pushes an iced latte toward her, to which she smiles gratefully. “Your message was a little cryptic. What’s up? And why did you want to meet in person?”

Briar takes a deep breath as she stares at Harry’s assistant, a woman she’s talked with numerous times over the phone, but has never met.

“Without getting into too much detail, Harry is dealing with a personal issue, and I think he might need a little help. I wanted to get in touch with you, since you know his schedule and travel preferences.”

“Oh, sure, sure. What’s going on?”

“He needs to go to Paris for a bit. I’m not thinking too long. Maybe a month or so,” Briar sighs, looking off to the side. “But I know he’s so busy with work, it’s super hard.”

“Well, he and Niall just hired a new associate, so I feel like it wouldn’t be too hard. A lot of people take leaves of absences,” Madison smiles softly. “I’d say it’s been about 8 years since Harry took one. Not sure why. I had just started there as a temp.”

Briar has a hunch as to why he took time off. Nonetheless, she doesn’t dwell on it.

“Yeah, a leave of absence. I just don’t think he’ll do it on his own. Which is why I need your help. I’d like to arrange for him to travel there, maybe in two weeks. Does he fly commercial or take the jet?”

“Commercial for long-haul flights. He gets less freaked out over the ocean in the bigger planes,” she laughs. “I can book something using my company card and get reimbursed for it so he doesn’t suspect anything.”

“That sounds good. I say just pick a date, and I’ll make it work. Do you think you can slowly start clearing his calendar? Maybe decline recurring meetings one at a time. I’ll talk to Niall to make sure this is alright.”

The women discuss packing for him in secret, and ways to cover their tracks. As heart wrenching as this whole situation is, a rush of adrenaline hits Briar. She takes a sharp breath when Madison speaks up.

“Are you going to be joining him? I can make sure to get you the seats that lie down next to each other.”

Briar bites her lip as she feels her eyes droop sadly.

“No, this is just something he needs to take care of. I think it’ll bring on some personal growth.”

Madison nods, “Okay, no problem. Can I be honest with you?”

Briar sits up, nodding.

“Harry has been a new person since he met you. It’s like night and day. Before, he was a little scatterbrained. I think you bring a little stability to his life that he was missing.”

Briar’s heart could jump out of her chest. She quietly thanks Madison, scared of crying in the cafe.

“I could feel him slipping back into his old ways these past few weeks, so whatever he needs to go do, I hope it brings him back,” she places her hand lightly on Briar’s shoulder before standing up.

Briar hopes it brings him back, too.

A few days later, Briar heads to Harry’s house with Gus in what feels like the first time in forever. She feels like a stranger. They’ve texted here and there, but Briar is purposefully making herself busy and unavailable.

Maureen is out watering her plants along their shared fence when Briar drives up. Gus trots over to sniff her through the fence before promptly lifting his leg, nearly peeing on her. Maureen shrieks, dropping the hose and walking back to her house.

Briar laughs to herself before calling Gus back over. Gus barges into Harry’s house through his garage door like he owns the place. Briar follows him in, only to stop dead in her tracks at the site of his kitchen.

Harry is singing Elton John at the top of his lungs, placing cookies on a cooling rack. His oven is on and the counters are littered with bowls, plates and dry ingredients. She watches as he circles his hips, mixing the batter as he moves along.

“And I think it’s gonna be a long, long ti--,” Gus finally approaches Harry, to which he jumps when he feels his fur swipe his leg. “Birdie! What’re you doing here?”

She smiles, walking over to him to wrap her arms around his core. She slips her hands in the waistband of his sweatpants, making his gasp at how cold her hands are.

“Just miss ya, is all,” she smiles, closing her eyes. “What’s all this for?”

“I listened to a podcast and they mentioned doing something from your childhood that made you happy. So, I decided to make some cookies. Boxed recipe, of course,” he laughs, pointing to the slightly burnt desserts.

“That sounds like fun,” she scrunches her eyebrows, wondering what she’d pick. “I’d do a lemonade stand, I think.”

“Now we’re talking. Want to be my business partner?” Harry places the bowl down before lifting Briar onto the countertop. “I’ve missed you, baby. I’m so sorry I’ve been so in my head lately.”

Briar shrugs, not sure what to say. They kiss passionately for a few minutes, before Gus starts barking. They break the kiss, only to see Gus giving them the side eye near his food bowl.

“I fed you at home, hungry, hungry hippo!”

“Just give him some. He looks skinny,” Harry purses his lips as he walks to the pantry. He scoops a generous amount of food into the bowl, making Briar roll her eyes. The vet would say otherwise.

Her phone buzzes, signaling Madison sent Harry’s Paris itinerary. She quickly clears the notification, taking note of the departure date. Harry leaves in 8 days. Her stomach turns in anguish.

Harry guides Briar to his couch, bringing her to lay her legs across his lap. He’s staring dreamily into her eyes, but she can’t feel more disconnected to him. She knows how bad this situation is hurting him, and she doesn’t want him to move on without addressing these feelings.

Harry starts to dance his hands up her side, a clear pathway to getting in her pants. Her resolve remains strong.

“Let’s just talk, Harry,” she grabs his hand and puts it in his lap. “I feel like we haven’t been doing a lot of that lately.”

Harry nods, defeated, “I know. It’s just a weird situation that I don’t know how to navigate.”

“I agree, but that’s why we have to do it together,” she says, twisting the ring on his pointer finger. “How’s work? What’s been going on?”

“We just hired a new associate, so that should take some things off my plate. My calendar is surprisingly lighter. This might be a shift in the right direction. Or, Niall is silently pushing me out,” he chuckles.

Briar bites her lip. She has an animated face, and she doesn’t want her expression to give her secret away. Harry continues talking, so she assumes she’s in the clear.

Her conversation with Niall went well; he rolled his eyes at the idea of taking on more work, but he understands this is something Harry needs to do. His job is to play dumb at work and make Harry believe he is attending all of the same meetings. Madison even went as far as to make fake calendar invites.

“How’s your mom settling into California?” Harry asks after a beat of silence. Briar has to stop herself from groaning.

Weeks before, she drug her brothers to their childhood home to clear out junk. It was a cathartic experience; she hadn’t been there in years, but it felt like she never left. Her bedroom was the exact same; purple walls with zebra print accents. She found her pile of Littlest Pet Shop pets and Polly Pockets. It was like she was 5 again, sitting on the floor with her Dad, giving names to each pet and telling him their intricate backstories; lots of infidelity and long lost twins.

Even her oldest brother, Welles, and his new fiancee, Imani, came. He started off cold, but warmed up as they reminisced on their early days. Cormac sat quietly, unable to join in since he was just a baby at the time.

“I think she’s alright. The house is beautiful. Have you ever been to Montecito?”

Harry looks down, before nodding, “Yeah, that’s where Camille and I lived for a bit.”

“Oh. I see,” Briar says quietly.

“You should go out and see her. It really is one of the most beautiful places,” Harry says, rubbing her leg.

“Yeah, maybe,” she yawns. The pair chit chat for a bit longer, putting Briar’s mind at ease a little.

“Can you stay for a few days?” Harry asks, staring right into her eyes. “I-I can’t help but feel like I’m fucking everything up.”

This wakes Briar right up.

“H, no. I think I’ve just been trying to keep myself busy since the only thing that needs to happen now is,” Briar trails off. “You need to go to Paris.”

Harry closes his eyes. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I’m just scared.”

Briar sits up, adjusting herself into a kneeled position. She grabs his hand, looking down.

“I know you are,” she inhales. “So, I made arrangements for you to go. You leave in 8 days.”

Briar feels like a ton of bricks land on her. She’s terrified to meet his eyes.

“W-what?”

Harry is stunned, feeling like all the air in his lungs left at once.

“I talked to Madison and Niall. Everything is set. You’re going to stay there for a month.”

He closes his eyes, processing what she’s saying. What about work? What about the two of them?

“I didn’t go as far as contacting Camille, so you’ll have to do that. But, I’m sure she can fit in some visits. Maybe at a park, to start,” Briar rambles. “You’ll probably have a lot of downtime.”

“A-are you not coming with me?” Harry asks, dumbfounded. His hands are trembling, waiting for her answer.

She shifts, not meeting his eyes, “No. Just you.”

Panic bubbles uncomfortably in his chest, “Birdie, please, I,” he trails off. “I can’t do that. No. No.”

“You can, and you’re going to. This is such a big moment for you, but I think you need to do it on your own,” Briar chokes out. Tears started to roll down her rosy cheeks. “You can call me any time. I’m sorry I had to do this so sneakily.”

He pulls her into his chest as he starts to cry. His heart is breaking knowing they’ll be separated for a month.

“Thank you,” he croaks. “You don’t understand how much this means to me. But I’m so gutted you aren’t coming.”

She sniffles, wiping her nose on his shirt. His chest bobbles up and down as the quiet cries take over him. She can’t help but feel like this is the end.

Harry sent Camille an email of his itinerary a few days prior to his departure. He profusely apologized for the last minute plans, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s eager, almost. But, maybe Harry is reading too far into her tone.

The family has a few activities throughout the month, but they can easily work around Harry’s time with Oliver. She even invited him to one of his football games.

Briar is sat on Harry’s bed as he looks through his suitcase one last time. He mentally checks off his toiletries, socks and underwear, not really paying any mind to his outfits.

He’s still in disbelief he’ll be on a leave of absence from work. It took a lot of convincing from Niall, but finally Harry gave in as Niall swooped him into a big hug. Harry made a list of books in his phone that he’d like to read, and museums he’d like to visit, since he hadn’t been to Paris in years. Hell, he’s barely had any free time at all.

“Are you gonna stay here while I’m gone?”

Briar’s head snaps up to look at Harry. She bites her lip, unsure how to answer.

“I think I’ll just stay at my apartment, if that’s okay,” she says quietly. Suddenly picking at her cuticles is more interesting than looking at Harry.

Harry’s heart sinks, but he understands. She didn’t ask to be part of this.

“I just don’t want to feel like the girl you have waiting for you at home.”

Harry shudders, but nods, “I get it. I want you to be comfortable. I drug you into this.”

“No, I offered to help. So I am. It’ll be okay. I just have to keep myself busy.”

Harry moves the suitcase from the bench at the foot of the bed to the floor. He looks at his folded clothes sadly and swallows thickly. He crawls to meet her on the bed, pulling her into the small spoon position. Harry starts to kiss the back of her neck, sucking a little longer as he moves under her jaw.

“Are you gonna send me lots of nudies?”

Briar inhales deeply, not missing a beat before replying, “No, you can watch porn.”

Harry gasps, “Briar Barlowe, I do NOT watch porn!”

“Mhm, sure,” she smiles to herself, still facing the other direction. “What do you even watch anyway?”

Harry thinks for a minute, wanting to have this conversation delicately, “I just try to support women in their pursuit to find lucrative job opportunities. Also known as fucking the housekeeper.”

“You are so full of shit,” she laughs.

“I like watching people fuck in the woods. And maybe almost get caught.”

Briar’s eyes scrunch closed as she giggles. That checks out, based on the number of times they’ve hooked up on the 14th hole.

“What do YOU watch, missy?”

Briar smiles, “hmmm. A lot of it we already do. But my new favorite is ‘free use’”

Harry’s stomach clenches, “That’s hot as fuck baby. You want me to just take you whenever I want? Wanna wear nothing but one of my shirts around the house?”

He continues kissing her neck as she moans out, “Yeah, daddy.”

“Wanna go downstairs and pretend to read your book? And I’ll be right there?”

Her heart races with excitement. This is just the distraction she needs. She peels herself away from him, but not before grabbing his crotch.

“Oi! Easy, Birdie.”

She scurries off to Harry’s sofa, peeling her panties and bra off as she goes. It’ll be like a scavenger hunt. She grabs a book from the shelf and positions herself on her stomach, knees bent and ankles crossed behind her in the air. The exposure feels cool against her wet cunt.

She flips to a random page, a smutty one of course. The character is pinned down, her partner kissing down her body with an ice cube in his mouth. She shivers, imagining Harry’s tongue swirling around her nipple with ice between his teeth.

She hears Harry coming down the steps. The trick to free use porn is to not say a word at first. Briar continues reading until she feels Harry come up behind her, his large hand grabbing her butt cheek and massaging it. She flips the pages, furrowing her brows and using her pointer finger to keep her spot exaggeratedly.

Harry pulls his cock out from his gym shorts and briefs before lining himself up and pressing into her. He keeps his thrusts short and shallow, not wanting to give her too much of a reaction.

Tiny gasps escape her throat, but she tries to keep her composure. For added fun, Briar starts to read her book out loud. Harry’s stomach clenches at the detail, wanting to do everything to his girl.

“‘Wrap your legs around me and tell me how much you like it, Nate says’,” Briar sighs out, slowly flipping the page. Harry has to bite his knuckle as not to cry out.

“I love reading, I wish my daddy read my naughty books with me,” Briar sighs, holding back a moan. “Oh my gosh, daddy? Is that you?”

She turns her head, a devious glint in her eyes.

“Ughn, keep reading your book, baby. Wanna hear your words.”

“‘Can you be a good girl and be quiet?’ Nate says, and I can finally start to feel his fingers under my skirt,” Briar reads out loud, her pussy clenching Harry’s cock deliciously.

Harry locks his jaw, smacking the book out of her hands. She gasps as he flips her over and starts to pound into her. He presses his hand into her bare chest for leverage. She throws her head back, a strangled cry falling from her lips.

“Love fucking you all the time, baby. Don’t know how I’m gonna live without this fucking pussy for a month,” Harry grits out.

In all their fun, it distracted Briar from the magnitude of their situation. Her mood shifts, and it’s like her cunt dried up immediately. Her heart is pumping from anxiety and not excitement. She cries out, her muted orgasm washing over her. She might as well have faked it.

“Fffuck yes, baby. Gonna come now,” Harry grasps her cheeks with one hand, making her lips puff out like a fish. “Can you say, ‘I love you, Daddy’?”

“I wov you daddy,” she blubbers out, his hand making it difficult to enunciate.

Harry buries into her before dropping his body weight onto her and sticking his face in her neck as he pours into her, “Love you so much.”

She stares at the ceiling over his shoulder. Love fucking hurts sometimes.

On the day of Harry’s flight, he and Briar spend the whole day together. They got breakfast and took Gus for a walk around the public garden. Their pinkies are locked as they stroll past the once flowery oasis, spying piles of leaves on the ground.

“What’re you thinking about right now?” Briar asks.

“I’m not as nervous as I thought I’d be. I think I’m thinking of logistics. Like, if it goes well, what do we do? Do I fly to France a few times a year? I don’t think she’d let him come stay with me right away. Someone would have to fly back and forth with him,” Harry trails off, his pinkie cutting off the circulation of Briar’s.

“Well, there’s time to figure that out. It doesn’t have to be determined over night,” Briar says, leaning her head on his shoulder. Her heart has felt heavy all day. She tries not to let her feelings show on her face, because she knows Harry would back out. He has to do this.

“And I want to make sure you know where you fit in all of this. I know you haven’t said it, but I know your brain pretty well at this point,” Harry says, placing his thumb on her cheek as he turns to face her. “We’re partners. A team. I know you’re thinking you’re a burden. And you’re not; I value your input so much. Just need you to be patient with me.”

She nods silently, placing her head on his chest. Gus starts to pull on his leash toward a goose, so it stops her from crying.

“Augustus Theodore Barlowe-Styles!” Harry yells.

Briar looks at him wildly, “Um, when did that happen?”

Harry shrugs, “If you need me to sign a fake paper, I will. But I am his dad.”

Briar bites her lip, looking the other direction so Harry can’t see the pain on her face.

They continue on, returning to the car about an hour later. Harry has a parking ticket, to which he grumbles to himself. Briar laughs, snapping a photo of him holding the bright orange paper.

They return home to put Gus away and wait for the driver. Harry arranged for a driver to pick them up so they can say their goodbyes the whole drive. When the black Escalade pulls into the driveway, silent tears start to blur her vision. The man grabs Harry’s luggage and opens the door for Briar to get in.

They sit so close together, not even a sheet of paper can fit between them. He grasps her hand for dear life, not willing to let go first. The drive to the airport is excruciating, so Harry just peppers kisses in Briar’s hair, taking in long whiffs of her scent.

“I can’t thank you enough, Birdie,” Harry starts. “A month will go by in no time.”

Briar breathes in deeply, a lump forming in her throat, “Just a month.”

“Just a month.”

They sit in silence, basking in the physical feeling of one another. Harry leans down to kiss her as they pull into the terminal. It deepens, Harry gently swiping his tongue through her lips. The car comes to a stop, so Briar breaks apart. Harry feels a pang in his heart.

Briar starts to cry, a tiny sniffle escaping her. She can’t bring herself to look at him.

“I don’t want to go yet, but I have to, baby.”

She nods, squeezing her eyes shut. Her grip on his t-shirt is so tight, her hands are shaking.

“I love you, Birdie, so much. Just bear with me, please. Whatever you’re feeling…Call me. Text me. We’re in this together.”

Harry grips her thigh before opening the car door. She shuffles out after him, the bright lights of the terminal blinding her. The driver is taking Harry’s luggage from the trunk, so the two of them stand at the hood of the car in a tight embrace.

Briar’s tears are dampening Harry’s favorite Kendrick Lamar ‘DAMN.’ hoodie. He looks so soft and comfy. His hair is freshly washed, the smell of the citrus shampoo taking over their embrace.

The AirFrance attendants take his luggage away, so he only has to worry about his trusty suede duffel bag. He places one last long kiss on Briar’s forehead and pulls away. Their hands are interlocked, but don’t separate until the last second.

Harry grabs his duffel bag before sadly following the attendant inside. Briar stands still, watching him through the glass windows until he’s at the escalator. Harry presses a kiss to the pads of his three fingers before turning his hand to face her. She reaches up, pretending to grab the stray kiss, tears still falling rapidly.

“Whenever you’re ready miss,” the driver’s soft voice breaks her train of thought. She looks over at him in acknowledgement.

When she looks back to the escalator, he’s gone. Briar sobbed the whole ride home.

“I can’t be a step-mom, Caroline. I’m fucking 24 years old!” Briar grasps at her hair as she’s sat at brunch. She didn’t sleep for a single minute after dropping Harry off. She paced her apartment, ready to send the most Earth-shattering text to Harry.

He couldn’t have been sweeter to her. He paid for in-flight wifi so he could text her throughout. He watched movies he thought she’d like, and rated his meals. He was a fan of the yogurt parfait but not the chicken milanese. He let her know there was a woman with a young baby sat next to him, so he offered to hold the baby while she used the restroom. Briar’s heart hurt at the last part.

“Well, maybe you don’t have to be all that involved, anyway. The kid lives in France, for Christ’s sake. You could be like Luke and Lorelai in Gilmore Girls.”

Briar stares at her, bewildered, “They broke up because of the secret kid, Caro.”

“You’re right! But they found each other in the end.”

She rolls her eyes at her friend’s inability to read the room. She’s too absorbed in her new bartender boyfriend to care about anyone else now.

Briar hasn’t heard from Harry in a few hours, but she assumes it’s because of the time difference. The waiter appears, asking if the girls would like more mimosas.

“Keep them coming, please,” Caroline smiles. He nods before disappearing into the back. She looks back at Briar. “Can’t you just hold on for two weeks? That way, he’ll have a better idea of how he can manage it all, and then you can decide.”

She’s right. Briar hasn’t even given it a fighting chance; she’s just always trusted her gut and it’s always worked out. The complexity of the situation scares her.

“You’re right. I don’t even know if they’ve met yet. I’ll relax a little, I guess. How’s Max?”

Caroline nods, giving Briar a side hug, “We’re good. Taking it slow. He got out of a long relationship not long ago, too. I’m really happy, Bri.”

Briar smiles, “I’m so glad. You deserve it. I’ll try to cross paths with him a little more at Wynnewood. Does this mean you’re moving back here any time soon?”

Caroline laughs, breaking the yolk on her eggs Benedict, “Probably. I’m already sick of my parents’ house. It’s weird not knowing anyone in your town as an adult.”

Briar looks down at her phone when she feels it start to vibrate.

🦊: Are you busy?

She puts her phone in her purse so she can focus on her friend. She’ll call him later.

“I get that. Have you met anyone at the gym or anything? Maybe you can start teaching spin again,” Briar suggests. Caroline juts her lip out.

“Maybe. It’s a commitment, though.”

“Might be good for you. Think about it.”

The girls wrap up, and part ways. If there’s one thing the two of them go hard or go home for, it’s brunch. Briar decides to grab an Uber since she had a few mimosas.

The driver arrives, but he furrows his brow when she gets in.

“For Harry?”

Fuck. She’s using his account, not hers. She nods, not really wanting to disclose that it’s her boyfriend’s account. Her phone vibrates again.

🦊: Where are you going? Call me if you’re heading home.

“Fuck,” she curses under her breath. Leaning her head against the window, she lets the glass cool her now warm forehead. Harry gets pinged when his credit card is charged.

She dials his contact, about to give up until he answers on the third ring.

“Hi, Birdie. What’re you up to?”

She can’t quite read his tone.

“Hi. Not much, just got done grabbing brunch with Caroline,” she looks out the window. “H-how’s it going over there?”

“Everything here is good. I landed in the morning, obviously, checked into my hotel, and then I met up with Camille and Oliver at a park close by. It was surreal, honestly,” Harry says, putting his free hand on top of his head. “It went really well. Better than I could’ve imagined.”

Briar smiles, finally feeling genuine about this whole situation. She could cry knowing that little boy will finally get to know his father. And she knows he’ll never skip out on him from this point on.

“I’m so glad, H. Really. I bet you’ll have so much fun the rest of the time you’re there. Will you be able to have him by yourself, do you think? Or does Camille want to be there for the first couple visits?”

“I think I will, eventually, yeah. She just wants to make sure he’s comfortable, y’know? But, from what I can tell, he’s already perfectly comfortable.”

“That’s great. Maybe there’s an activity you can do together,” Briar says, but pauses. “Honestly I’m not sure how French children spend their time. Eating cheese?”

Harry laughs, pacing his hotel room. He hasn’t been this anxious with Briar on the phone since their first call.

“From what I can tell, it’s a lot of play dates. The thing is, kids are allowed to just ‘be’ here. I feel like American kids have to be occupied at all times. It was cool to see his imagination play out. Even though we only had a football with us. He got really creative with it.”

“Anyway, I miss ya, Birdie. How’s Caroline? Is she still with Max?”

“Miss you too, so much. Gus does too. I don’t take him for runs like you do. And Caro is good. Still with Max,” she says as she fumbles out of the Uber.

“Thank you!” She says to the driver.

“You home already?”

“Yeah, walking up to the door. Sorry I accidentally used your account,” Briar says sheepishly.

“Don’t apologize, my love. Charge whatever you need to on my card.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna take Gus for a walk. I love you. I’m glad you had a good day. Remember to send pictures,” she smiles leaning on her door frame.

“Love you, Birdie. Have a good night.”

“Bye. Sleep well,” she says quietly.

She starts to cry again, maybe from the alcohol. She’s happy for him. Really. But she can’t help but feel this gnawing in her soul.

“Olivier! Viens ici s'il te plait,” Camille calls out.

Harry is rusty at French, not needing to use it in years. Nonetheless, his boy drops the toy in his hand and enters the kitchen.

For their visit today, they’re at Camille and Theo’s countryside home. Theo took their daughter for a walk to give them space. Harry didn’t request for Theo to make himself scarce, but he appreciates the gesture.

“Harry va t'emmener chercher une crêpe. Est-ce que ça sonne bien?”

The little boy nods. Harry is translating in his head. He only recognizes is his name and une crêpe.

Even though Camille is hesitant, the crêperie is around the corner in the small town. They’d be gone for half an hour max.

“Does that sound good, mate? What flavor are you going to get?”

Oliver looks puzzled, and stares at his mom. She nods her head, “Anglais, Olivier.”

“Oweo,” he says quietly. Harry learned Oliver has a small speech impediment they’re working through. He’s made great strides throughout the school year.

“I might get that, too. Ready to go?”

The boy nods, and they both stand to head to the front door. Camille waves them off from the window.

Harry feels like a deer in headlights. Should he hold his hand?

Oliver starts to walk on the gravel road, to which Harry switches positions with him so he’s in harms way if a car were to swerve at them.

Alright, he thinks. That was fatherly.

Oliver reaches his small hand to grab Harry’s, and he feels his heart lurch in his chest. It’s so small, Oliver holds onto his pinky. He smiles, thinking of Briar.

They walk a bit longer, Harry listening to Oliver ramble on about 100 topics. He smiles and nods largely, encouraging him to keep talking. The crêperie comes into view, so they enter the shop to meet a cheery older woman.

“Olivier! Bonjour mon coeur!”

Oliver hides behind Harry’s leg and peeps out, "Bonjour mademoiselle Celine.”

“Good morning. We’d love to have two Oreo crêpes, please. I’ll also take a cappuccino.”

“Of course, sir. Tout pour mon client préféré,” she giggles, looking at the boy. Judging by their mischievous smiles, he can tell Oliver is a regular here.

“Merci.”

They sit at a small table outside on the packed patio. Oliver sits on Harry’s lap, since there is only one chair. Oliver points out birds and starts to recite the alphabet backwards for Harry.

“Parles-tu français?” the woman next to them asks.

“Not much, honestly,” Harry laughs.

“Is this your son?”

“Oh, he’s n—,” Harry stops himself. “Yes. Yes, this is my son, Oliver.”

His heart is beating out of his chest. He’s so used to not claiming his niece when he takes her out.

“Beautiful. You look like twins,” she smiles before going back to reading her book.

“Merci,” Harry smiles.

The waiter brings their crepes and Harry’s drink. He pulls his phone out for a quick selfie of the two of them, Oreo crumbs messy around their mouths. He sends it to Briar, knowing it’s the middle of the night.

“Who is that girwl?” Oliver asks, spying Harry’s screen saver. His little accent makes Harry smile.

“That’s my girlfriend, Briar. Maybe one day you’ll get to meet her. Do you want to see her silly puppy, Gus?”

“Yeah!”

Harry shows Oliver tons of videos he’s taken of Gus and photos of himself and Briar. They enjoy their time looking at pictures and singing some of the songs he’s learned at school. The two walk home together, hand in hand.

Harry doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

It’s noon before Briar finally wakes up on her day off. Gus is well past his puppy years, so he’ll sleep as long as she’ll let him. She leashes him up, opting to not bring her phone and take in the sunshine.

She misses being able to let him out back at Harry’s, but she deals with it. They walk and Gus sniffs around for about an hour before they make their way home. She pulls her phone on the charger to find a few texts from Harry.

🦊: Awake yet, lazy bones?

🦊: Went for crêpes. Just the two of us.

🦊: I already feel so comfortable hanging with him, Bird. I wish you were here 🖤

There are several hours in between texts, so she doesn’t rush to reply.

🐥: Two cute guys! I’m so happy for you. Wish I was there too.

She lies.

Gus lays down, so Briar immediately heads outside with her headphones. She hasn’t taken a run in weeks, but she wants her heart to hammer in her chest from exercise, not anxiety. She’s never told Harry she runs, in fear of him dragging her for long distances. She prefers to run to a coffee shop and then walk back.

Main street comes into view once she finds a good rhythm. She’s listening to Clouds by One Direction, so her pace is quick. She passes Lululemon moms with their babies in strollers and designer dogs in tow, giving tight lip smiles.

Her favorite cafe is on her right, so she stops to stretch and even out her breathing before going in. The guy at the counter welcomes her asking what she’d like to drink.

“Can I have an iced green tea with just a pump of sweetener and a lemon?”

“Sure, coming right up,” he winks.

She sits at the counter to get off her feet.

“This might be weird, but I think you’re in one of my business classes.”

Briar cocks her head to look at him. They all have to have profile photos since it’s online. She finally recognizes him. Spencer.

“Oh, yes! Spencer, right? I’m Briar,” she reaches out to shake his hand gently.

“Yep, good memory. Are you almost done with your paper?”

Briar smiles, “Nope, haven’t even started outlining.”

“Okay, good. At least we’re on the same wavelength.”

He hands her the drink and waves her off when she tries to give him her card, “No worries, it’s on me. Let me know if you want to meet up and study some time.”

He walks swiftly into the back. He wrote his number on the cardboard sleeve surrounding the drink. Nervousness bubbles in her stomach.

🦊: Heading back to the hotel. Let me know if you’re free.

She reads Harry’s text. Re-reads it. Re-reads it again. Then she shoves her phone in her sports bra before sprinting out of the cafe.

Her music resumes at full volume, this time, Kiss You comes on. She smiles trying not to sing out loud for everyone to hear.

She makes it home in record time, running straight to the bathroom to shower. She continues playing her music, only to be interrupted by a call. She squints from across the bathroom to see the familiar fox emoji on the screen. She waits for it to go to voicemail before belting out the lyrics to Steal My Girl. Briar isn’t sure why she’s avoiding him. It’s only been 3 days. They have a long time to go.

She finishes her shower, taking the time to moisturize and do her skincare routine. Once she’s in her robe, she settles in her bed to call Harry back.

“‘Lo?”

“Hi,” She says quietly. “Did I just wake you up?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I think I fell asleep at 4pm,” he chuckles. “How is your day?”

“Good, I slept in and then went for a run, actually.”

“A run? How come you’ve never gone on one with me?” Harry is sort of offended.

Briar laughs, a genuine one, “‘Cause I was scared you’d make me run for miles. I like to run and get coffee or tea and then walk back.”

Harry hums, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. He’s not sure what else to say to her.

“Can we FaceTime? Wanna see your pretty face,” Harry says.

“Mhm,” Briar switches to FaceTime in one swift motion.

“Hi, pretty,” Harry says, his eyes lighting up.

“Hi, handsome. Looks like you already need a haircut,” she laughs.

“I know, I totally spaced getting one before I left. Although, I didn’t know I was leaving.”

Briar is quiet before asking, “How was your day with Oliver? That’s great you got some time alone with him.”

Harry beams as he tells her all the things Oliver has shown and talked to him about. He told her how natural everything feels, even so soon after officially meeting him.

“So, did Camille explain to him who you are?” Briar asks delicately.

“Yeah, but he hasn’t called me Dad or anything, yet. Papa, in French, I guess. She gave him all of my cards every year. She’s shown him pictures,” Harry yawns. “But I don’t think she ever told him the history, of course. Always said ‘maybe one day. Ultimately, Theo is raising him. That’s a bond I won’t try to interfere with. I trust him.”

“That’s good. I know I keep saying it, but I’m so happy for you,” Briar smiles softly.

“Thanks, Bird. You look awfully comfy,” Harry smirks. “Whatcha got under that robe, lovie?”

“C’mon, not now, H,” Briar blows him off.

A confused look flashes over his face, but it quickly fades.

“What? Why not?”

“I just — You’re there to see your son. I just feel weird calling and doing all this,” Briar admits.

“But it’s okay to call me while I’m on a work trip and get me riled up?” His head cocks to the side, eyebrows furrowed.

“T-that’s different.”

“How?” His nostrils flare out. “It’s not like I have Oliver here with me.”

“I don’t know, it just is. Don’t be like this, please,” she pleads.

“Okay…?” he draws out. Suddenly, her flaky behavior is not in his head. “Um, I guess I’ll let you go then. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They both hang up with newly formed pits in their stomachs.

Harry woke up bright and early on day 11, getting ready to watch Oliver’s football game. They spent the last few days apart so he could visit his grandparents in the south of France.

Harry spent each day the same way; eating at a cafe, reading the newspaper, taking his French Duolingo lesson, and then hitting a museum or a park before ordering room service. Sometimes a call with Briar fits in there.

Harry smiles at the thought of his mum and sister meeting him. Gemma’s daughter, Hattie, is only a year older than Oliver. He can picture them running around in the backyard on a summer day, jumping in and out of the pool, ice lollies staining their faces.

He’s getting ahead of himself. He visibly shakes his head back and forth to focus.

Grabbing it off the side table, he looks at his phone. It’s 1AM at home, so he wonders if Briar is still awake.

🦊: Hi, Birdie. Still awake?

Briar is 5 episodes deep into Jersey Shore when her phone vibrates. Gus stirs, wondering why she’s disturbing him. Doing the math in her head, she realizes it’s 7AM in Paris.

🐥: Morning 🤍 I’m just watching TV

He doesn’t bother replying, and opts to call.

“Hi,” she says quietly, grabbing the remote to pause the TV. The tension over the last few days have been rough, and Briar knows it’s her fault. Her cold feet about going all in with Harry has consumed her. She’s been dodging his calls, calling back hours after he tries to initiate contact.

“What’re you doing up so late, baby girl?”

His gruff morning voice gives her chills. She misses his soft speaking voice gently rousing her from sleep in the mornings.

“Watching classic American television,” she laughs softly. “What’re you doing up so early?”

“I was invited to watch Oliver’s football games today. Camille’s parents will be there too, so it’ll be nice to see them.”

Briar grimaces to herself. Will it? Those people left him high and dry as much as Camille did.

“That’s nice. Were you close with them?”

“Yeah, her dad and I bonded over vintage cars and watches. And her mum is very sweet.”

Briar hums. After a while, Harry speaks up.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right, Birdie?”

She freezes. He’s onto her.

“Yes,” she starts off slow and questioning. “Why do you say that?”

“Not sure. It might be me. Just feeling like we’re a bit off.”

“I’m not a long distance person. You know that,” she lies. Again.

“I know that. This isn’t a long distance relationship, though,” Harry replies.

Briar opts for silence. Again.

“I need words, baby. This is never going to work if you’re not honest with me.”

She closes her eyes, “I just don’t think it’s going to work at all, Harry.”

There it is. The breaking point. The atomic bomb. The earthquake that destroys 100 cities.

Harry covers his eyes with his hand. He’s so shaky he can barely stand. A highlight reel of their time together flashes through his mind. The high highs and their few and far between lows. He’s never in his life felt so tied to another human being before. Not even his son, whom he’s just getting to know.

“You don’t mean that,” Harry presses. His heart is racing so fast it’s all he can hear.

“I don’t fucking know, Harry,” a cry explodes out of her chest. “This feels like too much, too soon.”

Harry clenches his teeth and balls his fists, “No. No, Briar. This isn’t how this is going to go.”

“Why do you get to dictate everything? This is a big fucking deal, Harry. I can’t see where I fit into this, so I’m taking myself out of it.”

“No! Baby, please. Please just wait until I’m back. There’s gonna be a plan, and I’m sorry I don’t have that for you right now. I’m so fucking sorry. Don’t do this to me. Please,” his voice breaks, exaggerated wheezing leaving his chest.

Briar holds the phone away from her ear, unable to listen to the begging. She’d cave immediately.

“I’ll fly you out. Right fucking now. Drive to the hangar and get on the fucking plane,” he seethes.

She shakes her head, even though he can’t see her.

“Get on the fucking plane, Briar,” the anguish in his voice shatters her heart into a million pieces.

“I-I’m sorry,” Briar clicks off hastily. She feels like the most heartless person in the world. Violent sobs take over as she leans down to rub her face in Gus’s fur.

“Fuck, fuck, ffuck, fuck, fuck!” Harry yells. He starts to punch into the pillow on the bed, slamming his fist over and over again.

With shaky hands, he texts Camille that something came up and he’ll see them tomorrow instead. Harry crumples to the floor, feeling like he could vomit. His phone buzzes, hoping--praying-- it’s Briar.

Harry, that’s not how this is going to work. You’re either in, or you’re out.

“Fuck!”

_________________________________________________

Alexa, play ‘I Know the End’ by Phoebe Bridgers. IM SORRY IM SOFIFJRIJFJRG SEND ME A MESSAGE OR A BOTTLE OF TEQUILA

@daphnesutton @pandeebearstyles @anxiouswaterss @gem1712 @stylesfever @awesomenavy @crazygirlinthisworld @butdaddyilovehim-hs @luxiorchive @alchemxx @narry-heart

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles imagine #Harry styles smut #dom!harry #daddy!harry #agegapfic #Harry Styles golf #golfrry #one direction imagine

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quietlyimplode · 5 months

Text

Clintasha Advent (3)

Prompt: Maybe like a mixture of making own holiday traditions and no where to go, with Clint/Nat or Maria/Nat (your choice !!).

For/Prompter: @emmeywemmy (sorry couldn’t decide on which pairing so it became all of them.. <3)

Warnings: childhood stories but nothing graphic

Word count: 770

A/N: I may not continue posting daily, but will do as many as I can <3

——

“Never have I ever,” Maria starts, bouncing the ball over to Clint.

“No,” he vetos, “with the two of you playing, I’ll lose, get drunk and then who knows what you’ll go.”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Natasha supplies, Clint bouncing the ball over to her.

“Boring,” Maria tells her.

“Hangman?”

The ball moves from Maria to Clint again, as Clint and Natasha share a look.

“No hangman, no tic tac toe,” he says, saying what Natasha is thinking.

“I’m out of ideas,” he groans, throwing the ball.

“Stories?” Natasha asks, bouncing the ball across.

“I don’t know how to play that,” Maria tells her, even though it’s met with a laugh from the red head.

Clint passes the ball.

“No,” Natasha says, “like we just tell some stories.”

Maria sits up intrigued.

Natasha never wants to tell stories about herself.

“Like two truths and a lie?” Clint clarifies.

Natasha shrugs.

“Sure we can play like that.”

The church bell rings, and Clint stops talking, wishing they weren’t hiding out in the middle of a church on one of its busiest days of the year.

The ball moves from Natasha to Maria and they wait for it to finish it’s song.

“Okay, two truths an a lie, do you want to go first?”

Natasha throws the ball back at him; hard, reversing the chain.

“Ow-hey, what? You came up with the game,” he defends.

“You go first,” she says with a huff.

“Okay fine,” he twirls the ball in his hand.

“I can draw, I have a middle name, I’m allergic to legumes,” he says, throwing the ball to Maria.

“Legumes?”

“You can’t draw?”

The refutes come together and he shrugs.

“Chose one.”

Maria and Natasha look at each other, unspoken in their communication.

“Drawing,” they say simultaneously.

Clint shakes his head.

“Legumes.”

Natasha frowns.

The ball back to Maria gives her the next turn.

“I can’t feel a portion of my leg, my mother named me after her, I visit a cemetery every Christmas.”

Clint and Natasha stare.

The game feeling oddly personal now.

“Sorry,” Maria apologises, feeling like she’s stepped over a line.

“No,” Clint refutes.

“Your mother?” Natasha tries, to which Clint nods in agreement.

Maria nods.

“Yeah, too easy.”

“Who do you visit?” Natasha asks.

It’s usually Clint whose the one to ask personal questions, but the untold story draws Natasha in.

“My brother,” Maria sighs, “he was a force. The one who’d make family gatherings worth it. KIA. I’ll visit when we get home. He won’t mind a couple of days being late,” she finishes.

The matter of family and siblings sends both Natasha and Clint quiet.

“I learnt English in Ohio, I’m immune to a black widow bite, I once licked a frog to seduce a mark.”

The last one throws Clint hard.

“Just when I think I know all the things about you,” he laughs.

Natasha is far too quick.

“Barton, you’ll never know everything about me,” she blinks slowly.

“Stop flirting,” Maria laughs, catching the ball Matasha throws.

Clint likes his tongue out.

“Clearly, it’s the black widow bite,” Maria guesses.

Natasha shakes her head.

“Nope, they named us after black widows, it was one of the things they made us immune to,” she nods.

“The frog then?” Clint guesses.

“Nope,” Natasha shakes her her.

“Ohio?” they both guess, simultaneously.

Natasha nods.

“I learnt on Russia, on American cartoons.”

Pieces fall into place for Clint.

“Oh that’s why you don’t like Disney Classics.”

Natasha nods.

Clint feels sadness roll over him that his favourite classics are tainted, and likely he’ll never get to share them with his best friend.

The ball passes to Maria.

“My go again?”

Clint nods.

“We should just make a run for it,” she tells the other two.

“You’re turn,” Natasha says insistently, clearly having fun.

“It’s the 23rd of December, how about, next year we do more?” She avoids.

She’s lucky really, the mark enters the church and Maria turns into the militaristic personality that Natasha doesn’t love.

The parabolic mic is directioned to the meeting and Natasha watches the recording commitment.

Clint already in position to shoot, his finger on the trigger as they all listen to the rhetoric and hate speech.

Maria’s voice is low.

“Next year,” she whispers.

“We’ll play again next year.”

1/ Clint/Nat/Laura + traditions

2/ clintasha + temporary blindness

#clintasha advent 2023 #natasha romanoff #clintasha #black widow #clint barton #my fic #Maria hill #Maria/Clint/Nat #clintasha fanfiction #natasha romanoff fic #clintasha fanfic #in this house #clintasha advent

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novasintheroom · 2 months

Text

102. Hands

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1k

♡ Warnings - none

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

Part 1 ---- Part 2 ---- Part 3 (you are here!) ---- Part 4

Don and Mac mutter to themselves across the fire. Their eyes are glazed with booze, gold and murky in the light. They’ll be out soon.

Good. You’ve had about enough of them today. Some bodyguards you are, getting drunk on the job. You shuffle your papers in your bag, carefully tucking the most vital into a hidden pocket of your overalls while they aren’t looking. They’ve been eyeing your stuff more and more each day. You suspect they’d either been hired by a rival or got it into their thick heads to make off with your findings for themselves. They’ll probably try to take the cartography drawings – and your equipment – soon. Time to switch gears and figure out a way of escape. You sigh and palm at your eyes.

It’s the way these things go. Hard to find good help these days.

Well, almost.

You look off and see the dark, purpled coat of your third bodyguard in the near distance. Vash had placed himself near the cliff’s edge, sitting and staring into nothing for the past half hour or so – messing with that pretty blue hand of his. You can vaguely hear the clinking of metal on metal, and you stand and move before you can talk yourself out of it.

The dark rocks crunch under your boots. You pick your way over the landscape. Vash doesn’t seem to notice you, but that doesn’t mean anything. He has a way of knowing things.

“Aren’t you cold?” You say in greeting. Vash’s shoulders bunch and he turns with surprise. You suspect it’s a show; he must have heard you coming long before now. Still, you stand beside him and wave. “Sorry, I should have been louder.”

He sighs and lets out a chuckle. “No, I was in my own world. Glad you pulled me out of it.” He blinks and says, “And no, I’m not too cold. Got the coat, remember?” He pulls at the red thing as a show.

“Hm, hard to forget it.” You smile when he bashfully laughs and rubs his neck. He’s cute.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

You feel bolder than usual tonight. Maybe it’s the knowing you’ll have to leave soon that lets you sit beside him instead of shying away. Vash watches you curiously. You give him a nervous smile and ask, “What are you working on? I can hear it from the fire.”

His own smile comes easy. He holds out his tech arm, grabbing at the wrist with his flesh one and rotating it. “Just calibrating the arm. It was a little out of sync earlier in that gun fight.” He sees the way your eyes shine at the old tech. Throwing caution away, he asks quietly, “Do you want to look at it?” His smile grows at your eager nod, moving his hand closer for you to grasp.

You take his hand gently. It’s cool to the touch. You aren’t sure why you expected it to be warm. You flip his hand over in your own, looking at all the grooves, the intricacies holding the joints and “bones” together. “This is…incredible,” you breathe. True old tech. The likes of which you haven’t seen since…Your fingers trail up to tap at each of his own tips. It follows all correct anatomy designs. There’s no give to the metal like there would be to skin. You thumb over his palm. His fingers curl slightly at the sensation. “Is…can you feel that?”

Vash nods. “Not as much as my other hand, but I can feel the pressure.” He watches your hand brush his, eyes soft. “Can feel it too when a wire gets pinched.”

You see them when he says it – nearly-microscopic lines running through the opaque metal. Those must be the wires, the “nerves.” What a fascinating piece of technology. “How do you do the upkeep for this?” You don’t even want to guess the fortune it takes to do so.

He shifts then and smiles vaguely. “Ah, I know a guy. Really good with tech like this.”

“Who? I thought I knew everyone who deals with old tech. I’m sure I would have heard about their work if they were making this!”

“Aw c’mon, you can’t know everyone. World’s a big place! Besides, I’m not in the business of telling secrets. Thought that was more your field.”

You hum. Despite his claim, you do know everyone – even the shady ones. He’s dodging, but you suppose that’s fine. I’ve only known you for two weeks, you remind yourself, and release his hand. Vash takes it back. The look on his face is gentle. He is gentle. Not often you find someone like him.

You feel your cheeks flush and look away, grateful for the dark. Darn you and your flash crushes. “Well, thank you for letting me look at it. It’s beautiful.” Your courage shrinking, you stand and dust off your pants. “I’m going to bed. Are you taking first watch?”

He nods. “I don’t think the other two can really…” he trails off and gives a sardonic smile at Don and Mac. They’ve both passed out, snoring loudly into their chests.

See, he was paying attention. You smile and wave. “Let me know when it’s my turn.”

A trailing ‘goodnight’ follows your heels. You head back to your sleeping bag, careful to check inside for any worms that may have decided to make their home there tonight. Finding none, you crawl in and face toward the fire, away from Vash.

What you don’t see is Vash rubbing his hands together and lacing fingers through fingers.

Your own hands rub together. The feeling of Vash’s metal hand will chase you into your dreams for nights to come.

#vash the stampede #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #writing #self insert #reader insert #vash x reader #nova writes #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #150 Bullets

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ninemelodies · 6 months

Text

portraits in the attic

Donna is in the console room, tucked under the center console and reading a magazine, when a headline about summer swimwear reminds her of a question she meant to ask the Doctor. The alien in question is tinkering away somewhere underneath the grating. Every now and then, she hears the whir of the sonic, followed by some sort of muttered exclamation. The TARDIS won’t translate, so Donna figures it’s either Gallifreyan or he’s cursing up a storm. It might be both.

She puts down her magazine and shifts closer to the hole in the grating he had disappeared down. “Doctor?”

The sonic whirs again, briefly, and then she hears him yell back, “Yes, Donna?”

He sounds muffled and distant, like he’s further away than should be physically possible. But then again, Donna considers, she’s in a spaceship that’s bigger on the inside. And anyway, what’s a little spatial nonsense between friends? It’s certainly not the weirdest thing she’s seen while traveling with the Doctor. When she doesn’t respond immediately, he starts back up with the sonic, so Donna raises her voice to be heard. “Why is there a swimming pool in the library?”

Abruptly, the sonic cuts off, and Donna hears the tail end of a huffled laugh. His shoes squeak on the metal as he walks and then he appears at the bottom of the hole, looking up. He climbs halfway up a ladder she hadn’t noticed, until he can comfortably rest his arms on the grated floor. “Where else would the pool be?”

“In its own room?” Donna asks. “The humidity isn’t good for paper, you know.”

The Doctor waves his hand nonchalantly. “The TARDIS makes sure nothing happens to the books. Besides, all of the books are cataloged and archived in a database, so even if something did happen to the books or the library, they wouldn’t be lost. But if you’re really worried, the humidity is contained and regulated by a thermo-”

Donna cuts him off. “Yeah, yeah, Spaceman. The TARDIS keeps them safe, that’s all you had to say. You don’t have to go all techno on me. You know I can hardly understand you when you start babbling.” The Doctor’s face flickers with something like disapproval, but before he can speak whatever thought just skittered across his mind, Donna asks, “Was it always in the library?”

“No,” the Doctor admits. “It used to have its own room, but I had to jettison it.”

“You can just get rid of rooms?”

“In a pinch, I can eject or destroy pieces of the tardis for a power boost,” the Doctor confirms. “Destroying them allows for more of the TARDIS’s power to be directed elsewhere. Ejecting rooms…” the Doctor tilts his head as he considers how best to explain exactly how launching rooms from the TARDIS is an advantage. “Weeeell,” he drawls, “Since we’re talking about a swimming pool anyway. You know how swimmers will push off from the wall to get a boost?” When Donna nods, he continues. “It works very similar to that. It's Newton's third law at work, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Simply put, the room goes one way, and the TARDIS goes the other." He puts the sides of his hands together with his index fingers extended and then mimes them pushing off each other into opposite directions. “Very handy if you need a boost without attracting attention from scanners. I try not to do it very often because, somehow, I always end up needing the room I got rid of immediately after.”

“Okay…” Donna shifts and draws her legs underneath her so that she is sitting cross-legged. The shift in her position has her leaning forward a bit, closer to the Doctor. “That part makes sense, but wouldn’t it have been better to launch the pool with the rest of the room? Otherwise the TARDIS would’ve had to launch the room and move the pool at the same time, right?”

The Doctor gives her one of his half smiles. It tells her that she’s right, but the way his eyes are focused on something just past her shoulder also tells her that he’s miles away, thinking about something else.

“Oi,” Donna calls. When she doesn’t get a response, she leans forward and gently flicks his forehead. “Hello? Earth to Martian.”

That gets his attention. The Doctor’s eyes snap to her face, and Donna is not surprised at the depth of sadness in them. Most of the time, The Doctor looks more like an excited child than he has any right to, but sometimes, like now, when he starts thinking about the past, Donna can see each and everyone of his 900 plus years layered in his eyes. The sadness drags him down and down, until even Donna feels like she could drown in it. He grabs her wrist while she is distracted and pulls her hand away from his face.

“On Messaline, I told you that I had been a father before.” He lets go of her wrist and she tucks both hands in between her legs. “I was more than that, I was a grandfather, at one point. My granddaughter, her name was Susan. She was my first companion.” The Doctor swallows thickly and looks away from Donna's face. “I taught her how to swim in that pool. She loved that pool. Out of every room in the TARDIS, that was the one she chose for herself.” The Doctor stops, takes a deep shuddering breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Didn’t feel right to just get rid of it.”

Donna watches him carefully, watches as his face smooths out and tears collect in his bottom lashes, so close to spilling over. He looks away and wipes his eyes and Donna pretends not to notice. “Do you do that for all your companions?” When he looks at her, brows furrowed, she expands. “Do you always remember stuff about them like that? Their favorite rooms and stuff?”

And though the Doctor no longer has tears on his face, the sadness in his eyes and in the lines of his face lingers. “Oh, yes.” He whispers. His smile is so soft and tender. It's heartbreaking to see. “Every single one of them. I know you humans have this idea that you’re not important, that you’re such a small part of the universe and of my life that you’re nothing more than a blip or a speck, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I carry each of them with me, all the time, in here.” The Doctor taps his temple with his index finger, before moving his hand down to rest over one of his hearts. “And in here. Every one of them has been more important than they realized.”

“Did you love them?” It might be an odd question, but Donna knows that the Doctor loved Rose, and even Martha, in his own way.

The Doctor tucks his hand into the crook of his elbow and rests his arm on the grating. He leans his head into the palm of his other hand and stares at Donna. “Yes,” he confirms. “All of them. I didn't love all of them the same, of course, but I did, yes.”

When she had asked about the pool, Donna wasn’t expecting it to lead to this. She wasn’t sure why the Doctor was being so willing to answer her questions right now, or why he was revealing so much about his past. Normally, the Doctor kept his most painful memories close to his chest, locked tight and sealed until they absolutely couldn’t be contained anymore. He revealed more in moments of duress and strife than at any other time, yet, here he was, answering Donna truthfully and honestly.

Maybe he had listened when she told him that he talked too much but said too little.

The openness in his eyes was beginning to make her uncomfortable, and she wasn’t sure she would like the answers she would get if she continued down this line of questioning. She decided to give him, and herself, a way out. “So what does that make me then? The big, useless, ginger house cat?”

The Doctor shakes his head and sighs. “I keep telling you you’re special, one day you’re going to believe me.”

“In your dreams, Spaceman.”

Before the Doctor can reply, the TARDIS gives a sickening lurch. Donna's hand shoots out to grasp the edge of the console to keep herself from falling forward. The Doctor is not so lucky. He jerks back, slamming his spine into the far edge of the hole he was standing in. He lets out a pained groan and leans forward to rest his forehead against the floor.

Once the TARDIS settles, Donna hesitantly releases her death grip on the console. “Doctor? You ok?”

He gives a brief thumbs up before he lifts his head from the floor. “I think that’s my cue to go finish those repairs. She's a little upset that I've left one of the stabilizers unplugged this long.”

And now that he’s mentioned it, Donna can feel a vague sense of irritation sitting just on the edge of her mind. When she turns her attention to it, the feeling fades into something soft and warm. “She's only upset with you,” She snorts. “She adores me.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes. “She's my ship, you can’t gang up on me like this!” He protests.

“Maybe if you didn’t hit her with a mallet!” Donna shoots back.

“Maybe if she’d behave I -” The TARDIS zaps him in retaliation. The Doctor jerks his hand away from the grating with a yelp and shakes out the remaining tingles. “Alright! I’m going!” He backs down the ladder with a sour look on his face. Just before he disappears from view completely, he looks back up at Donna. “You know that -” He cuts off abruptly, shakes his head and keeps climbing down. He opens his mouth, like he is going to say something, before he shakes his head and keeps climbing down.

Donna watches him walk into the depths of the TARDIS again and figures that’s the end of the conversation, for now, until the Doctor has finished whatever tinkering he was doing. She retrieves her magazine that she abandoned, tucks herself back under the console and lets the humming of the TARDIS and the Doctor’s unintelligible muttering wash over her.

It was a funny old world on the TARDIS, she mused. The Doctor hadn’t been lying, but there wasn’t another place she’d rather be.

#doctor who #donna noble #tenth doctor #10th doctor #donna & ten #this is an & story not a slash story for anyone worried #look if this sucks i don't wanna know BUT if it's good please tell me in extensive detail thanks <3 #i require constant validation and praise #yes i did take the two characters that bicker like a married couple in canon and wrote a soft scene between them #my fics

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bees-shitposting · 1 year

Text

Bees Short Story

“Do you believe in fate?” She asks with a smile she hides behind her cup of tea

“Why do you ask” Yang responds

“No reason.”

They didn’t happen quickly. She never really thought anything of their relationship. How they always fell together just seemed like another part of life.

Every minute together added to their lifetimes of being. She didn’t question how she felt about Yang because how she felt about Yang didn’t feel new.

It felt natural. It felt ancient. It felt like they’d already been this way for a life time, maybe even more.

So she fell into step next to her going to classes, she laughed at her jokes when everyone else rolled their eyes. Their souls fit together, she felt like she could put Yang on like a well worn jacket, she was so familiar. so comforting. It was in her nature to stand next to her.

They never really talked about it, how their gravity shifted when the other walked in the room, how they could always find the other- as if they had another sense meant entirely for knowing where they were.

Blake never gave how she felt a second thought. That is until The Fall.

It wasn’t until she was away from Yang that she realized that being with her was just as easy as breathing, and being without her… well it felt like drowning.

She couldn’t quite come to terms with it. How her world felt different, how her gravity changed and just pushed her into herself.

She could’ve never known she’d lived without Yang before all of this.

Yang felt it too. She felt the shift when she woke up. She didn’t really believe in fate anymore. Why would it design to make her feel like this?

If Blake’s gravity changed to push her into herself, yangs designed to tear her apart. To leave her ripped open and raw, vulnerable to anything and everything.

It’s a wonder that she relearns how to exist. How to stand without being pulled along by an invisible golden thread drawing her who knows where.

And it’s a wonder when that thread starts to tug at her again too.

It’s in the oddest moments, after she met back with Weiss. When she walked into haven with Ruby.

Through the fight her gravity changes. Until she sees her.

Neither of them say it when they come together again. It’s easier to ignore when they’re doing something. But their gravity is back.

They fall into stride, they have all their senses back. As much as it hurts, as the raw edges that had torn apart wear back together - it feels like breathing again.

And when they see Adam again. When time and space and fate all crash together and force them into this ugly, cruel scenario. It doesn’t feel like they’re falling apart.

It feels like they’re crashing together.

Crashing together how the tide crashes into rocks, how the sky meets the sea and the sun scatters its light across the water. Crashing together as if there’s no other way they could be, not for long anyways.

And then it’s calm.

The tide settles and rests on the rocks and the sun sinks beneath the waves and peace overcomes them.

Their lifetimes together leaked into every day, to every glance, every touch. Every quiet moment was filled with understanding.

Their rotation was fixed, their orbit was locked. And just as surely as the tides rose and fell they ebbed and flowed with each other. Every minute together adding to their lifetimes of being.

They don’t question their relationship, their relationship is as natural as breathing. But they can’t help but to think, should they?

It isn’t until Yang falls that Blake realizes it was too late to think, past time to ask.

It isn’t until Blake sees her again that her eyes light up and she realizes that she still can.

And it isn’t until they’re on a bridge over clouds, that they finally give into their gravity and fall together.

After they get back, when they finally have a moment to breathe, they sit over a cup of tea.

“Do you believe in fate?” Blake asks

“Yeah, I think I do”

#it’s not so much a story but more like a soulmate au #just like about their feelings in canon #idk man I’m in my feels rn #s/o to explosivesky on ao3 #fics got me in the feels #rwby #bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #rwby spoilers #rwby9 #rwby yang #rwby blake #let me 🐝 your bmblb #bmblb #rwby bmblb #short story #rwby short

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justwearthegoddamncardigan · 8 months

Note

Hi!! I absolutely love your maze runner stuff!! I was was wondering about how the glazers would react to a trans guy coming up from the box? Maybe he’s a bit on the quieter side (until you get to know him and then he’s just as mischievous as the rest of them) and enjoys art? Anyways sorry if this was vague or anything I didn’t see and requesting rules on your page! But yeah, love your work and I hope you have a great day!!

Hi! Thanks so much for requesting this one I had so much fun writing all my wholesome maze boys ❤❤❤ Hope you enjoyed :)

Yellow painted skies

Platonic gladers x trans masc!reader

Notes: I DIDN'T REALISE UNTIL I WROTE MOST OF A FIC THAT THIS WAS PROBABLY MEANT TO BE HEADCANON-FORMATTED. I rewrote it but I couldn't help but keep in the Minho scene so that's why that's there

Warnings: language (glader slang + normal swearing)

Newt

Your first friend, of course

Newt's the best guy and is so, so caring on your first day, and you quickly find comfort in him

He immediately supports you when you're struggling with some things on your first night

When you're grabbing clothes for a shower, he offers you a bunch of different shirts, including a really big, loose one if you want it, to make sure you're as comfortable as possible

If you've got a period, Newt's your go to guy. At first, you're anxious to ask about anything, but Newt's pretty intuitive and understands what you're looking for

He prepares strips of linen and clean fabrics since they don't have access to proper sanitary products

Plus, he's got all his subtle ways of making you more comfortable without bringing unwanted attention - he might pass you a hot water bottle before bed, or give you less demanding work while you're in the worst of it

---

Newt is kind to every new person that joins, and everybody loves him, but eventually most Greenies will find their own close friend circles within their jobs.

You're one of the first newbies in a while to actually stick with Newt

You're one of the few people that doesn't get on Newt's nerves every so often, and he's always relieved to see you after a long day

He'll sit down and cross his ankles over your legs when he's had a hard time, and you'll just talk and unwind

When neither of you can sleep, you'll find each other and just have profound, deep late night talks, which started right from your first day

---

Newt loves your art and finds it relaxing to just watch you draw, or paint

The two of you (and sometimes Minho and Frypan) can sit for hours in peaceful silence, just you sitting up with a sketchbook and the other guys sprawled out on the grass

He's picked up some art tips from you too, but he doesn't really paint to make art of any ground-breaking quality; he usually just splashes colours across a page for fun and to calm his mind, which- is so valid, of course

Minho

Minho didn't like you immediately, and he'd be honest about that too - you were a little too quiet for him

But one moment changed that for him (cue cutscene)

"This is the Map," says Minho, gesturing at the covered table. He's been giving you the Runners intro crash course, which is the first job the Gladers explain since most new guys aren't gonna be chosen for it. "You'll see it if you become a Runner." You nod again, as you've been doing a lot for the past few minutes. "Don't talk much, do you?" comments Minho, arms crossing over his chest as he looks at you appraisingly. "Minho," warns Newt. You blink at him, not really sure how to respond to that. "I-" "It's okay," interrupts Minho. "Just something to work on. Cause listen, Newt here can coddle you and the rest of the greenbeans all he wants, but the hard truth is that this ain't a place for some shank who isn't gonna speak up. We're a team, in the Glade. Everyone's part of the family. I just wanna clear this up now, let you know that if you don't open your mouth and use your voice, you're gonna have problems." "God- every shuckin' month," groans Newt, massaging his temples. "Now it's fine if you're just quiet," continues Minho, "But I just think it's best to know that you'll have a much better time here if you talk to people." Newt sighs. "Look, Minho's right, but you can take your time, okay? Settle in at your own rate." "Alright now, Greenie. Anything to say about the Runner's intro so far? Or just anything to say at all?" Fuck, okay. This is the start. Just say something funny, aim for levity. "Those drawings are shit," you say flatly, gesturing to the pencil sketches of the Maze you'd seen on the way in. Newt chokes. Minho blinks, before he bursts out in cackles. Oh, well that wasn't too hard. "You should really work on how the shadows turn out instead of just colouring it black," you continue, since insults are apparently the way to go. Minho starts wheezing, and you look to Newt expecting to see some amusement on his face, but he just looks shocked. "Those- those are my drawings," he manages to say. Your eyes widen, and your stomach drops. "Oh. Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I thought- oh my god." Minho's crying laughing by now, bending over and clutching his stomach. You jolt slightly as his hand lands on your shoulder. "Nevermind," he gasps out between snorts. "Forget what I said, you're gonna be fine here." You stare at Newt, mortified, but he just shakes his head, an amused expression forming on his face. "They are pretty shit, aren't they? It's alright, maybe you can replace them for us." Newt slings an arm around your shoulder as he leads you out of the hut. "C'mon, gardening intro's next. Minho, don't piss yourself," he adds, looking down with mock-disdain at his friend.

So... yeah. You guys pretty much just became friends after that

Except- okay, with Newt, you'd definitely developed a soft spot for him, and he seems to like you too, despite the way you insulted him pretty much to his face on your second day.

But with Minho, you've gotten the opposite of a soft spot for him

The two of you mainly thrive on mutual bitchiness, resulting in a friendship mainly consisting of eyerolls and snarky remarks

It works though, and you sit with him at every meal, always facing each other and playing some foot-kicking-game under the table, always with a straight face

He'll wait for you when his evening runs finish before dinner, and you'll wake up early to have breakfast with him and the Runners

He doesn't touch art himself, but he likes to sit with you and annoy you while you're meant to be having some peaceful time

To set the scene, it's usually Newt lying on his stomach watching as you sit in front your canvas (multiple pieces of paper stuck to a piece of wood), mixing paints, with Minho sitting beside you and making little comments

"Paint it yellow."

"That's the sky."

"It's sunny."

"The sky is still blue."

Idk I just think he'd make silly little comments for absolutely no reason

Also, you end up painting the sky yellow, and it fucking looks better

Frypan

After hearing from Newt that you liked art, Frypan started looking for materials for you, cause he always goes out of his way to make the Greenies as comfortable as possible

In his free time, he went out to crush up little plants and pigment rocks to experiment with mixing them with water and make paints and watercolours

Most people had decided that you seemed to just want to keep to yourself, including Frypan, but he saw you getting close and joking around with Newt and Minho, and knew that you would open up if only people gave you the chance

So he kept it slow, grinning at you when you go up for meals, until you started always smiling back at him, and you started hanging out on a regular basis

He's genuinely astounded by every piece of art you show him, whether it's a simple sketch of a random flower or a sunrise painting you'd spent days on (It's always "Shuck, Y/n. This is amazing!")

Gally

Gally is besties with Frypan (I will fight you on this)

So that's how you met him

He'd always be cool with you, just "sup, Greenie" every time you were both with Frypan at the same time

But then you started to build your own relationship with him too

You became friends when you started sketching architecture-y things for him, and he'd annotate little instructions on the drawings to hand out to the other builders

He's always just quietly impressed by your sketches, nodding and "thanks Greenie"

You actually become known as the 'art guy' around the Glade

The Medjacks will call you in to make pencil sketches of the plants and herbs for their little medicine book

You've always got Frypan's paint stained on your fingers, but it's a look

Thanks for reading <3

#the maze runner #platonic gladers x reader #newt x reader #minho x reader #frypan x reader #gally x reader #my writing

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alittlextrathatway · 4 months

Note

Line: "You gave me roses and I left them there to die." Location: firehouse

Another entry for the Hockey AU.

You can find the additional parts here and here.

***

After coffee that night, they start texting again. It’s a slow re-entry into knowing each other again, but it’s a start.

On one of his days off, he and Severide are invited to the firehouse for dinner. Sylvie says their garage sale committee has a proposal for them. Severide chuckles as his fiancé, Stella Kidd, sends him the exact same text.

“They’re gonna ask us to sign autographs in order to draw a crowd,” Kelly stated, smirking knowingly. “Watch. We’ll have a solid home cooked dinner and then Mouch and Herrmann are gonna try to swindle us into showing up.”

Mouch and Herrmann. Damn. Those are names he hasn’t heard in a while. “Maybe we should. The money from the garage sale helps struggling first responders and their families. Why not?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Severide replies with a sigh.

Matt grins and slaps his back as he finishes changing out for practice. “Come on, it’ll be fun. And it’s the right thing to do.”

Severide’s guess is spot on. After dinner, they’re presented with all the reasons they should show up and sign autographs at Firehouse 51’s annual garage sale. They save everyone time and agree before Herrmann and Mouch are done trying to sell them on the idea.

Afterward, Severide wanders off to find Stella, leaving Matt on his own. He hasn’t seen Sylvie’s face in a few days and he misses being near her so without much thought he finds himself searching the firehouse for her.

He finds her sitting on her bunk, reading a book. The ambo was out when he arrived and all through dinner. He isn’t even sure she knew he was there.

He leans against the half wall adjacent to her cot and clears his throat. “Reading anything good?”

Her head snaps up and her eyes immediately finding his. “Oh, wow. Talk about a blast from the past. Seeing you in the firehouse takes me back.”

“Me too,” he says, smiling through a twinge of regret in his gut. “It’s been too long. I shouldn’t have been away so long.”

She swallows thickly, glancing away from him to hide the sadness he knows he’ll see in her face. “No, you shouldn’t have. But you’re back now and we can’t change the past — no matter how much we may want to.” Scooting back in her cot, she pats the foot of the bed. “Have a seat.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to rethink the offer and sits immediately. “The last time I was here we were celebrating Thanksgiving while you were on shift.”

She smiles slowly as she recalls the day. “That was fun. You and Severide and Cindy Herrmann cooked the food while we went on calls. You looked adorable in an apron being bossed around by a badass midwestern mom.”

“Cindy’s sweet but she scares me a little bit. She has that disappointed mom look down. That’s a very sharp weapon when she wants it to be.”

“Accurate,” Sylvie agrees with a soft chuckle. “And that hasn’t changed a bit.”

“And then apart from that, I think the last time I even saw this place was…” Oh god, why did he bring this up? “Over FaceTime on your birthday after I first moved to Vegas.”

A mere four months before they broke up.

“Right, you sent me roses.”

He has to work hard to withhold a wince. In truth, he didn’t send those. His assistant did. He got caught up in his practice schedule and team events and completely forgot. At the last minute, he asked his assistant to send Sylvie flowers to the firehouse, not thinking to specify her favorite flower — gerbera daisies. So, his assistant sent a very generic bouquet of red roses. Which she received while they were on FaceTime together. Her face told him she saw straight through the gesture. She knew he had phoned it in.

“Yeah, I did,” he confirms with a forced smile.

“Full disclosure,” she says, guilt briefly flashing across her face. “I didn’t take them home. I left them on the coffee table in the common room. I think I even forgot to water them. They didn’t last long.”

Is it ironic that a symbol of how he neglected her ended up being neglected too?

He scoffs and shakes his head, at his past self and not at her. Never at her. “I don’t blame you. I didn’t exactly give you my best effort that day.”

“No, you didn’t. But I never told you it hurt me. I could have,” she says, gnawing on the inside of her lip. “But I didn’t want to rock the boat. I thought if I did I’d lose you faster.”

“I’m the one that lost you, Sylvie. You never lost me. Make no mistake about that,” he assures her. Hell, to this very day, he’s still hers.

“Never?” She asks with a brow lifted in his direction. He thinks he can see a flirtatious glint in her blue eyes but it’s tempered by her downturned mouth. It makes her incredibly hard to read.

“Never,” he repeats.

“If you could do that day over again,” she begins, a melancholy grin tugging at one corner of her mouth. “What would you do different?”

“Order gerbera daisies to be sent to the firehouse and then arrange to fly back here to see you on my days off. We should have celebrated your birthday together, even if it was belated.”

Her breath catches in her throat as she listens and then a slow satisfied smile spreads over her lips — replacing the melancholy completely. “Good answer.”

“Speaking of do-overs,” he says, inhaling and exhaling slowly while he gathers his courage. “Maybe I could take you out and we could have a little more than a coffee?”

“Is that you’re way of asking me for a date?”

He chuckles at her wry smile as she calls him out. “Yes, it is.”

“In that case,” she begins, rolling her lips and setting aside her book. “I’d love to. How about tomorrow night?”

“Impatient, huh?” He teases.

She laughs and smacks his arm. “Shut up. You know you are too. I’m a fantastic date.”

He grabs her hand as she tries to pull it away and holds it in both of his, beaming brightly at her. “You’re the best date. And tomorrow night would be perfect.”

After years of believing she’d always be the one that got away, he can wait one more day. But after that, he’s never letting her get away again.

#brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey #matt casey x sylvie brett #furrynachosublime #prompt fic #my fic #angellwings writes

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 2 years

Text

WELL HELLO, SWEETHEART

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Shy!Henderson!reader

Summary: what if Eddie took a liking in a different Henderson even before Dustin came?

Warnings: none

Eddie watched as the elder Henderson walked past their table, Books tightly in her grasp as she hurried to her own table and friends. He had being eyeing her for years now, but she payed no attention, not once had she ever talked or wasted her time with the freak of Hawkins High.

But Dustin adored Eddie, he would come out of his way to help the older boy and give him ideas for campaigns and songs even if he knew Eddie made them great anyway.

Eddie locked his eyes on her back as she sat down, making everyone on her table look up and smile at her, she didn’t have much friends. Only 3, one of them being Robin Buckley but that didn’t matter, it's not like he was Mr popular at school, but it still put a smile on his face to see her have close friends that she could trust, even if he wasn't one of them.

"Hey, Henderson?" Eddie asked his younger friend. Making the boy look up immediately.

"Yes, Eddie"

"Do you tell your sister about me? Or us ever?" Eddie asked him

"Well um. Not much but I've told her you're the DM of the club and some other stuff I guess" the curly headed boy shrugged

"So nothing about me?" Eddie glared. Not in a mean way but to look more serious than usual.

"Well yeah, I figured she would already know you since you're in the same year and all" Dustin said.

"You would think. But, no" Eddie laughed sarcastically while standing up and walking slowly over to the boy.

"After everything I've done for you guys, the endless campaigns, the taking you under my wing, would you find it in your hearts to...repay my somehow?" Eddie somewhat suggested.

"I mean yeah, sure. What is it?" The Wheeler boy smiled politely

"Put a good word in from me to her, would you?" Eddie replied, picking the boys up by the shoulders

"To who? Y/n?" Dustin stuttered at Eddie's sudden movements.

"Yeah. And while you're at it, go find Lucas, we cant let him be taken to the dark side. Yeah? Ok, go" Eddie demanded, pushing the boys away from him.

"Hey Y/n" your younger brother, Dustin greets as you dig through your locker, trying to find your sketch book. You look back and see him and Mike looking a bit distressed as they smile at you awkwardly

"Hi? What do you want?" you smile tightly, exaggerating the 'hi'

"Did you know Eddie gets great grades. He's super smart" Mike moves his hands as he speaks.

"Then how come he's repeated senior year twice" you say, puzzled and confused

"He repeated?" The raven head laughs, acting clueless to his friends failure in education

"Ok seriously, what do you guys what, I don’t have time for this" you shut your locker as you found your sketch book and turn to face them fully.

"Nothing. We just wanted to tell you how great he is. He's amazing, i- we think you'd love him" Dustin nods vigorously

"Sure, Dusty. I'm happy that you found a great friend but he cant be that amazing" you roll your eyes.

Truth is, you found yourself looking at The Munson Boy a lot, whether it was in the hall, Across the cafeteria or in class. You couldn't help it. You found yourself thinking about him before going to bed and it weirded you out to say the least. The first and last time you talked to him is when he bumped into you in the hallway while you we're a sophomore and he was a junior. You wouldn't actually classify it as talking cause all you said to each other was muffled 'sorry's' but you still counted it, yet you don't get why you care if it was talking or not. You knew a lot more than your brother and friends thought you knew about Eddie.

it wasn't your fault you asked the teacher to make you switch seats to sit next to him, was it? It wasn’t your fault you look at his doodles he draws on his desks. It wasn’t you fault for looking for him at pep rallies, you knew he wouldn't be there, but it was worth trying. It wasn’t your fault you couldn't keep your eyes off him when near him. It wasn’t your fault.

"Come on. I bet you have a lot in common!" Dustin pleads for God knows what.

"No. We really don't" you lied

As much as you would like to admit. You liked all the metal bands he did: Metallica, Dio, Wasp, Mötley Crüe.

You liked playing DnD. You played a lot in middle school. Got to level 29 but suddenly stopped playing as the satanic panic flew over. You didn’t want to be known as a freak. You were actually the boys Dungeon master for some time, so you had a lot of experience with the game.

“you don’t even know him yet, you don’t know that” Dustin complains like a child

“why do you care so much if I like him or not, Dusty. I don’t like him so just leave it alone” you say defensively and walk away from the boys.

from a distance you could hear Dustin scowl at Mike for making the mistake of telling you Eddie had good grades and acting like an idiot when you said he had repeated twice.

You enter your class for the last period and sit down at your desk at the very back where the seat next to you, where Eddie was supposed to be, stayed unoccupied. You sigh and lay your head down on the desk, already bored out of your mind and just tired.

Everyone piles in the classroom and takes their seats with their friends and you stare at the door, not exactly sure what your waiting for, because he barely comes to class anyway but you still wait, just in case.

But he doesn't. Twelve minutes into the lesson and his seat still stays empty.

You start to fall asleep in your chair as a sudden open of the door interrupts the lesson.

"Well, nice of you to join us, Mister Munson" Miss O'donnell says annoyed.

"Yeah, yeah" Eddie mutters under his breath as he passes you to get to his seat.

You look down and your desk with your sketch book open on the only empty page left. The pen in your hand connects with your page and starts doodling random things here and there and soon enough you have a full page of hearts, stars, flowers and bees. A weird combination of drawings on one page but that didn't bother the person watching you.

Eddie found it cute how your tongue peaked out when you were so concentrated on your doodles and when he realised you sighed in a wasted last page of what used to be real sketches of people, animals and things, to now be your subconscious hearts and stars.

He watched you as you shut your book and look up at the boring lecture and finally pay attention.

He didnt want to stop looking at you and after the freshmen told him they had not only failed but made themselves look like idiots, he gave that idea up and wanted to give a good impression himself, if they couldn't do, he should do it.

Eddie stretches his arm out to lay in front of you. Making his sleeve go up more to leave you with a perfect size canvas of his arm to draw on. You look down at his gesture and then back at him, to be met with the side of his face as he looks at the front of the room. Trying to hide how nervous he would be.

"Go ahead, draw" he whispers, still looking ahead but moving his hand toward you more.

You smile sheepishly at him and pick your pen up again and draw on him, trying to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to hurt him in the slightest.

You have no idea what it was supposed to be while drawing it but when you look up to see if he's ok you see him already looking down at you, giving you a slight smile, you look back down at his arm in embarrassment and continue drawing lines and curves, shading some in and leaving some blank, to give some depth just to make it look half way decent.

The end of the day bell rings and you get up, packing your things and rushed out of there, not waiting for him to say it's bad or he doesn't like it.

You open your locker and put your stuff in for tomorrow, you drop your pen on the floor and bend down to get it and when you get back up your met with him in front of you.

"Well hello, Sweetheart" he beams at you

"Oh- Hi" you look away and place your pen away, Shutting the door of your locker.

"The drawing looks really cool. You're really good" he compliments

"Oh uh, thanks" you begin to walk away, not slow but enough so he can walk with you. You look down at his on show arm to see the dragon on his arm.

"So um. Dustin told me you play. You should join us sometime, it would be fun" he suggested

"I haven't actually played in a while" you laugh awkwardly

"That's fine. No one would mind, he just told me you were really good so I wanted to put you to the test" he shrugs

"I'll think about it" you say quietly

"You don't have to if you don't want to, I mean I get it, you wouldn't want to get called a freak like me and all, I just thought it would be fun to have you there" he shook his head in embarrassment and looks down his feet

"No it's not that, I just- I dont think you're a freak" you mess up your train of thought and stutter

"You don't?" He looks up, a bit shocked

"No, I don't really get why they even call you that to be honest" you murmur but he still manages to hear you. Making him smile in content

"Well thank you, that um, that means a lot coming from you" he smirks, opening the door to his van.

"You have a way to get home?" He asks hopefully

"Yep" I nod

"Ok. I'll see you later then" he starts the engine and winds the window down.

"I'll play" I tell him making him look at me while slowly back out of his spot

"Yeah?"

"Yeah" I smile

"Well our new campaign starts tomorrow so, you could come then if you want" he suggests

"Yeah sure" I agree

"Great. I'll see you then" he says and heads off

As I walk back over to my car I see Dustin already waiting for me on the passenger side

"I knew you liked him" he smirks

"Who said I liked him?" I unlocked the car and waited for him to get in before starting it.

"Come on. The way you were looking at him! You totally like him" he crosses his arms

"Do not!" I yell loudly before driving out of the car park

"Yes you do" he smiles

"Fine! I do, ok, there" I sigh in frustration

"He likes you too" he giggles like a kid

_______

This is so bad omg😀🤣.

Hope you enjoyedddddd

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total-drama-takes-takes-2 · 9 months

Text

tta episode 2

“Last time on Total Takes Action: we welcomed fourteen campers back for a brand new season on an abandoned film lot here in Toronto, Canada! The first challenge of terror was making it to the trailers while facing five waves of torture in an apocalypse-themed episode- Frollo took the fall during a wave that should’ve been right up his alley, and Scary won for the Animation Anons. Who will win today? And who will be the first to get properly eliminated? Find out now, on Total! Takes! Action!”

---

BONNIE: “Well, so far, this blows. I’m not even sure if I want to win this thing. I mean, I did last season, then Caesar and Courtney… it sucked getting booted the way I did, but I kinda figured out that this really isn't worth the cash,”

---

The craft services tent is quiet this morning as the respective teams keep to themselves, just about everyone giving each other sideways glances and avoiding conversation. Even Bonnie and Caesar are silent as Caesar merrily hums to himself, drawing a portrait of his face on a napkin while Bonnie glares daggers in everyone else’s directions.

---

BONNIE: “But, if this show has taught me anything, it’s that everyone who’s not with you is against you. I’m not risking relying on everyone else’s goodwill not to get randomly kicked out again,”

---

“What’s stuck up their arse, am I right, baby?” Austin nudges Kelly. They giggle and share a deep kiss.

Scary rolls their eyes at the display and picks up their tray, moving around to Scruffy’s side of the table. Joner, McLovin, and Sha-Mod are all shoving each other around, giving each other noogies and wet willies. Joner flicks a bit of scrambled egg at McLovin, who stands in response, holding a spoonful of wet oatmeal. “Food fight!”

Scary stands, slamming their fists on the table and growling at the three. Their smiles drop and they sit back down in unison.

McLovin and Sha-Mod hold hands and go back to quietly talking, while Joner gives them a slightly uncomfortable look. He glances across the room to where Michela is sitting between O and Fren. She glares and he looks away, guilty.

O watches the display and turns to Michela. “You know, it’s not good to bottle up your emotions like that. My therapist- Dr. Anderson- says that stress can irreversibly damage your digestive track!”

Fren tries to scoop up a spoonful of the cement Chef served with the eggs and oatmeal. “Not sure I need stress for that,”

“Attention, campers! Or- should I say- players?” Chris’ voice chuckles over the intercom. “Meet me on the old west set in five!”

The campers give each other nervous glances.

---

Chris stands in front of a tall, mismatched set of wooden planks and ramps that Chef is still hammering together. The entire structure, resembling an apartment fire escape or a construction rafter, is cobbled together with planks of wood, metal sheets, tarp, and a variety of other materials. It sways in the wind.

“Today’s challenge is based on a relatively recent subgenre of movie- the video game adaptation!”

“Sweet!” McLovin and Sha-Mod say in unison.

“Y-yeah, sweet!” Joner says out of sync, weakly pumping his fist. Michela rolls her eyes.

O raises an eyebrow and rubs his chin. “I try not to play too many violent games anymore- Dr. Anderson says it can negatively affect the brain- but if I had to guess… this is-”

“Ah!” Chris holds out a finger. “We don’t have the rights to actually say the game names. This is the first part of our challenge- I call it Dolphin King!”

Peter looks up at the top of the structure, where an intern zips up a large monkey suit. “If this is a dolphin game, why is everyone dressed like-”

“SHUSH!” Chris hisses. “Dolphin King!”

Peter winces as if Chris is about to lunge for his throat. Scary rolls her eyes. Kelly and Austin giggle behind her, feeding each other toast from the craft services tent.

“Your goal is to reach the top of this platform without getting hit by any of these barrels. If you get knocked off the ramps, you have to start from the bottom. First team up wins a special advantage for the next part of the challenge,” he chuckles. “Ready? Set? Play!”

Scary cartwheels over to the start and goes first, Fren, O, Bonnie, and Caesar not far behind.

Joner glances at McLovin and Sha-Mod. “Friendship cuffs?” he grins, holding up his bracelet.

“Uh… actually, we talked about it last night, and we don’t think the cuffs are a good idea anymore,” Sha-Mod says.

McLovin sucks in his breath and nods. “Yeahhh. We’re actually gonna take this one alone, if that’s cool with you,”

Joner forces a smile. “Y-yeah. That’s fine! You guys need your alone time, right? Romance and all that…”

“Thanks for understanding!” McLovin shouts as they start off.

Joner sighs, his shoulders slouching as O screams in terror and falls off the platform, landing behind him. Michela passes by, tying her parka around her waist. Joner watches her as if he wants to say something, but he lets her go.

---

JONER: “I’m always happy for my friends, honest! It’s just that… after a year of third-wheeling behind McLovin and Michael, having to do the same exact thing but with Sha-Mod is… tough. I was really hoping we could all be friends, but… I get romance is more important,”

---

Peter, Standing beside Kelly and Austin, pulls a picture out of his shirt pocket and smiles.

Kelly and Austin pause their make out session to leer over his shoulder. “Who’s the bird, mate?”

“Ooh, I love her hair!” Kelly chips. Peter nods.

“This is my girlfriend! I carry her picture with me for good luck,” he says merrily.

Scary yelps from above and is thrown off the platform, landing on their feet with a huff.

---

SCARY: “Luck isn’t real. Someone here is obviously a little rusty in their chaos theory 101,”

---

Scruffy stands at the base of the platform, biting their nails and looking up. Scary runs past, doing a backflip over a barrel. “What’s up?” they ask as Scruffy inches along the platform, as far to the edge as manageable.

“N-nothing!” they insist.

---

SCRUFFY: “Okay, so, maybe I was expecting these challenges to be the same as the original TDA. How was I supposed to know the team was getting creative?!”

---

Fren runs alongside Peter, shoving barrels off the platform as they roll down rather than dodging them. “I got your back!” he yells. Peter gives him a grateful look before a barrel flies down, taking him straight off the platform.

McLovin and Sha-Mod do perfect jumps over every incoming obstacle, laughing merrily. They fist bump right as a flaming barrel soars overhead, ducking just in time for it to nail Fren behind them.

“Jeez!” McLovin yells.

Sha-Mod helps him up. “Yeah, I don’t remember this in the original game,”

“Oh, there’s a lot more of that coming!” Chris shouts into his megaphone.

McLovin and Sha-Mod run up, reaching the top of the platform. Scary cartwheels up seconds later, and Scruffy follows, covering their eyes. They take their hands off their face and sigh in relief. “I made it!”

“Come on, Kelly!” McLovin shouts.

“Go, Austin!” McLovin yells after.

“Joner, get your ass up here NOW!” Scary screams.

Bonnie and Caesar reach the top, the latter trying to pat out a fire on the former’s hoodie sleeve. Fren, holding Peter’s wrist, drags him to the top and everyone cheers. He drops Peter to the floor for a quick pose.

---

FREN: "People love me. Online, I have my own subfandom called the Frendom. I'm basically their god which is... a little weird to think about. But I might as well soak up that attention like a sponge while it's good,"

---

“JONER!” Scary yells.

“A-almost there!” he cups his mouth to yell back as a barrel with dynamite strapped to the side flies past him, blowing up a portion of the platform behind him. Michela jumps over the gap, but O, right behind her, falls to the bottom. She sighs, slowing before turning around and running back down to get him.

“Come on, guys!” Bonnie yells. “Let’s get this over with!”

“Working on it!” Michela yells, hoisting O on her back. She starts running up the platform again, huffing.

“You don’t need to work yourself too hard, you know,” O says casually. “You can always ask for help.”

“Whatever,”

---

O: “I’ve decided to take on Michela as my own personal project. After my time with Dr. Anderson, I’ve decided that my future is in therapy- and who better to test my skills on than the most emotionally tormented person here!”

---

Kelly and Austin reach the top of the platform, holding hands. Scary groans as they start making out again. “Don’t you two have a personality outside of each other?”

“Nope!” They say merrily. Scary rolls their eyes.

Scruffy nudges her. “Next boot for sure,”

“Come on, Joner!” McLovin shouts as Michela and O catch up to their teammate.

The race to the end is tense, but as Joner looks at Michela glaring back at him, he pushes himself forward and passes the finish line, winning for the team.

“And the Animation Anons win the first leg!” Chris says. “As a reward, and for your next challenge, you get these- night vision goggles!”

The Fujoshis look at each other nervously.

---

The teams stand before a door leading to a dark building.

“I’m sure you all remember the hunter and deer competition from last season!” Chris says. “This is like that- but in the dark! I call this challenge Puck-Guy!”

Chef walks between the teams, passing out different colored ponchos.

“Half of your team will be the ghouls, and their job will be to hunt the Puck-Guys,” Chris explains. “Whichever team has the most surviving Puck-Guys wins the challenge, and today’s episode.”

Michela, Caesar, and O look at their pink, blue, and orange ponchos, and Kelly, Austin, and McLovin stare at theirs.

“RIght groovy, baby!” Austin beams, throwing the clothing over his head. “Pink is my color!”

“And blue is so mine!” Kelly chirps. The two stare at each other for a moment before making out again.

“We’re so dead,” Scary sighs. “McLovin, this is on you.”

McLovin swallows nervously. Sha-Mod pats him on the back. “You got this, babe,”

“Yeah, you got this!” Joner laughs nervously. Michela rolls her eyes.

---

MICHELA: "Everyone knows that McLovin is a terrible shot. Despite being Mr. Lovable back home, no one can deny he shoots a gun like he's blindfolded and being attacked by raccoons,"

---

“Puck-Guys, you get a five minute head start. Ready?”

Scary, Scruffy, Joner, and Sha-Mod adjust their night vision goggles.

“Go!”

The designated huntees run inside, leaving only six players out. O turns to Michela as she loads her paintball gun.

“Thinking about anything in particular?” he asks.

She shrugs. “Sucks that McLovin isn’t a deer- Puck-Guy, whatever. So I’m going for Joner first,”

“Have you considered talking about your feelings with Joner and McLovin?”

She gives him a weird look.

Chris fires off a gun, forcing everyone to cover their ears. “Go!”

The hunters run inside, Caesar in the lead. He comes to an abrupt stop. “Um, is this-”

“A maze? You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Michela sighs. “Come on, let’s split.”

“I’ll stick with Michela,” O puts a hand on her shoulder and she raises an eyebrow at him.

Caesar shrugs and jogs off in the opposite direction, squinting in the dark. McLovin stands in the entrance, adjusting the settings on his goggles while Kelly and Austin’s pairs are tossed to the side as they make out.

“Gear up,” McLovin says, turning to them. They don’t budge. He takes a deep breath and puffs out his chest. “Alright. It’s on me!”

He runs into the maze, leaving the two making out at the entrance.

“Did you say something?” Kelly asks, turning. “Oh. I guess the game started.”

“Let’s crush this, baby yeah!” Austin loads his gun.

---

Peter walks through the maze, a few feet behind Bonnie. Every time they stop, her stops, too. Every time they turn, he turns as well.

Bonnie finally sighs. “Are you lost?”

He shakes his head.

“Listen, following me around like a lost puppy makes us a huge target. Split up!”

---

BONNIE: “Maybe I can do this team some good by knocking some sense into their heads,"

---

Scruffy and Scary walk through the dark, scanning their surroundings with the goggles.

“These are neat. High quality?” Scruffy asks, tapping the side of theirs.

“Doubt it. When I worked for Chris, I did a lot of receipt filing. He buys in bulk,”

A creaking around the corner catches their attention. The two pause, backing up a bit. Suddenly, a figure jumps around the corner and a slew of paintballs fires, dousing the both of them in green paint.

“Hey!” Scary yells. “We’re on your team, idiot!”

“Oops,” McLovin says. “It’s hard to tell with this thing on my face.”

Scary grumbles.

---

Michela and O stalk through the maze, guns loaded.

"So, when Joner took McLovin’s side over yours, that must’ve been tough, huh?” O whispers. “You can talk about it with me, you know. I’m bound by law not to tell anyone unless you’re a danger to yourself or others.”

“What?” she hisses.

“I’m just saying, your feelings are safe with me!”

“What’s your damage, dude?”

They turn a corner and gasp. Michela jogs to the end of the hall and picks up the goggles that Kelly and Austin abandoned on the ground. “What idiot-” she grins. “Nevermind. Let’s win this thing.”

---

Bonnie turns a corner and walks up to a dead end. They sigh. “This is so dumb. I should find Caesar,”

Suddenly, a paintball flies past their ear and hits the wall behind them. They gasp and duck as more fire, but it’s too late- Kelly and Austin turn the corner and grin, high-fiving.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Bonnie sighs, swiping the green paint off their hoodie.

---

Scary and Scruffy sit against the wall, talking quietly. Before they can even realize what’s going on, a slew of blue paintballs cover the drying green stains on their clothing. Michela and O run past, high-fiving as well.

Joner follows, trudging by while he drips blue. “You too, huh?”

Scary rolls her eyes.

---

“Okay, this is fun,” O says, reloading his gun.

“Now you’re getting it!” Michela grins. “Not every problem can be solved with that fancy therapy talk. Not everyone is a words person. Some of us like action.”

She holds up her gun and fires three times, hitting the exact center of an air duct each shot. O whistles. “You got some good aim,”

“Never shot a gun before, huh?”

The two start walking again, adjusting their goggles.

“Nah, I grew up in the city out west. Almost no one has a gun,”

“Can’t even imagine,” Michela shakes her head. “Where we’re from- me, Joner, and McLovin, I mean- everyone knows how to shoot by age eleven. Unless you’re McLovin. He has terrible aim.” she chuckles.

As if on cue, McLovin jumps out from around the corner and fires.

“Hey! We’re hunting, you jerk!” Michela yells.

O shoots him back, covering him in blue. “Take that!”

“Go, O! Get him!”

McLovin’s smile drops and he turns and runs, Michela and O in close pursuit.

They run down the hall, laughing as they fire at his back. They turn the corner and McLovin crashes into Sha-Mod, sending them both to the ground. Michela and O high-five and shoot them both.

“And the Fujoshis win!” Chris’ voice blares over the maze’s hidden speakers. “Anons- I’ll see you at the ceremony tonight!”

---

“Anons- this awards ceremony marks a historic occasion. This is TTA’s first ever elimination… and the lucky loser will go down in history as the lamest loser to ever lose! Let’s see… Sha-Mod,”

Chris tosses him a gilded Chris statue. He ducks, and it smushes against the row behind him, dripping brown. “Please tell me that’s chocolate,”

“It’s chocolate,” Scruffy says nonchalantly. "Unless... that's different, too?"

“Scary and Scruffy,”

“Kelly and Austin,”

Joner and McLovin glance at each other nervously.

“McLovin- your poor aim and nonexistent critical thinking skills cost your team the win. Hell, Kelly and Austin weren’t even wearing goggles and they got more shots than you!” Chris says. McLovin frowns. “And Joner, you almost lost the first leg of the challenge for your team- however, only one of you is going home. And that person… is…”

The team watches them nervously.

“McLovin. You’re out, dude,”

McLovin sighs and stands, his head hanging. Joner breathes a sigh of relief, then looks guilty. “Sorry, dude!”

“It’s fine! I had a good run,” he says, walking to the carpet of shame. He turns one last time to wave goodbye to Sha-Mod. “Goodnight, sweet prince.”

Kelly and Austin aw.

“Oh, brother,” Scary grumbles.

“Who will be shot next? And who will be doing the shooting? Find out next time, on Total! Takes! Action!”

#tta #total takes action

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