#when you get older you realize sitting downstairs watching tv with your parents actually makes them happy

[simgerale]

HI EVERYONE

biggest kisses, biggest hugs!!!! <3333 i just wanted to give an update and say i’m alive and well and only finding inspiration for sims 4 when im nowhere near my computer 🙃

loving all the simblreen edits and gifts i’ve seen!!! you all ROCK and are doing so amazing.

would have liked to hop on the floating head trend with your Regal favorites but alas, will have to wait a little longer!!

there WILL be a mermaidia challenge, rest assured!!!!!! not abandoning it!! 😤

also been feeling inspo to go back to my legacy which is cool!! too many things on my brain, let me tell you

final point (literally): i’m not going anywhere and i hope you all will stick around to find joy in silly sim stories with me! 🧡☺️

[asteriismos]

toxic - bill denbrough

request :

ok great! so can you write something about being Stan's sister and liking bill and at a sleepover at the readers house bill sneaks in the readers room and  they have some fun? -💒

words : 3.1k

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the first time that you noticed your older brother stanley’s friends checking you out was in your junior year of high school. richie tozier called you hot, which earned him a giant smack on the back of the head from stan. that was a year ago, right when your brother and his friends graduated and were getting ready to go to college. 

you had to admit that senior year sucked without your brother at home to keep you company. all you had was your mom and dad which got a little annoying sometimes because there was no one your age in the household. but it was summer and stanley was coming back for it, finally curing your boredom and helping you slowly pack to make your own adventure towards college.

the second that stanley was home, you jumped on him, tackling you into a hug that you’ve never given your big brother before. he was happy to be back home, and neither of you would admit it, but you two missed each other a whole lot. he asked you how senior year went since he last saw you during winter break and came down for a day for your graduation. after you two caught up, he said he needed to get ready to go to the diner with the rest of his friends that got in town. 

you sat on the bottom of the stairs, texting your friend group chat about some party that was going on in a week just a little outside of derry. the doorbell rang softly and you sprung onto your feet, taking a few steps towards the door and opening it. 

standing right outside the door was bill denbrough, standing at least a few inches taller than you dressed in a black t shirt and jeans. and damn did he look good. you always had a little bit of a crush on bill mostly because he was the nicest to you out of the friend group and didn't always treat you like a little kid, and because he had a massive growth spurt his freshman year. now he wasn’t the same looking bill that used to play toy action figures with your brother. bill was hot as hell.

you bit your lip, smiling up at him and leaning against the doorframe. “hey, bill,” you greeted, taking in his sculpted jawline and his messy auburn hair. he gave you a grin and his green eyes met yours, nodding a little bit in greeting, “hey, y/n. you l-look good.”

“so do you, denbrough,” you said, pushing the door open all the way to let him in the house. “stan should be down in a few minutes. I think he’s just getting dressed or something, you know how he is.” 

bill laughed, “yeah. makes s-sense. how was derry while n-none of us were here?” he leaned against the now closed door and for a moment you saw his eyes dart along your body, taking in your appearance. you shivered a little bit. 

“it was okay. glad that I'm going to college. how was your year?” you asked him. 

“better than here.”

you hummed, opening your mouth to say something else but being cut off by a door opening upstairs. stan appeared at the top of the stairs, waving his hands at his childhood friend and walking down with a little jump in his step. he pushed past you and hugged bill, making you roll your eyes as stan said something about how much he missed big bill. you sat back down on the bottom step. 

stanley motioned over to you. “hope she didn’t annoy you too much.”

“screw you stan,” you said with a laugh, shaking your head. 

bill shook his head, walking with your brother to the door. stan walked out first and before he walked out behind him, bill winked at you, closing the door. you felt yourself redden a small bit, shaking your head and trying to cleanse your mind of any naughty things you were thinking about doing with your brothers best friend. 

- 

a few days went by and the more you tried to not think about bill, the more you felt your mind drift to him. you didn’t know where these thoughts were spurring from, especially because you knew that if you ever did anything with bill, stanley would kill both of you. still though, the thoughts of bill didn’t subside. 

you were sitting in your room when you heard the door open from downstairs, the laughs and voices of several people filling your house. now you understood why your parents had told you to just order takeout. stan was having all of his friends over. you decided to hide in your room, mostly because you weren’t the closest with stan’s friends ( you hung out with bev and richie a few times ). and also because you didn’t want to intrude and piss stan off. you knew that he needed his alone time with his friends. after all, he hasn’t seen them in almost a year. 

bill, on the other hand, was looking forward to seeing you. he didn’t know why, but he had always liked you a little bit more than a person should for their best friends sister. he knew that stanley would have him castrated if he ever did anything, which is why he kept his hands off. 

that didn’t mean that he couldn’t stare at you though. 

and bill did stare at you a lot. shamelessly and without hesitation because well, you were hot. and you weren’t like the other girls in derry who started throwing themselves at him once he started playing baseball freshman year, you were just the same with him. sweet. innocent in a way. 

stan’s innocent sister. he had to remind himself of while he sat on the living room couch. bill was thinking off into space, not tuned into the conversation at all. but you weren’t really that innocent. he knew that. there was a rumor that went around school for a while that he caught wind of, something about you with this other guy on his baseball team. bill remembered the way that his hand clenched up and the slight anger that bubbled up inside him when he heard it, and he also remembered dropping his baseball bat ‘accidentally’ on the guy’s foot later that day. 

while upstairs, you could hear bill talking in the living room, and you felt yourself get a little bit too excited at the idea of him in your house. it wasn’t hard to imagine him in your room, in your bed, under the sheets with you . . . the overwhelming feeling made you clench your thighs together to alleviate the pressure that was building up. 

you wanted him. 

you wanted him so bad. 

and you were determined to get him. 

dressed in one of stan’s old baseball shirts that he gave you when he initially moved into his college dorm, you started walking downstairs to the kitchen. the shirt reached just to the middle of your thighs, enough to keep suspicions of ulterior motives from your brother, but also enough to catch the attention of a certain auburn haired best friend of his as well. 

the kitchen was left of the stairs, meaning that whomever was in the living room would only see you for a few moments until you turned the corner. your feet padded on the wood flooring of the main floor, taking a chance by glancing into the living room. you saw bill sitting there, initially laughing and looking at whatever richie seemed to be doing in front of the tv. his head tilted back in another fit of laughter and when it came back up, his eyes landed on you. it didn’t take long for them to wander elsewhere, and you just gave him a sweet smile, turning your back to him and sauntering into the kitchen. 

the second you grabbed a glass of water and made your way back towards the stairs, you knew that bill was waiting to see you again. you didn’t even have to turn and look at him, only taking your time walking up the stairs and back into the confines of your room, watching the minutes tick away on the clock. if you had played your cards right, bill may pay a visit to your room. 

it was torture having to wait for the hours to pass by, until finally you started to hear less and less talking happening downstairs. there were only a few of them up, and from the voices, you deduced that it was mike and stan, you didn’t hear bill at all. perhaps you were thinking too fully of yourself, bill actually didn’t want you in that way. 

the voices stopped, you were seemingly the only person awake in the house. 

you slid to the edge of your bed, just about to stand up to turn your lights off when you heard a light knock on your door. it was so light that for a moment you weren’t even sure it was a knock at all. a few seconds passed by and there was another knock, and you realized that someone was indeed at your door. 

with a small ‘come in’ from you, the door opened, bill walking into your room. he was in checkered pajama bottoms and a shirt with his college logo on it, closing the door softly and leaning against it. you gave him a small smile, uncrossing your legs and cocking an eyebrow up. 

“you know, s-stan is very protective of y-you,” bill said in a soft voice, keeping his focus on you. 

you shrugged. “he’s my big brother, what do you expect?”

bill laughed, getting off of the door and walking closer to you. for a moment you thought that he was going to get on top of you right then and there with no further talk, but instead he only stood before you a few feet away. there was a dramatic height difference between the two of you because you were sitting down. the sight of him towering over you made you squeeze your thighs together again, which you thought was discreet. but by the looks of it, bill noticed your little motion. 

“it p-pisses me off t-though,” he went on to say. 

“why’s that?” 

“b-because you’re h-hot”

you smirked, leaning in just a little bit towards him. he was just standing there in front of you, his eyes so intense that you knew any movement you did wouldn’t go undetected. so in a surge of confidence, you opened your mouth to say, “is it driving you crazy?”

there was no response with words, only bill leaning in to close the gap between you two and kissing you. it was harsh, the force enough to push you back from your previous sitting up position. your hands moved up to cup his cheeks and his kept himself up while he pushed his body against yours, your back pressing against your soft mattress. 

his lips moved against yours while one of his hands came up to your sides, but you pulled away. just for a moment, so that you could push yourself up from the edge of the mattress, your head falling onto the pillows. bill moved with you, grinning like a kid at a candy store when you pulled him by the neck to kiss him again. 

it felt good, more than good really . . . it felt like the best thing in the world. you’ve been with only a few people like this before, and bill was the first one that really made you feel something more than just the usual hornyness that came with a hookup. this felt real. 

you hands moved down his sides, pushing under his shirt and squeezing the taut skin that was below your fingertips. his knee came in between your legs and pressed up, making you breath heavy into his mouth, keeling towards him for more of that feeling. you knew that you couldn't make much noise, because the only thing separating you two and the rest of his friends downstairs was your door. you didn't know what you would say to stanley if he heard something and came in to investigate. 

bill sat up and pulled his shirt off, hands reaching down to do the same to yours and throw it down onto your floor. your skin felt hot against his hands, while they ran up your sides and to your shoulders to meet your bra straps. soon enough he was reaching behind you and unclipping it, and with your help, your chest was fully exposed to him. 

he ducked his head down and kissed at your neck, teeth grazing along while he stopped and sucked a little bit in a few spots. they were only the lightest of marks, easy to cover up when you would need to. he made his way south, stopping and paying attention to the valley of your breasts, teasing you. your hands carded through his hair, pulling on it and arching your chest up to meet his mouth, telling him to go ahead. 

bill laughed. “you’re so irresistible, you know that?” he said against your skin, moving left and catching one of your nipples in his mouth. you gasped out, taking in the feeling and closing your eyes. you never wanted this to end. bill made you feel so good. his other hand grabbed your other tit, softly kneading it and then switching after a minute or so. 

the sounds that you were making was enough to make bill go crazy, he could stay and be with you forever if he could. he couldn't believe it took him this long to realize truly how beautiful you were. all those years the losers teased stanley about his hot sister, bill just thought that they were doing it to get under stan’s skin, though bill knew now that it was more than that. he wasn’t just with you to get under his friends skin, he really liked you. 

in fact, bill was so in over his head that he didn’t even hear you call out his name to get his attention. it wasn’t until the third time you said his name that he noticed and stopped what he was doing, looking up at you from your chest, that was now red and kiss swollen. 

you smiled, grabbing him by his jaw. “they could realize you’re gone,” you said. as much as you wanted to spend the entire night with him and draw this out as much as you could, you knew that someone could wake up. and the second that they didn’t see that bill was downstairs, they would get curious and the possibility of getting caught increases drastically. 

bill nodded, reaching in his back pocket and getting his wallet. from there he pulled out a condom, making you laugh.

“what? it’s good to be prepared,” bill said. 

“you’re such a dork,” you joked, pushing down your pants and underwear, waiting for him to get himself together. you watched him do the same, taking the condom out of the package and putting it on himself.

there was a brief pause in between movements where he was just sitting there in between your legs, looking at you in the eyes. you kept eye contact and he said in a whisper, “you know that you’re really beautiful, right?” 

you felt your face heat up, suddenly turning a little bashful in front of him. no guy ever really called you beautiful before. sure, you’ve been called hot and pretty, but never beautiful. especially in the way that bill said it, like he meant every word. 

you responded by kissing him, pulling his body as close as it would get to your own. the burning desire you felt for bill grew with every passing second. 

he pushed into you, not slowly, but not fast either. he eased into it, both of you stopped kissing each other to get used to the feeling. you felt him push in inch by inch, filling you up like no other person could. and you just felt too good around bill, it was like he was in a dream. a few seconds later, you rolled your hips against his, prompting him to start moving. it didn’t really hurt, and the uncomfortableness went away and you were ready for more. 

the pit in your stomach was already starting to form as continued to move, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. your hands found their way to his back and your fingers dug into his skin, arching yourself into him.

your moans were hard to keep quiet, bill was making you feel so good and you wanted nothing more than to just moan out his name as loud as you could. but instead you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, trying to stifle out your moans as much as you could. 

bill kept one hand on your hip so he could steady himself, but the other stayed next to your head, keeping him over you and getting a deeper angle. you pulled your legs up, wrapping them around his waist, causing both of you to moan out loudly. he stilled inside for you just a moment, as if he was waiting to hear any movement downstairs. 

but there was none, and bill continued. 

“fuck, bill,” you moaned out, skin hot and sweat was starting to form on your brow. 

bill took that as a sign that you were getting close, so his hand dropped down and toyed with your clit, sending your head to slam down into your pillow. your hips rolled against his own and his hand, stars were seen in your vision and you were cumming below him. it was the strongest orgasm you think you’ve ever had before in your life. 

not even two thrusts after, he was coming undone too, pulling out and plopping down next to you. each of you slowed your breathing, your hand came to grab his own and you two stayed like that for a long time. 

soon enough, bill was sitting up and getting his clothes back on. you whined, grabbing him by the arm as he was putting on his shirt. “can’t you stay?” you asked, batting your eyelashes and pouting. 

bill leaned over and kissed your forehead, pulling the covers up over you. “you know I would if I could,” bill said, taking a glance at the closed door. “but if stan wakes up and sees that im with you in your bed, he’ll kill me.” both of you laughed and you just nodded, watching him as he walked to the door. 

before he left, he looked at you and gave you a wink. 

“I'll see you tomorrow then?” 

[every-bad-thing]

Your Parents Aren’t Themselves

Your parents are different. You know this because late one night you were coming back from the bathroom when you saw these two things creep through a tiny crack in the top of the window. They were like long, flat worms as big as a surfboard. They slid up the walls and onto the ceiling, where you couldn't see them anymore. But you heard them creep, closer and closer, and your heart beat faster and faster, until you could tell they were right above you, and you screamed, but then realized they weren’t going for you. They were going down the hall, where your parents sleep.

One of them opens the door and asked what's going on. You see one of the things drop from the ceiling and wrap itself around and around and around their body until there's just a struggling, moaning form writhing on the floor. Then, from the bedroom, you hear your other parent say ‘what in the,’ before being cut off abruptly. You run screaming into your room and slam the door. You get onto your bed and hug your knees close to your face. Then, after waiting for whatever got your parents to come for you too, you fall asleep.

You're startled awake by one of your parents telling you it's time to get up and go to school. You come downstairs and see your family sitting around the table eating breakfast, like last night didn't even happen. But you know it did. You feel it, deep inside. You summon your courage and ask them about what you saw, and they just laugh between themselves and say that was just a nightmare. But you know it didn't feel like a nightmare. Right? You spend all day at school thinking about this. You're pretty sure you saw what you saw. But then the question becomes: what will you do? And on that you're stumped.

Time passes. You see your parents a lot less. Sometimes you come home from school and one of them tells you the other is out somewhere, but never says where. They usually don't come back until well after your bedtime. Sometimes neither of them are home, and you just find a note telling you supper's in the fridge and that they love you. On those nights they're usually back by about seven or eight but one night they didn't get home until ten, after you'd fallen asleep watching TV.

Sometimes both of them would be home and life would seem normal again. But on those nights they'd be short with you, and you wouldn't know why, so you soon learn to just be quiet and try not to talk if you don't have to. This seems to suit them just fine.

You get used to all the changes. You get better at taking care of yourself. You know how to cook spaghetti and can even wash up when you're done. You know how to do the laundry and run the dryer. You pick up your own things and make your own bed. Overall, you’re becoming much more independent and it actually feels pretty good.

One day, when both your parents are out, you're in the basement trying to find where the lightbulbs are. You instead find a large container full of weird looking bags. You take some out and realize it's your parents--their skin and hair at least, all floppy and kind of oily. You drop them in fright. You look into the box and realize it's full of skins. Then you hear your parents upstairs. They're home. Before you can stuff everything back in, they come down to the basement and see what you found. You tell them that you were right and that this is why they've been acting weird, that they're really monsters!

 And they sit down and apologize for you having to see those, that you weren't supposed to, and that they should have hidden them better. And then they just take the container and don't say anything else . No matter how many times you bring up this whole situation, they just change the subject or, at best, say they'll tell you when you're older.

So, of course, you run away from home. And, of course, they find you and tell you with tears in their eyes how worried they were and how you should never do something like that again because god forbid something were to happen to you. And, with tears in your eyes, you say that the reason you ran is because they won't tell you what's going on, and they say oh don't you worry about things like that, everything is going to be just fine and let's go home. And after that point, you see them a little more. They're still out, sometimes alone sometimes together, but not as much as before, and when they're both home you play a game or something. They're still a little distant, but you see that, weird monster people or no, they're making an effort. You stop bringing up what you saw and just live your life as they live theirs.

Years pass. And then one of your parents sits you down and says you're finally old enough to learn about that weird period when you were young. What you’re told is that sometimes marriages get stale and that even though your parents love each other deeply, sometimes they also need time apart to hear other voices and see other people. And you kind of nod and ask when will the part about the horrible skin monsters that creep through the windows come up. And your parent looks surprised and says oh that? And casually notes that they were taken control of by the worms from the planet Mnuui in the Crab Nebula, who grant a life of perfect bliss in exchange for use of their bodies to carry out their dark agenda of galactic conquest and that once you're an adult you too will come to learn the perfect fulfillment of being a vessel for the almighty Worm Mind that waits at the edge of wakefulness and sleep for the time to break the barrier between worlds and rule creation as it did in the Long Ago. Then pats you on the back and tells you they're making your favorite tonight: lasagna.

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[ye4gerismarchives]

the bachelorette chp 4, part 3: visiting jean’s mom

an: so, i decided i'd write the elimination in a separate chapter, one, just to mess with y'all and two, to give you time. i honestly think picking one of these three guys is really hard. obviously, i know who i want to win, but i look at the two other guys and i'm like 'oh, they would be good too!'. i like pulling at your heartstrings ;). i'll probably put together another q&a (depending on the numbers of questions i get) and once i do that, i'll wait for a day and then close the poll to start writing! anyways, let me stop sharing my thought process with yall and start your date with jean. link at the bottom!

tags: black, fem reader

tag list: @taybird

Bertholdt drove you back to the mansion and you texted Connie asking him to prepare something for you, Bertholdt. Jean and Connie to eat. And maybe a lil something for that brat Levi. Connie responded with an 'ok' and a smiley face.

The car ride home was silent. You felt awful for Bertholdt. You wondered how many silent post-hospital drives he's been through.

Once you got home, Bertholdt told you he wasn't very hungry and just wanted to lay down. You wanted to argue with him but Bertholdt needed space. You wish him good night before making your way to the kitchen.

Connie and Jean were chatting it up in the kitchen once you walked in. Connie was the one to announce your entrance. "Hey, y/n," he greets. Jean then turns around. "Hey, y/n. How is Bert holding up? I understand that visit was really hard."

"Thank you for asking, Jean. Bertie...well...he's just being human. His dad...it's really bad," you reply. You take a seat by Jean at the kitchen island. "The fact that he's been holding in for a while...it's crazy. I would have never thought he was in that situation. No wonder he was so stressed after that Porco got angry with him," Jean says. You raise an eyebrow at Jean. "Oh...after Porco got angry with him about you, Bert seemed sadder and more introverted than usual. He only really confided in Reiner, though," Jean explained.

"Ah, that makes sense. Poor Bertie."

Connie had made some garlic bread with ava ado toast and egg. You didn't expect that out of him but you all enjoyed it. You felt tired, so you told the guys you were ready to lay down. They wished you good night before diving into a conversation about...y'all i don't even know what men talk about 😐

The next morning, you woke up at the same time as you did for Connie's visit. Your final visit would be Jean's mom. She also lived far away from the mansion but Jean insisted that you could take your time. She would still be at her home. No nurses to rush you out or kids bugging their parents. You hoped this visit would be as peaceful as it sounded.

You were very hungry though. You didn't realize it last night about the whole Bertholdt thing and you only had those little stupid avocado things that Connie made. It was good but didn't feel you up. You decided you would take a bath and get ready for your visit later.

You crept downstairs, hoping not to wake anyone up. You didn't want Levi questioning you and you didn't want to stop and talk to the boys because you would probably have a day-long conversation and if that conversation was with Jean, you probably wouldn't see his mom.

You made a few turns and found yourself in the kitchen. And you weren't alone. Jean was leaning on the kitchen counter, sipping on some coffee that he had made. His eyebrows widened at your presence.

"Good morning," he greeted, "I didn't expect you to be up right now."

"Oh, I'm just hungry right now. Didn't eat much yesterday," you say. Jean places his coffee down on the table. "Would you like me to make you something?"

You were about to say yes but a greater idea came into mind. "Why don't we make something together? It would be fun and give you bonus points..." You wiggle your eyebrows when you say that last part. Jean let out a laugh. "Well, you're hungry and I can't let you starve. Us working together will make things faster...and those 'bonus points' would help a lot."

You walk towards Jean and his eyes remain on you. You find yourself wrapping his arms around his waist. It was just on-demand. Jean pulls you close and kisses your forehead. "What do you wanna make?"You think for a minute. "You know how to make (meal of your choice)?"

Whether Jean says yes or no is up to you. However, Jean is really good at following directions. If you need something, he'll get it. If you needed him to watch something, he watches it with intensity.

After a few minutes, the meal was ready and you both sat by the kitchen island and dug in. "I hope Connie doesn't wake up and butt into our breakfast," you joke. Jean let out a small laugh. "Connie's really nice. He hasn't shown me or anyone else any hostility during our time here."

"If you could say...who did you think was the worst person here?" you ask. Jean doesn't even have to wait to answer. "I'd have to Floch. Confidence is key but Floch just got disrespectful about it. Talking about how we should all go home and let him have you. And he was only here one night and everyone already had a bad vibe about him."

Your heart panged at that answer. "Thank you for telling me. I know everyone likes drama but Floch sounds...dangerous. I don't know what would have happened if he stayed." "Yeah, of course. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable," Jean said sheepishly. The discomfort must have been visible on your face. "No, don't apologize. I asked."

You continued to eat your breakfast and chat and hear about Jean's experience in the mansion so far.

After breakfast, you and Jean got ready for the day and finally decided to head out. Jean was starting his car when you decided to ask another question.

"I've never heard you talk about your dad. I've heard bits about your mom and you've mentioned her to the other guys but I never hear about your father. He isn't dead right? Is he sick? Like Bertholdt's?"

Jean is silent for a minute. "Oh...I don't really like talking about my dad, but you would have to know at some point."

"Oh, Jean...you don't have to. Don't worry about it."

He shakes his head. "It's fine. We were going to have this conversation pretty soon, so it doesn't matter."

Jean starts moving the car and when he's out on the road, he begins to talk.

"My dad has never been in my life. At this point, I don't know if he's dead or not. Sometimes I feel like he isn't my father. We did talk like once or twice when I was a kid and I was actually desperate to see him. But once I reached high school and started preparing for my adult life, I realized he wasn't worth it anymore. If my dad really wanted to be there for me, he would have reached out more often and let me know that things were hard on his end. I know everything I'm saying is being recorded and broadcasted, so if he ever sees me on TV, he can always hit me up. I just won't be naïve and stupid like I was the last time."

You immediately jump in after that last line. "Hey. You weren't naïve or stupid. He was stupid. You were a kid waiting on his dad. You had every right to wait for him, so don't insult yourself over him."

Deep down inside, you weren't sure if you wanted to meet Jean's dad...if he was alive. Jean didn't seem comfortable talking about him at all, so you shouldn't expect any visits or calls from that man. If you were to have kids and he popped up, that'd be hard to deal with. It would probably break Jean's heart to learn that his father would want to see his grandkids before even meeting the guy who helped make them.

Jean doesn't respond to what you said. Again, this was hard for him and he didn't even want to bring his father up in the first place, so you weren't upset.

You end up falling asleep in the car. Hours later, you wake up and Jean is parked in front of a bakery. He's on the phone. "Yeah, ma, we're here. Right in front of it, she's sleeping but we'll head inside....I miss you too...alright then, bye."

Jean hangs up and places the phone down. He jumps slightly when he realizes you're awake. "H-hey. I thought you were sleeping."

"Well, I was. Your mom is ready to see us?" You ask. "Yeah. She owns this bakery and decided to close completely today to meet you. I asked her if we could meet at home but she insisted that her bakery would be best. She's really proud of it," Jean explains. "Are we going to bake something?"

Jean laughs and shakes his head no. "Oh, no. My mom won't let you do any work in there, since you're a special guest. She put some things together if you want to eat something."

You imagined Jean's mother as someone who prioritized her future-in-law over her own son sometimes. It sounds overbearing but you thought this was a good thing. You wouldn't want an evil mother or father-in-law. If Jean were to cheat on you or hurt you, you knew she'd probably be on your side or hear both sides instead of immediately siding with her son.

You also wanted to assume that she was tough on Jean. Considering that she raised him herself, she had to do other things like work. To give herself some peace, she probably had a no-nonsense household- maybe why Jean was more like a puppy and wasn't as scandalous as the eliminated.

Jean got out of the car and helped you out. He didn't take your hand when directing you to the bakery but opened the door for you. Inside was a short, older woman, standing there with her hands clasped. The minute you stepped in, her excitement exploded. "Hi! Welcome! It's finally nice to meet you," she says. The older woman squeezes and you can't help but let out a chuckle...or a wheeze. "H-hey, mom. Maybe you should let her go," Jean steps in nervously. Jean's mom slowly lets go. "I'm sorry! I just got excited. Are you hungry?"

You shake your head. "No, Mrs. Kirstein. Jean actually helped me put together breakfast."

"Good, good. I'm glad he's being useful! And call me June. Come, sit, sit."

Jean's mom takes your hand and leads you to a small table and pulls open a chair for you. Jean quietly pulls a chair up by you. You start to worry about him because all the attention is on you, rather than the both of you.

"Can I get you something to drink?" June asks. "Some water would be nice," you answer. Your eye catches Jean's hand. You place your own on his and you feel him jump slightly. "Jean, would you like something too?"

"I-I'll take water too," Jean croaks. "Well, Jean, I'm sure you can serve yourself. I'm getting old, you know. Make sure you get a glass for y/n too."

Jean looks ready to argue back but he keeps his lips zipped. He carefully removes your hand from

his, gets up, and heads over to the back of the bakery.

You watch Jean do all of this and then finally turn away so that you can give June all your attention. "Please tell me he's been good to you," she starts. You weren't expecting this question but considers why she's asking. "Yes, Jean is...amazing. He's always coming to my defense. Which I shouldn't be surprised by, he is a lawyer."

June sighs in relief. "I hope he stays that way. He told you...about our situation right?" You nod. "It's unfortunate that his father did that to the both of you. If Jean does get married to me, I hope he doesn't pop out of anywhere. Jean's a good guy but I'm not too sure how he'll react to something like that." June let's our a small hum.

"Have you been watching the show?" you ask. "A little. I work, so it's hard to catch up on what's going on. Sometimes I'll read articles and Jean will text me to let me know if he didn't get eliminated. I was a little concerned about him doing the show because nothing is guaranteed."

"Hm...is he cocky about this whole thing? Does he really think he can get me?"

June thinks for a moment. "I can't say cocky but there's nothing wrong with a little confidence. Jean is handsome, he has a good job, he's smart- and he knows that. He believed those would be good reasons for you to like him. But...he does get bashful sometimes. He doesn't want all the attention on him and for people to view him in the wrong way. The fact that he had a mirror in his pocket on the first night was interesting to me. He's never done anything like that before."

You open your mouth but Jean enters once more. He places three water bottles on the table. "Sorry for taking too long. Ma, I'll replace the waters. Don't worry about it," he says. June shakes her head. "Don't worry about it, Jean. We have plenty of water."

"So, have you two discussed wedding plans? Anything for the future?" June suddenly asks. You look at Jean, who looks like his stomach was doing the chacha slide or sum. "M-mom-!"

"Well, we haven't reached that point because we don't know if he's staying or not but I'd like a really elegant wedding. I know we'll have a live-streamed wedding but I'd like to have a private wedding too. That would be nice right?" you cut in. Jean nods in agreement.

"What about kids? I read somewhere that you wanted a family," you tease. Jean's face reddened. "W-well...um...yeah...two would be nice. A girl and b-boy maybe?"

"See? We have a plan," you say with a wide smile. You could imagine Jean as a cautious dad but he still knew how to have fun with his kids. After long days at work, he'd cuddle with them and put them to sleep for you. When the kids are asleep, he'll check on you and make sure you had something to eat. He'd probably make sure to schedule regular date nights and family vacations. He'll have photos of you and the kids and maybe a few bandages in a wallet. Obviously, you would both be in the public eye once in a while but he would make things feel normal.

"I think you two would have beautiful kids. I do hope Jean gets picked. But your two other guys are good too. Bertholdt is absolutely adorable and Connie seems like he knows what he's doing. I don't know how you're ever going to choose. I can't imagine being your situation," June says.

"Wow, thanks for having my back mom," Jean says jokingly. "But if not me, pick Connie. He's a good person."

"Oh, Jean, don't do that to yourself. You're lovely." You cup his cheek and his reddened face returns.

Jean's mom starts talking about Jean when he was a kid- how he was such a big softie and a great helper,  how he was popular in high school but still to himself, and all the girlfriends and boyfriends that she didn't like.

It was getting late. Jean's mom offered you her home but Jean stopped her before she could ask. You didn't question why he didn't want to stay at her home but still wondered why. You said your goodbyes, watched her lock the bakery, and drive off. Jean helps you into his car and gets into the drivers' seat.

"You know why she wanted to you go home with her?" he asks.

You shake your head no. "There's only one bed. A twin size bed," Jean says as he starts the car. You let out a chuckle. "Connie's parents tried that with us except Connie had a bigger bed."

Jean looks over at you. "Oh...I should have probably taken her offer."

"Connie and I didn't do anything that night...maybe you could give me a sample of what you can do. It'll help me decide."

Jean didn't hesitate to lean over and cup your cheek. He went in first. Jean was gentle and careful with your lips. You soon gave in and wrapped a hand on his wrist. When things started to get hot, you pulled away. "Didn't expect you to be that gentle...You really want me, huh?"

"Yeah," Jean says scratching his neck. "You're pretty rough... you have experience?"

Whether you say yes or no is up to you.

Jean smiles at your answer and starts driving. You try to fall asleep but it's so hard. All you can see is Bertholdt, Connie, and Jean at the next elimination. You wished Eren or Onyankopon did stupid stuff later on and were a part of the final three so that this could be easier.

Hours later, Jean reaches the mansion. He thinks you're still asleep. He doesn't want to wake you up. So what does he do? Jean opens the passenger door and scoops you up in his arms. Your heart jumps. You hope it's dark enough outside so that he can't see the small smile you're trying not to crack.

It doesn't Jean long to get to the door and ring the doorbell. He must be really strong. The door opens and he's greeted by Connie.

"You need help with that man?"

"Um...no...I think I'll get her up there. But you could get her purse from my car though. She'll probably wonder where that is."

Connie probably gave him a non-verbal response since there was just silence after that. Jean got you up the stairs and struggled with your bedroom door but he got in within ten minutes. Jean turns on your lights, places you on the bed, and removes your shoes. He steps away but you hear ripping sounds proceeding by scribbling. You can hear Jean turning off your lights and closing the door behind him as he leaves. Your eyes flick open and you wait a few moments. You turn on the light on your bed stand to see the note Jean wrote you.

'Wasn't sure what to do with your clothes. It's not my place to decide that- at least not yet. But I hope you slept comfortably.'

You smile softly at the note. It was definitely something he would say.

i use YOUR opinions to not only put together dates but to put together personalities. if y’all say you hate bertholdt, i’ll work my magic to mess with y’all :) anyways here’s the link! ask good questions. this is the last time you’ll see bertholdt, jean, OR connie. vote and ask wisely

[mrsluthordanvers]

This may seem like a really random question but has writing and reading femslash helped you come into your sexual and/or gender identities? I've been in the Supergirl fandom and other primarily f/f fandoms for quite some time and this is something that I've been wondering about recently.

Yes!!

This got really long, and really rambly, and probably tells more about my experience with fandom then you needed to know to answer this question. But here it is lol

I grew up in a relatively conservative and catholic family with limited access to media both bc of this and bc my family was low income. I remember as a little kid we only had a couple channels and when we did get cable when I was older, my parents would stop pay for it during summer months because they wanted us to go outside.

The only gay media I remember ever seeing growing up in my parents house was Imagine Me & You. I caught it once on TV and I have vivid memories of realizing what I was watching and sitting on the edge of the couch paranoid that my parents would come downstairs and catch me watching it. I remember setting up the remote so that when I hit the quick back button it would take me back to some cartoon channel. And glee. Which I was surprisingly actually allowed to watch. I was always waiting for it to get turned off but it never was.

Both my parents were very big on encouraging reading. When we asked for books, it was almost the only time I don’t remember being told no. I remember I spent tons of time in libraries as a kid and it was one of the only places I was allowed to go after school by myself when I was in junior high. And I loved to write, my mom was always asking her to tell me stories and I was always writing in journals.

Basically what I’m saying is that I really did Not have exposure to the gay community. And looking back it seems really natural that I started reading and writing femslash.

It took me a long time to get into though, and to seek out. Instead I was sneaking Nora Roberts books out of the library at grade 7 because they had sex in them. Sex, I thought, that was safe/healthy/whatever because these were the books my sister was reading. Plus my mom said they were too mature for me, and what’s a better motivator then being told no. I didn’t find famslash until very late into high school bc it never even occur to me that I could be reading cheesy romances that were f/f instead.

My first experience actually reading femslash was Rizzles fics on ff.net. I honestly have no idea how I found it bc at the time I couldn’t have told you what fandom was, or that tumblr existed. The only thing I remember knowing about fanfic was that if you said you read fanfic people assumed you were reading about weird sex about characters and would laugh at you. Honestly I might have only found fanfics bc glee was really big at the same time and I was probably hearing people talk about ships and fanfic even if I don’t remember it now. Either way I found it lol. And I read A Lot of rizzoli and isles fics.

And it helped. Towards the end of high school was when it really started to dawn on me that I might like girls and I didn’t have words for it, I didn’t know there was a community, and there certainly wasn’t people I was willing to ask.

Reading femslash was like opening a door. Suddenly I was being introduced to the same kind of cheesy romance writing I was already reading. I was being introduced to the idea of two women going on dates. Having healthy relationships. Having unhealthy relationships. Soft sex. Rough sex. Falling in love. Getting married. Having kids. And it really started to solidify that I liked women.

Up until that point the idea of being gay scared the fuck out of me bc what I knew was so limited, to me being gay = being alone. It meant I wasn’t allowed to have any of those things and I really resisted that.

Reading femslash was a big part of changing that perspective. It made me comfortable enough to tell a girl at 19 I had a crush on her. It helped me feel like it was okay to tell people I wasn’t straight when I went to university. It prompted me to search out more gay media when I went to university. I started to watch glee again. I watched DEBS, and Imagine Me and You, and Saving Face, and Gray Matters, and Bloomington, and Kissing Jessica Stein, and Loving Annabelle. Basically I went through the LGBT section of Netflix in a year. 

A friend introduced me to tumblr and told me there was a big gay community. I followed some cool people and aesthetic blogs but honestly I still wasn’t quite finding it.

Then I watched The 100 while it was in season 2 in my last year of university. Completely unaware of Clarke and Lexa. I became obsessed lol. They kissed on screen and it was like a switch went off. I don’t know why it was that show instead of anything else I had been watching that spurred me on. But it did. I started looking up accounts on tumblr and following people and reading so so so much fanfic. I had started to find that vast community on tumblr my friend mentioned and started sending people asks and saw people actually answering asks, and posting their art and their writing. It encouraged me to try writing again, and ask a couple people if they would read stuff I posted.

And then supergirl came out and I was soooo excited for it that I started to try mimicking accounts I saw in the clexa fandom. I figured out how to make gifsets, and I liveblogged, and my friend told me to make a side fandom blog or she’d unfollow me lmao. Which I also didn’t know people did. I started this blog just before season 2 happened and it made for the perfect storm. I already had a small following, I was making content (even if it wasn’t great), and Lena got introduced. And suddenly I REALLY discovered how vast the gay community is bc it was suddenly knocking at my door. It was also a big BIG learning curve.

I was reading people’s fanfics and looking at their fanart. I was seeing depictions of different sexualities. And how two characters can be interpreted in such vastly different ways. I was being shown perspectives I hadn’t seen before, some that made me stop and go. Oh. It helped me identify my first label, and then also taught me labels can change, and mine did. I wasn’t just reading fics about two women in a relationship, I was opening fics and seeing me. I saw a piece of fanart of Butch Kara and thought, she looks like me. And then I started to see people writing about butch Kara and commenting about butch Kara and it wasn’t just, she looks like me. It became she looks like me, and that is desirable. And that gave me confidence. I stopped shaving, my wardrobe has started to change, I started buying things I wanted to wear not that I thought I should wear. I learned I wanted people to see me and think I was handsome or attractive before they thought I pretty or cute lol

Writing femslash has a different kind of self reflection. I like to think I have started to notice when I project things on to characters, and think about why those things are important to me. Or why I get defensive over certain headcanons. All things that have made me step back and look at my own sexuality and gender identity. Which honestly I’m still figuring out and is still changing, but I’ve learned that’s okay too (fanfic has also normalized that for me lol)

Art is meant to make you feel things, think about things. I don’t think fanfic or fanart is any different. Sometimes it is just meant to make you feel you horny and sometimes it makes you reflect on whether or not you might be butch. Personally I think it’s very cool that it’s so powerful

[catrasredemption-moved]

That whole "an abusive mother shouldn't be seen as a mother figure" sitting not well with me.

So can you elaborate on that and not make it super invalidating to people abused by foster/adoptive/psuedo paternql figures?

This feels like a trap, but sure. Buckle up, we’re going back to my childhood.

(this is long, contains emotional/mental abuse, alcohol and drug references, and is just plain unpleasant)

I was emotionally/mentally abused by my mother and stepfather for pretty much my entire life. I was an oops baby, and my bio dad at least had the self awareness to check out my life early because he knew he’d never be a good father (yes, I give him some twisted credit for that, because at least he was honest). My mom was kind of... I don’t want to say forced to keep me, but her family was very insistent. I don’t think she would have gotten an abortion anyway (put aside that this was 1991), but things might have been different if she’d just been allowed to go the same route as my father. Her parents pretty much raised me for six years, partially because she had a full-time job, and partially because she just had no clue what she was doing. And I think having her parents as a crutch for so long definitely limited her.

And then she met Paul. Twenty years older than her, didn’t even have a toaster to his name, alcoholic, drug addict. I was six, so obviously this all went over my head, but my mother’s parents did not like him (something I didn’t find out until years after they both died). My mom was 27 at the time, and I don’t know if she just thought no one else would want her because she was a single mother, if she was just desperate, or maybe she really was attracted to him, but she started dating him. I don’t remember everything that led up to the Breaking Point, because this was 23 years ago, but I remember the specific night - she was on the phone with Paul, and I kept saying I was hungry. I forget what she made, but it was something I’d eaten before and suddenly decided I didn’t like (as children do sometimes), so I was upset.

At this point my grandmother or grandfather would usually step in and just make me something else. Instead my grandfather went upstairs and told her to get off the phone and deal with it. Was I being a little bratty? Yeah, probably. Should my grandparents have just dealt with it? No, that was my mother’s job. Even if it just meant coming downstairs and making me eat the Thing. But she didn’t want to get off the phone (this was 1997, people still talked on phones. Weird, right?)

One huge fight later, my mother put me in her car and drove me 20 minutes to another city to stay with Paul and his roommate. I didn’t see my grandparents for three days. That’s when they learned they had to play nice with Paul or my mother would actually take me away.

We moved in with Paul, after they’d been dating for three whole months. My mother upended both of our lives, including making me transfer to another school after first grade, for a guy she’d been dating for three months. A guy she knew had substance abuse problems. A guy who, when home alone during the day, would sit out in the living room and watch porn (and one time watched it in my room, which? I was eight, I very vaguely remember walking into the apartment, my mother immediately grabbing me and pushing me back into the hall while saying “get that shit off her TV.”)

Some very fucked up things happened over the next twelve years, some I still haven’t told anyone about (including my wife), and some that were just wrong in retrospect. Common occurrences included (some of this might be considered lowkey sexual abuse? I’ve never thought about it that way, but my perspective is skewered af):

Telling me to turn sideways so he could see how I was “developing” (this started at 10)

Inappropriate comments about my weight and how I eat too much (starting around 8 or 9)

Wildly gross and sexual comments about my body (starting around 13)

Coming into my room while drunk and asking for a hug, then holding me for too long and lowkey groping (starting around 13 or 14)

Calling me a whiny bitch (starting around 8)

Yelling at me for eating food, especially if I finished something, because I didn’t pay for the food so why should I get to eat it all (starting around 15)

Yelling at me for daring to go out into the living room and talk to my mother while they were watching TV (pretty much the entire time I lived with them)

Telling me my mother used to have “a great body” before she got sick and lost a ton of weight (I don’t remember when exactly that started, but the sickness in question happened when I was 7)

Trying to tell me about how he and mother were getting hot and heavy while I was at school (high school; one of the only times my mother actually told him to shut the fuck up)

Enjoyed calling me stupid and calling me an idiot and other things that were entirely damaging to my self esteem

Straight up saying, after seven years of my mother insisting we were family, that I wasn’t his daughter and I never would be (13)

Inappropriate comments while drunk, to the point where I knew when he’d be drunk (because it was always pay day), and me arranging to be out of the house for a couple of days just so I wouldn’t have to be there (high school; I went to my aunt’s, and eventually she started figuring out a pattern and asking me what was going on. I was 16 when she finally realized I hate Paul as much as she does)

...to name a few things. And my mother? Knew about all of this. And sure, she tried to stick up for me once or twice, like about the food thing, but even that came with the caveat of “maybe you should stop eating so much.” (before anyone asks, yes, I’m slightly overweight, and this was some grade A body shaming). But for the most part, she enabled him. And when he told me to stop being sensitive and it was “just a joke”? She sided with him and told me to stop “whining” (whining being “trying to defend myself”). She took his side about 95% of the time, while still insisting that he was my father, because he was there and he was helping “raise” me. They’ve been together for 23 years, and she’s basically chosen him over me at this point (because I chose to get the fuck out of the house and take a job in a state 300 miles away just to escape that hell). We actually got into a huge fight about him back in June because I didn’t call to wish him a Happy Father’s Day. He has never met my wife (whom he referred to as my “friend”, and my mother saw nothing wrong with that, then got mad when I tried to say “what if I called him your roommate”), he was not invited to our wedding, and we had a fight last Christmas when I went back to visit and straight up said he wasn’t allowed to visit our hotel (because I never want him to meet my wife).

Do I consider her my mother? ...sure, in the absolute vaguest sense of the word. She made sure I made it from birth to 18, kept me clothed and fed and a roof over my head (while constantly reminding me about how much it cost to raise a kid.)

Do I consider him my father? Fuck. No. I left the house for college when I was 18, moved out when I was 22, have had three therapists, been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and probable PTSD, have gathered a small group of my own found family, and I still carry a lot of shit from that time in my life. I hate showing my body in any way, and tend to wear shirts that are, oh, 2-3 sizes too big. I hate eating “too much”, despite the fact that a) my wife doesn’t care if I finish something and b) I help pay for the fucking food. I get extremely anxious when I try to correct someone about something (like my pronouns), because I’m afraid they’re going to yell at me and tell me to stop being sensitive. My self esteem is still basically at rock bottom, to the point where I don’t believe people sometimes when they say they like my writing. I flinch when people try to touch me (that’s getting better, though).

I can’t even give him the bare minimum credit I give my mother, because he actively hindered my attempts to grow up and move on from the shit he put me through. He was, and still is, a terrible person, and the idea of him being my father makes me sick. I give more credit to by bio father (you know, the one who walked out because he knew he wouldn’t be a good father), because he’s at least made a few half-ass attempts throughout my life to show he cares (and in a way, I think he does, he just knew he wouldn’t be a good father). Paul, though? Paul could die tomorrow and I... I can’t say I wouldn’t care at all, just because he has had such a presence in my life, but I wouldn’t miss him.

If you have an abusive parental figure (be it bio/step/foster/adoptive/etc.), and you consider them your parent, then that’s you, and I don’t judge. But Paul, no matter what my mother says, will never be my father in any way. He actively made me afraid to exist or be in my own home. He left scars so deep that I don’t think I’ll ever totally move on from some of it. I need people to remind me that nothing he did was okay or normal, and that my mother wasn’t right for allowing it.

So basically, I have a lot of experience to back up why I don’t think abusive parents should be considered parental figures. Parents are supposed to help you grow and care about you and want you to succeed. Paul did none of those things. He continues to be an active roadblock in my life, as a matter of fact. And I refuse to feel bad about not considering him a parental figure.

[revvnant]

this is a wip of a tma-style statement, it needs a lot of cleaning up and it’s not actually done but it is rather long and i did say i’d post it. extreme cw for: bullying, abuse, unreality, gore, psychological horror

"I like to think that the first four years of my life were rather good. A loving mother. A loving father. Good health, a family with a relatively stable income, plenty of opportunities to explore and learn... you might even call it a charmed life. And I know that it's a bit hypocritical, to say all of this and then to complain immediately -- and I know that it's petty, maybe pettier than anything else, and more typical than anything else, to say that a baby ruined my life. But it did. And then a second one ruined it again.

"Let me say for the record that it wasn't their fault. It wasn't their fault that my parents should have gotten a divorce, it wasn't their fault that my father's business was just getting off the ground and he had to be away far more than he was here, and it wasn't their fault that my mother had issues of her own, and was too stressed to take care of them. It wasn't their fault that we only looked good in Christmas albums, and it wasn't their fault that we lived so close to the Emilies, and saw them every day, and that Henry Emily and his wife somehow always seemed to have time for their kids when my parents didn't. And Hell, maybe even that's an assumption on my part. Maybe Sammy and Charlie were in the same boat as us, behind closed doors. I wouldn't have known. If they were, they weren't in it long. And neither were Evan and Elizabeth.

"I told myself all this in the beginning. I was actually kind of proud of it. Four, then eight, and I felt like the head of the household. It felt good to be called 'little man', to be told they were my responsibility. It was fulfilling to bring them to and from the bathroom, and to help them with their homework. Even by the time I was eleven, my homework was easy. The work that mattered, anyways -- the math, the science, it came quickly to me. I thought I was so capable, at first. And Mum was still around, so it didn't matter when I slipped up. Sure, they'd get angry, they'd ask me what I was thinking or why I hadn't remembered to feed Liz or to pick Evan up from school, but... that didn't really matter to me. I was a kid. I was interested in dinosaurs, and astronauts, and Freddy's. More than anything, I was interested in Freddy's.

"We went there all the time, because Dad owned it, and Mr. Emiily was his partner, and they had made the most amazing walking, talking stuffed animals I had ever seen. When I learned what an animatronic was, and that I could make one, I was even more excited. I couldn't help but think that they were for me. Why wouldn't they be? They were made in my house, by my Dad. They were my bunny, they became my brother's bear, my sister's fox and dolls. How could I not feel a little possessive? A little-- it would have been okay if it was a little. If it hadn't gone to my head. Because I wanted to make them, and I wanted to be like the person who made them. When he shouted, I shouted. When he threw things, I threw things. I know that he didn't do it where I could see. And I know he didn't know that I was still watching from the stairs, or the crack in the door. My parents solved their problems by getting into fights, so I solved my problems by getting into fights, and that made them fight more.

"At first it was okay. And then they started fighting with me. I didn't get it. I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. And then I realized Mum wasn't looking at me the same way anymore. Not the way she looked at Evan, and Beth. Her eyes would always slide away from me. Like she couldn't stand to see me. I knew I was causing problems, but I didn't really get what it meant. I didn't get why it had to be a big deal if I hit someone on the playground, or kicked my teacher, or said a 'bad word' in class. They did it all the time. They did it to each other and they did it to me. And I did it back. And my father threw something at me.

"I don't know why she didn't just take us out of there. And I don't know why she never cared when I cried. She would run straight to Evan when he planted his butt on the carpet and turned on the faucets, but me? Get up, Michael. Set a good example. I wasn't a very good example. But I tried to be. And I sort of got where they were coming from. It felt good to make Evan cry. When I was upset, when English was too hard, when I didn't want to make them dinner or drag them kicking and screaming to the bathtub, I could just yell, and they would melt down right there. The path of least resistance, or something. Better crying than kicking me. That's probably what my parents thought about me. 

"It felt... really good. I'm not going to lie. It felt good to push kids on the playground. It felt good to know I could steal shit from them and they wouldn't be able to do anything about it. It felt good to know that Freddy's was my place, and anyone who came there couldn't mess with me or the people I liked. I chose three of them, to round us out. A set of four, just like in the cartoons. We didn't like each other much, but we hung out, and that was what mattered. You could say we didn't talk about important things, but maybe trading cards and TV shows were the important things to us. What was I supposed to do? Tell them that I couldn't hang out because my stupid brother couldn't get through a worksheet without throwing a fit? Or that I had to stay home and fix my sister's dolls that she left in front of my room, and it was somehow my fault for breaking them when I stepped on them? Hell no. They weren't going to listen to me in there, so I made everyone else listen outside, and yeah, I did it with my fists, and yeah, it wasn't good, but it got results. It-- got results until it... didn't. Or... it did. Too much at once.

"I know I hurt him before. I know I pinched him, and kicked him, and slapped him, and pulled his hair. I know I did everything I could to get him to fight shit. I know I threw my food at him, and splashed him with water, and chucked shoes at him, because that's how we talked in my house. I know it was bad. I know he-- wouldn't have forgiven me for any of that, even as it stood. But I didn't have to take it that far. I didn't have to-- I knew not to. But I thought it would be funny. He was so scared of them. Of the animals. My real friends, and my only friends. I wasn't thinking, I just wanted to make him cry more, because they'd set up this whole stupid party for him and he didn't even like it, and he didn't appreciate the fact that Dad still threw him parties, and didn't ask him to be grateful afterwards, and that sitting in front of the cake wasn't like being in a fucking electric chair because you knew he was watching your every move to make sure you knew that this came from him. No, he was crying. He was at the best place on earth, and the best person on earth still loved him, and he was fucking miserable. So I-- I thought I'd give him something to cry about. Something that would make my friends laugh, and make them remember not to mess with me. Three birds with one stone. A really solid throw. 

"I... didn't mean to. I really didn't mean to. I didn't know it would do that. They all think I meant it. Dad, and Beth, and my friends, and Mister Emily, and the whole town think I meant it. They think I murdered him. I-- did murder him. But it wasn't on purpose. And nobody would believe me. And then it wasn't just a matter of wanting attention anymore. I would have given... anything, to go back to that. To go back to Dad throwing stuff at me or ignoring me. To go back to Mum... being alive, to be with me in the hours that she was home and could get out of bed with a migraine or stand to be around my father. To have Evan again, and treat him better. But I couldn't. And from that point on I was-- waiting for him to kill me. And I think we have to talk about my father, and Freddy's. 

"I had... a complicated relationship with my father. Like I said, it was good when I was very young. He would talk to me for hours, take me everywhere with him, though part of me thinks that had more to do with his schedule than wanting to spend the time with me. But still, given that even that disappeared later, it was something. And like I said, as I grew older, he had his violent moments. I don't think he ever hit me directly. Mostly he yelled. Sometimes he threw things. Once he cut me across the face with the knife he was holding because I reached for something over his shoulder. To be fair to him, I gave as good as I got -- or as good as I could. He was bigger than me, very much so for the majority of my life. Heavier, stronger, mostly he could just push me or grab me and it was over. But I still tried. It felt like giving up not to fight back. After all, I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. I-- thought I hadn't done anything wrong. I mean, I know I got in trouble. But... I don't know. I had to do something. I was-- scared. 

"It just went on so long that at some point I thought, well, he's going to kill me someday. And I'm going to look like an asshole if I don't make it hard for him. So I did. Every day. Every time he threw something at me I was determined to throw it back. Every time he shouted I was determined to shout back. What was I going to do? Cry like Evan? He wasn't going to kill Evan. Crying wasn't going to make him feel bad for me. It never had. I could lie down and cry and he would stab me or smash my head in or whatever, and it'd be a really embarrassing death-- and I think you maybe understand why I wasn't talking about this with my gang in the junkyard. I don't think their parents wanted to kill them. Maybe sometimes, but they didn't act on it. He did. And I knew it was a matter of time before he succeeded.

"And then he killed my mother.

"I know it was him. I saw her go downstairs. She never came back up. But he did. I know they were fighting before that. I don't care that he cried. He could always do whatever the cameras wanted him to do, and he could make me do it too. All his stupid advertisements-- he said Henry was the personable one, and I guess that's true, but he was selling himself short. But I knew him, better than anyone. I saw him up close when he came upstairs. He knew something. He was hiding something. Her. Her body. I don't know where he put it. I mean-- I do now. Because I found it. But we'll get to that.

"So he had a body count. Which meant I was next. She may have hated me-- but I don't think she wanted me dead. And then... I had a body count too. And mine was public. Really public. And if I ever brought it up again, it was so easy for him to hit back that it just-- stopped having any weight. But I never forgot. I guess I just thought... we were the same.

"And we were alike in a lot of ways. It was more than just the face. His gift for math and machines, he gave that to me. It just came so easily. A wrench felt right in my hand. I could have tinkered for hours and been happy. Whenever he let me into the workshop, God, it was like a fantasy. I watched everything he did and tried to copy him, and then I started learning on my own. It was nice, to share that with him. I think he enjoyed when I was down there with him. We got along in there, because our minds just worked the same way. Oh. And the anger that was rotting away at him-- he gave that to me, too. 

"I know I said-- I fought back. I explained why I had to. Why I couldn't cry. Because he wouldn't care. But that doesn't mean I didn't... want him to care. I wanted him to care so bad, I-- I would've done anything. Anything... and after Evan, it was just... it was gone. I tried. We had good days, good weeks even. But there was no chance of him ever loving me again. I accepted that about as much as I accepted my death: I fought back. I tried to be sweet with him, tried to do everything he asked, thought maybe if I just rolled over for once, that would be the trick. I'd tried fighting and it hadn't gotten me anywhere. Maybe if I was nice, and did what he said... I don't know. I kept switching between one and the other, hoping to catch him, hoping it'd work and at some point we'd synch up. It never did. And I was so used to being angry, sometimes it still-- I didn't do a very good job. But I took care of Beth, I tried to show him that I'd changed. I tried to change. He didn't see it.

"I think... by that point... I was just sort of this amorphous thing that lived with him. I don't think he saw any of me, past a point. Maybe an annoyance. Someone to feed. Someone to... give jobs to. I was bad at keeping those. But I don't even think he registered me as a person enough to really be disappointed or embarrassed. Just a little bit, maybe? But not a lot. Unless we were in the workshop. Then he saw me. He called me smart, said I was his-- I was... 

"I worked at Freddy's for years because I had to. But I loved the animatronics, still. Even after all of that. And I loved how he looked at me when I figured them out. Like we were the only two in the whole world who knew those secrets. It was our place, and our time, and I just wanted to stay there, with him. Because he almost loved me, there. And I wasn't angry. 

"Then Beth died. I left her with him for one day-- fuck, I'd forgotten-- I'd been so busy trying to convince him to forgive me and let me back in that I'd forgotten he killed people. And he killed her. I didn't put the pieces together right away, I was so stupid. But he did. He killed her. He modified my designs and he used them to kill her. I guess he must have regretted it, decided he got the wrong kid, or did us in the wrong order. Or maybe she was just bait. I don't know. But he sent me down there, and they thought I was him. I told him everything that I saw in that place and he still told me to go and find her, and I did it, because I was an idiot. Honestly, just for being that stupid, I deserved what happened.

"They disappeared, one by one, night after night, these things that we had made together, the one that was my sister and the one that was my mother and crunched her bones when it spun on its stage. The fox, my fox, my bear, that he'd modified to lure them in and trap them, just like he had the others. I followed the trail of cables and breadcrumbs to the place they called the Scooping Room. It was her voice, you see. Hers, its, and then theirs. I didn't recognize them or realize the mistake that I had made until the arm of the Scooper had cracked open my skull and parted my stomach, and they pulled the intestines from my abdomen and strung them over the equipment like they were streamers, and it was a birthday party. Their birthday party. I died as they were born, as they took everything from me and then slipped me on like a suit. I felt the metal push and pull at my body that didn't fit them quite right, and they ground my skull down to make room for their own head, and they stretched my legs out past where they should have been, and they tore my throat and sewed it back together again with wires to fit all of their voice boxes and mine. And they spoke in my voice when we left that night. They'd left my eyes.

[wolferals]

🌙TROUBLE🌙

arón piper imagine

🌼@bbaronpiper and I wanted to try something and got some basic keywords for a story and both of us wrote our own interpretation! A so seen little project🌼 hope you like it🌸

and check out her story as well TROUBLE

also check out her writings, shes amazing! @bbaronpiper

*

*

friday july 12th 2019

„Have you ever considered becoming a vegan officer?" you asked the tall handsome cop who sitting in front of you.

He looked at you in disbelief before speaking up:"Y/n, its one thing being a proud vegan but its another thing to carry out violet actions against Mr. Rodriguez. You overreacted and you have to deal with the consequences."

You scoffed and leaned back against your chair.

„And how long is that going to take here?"

He slowly lifted himself up from the wooden chair and turned to you once again, saying:"Apologize to him and maybe he wont sue you."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

He was the one who had provoked you by pushing you out of the way, making you fall. You had just asked him what that had been for and he had responded:"Get out of the way little girl. Maybe go to school instead of protesting against something you cant stop. Maybe eating some meat wouldnt harm you."

And yes maybe you had overreacted by kicking him in his left leg. But how were you supposed to know he had just had surgery?

When you had heard about the protest against animal cruelty in the middle of Madrid you had immediately called your best friend to tell her to make some signs.

And that said friend was now hiding somewhere, just as the cops had arrived she left you alone and ran.

In that very moment you could've screamed but you were too busy trying to hide. But they caught you eventually, thats why you were here.

„Alright Ms. Y/l/n, we only need your personal details and then you can go. You will receive a letter from us in the next week."

You looked up and listened to the police man talking to you. Then you grabbed your bag that's been sitting on the floor throughout this time and walked outside.

„Alright, sit down." An older woman ordered you.

You unwillingly sat down on another chair in the main area of the police station.

There were two other people you noticed. A young girl, maybe around the age of 11 who had probably lost her parents in the city. And a rather damaged boy your age, perhaps a little bit older, who had scars in his face.

Your gaze fell to his hand that had bleeding knuckles.

He noticed your stare and looked at you.

He didnt look very charming you figured. He looked pretty serious and was probably one of those guys that got into fights on the regular or maybe even did drugs.

„Full name." the unpleasant female cop yelled at you.

You looked at her and then took a deep breath. Your parents would kill you, but you had no choice, you were already in deep shit.

„Y/n (y/m/n) y/l/n)" you spoke and looked to the ground.

The lady mustered you and eventually wrote down the information.

„Birthday", „Place of birth" , „family status (parents names and birthdays)"  and other personal information followed. You unwillingly answered each time.

Great, now you were officially fucked.

„Wait here." She said after she slammed the „questionnaire" on the front desk where a young woman took it and started typing something on her computer.

So you just sat there for what felt like an eternity until another police officer entered the room and grabbed a chair to sit in front of the guy with the bruises.

„Alright. So, beating up teenagers is now cool or why did you do it?" he asked him while leaning back.

The guy just laughed and then replied:"First of all, they are not teenagers, they are over 18. And second, this fucker wanted to rob me. I just defended myself."

You listened interested until they both looked at you, making you look away rapidly.

„So you're saying that this boy who is about 5'6 wanted to rob a man who already has a criminal record?"

The guy nodded and added:"I know how this sounds but look what he did to me! The guy can do karate. I just hit back to run away."

The officer took a long breath in before answering:"Well too bad you got caught and are already very well known here Arón."

The guy suddenly looked very mad again and leaned towards the old police man.

„I didnt fucking start this!"

The man got up, put the chair back to its original position and said:"I'll get the report ready Mr Piper."

The guy cursed and then leaned back against the wall.

You were looking at his face. The bruises you had noticed before looked very fresh, there was still some liquid blood in them. But in general he was quite handsome. He had a sharp jaw, a very chiseled face structure and a shaved head. He looked like a criminal, judging from how the criminals on tv look like.

„Qué??" he then asked, making you snap out of your thoughts.

„Uh nothing." you replied and coughed.

You turned your face away from him.

„First time in trouble huh?" he asked and you could hear the grin in his tone.

You looked back at him, looked him up and down and replied sassy:"Duh."

He chuckled at you.

Then he spoke:"Welcome to the real world."

You had to laugh at his word choice. Next he sat up right.

„Did you beat him up?" you then asked out of curiosity.

„Arón" stared right into your eyes and eventually stated:"Did you kick the man out of nowhere?"

You responded with a small laugh. „Yeah." he just claimed and looked around.

„I'm fucked." you mumbled after a couple of seconds.

You could feel him looking at you. „Nah the first time isnt as bad. Plus, you just kicked someone, you didnt kill anyone."

Your head shot around. „Ah someone knows his way around huh?"

Arón chuckled again. „Nah. Not yet." he smiled.

You noticed a little gap between his front teeth. He didnt look as dangerous when he smiled.

„You know I'm good at assuming things about people. And you dont seem like a killer girl." he suddenly said.

You smiled and scanned his face secretly.

„What do I seem like then?"

He grinned and the next thing he did was stare you up and down for a bit. Until he finally spoke:"Rich girl, who lives with her parents. She likes to say what she thinks and sometimes gets into fights because of that. But she's never been arrested before so mommy and daddy are going to ground you for that."

You scoffed at him.

But he wasn't completely wrong.

„Well. Okay." was all you could say. He was pretty right about his statement.

After sitting in the hall for a little, the old officer finally came back and handed you your ID.

„You can go."

You got up and grabbed your bag with your left hand.

„Hey princess, tell mommy and daddy I'm sorry for their criminal daughter." you heard Aróns voice as you wanted to leave the police station.

„Ha ha very funny." you replied and faked a smile that turned into a frown.

„Hey girly, can I crash at your mansion some time?" he yelled after you.

„Sure. But I wont tell you where I live." you grinned and looked at his expression.

He looked chill despite the fact that he was in trouble like you had been.

„Dont worry, I'll find you."

You nodded unbelieving and then finally kept walking.

Now you had to explain to your parents why you were late, and why you were expecting a letter from the police. Fuck.

•

•

You somehow managed to tell your parents exactly how it happened without being yelled at. They believed that it wasn't completely only your fault yet they werent happy about the fact that you ended up at the police. But on the other hand you had never had any problems with the law before and you were usually a good girl, so they werent worried as much as expected. You hadnt told them about the lawsuit yet though. That was a future problem.

As it was now the next day you were just at home, finishing some assignments for your second year of college that would start next week.

You had taken a shower after dinner and then went to your room to watch a show before heading to bed.

To be honest, you had almost forgotten about the whole lawsuit thing when you went to bed that night. It got late, you got stuck with the newest season of your favorite show and actually fell asleep at around 1:30.

A loud noise woke you from your sleep and you sat up right, looking around all confused.

Your room was completely dark besides the streetlights from outside your window.

You heard the knock again and a shockwave went right through your body. Where did it come from? The house was all silent since your parents' bedroom was downstairs and your sister was sleeping at her boyfriends' almost every night.

Slowly you made your way threw the hallway checking where the noise came from. Your first thought was that it was probably the neighbors cat in the backyard or something but then you realized the bangs came from the bathroom.

You grabbed the first thing near you which was a vase that had been standing on a little table in the hallway.

Eventually you walked to the bathroom and turned on the light.

You got scared immediately as you saw a face in front of the window.

After looking at the person you realized it was the guy from the police station. You closed the bathroom door and unlocked the window.

„What the fuck are you doing here?" you whisper yelled.

The guy climbed into the room. He was wearing a black hoodie with some dark grey sweatpants and a black beanie. „You said i could sleep here if I found you. And i did."

You were actually creeped out. So you just stared at him until your confidence came back. „How did you fucking find my house?" you asked and pushed him back a little bit. He grinned and leaned against the sink. „I stole the paper with your information."

Your eyes widened. „You what??" you asked him in disbelief. „You're welcome. Now they got nothing against you. For the police you dont exist."

You didnt know if you should thank him for it or hit him in the face for doing such a stupid thing. What if the police thought you stole it? „So where can i sleep then?" he asked you and took a look around. His bruises were still visible but now looked a lot more clean and healed.

„Uh." you stuttered and thought about his question.

„My parents are right downstairs. You cant just sneak in here and expect me to offer you my bed. I dont know you, you could be a psycho!" He laughed at you and stepped closer to you. You were intimidated because you couldnt step back any farther. Your back was already touching the wall next to the bathtub.

„I wont hurt you, I just need a place to sleep." You looked right into his eyes that were only inches away from yours.

He was so close he could probably hear your heart pound. It was about to jump out of your chest. You then offered him to sleep on the small couch in your room, if he promised to disappear before your parents found out.

So you passed him a blanket and two pillows and finally turned off the light the second time this night.

„Goodnight." you automatically whispered. You heard a little chuckle from the other side of the room before he whispered back a quiet:"Gracias."

•

When you woke up a couple of hours later your room was lightened by the sun. You rubbed your eyes and sat up. You almost had a little heart attack when you saw someone laying on your couch. But then you remember what happened only 4 hours before. The guy who's name you werent sure about -was it Arón?- was sleeping peacefully, his closed eyes facing you. You noticed he had taken off his shirt. You didnt see his stomach but you could see his naked, muscular arms over the blanket. And you saw some tattoos on them. And a small tattoo on his chest.

He looked quite cute when he was sleeping.

You then checked your phone and thought about what you'd do today until you heard footsteps coming upstairs.

Your mom! She always says goodbye before work. Its like a mother-daughter tradition because once when you were a kid and she didnt say bye you had a panic attack because you thought something happened to her. You jumped up from the bed towards the couch.

„Wake up! Wake up! You gotta hide, my mom's coming!" you shook him to wake him up. He replied with a raspy groan and eventually opened his eyes.

„Huh?" he asked confused looking at you. -„Hide! My mom!" You whispered and waited for him to get in the closet.

But since he took so long realizing what was going on, it happened what had to happen.

Your mom was standing in your room, staring at both of you. You in your oversized shirt and no pants and this strange boy shirtless. You were fucked.

„Uhh y/n?" she asked and looked at you in confusion.

You were all staring each other down until Arón spoke up:"Mrs. Y/l/n, im so sorry. My name is Arón, I'm your daughters boyfriend." He shook her hand smiling. Your mother on the other hand looked confused as hell. Just as you. Did he just call himself your boyfriend?

„Oh. I didnt know she had a boyfriend." Your mom replied and then actually chuckled. She laughed! She wasnt mad?

„I have to go to work now but nice to meet you Arón. See you later honey, i think we have to talk."

She said after none of you said anything.

„Likewise" Arón spoke before your mom left your room and closed the door.

„What the hell?" you yelled at him and lightly punched him in the chest.

„I had no choice. What do you want me to do? Say that I broke in here because we met at the police station?"

You ran your hand through your hair and then said:"Please go. I'm in enough trouble already. Please leave."

He nodded, then grabbed his sweater and put it back on.

„Can i sleep here tonight too? I dont really know where to go." he asked while picking up his things.

You rolled your eyes but nodded softly.

„Thank you!" He smiled and came up to you.

„Sure." you replied and crossed your arms.

He opened the door to your room and whispered a „see you tonight" before finally leaving your house.

You didnt really trust this guy. Something about him was off but you didnt know quite yet what it was.

•

•

Arón's been crashing at your place for a week now and a lot of weird things happened inbetween. You only saw him at night when he climbed through your bedroom or the bathroom window. Then you usually went to bed and in the morning he left. You never knew where he went and you also didnt know why he couldnt sleep at his parents'.

Your mom and dad had both talked to him before and actually believed he was your boyfriend. Around them he acted like an angel but you knew he wasnt. I mean, he's never insulted you or been rude but he certainly wasnt an example of a good guy.

One night as you were sleeping, him laying on your couch, you were woken by someones voice talking in your room.

Arón was walking around your carpet, speaking into his phone loudly.

„Whats up?" you whispered and looked at him all sleepy.

He showed you he needed a second and kept discussion in spanish.

He was pretty loud and you were worried your parents might wake up from his voice. And he seemed mad, almost aggressive.

He then hung up and before you knew, he slammed his phone on the wall. It broke immediately, shocking you intensely.

„Jeez what the fuck!" you spoke and got up from the bed.

Arón in the meantime put on his jacked and wanted to walk out of the room but you chased him, trying not to make too much noise walking downstairs.

„Where are you going?" you asked.

„I need to see someone before this certain person wakes your parents." he boldly spoke and opened the front door.

You were only wearing shorts and a top and it was chilly outside. But you were far too concerned to grab a jacket.

You closed the door behind you and ran after him.

„Y/n go to bed." he then ordered as he kept walking.

„No i need to know whats happening."

He scoffed at you and finally stopped as you both reached a person standing around the corner.

Aron was just standing there staring at the dark dressed man.

You were right behind him, carefully taking a look.

„Arón." the guy finally spoke and came up to you both, grabbing aron by the jacket.

„What do you want?" arón asked the man, sounding as if he was about to rip his head off.

„Needed to see you little brother." the guy replied and then noticed you hiding behind Aróns back.

„Oh got yourself a girlfriend huh?" he grinned and walked around him to get closer to you.

„Hey you." he smiled and reached out to touch you but you backed off and mustered him.

„She's hot." the guy then said and turned around to arón again.

„What the fuck are you doing here Juan?" Arón finally spoke up. „Taking you home. Mom is worried about you."

Aron laughed fake before claiming:"Oh really?"

Juan stepped right in front of Aron and looked at him.

„I like your new haircut brother. You look like a prisoner."

Arón didnt reply, he clenched his fist as if he was about to hit.

„If you keep going like that, you will be soon." Juan added and smiled at him.

„Fuck off im not coming home." arón mumbled and wanted to step back but Juan grabbed his arm and answered:"You. Are coming with me. Because I say so."

Aron freed his arm and yelled:"Get out of my life."

You just watched as they were yelling at each other. The reason for Aróns stubbornness wasnt quite clear for you until he said one specific thing:"Mom and Dad dont want me back! All they want was you. You're the only son they ever wanted."

He was jealous of his big brother.

What you figured out from their conversation, Juan was a troublemaker himself but then started studying and was now about to be a lawyer. Apparently their parents had always supported him, even though he used to be in deep shit often times. Arón kept claiming that he was „nothing to their parents".

At some point the situation escalated and Juan grabbed Aron rather harshly and Aron pushed him back. Which made Juan fall to the ground, hitting his head on the concrete.

Juan looked even more furious than Aron then.

He got up again and basically jumped arón.

You felt useless, watching those brothers fight in the middle of the streets.

But suddenly you decided to do something.

You went up to them and jumped on Arons back to make him stop.

„Stop this shit before someone calls the cops!" you tried to calm them down.

But Aron was so furious he threw you right off.

You landed on your back rather harshly, moaning out in pain. It had been really fucking painful.

He didnt even notice that he had hurt you, they kept yelling at each other until you heard police sirens getting closer.

Juan seemed to notice as well and let go of Aron.

„You know what, fuck you! You're useless to this family. Come back after achieving something!" Juan yelled and just disappeared between the streetlights and the bushes.

„Fuck." Aron cursed and finally turned around to you.

„Run!" he then said as the police car turned around the corner.

You got up in pain and grabbed his reached out hand.

„Faster!" he told you and pulled you with him as he was running super fast. You almost stumbled over your own feet.

„Where?" you just asked and concentrated on running as fast as you could.

Usually you hated running but right now it felt good. Free kind of. You had never run from the cops, especially not with a known criminal who wasnt as bad as you thought.

„Fuck, run faster." he yelled but you couldnt go any faster.

Eventually he let go of you to make you jump into a bush.

The cops were right behind you but didnt seem to notice you hiding, they ran past you after Aron.

And aron on the other hand did something you hasnt expected. He stopped running.

He turned around and put his hands up in the air.

What the fuck was he doing?

The police reached him and put him in a secure grip in a fast motion. He couldve gotten away easily if he hadnt stopped!

They grabbed him by the arm and pulled him through the alley of trees towards the police car.

You looked him straight in the eyes as they walked past you. He inconspicuously smiled at you.

What was he doing?

As they sat him in the police car you slowly got out of the bush.

So you just stood there. They couldve seen you but you didnt care, you just wanted to see what was happening.

Some of your neighbors were outside looking as well.

Before the car took off you felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket.

Who would text you at 3am?

You took it and opened the message.

You started to smile and looked up to see him smiling at you from the police car.

Arón:"Can I crash again when I get out?"

⭐️

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Girl Next Door (Part 8) - Late Night Talks

Summary: Dean and the reader have an impromptu late night date by the fire...

The Girl Next Door Masterlist

Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic!Dean x baker!reader

Word Count: 2,900ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Enjoy!

Reader’s POV

“Hi,” said Avy when you answered your front door Thursday night.

“Well hey cutie. Where’s your dad or uncle?” you asked, poking your head outside.

“Avy,” called Sam, the two of them appearing on the road, out on a walk from the looks of it. “What are you doing, kiddo?”

“We didn’t say hi to Y/N today! Or Jack!” she said. Sam shook his head at her but laughed, giving you a shrug.

“I’m all for saying hey to the cute next door neighbor,” said Dean, turning to walk up the driveway.

“Yeah, well I’m hungry,” said Sam. Dean sighed, flashing you an apologetic smile as he started to step back. “I can wait.”

“S’okay. We got boys night tomorrow to look forward to and we got our date on Saturday,” said Dean, giving you a wink. “I’ll call you later, sweetheart.”

“I will be eagerly waiting for it.”

“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N,” said Dean on the phone just after ten that night, a giggle in his voice.

“Hello, Mr. Winchester,” you said, laying back in bed, staring up at the ceiling. “How was your day?”

“Oh, so eventful. Three fender benders, I got to take Avy and two other kids to summer camp and then Sam told me about real estate law for three hours. Three hours. I did not realize there were human beings that actually enjoyed that stuff,” he said.

“I think Sammy’s bored,” you said. “Sorry. Sam.”

“I like when you call him Sammy. Makes me all happy inside,” he said.

“Well I super like when you’re all happy inside,” you said. You bit your bottom lip, Dean chuckling a little. “How’s he doing? No medical emergencies this week?”

“We’re all good. Avy’s got her epipen and we got an extra one around we all know how to use. Sammy had a MRI and x-ray this afternoon hence the talking to me about the most boring thing on earth in one of the most boring places on earth,” he said. “They said his brain looks normal and his skull is healing from where they cracked him open like a melon. Dude’s even got a little bit of peach fuzz growing back on his noggin.”

“That’s great,” you said. “Sounds like he’s out of the woods.”

“He’s still on no TV until his checkup next week but he’s allowed a bit of light reading. He hasn’t had a seizure so they think odds are good he may be able to avoid them as long as he keeps taking his medicine regularly...sorry. You must already know all this stuff,” he said.

“Well yeah but Sam’s my friend. I like hearing that he’s getting better,” you said. Dean was quiet, something creaking in the background.

“You want to come over? Feels silly talking on the phone when you’re right there,” he said.

“Yeah,” you said. “I want to see you.”

“Meet me on my back deck,” he said.

“Sure you want to leave Sammy all alone in the house, Mr. Mother hen?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Doctors told me I don’t have to watch him so so close now. Still close another week or so but...get that cute tush over here, Y/L/N,” he said with a laugh.

“You gonna make me?” you teased, grabbing your big oversized cardigan and heading downstairs.

“Maybe I will,” he said, a door opening on his end before you hung up. You hummed and slipped into your flip flops, tossing on the cardigan before turning on your backlight. He was sitting outside in one of the chairs, lighting a match. When you were closer you saw he was lighting one of those candles in a bucket, Dean smiling as he tossed the match in. “Well if those ain’t the cutest little pajamas. Little shorts and a way too big band tee. Looking hot there, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you said, pulling a chair over close to him, tucking your legs up, covering yourself with your cardigan.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi.”

He gave you a long kiss, long enough to let you feel the softness of his lips, to let you tug on his shirt collar when he almost moved away. You stayed with it until you needed a breath, Dean licking his lips.

“I can’t wait to take you out on Saturday,” he said.

“Can I take you out on Sunday? A lunch date?” you asked.

“Sure,” he laughed. “You got plans for us or something?”

“Perhaps,” you said with a smirk. “You’ll find out.”

“Oh, a mystery. I love mysteries, especially movies,” he said.

“What other kinds of movies do you like?” he asked.

“Ones where I know the bad guy is gonna lose,” he said.

“Me too,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. He put his arm over your own, pulling you close. “Dean?”

“Mhm?” he asked.

“I just realized...I don’t know where you live when you’re not here,” you said.

“Oh it’s just a little apartment on east side of town,” he said.

“Not in those Garden estates, right?” you asked.

“...I know it’s sketchy but it’s cheap,” he said.

“Dean. I don’t...it’s not my place to say but...I don’t feel comfortable with you living in a place like that,” you said.

“Comfortable?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“People get mugged and stabbed and shot at over there all the time,” you said. “It’s the bad side of town for a reason.”

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“Why don’t you live with Sam? He’s got a big house,” you said.

“I don’t need to be a freeloader, Y/N,” he said. You lifted your head, Dean staring blankly at you. “What?”

“Dean. You literally changed your entire life so you could be with Sam. You take him to the doctor’s and you make sure he’s okay and you changed your hours at work and you play with Avy and take care of everything around here. You’re so not a freeloader,” you said.

“I don’t need to live in a big fancy house,” he said. “I got a bed and a roof and I’m good.”

“You don’t need a big house. Someplace you know, safe, is all I’m asking for,” you said.

“Why does it matter to you?” he asked.

“I wish you would have a bit more concern for yourself,” you said.

“Why?” he asked.

“I care about you. Sorry I asked,” you said. You watched the candle for a few minutes in silence, listening to the summer night. Dean lay his head on your shoulder and you relaxed, leaning yours against his.

“I’m not this guy you seem to think I am. I’m a whole load of screwed up. You don’t want this, want me, Y/N,” he said.

“I think I’ll make that decision for myself,” you said. His head turned up a little, your own lifting, catching another one of those boyish looks on his face. “I don’t quite understand why you are the way you are, why everyone else is more important in your head, but I don’t care. I see something in you I think you don’t so I’m sorry but you’re stuck with me and part of that is me wanting you to be safe and taken care of too. So get used to it.”

He stared at you for a long time, turning his head back down on your shoulder. He looked down at the small fire and you put an arm around his shoulders to keep him close, a gentle hum leaving him.

“Our parents used to fight. A lot,” he said after a few minutes, taking your hand in his and running his thumb over your skin. “From as far back as I can remember. Before Sammy even. I hated it but I hated it even more when I realized how much it upset Sammy, made him scared when mom and dad got loud. I got scared too but I never told him that. He was a little baby and I was four years old and I’d pick him up and get all his blankies and I’d carry him outside and we’d just sit out in the backyard in the grass where it was quiet. He never cried once I got him outside. I would talk to him or sing him songs until he was happy again. The fighting didn’t stop when we got older so I kept taking him outside, taking him for walks, taking him to the park, to the mall, anywhere it was quiet. I moved out the second I could, the second I was done with high school. I wanted my quiet. But Sammy was stuck home so that summer, he lived with me...and I told my parents to stop, to just stop, or else Sam was going to stay with me when school started up again. He was a smart kid and he needed a good place to get through high school so he could go to college and be a lawyer like he wanted. My entire life, Sam has been more important than me. He is. To me he is. But as a kid, everyone started to become more important. My friends, choosing not to go to school so Sam had a little more for him...I built my fucking life around that kid and I don’t regret a second of it but I wish...I wish I wasn’t learning something now I should have learned as a kid.”

“Me too. But I’ll be here to let you learn with,” you said as you hugged him. “You’re important Dean.”

“Why do you even like me though? I understand that women are attracted to me but the few that I really liked, really let in...I’m not relationship material,” said Dean, sitting upright, giving you a frown. “I’m good for looking nice and that’s it.”

“You are very handsome, I’ll give you that,” you said as you smiled at him. “But that’s not why I like you, Dean. There’s a lot of guys out there. A lot of guys that are nice and all that. I never met a man as good as you though. There is something...good about you, about the way you care for others and treat them. There’s a cocky flirt and then there’s the boy that insists on walking me home when I live right next door. There is goodness in you. There’s a dark pit too. I’m sorry if that scared other people in your past and I’m sorry if they made you feel inadequate for that. But I don’t care. I don’t mind the dark so much. I live in the dark a lot too. If our brothers are anything to go by, I say you and I got a chance to brighten those dark places up a bit.”

“How the fuck were you single,” he said, lifting his head up, a big smile on his face.

“Ex-workaholic, med school dropout with a set of dead parents and an unstable brother who decided to move to a new town to start a small business in her kitchen and not really talk to people,” you said. Dean smiled, pulling you to lean against him.

“I don’t think you can fix me, Y/N. This is who I am,” he said.

“Well you’re not broken so there’s nothing to fix,” you said. He opened his mouth but looked at you instead, giving you a kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m gonna be here all summer long but...I’ll talk to Sammy about getting me someplace safer to live after,” he said. “Maybe here, maybe a different apartment but someplace better, for both of us.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, bumping your nose against his. He started to smile, biting his bottom lip. “What?”

“I like making you happy,” he said. “You can see it in your eyes when you really are.”

“You should really see your eyes right now then,” you said, the dim light making the green in them look almost like they were shifting from light to dark.

“I’ve been told I have pretty eyes before,” he said.

“They are very pretty,” you said, so close to him you could see the variations in the color in his iris. “I like this.”

You danced a finger to the edge of his eye, along the few crinkles that were there in that moment.

“A smile that reaches your eyes. Now that’s pretty,” you said.

“I could look a lack a sack of potatoes and I got a feeling you wouldn’t give a shit,” he said.

“True but you’d be a very handsome sack of potatoes,” you said, Dean chuckling and giving you a kiss. “I bet you’d be sweet potatoes.”

“You’re kind of a loser, you know,” he said, laughing as he kissed you again.

“Not as big of one as you,” you said, giggling before he stood up in front of you. He tilted his head and put his arms under you, sitting back down in his chair with you in his lap. “We do not both fit in this thing.”

“Not really...gonna have to get some better chairs back here,” teased Dean, your arms going around him to keep yourself from falling backwards. “Okay, this is obnoxiously uncomfortable.”

“Think I’ll take that as my cue to head on back home,” you said, shifting to stand up but Dean keeping his arms around you. You rested your head on his shoulder, letting out a small yawn.

“You’re adorable,” he said.

“I’m quite aware,” you teased, Dean nuzzling you for a moment.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” he said, standing up with you in his arms. You were surprised when he didn’t set you down, instead walking onto the grass and towards your house.

“You’re very strong,” you said.

“You’re very sleepy,” he said. “You’ve had a long week. You should sleep in tomorrow.”

“Can’t,” you said, staring up at Dean. “Tryin’ be a good example for Jack and all.”

“Sleep in. He knows he needs to be at work on time. Jack is really enjoying it there so far I think. He’s getting along with the guys. Give him a little room on that leash, let him show you he can get himself out the door on his own.”

“It’s only been a few days,” you said, Dean setting you down on your back porch. He smiled and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, glancing behind you into the house.

“He’s also not a child,” said Dean, smirking as his eyes watched something inside. “Case and point, big brother’s watching us from the couch right now.”

“He was always protective,” you blushed.

“Seems to be a lot of that going around,” he said, giving you a peck on the cheek. “Sleep in. If Jack don’t show up to work, I’ll hear about it, trust me, and I’ll give him a talking to.”

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll try to catch up on sleep.”

“Good girl,” he said, stepping off the porch. “See you at boys night tomorrow.”

“Later, Winchester,” you said, slipping inside with a wave. You locked up behind yourself, padding through the kitchen to the family room, Jack shutting his book. “Done spying, Jackie?”

“Still sneaking out to talk to boys, hm?” he hummed.

“Oh shut up,” you laughed. “It’s my house. Come on, get to bed. You got work early.”

“Cas gave me this book to check out. It’s really good,” said Jack.

“You like going to him?” you asked. Jack nodded, letting you pull him to his feet. “He’s not prescribing you anything?”

“He doesn’t think I need it. He said we’d start from scratch and I actually feel a lot better not taking all that stuff anymore,” said Jack.

“Whatever works, I’m all for,” you said, dragging him towards the stairs. “Finish your book tomorrow. You need sleep too.”

“Alright,” he said, following you up the stairs. He veered off to the guest room that was now his, catching your wrist again when you headed for your own. “If Cas thinks I need to do something, like medicine, I will. I trust him. You too.”

“I know. Goodnight, Jack,” you said, giving him a hug. He returned it, smiling when you moved back. “Love you.”

“I love you too, sis.”

A/N: Read Part 9 here!

[eddiesasspbrak]

“I read your diary.”

Prompt inspired by one line of dialogue.

Read on AO3

Eddie reads a diary he believes to be Richie's and is pretty sure he just admitted to being in love with him.

3k+ words. Oneshot

That day at lunch, when Richie had announced that his parents would be out that evening, it was decided they would have a little Losers get together at his house. At least once a week they gathered at one of their houses for a game night or to view a movie or TV show they all wanted to watch. All seven of them squished on a couch, under blankets and just enjoying being with one another. Not having any parents around to yell at them when they got too loud was always a bonus.

Upon entering the Tozier home, they kicked off their shoes before going up to Richie’s room to peruse his collection of movies, ditching their backpacks by his bed. The only downside to being at Richie’s, for Stan and Eddie at least, was that most of his movies were of the horror genre and neither particularly liked them. There was a good chance Eddie would end up staying over at Richie’s so that his mom didn’t find out he’d watched something scary in case he woke up with nightmares.

Eddie sat on Richie’s bed while the rest looked, knowing that nothing he said about their choice of movie really mattered. Either way he’d be traumatized for the next week. He looked at the movie posters on his walls and the scattering of polaroids of the seven of them he’d taped up haphazardly. They’d spent so many years together and with their senior year coming to an end, Eddie couldn’t help the feelings of anxiety that gripped him whenever he thought about going their separate ways. Stan had asked once if they’d still be friends when they were older, and Eddie thought about that a lot now. He hoped so. He didn’t want to lose any of them, but they couldn’t be sure what would happen until they lived it.

“Eds, we picked a movie, let’s go.” Richie said with a grin that made Eddie fall in love all over again.

He looked to the door to see all of his friends were already leaving the room. When he stood to follow, he bumped their bags and knocked a few of them over, spilling the contents. He cursed under his breath and knelt down to pick up the things that had spilled while also mentally berating his friends for leaving their bags unzipped. Stuffing a textbook back into Bill’s bag, he went to stand only to stop when something under Richie’s bed caught his eye. Amongst the clutter that littered the floor beneath his bed was a blue notebook with a sticker of the hear, speak and see no evil monkeys on it.

Eddie glanced at the door to see he was alone, his friend’s voices carrying up the stairs. Reaching for the notebook, he felt like he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Sure, it crossed his mind that it could have just fallen from one of their backpacks when they fell, but it was far under the bed, partially covered by a sweatshirt. Given the number of things under his bed, there was a chance it had just been dropped and forgotten. Still, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking that it had been hidden there on purpose. Listening carefully for any of his friends coming back up the stairs, he cracked the notebook open and read at the very top “Dear diary”.

He let the cover fall from his fingers and close. There was no denying it then. Richie kept a diary, and this was it. Eddie knew he shouldn’t read it, but he was so, so curious. Richie was the last person he expected to keep a diary and he had to know what kind of things he wrote about. He’d honestly been expecting it to be filled with jokes he’d thought up.

Maybe it was because Eddie had been secretly in love with Richie for years, or maybe it was just curiosity getting the better of him, but he opened the notebook to the last entry and began to read.

“Dear diary, I’m in love with my best friend.”

Eddie inhaled sharply and read that first line over and over again. Who did Richie consider his best friend? Sure, Eddie wanted to say it was him, but there were six of them to choose from. He could mean any one of the Losers. He had to know, so he kept going.

“He was cute again today.” That ruled out Beverly.

“Everything about him is cute. He’s shorter than me, not by a lot, but enough to be adorable.” Richie and Bill were the tallest of the group, with Bill standing an inch taller, so that ruled him out too.

“At lunch there was a spider on the table, and he freaked out. It was so cute I couldn’t stop looking at him.” Eddie, Stan and Ben had all three been afraid of the spider, and Mike had been the one to kill it. So, not Mike either.

“His locker is by mine and I just stand there and stare at him when he gets his books. I don’t think he’s noticed.” Stan’s locker was in a separate hallway, down by Bill’s. Both Eddie and Ben had lockers near Richie’s.

“His locker is so organized and clean and precise, not at all like mine. I’m probably too messy for him.” Ben’s locker wasn’t a mess, but it was usually cluttered, and he often dropped things while trying to pull out books. Eddie’s on the other hand…

Eddie closed the notebook, unable to read anymore. He’d read enough to confirm that it was him that Richie was writing about. Richie was in love with him and Eddie didn’t know how to proceed. Did he tell him that he knew? Did he confess his own feelings and hope that he wouldn’t deny that he loved him too? Not in a million years did Eddie expect this. Richie was always talking about the girls in their classes that he liked and making vulgar jokes about them. Maybe he liked boys and girls. Or girls and Eddie.

“Eds! Are you coming?” Richie’s voice came from the stairs, causing Eddie to jump and throw the book back under his bed.

“Yea…I’m coming!” He shouted back.

Eddie stood and placed his hand to his chest, trying to calm himself down. He had to go downstairs, squish on the couch next to Richie and pretend like he didn’t know they were both in love with each other. Easy, right?

*

Occasionally Eddie was brave, but when it came to matters of the heart, he was a coward. He’d chosen not to stay at Richie’s that night, too afraid to have that conversation with him about what he’d read. Too scared to admit that he’d read what he wasn’t meant to. Instead, he let it torture him over the weekend, the words playing in his mind repeatedly. Every dream he had was about Richie, he invaded his every thought, causing his stomach to churn with a mix of butterflies and anxiety.

When Monday came and he could no longer avoid facing him, he thought he might actually become sick. He’d met his friends like he did every morning. He was the last one to pull up the bike rack, locking his bike up and avoiding eye contact. His first two classes of the morning he was alone, but by third hour he was with Richie again, sitting side by side and pretending like he wasn’t on edge. Apparently, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it as Richie noticed and stopped him after class when he tried to speed off.

“Eds, what’s going on with you?” He asked, pulling him to the side of the hallway by some lockers.

“Nothing.” Eddie answered too quickly.

“You’ve barely spoken all day and won’t look at me. Did I do something?”

The look on Richie’s face was worried and it made Eddie feel bad for making him make that face. He didn’t like a sad Richie. He liked when he was smiling and cracking lame jokes that made him laugh. It was his fault he was looking like that and he couldn’t keep it in any longer. Had to let him know what he’d seen and admit that he’d done something wrong. Betrayed his trust. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too upset when he told him he felt the same.

“I…read your diary.” Eddie lowered his voice, leaning in a bit so only Richie could hear.

“You did what now?” Richie cracked a confused smile as his eyebrows knit together.

“I’m sorry. I know it was wrong. I found it in your room and I only read one page, but it was where you were talking about your crush. Richie…I know…”

“You know what?” Richie was full on grinning now and it made Eddie nervous for some reason.

“I know who you like!” He said in a harsh whisper, darting his eyes around the hall to see if anyone was listening.

“How could you, Eds? That’s such an invasion of privacy.”

“I know. I’m really sorry, but I think we need to talk about what I read…”

“What did you read?”

“That you like m-.”

“Richie!” Eddie’s words were drowned out by Bill, who was rushing toward them.

“What’s up, Billy?” Richie asked, his eyes lingering on Eddie’s red face a moment longer before turning to their friend.

“I think I left s-something at your house last week. Can I come by after school to look for it?”

“Yea. What did you lose?”

“It’s my…um…noteb-book.” Bill said, his face flushing slightly.

“What’s it look like?”

“B-b-blue, with a monkey sticker on the f-front.”

Eddie felt like time slowed down around him as he came to a very abrupt realization. It was Bill’s dairy he’d read. He was talking about Stan. Stan was shorter than him, Stan had freaked out about the spider, Stan’s locker was by his, Stan was just as organized as Eddie was, if not more. He felt his cheeks heat up and felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Just a minute ago, he’d been about to confess his feelings because he thought Richie felt the same. Now he felt sick and so, so stupid. God, he was so stupid! Of course, Richie didn’t keep a diary. He didn’t love Eddie.

“You ok, E-Eddie?” Bill asked.

When he focused on them again, they were both staring at him. His eyes met Richie’s and his fight or flight instinct kicked in. He chose the latter. Turning on his heel, he took off down the hall. He heard both boys yelling after him, but their voices only pushed him to run faster. He pushed through the doors that lead out to the fields where he made a beeline for one of the dugouts. They were well hidden and wouldn’t be in use this time of day. Sometimes other students made out there or smoked there, but usually not so early in the morning. He sat on one of the benches, dropping his bag by his feet, and put his head in his hands.

If Bill had interrupted them even a second later, Eddie would be in a much worse spot. At least this way he didn’t have to deal with rejection and messing up their friendship. He’d think of an excuse for why he’d ran away, think of what he was going to say to make up for the misunderstanding. For now, he was going to wallow and deal with his self-loathing in peace. Part of him wondered if he should call his mom, tell her he wasn’t feeling well so he could go hide out at home for the rest of the day. As it was, she was probably going to get a call that he had missed his fourth class of the day. He didn’t really care about that at the moment though. Her lecture would be a welcome distraction from the noise in his head.

Eddie heard the footsteps approaching and tried to make himself small so he wouldn’t be seen. There was a chance it was someone looking to use the dugout for some debauchery, but they could use the other one. This one was occupied, and he wasn’t leaving. It could also have been a teacher doing a scan for students breaking rules because of course they new what they were used for. What Eddie hadn’t been expecting was for the person to jump down and sit beside him on the bench.

He tilted his head to the side and looked up to see Richie sitting there, leaning back slightly on his hands and looking up and out at the sky. Eddie’s stomach sank as he kicked himself for not just going home where Richie wouldn’t be able to find him so easily. He dropped his hands from his face but stayed hunched over, his elbows on his knees.

“You ok?” Richie asked, still not looking at him.

Eddie nodded. It didn’t matter that it was a lie. He didn’t want to talk about what was going on in his head. Especially not with Richie.

“What happened back there?”

“Nothing. I made a mistake. Sorry.” Eddie pushed up off the bench and stood, but before he could walk away, Richie grabbed him by his wrist.

“You said you read my diary.”

“Yea. It was Bill’s. I know that now. Like I said, I made a mistake.”

“So, you aren’t upset anymore?”

“I wasn’t upset in the first place.”

“You can’t lie to me, Eds. You looked like you were about to cry. So, who did you think I liked that was so terrible and isn’t now that it’s Bill who has a crush?”

“I can’t tell you that. It would be betraying Bill.”

Richie huffed out a laugh and tugged lightly on Eddie’s wrist, willing him to sit back down. Eddie complied but kept a distance between them, gently twisting his wrist out of his grip. They were quiet for a moment and Eddie wondered why he wanted him to stay if he wasn’t going to speak. He still wanted to be alone, to be very far away from Richie. He could practically feel the heat radiating off the other boy and he was too hyper aware of every small move he made next to him.

“It’s Stan, right?” Richie finally said, startling Eddie out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Bill’s crush. It’s on Stan.”

“Yea.” Eddie said, because obviously they all knew.

“So, you thought I liked Stan?” Richie grinned.

“Yea.”

“And it’s a bad thing if I do?”

Eddie’s throat went dry and he thought about bolting again. He didn’t want to hear Richie say he had a crush on anyone else. Especially not another boy, especially not their friend. It would kill him, and he definitely could not handle it.

“No…” His voice came out in the whisper.

“Well, I don’t.”

Eddie closed his eyes and let out a silent breath of relief, thanking whoever was listening.

“Eddie.” There was something in Richie’s voice that made all the hairs on Eddie’s arms stand on end. A softness when he said his name that was so laced with caring it made him want to cry. How could he not love this stupid mother fucker?

“Eddie. Look at me.” He said when he got no response.

“We have to get to class.” Eddie said, ignoring him and reaching for his bag.

“I love you.” Richie said as Eddie stood again, stopping him in his tracks.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Seconds turned to minutes, Eddie standing with his back to Richie, not responding to his confession. He screamed at himself inside his head, tried to will himself to move, to say anything instead of leaving Richie to sit there agonizing over what Eddie might be thinking. It wasn’t until he heard Richie move to stand up, that he finally snapped out of it and turned to face him. The frown on Richie’s face was enough to knock the wind from his lungs and make his heart hurt for him.

“Richie…” Eddie managed to say.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Richie said. “Just forget it.”

“No. No, I can’t. Richie…” The tears began to fall before Eddie could stop them. It was too overwhelming, too many thoughts racing through his head all at once. “Richie, I love you.”

His hands gripped the front of Richie’s shirt, his knuckles turning white against the fabric. Richie’s raised his hands to softly hold Eddie’s face between them. His expression was unreadable as his eyes searched Eddie’s face.

“You know I don’t mean as a friend, right?” Richie asked.

Eddie nodded, afraid to try to speak as the tears wouldn’t stop. He loved him so much. So much that it hurt sometimes. He was all he wanted, all he thought about. Knowing he felt the same was too much. Richie’s thumbs swiped at the tears that trailed down his cheeks as he continued to stare at him for a long moment. It made Eddie nervous but the look in Richie’s eyes was enough to push those feelings away. A look like he was gazing upon something so precious.

Richie leaned down and kissed him on his forehead before pressing his own against it. Letting his eyes drift close, Eddie let himself enjoy the moment of closeness with the person he loved. Let himself get lost in the feel of his hands on his face, the way he could feel his chest rise and fall beneath his hands as their breath mixed together between them. This, Eddie thought, was a little taste of what heaven must be like.

“You really love me?” Richie asked.

“Yes.” Eddie said without hesitation. “Only you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Eddie nodded and a second later, their lips were pressed together causing his breath to catch. He released Richie’s shirt with one hand and trailed it up to rest against his neck. Richie brushed his fingers against Eddie’s cheek as he let go to grab Eddie’s other hand with his, lacing their fingers together. In this moment everything was perfect, and they felt indestructible. Together.

[alaina-achilles]

i

((practice challenge - all prompts included here:))

Dreams.

Dreams are a funny thing, right? As a kid, you have so many dreams, I’m gonna be this when I grow up, I’m gonna wear this when this happens…

But how many do those actually happen?

I always feel like I dream differently than other people. Well, not all dreams, but some particular ones. And when I have a dream that I feel so strongly about (usually they are things that I actually dreamed about during my sleep), I write it down, in my dreams notebook. And well, there were so many of them.

Okay, I’m getting distracted again. So, right now, I’m standing in the middle of my bedroom, screaming.

Because I have just graduated from college and I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing with. My. life!!

“Alaina?” Mila, my younger sister asks as she runs into my room and jumps onto my bed. “What happened? Who broke up?”

“The prince and Evie.” Another voice says and we both turn around to face our older sister.

“That’s old news, Lexi.” Mila drawls. “The Selection’s here already. Remind me again why aren’t you guys applying?”

Lexi rolls her eyes and pushes Mila to make space for herself on my bed.

“Well, back to the drama queen here. What happened?” Lexi asks, looking at me in confusion. Mila follows her gaze before they drop to the sheets of paper on my desk.

“What are those?” Mila asks in curiosity. She makes a move to take one of them, but I beat her to it by shoving them all into a messy pile.

“That.” I say as I shove them into a folder and slip it in between two books. “Is private.”

Well, they are actually job applications. I got a bit impulsive just now and flipped through my notebook of dreams, randomly selecting a few dreams, printed out the job application forms and filled them in.

“It’s not important.” I add as I see my sisters looking at me with narrowed eyes. “They were just weird random stuff that I did which I should’ve never done and I will throw them away tomorrow afternoon.”

“You can always be a teacher.” Lexi comments, knowing what I’m stressing about. “Mom likes her job a lot.”

“But I’m not Mom.” I point out as I flop onto the bed next to them. “I mean I love kids, but I just… I just can’t see myself being a teacher. Nor a lawyer like you.”

“I’m gonna be a psychologist. A therapist. A something related to psychology.” Mila replies happily. Sometimes I wish I was 13 as well. She turns around to face me. “And as a future psychologist, I think you should give writer another try. I mean you have published a book!!”

“But it’s not a best-seller. It’s only popular because it’s about a cliche bad boy story that many teenage girls like reading about.”

“That’s not true. I think there’s a lot of potential in your writing. You just need to have inspiration, write a good book and be famous.” Mila finishes with a smile.

“I think Mila’s got a point there. Just give it a go. One year. And if you aren’t writing a best-selling novel at the end of the year, just become a psychologist like Mila will be. You have the bachelor degree.” Lexi points out. I think about what my sisters said and decide they are right.

I’m gonna give writing another try.

----

“ALAINA LEXI MOM DAD COME NOW!” I hear Mila screaming from the bottom of the stairs. I put down my book in annoyance and go downstairs.

“What is it, honey?” Mom asks.

“THEY’RE GONNA ANNOUNCE THE SELECTION RESULTS!!!” Mila all but screams.

“Oooooh!” I cry. “I do wanna watch this! Dramaaa” I sing.

“I don’t know why you two are so excited for this! It’s not like any of us entered our name.” Lexi drawls, but sits down next to us on the couch while our parents sit down as well with an amused smile.

“I know many girls who did. I would like to see who’s gonna be on the tv screen for the next few months.” I explain, without looking away from the tv screen. The TV zooms to a closed up of the Prince who has a relaxed smile on his face that does not really reach his eyes. I don’t blame the guy though, it must be rough for him to jump from a supposedly stable relationship to well, 35 girls. Definitely glad I’m not the prince.

“Maybe it’ll be Delilah. She’s pretty and nice.” I comment.

“Or Faye. She’ll be quite the drama queen.” Lexi says.

“SHUSH!” Mila hisses. Lexi and I roll our eyes at each other and turn back to the screen.

“Miss Alaina Achilles of Atlin, Three.” The reporter announces.

Alain-

WAIT WHAT??

I vaguely hear my family screaming and questioning me, but I can’t hear anything except my heartbeat as I run into my room to check the folder that I meant to throw away a few afternoons ago but forgot.

It’s gone.

And then I scream.

Because, one of my dreams I made when I was six was to be in the Selection, to be a princess. And I thought it’d be fun to fill in the application a few days ago. BUT I NEVER MEANT TO SEND IT.

Then my eyes widen as I realize what must have happened.

“CAMILA DAISY ADRIANNA ACHILLES. I’M GOING TO STRANGLE YOU TO DEATH!” I yell as I run downstairs to kill my younger sister.

----

Four hours later. I’ve finally stopped screaming and attempting to murder my sister.

“How did you even do that, Mil? I thought you had to have your photo taken and everything?” Dad asks.

“Um… I kinda wrote a letter saying that Alaina isn’t feeling well and can’t make it to the applications and sent in a photo instead.” Mila explains in a small voice. “I swear I didn’t know they would allow that…”

“Wait…” I say suddenly. “If you sent out my application. SHIT MILA DID YOU SEND OUT ALL OF THOSE APPLICATIONS I FILLED OUT?”

“Language!” Mom cries but we all ignore her. It’s not like I ever swear anyways.

“Yeah… All six of them.” Mila admits in a quiet voice.

“AND THIS GETS EVEN BETTER!” I yell, throwing my arms into the air. “Do you know what those applications are? As an elf writing letters back to children for Santa Claus, and… and.. And… I don’t even want to rename the applications i filled out for. They were all crazy.” I mumble to myself. “Maybe the Selection is already the least craziest one.”

“See?” Mila says gleefully.

“Oh shut up, you little- I can’t even find any words to describe you. I’m not talking to you.” I yell in anger. With that I storm up the stairs into my room.

Oh no.

What has my little sister got me into?

----

By the time I am to leave Atlin, I am feeling slightly better about this whole thing. Thanks to Lexi and Dad. They convinced me that this will be a nice and unique experience and a change of scenery will probably give me more inspiration for my writing. And I finally get to be on a plane! I’ve never been on the plane before, not because we can’t afford it, but Mom has an extreme fear of flights. We usually went travelling in other means of transport.

My heart is pounding in my ears as I climb the stairs up to the plane. This is it. I’m going to be on a plane!

"Sorry if I'm bothering you, but I'm Sara Nguyen. I hope we can be plane buddies? And who knows maybe a permanent bud for the rest of the selection?" A voice says, interrupting my thoughts. I look up to see a girl smiling at me. She motions at my luggage. "Would you like a hand?"

My eyes widen as I realize she must be another selected. Wow, this is really happening, I’m really in the Selection. I quickly collect my thoughts and straighten my clothes to make sure it’s tidy. My parents have always taught us to be clean and tidy, especially in front of strangers.

“hi Sara! I’m Alaina Achilles! Sure I would love to!” I say to Sara with a bright smile. “and thanks for offering, but I think I got this!” I place the luggage to its place and sit down next to the empty spot next to Sara. I look at the two girls opposite to us, one is falling asleep and the other barely acknowledges us. Well, I guess not every Selected is nice. So I turn to Sara instead, she seems nice. “Have you ever been on a plane before?”

She tells me about the times she’s travelled and when she learns that this is my first time, she surprises me again by offering her hand for me to squeeze.

“I-“ l begin as I look at Sara’s hand hesitantly. “I mean thats very nice of you bu-“ the plane starts to move and my eyes start to widen and immediately reach forward to squeeze Sara’s hand. She is nice enough to pretend not to see my hesitation and just let me hold her hand while she talks me through the take off. I like this girl. I decide.

“Thanks. But you’re right, I’m glad I got on this plane! At least now I have a new friend?” I ask. I have never been alone without at least one of my sisters with me before and I know I will miss them very much.

"Just holler my name and I'll be there for anything. I've got tips for most things. If not I'll create one on the spot." Sara answers with a nod. I do a happy dance internally. "I think we are indeed friends. After all it would be rather awkward if two strangers held hands. Either way I'm glad we both get to be on the same flight." She proceeds to tell me about her favorite things about being on a plane and I look out the window and agree with her. The view is amazing! We chat more about the flying experience and being the writer I was, I tell her how lovely it’ll be to be able to write about this experience. My new friend immediately offers me her notebook, but I once again decline politely. I know once I start writing, I’ll ignore everything around me and I don’t want to do this to Sara and miss the opportunity to get to know her. So I just tell her that I’ll do it later and enjoy the moment now.

Sara asks me if I’ve ever written anything that she might’ve read. I hesitate as I thought of my published book. A few years ago, at 16, I wrote a cliche bad boy story named “the Bad Boy Ruined my Project” and published it online. Because it’s cliche and about bad boys, teenage girls immediately took a liking to it and two years later, I got a publishing offer. I was ecstatic and accepted it. Ever since then, my agent has been pushing me to write a new book. And that’s when it became complicated. I was 16 when I wrote that cliche book and at 18, I’ve matured and changed and honestly, my book wasn’t that well-written, it just suited the taste of what teenage girls wanted to read. I’ve tried telling this to my agent and she kept telling me that was bullshit and if I wanted to be a famous writer, I had to please my readers. This is one of the reasons why I decided to start thinking of pursuing another character. I want to write things that I want to write, not just things people want me to write about.

But at the end of the day, I am grateful for my book and its success. At least it got me noticed.

So I tell her about my published book and she tells me about her career. Sara is to take over her dad’s company. Sensing this isn’t her favorite topic to talk about, I change the topic and ask her about siblings.

We quickly get into a fun conversation about siblings and I can already tell we’re going to be the best of friends in the Selection. Hopefully.

And for a while, I feel like I’m home again as we laugh and joke about the Selection. About how dramatic it will be with 35 girls under the same roof, going after the prince. About how weird it will be to have a brother joining the selection! (Sara said her brother almost joined HAHA). We are enjoying our conversation so much that I don’t even notice we have landed.

"We're here," Sara breathes out as we both look out the window. I smile as I take in the surroundings around me. I’ve been here before during a long road trip, but the airport is totally new to me.

“It’s beautiful!” I exclaim. Then, I turn to face Sara and put out a pinky. “Okay before we get off, let’s make a pact. Let’s promise to let this selection ruin our budding friendship.”

"It honestly is. Last time I came here I was 13 years old." Sara replies with a shake of her head. She  looks at me and smiles as she sticks her pinky out and links it with mine. "I promise that this selection will not ruin our friendship. You know you can call me by any nickname. I prefer them rather than Sara. My family call me bun."

And she manages to surprise me for the third time. Wow, a nickname. I can tell it’s not something she goes around letting people use.

I laugh and give her a hug. “Bun.” I say. “I love that. it’s so cute and so you!” We break away when one of the other girls clears her throat and tell us it’s time to go. I smile embarrassingly and roll my eyes at my new friend as we begin our journey to the palace. And because of Sara, I already feel a hundred times better about the selection. If all goes wrong, I know at least there will be one genuine friend who will go through all of this with me together.

"This is reserved for you. It's strange if someone else calls me that. So welcome to the Bun club." She says with a straight face but that didn't last long because she ends up giggling. She shakes her head as the other girls hurry us. "Well, let's see what is awaiting us." She smiles encouragingly at me.

I laugh at her words and nod. “Honored to be in the club.” I look at the other girls amusedly, as they check their makeup. “Let’s see!” I say as I pull my new friend along with me.

Sara nods as she links arms with me humming happily as we both get off the plane. "By any chance can I call you Al?" She pauses as she thinks about other nicknames. "Or Lai? Or Achi! Or do you already have a nickname you are comfortable with?”

I cock my head to the side and think about her question. I don’t really have a cute nickname or anything like hers.

“My sisters call me A.” I say with a giggle. “But Achi sounds so cool as well! Just call me either!” I add, like the sound of Achi.

"I'll call you, Achi then!" She replies with a grin. "It's my own personal nickname.”

“Achi.” I repeat quietly with a smile as I follow the guards escorting us.

Bun and Achi.

I like this combo.

----

Sara and I enter the palace together where we are immediately ushered into a huge room. People keep pushing me from stall to stall, asking me questions, but answering those questions themselves before I can even think of an answer. Luckily, they didn’t need to do too much to my hair and body as Mom always makes sure we are well um groomed. I only got my nails painted and fitted into a red dress. I’ve never seen myself as a red person, I’m usually more of baby pink, purple, white and dark colors. But I have to admit the red dress looks amazing.

I then proceeded to have an interview where I told them a bit about myself and then my makeover.

By the time, I finish the interview, I am so tired that all I want to do is go back to my room and read or talk to my sisters.

Oh wait, I’m still mad at Mila.

Oops.

====

((THANKS @itssara-oc​ ANA FOR THE WONDERFUL RP ♡ i love the connection between our two girls:))

[elisaphoenix13]

Don't Touch Me

His day had been pretty miserable. He had a pop quiz in Spanish that he wasn't entirely sure he passed, he had to keep Harley out of a couple of fights, and on their way home from school...it started raining. Heavily. He and Harley were soaked the first minute they got off the subway and headed to the tower. Except this time there was no cat to rescue. Tibbs would probably think they looked like drowned rats when they got home and Peter wouldn't blame him. He felt like one at the very least and if Harley's grumbling was anything to go by, he did too.

"Think someone will make us hot chocolate?" Harley asks and Peter shrugs.

"If they haven't already."

Once they arrive at the tower and enter, they make their way into the private elevator and Peter once again apologizes to the receptionist for the watery mess they leave behind. He always apologized and she always waved him off with a smile, but he was raised to have manners. If he wasn't polite, he was afraid Ben and May woukd be rolling in their graves and quite possibly come to haunt him. Ever since meeting Stephen and listening to his stories of whatever he encountered, ghosts didn't seem as far fetched as he used to think.

When they reach the penthouse and the elevator doors open, both boys grin when they find Wanda in the kitchen and holding two steaming mugs out in their direction. They throw their backpacks toward the stairs and rush over to each take a mug of hot chocolate in enthusiastic gratitude, and Peter sniffs his suspiciously. Wanda smiles softly at the action.

"No mint. Marshmallows are on the counter." She adds and walks toward the elevator.

"Thanks again Wanda!" Peter says and she waves over her shoulder before disappearing onto the elevator.

He turns toward the bag of marshmallows on the counter and cackles when he finds Harley's  cheeks stuffed full like a hamster as he actually adds some marshmallows to his hot chocolate. It was probably only because he couldn't fit anymore into his mouth.

"Hey! I want some too!" Peter gives Harley an unimpressed look when the older teen grabs a single marshmallow and drops it into Peter's mug. "How generous of you."

Harley ignores him to munch happily on the fluffy sugar currently in his mouth and Peter steals a few more from the bag to put in his mug before chugging it down. Seconds after he drains the last few drops, a portal opens up near the living room and Peter sets his empty mug in the sink so he can go greet the sorcerer that steps into the room. Peter doesn't even make it three feet from Stephen though before the man throws out his hand to stop the teens approach.

"DON'T!"

Peter freezes at the tone and even Harley was on alert at the uncharacteristic shout. They both study the doctor curiously and notice him practically curling in on himself, his hands shaking violently, and if Peter listened carefully, Stephen's thundering heartbeat. He even had a wild look in his eyes that looked both pained, tired, and frightened all at the same time and it had both boys worried.

"Mom?" Peter asks carefully and Stephen flinches when he tries to move closer.

"Don't touch me." The man whispers and immediately breaks Peter's heart as Harley asks FRIDAY to get Tony.

Did he do something wrong? His spider senses weren't going off like they had with the evil version of Stephen, so Peter knew that this was the right one, but he was keeping Peter away. The sorcerer just mumbled to himself and flinched away whenever the teen tried to get closer and it hurt. The hurt got even worse when his father showed up and was able to get much closer to Stephen, and only made him wonder if maybe he was the cause of Stephen's...pain. That was what this all looked like at least.

"Honey?" Tony soothes as he slowly reaches out. "What happened baby?"

He stops for a moment when Stephen flinches again but reaches out again until he's gently cupping the other's cheek. Stephen whimpers at the touch and it turns into a sob as he continues to mumble almost incoherently as Tony tries to make out the words. Even Peter was having trouble figuring out what Stephen was saying and he had enhanced senses. Words sounded like 'door room' and 'dorm mom' was all Peter could put together and when he told Tony, his father's eyes widen.

"Stephen? Did Dormammu come back?" Tony ask gently and winces when he gets a single sharp nod as an answer. "Was is just like last time?" Another sharp nod. "Okay. Okay. I'm going to touch you a little bit more so we can get you up to bed alright?"

Peter and Harley watch Tony lead their trembling mother up the stairs to the master bedroom, and Peter climbs the stairs himself minutes after to go up to his own room. Watching Tony be able to touch Stephen with little problem and hardly any protest or repercussions was a bit of a blow for him. It made Peter think that Stephen didn't trust him at all. He knew that was a stupid thought, but the relationship he had with the sorcerer was important to him. Just like his relationship with Tony. They were his parents, and he really wanted to do whatever he could to help them and prevent the possibility of losing them.

From what Tony said downstairs, he lost Stephen several times again and didn't even know it. He and Harley were griping about the rain when Stephen was fighting off a powerful deity by putting it through a time loop again and dying endlessly. Each death more horrendous than the previous one. Deaths he only knew as little detail about as Stephen could possibly give him when he told the family about his first encounter with Dormammu.

"Pete?" Tony raps on the door with his knuckles. "Can I come in?"

"...sure." Peter responds quietly and his bedroom door opens. Tony walks in and closes it behind him before sitting on the bed next to Peter and putting an arm around him to pull him into his side.

"I know what you're thinking. Mom doesn't hate you or anything like that."

"He wouldn't let me touch him."

Tony exhales through his nose. "He's a little touch averse right now and he didn't want to accidently lash out at you. He'd much rather take that risk with me than with you or Harley. If he hurt either of you--"

"He would never forgive himself." Peter finishes softly. "Is he going to be okay?"

Tony stares ahead at the Star Wars poster on the teen's wall. "Eventually. It might take a day or two of TLC on my part, but yes."

"...okay."

Tony pats his back and tells him and Harley to order pizza when they get hungry, and then kisses the top of his head before he leaves Peter's room. Access to the family floor was cut off to everybody who didn't live on it for the rest of the evening so Stephen could rest quietly. It didn't matter that the room was sound proof. The fewer problems they had to deal with, the better. Harley only left the floor once to get the pizza when it arrived, and he and Peter binged watched a tv show while they polished off the pizza. Thankfully Tony went down to get some for himself and Stephen before they dug in, and they went up to bed when they both started to nod off in the middle of one of their episodes.

Peter didn't rest well that night, and he only knew that because when he woke up in the middle of the night, he found himself standing in the middle of the living room. He knew for a fact that he had fallen asleep in bed, so that and finding Harley standing nearby and watching him closely was proof enough that he had been sleepwalking again. It very rarely happened.

"What are you doing down here?" Peter asks  and Harley sighs.

"Making sure you didn't hurt yourself. I didn't know you sleep walk. You scared the crap out if me." He admits.

"It uh...only happens when I'm stressed or upset...or both."

Harley nods and picks up Tibbs from one of the couches and hands him to Peter. "Here. Take your cat and go back up to bed. Don't fall on the way up."

That was as nice as Harley was going to get and Peter wasn't about to make fun of him for it right now. Harley could have left him to bump into furniture or hurt himself, but he stayed and watched Peter just so that wouldn't happen. He may act aloof and like he didn't care, but Harley had a big heart. Nothing like Peter's of course, but he was nice in his own way. He cared about his family, and like Peter, would do anything to keep them.

So Peter goes up to his room and goes back to bed.

True to Tony's word, Stephen was more amiable to touch and mingle when a couple of days had passed, and the first thing he did was crawl into Peter's bed. All of the stress and anxiety that the teen didn't even realize he was feeling or had went away after he exhaled from a deep inhale. Tea leaves and incense calmed his nerves as well as the slightly trembling fingers that weaved gently through his hair. Tony had tried to spend some time cuddling with Peter over the past couple of days, and it helped a little bit, but there were just some things that only Stephen could do. Everything about his embraces and cuddles were firm but gentle. Tony's were more...secure than soothing.

"I'm sorry for pushing you away." Stephen says quietly into the top of the teen's head. "I imagine what I was feeling was what you feel during a sensory overload times one hundred...if I had to explain it."

"Yikes. Remind me not to complain next time I have a sensory attack." Peter half jokes and Stephen chuckles quietly.

"You're allowed to complain. It may not be as severe as that...or maybe it is...but you experience it more often."

"Are you sure you're okay now?"

"...I'm much better than I was." Stephen admits. "Your father was a big help and incredibly patient."

They lay there quietly for a few minutes, the only sounds Peter heard being Stephen's calmer heartbeat and Tibbs purring at the end of his bed. The calm atmosphere was only temporarily interrupted when Harley came into the room to lay on the bed on Stephen's other side, forcing the eldest of the three to lay on his back so both teens could curl into his sides.  The peace lasted for another few minutes as they both enjoyed being able to cuddle Mama Bear again until Harley eventually opened his mouth.

"Mom hog."

Peter grabs a loose pillow and whaps the other teen with it, and Stephen sighs.

"It's a miracle the quiet lasted as long as it did."

[phantasticworks]

If You Don’t Love Me, Pretend - Chapter Three

hello! im back with the third chapter! lmk what you think and i hope you enjoy it!

read on ao3

Words: 11.7k

Summary: Dan and Phil continue the foster parent application process.

The next few days all blur together. Phil goes back to his own flat on Sunday evening, Dan had a meeting Monday night, and Phil had to work late Tuesday, so they decided that Phil would come back over to Dan’s after work Wednesday. That way they could go to the information meeting together that evening. Dan was sluggish and exhausted Monday, which felt ridiculous since he’d been lounging around practically all weekend.

When Wednesday rolls around, Dan is so excited he can hardly stand it. He’s more than ready to start the fostering process, and he knows that Phil is excited too. He’d caught him watching fostering story-times on YouTube the other day. Dan checks Facebook while he waits for Phil to get there, having already changed into jeans and a grey t-shirt for the meeting. He didn’t think this was like a formal thing, and he refused to look professional if he didn’t have to.

He hears the door opening downstairs but doesn’t bother moving from his position on the sofa. He’d decided long ago that one of his favorite positions to lounge around in was upside down on the sofa, his head dangling at an awkward angle, with his legs thrown over the back of it. They probably had about fifteen minutes before they needed to leave here to be on time anyway, so he didn’t want to move just yet. “I’m upstairs!” He calls out instead, allowing his best friend to come to him.

“I grabbed your mail on the way in. You need to make a dentist appointment, according to them. You also got a- oh. What are you doing?” Phil’s voice carries up the stairs, and Dan’s position doesn’t really allow him to get a good look at him until he comes to stand nearly in front of the tv.

“Hi. I’m just hanging out.” He grins, and he thinks that maybe the blood rushing to his head is making him delusional, because that joke is absurdly funny to him for some reason. “Hanging out?” Phil just shakes his head slowly, an incredulous look on his face.

“I can’t believe I agreed to pretend to be engaged to you. You’re really weird.” The older man declares, moving to place Dan’s mail on his coffee table. “Are you ready to go? We probably shouldn’t be late.” Phil crosses his arms, staring down at Dan. When Dan raises his gaze, he’s basically just given a perfect view of Phil’s crotch, and only when he tilts his head can he gaze at his disapproving face. He’s grateful for the fact that his face is already flushed, or else he’d surely be blushing at the way his eyes dart back to Phil’s crotch before he lets his head fall and his gaze falls to his ankles instead.

“Sure. Help me up.” He swings his arms up, waiting patiently while Phil helps him sit up, supporting his back as Dan swings his legs off the couch. “Thanks.” He groans, holding his throbbing head as soon as he’s right-side up again.

“No problem,” Phil smiles, then shakes his head at Dan. “I think you’re getting too old for that, Dan.”

“You’re getting old.” Dan retorts childishly, standing and grabbing his black denim jacket off the sofa where he’d left it earlier. He shrugs it on as he glances over at Phil, his hands halting their movements as he takes in Phil’s appearance. “Oh, no. Nope. We are not double-denim-ing.” He crosses his arms.

Phil looks confused until he glances down at his own black jeans, red and white striped shirt, and his light blue denim jacket. He immediately starts cackling, shrugging at Dan with a smirk. “Well, I’m not changing.” Crossing his arms to mirror Dan, they stand staring at each other like that, as if they’re having a staring contest.

“Well I’m not changing either.” Dan grumbles. “This is one of the only shirts that looks good with this jacket, and I’m not changing both.” He isn’t wavering, but he also considers that part of him is just secretly a bit smug that they look like a matching couple, even if it was completely unintentional.

Phil shrugs, turning to head down the stairs. “Then I guess we’re going to match. Come on, traffic might be bad, so we need to get there with time to spare.”

Dan mutters under his breath the whole way out the door and to his car, and eventually Phil asks him to either speak loud enough where he can hear what he’s complaining about or just shut up. Dan opts for the latter, mainly because he’s running out of insults.

Finding the office where they’re supposed to meet with Hazel at isn’t very difficult, but Phil is a terrible navigator. Dan decides this after they’ve taken two wrong turns, since Phil can’t tell his left from his right. “I’m just directionally challenged, Dan!” In response, Dan announces that his navigator privileges are being revoked.

“You’re lost, Phil. Lost.” He retorts as he makes a turn that would allow them to backtrack enough to get to the street they needed to be on.

“No, we are lost.” Phil waggles his engagement band in Dan’s face. “That’s what being engaged means. Together.”

“That’s so stupid.”

When they walk inside, Dan takes in all the information posters with pictures of happy, smiling children, and he almost cringes. Sure, they serve a purpose, but do they have to be everywhere? He puts on a smile when the receptionist looks up at them, casually gripping Phil’s right hand with his left, figuring they needed to look light a proper couple from the start.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” The blonde asks with a smile.

“We’re here to see Ms. Hayes, I’m Dan, and this is Phil.” He introduces them, gesturing to his best friend as he does so.

“Oh, of course. Hazel’s office is down the hall, second door on the left. She’s expecting you, so the door should be open.” The girl smiles at them, gesturing to the hallway.

“Thanks. Come on, dear,” he adds, tugging Phil along.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Phil’s elbow digs into his side. “Dear,” he mocks quietly.

“Shut up,” Dan hisses. “It’s for appearances, like the rings.”

Phil mumbles something that sounds like it ends with, “… because it bothers me.” But Dan ignores him, knocking lightly on the door frame of the room they’d been directed to. A girl with light ginger hair is sat at a desk, a paper in one hand as her eyes flit back and forth from it to the computer screen in front of her. She startles at the noise but smiles when she sees them.

“Hazel? I’m-“ He begins, stepping into the room.

Hazel stands, cutting him off as she does, holding her hand out for him to shake. “You must be Dan! And this is…” Her eyes shift to Phil and she blushes slightly, and Dan realizes then that he’d never specified that his fiancé was a man. Fuck, would this ruin it? He hadn’t even considered asking a woman to do this, mainly because he wasn’t close enough to any in order to ask something like this, but still. Was homophobia a thing in this situation?

“His fiancé. Phil Lester,” Phil steps in, dropping Dan’s hand in favor of shaking Hazel’s, an easy smile on his face. The older man may get awkward during things like shopping trips, but he was an expert on interviews.

“Of course! Please, have a seat.” She gestures to the chairs in front of her desk, and Dan is relieved to see that she doesn’t seem disgusted by the fact that they’re a same sex couple. Hopefully her initial reaction had just been surprised because she hadn’t thought to expect it. “Let me grab my paperwork, and we’ll get started.” She smiles at them.

They both nod, and Dan pipes up, “Sounds great.” He shares a nervous glance with Phil, who smiles at him reassuringly. Dan isn’t sure why, but he inexplicably feels that he should be holding Phil’s hand right now. The chairs they sit in are close enough to allow it, but he keeps his hands to himself.

“So,” Hazel says conversationally as she shuffles some papers around on her desk. “Have you guys discussed who’s taking whose surname? When you get married, of course.” She smiles, as if this is something they’d thought about.

They glance at each other before looking back at her, both of them answering simultaneously, “He’s taking mine.” Immediately after, they both turn to face each other in surprise.

“Um-“ Phil starts, clearly realizing that they may have messed up, considering she might take this to mean they hadn’t thought about it, which might make their relationship look unrealistic.

Dan laughs, then, both nervous and because, somewhere in his brain he has registered that it was funny that they’d said the same thing. He turns to Hazel, placing his left hand over Phil’s right and patting gently. “We’re hyphenating them. So, technically, we’re taking each other’s.” He lies smoothly.

Phil nods along, before shrugging. “I personally think we should just combine them. We could be the Howlters, Dan.” He grins at this, and Dan rolls his eyes, because of course Phil would come up with something stupid and ridiculous that makes it actually sound like they’d had it thought out.

Hazel laughs at this good-naturedly, not missing a beat. “I think either are good choices, personally. So, you two are going to be co-fostering, correct?” She confirms, moving swiftly into the reason they’re here.

“Yes,” Dan nods, and it’s only then that he realizes he hadn’t removed his hand from Phil’s. He glances over at the older man, who only gently turns his hand over to allow Dan to lace their fingers together. Dan swallows hard, feeling conflicted about how normal and safe the contact feels. He quickly turns his gaze away, looking at Hazel instead.

“Great! So, basically all we needed to discuss today is how the process works, logistics, things like that. If you feel you need more time after this meeting to think about it, then you can just give me a call when you’re ready to take the next step, or just go ahead and begin the application process, if you’re certain about your decision.” She pushes a pamphlet across her desk for them to take, and Dan glances at Phil once before grabbing it. They both knew they’d be filling out the paperwork at the end of this session, but they’d humor her, anyway.

“Sounds great,” Phil says with a smile.

“Well, let’s get started!” Hazel smiles broadly at both of them before picking up a paper. “So, the first thing you need to be aware of…”

---

“That was exhausting,” Dan whines as they climb into the car nearly an hour later. Phil snorts from beside him, where he’s putting his seatbelt on.

“This was your idea.” He reminds him easily, staring out the window as Dan begins driving back to his -their- flat.

Dan sighs, running a hand through his curls. “Yeah, I know. I don’t regret it or anything, it was just a long meeting, and I feel like I knew all that already.” He glances over at Phil, who hasn’t looked at him since they got in the car. “Are you alright?” He asks softly, bringing his hand down to rest on Phil’s wrist.

Phil looks down at the contact, but just nods. Dan waits for him to speak, and when it becomes obvious that he isn’t going to, he draws his hand away. He’s surprised when Phil catches it, intertwining their fingers and squeezing tightly. “Eighty percent, Dan.” He turns his wide blue eyes to Dan then, and the brunet is confused. “She said that eighty percent of children in England are in foster care.” His eyes are shining, and Dan suddenly understands his silence.

The older man hadn’t always been sentimental, but as he’d gotten older, Dan guessed he’s gotten more in tune to his emotions, and now that something like this has come up, he was getting overwhelmed. “I know,” he says softly, squeezing his best friend’s hand tightly in his own. “We’re doing a good thing, you know. We may not have the best methods, but we’ll be doing a good thing.”

Phil nods, staring out the window again, but not releasing Dan’s hand. The younger man didn’t mind; he was happy to hold hands with his best friend like this and being a source of comfort always filled him with pride. He felt like he had spent so much of his life being someone who relies on others, it was really nice to feel like he was needed every now and then. Especially since this was his best friend in the entire world, and probably one of the only people Dan trusted with his own life.

“Can we stop by my flat? I want to grab some of my things since it’s on the way.” Phil requests suddenly.

Dan nods, glad Phil had spoken up when he did, as the street he lived on was coming up. “Sure.” He drags his thumb against the back of Phil’s hand in small circles, hoping to comfort him.

They walk into Phil’s flat in silence, and Dan trails around the living room while Phil goes to his room to collect whatever he’d wanted to get. They would probably need to start moving his things in sooner or later, and he smiled at the idea of having sleepovers every night with his best friend. It would be just like it was before, when they lived together, except they’d have more space and be more financially stable. Also, they’d have a child (children?) to take care of. No big deal.

“Alright,” Phil says as he comes out of his room carrying a backpack. He had a pillow under his arm, and he blushes when Dan raises an eyebrow. “I’m kind of a cuddler when I sleep, so-“ He begins explaining.

Dan laughs, nodding. “I remember, Phil. We used to share a bed all the time, remember?” The reminder throws him back to when they lived together before, the nights spent passed out in their couch, limbs overlapping as the Mario Kart menu screen flickered.

Phil nods. They leave quietly, and Phil instinctively locks the door behind them. Dan notices then how stuffed Phil’s bag appears to be. As they walk to the car, he asks, “So, how long are you staying?”

Shrugging, Phil tosses the bag into the backseat as they climb into the car. “I figured I’d stay the night, and might as well just start gradually moving my stuff in, right?”

Dan nods in agreement. “Yeah, course.” He hesitates before glancing at Phil again, then clearing his throat. “You know I don’t care how long you stay, right? I mean, yeah you’re moving in soon and all, so obviously you’ll be stuck at that point, but if you want to just start staying with me now, I don’t mind.” He says softly.

Phil stares at his window before nodding slowly. “I know. I just…” His lips quirk downward for an instant. Blink and you’d miss it. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Of course.” Dan mumbles, bringing his hand up to intertwine with Phil’s again. “Do you want Domino’s tonight?” He asks as he parks.

Phil shakes his head, squeezing Dan’s hand once before pulling away and opening the door to get out. “We’ve had a lot of junk lately, we need to start cooking more. Get into the habit now.” He explains, shouldering his backpack as they walk inside the building to the elevator.

“Okay. What would you like? I think I’ve got some stuff for stir fry, or I can do some rice?” Dan suggests.

Biting his lip, Phil shakes his head. He looks hesitant before he raises his eyebrows. “Breakfast?”

Dan laughs in response, nodding. “Sure. If that’s what you want.” He shrugs, unlocking the front door now that they’re there.

After taking their shoes off, Phil disappears into the bathroom to take a shower and change into pajamas, and Dan reckons he needs some space to process how he’s feeling. Dan goes about his work in the kitchen after shrugging off his jacket and tossing it carelessly onto the table, pulling out eggs and some bacon and bread for toast. It may not be a full English, but it would have to do until the next time they could go grocery shopping.

He doesn’t realize it, but as he cooks he starts singing to himself softly, and he’s not even aware enough of it to really realize what it is that he’s singing. It’s just a habit from living alone for so long and needing something to occupy himself with while he does mundane tasks like this. It’s not until he hears a voice that he stops, jumping in surprise.

“What?” He spins around to face Phil, who’s stood on the other side of the island in his boxers, water dripping from his hair onto a holey tee-shirt that he’s had since before Dan even met him.

“I said that you sounded nice. What was that?” Phil says, leaning on the counter casually, as if he hadn’t nearly given Dan fifteen simultaneous heart attacks by sneaking up on him in his pants.

“Oh. I don’t know. What did it sound like?” His mind is drawing a blank, helpfully choosing to fixate on a bead of water meandering down his best friend’s throat.

Phil shrugs in response, looking at him with a small smile. “I don’t know, you listen to more music than I do. You sound better than you used to, though. You used to sound like a dying cat when you’d sing in the shower.” He grins broadly. His insult earns him a dish towel thrown directly in his face. “Oi!” He laughs.

“You can’t make fun of the chef and expect to get away with it. Besides, you’re getting a free concert, so I’d shut the fuck up if I were you.” He says lightly, flipping over the bacon. He feels the (now damp) dish towel hit his back, and he sighs exasperatedly before picking it up and tossing it to lay over his shoulder.

Phil doesn’t respond immediately, and Dan barely has time to grow suspicious before Phil’s hand is covering his mouth. Dan’s eyes widen, and he struggles to shift his head to the side to glare at his best friend. “What are you doing?” His voice is muffled, and he has half a desire to lick Phil’s palm.

Shrugging, a grin stretches across Phil’s lips. “I’m shutting the fuck-up.” There’s a brief silence before Dan huffs, unimpressed. This is followed by a squeal, courtesy of Phil, and Dan only grins as he takes a step back. “You licked my hand!” He whines, waving his hand around pathetically before rubbing it across Dan’s shoulder blades, effectively ridding his hand of Dan’s saliva.

The brunette only shrugs and gestures to the cupboard on the other side of Phil. “Get some plates out, you spoon. If you’re going to be in my kitchen, you’re going to be useful.”

“Our kitchen,” Phil sing-songs. His tongue pokes out between his teeth when Dan pinches him, but he does go to retrieve the plates. “Speaking of which,” he says hesitantly.

“Yeah?” Dan says curiously, glancing at him before turning his attention to the bread that needed to be toasted.

“I think I should start paying half the rent. Like, when I properly move in.” Phil says casually, not meeting Dan’s eyes as he sets the plates down.

Dan’s jaw nearly drops then, and he stares at Phil incredulously. “No. Absolutely not, that was part of the deal, remember? Your lease was going out and moving here just made the most sense.”

“Dan,” Phil sighs in exasperation. “I’m not trying to like, take your flat from you or something, it’s just-“ he begins.

Cutting him off quickly, Dan shakes his head again. “No, I’m not even entertaining this with you. No. You can help with, like, groceries, or something.” He shrugs, stepping back over to stir the eggs. Phil’s leaning back against the counter beside the stove, and Dan purposefully keeps his gaze from lingering on his shirtless form.

Sighing, Phil shakes his head. “That’s not fair to you, Dan.” He says softly.

Dan shrugs. “I’ve been paying rent here on my own for years now, Phil. It’s not a problem, really.” Without waiting for anymore argument, he scoops some eggs and bacon on a plate before handing it to Phil. Perfectly timed, the toast jumps out of the toaster then. “Breakfast is ready.” He smiles, turning to go over to the fridge for some orange juice. Even if it wasn’t morning, breakfast food was cause for breakfast drinks. Phil sighs, but apparently chooses to drop the subject, at least for now.

They eat at the table in the kitchen, mostly out of laziness. For some reason, the past few hours felt years long.

“Wanna go to bed and watch some anime on my laptop?”

Phil nods, following him down the hall. They pass the office on the way, and Dan remembers something.

“Do you think we should go ahead and change up the office, or just wait until we know for sure how many kids we’ll be fostering?” He asks as they make his way into his- their- room.

Phil shrugs. “I think it would be easier to just wait. The guest room has the dresser and everything already, we should probably just change the bed. I think the rest can wait.” He suggests, climbing onto the right side of the bed, pulling the sheets and duvet over himself.

Dan nods, pulling out his pajamas from his dresser. He doesn’t even think about it before tugging his shirt off and replacing it with the softer sleep shirt with ugly spacesuit-wearing cats. That is, until he turns to say something to Phil and sees him staring pointedly at the ceiling. Dan almost asks why, until it occurs to him that he’s just started stripping in front of his best friend. “Oh- er- sorry.” He mumbles before shuffling into the en-suite bathroom to change into his pajama bottoms and brush his teeth.

He nearly curses himself for putting Phil in a position where he feels awkward, but then remembers that Phil had been lounging around in just a t-shirt and pants since after his shower. Suddenly flooded with a feeling of annoyance at the fact that Phil could seemingly just do whatever he wanted, Dan makes the decision to leave his pajama bottoms in the bathroom, unworn. He normally slept in just boxers, unless it was cold, but he wouldn’t go that far. The t-shirt he was wearing was pretty long and reached around the end of his boxers, so it’s not like he was being indecent or anything. He brushed his teeth quickly, mentally singing the happy birthday song, a childhood habit he’d never been able to kick.

As soon as Dan walks out of the bathroom, he realizes that maybe Phil wasn’t quite back to his usual self. He was sitting there with his arms wrapped around his legs, head resting on his knees and Dan could tell that he was crying with the way his body was shaking gently, and Dan was slightly relieved the light was already off, feeling that may allow Phil to feel slightly less embarrassed that Dan had found him like this.

“Phil,” Dan whispers softly as he crawls onto his own side of the bed. Phil visibly flinches, stiffening his posture. He slowly lifts his head, blinking blearily. Dan smiles at him sadly. This seems to just set Phil off again, and his head is right back where it was, the room full of his quiet sobs. “Hey,” Dan murmurs, scooting closer and pulling Phil’s arms away from his legs. As his position has been disrupted, Phil just looks up at Dan, his gaze unfocused without his glasses or contacts.

“I’m sorry,” Phil whispers, looking away. “I didn’t mean to… Well, I thought I was alright.” He explains miserably.

Dan shakes his head, rubbing Phil’s back with one hand while the other settles on his knee. “Phil, it’s fine to be upset. Fuck, anyone would be.”

“You’re not very upset.” Phil mumbles, staring down at the duvet as if it had personally offended him.

Dan shrugs. “It wasn’t new information to me, Phil. I researched this for weeks. I already knew the majority of what she said, including the statistics. Believe me, the first time I read that, I cried for hours. Why else did you think I wanted to do this so badly?”

Phil hiccups then, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again.

Sighing, Dan shakes his head. “Phil, there’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s perfectly natu-“

Phil cuts him off then. “Not for that.” When Dan just looks at him in confusion, Phil shifts slightly, causing Dan’s hand resting on his knee to shift inward, closer to his inner thigh. If this bothers him, he doesn’t show it. “For not being there for you, when you found out about this. You didn’t tell me and I wasn’t… here.” Phil shrugs, twisting his ring around his finger. Dan had all but forgotten about them, honestly.

“I was…” he considers for a long moment, “I was handling it. Besides,” he shrugs, forcing a smile. “If I hadn’t done all that research, I wouldn’t have been so insistent on doing this, and you wouldn’t be moving in with me.” He tries to sound as positive as possible.

Phil stares at him for a moment before nodding slowly. “I guess…” He trails off, still twisting the ring. Dan gently pushes his hands apart, intertwining his right hand with Phil’s left.

“Come on, let’s just go to sleep. Anime will still be there tomorrow after work.” Dan suggests gently, tugging Phil down with him as he settles onto his pillow. Moments later, they’re both laying there in the dark, hands still intertwined between them, staring up at the ceiling.

“Thank you, Dan.” Phil whispers into the dark. Dan squeezes his hand in response, relishing in the way the cool metal of the engagement ring feels against his own fingers. He knew that it was just a prop- a costume piece to support their lie- but he couldn’t help feeling a bit proud, and even possessive. As if Phil was his, just by wearing the simple band. Which wasn’t true by any means, even if it did make Dan’s heart swell for reasons he was totally unwilling to consider.

Dan nearly pouts when he feels Phil’s hand slide from his grip, but he’s quickly reconsidering his disappointment when Phil scoots closer and rests his head on Dan’s shoulder. Dan doesn’t even hesitate before shifting so that his arm is thrown over Phil, drawing him closer, tilting his head to lean it against the top of Phil’s.

“Is this okay?” The ebony haired man asks softly.

Dan nods to the empty darkness. “Of course it is, Phil. Whatever you want.” He whispers.

He doesn’t really expect a response to that, but Phil surprises him. “You’re my best friend.” Phil says, almost thoughtfully.

Laughing gently, Dan squeezes Phil from where his arm is wrapped around him. “I sure hope so, considering you’ve agreed to pretend to be my fiancé.” There’s a pause, and then he brings his left hand up to tap Phil’s. “Should we take these off to sleep?”

After a moment of heavy silence, he hears a small laugh. “I almost forgot.” Phil twists the ring off and leans away to drop it on his nightstand, while Dan does the same. It’s strange, how much heavier his finger suddenly feels without the metal band. Phil rolls over to face the other way, his back just barely pressing against Dan’s arm. “Night, Dan,” he whispers softly, his voice barely audible.

“Night,” Dan responds. He can’t help but feel like he’s done or said something horribly, horribly wrong.

~~~

The next few weeks pass easy. More of Phil’s things accumulate naturally, interspersed throughout the flat. Since most of his furniture in the old flat was included in the apartment when he moved in, they realize pretty quickly that Phil doesn’t have much other than his personal things and an army of half-dead houseplants. He grins as he remembers the exchange they’d had about that.

“I’m literally one hundred percent certain that this one is dead. D.N.R. Beyond saving. Very heavy.” Dan whined as they were working on moving some of his things out.

“She has character, Dan! I can’t just leave her behind!” The older man was collecting his movies and video games from the shelf in his lounge while Dan complained in the conjoining kitchen.

“Her?” He says, incredulous.

“Yes. Her name is Susan, and I can’t just leave her.”

“Phil. I will buy you a new plant- two new plants! If you leave this one here. Please.” Walking over to where Phil is currently standing in the lounge, considering this, Dan crosses his fingers.

Phil slowly nodded, a smile coming onto his face. “Okay, fine. But, you have to let me pick them out.”

Dan let out a sigh of relief. “Sure. You can do whatever you want as long as I don’t have to carry it- sorry, her into our flat.” He noticed the smug way Phil grins then, and he sticks his tongue out in response.

That was about two weeks after their first meeting with Hazel, and now, a week later, Phil is practically completely moved in. He never spends the night at the old flat anymore, and Dan doesn’t even think to mention it.

Dan’s just putting a few of his papers away when Louise walks into his office. “Hey, Lou.” He greets her with a smile. She was probably his closest friend besides Phil, and although her children kept them from spending a lot of time outside of work, they did get together occasionally, typically to get wine drunk and watch sappy movies. Phil had been along for a couple of those evenings, and he normally found it completely ridiculous, choosing to watch them get wasted instead of participating in it himself.

“Hi, love. Are you about ready for lunch?” The blonde asks, settling in one of the chairs across from him.

“Yeah, give me just a second. You know that scholarship I sent you? I think Maria-“ He’s interrupted by his phone ringing, and he smiles at her apologetically before picking it up. He’s barely taken in the surprised gasp from her before he answers the call, which is from Phil. “Hey,” he greets, giving Louise a strange look as he takes in the shocked expression on her face.

“Hey. Are you busy?” Phil asks on the other end. Dan barely hears him, considering Louise is sat in front of him pointing furiously at her ring finger of her left hand, and then to him, repeating the motion until it clicks. Oh shit. He’d been pretty diligent in taking the engagement ring off at work, wanting to avoid questions as much as possible, but it looked like he messed up.

“Oh- um… No? Not exactly, Louise just came in for lunch. What’s up?” Dan says as evenly as possible, looking apologetically at Louise, who looks positively livid, probably because he hadn’t told her, and well, she took those sort of things to heart.

“Oh, tell her I said hi.” Phil says, completely unaware that the blonde in question is glaring daggers at Dan. “Anyway, the movers came to get the bed and I hoovered in there. According to Amazon, the new bed will be here by tomorrow.”

Dan’s able to tear his attention away from his coworker when he hears that. “Oh, really? That’s great. Should we order some sheets and things like that? Like, just some basic ones?” He’s a planner down to his core, and he loves home decoration, so he’s bursting with excitement at the prospect of buying furniture and things to decorate with.

“I think we should get at least one set of sheets for now, maybe some more later. Hey, have you heard from Hazel about the interview yet?” At the reminder, Dan turns to his computer, purposefully avoiding meeting Louise’s gaze as he switches his phone to his right hand in order to use his dominant hand to navigate on the screen.

“Yeah, she sent me an email with some dates. I was thinking March twenty-eighth? You have that radio show on Friday, and we can’t do it the week before because you told Martyn we’d go to dinner with him and Cornelia.” Dan goes through their options of the dates Hazel had sent them, shaking his head at the fact that he managed to remember most of the things they had coming up.

He can hear Phil flipping pages before he responds. “Yeah, that works. Okay, I’ll let you get back to work and lunch and everything. Don’t forget to tell Louise I said hi.” Phil says.

Dan rolls his eyes but nods. “Okay. I’ll see you when I get home. Oh- do we need anything besides milk?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll text you if we do.”

“Alright. Bye.” He waits for Phil to respond in the same way before hanging up, slowly bringing his gaze up to Louise, who’s fuming.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Daniel?” She says with her teeth clenched.

“Er… Phil says hi?” He tries, scratching the back of his neck.

“I can’t believe you. I cannot believe you and Phil got engaged and didn’t tell me. I thought we were friends, Dan!” She sounds almost hysterical at this point, but Dan is just hung up on one thing.

“Wait… I didn’t tell you Phil and I were engaged.” He says slowly.

“Obviously! That’s why I’m upset!” The blonde whines, punctuating every word with a swat to his arm.

“No, Louise. I meant, I didn’t tell you it was Phil.” He shakes his head, confused.

She stops swatting for a moment, her eyebrows knitting together as if she doesn’t understand. “Who else would it be, Dan?” That brings him up short, but before he can say anything else, Louise resumes her swatting. “I’m happy for you, obviously. Just a little surprised that you didn’t tell me.” She’s looking at him with fierce pride, but simultaneously like she wants to shake him.

He’s so surprised himself, at her clear acceptance, and it’s a good thing she’s a talker because he mulls this over for the duration of lunch as she fills him in on her latest gossip. As she goes back to her own office, she makes him promise that they’ll get together soon to chat about his and Phil’s relationship. “I deserve all the juicy details, after all.”

He lets her leave with nothing more than a half-hearted nod and smile, thoughts swirling wildly as she shuts his door behind herself on the way out. What a… peculiar day.

---

The days pass, and finally the day has come for the interview with Hazel. Since it’s a legit interview, both of them have to take off work early in order to get there in time. Dan figures that since the BBC office where Phil works is on the way to Hazel’s office, it’s easiest to just stop by there to pick him up. When he pulls up outside, he fiddles with his phone for a moment before deciding to call him and let him know that he’s there.

“Hey-“ Dan begins, glancing out the window towards the building.

“Sorry, I know. I’m late, I’ll be out in just a second.” Phil says hurriedly. Dan can hear distinct voices in the background, and he detects a tightness in the way that Phil speaks, indicating that something must be wrong.

“Hold on, you’re not late. What’s wrong?” He demands, fidgeting nervously.

“Nothing, Dan, just- PJ, no!” With that, Dan hears a slight scuffle, and then the voice of a different man floods the line.

“Hello, Dan.” PJ says warmly, sounding amused. “So, engagement, huh?” He continues, and Dan can hear Phil protesting in the background.

Dan’s blood runs cold, and his eyes widen in panic. He and Phil hadn’t discussed what they were telling their coworkers, and he hadn’t even told Phil that Louise had found out on her own. This was not good. “Um…” He says slowly, stalling until Phil can get his phone back.

“Well, congratulations, mate. A few of our coworkers are admittedly a bit pissed that he didn’t tell us, but I can’t say I’m all that surprised. I told them you two were bound to get engaged eventually, and you just came along and proved me right.” PJ doesn’t sound the least bit guilty for divulging all this, and Dan’s stomach churns. If Phil was so annoyed for PJ to take his phone, then he must have expected something like this to happen, and he must be seething right now.

Figuring that he’s got nothing to lose here, since PJ, and evidently some other people, already know about it, Dan clears his throat before speaking. “Thanks, Peej. Can you give the phone back to Phil, now?” He requests as evenly as possible.

“Sure, mate.” There’s a sound as if he’s covering the speaker, but Dan hears him tell Phil, “Your fiancé is desperate to speak with you, Philip.” Dan rolls his eyes at this, but he isn’t all that surprised. He’d known PJ for quite some time, and this was just in his nature. “Well, it was lovely to speak with you, Dan. Bye for now!”

Dan doesn’t respond, instead waiting anxiously for Phil to take the phone back. “Sorry. I’ll be out in just a minute.” Phil says hurriedly before hanging up. Dan glares down at his phone but sighs resignedly. Phil would be in the car in just a minute anyway, so it didn’t really matter that he wasn’t willing to talk about it now.

After waiting for a few moments, Dan watches as the door to the building opens, Phil stepping out with his messenger bag. He watches as Phil drags a hand through his quiff, messing it up slightly. Swallowing hard, Dan tears his eyes away, instead looking at his steering wheel as he waits for Phil to climb into the car.

“Hi.” Phil greets him simply. The anger is rolling off him in waves, and Dan’s not entirely sure how to handle it, given he’s not sure who exactly Phil is mad at here.

“Hey.” He says softly, waiting until Phil’s buckled his seatbelt before driving out of the parking lot and back to the main road. “So, um… Looks like they found out.” He tries weakly.

That’s the breaking point, and Dan’s almost relieved to get a reaction that isn’t angry silence. “What the hell did you say to him, Dan?” He demands, a glare on his face.

Dan sighs. “I didn’t say anything, Phil. He did all the talking. All I told him was to give the phone back to you.”

“Like hell! As soon as he started talking to you, it clicked, and he knew exactly who I was “engaged” to!” Phil rants. Dan shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing.

“So? How did he know you- Oh. Phil, the ring.” His gaze falling to the way Phil’s hands are fisted in his lap, Dan’s eyes trail over his left hand, where, sure enough, the silver band that matches his own is resting on Phil’s ring finger.

Phil blushes, covering it with his right hand when he realizes what Dan’s gaze is on. “I forgot. But I didn’t tell them who it was! They realized it right before you called, and I was in the middle of trying to explain the situation when you called. He didn’t even know until he started talking to you.” The accusation in Phil’s voice is absolutely unmistakable, and Dan frowns, his own anger swelling up in his chest.

Glancing away from the road as he makes a turn, his gaze darts back to Phil. “Oh, so now it’s my fault that your coworkers know we’re engaged?” He spits the word out as if it’s a curse, which in his opinion, it might as well be.

Phil rolls his eyes and slinks down in his seat, glaring out his window. “Well it certainly didn’t help.”

“Excuse me?” Dan demands loudly, disbelieving. It was absolutely not his fault, he wasn’t the one who forgot to take off his…. Well, technically he did, but not this time.

“You shouldn’t have even said anything to him.” Phil says miserably. “I was handling it, Dan! I had an excuse already, and I could have handled it.”

Dan stares at the road in silence for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t say anything to PJ. The second he said hello he went straight to engagement, he didn’t let me get a fucking word in. So, no, I didn’t ruin your precious secret.” He snaps.

Phil glances at him in surprise, probably realizing that Dan was telling the truth. “Dan, that’s not-“

Dan cuts him off immediately. “Second,” He speaks louder, until Phil shuts his mouth. “Of course, he knew, Phil. Louise knew the second she saw the fucking ring, and I didn’t say a word to her, either.” At the look of surprise on Phil’s face, Dan rolls his eyes. “I figured it would just upset you if I told you she found out. It looks like I was right.” Seething, and a little bit hurt at the way Phil had seemed so disgusted for any of his coworkers to know about this, Dan pulls into the parallel parking space designated for visitors at the foster company office.

It’s silent for a moment before Phil speaks again. “I’m sorry. I overreacted.” He says softly.

“Yeah.” Dan snips. He knows he’s just being rude at this point, but the hurt he feels takes over his desire to have a better attitude.

Phil sighs deeply, looking up at the office they’re about to go in. “Look, we need to talk about this, but now is not a good time, okay? We’ve got to ace this interview, and we can’t do that if we’re at each other’s throats. Truce?” He asks, his blue, blue eyes searching Dan’s face anxiously.

Dan glares stubbornly back for several long seconds, willing himself not to express the hurt he feels before deflating slightly. He had never been good at staying mad at his best friend when they were allowed to avoid each other and found this to be even truer in situation where they were inches apart. “Okay,” he says tiredly. “But next time I’d appreciate it if you asked me what happened instead of jumping down my throat about it, yeah?” He mutters, sliding out of the car, keys in hand.

“Okay. Dan,” he calls quietly. Dan turns around with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry.”

It certainly didn’t undo anything, but Dan still feels slightly relieved that he’d said it at all. “Yeah.”

Phil sighs heavily before joining him in front of the car a second later. Dan barely thinks about it before he reaches for Phil’s hand, intertwining their fingers. He avoids the gaze he feels burning into the side of his face, and instead makes his way to the building, tugging gently on his fake fiancé’s hand.

“We’re here to meet with Hazel, we have an appointment.” Dan smiles brightly at the receptionist, flicking a curl out of his eye with the hand not enclosed around Phil’s.

The receptionist smiles, almost flirtingly, and Dan quirks an eyebrow. It’s a different girl than before, a brunette this time, and she must not realize that he’s “engaged” to someone else. “Sure. I’ll let her know you’re here, Mr….” She trails off, clearly waiting for him to supply his last name.

Phil jumps in then, to Dan’s surprise. A tight smile is on his lips, and he shifts so that he’s closer to Dan. “Howell, soon to be Howell-Lester.” He smiles too widely, lifting their hands that are still clasped together.

The receptionist’s smile falls slightly when her gaze drops to their hands, and Dan nearly laughs. “Oh! Yes, this is my fiancé, Phil. Ms. Hayes is our caseworker for the foster process.” He says with a smile, secretly enjoying the way that Phil seems to be a little annoyed with the receptionist.

“Right. I’ll let her know you’re here.” The brunette says, her lips now quirked down into a frown.

“Thanks.” Dan smiles, leading Phil over to the seating area. “Nice,” he mutters when they settle on an ugly blue sofa.

“What?” Phil responds quietly, rolling his eyes and pulling his hand out of Dan’s. The younger man frowns slightly at the loss of contact, but says nothing, instead choosing to prop his left elbow up on the back of the sofa, tilting shifting his body so that he’s turned in Phil’s direction.

“Your whole ‘I’m the jealous fiancé’ bit. Very convincing, I liked that.” Dan expecting a laugh or even an eyeroll on Phil’s behalf.

Instead, his cheeks flood with color, and he shrugs. “Whatever.” He mutters, pulling his phone out.

Dan stares at him, confused. What was his problem? Instead of asking, he only shifts closer to watch Phil play Crossy Road, allowing his arm to rest behind Phil’s shoulders. Phil glances at him but only shifts so that he’s leaning more comfortably against Dan’s side, holding his phone so that Dan can easily watch the game. This kind of closeness isn’t anything new to either of them, but there’s just a palpable tension in the way they lean against each other.

Without realizing it, he begins playing with the neckline on Phil’s shirt, which he realizes now is just a t-shirt. They’re close enough that Dan can see goosebumps on his arm. “Are you cold?”

“No,” Phil answers nearly immediately, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Dan.

Dan quirks an eyebrow before rolling his eyes, leaning away from him to pull off his own jacket. “Don’t be stupid. Here.” He holds the coat out.

The older man sighs but sets his phone in his lap and shrugs the fabric on, a frown set on his lips. “Thanks.” He says softly before leaning back, looking at Dan expectantly, waiting for him to resume his former position so Phil would have something to lean against.

Dan grins, dropping his arm onto the back of the sofa, gesturing for Phil to lean against his chest. Phil rolls his eyes but obliges. There’s something incredibly excellent about how Phil is cutting off all of the circulation to his hand, but Dan pushes that thought out of his mind.

“Dan, Phil, hi. Sorry I’m running late, my last meeting was running a little later than I thought it would.” Hazel’s voice says, causing both men to glance up at her.

Dan gently prompts Phil to stand with a hand on his back, which he doesn’t remove when he goes to stand. “No problem, Hazel.” He says, a genuine smile on his face as he goes to shake her hand.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She says worriedly, gesturing for them to follow her, her heels clicking on the tile as she guides them to her office.

“We’ve only been here for a few minutes, honestly.” Phil reassures her, smiling when she turns to glance at him.

“Great! Well, have a seat and we’ll get started.” The blonde gestures to the seats in front of her desk, the very same as last time, and only when Phil goes to sit does Dan realize that his hand hadn’t moved from the small of his back the entire trip down the hallway. He vaguely wonders if the receptionist saw, and part of him hopes that she did.

The interview begins with the same boring, general questions that Dan had expected when he researched the fostering process. Questions about what their childhood was like, how they felt conflict should be resolved, and what sort of family activities they enjoyed, or since they weren’t already parents, what sort of family activities did they hope to take part of when they became foster parents. He and Phil had sort of already gone over most of this, so they felt pretty well prepared.

That is, until they were asked a question Dan hadn’t prepared for.

“So,” Hazel says, jotting one of their previous responses down in the same notebook she had been using. She smiles at them, a reassuring thing, and Dan returns it. “The interview is going really well, I’ll tell you that now.” Hazel looks utterly thrilled with this, and Dan gets the sense that she really enjoys finding good families to foster children. He squeezes Phil’s knee, excited with her announcement.

Dan didn’t really notice when he did it, but he was utterly conscious of when he had started tracing small circles over the black fabric of Phil’s skinny jeans. When they were questioned about their own childhood, he’d felt a spike of anxiety, and he’d needed something to ground himself. The movement helped, but Dan didn’t miss the way that Phil seemed a little more reluctant than usual to rest his hand over Dan’s wrist.

“That’s always good to hear,” Phil tells her, a broad smile on his face. He doesn’t look at Dan when he says this, but Dan feels the way his grip slightly tightens on his wrist.

“Oh, definitely. Now I’ve got a few questions that pertain to your relationship, if you don’t mind.” She must notice the panic that passes between them in their shared glance, but she misinterprets it completely. “Nothing too personal! Er- we just need some insight to how the two of you function as a unit.” She smiles reassuringly.

Dan nods, struggling not to lose his casual stance and smile. He knew this part was coming, but he was suddenly unsure if they could really pass as a real couple right now, let alone an engaged couple who are ready for kids. On a normal day, maybe, but right now he still felt the uneasiness between them in the air, and he knew, he just knew that it wouldn’t be nearly as easy to convince her while they’re like this.

“Well, you can’t possibly ask anything we haven’t already been asked, in terms of personal.” Dan jokes, because if there’s anything he’s good at, it’s diffusing his own anxiety using witty humor. And it really wasn’t that much of a lie, as Louise had been pestering him with rather personal questions about their sex life since the minute she found out about their “engagement.”

Phil frowns at him when he says this, shifting enough that his hand falls away from Dan’s. He looks vaguely annoyed, and Dan nearly rolls his eyes at how offended he seems to be by the implications behind Dan’s words. It’s not like he was sharing something seriously personal. It wasn’t like that.

Luckily, Hazel must have the same taste, because she laughs as well. “Great! Then this should be a breeze.” At their affirmative nods, she dives straight in. “Describe or give me some examples of how you two support each other.” She says conversationally, sitting back to allow them room to speak.

Dan is thrown, and he glances at Phil, slightly alarmed. Phil, however, barely bats an eye before answering.

“Dan’s my best friend,” He begins, throwing a glance over at the man in question, an uncertain look on his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this amount of undeniable support from another human. Family’s different, since they have to care about you, I guess, but Dan just always has, no matter what. We…” he glances at Dan suddenly, as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to say something. Dan shrugs, unsure what he’s about to hear, but his heart is already racing from the few words Phil has shared. “We had a rough patch towards the start of our friendship, but we got through it, and I don’t think we would have if it wasn’t for the mutual support.” He’s quiet when he finishes, and he won’t bring his eyes to meet Dan’s, instead staring down at the engagement band on Dan’s hand, which is still resting on his knee.

Hazel hums, writing as she glances at Dan, waiting for his response. He clears his throat, unsure how to follow that. He knows what Phil is referring to, obviously. He nearly dropped out of university not very long into their friendship, and if it hadn’t been for Phil, Dan probably would have done something very stupid in the aftermath of all that. Swallowing hard, he knows what he should say.

“Phil’s talking about me almost dropping out of uni,” He says slowly, not missing the surprised look Phil shoots him. Dan smiles, moving his hand so that it’s resting against Phil’s, turning his gaze back to Hazel. “I was in a really bad place and wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, but Phil was there, letting me stay in his apartment and cry over all the stuff going wrong in my life. But, more recently…” He takes a deep breath, and Phil seems to realize what he’s about to say, because he suddenly shifts closer, holding onto Dan’s hand tightly.

“Dan…” He begins, his voice soft, nearly a warning.

“It’s fine.” He assures him, glancing down at their hands. “This might be taking it a lot deeper than what you were intending,” he pauses to laugh awkwardly, noticing the confused smile on Hazel’s face. “I have depression, have had since I was basically a kid. I didn’t realize it for a long time, but when I finally went to see someone, it was because of Phil. He said, ‘There are things I want you to have that you don't realize are waiting for you.' And I, ” He swallows hard, forcing the lump in his throat away. “I know that, now. I think.” The last few words come out in a barely audible rasp, delivered straight to his shoes. Sure, Phil knew how much he did for Dan, but Dan wasn’t sure he fully realized how much it still meant to him.

The room is quiet for the longest ten seconds of Dan’s life. He’s genuinely afraid to see Hazel’s reaction. Surely that was too much, she’s going to tell him he needs to go, there’s no way they’d ever be able to foster, he’s fucked it all-

“I had a few more questions, but I don’t think I need the answers.” Hazel says quietly. Dan glances up at her, his face full of panic. She notices this and shakes her head slowly. “No, Dan.” She lets out a slow breath. “Not in a bad way.”

“Oh,” He exhales shakily. Phil looks just as confused as he feels, staring at Dan with an unplaceable mood on his face.

“I feel like I have a pretty good grasp of the kind of people you both are. You both have wonderful hearts, and I’m absolutely stunned by the amount of love you have for each other. And that’s a rare and heartening thing for me to see in my line of work.” She smiles, but Dan’s having a hard time hearing the rest of what she’s saying, his mind playing over a single word. “I have a lot of confidence that you will be cleared for fostering. I think you’re both well equipped to handle the struggles that come with raising a child, and I have good faith that you two will do a wonderful job together.”

Dan opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and he snaps it shut, swallowing hard. He nods numbly, glancing at Phil.

“Thank you, Hazel.” The older man says gently, his smile real. “That really means a lot, to both of us.” He tightens his grip on Dan’s hand, probably without realizing it.

“Of course.” Hazel waves off his thanks before standing, drawing the meeting to a close. As they shake her hand in turn, she speaks again. “I’ll be in contact soon to confirm a date for the first home visit, but I’ll be giving your case special attention. I think any child would be lucky to be under your care, and I hope to get you guys cleared and ready for fostering within as little time as possible.” She smiles genuinely, and Dan feels himself tearing up yet again.

“Thank you,” He manages wetly.

“Well, it was great to see the both of you again. I’ll email you the details of the home visit within the next week or so.” With that, Hazel dismisses them, smiling broadly, and Dan follows Phil out of her office quietly. They walk through the lobby, and Dan’s surprised when he hears the receptionist speak to them.

“Have a great day!” She chirps. Dan smiles weakly at her. Phil winds an arm around Dan’s waist, guiding him out of the building.

They walk to the car in silence, but when they’re there, Phil looks at Dan in concern. “Do you want me to drive?” He asks, pointing to the keys that are dangling from Dan’s finger.

Dan shakes his head once before glancing up at Phil, his heart beating rapidly from the excitement of how well that meeting had gone. He can’t keep his eyes off of Phil, scanning him for the same emotion that’s frozen his face in permanent jubilation.

"You'll kill us both," he says. "Can't have that, now." He takes both of Phil's hands in his own, squeezing them tightly as his smile broadens. "I can’t believe what she said," he says, his voice breathless.

Phil studies him for a second, his blue eyes intense as they travel over Dan’s face, to his hands being squeezed within an inch of their death. Evidently, he finds no reason to panic, because a smile stretches across his face and he pulls Dan into a hug. “I know.” He whispers into Dan’s curls, his arms wrapping around him tightly while Dan’s find their way around the older man’s waist. They stand like that for only a moment before Phil is pulling away, his smile still on his face. “Chinese takeaway to celebrate?” He suggests easily, looking hopeful.

Dan can’t help but laugh and shake his head at his childish ways, nodding to the car. “We’ll see.” Is all he says in response.

---

After indulging in some Chinese takeaway and a few episodes of Buffy, Dan’s just on the edge of sleep when he remembers they probably needed to discuss the situation with Phil’s work.

“Hey, Phil?” He says softly from his spot on the opposite end of the sofa. His legs were spread out over Phil’s lap as usual, and the older man was absently tracing small circles along Dan’s calf, where his pajamas had been pushed up with his left hand, while his right was trailing along on the trackpad of his MacBook perched on the arm of the sofa.

“Yeah?” Phil responds, glancing down at him before his eyes trail back to the screen. Dan could barely make out what looked like a spreadsheet on his laptop, too tired to really strain to see for sure what it was he was working on. Phil was a producer at BBC Radio 1, which Dan was always equally proud and jealous of. With his degree in video post-production, Dan always knew he was going to do something cool, and this was definitely cool.

“Do you want to talk about earlier?” Dan asks, getting straight to the point. He was tired, he didn’t want to sit up talking about it for very long if he could help it, so he felt it was best to just go ahead and talk about it now.

Phil looks over at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “About what?” He asks, pushing his glasses up. It seems to dawn on him before Dan can even get another word in, and he looks surprised. “About what I told Hazel? Dan, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think-”

Dan shakes his head, cutting him off. “No, I meant the thing with PJ from earlier.” He shifts so that he’s lying on his back rather than his side, staring up at the ceiling. “I thought you might want to talk about that.”

“Oh,” is all Phil responds with. Dan waits for a moment, and when he doesn’t say anything else, he props himself up on his elbows, quirking a brow at Phil, who has gone back to looking at his laptop. Sensing Dan’s change in position, he looks back over at him. “What?”

Rolling his eyes, Dan gestures to the laptop. “Wanna close that for a minute so we can have a discussion?” he snaps.

Phil frowns, glancing at the screen once more. “Dan, I need to finish this by tomorrow. We can talk while I do this.”

“No, we can’t.” Dan groans, sitting up further and leaning towards the laptop, with every intention of closing it. “You’re not even listening to me.”

“Dan!” Phil snaps, shoving his hand away and shooting a glare at him. “Leave it, okay? I need to finish this.” He studies Dan for a second before shaking his head, not so subtly shifting the laptop further out of Dan’s reach.

Dan huffs before swinging his legs off Phil’s lap and standing. “Whatever.”

“Wh- Dan. Come on,” Phil sighs, looking almost offended that Dan had moved.

“I’m trying to talk to you about something you were so worked up about earlier, and you’re not fucking listening, at all. Sorry if I don’t wanna just sit here and be ignored,” he says in annoyance, picking up his empty wine glass from the coffee table, as well as his phone. “I’m going to bed.”

“Dan,” Phil groans, closing the laptop finally. “Fine. Come here. We’ll talk.” He sounds resigned, and for some reason his tone just rubs Dan the wrong way and he doesn’t even feel inclined to talk anymore. He just wants to go to their room and pout.

“Nope. Don’t let me inconvenience you. Your work is very important, don’t let me get in the way.” He says in a mocking tone as he makes his way downstairs, part of him hoping Phil doesn’t follow but the other part practically begging him to.

That part wins out, because as Dan is walking into their room, he hears the sound of Phil turning the lights off and coming downstairs. Dan makes no indication of noticing this, going to plug his phone into the charger on his nightstand, double checking that his alarm is set before climbing into his side of the bed. Phil steps into the room, laptop in one hand and charger in the other.

“Okay, I’m here, no distractions. Let’s have this discussion.” Phil announces, setting his laptop on his own bedside table, crossing his arms as he looks down at Dan.

Shrugging, Dan rolls over to face downward, groaning loudly. He knew it was childish, but he was petty, and a little bit hurt. Granted, Phil probably did have serious work to do, but that didn’t stop Dan from being upset.

“Dan,” Phil says firmly, his voice holding a tone of warning. “You’re acting like a child.”

“And you were acting like a dick.” He responds, still face down. He feels the bed dip as Phil climbs in, and since Dan is expecting the shifting of Phil settling on his own side, he nearly screams when he feels a hand on his neck. “No!” He gasps, trying to smack the hand away, to no use. “That’s- illegal!”

Phil is relentless as he tries, and for the most part succeeds, in tickling Dan. “Sorry, can’t hear you, Dan.” He taunts pleasantly as he continues pressing his fingers to Dan’s neck, ducking to tickle his side when Dan presses his head to his shoulder.

He’s giggling too much to really formulate a good argument, but he finally shifts so that Phil can no longer attack that side. Instead, he’s on his back, staring up into Phil’s mischievous, blue eyes. Which, might’ve been a mistake, given Phil takes the opportunity to dive for his stomach, which he begins tickling mercilessly, rucking up Dan’s t-shirt in the process.

“Stop! Stop! I surrender!” Dan shouts breathlessly, feeling tears falling from his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath.

Phil must realize he’s had enough, because he sits back on his heels, smiling with his tongue poking out, clearly proud of himself. Dan pouts, but he’s just barely containing a smile. “There we go. I like you better when you’re not pouting.” Phil says jokingly.

Dan rolls his eyes, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “Yeah, well,” he shrugs, shoving his curls up off his forehead. “I like you better when you’re not ignoring me.” He reminds him casually, quirking an eyebrow at Phil.

Sighing, Phil nods, shifting so that he’s in the same position as Dan, tugging the sheet and duvet over their legs. “Fair enough. I’m sorry I was ignoring you. I know you wanted to talk about what happened.” Dan stays quiet, giving Phil space to speak. “Honestly, though? I’m over it. I know I was upset after it happened, but now that I’ve had time to cool down, I don’t even know why I was upset. They would have found out eventually, and it’s not like you’re the worst person for people to think I’m engaged to.” He says casually, smirking at Dan as he says this.

Snorting, Dan shoves his shoulder against Phil’s. “Thanks, mate. Really feel appreciated now,” he teases.

Phil throws himself across Dan’s lap then, bringing a hand up to his forehead dramatically. “Oh, Daniel, whatever would I do without you!” He opens one eye, grinning up at his very unamused best friend. “How’s that?” He asks with a smirk.

“Get off me,” Dan laughs, shoving at Phil’s shoulder. They sit in silence together for a moment before he finally speaks again. “I’m sorry I was acting like a brat. You know how I get when I don’t have your attention.” He mutters, only realizing how pathetic that sounds after he’s already said it. He shifts to lay down then, in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

Phil doesn’t move from his position, but he drops his hand to Dan’s curls, running a hand through his hair gently. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have been paying attention to you.” He sounds completely genuine, and Dan sighs contently, partly from their resolved argument and partly from the good feeling of having someone pet his hair. He loved having his hair played with, and it felt great to have Phil’s long fingers running through the curls.

“So, you’re not upset about them finding out?” He asks then, folding his hands together over his stomach.

“No, not really. I wish I could have told them instead of them finding out the way they did, but it’s fine.” Phil responds. “But what about Louise? How did she find out?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“Ugh,” Dan groans, bringing an arm up to throw across his face, hiding his eyes. “Don’t even get me started on Louise. I swear to god if I have to hear her ask who bottoms one more time, I’m going to shoot myself.”

Phil laughs loudly at this, pulling his hand away from Dan’s hair, drawing a whine of protest from his lips. Rolling his eyes, Phil leans over to grab his laptop as Dan shoots him a glare, removing his arm from his face to do so. “You’re so dramatic. And whiny, when you don’t get your way.” He informs him, opening his laptop to resume his work, his left hand again falling to Dan’s hair.

Dan hums contently, closing his eyes. “Feels nice,” he murmurs after a few minutes, feeling just on the verge of sleep. A low laugh comes from beside him, but otherwise Phil doesn’t respond. Before he can fully let himself sleep, though, Dan feels that he needs to ask an important question. “Phil,” he calls softly, uncertain how clear his voice is, given he’s basically half-asleep.

“Bear?” Phil replies just as quietly, making Dan wonder if he’d heard him right. It had been a while since he’d heard Phil call him that.

After a minute of trying to remember what it was he had wanted to say, Dan licks his lips. “What’re you going to tell your parents?”

Phil’s hand pauses, making Dan open his eyes, glancing over at the older man. “I’m not sure yet.” He whispers. He’s focusing on his screen, but Dan doubts he’s seeing anything.

Without much thought, Dan reaches up and grabs Phil’s hand that had fallen from his hair, bringing it to his mouth to kiss softly. “You’ll figure it out.” He says softly. Subtly, he places Phil’s hand gingerly back in the curls atop his head, closing his eyes again. “I told my mum the truth, since I knew she wouldn’t spread it around the family, but if you want to tell your parents the story version, you can.” Dan whispers, almost incoherently.

“Yeah?” Phil asks softly, his hand resuming their gentle moments. “You wouldn’t mind them thinking we’re engaged?”

“Mm. No. I love your family, and I’m pretty sure they like me too. They can think whatever you want them to.” He says slowly, trying hard to fight the sleep that’s threatening to drag him under.

“Hm. Okay. I’ll call mum tomorrow and talk to her.” Phil finally says.

“M’kay. Tell Kath I said hello.” He murmurs.

Phil laughs softly, and Dan almost thinks he hears the shutter of a phone camera, but he could be imagining it. “Okay. Go to sleep now, bear. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Mhm. Night Philly.”

Just as he drifts off, he hears Phil respond with laughter in his voice. “Night, Danny.”

[lyesera-thoughts]

Therapy: Sleep paralysis vs Shadow People

For a long time as a child, I had a very FIRM belief in the afterlife. I was raised in a predominately Catholic home. My father is a Protestant, however my mother’s family was the closest to us when I grew up and they are all Catholic. Neither my father nor my mother would agree to give up the “religious right” to their children.

My brother and I have never been baptized and are even bastards to my mother’s church as my parents were married outside of the Catholic church (in fact in no church) due to my father’s refusal to join the Catholic church. For other reasons, this has caused strife in my family as I have never been religious and my parents seemed to think they raised me differently. That’s a post unto itself.

However, while I have never grown to have a belief in a singular sect of religion or in a God(dess) of any sort, I did, 100% believe, there was a life after this. Of some kind. And that ghosts and spirits were real.

I also used to believe that I had proof. Experiences of supernatural origins that couldn’t be explained in any other way...

That was until I got older. We’ll get into that.

I have always been afraid of the dark. Until I was 15 or 16 years of age I would not sleep in the dark. My parents would compromise with leaving a hall light on and leaving doors open. As it was, when we finally stopped that, I started sleeping with a stereo on. This stereo had a bright blue led that lit my room up entirely. To this day I despise being in a room in the complete dark and have “episodes” where I actually feel like I’m being hunted in the dark and cannot sleep unless the light in the room is on.

When I was very young, elementary age years, I used to wake up in the middle of the night, just about every night. Sometime after midnight, before early morning hours that my parents would wake up for work. Probably between 2 to 4 AM. And I would stay up all night, in the living room, because it was where I felt safe. I would turn on every single light surrounding me and watch TV because I couldn’t stand the silence. Or more specifically, the noises in the silence.

When I entered my teens, I started sleeping more through the night, but still had a common occurrence of waking up in the middle of the night. I would just stay in my room until sunrise. One night, when I was 14 years old I woke to a noise.

My bedroom at this time was laid out as such:

The scale isn’t perfect, but I had a full size bed (hand me down from my parents when they replaced theirs), that I shoved in a corner because I couldn’t feel safe enough to sleep if my bed wasn’t in a corner. I slept up against a wall. When I sat up and leaned over the other side of the bed, I could see clearly into the hallway. The light to the hallway was immediately outside my door, as my room was nearest the steps to the downstairs.

I heard this noise, as I said. It sounded like it was something right outside of my room. I sat up and leaned over. And there was a figure under the light in the hallway. A bright, white light, and this figure was humanoid and black.

The stereotype non-human black. A shadow black. It wasn’t much taller than me or my brother, so older child/teen sized. It’s shape made me think male but what terrifies me still to this day were glowing red eyes.

I shoved my ass into the very corner so my back was against the wall, upright and facing my open door. I pulled my legs up and hugged them as I waited to see if this picture of nightmares would walk into my room.

I stayed there for hours, until the sun came up. Only then did I dare look again. There was nothing. I tried to tell my parents about it. They wrote it off. “You were dreaming”. “It might’ve been your brother using the bathroom” (when they heard how tall). Yes my room was across from the bathroom, but I knew it wasn’t him. His eyes didn’t glow red.

My next memory was when we moved. My parents got their own house finally. A one floor, three bedroom, not that far from where we used to live; where I had the first “encounter”. I’m about 16 or 17 now. My new room looks like this:

Again not to scale. It’s smaller than my old room, I had to trade that full sized bed for a twin. I also had a closet, which had a shelf next to it. It was a wire shelf with a bar for hangers. I had some every day use items hanging from it. Coats and such.

It’s early morning, but not night. It’s like, people are awake and I can hear them. It’s what wakes me up, them moving around and talking. There’s sun coming through my window’s curtains. I don’t wake up suddenly, it feels like my normal return from sleep. Slow and easy. Comfortable. Until...

I can’t move.

Not a single finger or toe. I can’t talk. I can breath and I can look around with my eyes and there is a little shadow girl by my closet door.

Again, the figure is completely cast in black. Shadow black. But there’s a shape that makes me think girl wearing a dress, with a poofy skirt. She’s just standing there, across from me, just in front of the things I have hanging from that shelf. I can’t move and I am terrified.

I have this strangely clear thought of “move my toes”. Like that Kill Bill movie, but before that came out. I manage to move a toe, then my fingers, and just as I scream for my mother, who I can hear moving around, the shadow is gone.

My mother is there in seconds, fully dressed. My brother and I are the last to wake, mom and dad already had a friend over. I tell her what happened, she looks suspiciously at my closet then tells me to get dressed and come get something to eat.

This time, she takes me a bit seriously. She believes in an afterlife. She had been getting strange feelings from the house. She confessed to me well after I moved out of the house (my parents still live there) that while she was having medical problems that were affecting her sleeping, she stayed in my old room so not to disturb my father. She woke up with an intense feeling of being watched. She never slept in my old room again. That feeling had scared her so much.

I felt a little validated.

But then...I left for college. I met my fiance who does NOT believe in an afterlife. He’s very science oriented and without my parents around I’m not being exposed to religion anymore, nor do I have anyone who listens and believes when I talk about the afterlife.

Years go by. I have night terrors/nightmares. I am working through this in therapy, as it has apparently caused me to have full conversations with my fiance while I’m dead asleep. I mention my old “encounters” and how I used to think they were something supernatural and how I do kind of mourn that lost piece of my childhood. I had a belief in something and now I don’t. 

She tells me about sleep paralysis. How it’s common to see shadow people during that. I do some research and apart from the first time, it makes perfect sense to me, scientifically.

And some months after this I have my third experience. We’re in our new room, significantly larger. 

I’m alone, it’s not very late at night and my fiance is still downstairs. Sleeping nearest the dresser on a king-sized bed that, at the time, was on the floor as we hadn’t invested in our frame yet. At this point, I have finally moved past the sleeping against a wall necessity. I wake up to a feeling of being watched and open my eyes. I was expecting to see my fiance.

I’m sleepy, but I realize I can’t move. I have a very short burst of fear as I see a tall figure at the end of the bed, looming over me. A shadow wearing a hat. Like the Indiana Jones type hat, maybe a fedora? The hat is also shadow but I can make it out as well I could make out the dress on the girl. Again, despite being all black, the shape makes me think this is a man. 

And I’m just...done. I’m still recovering from constant pain and anxiety. My sleep is precious and needed. The fear goes away and I tell myself “this isn’t real” and I blink. I can move and he’s gone.

This is, as of right now, all the sleep paralysis moments I can remember. I don’t recall if I had them before, but I have a vague-ish feeling/memory of possibly seeing a shadowy someone sitting on a chair that was in my childhood bedroom. Which is why I may have kept escaping to the living room way back then.

I expect to have it happen again.

There are still nights that I have to talk myself out of the feeling of being watched in my own room when the lights are out. There are still nights I wake up anxious and feeling not safe.

I don’t know what it is. There’s a part of me that still wants to believe in an afterlife. That these are other entities and that my life is more than the time I have on Earth. 

But at the same time, there’s serious doubt that this is anymore than my brain fucking with me. As I already know that I have anxiety and depression, which are indicators that my brain chemistry and functionality is already different.

So take from this what you will. It just was a curious exploration into old memories and recent memories.

[sassyduckqueen]

My Dearest Friend (Lukanette)- Chapter One: Heartbreak

Ok before you guys read this, I do actually like Adrien but I had this idea and had to go with it. Also Marionette and Adrien are Sixteen and Luka is Seventeen. Anyway enjoy.

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Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces as she stared at the scene in front of her. It was her last end of year dance and she was suppose to be going her boyfriend, Adrien Agesate. She couldn’t believe how lucky she had been when he had asked her out. She had been crushing on him for such a long time and then he asked her out at the beginning of the school year so of course, she had said yes. It had been so perfect but then the end of year dance was announced and the invite to go with him never came. She asked him if he planned to go but he explained that his father wouldn’t let him. She was disappointed but she believed him as she knew how strict his father was. Despite the fact that he was nearly sixteen, his father still remained over protective of him. She was glad her parents weren’t like that. Anyway, she had told her friends that she didn’t have a date so they told her to come with them. She had just came into the dance-hall to meet them when she had seen the worst thing in her life. Tears slid down her face as she stared at the scene that was causing her heart to break. Adrien had made it to the dance but he wasn’t here for her. Instead, he was too busy snogging the face of Lila, Marinette’s bully. Not only had he lied to her but he had done, in order to be with another girl. He had assumed that if she didn’t go with him, she wouldn’t attend. Tears flowed freely down her face as she turned on her heel and ran out. She heard her friends calling her but she ignored them as she ran out into the night, crying to herself. She ran off the school ground and into the park before she made her way to the quiet canel before she finally allowed herself to fully cry as she questioned what she had done wrong. She had been the best girlfriend she could but clearly, it wasn’t good enough. As if the day wasn’t bad enough, the rumbles of thunder was heard and within seconds, torrential rain poured down from the sky, soaking her in seconds but she didn’t care. She was too hurt to care and the rain was ok. Maybe it would wash away all of her pain and maybe even drown her. Anything was better then the pain and betrayal she felt right now so she welcomed the rain. It also helped that it covered up her tears but that didn’t last long. She blinked as someone stood in front of her, placing an umbrella over her head. She looked up and saw two icy crystals staring back at her. She blinked and saw the crystals belonged to a handsome young man, who seemed oddly familiar. His hair matched his eyes as did his hoodie but his jeans were black and his shirt was a jagged stone one. The umbrella he held was also blue and black. She gave him a questioning look as she felt like she knew him but she couldn’t place where she had met him.

“Hello, Ma-Ma-Marinette,” He teased softly, catching her by surprise as she recongized him.

“L-Luka?” She asked, softly. For a moment, she hadn’t recognized him due to the sorrow in her heart but she was glad it was him who had found her and not a complete strange. They had only met a few times when she had gone around her friend Juleka’s home as as he was her older brother. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was playing my guitar in my cabin but then the thunderstorm started and I couldn’t resist going out and watching. However, I noticed a beautiful girl sat alone in the rain so I grabbed my umbrella and went over to her to see if she’s ok,” He stated, smiling lazily. Marinette looked around to see if the beautiful girl he was talking about was nearby but there was no else, apart from her in the park. Luka chuckled to himself as one of the things he liked about her was her modesty. “Anyway, would you like to come in from the rain? You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here,”

Marinette looked up at him before nodding softly. He offered her his hand and pulled her up when she took it before leading her to the boathouse he and his family lived on. He helped her onto the deck before folding up the umbrella and leading her downstairs.

“I’ll be back in a second,” He smiled kindly before heading into the back. Marinette sighed to her as she stood in the boat, dripping wet. She frowned as she realized she was bringing water into the living room. She made a mental note to apolygize. “Hey,”

She looked over at Luka, who had a bunch of material in his arms. He put some of it down on the sofa before walking over to her and wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

“I got you some dry clothes,” He smiles softly before looking away. “It’s just one of my spare shirts and a pair of slacks but Jules would kill me if I went into her wardrobe,”

He rubbed his neck nervously as he looked away. Marinette couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtful action.

“T-thank you,” She muttered.

“The bathroom’s over there. I can also put your dress in the dryer so it’s dry and warm if you want,” He mumbles.

“If that’s ok. I don’t want to be too much of a bother,” She mumbles, looking down.

“You’re not a bother, Marinette. I know I don’t know you well as Jules does but I like you. From what I’ve seen, you’re a geniune person,” He smiled, making her blush lightly. “Anyway, go and get dry and warm,”

“Thanks, Luka,” She smiled before wondering into the bathroom. She locked the door and frown as she caught her reflection. She looked a mess. Her make up was running, her hair was a wet, tangled mess and her dress was completely soaked. She sighed and undid it before taking it off and drying herself and her hair before she got dressed into the clothes Luka had given her. They were a little too big but much better then been in a soaked dress. She unlocked the door before gathering the dress and towel and walked out. Luka was pouring himself a glass of coke as she walked over. “Can I still use the dryer for my dress?”

“Sure,” He smiled. “I can put it on a washing if you want. You know so it’s completely clean from the rain,”

And the pain. She thought, nodding.

“Thank you,” She mumbled. He took the gathered items from her arms and placed them into the washing machine before adding the detegent. However, he turned to look at her.

“Does it need a special setting?” He asked, reminding her it was homemade.

“Um yeah. Delicate setting,” She mumbled. He nod and put the wash on before grabbing a spare glass and pouring her a drink. She smiled softly and took it. “Thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” He replied, moving over to the sofa and sitting down. She slowly sat near him.

“Isn’t your family in?” She asked, noticing how quiet it was.

“Nah. Mum’s on a date and Jules is at the dance with Rose,” He explained, making her remember she had seen Juleka at the dance. “So… do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Why you were crying in the rain?”

“I… how did you know I was crying?”

“You were sat in the rain with your head dipped low and you were shaking,” He replied. “Also your song is really sad right now. Like you’ve just had your heart broken,”

The words hurt her more then they meant to and she feel tears fall down her face again. Before she could say anything, Luka had his arms around her, rubbing her back.

“I’m sorry,” He gasped. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,”

“I-it w-wasn’t you,” She sniffed. “M-me and Adrien broke up. I think he was cheating on me,”

“Oh… Marinette… I’m so sorry,” He whispered, frowning as she looked at him. He swiped a thumb over her cheek to wipe away her falling tears. “Don’t waste these on him. He doesn’t deserve your tears or your smile,”

A light blush covered her face as Luka looked at her but he withdrew his hand.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll order a pizza and we can watch some funny animal videos on youtube,” He smiled softly. Marinette couldn’t help but smile at his suggestion to cheer her up. “Sound like a good idea?”

“Yes,” She nodded as he got up and grabbed a take-away menu. He sat down next to her and handed it to her. “Don’t you want to choose?”

“I’m a human trashbin. I’ll eat almost anything,” He grinned before frowning. “Just no jalapeños ok?”

“Ok,” She grinned before picking out a pizza. Luka put in the order then put youtube on the TV before giving Marinette the controls. Soon, the pizza arrived and they both sat there, watching stupid dogs and crazy cats while eating pizza. Soon after, Marinette found herself tired so she curled up, closing her eyes, unintentionally falling asleep. Luka looked down at her and smiled at her before carefully picking her up and carrying her to his bed. He gently placed her in it, making sure her head was on the pillow before placing a blanket around her as she breathed in lightly.

“Good night, Ma-Ma-Marinette,” He whispered before walking out and putting her dress in the dryer so it was nice and dry for her when she woke up.

~The Next Morning~

Marinette rolled over, blinking as sunlight hit her eyes. She covered her face before sitting up. For a second, she didn’t recognized the room she was in but then she saw the guitar in the corner and the music books around. Relief flooded her through her as she realized it was Luka’s room. She pushed the blanket off as she realized he must of have carried her to the bed when she had fallen asleep. She got up and walked into the living room. Luka was laid on the sofa with his eyes closed and a blanket over him as he slept. She felt guilt fill her heart as she realized he had given up his bed so she could sleep comfortably.

“Ah, you’re awake,” The familiar voice of Anarka made her jump before she looked over at the kitchenette.

“H-hi, Captain,” She gasped. “I hope you don’t mind that I crashed her. It wasn’t my intentio-”

“Don’t worry about it,” She smiled kindly. “Luka messaged me last night and explained that you were upset and asked if it was ok for you to stay over,”

Marinette looked over at him and smiled a little before nodding.

“In that case, thank you for letting me stay,” She smiled before realizing she hadn’t told her own parents. “Oh crap. I’m sorry, Captain. I just need to phone my parents quickly. Um..”

Panic filled her face as she realized she didn’t have her phone. She had left it at home because of the dance. After all, she was suppose to be getting a lift home off Alya.

“You can use our phone,” Anarka smiled, handing it to her. She thanked her and dialled the number, praying her mum would answer.

“Boulangerie Patisserie. Sabine talking. How can I help you?” Her mother answered but in the background, she could hear her dad franically asking if it was Marinette.

“Mum… it’s me,” She whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t ca-”

“Oh thank god, Marinette. We were so worried. You are ok, aren’t you?”

“Y-yeah… I’m ok...” She muttered, looking sad.

“What happened? Why didn’t you come home last night?” Sabine asked, concern in her voice. Marinette felt tears filled her eyes again.

“I… me and Adrien are over, Mum...” She sniffed.

“Oh, honey,” Her mother’s voice brought her comfort.

“I s-saw him with Lila at the dance last night… he was kissing her and… I just couldn’t stay there so I ran out and went to my ususal spot. I wasn’t going to stay there all night but I just couldn’t face anyone,”

“You didn’t stay out in that rainstorm all night, did you?”

“N-no… actually… I’m at Juleka’s,” She replied, smiling a little at her mum’s sigh of relief.

“Did Juleka leave the party?”

“Actually… it was her brother, Luka, who found me,” Marinette mumbled, blushing a little. “Anyway, I’m sorry I worried you. I’ll be home soon. Tell Dad I love him and that I’m sorry,”

“That’s ok, sweetie,” Her mum replied. “We’ll talk properly when you get home ok?”

“Ok,” She mumbled. “Thanks, Mum. I love you,”

“Love you too,” She replied before Marinette hung up and handed the phone to Anarka, who gave her a kind smile.

“Um… I should get home...”

“Would you like some breakfast before you go?” Anarka asked as they hear a groan from the sofa. Marinette looked over and saw Luka sit up before he stretched. He rubbed his eyes before looking over in their direction and smiling.

“Morning mum. Morning Mari,” He smiled, making her blush at the nickname. “Did you sleep ok?”

“Y-yeah… um thanks for letting me have the bed but you could have just let me sleep on the sofa,” She blushed, shyly pushing her hair behind her ear.

“It’s ok,” He smiles. “I usually fall asleep on the sofa anyway,”

Marinette felt a little better, knowing he slept on there often. He got up and walked over to the fridge before pouring himself a glass of orange juice before he looked at Marinette.

“Would you like one?” He asked. She nodded and he got her glass. “Are you staying for breakfast? I can make pancakes if you want,”

“I’ll have to pass,” She muttered, looking away. “I worried my parents too much so I should get back there. Um is my dress dry? I’ll get change into it if it is,”

“If it’s easier, you can just keep those,” Luka smiled, nodding to the shirt and slacks she’s in. “I don’t wear them that often,”

“You don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I minded,” He smiled, rolling his eyes playfully. “But yes, your dress is dry. I hope you don’t mind but I only had a plastic bag to put it in so I had to fold it. We don’t have the equitment for a fashion designer here, otherwise I would have put it in a suit bag,”

“Oh that’s ok. I can iron it,” She smiled a little, finishing her juice before she got up. She grabbed her shoes and slipped them on. Fortunately, she hadn’t wore heels and had gone for a nice pair of ballet pumps.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Luka asked, catching her offguard but she shook her head.

“No. I’ve troubled you too much already,”

“It wouldn’t be trouble,” He smiled softly, making her blush again.

“Really, it’s ok,”

“Ok but let me know when you get home ok? I’ll be worried otherwise,” He stated, getting up and handing her a plastic bag with her dress in it.

“Thanks,” She muttered before looking up at him. “And I will,”

She gently pressed her lips to his cheek.

“Thank you for helping me and cheering me up,”

“Any time, Mari,” He smiled.

(***)

It didn’t take her long to get home and once she did, she fully informed her parents of what had happened. Despite her staying out last night without their permission, they didn’t punish her as she hadn’t done it on purpose and she was already in enough pain. Her mother offered her comforting words and her dad made her her favorite sweet before she went to her room and flopped on her bed. She picked up her phone and unlocked it. She wasn’t surprise to see lots of messages from her friends, asking her where she was and if she was ok. She sighed and decided to ignore them, opting to scroll through her phone. She frowned when she realized she didn’t have Luka’s number. Of course, she didn’t. He wasn’t her friend. She sighed and opened a new message.

M: Hey, Julie. I’m ok but I think me and Adrien are over. Also, this might be be a bit odd but do you have Luka’s number please?

J: Hey, Marinette. I’m glad you’re ok and I’m sorry to hear that. I can’t believe he was with Lila. Sure, I have his number but why do you want it? If you don’t mind me asking.

M: Um… he kind of helped me last night after I walked out of the dance. I just wanted to message him to say thank you

J: Aww ok. Here’s his number. Rose says hi btw

M: Thanks. Tell her I say hi

J: Will do. Love you

M: Love you too

She smiled as she saved his number before taking a deep breathe.

M: Hey, it’s Marinette. I got your number off Juleka. Hope you don’t mind. Anyway, I’m home now

L: I don’t mind at all. I’m glad you’re home. Are you feeling a bit better?

M: Not really. I appreciate you trying to cheer me up tho

L: No worries. Well, if you need to talk or eat pizza again, give me a text or a call. I’m here for you ok?

M: Thanks, Luka. That means a lot. Anyway, I’m gonna get going. I’m really tired.

L: Okies :) Sleep well, Mari and don’t be a stranger

M: I won’t. Thanks again x

Marinette smiled to herself before lying down and closing her eyes. Sleep claimed her in seconds

[pandemicthestory]

5: distanced

The next step is to find an in, and then an out. 

The morning news briefing on TV:

Kelly Sanchez, lead anchorwoman, stares gravely into the camera. It will be another day of news that no one wants to hear. 

“Good morning, Chicago. We’re here with your daily update of the coronavirus. Schools across the country have been canceled due to a significant shortage of public funding. These are funds that are currently being allocated to bail out the tanking airline industry. The President says that allowing the top corporations to suffer will result in a greater hole for the economy. We hope he’s right.

Meanwhile, bars, restaurants and shopping centers that have been re-opened early to boost the economy have not seen the dramatic rise in business that was expected. Perhaps people are too afraid to go out to dinner amongst the public, or perhaps they simply can’t afford it due to a loss of work. One thing we do know is that the most detrimental effect of these early openings is causing a further spread. As people in certain states that have not seriously social-distanced begin to cross state lines…”

Emma’s mom and dad are sitting on the couch, waiting for Kelly to tell them that things are going to get at least slightly better. But she doesn’t. It’s getting impossible to convince themselves that this will all be over soon--that everything will return to normal. It’s becoming likely that the new “normal,” if it ever comes, will be something that no one has ever seen. 

*buzzzz*

Emma’s alarm wakes her up at 8:30 AM. She facepalms herself upon remembering that school doesn’t exist anymore and therefore alarms are canceled. Dammit. 

But then, she remembers that Universe is currently downloading to her external hard drive. The excitement of this sends a shock through her system and wakes up every cell in her body. It’s that “Christmas morning” excitement, which is marginally more enjoyable than that “about to run away with a possibly bad dude” excitement. That kind is good too, just, different. She runs over to her computer. 

16 HOURS REMAINING

Shit. The size of this application is no joke. Seemingly she’ll have to wait until tonight to begin her exploration. To find Mason. 

Emma remembers the talk they had last night, and reflects on his support of her relationships with her friends. She realizes that she didn’t know many people with that quality, guys especially...it seems like they always demand her full attention and become frustrated if asked to share. Especially one guy. Well anyway, Mason. Intriguing.

Emma heads downstairs to make herself a bowl of cereal. Oh wait, there’s no milk. And no cereal either? These days, groceries are scarce and pickings are slim. Ah well, might have to be plain oatmeal. Serious orphanage vibes--which is somewhat fitting since her parents wish they could leave her at one. 

Ugh. Every time you eat oatmeal, you forget how horrible oatmeal is. Isabel sits across the table from her, scrolling through her phone with intent and drinking black coffee. Emma smirks. 

“Aren’t you kinda young to be drinking coffee? Plus what do you have to energize for, your job at the office?”

Isabel pays no attention to her. 

“Hello? Okay what is up with you.”

Isabel looks up from her phone, a faraway look in her eyes. 

“Do you have a headset?” she asks. 

“Um, what do you mean? Like headphones? What are you talking about?”

Isabel looks down again. 

“No, like a viewing headset. Like an Oculus or a Vive. Aren’t you like, a tech nerd? You don’t do anything with VR?”

Odd request. Emma isn’t much of a gamer anymore, she used to play Dota and Warcraft, but that was before she decided to cut back to become more social. Spend time with her friends. Date an asshole. Whatever. But in all her experience with gaming, she had never gotten into VR. She never saw the point...either play games or experience the real world. What was the point in trying to achieve both at the same time?

“No I don’t. And you know those are expensive as hell, right?” 

Isabel looks nervous. 

“I know. Which is why...um, I was wondering, can I borrow some money?” 

Emma bursts out laughing. 

“No Iz, you can’t borrow 800 dollars to buy a VR headset. Hey are you aware that we’re going through a global pandemic and the world may or may not be ending? I think food and toilet paper are better investments than virtual tennis, or whatever.” 

Isabel just shakes her head. What is with this girl? She’s normally the queen of smartassery--loves to spar with Emma and argue about literally everything. She’s usually so ready for a fight, but now she feels surrendered. It’s weird how you can be trapped in such close quarters with a person and still feel like they’re on a different planet. 

Emma and Isabel are two years apart. Up until Emma was 6 and Isabel was 4, they were best friends. They shared everything. Isabel didn’t want to play with a toy unless Emma played with it with her. She wouldn’t wear clothing unless it was Emma’s hand-me-down. They shared a bedroom, the walls covered with monarch butterflies. Their mom went for a theme, tacky lamp shades and all, lord knows she tried her best. Often, they would stay awake late into the night, vividly describing the dream that the other sister would have. They thought if they focused hard enough, they could carry those dreams with them into sleep. 

But as they got older, things changed. The tacky butterflies were no longer endearing. Emma moved into a room that was being used as her dad’s office. She got a Nintendo DS for Christmas. And she started locking her door. 

Isabel was left to wonder where her role model went. But after Emma made it clear that her hobbies were no longer to be shared, Isabel hardened herself to the rejection. She promised herself to become her own person in any way that she could, to never be dependent on Emma to define her personality. 

In fifth grade, Isabel met Anush. They met because they were both teacher helpers in art class, and it was their responsibility to help set up the room before class and clean it up afterwards. They were both very outgoing, emotional, and honest. Isabel always told Anush exactly what she was thinking, and vice versa. The two girls were popular among their classmates, but the good kind of popular. They were kind, and they included the other girls who wanted to be like them.

So really, it makes no sense that Isabel is being the way that she is. She’s confident, vocal, and annoyingly optimistic. On a normal day. So what’s wrong?

“Emma, someone just dropped a package off for you.” 

Their mom called from the other room. Isabel leaves the table, stressed and defeated. Emma continues to chip away at the bowl of grey sludge in front of her. It’s crazy that there are still people out there delivering the mail--how long until that stops too? 

*buzz* 

Good morning, group chat. 

OLIVIA: GG morning check-in: I want to talk about what the hell Serena sees in Dan 

MADISON: or what dan sees in serena?? Come on he’s like an intellectual and she’s a superficial barbie princess 

ZOE: Mad you know that is MISOGYNISTIC and that you’re letting the fact that she wears expensive dresses and has blonde hair cloud your judgement!! 

MADISON: oh shut up it’s early 

OLIVIA: Remember when you were begging not to watch the show??

MADISON: quarantine does weird shit to people ok

Emma enters the chat. 

EMMA: Ok but without Serena, don’t you think Blair is so much more lame? Like it’s the best friend combo that makes the show imo

ZOE: There she is!!!

MADISON: goooood morning to our very own barbie princess! 

OLIVIA: Why are any of us even awake? SCHOOL’S OVERRR. Should we like, do something?

EMMA: Like what? Sit on our asses and text each other from afar?

MADISON: sounds chill 

Emma laughs to herself. Damn. She’s going to miss them. 

Maybe there’s a way for her to tell...part of the truth? Leave the part about Julian out? Kind of a big part... Say she’s coming back? Make up a concrete opportunity? There has to be some sort of acceptable explanation...there just has to be. And even if she can’t come up with one...there are other things she wants to tell them about. Another boy. 

EMMA: Hey do you guys wanna do a zoom chat in a few min? Just kinda feel like talking more than texting rn 

MADISON: do u mind if i go back to bed and pass on that? I love u girl but i’m tired af  

ZOE: aaand same here, but it’s only because i’m supposed to do this thing…

OLIVIA: so call Gabriel?

ZOE: Wellllll...I don’t wanna lie to y’all.

Ha. Emma knows the feeling. 

EMMA: you out too Liv?

OLIVIA: I am innnnn give me a call when you’re ready 

MADISON: kiss kiss kiss

ZOE: kiiiiissssss

EMMA: bye losers 

Well, maybe telling one person is a good place to start. Liv is super understanding...she’ll be able to think of a good way to break the news to Mad and Zoe. Emma runs up to her room and closes the door. She flops down on her unmade bed, and facetimes Olivia. 

“Hey Liv”

“Emmmm”

Lingering silence. Emma just kind of stares at the wall. Olivia breaks the silence.

“Sooo what did you wanna talk about?”

Emma doesn’t know if she can do it. Ok, form words. Try. 

“I wanna tell you something, that’s kind of a long story. And it’s connected to other stories. And basically I’ve just gone too long without talking about any of it and now there’s like this big clusterfuck of details that I need you to know but can’t figure out where to start.” 

Whew. Even the vaguest of outbursts feels cathartic. Olivia doesn’t seem to be freaked out yet.

“Emma, I’m pretty sure I know you better than anyone. And you can trust me.” 

“I know you say that now but...I don’t know if, after I say what I, well I don’t know if you’re gonna trust me. I haven’t said everything that I need to say to you. Or Zo and Mad.” 

“Ok, so, here’s your chance. I’m listening.” 

Emma takes a deep breath. Where to start?

*knock knock* 

The knocks are soft. Unlike her mom’s, whose are very prison guard-esque, and actually who is more likely to not knock at all. Emma calls out. 

“What.” 

Isabel’s voice comes from the other side of the door.

“I gotta tell you something.” Her voice is uncharacteristically soft.

“I’m on the phone with Liv right now, can it wait?”

Silence. 

“Iz?”

Emma hears the creaking of Isabel’s footsteps down the wooden hallway, and then her beddoor shutting. Click, it locks. 

Emma turns back to the phone. 

“That was Iz, she’s been acting like a freak.” 

“What’s going on with her?”

“No idea. I feel like 14 is a weird age, plus like, she’s REALLY social and into school and shit. This quarantine is probably forcing an inversion of her personality.”

Olivia nods with sympathy. “God, that’s rough.” 

“Yeah...I feel kinda bad I guess. We just don’t really have anything to talk about.” 

“Oh come on, you’re sisters. Talk about how controlling your mom is.” 

Emma laughs. She flips onto her back and stretches her legs against the wall. Oh, physical exertion of any kind feels so unnatural. 

“Well Liv...we do have one thing in common. Which is...one of the things I haven’t told you.” 

Emma fights a smile. 

“TELL ME”

“So I saw Isabel playing this weird computer game, I mean I don’t even know if it was a game or like what the hell it was, but now, I’m downloading it…”

“Uh, ok?? Why?”

“This is going to sound insane, but hear me out…”

“Hearing…”

“I got this...message...online. From someone who I’ve never met. A guy, I think, and his name is Mason.”

“OOOMG” 

“Hahah well it’s not like that, I mean I have no fucking idea WHAT it’s like, because it’s very weird, and um, he’s the reason I’m downloading this game. The one that Iz is playing. Cuz he told me to.”

Silence. 

“That...is really fucking weird.” 

“I know.” 

“You don’t even know how badly I wish I was coming over right now to go all detective on his ass right now with you…”

Emma laughs. “I know you would be. It’s so weird being here alone.”

“You’re not alone Em!!! I’m here. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I’ll ALWAYS be here for you. That’s corny as hell but hey it’s true.” 

“Hah, yeah...same. I’m here.” 

How can Emma keep this incredibly annoying feeling of guilt suppressed? It’s kind of ruining the buzz of anything else. But it will be ok. Olivia will understand... 

*ping*

Emma has come to expect that any message received to her ghostwriter account will be from Mason. She jumps up from her bed, still on the call with Olivia. Emma starts to get excited. 

“So this is crazy but he just messaged me, ahhhhhh…”

“Eeee tell me what he said!!”

Sure enough, the message is from Mason.

MASON: hi! did you get it yet?

Emma reads the message aloud to Olivia, who is equally confused.

“What is he talking about?

“I have no idea…”

Emma starts typing a response. 

EMMA: Good morning! Get what..?

MASON: a package!

Emma looks confused. Was it...Mason who sent the package? What the hell? How does he know where she lives?? Well at this point she’s not surprised. 

“Liv, I gotta call you back!” 

“Ok you BETTER tell me what the hell this package situation is because congratulations this is now the most interesting thing happening in my life!!!” 

Emma ends the call and runs downstairs. Her parents haven’t moved from the couch, still watching coverage of the virus’s destruction on TV.

“Hey Mom where’s that package??”

“Iz said she’d bring it up to you.”

“What? Can you not give her my mail?”

Emma’s mom turns to face her. “Attitude. Chill.” 

Emma rolls her eyes and runs upstairs. She knocks on Isabel’s door. Well, bangs, really. 

“Hi ready to talk now. What’s up??” 

No response. As Emma presses her ear against the door, she can’t hear anything. She jiggles the handle, it won’t open. 

“This is really weird. Hello.”

“Hellooooo.”

“Fine, we don’t have to talk. But I need my package. Now.” 

……

Emma grabs the little key from behind the thermostat in the hallway. Isabel will just have to forgive her for this. Emma inserts the key into the lock and…

The lock clicks, the handle turns, and the door opens. 

Emma enters the room, ready for Isabel to yell at her. 

“Iz??”

First Emma sees the packaging. The medium-sized cardboard box on the ground, the bubble wrap, the plastic…it had clearly been torn off in a hurry...

Isabel is sitting at her computer, her back turned toward Emma.

“Isabel?!”

Emma runs over and jerks the swivel chair to face her, and Isabel slouches over. She’s wearing a virtual reality headset. 

The one that was sent to Emma in that package.

“ISABEL”

Isabel’s ears are covered with oversized headphones, but even without them, she wouldn’t be able to hear Emma anyway. Her body is limp. Non-responsive. 

Emma starts panicking and checks Isabel’s pulse--steady. Her breathing, normal. What is happening here? What is going on??

Then Emma sees the computer screen. 

The map. That fucking map. 

She turns back to Isabel. She thinks of Mason. She realizes.

The right question is not “What”, but “Where.”