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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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A Place To Call Home: Jensen’s Day

Summary: TJ approaches Jensen on how to best to handle the unexpected discovery of many of the reader’s childhood things. While the pair work out how to do that, Jensen spends some quality time with the other kids too...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 7,300ish

Warnings: language, angst, period talk, minor injury, fluffy dad Jensen

A/N: This part takes place in Jensen’s POV and after the TJ’s talk timestamp. Enjoy!

______

“Hey,” said a voice at the door. I jumped and looked over the top of the computer screen, TJ smirking. “I scare you?”

“Pft, no,” I said. I typed out the rest of the sentence, TJ wandering over to the leather chair in my office JJ normally used to read in. “I’m kinda in the middle of something. Can it wait?”

“Oh. Sorry,” he said as he went to stand. I waved him back down and shook my head.

“Read a book or something. I’ll be another few minutes,” I said. He turned his body back towards the bookcase, picking out one on homes. He flipped a few times and I glanced over at him, going back to the screen. I wrote out a few more lines and read it over, pretty satisfied with it. I set a reminder for myself to come back to it later and spun around in my chair. “So. What’s up?”

“What are you working on?” asked TJ as he flipped through the book still.

“Actor stuff,” I said.

“You always work on actor stuff with parchment paper next to you?” he asked. I looked over my shoulder and saw the paper and envelopes, TJ probably recognizing them. “Writing letters?”

“If you must know, yes, I am. I was. I prefer to handwrite them but I started this one on the road this week so I’ll write it down later,” I said. “So. What’s up?”

“Y/N started doing that, writing letters for the kids,” said TJ as he put the book back. “After the accident and all.”

“Yes, I know. What’s with the intrigue?” I asked.

“Well, you’re a sap. I needed some advice,” he said. I rolled my eyes and he cocked his head. “Oh yes. Clearly you’re a hardass.”

“Sometimes I miss the day you came over the first time and were scared shitless of me. Good times,” I said with a smile. I nodded and he got up to shut the door before taking a seat. “What are you up to?”

“Well...it’s complicated,” he said. “Like supernatural level complicated.”

“The show?” I asked and he shook his head. “TJ, buddy are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just…” he said. He reached into his back shorts pocket and pulled out a manila envelope. He handed it over and I opened it up, pulling out a few sheets of papers and photos. I recognized the face immediately, TJ sitting up on top of the desk. I smiled and TJ laughed. “You never seen baby pictures of Y/N?”

“No. We thought they were all lost. There were a few things from her parents we found but only a few boxes and her teddy bear. A few pictures but none of when she was little,” I said, smiling at the one of her in a onesie passed out asleep on her dad. “He looks young.”

“Her parents were older than you guys, right?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, a lot older. Just only ever saw them on that home video. Y/N had a picture once she said but some dickhead foster parent burned it,” I said. I pouted and felt TJ’s gaze on me.

“I get angry about stuff that happened to her too sometimes,” he said.

“Just don’t stay angry,” I said and he nodded. I turned my head at one of the sheets and went wide eyed. “Is this her birth certificate? How the Hell did you get this? It looks like the original.”

“It is. Long story short, I’m working on a renovation right now on the east side of town. Out in the suburbs, average home, nothing like this place or even ours to be honest. They needed an architect for like two days at most. Older couple. I got talking to them and we come to realize, I’m standing in Y/N’s old house.”

“What?”

“Yeah. It’s the one she grew up in. It’s her house,” he said.

“Small fucking world,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “I thought they ditched everything in the house after it went up for auction.”

“So did I. So did Y/N. Apparently, this couple packed up a lot of the personal stuff cause they felt wrong about throwing it out. They shoved it in some bins in the basement and forgot about it until this week. Jensen, I got bins full of photos and awards she won as a kid and stuff of her parents and did you know she was a ghostbuster for Halloween? I didn’t know that.”

“Neither did I,” I said. “Why not tell her you found this stuff?”

“Part of me is scared that she knew, that she didn’t want to deal with it. Maybe she wanted to shove it away. I don’t know. You know her as well as I do. What do you think?”

“I know she almost cried over a teddy bear when she was seventeen. I know when she saw that home video she almost cried. But I know both those times it was happy tears that would have happened. You know as well as I do this would mean the world to her.”

“I know it would which is why I need your help. How do we tell her?”

“Oh so you want to make a big elaborate thing out of it all I see.”

“I bet I could get at least your sappy letters level of waterworks,” he said.

“I’ve taught you well,” I laughed. “We’ll come up with something. Oh and I got something for you.”

I reached into a desk drawer and smiled as I pulled out an envelope. I held it out to him, TJ staring as he saw “Thomas James” written on the front.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Always keep an ace up your sleeve,” I said as I stood. I pushed it against his chest and walked past him. “It’s your first letter kid.”

“What?” he asked quietly. I turned around and smiled. “But I’m not…”

“Yeah, you are. Your dad’s a shithead and I don’t know when or if he’ll get his act together. Either way, you deserve better. I ain’t perfect. Not even close. But I do know you love your kids and for me that means all five of them. We don’t really care about blood relations around here if you haven’t picked up on that by now,” I said. He stared down at the letter and back at me. He nodded quietly and I laughed. “Read it in private and when you’re ready, we’ll figure out something for our girl.”

“Jensen. Why am I getting this now?” he asked as I reached to open the door.

“Cause you asked me for help on something that will bring my daughter joy. Cause you love her as much as the rest of us. Cause I felt like we’re at that place now where we can talk like this with no hesitation. Maybe cause you caught me writing letters and I was in a sappy mood. The letters aren’t always about a birthday or a wedding. Sometimes it’s just moments. Oh and you gotta work on your hand writing kid. Your kids are never gonna be able to read your chicken scratch.”

“I don’t…” he said as I smiled. “I tried writing one once and it sucked.”

“Considering your children can’t read yet, I think you got the time to figure it out,” I said. “Arrow and I are going golfing in a few. Wanna come?”

“I would but I have swim lessons with Allie. She’s getting pretty good. Y/N worries.”

“Never noticed,” I said. “Enjoy it. They’re only little once.”

“I will. Say hey to Arrow for me, Jensen.”

Two Hours Later

Arrow groaned as she sat down in the passenger seat of the cart. She took a swig from her water bottle and raised an eyebrow at me when she caught me staring.

“What?” she said, a little snippy.

“Can we try that nicer?” I asked. She rolled her eyes and sat back, crossing her arms. “Arrow, if you don’t want to golf with me today why’d you ask if we could go?”

“I thought we were going mini-golfing,” she said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. She shrugged and I turned in my seat. “Arrow…”

“You were like...excited about it and stuff,” she said. “It’s fine.”

“Well as good at this as you are, I’d much rather we go do something we both find fun. Okay, munchkin?”

She shrugged and I drove up the path, headed back to the clubhouse.

Twenty minutes later she was in the front seat of the car with her head against the window and eyes shut. I frowned and reached over to touch her forehead. It was warm and bit sweaty but she popped right up.

“What?” she snipped again. I looked at her for a moment before it clicked.

“Not feeling great?” I asked. She shook her head and I smiled. “Okay. I know just how to fix that.”

“Not something you can fix,” she mumbled.

“Oh, this I know how to fix. Trust me.”

“How’s that feel?” I asked when we were curled up on the couch in the TV room about half an hour later.

“Better,” she said, a light blush over her face as she held the heating pad to herself.

“We don’t gotta talk about it if you don’t want to,” I said.

“My friends dads don’t really talk to them about you know, periods,” she said with a wince.

“That’s too bad. They’d be able to make ‘em feel better if they did,” I said. “You’re already more of an expert on this than I am but your mom and older sisters say after the first year you really start getting the hang of what to expect and all that.”

“You can stop cramps?” she asked, happy for a moment.

“No, you can’t do that. But you learn what day it’s gonna happen and you learn what medicine works best for you, what makes you feel better best. Y/N got one of those heat pad stuffed animals for your sister. I hear heat helps.”

“Dad, this is kinda gross to talk about you know,” she said.

“Like I said, we don’t ever got to talk about it if you don’t want. Just...know you can.”

“I got that from when I got it and we had that talk. I don’t need it again,” she said. I held up my hands and returned my attention to the TV. “Dad. I’m sorry. That was mean.”

“S’okay. You got a lot going on right now inside you. I’ve lived with women a long time. I’m used to it at this point,” I said.

“Why does Zepp not have to deal with this?” she asked.

“Well...he also can’t make a baby. You got that on him.”

“A baby and cramps. Thanks genetics,” she said. I chuckled and she crawled over, using my leg as a pillow. “Why do you boys get everything? They get to not have periods and stuff.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side, kiddo. I’m sure some days, especially in the mornings, your brother would much rather be you right now,” he said.

“Huh?” she said.

“What grade do you take health class again?”

“Eighth,” she said.

“Oh. Okay. We’ll save that one. Better yet, you’ll find out when you’re thirty,” I said.

“Dad I know what sex is. Biology class. Make a baby,” she said. “Duh.”

“Oh really? Didn’t realize you were so grown up and all now,” I said, ruffling her hair. “What if you want to not make a baby?”

“They you don’t do it. Duh,” she said.

“Right, right. We’re gonna get you a book to explain all this to you,” I said, Arrow rolling her eyes. JJ wandered inside, hands behind her back, lifting up onto her tip toes. “I see someone wants to borrow the car.”

“Please? I’m just going over Tom’s,” she said.

“You’re going over the Pad’s to make out with your boyfriend you mean.”

“Tom is so not my boyfriend for the like, gazillionth time,” she said.

“Why you going to his junior prom then? As his date?”

“We’re just friends. Like, everybody does it,” she said. “I’m his best friend, like of course we’d go together.”

“What do you think? Is Tom just a friend?” I asked Arrow, a shit eating grin on her face.

“She doesn’t know-” said JJ, a loud crash happening somewhere in the house. I hopped up, the two of them following after.

“Zepp,” I called, jogging up the stairs. “Zeppelin.”

I rounder the corner into his room, spotting him on the floor, with a hand on his head. He looked away and I knelt down, putting a hand over his.

“Let me see,” I said. He winced and I pulled his hand back, spotting a gash on his forehead. “JJ, get me a towel please. Quickly.”

I heard her leave and I saw his desk chair flopped over on the ground.

“We told you not to stand on that thing, Zeppelin…” I said, seeing the spot of red on the corner of his desk.

“Sorry. It’s just a cut. I’m okay,” he said.

“I’m not mad, honey. Promise you won’t do it again?” I asked as JJ came back and handed me a towel.

“Yeah. Don’t have to worry about that,” he said. I put the towel against his head and looked at his eyes.

“Did you pass out?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m okay.”

“I know you are tough guy. We’re still going to urgent care,” I said. “JJ tell Tom to come over here. It’s getting late and I don’t want Arrow home alone.”

“We’re not going with you?” she asked.

“Do you really want to go sit in a waiting room for a few hours?” I asked. I helped Zepp to his feet, glad when he didn’t stumble. She shrugged and I turned to Arrow. She looked worried and I pursed my lips. “Well if you want to come, let’s go. Otherwise, JJ stay with your sister.”

I walked out ahead of them, Zeppelin groaning when I took his arm to walk down beside him. I sighed and left them in the kitchen while I grabbed my phone and wallet.

“Alright,” I said. I shooed them out to the garage, the three of them piling in their usual spots. I put the radio on low as I drove, a call coming in quick on the dash. I pressed the button on the wheel and forced a happy voice. “Hi hon-”

“JJ just texted me that her brother hit his head and he’s gushing blood everywhere,” she said. I shot her a look in the passenger seat and she mouthed sorry. “Jensen.”

“De he is not gushing blood. He has a little cut. We’re driving to urgent care right now,” I said.

“Mom, I’m fine,” he said from the back.

“Were you standing on that chair again?” she asked.

“On the way home, we’ll stop at home depot, get a step ladder. Problem solved,” I said. “I don’t even think he has a concussion. We’re just being careful is all. Alright? How’s your parents?”

“Fine. I’m gonna head home early,” she said.

“De. We’re fine. I’ll let you know as soon as he gets checked out, okay? Nothing you can do in the meantime,” I said. “Say hi to your folks.”

“Jay are you sure…” she said.

“Honey. I am absolutely 100% positive. He is fine. I promise,” I said.

“Alright. I’ll talk to you guys later okay? Love you.”

“Love you too,” I said before I hung up.

“You’re totally freaking out on the inside,” said JJ.

“Thank you for texting your mother. Guess who’s not hanging out with Tom tonight now,” I said.

“When was I even gonna go?” she said, rolling her eyes.

“How you holding up back there bud?” I asked as I got on the highway.

“I’m fine for the millionth time,” he said.

“Mhm. Sure you are.”

Three Hours Later

“Hey doc,” I said as we finally were getting out of there with a small bandage on Zeppelin’s head and an ointment for the cut in my hand. “I mentioned to the nuse, he uh, he had a head injury when he was a toddler. It was a hard hit was all, no concussion or anything. They told us to watch out for more of them is all and I know it was just a smack to the head tonight but he’s okay, right?”

“He shows no signs of anything aside from a cut and some bruising. It doesn’t warrant an MRI,” he said.

“I know. I just…” I said, trailing off when I saw Y/N’s friend Kelly walk by in the background. “Kelly.”

“Mr. Ackles! Everything okay?” she asked.

“Zepp hit his head tonight,” I said.

“You do an MRI?” she asked the other doctor. He seemed a little miffed but shoved the chart in her hands and she rolled her eyes as he left. “He’s kind of an asshole, don’t take offense.”

“None taken,” I said. “They said he’s fine but...you know.”

“Send the little shrimp back here and I’ll take care of him,” she said.

“I always knew I liked you,” I said. I got Zeppelin from the waiting room and she sent him off for a quick scan, letting me wait in the hall just outside. “Y/N said you were going for pediatrics if I remember?”

“Yeah. Kids are less of complainers than adults typically,” she said. “How’s Y/N? We haven’t hung out in a bit. Her babies still adorable?”

“Like always,” I said. I smiled and she looked a little a bashful. “It’s okay that you watched my show, Kelly. I’ve always known.”

“Really?” she asked, pursing her lips. “Y/N promised she wouldn’t ever tell you.”

“Oh she didn’t. The you saying holy fucking shit to Y/N when you saw me in the backyard for the first time kind of gave it away,” I said.

“Yeah, subtly isn't really my strong suit,” she said. I chuckled and she shrugged. “To be fair, like all of our friends think you’re the hot dad.”

“I know. It’s great to tease Y/N with,” I said. “Mind if I ask you a question while we’re waiting.”

“Shoot,” she said.

“Y/N. Why were you her friend? You know that’s a hard shell to crack. She doesn’t have a lot of them and most of those are TJ’s. Nothing wrong with that. Just wonder what made you say hi to the new girl at school.”

“This isn’t going to sound great but basically I had this ex boyfriend. He was like a dick once I told him I wasn’t ready to like, you know, do it yet and we broke off and like six months go by and then I had my new boyfriend at the time but this old ex was still like a super dickhead to pretty much every girl in school that wasn’t super popular. He was...he bullied her the first few days.”

“I never knew that,” I said.

“It was only a couple days. By the third day, she was fed up with it and snapped back at him. He didn’t like that so he shoved her and I just walked over and told him to back off of her. She just looked so...not scared but like, defeated you know?”

“Unfortunately yes, I do.”

“I guess we just talked about how much of a dick he was and we sat together at lunch and she eventually warmed up to me by the time we graduated.”

“She liked you before that. Trust me,” I said. “You’re a good kid. You’re gonna be a good doctor.”

“I hope so,” she said.

“So super fan. I gotta ask cause I also love to torture my children’s friends. Sam girl or the other one?” I said, giving her a smirk.

“I’m not answering that,” she said.

“In a way you did,” I chuckled. “Shoot Y/N a text sometime. We’ll get you hooked up with some con tickets sometime.”

“That’d be so cool!” she said. “If it’s no trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” I said as the door opened and Zepp came out. “How’d it go?”

“No bleeding,” said the tech that walked out and handed a slide to Kelly. She walked over to a wall and stuck it up to a light, nodding her head.

“He’s good. You guys are all set,” she said.

“Thanks Kelly.”

“I want pizza,” said Arrow about five minutes later as I texted De that everything was good from the truck.

“I want tacos,” said Zeppelin.

“I want pasta,” said JJ, looking at me. “What’s for dinner?”

“Well since we all agree it’s so simple,” I said with a chuckle. “How about cause at least two of you have felt crappy today we splurge a little and don’t tell mom.”

“Like what?” asked JJ.

“We will get italian food and tacos and the most unhealthy dessert we can find on the menu,” I said. “Eat whatever you want tonight.”

“Don’t we do that always?” asked Arrow.

“Yeah but dad’s a on a diet,” said JJ. I rolled my eyes and she held up her hands.

“I wasn’t on a diet. I had a cholesterol test and didn’t want to get yelled at by the doctor thank you very much,” I said. “But that was yesterday and I’m a free man now. We can go home and have leftover chicken salad if that’s what you guys want.”

“Not at all what we said, right guys?” said JJ.

“That’s what I thought you’d say. Seatbelts and someone look up some menus on their phones.”

One Hour Later

JJ burped from her seat, Arrow letting out one herself, the pair of them giggling as they dug into their desserts. Zeppelin shockingly didn’t want his so I saved it in the freezer for later. I figured the pain meds they’d given him had finally kicked in. I was cleaning up at the sink, the girls in the movie room when he came up behind me and gave me a hug.

“Feel any better?” I asked. I spun around and returned it, a little surprised when he snuggled into my chest. I ran my hand over his head and he took a deep breath.

“I’m really tired, dad,” he said.

“That’s the medicine they gave you. How about an early bedtime tonight and you’ll wake up feeling a lot better in the morning.”

“Okay,” he said, still not moving.

“Alright, alright,” I said. I moved back and squatted down, hoisting him up, legs wrapping around my back. “You better not be taller than me or else this is gonna get real difficult once you hit your growth spurt.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, resting his head on my shoulder.

“I gotcha,” I said. I got him upstairs and set him down on his bed, Zeppelin out by the time I tugged his covers down. I pulled them up over top and kissed his head. “Night kiddo.”

I turned off the lights and went downstairs, tidying up and pouring myself a glass of whiskey. It burned a bit but the good kind, not too overwhelming. I was about to head to the movie room when I caught something on the floor. I picked up the note and smiled.

DAD CHECK FRIDGE

“Well what did you leave us,” I said to myself, opening it up. There was a casserole dish with a note taped to it and I pulled it out.

Made an extra serving of chicken penne (tons of cheese for you). Just stick in the oven and I figure you four can survive another day without mom. Tell Zepp to stop trying to crack his skull open while you’re at it. Love ya. - Y/N

“What would we do without you and your mother,” I chuckled. I heard someone calling my name and I poured more whiskey into my drink. “Please don’t be twilight again. Please please don’t be that again.”

I carried the glass over to the tv room, the girls bundled up on either side of the couch. I didn’t make a face when I saw the sparkly vampire on the screen and was pretty proud of myself. They both started to laugh and I shook my head.

“Dad we know you hate it,” said JJ. “We wanna watch one of your movies.”

“Well well, tonight is a good time to introduce you two to a little movie called Tommy Boy.”

“Night giggles,” I said, the girls heading up to bed after the movie. I stretched out and went to my room, going out on the balcony and taking a seat outside, closing my eyes as I leaned back. “So. Got another question for you guys if you’re in the mood for listening tonight. TJ found some photos and some of your guys stuff. Not quite sure what the best way to give it to her is though. I feel like some fanfare should be involved. Nothing crazy but you know, make it special. Any genius ideas and I’d love to hear them.”

I took a sip from my drink, a light breeze in the night air.

“Someday I’d appreciate it if I got a little more feedback. Just saying,” I said. “She was a cute kid. Still cute but you know what I mean. Just want to get this one right.”

I sat outside for a while, texting for a bit until I got a bit too cold. I locked up and walked around the house, arming the security system before I climbed into bed. I groaned as I plopped down, barely getting my phone on the charger before I was curling up to sleep. My eyes wandered over to the phone when a text from TJ popped up.

Read the letter. Thanks. Means more than you know. Honestly.

Just don’t forget what I said, k? Night TJ

Night Jensen

“Now if only the other three could find ones like that, then we’d be pretty damn lucky,” I said to myself. I chuckled when I saw one last text pop up. I rolled over in bed to De’s side and used her pillow, snuggling down into it. Three more days and she’d be home again to help stop the crazy. Or at least slow it down.

The Next Day

“Alright so I came up with the perfect way to do it last night,” said TJ as he walked into the gym where I was running on the treadmill.

“I hope you knew how to do it before considering you have a child or else this is going to be very awkward.”

“Smartass,” he said.

“One of my best qualities,” I said as I hopped off. “Hit me with it.”

“A letter,” he said with a smile.

“You want to write her one go right ahead but…” I said with a shrug. “It’s definitely important but it’s not a letter kind of thing for me.”

“You literally write sappy letters for your children’s life changing events all the time.”

“TJ. I didn’t make these things or buy them for her. Her parents took those pictures. I can’t write a letter. It’s not my gift to give.”

“It’s not a gift though. It’s-”

“TJ, I’m not writing one. You don’t force that shit. Not the important shit. You should write her a letter and tell her how you found the stuff. That’d be really sweet.”

“So you don’t want to be involved in this now,” he said. I took a deep breath and stared at him. “I’m just trying to understand why you’re changing your mind.”

“I’m not her dad, TJ,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “I’m not the guy in those photos. It feels awkward if I did that. Those are her memories. You found them. This is totally your thing. You do whatever you want or I’ll help but I’m not writing her a letter, alright?”

He scoffed and I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes.

“TJ. Enough.”

“You’re so fucking stupid. For someone really smart you’re an idiot, Jensen,” he said as he turned to leave.

“Excuse me but why don’t you say what you have to say to my face,” I said. He stopped and turned around, walking over to me, his jaw clenched. “What.”

“If she ever heard those words out of your mouth, it’d destroy her. You literally do not understand how important you are to her you idiot.”

“I understand perfectly well how-” I said before TJ audibly growled. A part of me was happy for a moment at that reaction. Obviously he was pissed and trying to do something to benefit Y/N. For the most part though I had no clue what he was talking about. “Clearly I don’t understand what this is about so-”

“You fought for her, Jensen. I wasn’t there but I know how it was when she came to this house. She ran away. She didn’t want to be here. But you made her a promise, that you cared. No one cared about her for years. I don’t think even you know how deep that hole inside of her was. None of us do. But she tried because you were so damn adamant. Everyday it terrified her. Until it didn’t. Until you got from that first day to now. Jensen you ever tell her you’re not her father to her face and I’ll kick your fucking ass.”

I blinked a few times and frowned, opening my mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“You are her father. She had two. That’s all there is to it. If you think you’re second place or that she loves you any less, you haven’t been paying attention good enough. There is no dad that raised her and dad that adopted her. It’s just dad to her, that’s it. Why don’t you stop being the scared one for once, take a page out of her book and put some fucking trust in your daughter that she loves you just as much as her first father. Understand that?”

I swallowed and nodded, walking out the side door and to the backyard. I walked down to the dock and took a seat, closing my eyes as I exhaled.

“Jensen,” said TJ behind me.

“I got the message kid,” I said.

“I’m sorry for...I just don’t understand why you’re afraid of believing her. What she’s saying isn’t a bad thing.”

“No,” I said as he took a seat beside me. “But I don’t want to wipe away who he was or who her mom was either. I am her second father. I didn’t get unconditional love off the bat like you do with your own children. I guess part of me is afraid she’ll decide it’s conditional again one day.”

“Do you get why I called you stupid?” he asked.

“TJ, I know how I have always felt but it wasn’t like that for her. That’s okay. But I can’t…” I shrugged.

“Can’t trust that she won’t hurt you and say it’s conditional again?”

“Exactly.”

“Funny. A seventeen year old girl found a way to trust you. You’re fifty one and you should know better than her.”

“I’m older and bigger and stronger but I’m not tougher. She had the hard job all along. Just don’t know if she knew that.”

“You know...I know some of the nitty gritty details about the accident. Y/N told me a month back. She didn’t want to but I needed to know, for myself.”

“Did she now,” I said, looking out at the water, watching as a boat went past.

“I know you’re alive because of her. I know you two fought pretty good during it all. I know she screamed at you that she wasn’t leaving you. The girl kept you alive when you should have died. I don’t know what more she has to do to prove to you that there is nothing you could do to make her not love you unconditionally. So suck it up and own that you’re her dad. Write a fucking letter, don’t write a fucking letter. Just stop being scared of her hurting you. She stopped being afraid of you a long time ago.”

“I thought you were kinda nerdy when we first met,” I said. “That was the first time Y/N called me dad actually.”

“You’re a nerd,” he said and I smiled.

“You are as kind and gentle and as much of a best friend to her as I could ever hope for. I love you kid. But I’ve never seen you mad like that. Wasn’t sure if you were capable of it. Now I know you will do anything for her, even jeopardize a relationship with me, one you need in your life too.”

“I care about you but nothing will ever be more important to me than her and my children.”

“I will think about writing a letter,” I said. He nodded and I returned it. “For the record, you so couldn’t kick my ass.”

“I could still try,” he said.

“I suppose you could. Let’s not ever test it out,” I said. He hummed and I stood up. “Thanks kiddo. Always get a little wrapped up when it comes to her for some reason.”

“Not a bad thing,” he said.

“Can’t wait to see you freaking out over your daughter. Ah, that’ll be nice. Let’s have this chat when she’s sixteen.”

“Your daughter is sixteen,” he said with a smirk.

“Shut up. I don’t even want to think about whatever she gets up to with that boy,” I said.

“Just fyi, she’s a smart, innocent kid. Like innocent innocent. She talks to her sister. You’re good.”

“I’m totally not gonna shove you in the water now for that,” I said. “Come on. You can help me wash the cars.”

“What? Why?” he groaned.

“That’s what you get for coming in like a hothead. Come on. I might even let you drive Baby when we’re done.”

Later That Night

I’d just sat down with a sheet of paper and pen when I got a text from Y/N, tons of pictures of her from when she was little coming in.

OMG. TJ found these at my old house. Can you believe it! We’re gonna make copies of everything for you and mom.

I smiled and sat back, scrolling through them for a few minutes.

That’s awesome! We’ll take whatever we can get. You were pretty cute, tall munchkin.

I got in another bunch of pictures, stopping at a set in a frame. There was a black and white one of her and her dad from when she was little the two of them looking straight at the camera and laughing, a bit of ice cream stuck on Y/N’s nose. The one on the far right was one of us in a very similar pose after a day on the lake, Y/N cracking up. The center one was a little less crisp but it was easy enough to see that TJ had gotten a picture from the home video with me and her parents, this one of me and her dad giving each other a smile as a very small Y/N was passed between us.

TJ made this up for me. Isn’t it so cool? I love it so freaking much. It’s perfect.

“Yeah it is,” I said. I wrote back and wiped off my face with the back of my hand, JJ standing there in the doorway when I moved my hand back. She walked over and gave me a hug and I showed her the photos, a big smile crossing her face.

“That’s so cool. Y/N’s dad was a dork like you,” she said.

“I’m Y/N’s dad ya dork,” I said, pulling her into a noogie. She laughed and plopped down on my knee, scrolling through my phone. I gave her a hug, JJ looking through the phone for a few minutes.

“Dad. Why were you crying?”

“Got a little emotional for a second is all,” I said. “Sometimes I forget that I make her smile as much as her other dad did.”

“I like this one,” she said, turning the phone around, showing another one from the airport but not something I recognized from the tape. I vaguely recalled something to do with a bear and scratched my head.

“Uh oh,” I said as I glanced over at the main corridor. There was a teddy bear on the ground, not too far off from where I’d found that little girl a few minutes earlier. “Tell mom I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Don’t miss the flight doofus,” said my sister and I rolled my eyes as I stood up.

“Loser,” I said before I walked over and picked up the bear. I looked down at the other gates, knowing Y/N’s family had taken off that way. I started walking, trying to look around but these were big flights and there were a million people everywhere.

I pursed my lips and kept going, looking all around before I felt something hugging the back of my leg.

“Hi Jay!” said Y/N, looking up at me as I spun around. I saw her mom shaking her head as her dad stood up and walked over.

“What’d we say about you staying with your parents?” I laughed. I held out the bear and she immediately looked relieved.

“You found Teddy! Daddy Jay found Teddy!” she said as she hopped up and down, squeezing the thing for dear life.

“Finding the bear might have been an even bigger crisis averted than before,” chuckled her dad. “I guess we Y/L/N’s owe you one.”

“I just saw it and figured it was hers. She’s having a rough day,” I said, glancing down as she beamed up at me.

“Oh yeah, clearly,” he chuckled. “You in college yet?”

“Uh no sir. I just graduated highschool. I might go in the winter if my plans don’t work out,” I said.

“Nothing wrong with manual work for a living.”

“I’m gonna try and be an actor,” I said.

“Any good?”

“No idea.”

“Well, you better let me get a picture of you and the kiddo for if you make it big someday. We can say we knew you were before you were famous,” he said.

“I’d settle for not flopping on my face,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Come on you two,” he said, pulling out a disposable camera. I squatted down and Y/N gave me a hug. He took a few and laughed as I stood up. “I do not know what it is about you she’s so in love with. She’s normally quite shy around strangers.”

“Me too,” I said. “Hey munchkin. Do me a favor and stay with your parents for me? Please?”

“Okie dokie,” she said, skipping back over to her mom.

“Thanks for the bear and finding her, kid,” he said as I started to go. “I hope that acting thing works out for you. If it doesn’t, consider doing something with kids. You’re great with ‘em.”

“I don’t think I could handle more than whatever I end up making myself,” I said. “And maybe a kid like yours. She’s pretty easy going.”

“You got a long time ahead of you before you get there. Have a safe flight back, Jensen.”

“You too, Mr. Y/L/N.”

“Dad, hello,” said JJ, her hand waving in front of my face. I blinked and shook my head, smiling at the picture. “What’s that from?”

“I found her bear, gave it back to her.”

“How old were you?” she asked.

“Oh, only a few years older than you,” I said. “Still just a kid.”

“You should hang it up with our little kid pictures,” she said.

“I think I just might,” I said. “It never bothered you, us bringing your sister here, did it? You were young at the time and I knew we had a few rough first weeks but I mean even as you got older. You never felt like mom and I didn’t care about you guys as much right?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “We got a big sister. It’s nice having one of those. We just wanted her to be happy I think. She tells me more stuff now that I’m older. I literally can’t imagine living her life. I just can’t. It sounds terrifying.”

“Only a part was. We gave her a family back, including you,” I said. I booped her nose and she smiled. “So. What are your plans tonight? Hang out with the Pad boys?”

“Nah. They’re doing something with Cody tonight. I thought we could hang out if you’re not going anywhere,” she said.

“No, no plans for me tonight. Why don’t you go round up the other two and we’ll go play some minigolf. How’s that sound?”

“Okie dokie,” she said. I smiled and she left the room. I picked up my phone and shoved it in my pocket, stretching as I stood up. I leaned over to my desk drawer and put the paper and pen back inside, a few envelopes with letters already in there. She popped back into view and I closed it up.

“All set?”

“Mhm. Are we taking your truck?”

“Let’s take Baby out,” I said, walking around the desk. “After you, kiddo.”

_______

A/N: Read the Halloween timestamp here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x daughter!reader #rpf #au #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #jensen x reader #jensen fanfiction #spn series #supernatural series

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

To Look On Tempests and Not Be Shaken

Summary: In the wake of a blazing row and an empty apartment, Aaron finds Spencer's well-thumbed copy of Shakespeare's sonnets and recalls the morning after their wedding, when Spencer sat on his lap and read Sonnet 116 to him. Suddenly, everything makes sense.

Tags: angst with a happy ending, fighting and making up, married hotchreid, relationship dynamics, introspection, fluff, shakespeare/literature

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

(Set in S11, AU in which Haley/Aaron divorced in S1 and Aaron/Spencer married in S4.)

It wasn’t really either of their faults: work was relentless at the moment and they hadn’t had any real time for one another in weeks. That’s not really a consolation to either Spencer or Aaron, however, when they’re in the middle of a blazing row that has them both drowning in flames of anger and passion, unable to see one another for the smoke filling their apartment.

“Aaron, this is the fourth case in a row that you’ve stayed at the office past 4 in the morning to wrap up the paperwork,” Spencer shouts, frustration rising in his chest as he tugs at his hair, already feeling far too overwhelmed. Aaron is looking as unbothered and stoic as he always does during their fights, and even though Spencer is fully aware of the emotion that will be stirring under his carefully constructed mask, it doesn’t make it any less exasperating.

“You know as well as I do that this sort of work load is completely unavoidable,” Aaron says lowly, anger finally audible in his voice. It’s not as satisfying as Spencer had hoped. “We can’t keep rehashing this same old argument. I’m the Unit Chief of a team in one of the most prestigious FBI departments. I have a responsibility.”

“You have a responsibility to me and Jack as well,” Spencer cries, fury bubbling over as he thinks of Jack and just how much he deserves. “We deserve your time just as much as fucking serial killers do.”

Aaron visibly flinches as Spencer swears, an occurrence rare enough to indicate serious emotion. “This is exactly the argument I used to have with Haley, Spencer,” he says harshly. “I refuse to have it with you, too. If you can’t handle it then maybe you should leave, just like she did, hm?”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe that means there’s an element of truth in it then, Aaron?” Spencer asks, voice breaking slightly as the scale tips away from uncontained ire towards hopeless misery. He turns away from his husband, trying in vain to conceal his crumpled face and damp eyes. “And you know I would never do that to you; don’t you dare throw your unresolved issues back in my face.”

“I can’t deal with this right now,” Aaron says, voice and face hardened; Spencer can almost see the walls he’s building up again, the stubborn refusal to concede any point. “You’re not being rational. I’m going to bed.”

His stomach twists with the desperation of the situation as he says quietly to Aaron’s turned, retreating back, “What happened to never going to bed angry?” He doesn’t turn back around.

⭐️

Aaron waits in bed for Spencer to join him, fully intending to feign sleep the moment he enters the bedroom but nevertheless longing to know he’s safely tucked next to him in bed. When he hears the quiet click of the front door and checks the time to see he’s been waiting for almost 25 minutes, though, a panicked feeling fills his chest. He throws the covers back and treads out to the living room, only to be met with a decidedly empty room. If he was a more spiritual man he’d say he could still feel the angry aura of their previous argument lingering over the furniture. Really what he feels is the inevitable, empty vacuum a home without Spencer in it is bound to house.

He sits down on the sofa, just on the wrong side of too cold in his threadbare t-shirt and underwear, and buries his head in his hands. The problem is that he knows Spencer’s right. He and Jack both deserve better than this kind of life, of course they do. Jack deserves a father, Spencer deserves a husband. Admitting such a fact, however, requires humility, vulnerability, failure almost. It means telling his boss that he needs reinforcements, that he can’t continue with the 80+ hour weeks, that he’s not as strong as he used to be.

That sort of thing takes a courage that feels so far out of reach, though, and he’s left defending a place he doesn’t want to be in against people he loves more than anything in the world.

Forcing himself out of his miserable carousel of thoughts and regrets, he pulls his head from his hands and catches sight of a note on the coffee table, his name scrawled across it in Spencer’s handwriting. Immediately, his heart sinks: it’s unlikely a love letter. It’s far more likely it’s a note of good riddance, an announcement of abandonment.

Turning it over in his shaking hands, he reads:

I’ve gone to stay with Derek and Penelope for the night. I will pick up Jack from Jessica’s in the morning, on my way home. I love you. Spencer

He immediately feels guilt at ever having thought that Spencer would be cruel enough to leave him in the same way he’s been left himself one too many times. His husband has an incredible amount of love filling his heart, and he’s simply incapable of such cruelty. It’s been a fear of his for many years, that Spencer would grow unhappy but be too kind to leave, prioritising Aaron above himself. He knows it’s Haley’s fault for embedding such fear and doubt in his heart all those years ago, but he can’t help but berate himself for ever doubting Spencer.

It’s not like they’re about to break up. When he considers the situation logically, he knows that. He loves Spencer, Spencer loves him, and ultimately, he’s going to relent. He’s going to draw on whatever shreds of courage remain in his tattered and beaten soul and do whatever it takes to make his family happy, to give them what they deserve. He just has no idea how to cross the gaping chasm that stands in the way of reaching that eventuality.

He goes to place the note back down on the coffee table, but his eyes land on the book it had originally rested on: Spencer’s well-loved copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets. He picks it up, sort of absent-mindedly, thumbing the pages the love of his life has read countless times, holding on to the book as an emotional connection to Spencer. It’s travelled their entire relationship with them; he remembers it laying on his spare bedside table back when Spencer visited his apartment in the dead of night, terrified of anyone finding them out. He’d read the poems over and over again, long into the night. Aaron can’t help but smile at the memory of Spencer’s unique quirks.

Eventually, his absent fiddling lands him on a page Spencer’s visited time and time again. A worn leather bookmark Aaron recognises as one of Diana’s gifts marks the page titled Sonnet 116. Tired and lovelorn, he begins reading.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd. Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare

((Modern Translation, if you’d prefer:

I will not admit that interferences are possible in the union of two people In love. Love that changes when circumstances do is not love, Nor if it bends when someone tries to destroy it: Oh no! It is an eternally fixed point, Which may watch storms but is never shaken by them; it is the guiding star for ever lost ship: Its distance may be measured but its quality cannot be. Love does not fall victim to Time, though features of youth Are eventually entrapped by him; Love doesn’t change as hours and weeks race past, But endures until death. If this is wrong, and I’m proved incorrect, Then I never wrote, and no man ever loved.))

The words come rushing back to him as soon as he reads them: it had been a contender for Spencer’s chosen poem at their wedding. He’d eventually gone with I loved you first by Christina Rosetti, the perfect compliment to his own choice of I love you by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, but on their first morning as a married couple, laid in their warm and comfortable bed, Spencer had pulled out this very book and straddled Aaron’s thighs, reading it to him with an earnest expression. He remembers the air being punched out of his chest as he’d looked up at a bright-eyed 27-year-old Spencer who had been through so much already but still held all the grace and innocence he did on his first day at the BAU.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until a tear runs down his nose and splashes on the page. What really tips him over the edge is reading Spencer’s small, chicken-scratch annotations around the poem, noting different points in their relationship, events between the two of them that prove the words of an Englishman born 400 years earlier.

It’s so easy for him to doubt how much Spencer loves him - insecurities and the trauma of his separation from Haley consume him far too often - but he’s holding the tangible, physical proof. This is undeniable, this is the evidence his doubtful, damaged heart yearns for, and the furious, raging, endlessly tumultuous waters inside him settle for the first time in weeks.

⭐️

The second Aaron’s alarm goes off at 6am, he gets started on the plan he’d formed as soon as the words of Shakespeare’s sonnet had sunk in. The email he’d composed the night before is the first thing his laptop screen displays when he powers it on, and he presses send on the uncompromising, demanding letter he’d addressed to Cruz. Finally feeling good about the entire situation, he turns the coffee maker on and gets dressed; Spencer’s an early riser but he’s determined to get to Derek and Penelope’s before he leaves.

The relief is freeing, and he feels light for the first time in a long time. He hadn’t quite realised just how much it had all been weighing on him until he’d finally found the courage to cut it free.

Armed with two coffees and Shakespeare’s sonnets, he heads downstairs to the taxi he’d ordered the night before. The city races past in front of the slow and steady sunrise, dawn marking a new chapter in Aaron’s life that he’s determined to make worth it. Slowly the thick of the city fades into the suburbs, and the taxi slows down as they wind through the maze of identical looking streets until they arrive at Derek and Penelope’s home.

He pays the taxi driver as quickly as possible and sighs in relief at the sight of Spencer’s car still on the drive as he climbs out of the vehicle, carefully balancing his two coffees, still warm in their thermal mugs. Fully aware that Derek and Penelope are absolutely going to chew him out the minute they lay eyes on him, he hesitantly rings the doorbell.

“Man, what the hell?” Derek exclaims, clearly exasperated as he swings the door open, revealing a sorry looking Aaron Hotchner standing sheepishly on his doorstep.

“I know,” Aaron replies immediately, trying to portray as much regret and understanding with his body language as is possible when holding two coffees with your husband’s most prized possession perched precariously under your arm. “I know, I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I need to see Spencer.”

Derek looks thoroughly put out just being in Aaron’s presence, but after a moment or two of hesitation he relents, opening the door wider to let him through. “Alright,” he sighs. “I’ll ask if he’s okay to see you.”

He parks Aaron in the living room and then leaves to go and find Spencer. Only seconds later, he hears the hurried click of kitten heels on the wooden floor and internally cringes; if facing Derek was bad, facing Penelope will be infinitely more painful.

“Aaron Hotchner,” Penelope shouts before she’s even fully entered the living room, “I have never, and I mean never been more disappointed in you. I don’t think you fully appreciate how lucky you are. You may be my boss but that does not mean I will not chew you out when you screw up this bad. Anyone who makes my Spencer cry is in my bad books for at least two weeks. You are in the dog house, you understand me? The dog house.”

She’s thankfully cut off from continuing her rant by Spencer’s shy, hesitant appearance at the doorway. Penelope immediately rushes over and gives him a hug, whispering something in his ear that Aaron doesn’t catch but makes Spencer giggle. She reaches up to ruffle his hair before patting his cheek fondly and casting a furious glare in Aaron’s direction as she vacates the living room.

“Hi,” Aaron says softly, breaking the silence left in the wake of Storm Penelope. “I bought you a coffee.”

“What are you doing here, Aaron?” Spencer asks, clearly a little confused but still accepting the drink.

“I know you said that you’d come home this morning but I had to come and get you,” he replies, standing up from his seat on the couch and taking a few steps forward. “Look… your note last night, it was on top of this book. And in my absent-minded cloud of misery I was looking through it and came across Sonnet 116.”

A flicker of recognition lights up Spencer’s eyes as his face softens a little at the sight of his beloved book.

“Do you remember? Climbing into my lap on our one day wedding anniversary and reading it to me? Back then I was partly distracted by the gorgeous man in my arms but last night… Spencer, the words hit home in a way I haven’t felt before. Not to mention your annotations; I felt like I was reading a journal of our love story, which I know was probably your intention all along.” He shakes his head, trying to get back on track. “I’ve been an idiot, a rotten fool, and I’m so sorry. I emailed Cruz this morning.

“You did?” Spencer looks up, surprise filling his features for a second before a small, hopeful smile takes over. “What did you say?”

“That I couldn’t continue with the workload and I needed reinforcements. That I would work the same hours for two more weeks to allow them to find an adequate solution, but after that I’ll be reducing my hours to align almost directly with yours,” he says, tentatively gauging Spencer’s reaction.

It’s made pretty easy for him when Spencer’s hesitantly hopeful smile blossoms into a wide grin, relaxing his posture as relief overtakes his body and he throws himself into Aaron’s arms. Aaron buries his face into his husband’s curls and lets himself breathe easy, feeling infinitely better with Spencer wrapped up in his arms again, just where he belongs.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Aaron whispers as he pulls Spencer impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry, too,” Spencer sighs, nestling his face further into Aaron’s neck. “We both said things we shouldn’t have. But, you’re here now, and that’s what counts.”

“I love you, you know that?” Aaron murmurs, pulling away slightly so he can look Spencer in the eyes, trying to convey his sincerity as well as possible.

“I know,” he smiles. “I love you, too.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Aaron says, patting Spencer’s side gently. “Let’s get out of here before Penelope comes to stab me with her high heels.”

Spencer giggles at that. “I don’t know, maybe, I’d like to see that,” he teases, digging his finger into Aaron’s ribs for good measure.

“Oh, stop it you,” Aaron smiles fondly before kissing the top of Spencer’s head, feeling happier in this moment than he’d ever thought possible again last night. Peace is finally restored in Aaron Hotchner’s heart, all thanks to one rather ancient English playwright and an academic for a husband. “Let’s go and get Jack,” he says, longing to have his whole family back together, to restore the equilibrium of a tumultuous few weeks.

Spencer leans down to kiss his shoulder as they walk out of the Morgan-Garcia household, and it’s enough to keep him warm the whole way home.

@strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez

#hotchreid #my writing #hotchreid fic #hotchreid writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #aaron hotchner/spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid

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cavalierious-whim · 3 years

Text

Love, Misunderstood (FE3H)

Sylvix | Modern AU | Fake Dating | Teen So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

----

A/N: I wrote this for the Sylvix Server's Secret Santa Event last year. Read here on AO3 for better quality! And follow me on Twitter here! @Satodee1 on Twitter drew an AMAZING fanart for this fic as well! I cannot believe I've been blessed so. Please take a look here and give them a follow!

----

Let go the fear of falling in love.

So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

One, there isn’t time. By day he’s almost a professional athlete with dozens of fencing titles to his name, and by night he’s a business student double majoring in Marketing and Finance. His days are full of workouts and conditioning, a carefully maintained diet, and when the sport isn’t on his mind, his academics are.

Two, there’s no interest. None. Whatsoever. Felix has never once looked at another person and thought, Yes, I would like that one.

Which brings him to his current problem: there’s an annoyance in his face that some might think is pretty if they liked overly bleached hair and heavily lacquered nails. Gum pops in her mouth. She twirls a long tendril of hair around a finger like the love interest from a nineties sitcom.

Felix doesn’t just hate; he loathes and despises. Less so the girl and more so at being perceived as a romantic option. He feels as though he does a pretty good job selling the fact that he’s entirely off of the market, even going as far as snarling at hopefuls. Apparently, some people are just infuriatingly stubborn.

Or maybe just oblivious. Felix is starting to lean towards the latter, watching carefully as the girl stares back at him, dreamily.

“So, like,” she says, punctuating the words with a giggle, “I’m a big fan. Of you and you know, your fencing.”

Felix is a hundred percent sure that she has no idea what she’s talking about. What he says instead is, “I’m studying.” Neat and simple, and not even mean. Hopefully enough to fend her off. He’s almost proud of himself.

She blinks at him like she’s trying and failing to process what he’s just said. “So, that bout last weekend,” says the girl, relentless in her pursuit. “You really honed in the touches, winning before the time limit.”

This surprises him; maybe his earlier assessment is incorrect and she’s honestly a fencing fan. Felix meets her gaze and she stares back, smacking her gum, hair still wrapped around her finger, and eyes glinting.

Right, no, she’d just done her research.

“Thank you,” says Felix because he’s not entirely an asshole. “But as I said, I’m studying, so if you would--”

“It was truly riveting,” continues the girl, clasping her hands before her. “Your form is just exquisite.” She says the word like he’s a prized pig.

Felix is losing his patience, his fingers tightening around his pencil and squeezing tighter and tighter. It might snap under his grip. It’s happened before.

“Look,” says Felix, his tone hardening just a modicum, “I appreciate--”

“So, how about grabbing a bite to eat together?” asks the girl, batting her eyes at him in an exaggerated flourish.

Felix opens his mouth to say something rather nasty, but he’s interrupted by someone dropping into the chair next to him. “Darling.” An arm finds its way slung around his shoulder and Felix goes rigid. “I’m sorry that I’m late; got stuck in traffic. You know what rush hour is like.”

It takes everything for Felix to not grab the man’s arm and break his wrist.

Before he can do so though, the man looks to the girl and says, “A bite to eat? All of us? Group dates are always fun.”

The girl, to her credit, looks about as flabbergasted as Felix feels. “Um--”

“Unless you meant alone with my boyfriend?”

Felix immediately starts, turning to look at him incredulously. “Boyfriend--”

“My mistake,” the girl apologizes immediately. “I didn’t, um, realize that you… Anyway, thank you for the chat!” And with a wave, the bleached-blonde bimbo takes her leave.

Felix whirls onto the man next to him, immediately shrugging out of his grasp. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man is lightly tanned, cheeks dusted with a spattering of warm freckles. His hair is auburn and unruly, curling wildly around his forehead and ears. His smile is crooked, a dimple forming at the left corner of his mouth. Handsome, if Felix likes people. He doesn’t, he reminds himself.

“Saving you,” the man says. “Really, she just wouldn’t let you go. It’s astonishing really, I could feel the leave me the fuck alone vibes radiating off of you from across the shop.”

Felix blinks at that. “I didn’t need help.”

“I think that you did.”

“I didn’t,” repeats Felix, unable to let go of his stubborn need to get the last word in. Glenn used to say that it was the best and worst part of him.

“You could have just told her no.” The man pauses, thumbing at his chin as though he’s amused. “You don’t seem the type to be nice and gently let someone down.”

Felix isn’t; he’s the type to throw books at people instead, and be brutally blunt about what he does and doesn’t want. “I was distracted,” he finally says, “I’m studying for an exam and she just caught me off guard. I promise you, had I been on my game I would have done far worse.”

The other man cocks his head to the side, watching him, and Felix already hates the calculating gaze. “You really go all in, don’t you?” he asks. “Just no fucks given as to what people think about you?”

“I’m not here to date, I’m here to go to school.”

“How boring,” says the man.

“I like boring,” says Felix.

There’s a beat and then, “I’m Sylvain.” Sylvain holds his hand out for a shake. Felix stares at it as though it might bite him, but Sylvain waits patiently. “You owe me at least yours.”

There isn’t a chance in hell that this man doesn’t know who Felix is; his face is plastered across every Garreg Mach University billboard this side of Fodlan. Still, Felix has been raised with manners and he can hear Glenn rolling over in his grave.

Felix hates manners but sucks it up.

“Felix,” he says finally, still ignoring Sylvain’s hand. “Thank you for the help, but I don’t need it. Now leave me alone. I don’t have time to entertain jockstraps like yourself.”

Sylvain eventually puts his hand down and watches Felix for a long moment. Felix doesn’t like the slightly amused grin that seems permanently attached to his face. “Got it,” says Sylvain eventually. He stands and throws his bag back over his shoulder. “Then this jockstrap will take his leave.”

Felix almost feels bad, prompting him to say, “My appreciation is honest. If you hadn’t stepped in I might’ve snapped the girl’s neck instead.” He expects him to run off at such vivid imagery, like so many do.

But instead, Sylvain just throws his head back and laughs, before leaving him be.

“Do you like Adrestian Barbecue?”

This one cuter than the last, pert little nose and wavy locks of brown framing her face nicely. Felix still isn’t remotely interested. “I’m studying,” he says, trying his best to sound at least polite. He’s not very good at it, but the woman pays it no mind.

“This’ll only take a moment,” she says. “I’m wondering if you’d like to go get lunch or something? There’s a great new place that’s just opened up off of Twenty-Fourth Street, and--”

“Babe,” someone cuts in, leaning over Felix’s shoulder, their cheeks barely inches from each other. Sylvain, Felix’s mind supplies before being annoyed that he’d remembered. Felix hadn’t seen him in the shop for a few weeks. Sylvain to his credit doesn’t sling his arm around and immediately drop into the chair without permission, he just hovers next to him. Waiting.

A slight improvement.

“Sylvain,” says Felix. Then pauses, unsure how to continue. He swallows and then, “You’re late.”

Sylvain chuckles. “Traffic.”

Felix huffs, a little emboldened. “That’s the excuse you used last time.”

“And it’s still true,” says Sylvain.

“Um,” says the woman who’s been interrupted. “I was trying to ask--”

“My boyfriend to lunch,” cuts in Sylvain. “Yes, I saw that. I can barely get him to go out with me, what makes you think that he’d have a go with you?”

Felix’s eyes nearly bulge at the aggressive raking. Sylvain seemed like a nice man the last they met, but perhaps Felix has underestimated him. It sounds like a jab straight from Felix’s book.

The woman’s mouth falls open and she gawks but quickly recovers. “Right,” she says. “My apologies, I’d thought-- Never mind that. Have a wonderful day Mr. Fraldarius.”

Felix cringes as she turns and walks away.

“Mr. Fraldarius,” drawls Sylvain, falling into the chair next to him. “I really do have a habit of coming to rescue you.”

“I didn’t need to be rescued,” says Felix, acerbically. “It isn’t my fault that you insist on butting in where you aren’t wanted.”

“So, you wanted to go grab lunch with her?”

Felix closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and lets out a frustrated grunt. “Absolutely not.” Sylvain doesn’t say anything, just watches him with unwavering patience. Eventually, Felix says, “Look, I appreciate your willingness to help, but--”

“You know, I could just pretend to be your boyfriend and they’d leave you alone for good.”

Felix blinks and then he scowls. “What?”

Sylvain shrugs, noncommittal. “You study here nearly every day. I study here too. I finally stepped in because you seem to get attention all of the time and it does nothing but annoy you. Seriously, people have no boundaries.”

Felix wants to tell Sylvain that he has no boundaries either, but decides not to fuel the fire. Instead, he says, “There’s no reason for you to help me, you would gain nothing from it.”

“Some peace and quiet. Do you know how hard it is to focus on schoolwork here when women and men are trying to approach you? I come here for the quiet, not to watch the latest episode of Blind Date.”

Sylvain has a point; the people who approach him tend to be rather loud about it. Felix thinks about the proposition for a moment. “No,” he finally says. “You don’t have to study here. Go elsewhere.”

“It’s preferable to my dorm,” says Sylvain, not bothering to elaborate. “And, I think that’s why you study here as well. You hate people and would do anything to avoid them entirely. Even if it means studying in public.”

Felix cringes because Sylvain’s nailed it on the head; the general public is less invasive than Ashe is. His roommate is nice but needlessly curious. “I don’t need your help.”

Sylvain opens his mouth to answer but stops when the barista comes by their table. “Felix,” he says, smiling kindly. “I’ve brought you a refill, yeah?” He drops a take-out cup to the table. “Just let me know if you want more.”

Felix nods, his lips quirking the slightest bit. The boy has always been nice to him and unfussy. “Thank you,” says Felix, genuinely.

The barista leaves and as Felix reaches for the cup, Sylvain raises his eyebrows. Felix’s mood immediately sours. “What?” snaps Felix acerbically.

Sylvain points to the cardboard sleeve around the cup. Felix turns it around to find the barista’s name and number written in curling script. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Felix. But, at least the barista has the decency not to accost him publicly. Felix rubs at his forehead.

“Say that I take you up on your offer,” starts Felix, already wanting to pull them back, “what are you expecting in return?”

“Nothing,” says Sylvain. Felix meets his eyes, narrowing his gaze as he watches him carefully. “Honestly,” continues Sylvain under the scrutiny. “I also like to study in peace, but I don’t like to sit at tables alone. I work better when there’s someone else there, even if it’s not to talk.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” says Felix.

“So is every person on this campus thirsting after your mangy ass. It’s a mystery to me.” Sylvain bites back just as hard as Felix, it seems. Felix respects that, if only slightly.

“Fine,” says Felix. “But only because I’ve got tests coming up and I’m tired of being bothered.”

“It’s a deal then,” says Sylvain. “We study and pretend to be dating, reaping the benefits of a quiet and quaint coffee shop.”

“You’ll have to be convincing,” says Felix.

“So far, it’s worked.”

Sylvain holds his hand out to shake on the deal and Felix looks at it warily. Then, with a resigned sigh, he takes it. Sylvain’s hand is wide and warm, and it makes Felix want to pull away. He hates closeness and doesn’t do well with physical contact. When they part, Sylvain smiles and then finally drops his book bag from his shoulders, settling in.

Felix hopes to the Goddess above that he’s not making a mistake.

Felix wants to hate Sylvain on mere principle, but they fall into an easy companionship. Felix hates it, hates that he doesn’t dislike Sylvain. But, Felix doesn’t quite like him either, and it’s the last thread of hope that he hangs on to.

A week into the charade, Felix is still stunned by the fact that Sylvain actually studies. He expects Sylvain to joke or flirt incessantly. He hasn’t; Sylvain’s quiet when they sit at their table in the corner of the coffee shop, nose-deep in a math text.

Felix’s gaze narrows slightly when he reads the title. “You’re taking Calculus III?”

“No,” says Sylvain, eyes not leaving his book. He flips a page, looking bored. “It’s a prerequisite, so I’ve already taken it, but sometimes I have to revisit.”

“Already taken it?” Sylvain taps another textbook to the side and Felix’s eyes widened. “Ordinary and Partial Differential Mathematics?” Felix can not for the life of him, think of a degree that would require a course like this.

Sylvain hums. “Yeah, it’s my required math for this semester.”

“For a jockstrap like yourself?” The nickname has stuck and so far, Sylvain hasn’t stopped Felix from using it.

Finally, Sylvain looks up, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I like math,” he says simply, “and I’m good at it. It’s an easy course for me.”

Felix isn’t sure what’s easy about math that he doesn’t even grasp the purpose of, but Sylvain’s only proven himself to be a weird man at his core. Sylvain looks at Felix’s book in return.

“Statistics,” says Sylvain. Felix has a distinct impression that he’s not remotely impressed.

“A requirement,” says Felix. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t take math at all. But it’s part of a Business degree.”

“Business.” Sylvain snorts. “What a boring degree. Aren’t you here for fencing?”

“On a fencing scholarship, yes. There’s no future in a sport, though.” Felix narrows his eyes at him. “Something that you should probably learn.”

Sylvain’s got the build of a footballer, though, so Felix knows that he’s likely on that track. But, Sylvain doesn’t really talk about himself much, let alone his schooling. He has a tendency to watch people carefully with a gaze that’s far too knowing.

Felix never likes that look, like Sylvain’s mind is far away and thinking. A thinking Sylvain is likely a dangerous Sylvain. It’s always the ones you least suspect. Glenn would have been best friends with this dolt.

“What?” says Felix, annoyed.

“Nothing,” says Sylvain, turning back to his textbook.

Felix frowns but doesn’t push to ask more.

As the weeks pass, things shift from a tentative, peaceful study, into an actual friendship. Felix wants to hate it; a large part of him wants to loathe it because he doesn’t like people, nor does he like it when people admire him in return.

But, Felix has learned in their brief time together that it’s not all bad. Not every person who is friendly with you wants something in return. Being a Fraldarius has severely skewed the way that he views the general public, but Sylvain seems to have no idea what his roots are, thank the Goddess.

It’s led to a low-key relationship, full of quiet jokes and genuine care. Felix grudgingly accepts it.

Like always, Felix finds Sylvain holding their table in the corner, a cup of coffee already ordered and waiting for him. Bernadetta’s handmade mugs might be odd and a little bizarre, but they serve drinks all the same, even if it loses its heat more quickly.

Sylvain once berated him for his wasteful use of to-go cups and Felix relented without much of a fight. Much to his irritation.

“One large red-eye, black as your soul,” says Sylvain, pushing the cup towards Felix. “I think he threw in an extra shot this time.”

Felix grunts, noncommittally, drops his bag to the ground and slumps into his chair. The mug is hot to the touch, so it must be fresh, and Felix leans over to inhale deeply. Sylvain makes a gagging sound which causes Felix to glare at him.

“No judgment,” says Sylvain. Then he pauses. “Actually, a lot of judgment because only stone-cold dicks can drink that dredge--”

“Go back to the field,” snaps Felix, before taking a sip. It’s dark and bitter as it burns through his veins. Perfection, really. Sylvain just has bad taste.

“Always with the jock references,” says Sylvain. “At least you haven’t called me jockstrap yet.”

“Apt name for someone like yourself.”

Sylvian blinks. “What does that even mean?”

Felix huffs. “An athlete, you dolt.” He takes another sip. “You make fun of my sport enough that it's only appropriate that I do the same.”

Sylvain is quiet for a long moment and then he bursts out laughing. “Wait, wait,” he starts. “You think I’m an athlete? Why?”

“You're built like a footballer,” says Felix. “Infuriatingly tall and broad.”

“Not to say that jocks are dumb, or anything, but with my courseload what makes you think that I even have time to think about playing a sport?”

Felix thinks for a long moment, coming to realize that even with their burgeoning friendship, he knows next to nothing about Sylvain. He’s easy to get along with, they’ve fallen into an easy routine and Felix even finds that studying flies by with little to no thought by his side. Something about Sylvain’s quiet presence in the coffee shop makes it easier to focus.

Still.

“Wait, you don’t?” asks Felix. “Why didn’t you ever say--”

“I thought that you were just insulting me, I didn’t think that you actually thought that I--” Sylvain stops, laughing again. “I’m sorry, this is hilarious. It shows just how bad you are with people. Pure comedic gold.”

“You said you were on scholarship!”

At that, Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, an academic one. Astronomy and Astrophysics.”

“Astrophysics?” blurts Felix incredulously.

In retrospect, it’s painfully obvious, he thinks. Suddenly, the textbooks of differential calculus and other various maths and sciences he can’t pronounce make a hell of a lot more sense. He reaches out, lifting the book that Sylvain’s currently working from, eyeballing the title.

“Steller, Galactic and Extragalactic Astronomy,” Felix reads. Then he moves to the next. “Statistical Quantum Mechanics.” Felix meets Sylvain’s sheepish gaze. “You aren’t joking, are you?”

“I’ve wanted to understand the planets ever since I saw Star Trek as a kid--”

“Are you really basing your degree on a television show that you watched growing up? One that isn’t even that good?”

Sylvain’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, you did not just disrespect the best television show to ever have been created.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” says Felix. “I have an essay for Business Statistics, and it’s going to be hard enough to focus knowing that you’re doing experimental math over there.”

“Theoretical math,” says Sylvain, coyly correcting him.

“Whatever,” hisses Felix. “Honestly, being a footballer would be less annoying.”

Sylvain frowns slightly. “Than being smart?”

“What?” Felix scowls. “No, that isn’t what I meant. I don’t give a rat’s ass how smart you are, but really, Sylvain-- Star Trek?”

Sylvain lets out a long breath and Felix realizes that he must be used to being judged. Sylvain doesn’t have the typical look of a scientist when you think about it. He’s handsome and well built, looking like he spends more time on a beach than a mechanics lab.

Felix has the decency to be at least a little bit embarrassed for assuming, not that he’d publicly admit to it.

“Look, just go back to your book,” says Felix. “I’ll go back to mine. And if I have any math questions, I’m going to expect your help.”

At that, Sylvain lets out a little chuckle, different from his usual boisterous laugh. It takes Felix a moment to realize that it’s a genuine moment from Sylvain, one where he’s let down all those walls he’s carefully put up.

It seems that he’s even more guarded than Felix is, something of mild interest. If Felix took an interest in things. He doesn’t, he thinks, but it’s more like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Alright,” says Sylvain. “But I don’t know how much help I’ll be. Simple math confuses me more than this does.”

What a ridiculous thing to say, but it’s not as annoying as the way that Felix’s mouth twitches into a near smile.

In the aftermath of Felix’s assumed snafu, Sylvain makes irritating strides to get to know Felix better. Irritating, because Felix has come to learn that he likes spending time with the genius of a chump, be it lunches between classes, or dinner after their study session. A variety of low-commitment activities that are usually full of small talk that Felix is angered he doesn’t hate.

“Just to be more convincing,” said Sylvain, doing most of the talking like always. Felix was inclined to agree, considering that Annette told him that Sylvain wasn’t his type and the idea of the two of them together seemed frankly, odd.

“I don’t get what the issue is,” says Annette, one day that seems like eons after Felix struck his deal with Sylvain. It’s past winter holiday and creeping into the spring, warm enough to catch a snack at the crepe stand after Annette’s yoga class. “Are you bothered that you like to spend time with him?”

“No, that’s not--” Felix pauses. “I’m not good at making friends.”

“We’re friends,” says Annette, shoving a mouthful of crepe into her mouth.

Felix wants to remind her that they met after she asked him to dinner, and it was the one time he’d said yes. It lasted about thirty minutes before they both decided dinner was a bust and went bowling instead. Annette kicked his ass, looked pretty while doing it and he’d felt nothing in return.

Instead, he says, “You're persistent.” It’s half-hearted and he doesn’t really mean it, but Annette’s cheeks puff up anyway.

“Oh, Felix! You’re evil,” huffs Annette, but she never stays mad at him for long, turning her attention back to her food.

“Sylvain is… different,” says Felix, as they sit down on a bench.

Annette nods sagely. “I mean, yeah, isn’t that why you like him?”

“He’s sufferable.”

“I mean, I’ll admit, he’s an odd choice and definitely not your type but--”

“Wait, Annette,” says Felix. “Do you think that I actually like him? As in romantically?”

She blinks at him, confused. “I mean, don’t you?” asks Annette around a mouthful of food. She’s never been very ladylike, but it’s a breath of fresh air at the end of all things. Normally it would endear Felix. But.

“ What?” snaps Felix, eyes immediately narrowing. “Of course I don’t, this entire thing has been a ruse to get people to leave me alone.”

Annette chews at her food thoughtfully for a second and then says, “But you enjoy spending time with him.”

“I’ve made that apparent,” says Felix. “It vexes me.”

“You’ve admired how smart he is.”

“Infuriatingly so, but it’s useful when we study.” Felix pauses. “Don’t tell him that I said that.”

“You spend your free time with him,” says Annette, gesturing at Felix with her crepe. “This is the first time I’ve seen you face-to-face in like a month, but you go out of your way to see him every day.”

At that, Felix starts, mouth snapping shut as he thinks. Annette’s right, he does go out of his way to spend time with Sylvain. And if they can’t meet properly, it’s texting. Sylvain’s usually the one to greet him in the morning with a corny horoscope that neither of them believes, but still laugh about. And Felix is usually the one to say goodnight, even if it isn’t warranted.

It feels wrong if they don’t share words at least once a day.

“Annette,” says Felix.

“Hm?” hums Annette, cheeks bulging around the last bite of her crepe.

“Am I in love with him?” It’s rhetorical, of course, and dreadful in tone, but Annette answers anyway.

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“No,” says Felix, mouth parted in awe as though the heavens had just been explained to him. Or, Sylvain explained theoretical warp theory and Felix finally understood it. That’ll never happen, but--

“I love him.” The words come easier than he expects and they fill him with unexpected warmth. He wants more of it. He’s also afraid of it, but if there’s anything that Felix is good at, it’s striking something head-on with force.

He hasn’t lost a fencing match in nearly three years.

Annette, blessedly, is quiet for once, just watching him process his feelings. And when he’s done, when Felix comes to his conclusion, she asks, “Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” says Felix, and it’s honest and true, and strangely welcome. He hasn’t felt this good in years. Certainly not since Glenn passed.

“Good,” says Annette, “Now go kiss him.”

Felix’s answer is dumping the rest of his crepe directly into her lap, the loss of his snack well justified.

Because Felix’s life is apparently a romantic comedy, he expects things between him and Sylvain to become awkward.

It doesn't. In fact, everything is disgustingly normal. They keep their study dates, emphasis on the study part. Sylvain still greets him with his coffee order, and on the few occasions that Felix beats him to the shop, he greets Sylvain with his ridiculous white mocha, extra whip.

There are a few differences, Felix supposes.

When Sylvain leans over to help with a math problem, Felix turns to him. They meet eyes more often than not. Felix willingly covers Sylvain’s dinner, which raises an eyebrow because he’s notoriously stingy.

But, if Felix seems off, Sylvain never mentions it or broaches the topic. It’s aggravating, how easy it is to just keep to the routine. And it’s not that Felix doesn’t want more; ever since his talk with Annette, he finds himself entertaining the idea further.

He’s done a lot of thinking. Sylvain’s handsome, there isn’t a doubt about it, but that’s not what pulls Felix to him. Sylvain’s smart as a whip and doesn’t mince his words. And yes, he puts walls up and dances about things personal, but Felix does the same.

And lately, Sylvain’s started to pull those walls down, comfortable in Felix’s presence.

No one’s ever comfortable around him and Felix is struck by how much it means. Feelings are hard and love is even worse. Felix isn’t quite sure that it’s worth it.

But, he hasn’t written the idea entirely off.

“Felix?”

Felix blinks. “I, er--”

Sylvain’s mouth tugs slightly downward at one side. Concerned. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“Fencing,” blurts Felix. “The big tourney coming up.”

“You mean the one two weeks ago?”

Okay, so, Felix has been more distracted than he cares to admit. It’s all Sylvain’s fault. “Sylvain, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. School is draining. The usual.”

“Tired,” says Sylvain, unconvinced. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed and watching Felix carefully. Curse Sylvain’s perceptiveness and his ability to look right through people.

“Look, Sylvain--”

“Felix Fraldarius,” drawls another voice. They both turn to find a familiar face framed by bleach blonde hair and twirling a lock around her fingers. There’s the snap of gum in her mouth as she chews open-mouthed and unflattering.

Immediately, Sylvain is on the defensive. “Hey--”

“Hold it, golden boy,” says the girl, “I know you aren’t really dating. Heard it one day after you grabbed a bite to eat.”

Sylvain’s face darkens. “Have you been following us?”

The girl makes a face at the accusation. “Ugh, as if. It was a coincidence, I swear, but what a wonderful one. Means that I’ve got a chance.”

Felix immediately bites back, hackles raised. “I already had little interest, but as of right now, there’s not even a remote possibility of you having a chance.”

“Is it really so hard to just give it a go? You might even like me.” She bats her eyes in a pathetic attempt to appeal to him, but all Felix can think of his tanned skin dotted with freckles and sun-kissed auburn hair.

“Doubtful,” says Felix, dryly.

It takes only a second for her features to change dramatically, from coy and shy to contemptuous and sneering. “I wonder why I even bothered,” says the girl, before nodding to Sylvain. “Clearly your taste isn’t as good as I would have thought. Haven’t you heard the rumors about him?”

Yes, ad nauseum. From friends, the general public, even Sylvain himself. His problems with women and dating, and commitment issues. His brother and father, and the pressure of family legacy. At first, from those around them who’d heard of their dating, who’d seen them hanging out. People who felt it their duty to warn Felix.

And eventually, Sylvain himself who’s recently opened up about the heavy baggage that he carries around, shouldering it without much of a complaint. If anything, Sylvain’s the one looking out for others.

So yes, Sylvain doesn’t have a stellar reputation, but there’s a lot more to a person than what’s seen on the surface. A lesson that Felix has spent the last half-year learning quite unwillingly.

“Do you think yourself superior?” asks Felix, eyes narrowing at her. “You have no concept of personal space, nor do you seem to comprehend the words ‘no’ and ‘not interested’. Sylvain could murder someone in cold blood and still have twice the worth that you hold.”

“It’s a wonder, why you would even consider him,” scoffs the girl.

“Obviously it’s because I love him and despite the terrible things the lot of you gossip about, he makes me perfectly happy.”

The table goes quiet, both the girl and Sylvain staring at him. Likely, for different reasons. Felix didn’t mean to say it so plainly, but he’s never been good at pulling his punches, even when it comes to verbal lashings.

Besides, she brought it upon herself.

And against all odds, Felix feels wholly and utterly satisfied, not a moment of regret at his confession. He takes a sip of his coffee, fingers curled around his mug tenderly, meeting her gaze head-on.

“You should leave,” says Sylvain, before the girl can even respond. She opens her mouth to retort, but stops when Sylvain smiles at her. Only it isn’t a smile, it’s a nasty-looking smirk, more like a wolf that’s about to pounce its prey.

Wisely, she backs off, huffing in annoyance as she turns and leaves.

And then there are two, sitting at a table in silence. Felix is oddly comfortable, sipping at his drink while Sylvain’s mouth opens and closes. Thinking about what he’s going to say. Felix supposes that he’s opened the inevitable can of worms.

“So,” starts Sylvain, “correct me if I’m wrong, but when you said that you love me, it sounded pretty genuine.”

Felix scoffs, he can’t help it. “I always mean the things that I say.”

He expects Sylvain to bolt, to run away, to want nothing to do with this. Instead, Sylvain smiles, small and real, regarding Felix with a kind of warmth that immediately sets him on high alert.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asks Felix, testily. But Sylvain only chuckles, soft at first and then louder. “Really Sylvain? You’re laughing? Right now?”

“Sorry,” says Sylvain, “It’s not actually funny-- okay, that’s a lie, it’s hilarious.”

Felix frowns, sneering defensively. “Is the idea of me loving someone, least of all you, so entertaining?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” demands Felix, exasperated. Sylvain’s not one to beat around the bush, but he can’t seem to find his words, too busy being amused by Felix’s feelings, to his utter embarrassment.

“It’s because I love you too.”

Felix’s mouth falls open because that’s the last thing he expects Sylvain to say. He doesn’t answer, gaping openly at Sylvain, floundering for an explanation. Eventually, Sylvain finds himself, clearing his throat slightly.

Sylvain looks to Felix’s face and then his gaze drops to where his hand rests on the table. Considering. Felix really hopes that he’s not planning on taking it, but Sylvain does, fingers tugging at his palm gently.

Felix lets it happen, settling on the explanation that he’s just not like himself at the moment.

“Felix,” says Sylvain, this time quieter and more serious. He thumbs at Felix’s knuckles, the touch soft and hesitant. “I’ll admit, I’m a little bit relieved.”

“I’m annoyed,” says Felix. “I’ve been annoyed since the moment I realized it because all I’ve been able to do is think of you. It’s infuriating in the worst of ways.”

There’s a moment that passes as they watch each other, Sylvain’s hand practically burning around Felix’s. And then, Sylvain says, “Felix, can I kiss you?”

Yes, Felix thinks. It’s such a foreign feeling that he nearly pulls away but he doesn’t. He’s determined to indulge. It’s about time he’s enjoyed something in his life.

So, what he says instead is, “If you must,” the words clipped but his usual crustiness softer than normal. It makes Sylvain smile at him again, looking at Felix like he can see right through him.

Sylvain leans forward smoothly, cupping Felix’s jaw in his other hand. He’s still looking at him, like he’s some sort of treasure, paused right before Felix’s mouth. And that makes Felix impatient.

Felix is the one to close the distance, sealing their lips together like a promise. Sylvain’s mouth is soft under his, but he responds eagerly, his han moving to the back of his neck. Felix has never really put stock into the whole sparks flew and things were felt nonsense. Turns out that he’d been wrong and that kissing is kind of everything. All he can think of is Sylvain’s presence and the solid weight of him as he leans in.

Sylvain licks into the kiss, but only just barely, coaxing a tad more than just a mild response from Felix. And Felix can feel his skin burning bright red with strain, or embarrassment, or maybe just the idea that they’re doing this in public.

He doesn’t care, Felix wants more, fingers curling into Sylvain’s shirt and tugging slightly.

Eventually, they part because breathing is necessary and even Felix requires air. Regrettably. He wants to go back in, to kiss Sylvain again, just one more time before he gains his senses back and thinks better of it.

But first.

“You know, I’ll kill you if you hurt me,” says Felix, fingers tightening their grip around Sylvain’s shirt.

Sylvain laughs, leaning close to Felix's ear and pressing a soft kiss there. “I know. But that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fanfiction #fire emblem three houses fanfiction #felix x sylvain #sylvix #sylvain/felix #sylvain jose gautier #felix hugo fraldarius

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twisted-fun-funny-stories · 4 years

Note

Reaction of dormitory leaders with a shy person (gender neutral). How would they react? Who would like it more? What would you like less? Etc. Headcanon, please! ❤️

Hey there! So for those that were expecting headcanons yesterday, my bad, I wrote them but some of them I forgot to save and I lost some parts of it and/or I forgot to post them. But now you guys will be getting your headcanons. For this one, this will be a two parter because doing all the dormleaders in one post is a bit too much, hope you are fine with that!

Riddle Roseheart

Riddle would probably be a bit curious about you

He notices you are not as talkative as the other students nor as social as them

The first time he noticed you was when you were sitting alone at lunch, reading a book or listening to music

He approached you, he was going to ask you what year you are in and why do you seem like you are always by yourself because he was a little concerned about you

When he approached you, you were scared, you initially thought you got in trouble as you heard of many rumors surrounding him and how he punishes students that disobey his rules

He kinda freaked out when you hid your face from him using your book or hands or you kept averting your eyes away from him

You ask if you caused any trouble, but it was too quiet for him to hear so he gave you a confused look

It took some time for him to realize that he probably scared you, in which he introduced himself and explained that he is just curious about your situation

You seemed to be warm up to him after you calmed down and quietly explained that you did not have many friends because you were terribly shy and have a hard time talking to people

As a dorm leader, he feels bad that the reason that you are alone is because you are too shy to talk to people

After classes, he heads to your class and grabs you by the hand as he leads you to his dorm

“As a dorm leader, I can’t have a student be left alone. I am going to introduce to some of my colleagues.”

He introduces to Ace, Deuce, Trey, and Carter who immediately warmed up to you

Carter constantly asking you for your phone number or social media

Ace and Deuce asking your hobbies and interests

While Trey tries his best to calm everyone down as he can see you being uncomfortable due to the unusual amount of attention you were getting

When you look over at Riddle, he smiled at you and in response you smiled back, as a way to thank him for introducing his friends to you

In the future he invites you to Unbirthday parties, making sure that you are comfortable and also eating the treats Trey made

You stopped being scared of him because you know that he cares for the students

Leona Kingscholar

Once in a while, he sees you in the greenhouse, reading a book or looking at the plants

At first, he didn’t really care, maybe you were the loner type and didn’t want to be bother

But all of the sudden, you accidentally bumped into him when you were on your way out of the greenhouse

You fell back as you weren’t aware that you bumped into someone until you look up to see Leona with a slightly angry look on his face

Leona let out a small growl but then he noticed how scared you were, shaking and slightly tearing up

At first, he thought how weak you seemed to be (like the herbivore you are) but then he heard your quiet apologies

At the point, he saw no point in getting angry at you, so he just gave you a small warning

Something like “Watch yourself next time” or “I won’t go easy on you next time you do something like that”

But when he saw that you were still apologizing to him, he started to feel a little bad that he scared you to that point

To get your attention and to snap out of your state, he patted your head which snapped out of your state and looked up to him

*sighs* “Alright, I might’ve taken too far. I didn’t think I would scare you like that. Take it easy okay?” tsundere side coming out

He decided that he’ll let you hang out with him this one time, probably because you come off as weak and to make up for scaring you

When he asked why you always spend your free time at the greenhouse, you state that you are too shy so you don’t make that many friends

So then he decided that he would hang out with you whenever he got free time in which Ruggie gets to know you because he always have to force Leona to go to class or else he would have to repeat a year again

It gotten to a point where Ruggie always makes a comment about you babysitting Leona in his stead

As you spend more time with him, he didn’t seem to hate being around you

Sometimes you’ll be inspecting the plants while he sleeps nearby, other times you lend him your shoulder as you are reading your book

But he doesn’t tell you that he wants to hang out with, he just states that he just like taking a nap at the greenhouse, which wasn’t a full lie, but he would be lying and he doesn’t explain why he always comes to the greenhouse when you “happen” to be there

If he sees you feeling uncomfortable because there are too many people around or you couldn’t speak up, he just scoops you up and takes you to the greenhouse because you said that you feel comfortable being at the greenhouse

Azul Ashengrotto

You were a regular customer at the Mostro Lounge

You liked the environment, everything from the aquatic theme to the menu items they have

Your usual was (favorite food) with some (favorite drink)

You were first noticed by Azul when he noticed that you always come to the Mostro Lounge alone

Normally it’s a group of people that go to the Mostro Lounge, but you always come by yourself

He asked Jade and Floyd their opinions about you and they say that you don’t talk much and would take the seats near the tea bar

One day he decided to talk to you, he was curious about what type of person you are as you seem to be this mysterious figure that caught his attention

But he didn’t expect you to freak out when he got your attention

And by freaking out, I mean almost falling out of your seat

He quickly apologizes for scaring you and bothering you and introduces himself to him

“I apologize for scaring you, I did not mean to startle you. I am Azul Ashengretto and what is your name?”

After you calm yourself down, you introduce yourself to him and you explain that you do not have friends because you are usually too shy to speak to strangers

Azul takes note of this and makes it a point to talk to you more when he gets a chance because it would be bad if his loyal customer were to leave because you get too shy

Because he’s aware of the rush hours at his café, which are the times that there are a ton of students around

As he talks to you more, he starts to see the good qualities of you

He likes how you are not as loud as the other students and you seem to be a bit more observant than them

As you spend more time with him, you realize that he was someone that you wouldn’t mind spending time with

You started staying longer even if you have to stay there during rush hours or after the Mostro Lounge is getting ready to close

You also started to get used to Jade and Floyd too because of Azul, although you are still nervous around Floyd because he’s a bit unpredictable

When Azul or the Leech twins notice you being nervous outside of the café, they usually come up to you and try to distract you with a conversation while they guide you to the Mostro Lounge until you calm yourself down

Azul likes to recommend you books or puzzles while Jade likes your input regarding food and drinks

Floyd, well he likes to give you a few scares because he likes to see you jump in fear when he scares you

In which Azul scolds him for doing that (but doesn’t admit that your reaction was a little funny and kinda cute) and Jade just chuckling

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #azul ashengrotto #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #shy reader

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kylo-hen · 4 years

Text

Super bloom

A/N: A little something I wrote yesterday. Definitely more me projecting all my sadness into some fluff. Don’t know if this is one-shot or what, so let me know if you want more!!

Kylo Ren x Reader (Intergalactic soulmate AU)

Summary: People come from far and wide to visit the sacred Cherry Blossom Grove, but also to get a chance at finding their soulmate. What happens when Kylo Ren finds his soulmate in the most unlikely of planets in the outer rim?

Warnings: None, just fluff. It’s a soulmate AU so, just... that lol.

There is a story the Elders tell, that every bloom of the cherry blossom represents a new pair of soulmates connected in the galaxy. These tales have been sacred to my people for centuries and thousands of visitors come to our planet, Katto, just to see the sacred blossom grove in the capitol. They come to see the spectacle, to have their hand at possibly finding love.

No different than the other seasons of my life, the hoards of people came to see them bloom as soon as the snow that blanketed the city receded with warmth. Lovers flooded the streets to celebrate, groups put on elaborate dances and performances to celebrate the magic we held in the city, and the elders welcomed the visitors with open arms in hopes to enrich them with our lore. Windows opened, and wherever you walked in the city, sounds of people singing mixed with people making love. It was freeing, as long as you had someone to share it with.

Born to the town’s only book keep and his strong-willed wife who spent her days making dresses, I was their third daughter. Father always said he prayed for a son, and instead he received his suns, and that with every step his family lights his path and his heart. He’s very sentimental, which is shared in his first-born daughter and my eldest sister, Sennica.

Only two years after Sennica was born, my parents had Anya, their second daughter, and new joy. They had planned on stopping then, with two perfect girls they had no want for more. But, my father, always the determined man that he is, decided that if they had another, he knew it would be a boy. He was wrong. Three years after Anya, I was born to the surprise of my father, his third daughter. There had been much celebration because I had been born the day of the bloom, all the elders came to visit and bless me with the hope and luck that I may find my soulmate. As I grew in the heart of the capital, surrounded by others who thanked the gods for their person, their light, I always wondered when mine would come.

As I grew up, I watched, I waited, and when I got old enough, I even dared to hope that the elder’s blessings for true fortune in the search for my love would come true. When Sennica found her person, Petrik a boy from the outskirts of town who worked on a farm, I was only fourteen. I watched the way they loved; how complete they were. The two married almost immediately, starting a family only a year later on Petrik’s farm.

From that moment forward there was a shift in Anya. Gone were the days she spent in the library with father and I, even at seventeen, she was determined to have the joy we saw in Sennica. Then it was only me in the dusty dank shelves of the books that father was tasked with looking after. I spent my days learning and reading of far off places, dreaming of one day escaping the planet centered around love. I wanted to love, yes, but I want an adventure more.

This blooming season was no different than the ones before, the ships stormed the atmosphere, taking refuge outside the city limits. They carried everyone from curious foreigners who seek the chance to find love, to political leaders invited by the elders as a hope they will remain at peace with our small planet. As a young child my father would tell us stories about the great Jedi wars, as he called them, and the magical force that connected everything. He gave me books to read describing the mystical energy, and its wielders. Secretly I prayed at our modest temple to be one of the great force wielding Jedi masters, but as I grew there were no such qualities.

Each year the political guests changed as the far-off wars and alliances changed, but every year father took them to the library we kept and showed them the beautiful knowledge and records we had stored there. Without fail, every single year I sat in a dusty corner of the library waiting for something to happen, for these old men to say something, to do something, and every year they would glance over me as if I were part of the building itself.

The great ships could be seen landing outside the city, and the town was buzzing everywhere. The second I stepped foot onto the cobbled streets I could hear the sounds of the festivals beginning. There were street players already bustling a tune and already a crowd began to form to dance. The distant roar of the grand ships only mixed with the delighted music to form anticipation in my stomach. My eyes, drawn to the crowd of people dancing, caught the sight of a new ship overhead, it was much smaller, a personal ship it seemed. I passively wondered who the ship was brought to my home.

As the nearby song ended, I began the short trek to the library my father worked at. The elders would be by soon with the dignitaries’ tour of the sights, and I wanted to get comfortable before they arrived. This year my father seemed much tenser, when I asked, he only murmured something about a ‘regime change’ and suggested I stay home this year. I only promised him I would stay farther on the shelves than normal.

As I made my way through the crowd, I saw two more of those bizarre ships fly overhead. I looked around to see if anyone else even noticed and no one else seemed to bat an eye. Maybe It was a new model? I told myself for reassurance, but as I said it a pit began to form in my stomach. I shoved the feeling down as far as I could and continued along.

Once in the library, I found my father doing some last-minute sweeps of the area to assure that it was not only safe but clean for the elders and guests. When he saw me a look of irritation and relief flashed over his features.

“I thought we agreed you were staying home this year?” He did not sound impressed with either my choice of fashion or my overall appearance, probably both.

“I agreed I would stay away, but never once did I say how far father,” he sighed and turned to properly greet me, “I’m getting too clever for you now.” I beamed, proud of my wit.

“You’re getting too clever for your own good,” he looked me over to see what I was wearing, “would it have killed you to wear a nice dress, the one your mother made specifically for you?” His chastisement only rolled off my skin like water. This dress was fine for last years guests, why would this be different?

“I’ll sit in the back behind most of the shelves, I promise.” He only sighed again and looked over my shoulders in worry, “I just want to see them before the festival begins.” I explained, he looked at me once again and tucked a small bit of hair behind my ear.

“I know my little bud, I know.” His term of endearment resonated in my chest filling it with a soft comforting glow. He leaned in to kiss my forehead before sending me to the back of the room. “Now, I don’t want you to come out unless you are called upon.” He commanded me, in hopes that for once I would listen. And with my father’s command, I went to the farthest, dustiest part of the library and waited.

By the time I heard any commotion it had been close to an hour, not that I had any real way to tell how much time had passed except for a small window nearby that overlooked the streets. I heard the grand doors open, and voices echoing along the halls. I could recognize the tone of an older Elder, Elder Norfin, she always jumped at the chance to show off our records no matter how old she was. Her soft lilt was contrasted by a robotic intoned voice that boomed without recognition. That must have been the new guest of honor.

Suddenly, my curiosity could no longer be quelled. I imagine if I could just peak from behind a shelf, they would be none the wiser. Even if they did know, what was the harm in looking? I stood from the corner I had sheltered myself in and slowly made my way towards the center aisle overlooking the majority of the library. I knew if I shimmied along this shelf there was a low chance of anyone catching me, and so I slowly made my way towards the voices echoing from below.

Once I got close enough to see the tail end of the party touring the records, I noticed they were very different than the usual storm troopers that usually accompanied the guest. Two people were guarding the door in dark intricate black robes. One held a long metal staff that looked like an ax I had seen on Petrik’s farm when we visited last year. The other held a long blade that looked like it curved at the tip. Both were wearing masks that could have been mutations of a stormtrooper, but still dark and much more intimidating.

I moved even farther towards the mouth of the shelf to see if I could get a better look at the person that required such intimidating guards. As I inched forward, rounding the corner to see who It was I felt it. There was a pounding in my chest that pulled me forward. An ache that had been described to me in great detail growing up. The feeling the gods give you when you’re about to meet your soulmate.

I froze, I wasn’t sure what I should do. How do you explain to your soulmate that you’ve been attempting to eavesdrop on their official political business? How could you face them when you’ve been acting like a child?

Amid my internal panic, I failed to realize the conversation had sharply ceased below me.

I heard the robotic drawl begin again, despite the fact I could not see them, “Who else is here?” He all but demanded.

“M-my daughter, Supreme Leader, is upstairs,” My blood ran cold as I listened to my father’s nerves. He was a collected man by trade and to hear his obvious unsettlement made me wish I had listened to him. “She’s still very young sir, she cannot even hear us from where I left her.” My father tried to reassure the man standing intimidatingly before him. I heard the shuffling of footsteps and the pounding ache in my chest increased.

“Bring her to me.” He said simply, whether it was to my father or the guards was a mystery to me. The idea of the guards coming near me was enough to push me to reveal myself, in hopes he would be kind once I explained I meant no harm.

The only problem is, once I popped up from where I was crouched between the safe shelves of stories that couldn’t hurt me, I zeroed in on the person who I knew I was meant to find. The world around me ceased to exist, there was movement, voices, a commotion but as soon as the masked figure faced me there was nothing but the pounding of my heart in time with his. His squared shoulders seemed sturdy, but they wavered in my gaze and the curiosity, oh the curiosity, of what lay under the mask that kept me from the man who held my fate in his gloved hands.

The only thing that broke me from my gaze was the feeling of a harsh hand grabbing my arm, surely to leave bruises by nightfall. I looked up and one of the guards from the door, the one with the ax-like blade was ushering me down the steps.

“Who are you?” The man, the Supreme Leader, asked once I was ushered in front of him.

“(Y/N),” I murmured, my voice sounding small and distant than what I expected in my head. He tilted his head in his mask, every micro-movement becoming clear to me now. “My father is the bookkeeper,” I said without breaking my gaze, I don’t think I could if I wanted.

“(Y/N),” he murmured, still disguised with the robotic lilt, “How old are you?” He seemed to expect me younger from my father’s description of me, I felt my heart bloom and the blood in my veins all but slowed.

“I will be twenty-three tomorrow, sir.” I finally broke my gaze by bowing my head in respect, and my body physically deflated without that connection.

He hummed and appraised me further, “Ap’Lek, let her go.” He commanded and his guard complied immediately. The supreme leader stepped forward; he lifted my chin affectionately lifting my gaze to his. Despite his helmet, I felt his eyes pierce mine, I could feel the world around me dissolve. “We’ll have to celebrate your birthday, join us in the grove.” He asked, well demanded, still guiding my chin to meet his gaze. I nodded shyly, and as soon as the moment passes there are cries of objection.

“I beg your pardon sir,” My father began, “She doesn’t need to impose you-“ He began, only to be cut off by another elder, Elder Fishalm.

“That’s highly unnecessary, and not to mention against the protocol for-“ before he could finish the supreme leader whipped around in anger, but before he could do anything the other elder stepped forward to diffuse the situation.

“Elder Fishalm, please,” She began softly, her voice lowering the tension in the room, “There are higher powers at play now.” Her voice alluding to the unspoken connection between us. “If the supreme leader wishes to bring her, the gods have already brought them together, there is little for them to be upset about.” She explained looking fondly over the two of us.

“If there are no further objections,” The supreme leader grits out sharply at the two men who dared challenge him, “let’s carry on.” His tone was commanding and dark but his hand grazed mine with a tenderness I had never experienced. When I looked up at him, he was already looking down at me, I felt the deepest butterflies in her chest. How was I going to make it out of this without making a fool of myself?

I accompanied the group through the rest of the tour, the supreme leader was sure to keep me by his side with a light guiding hand on the small of my back. I had kept my gaze mostly lowered to the ground out of respect not only for the Elder’s present but the supreme leader. He appraised me often, checking if was alright, which I always answered with a swift short nod.

The day didn’t become interesting until we made our way to exit the library, to go to the sacred grove. That’s when the guards took a formation around us to walk through the streets carefully. The walk there was filled with celebration in the streets. It was all so different from this side, from behind the guard I could barely see and the only thing keeping me steady and grounded was the large leather hand at the small of my back. He guided me with ease, poise, precision without ever making me feel anything less than comfortable. When I looked up at him, he was already gazing down at me.

There was a soft robotic chuckle in my ear, “Watch where you’re going little girl, what kind of soulmate would I be if I let you fall.” He murmured only loud enough for me to hear over the celebration. It was the first time I heard it out loud, he addressed me as a soulmate. Every bone in my body wanted to turn to jelly right then, and he must have felt that from me because he gave another sadistic chuckle.

There was nothing as strong as a soulmate connection, that’s what everyone I knew told me. There was nothing better than this bond formed, and given to you by the gods, by the force. I could only imagine what it would be like when we were alone. If he would still be as sturdy, if he was good looking or not, or if once we were alone It would be like the first time, I saw him.

These thoughts were only interrupted by our arrival at the temple entrance to the sacred grove. There was a big deal made as we entered the hexagonal format, there were monks lined on either side throwing petals at us in celebration and I could only think that this was our way of honor, not theirs. The man by my side stiffened, maybe in irritation, maybe in caution but either way the very act made me want to cease the existence of the very petals that could upset him.

Once the temple doors were closed behind us the energy immediately shifted. The remaining elders lined the far side of the room in a bowed stance. I had never seen them like that, they were the direct connections from our people to the god, they were the ones we looked to. To see them lay down their respect to the man at my side had my heart soar with pride. He must be a great man, I may not know much of him, but his adventures must be great.

“Leave us.” He commands the elders, who have now risen to hear his command, “I wish to enter the sacred grove with only my soulmate by my side.” He speaks evenly, commanding them with little effort and maximum efficiency.

The use of the word soulmate is not lost There is still a deep ache in my chest commanding me near him, and the sheer thought of even leaving his sight for a moment has my heart dropping through the planet’s floor. As the Elders exit, his guards take posts on either side of the grove’s entrance. He moves forward to the entrance, the light eclipsing his large form.

The shadowed figure eclipsed the entrance, and I couldn’t help but think I would live in that shadow for the rest of my life if he asked. He suddenly let out a laugh, I was startled, I was so entranced by his form that I had no clue what was happening around me. Had he said something?

“No, little one,” he reached a hand out for me to take, and without hesitation I grabbed it, still confused. He just hummed and lead me into the sacred space filled with the enormous old Cherry Blossoms that were already beginning to bloom.

There was a small creek that split the grotto in the center, he led me with expertise, despite the fact he had never traversed this space as I had many times in reverence of the gods.

Once we escaped the sun below one of the older, and larger, trees I could no longer hold my tongue.

“Who are you?” I blurted as he sat silently, his helmet still glinting from the sunlight that peaked through the trees, “You’re the supreme leader of what exactly?” I softened my tone and looked away embarrassed that my education lacked.

He reached for my hand softly and I looked down at him as he sat, relaxed, “Everything,” He started, “The supreme leader of the galaxy.” He was smug, teasing me for my sheltered learning.

“Do you have a name?” I kneeled to meet his gaze head-on, now that I was within reach, he traced my features slowly.

“Kylo Ren.” He answered evenly. It was robotic, electronic, rehearsed even. There was hurt there, I could sense it through all the armor he wore.

“May I call you Kylo?” I asked, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with a title he didn’t prefer.

“Please,” it came out as a whisper, which must have shocked him with tenderness. He immediately changed the subject, not to cause himself pain, “I heard tales of these trees granting people with their perfect match, a soulmate for all eternity, and I didn’t believe it.” He began speaking and all I wanted to do was curl into his words and make a home in them. His voice resonated in my chest like a cat curled up in the sun. “You are the most unbelievably perfect sight to see.” His compliment made a home in my heart, my soul.

“I am nothing in comparison to the reflection of my soul before me. I am not always the most graceful, I have been sheltered most of my life, and I have spent most of my time avoiding the traits that make me a good wife.” I explained bashfully, feeling an instant comfort to say what’s on my mind and bare my soul to this man, “I am not promising to be perfect, or reasonable even, but I cannot imagine giving you anything less than everything I can give.” I let my hands trace his helmet, cementing the image in my brain lest I ever part with him.

Suddenly his hands leave my waist, they reach up to his helmet and with a hiss he removes it.

Underneath lay the most beautiful face I have ever seen. The soulful eyes that bore back into mine show the nerves he has been hiding, there were freckles dashed upon every surface of his face. A scar split the right side of his face with a violence that made me want to kiss away every fear, every trepidation, or threat from his mind until he finds himself in complete bliss. His lips were pillowed together in a small pout and his brows furrowed, waiting for my response.

“I fear you have grossly exaggerated my beauty over your own,” I speak, earning a blush dancing across his cheeks, a shy laugh even graces his demeanor. “I don’t know what I have done to please the gods to have you, but I shall thank them every waking second for it,” I spoke without even realizing I was speaking.

“May I kiss you?” He asked quietly, returning his hands to my waist. I nodded fervently and he wasted no time, pushing his lips onto my own.

The moment our lips touched it felt like I was struck by lightning. My body coursed with an invisible power that rushed through every cell of my being and bursting them. He pulled me closer so my body was tucked flush against his, he felt so solid. His hands roamed my back as his mouth opened, beckoning mine to do the same. As our kiss deepened my hands found a home in his hair.

This continued until he detached his mouth from mine and moved to my neck. I suddenly became aware of how inexperienced I was in this area. He must have sensed my discomfort because he detached himself to check my well-being.

“Are you alright?” He asked, worried he had gone too far, “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

I smiled and leaned my head on his shoulder, hiding in embarrassment, “No! I, I just never…” I broke off not knowing what to say. “I’ve just always been waiting and now I don’t know what to do.” I murmured, and he wrapped around me.

“you don’t have to worry about that,” he comforted me, “We can do as much or as little as you’d like sweet girl.” He murmured the term of endearment and it set my body alight. Heat spread from my chest outwards to places I had never felt before.

“I like it when you call me that.” I admitted to him, as he got lost in my eyes, “I’ll be your sweet girl.” He smiled at that, excited about the idea. As we lay there, under one of the sacred trees, saying nothing and everything to one another I decided there was no way I could ever be apart from this man.

“What happens now?” I asked him and suddenly there is tension again. I kick myself for making him uncomfortable, I can’t imagine how long it’s been since this man was at peace and I have ruined it.

“There is a dinner, for the festival, I would like you to join me.” He spoke slowly, waiting for my objections that he expected.

“I would love to join you but,” He tenses fully and I am quick to reassure him, “I would need to change into something nicer.” I look down at my day dress that would be inappropriate to dine in.

“you could wear any dress you like; you will still be the most beautiful person in the room.” He compliments, looking into my eyes for emphasis. His deep brown eyes were filled to the brim with adoration.

“What will we do after, after the festival, when all of the dust settles,” I asked and he got a distant smile on his face.

“Come with me,” he turned to me, his eyes young and pleading like a young boy, “I’ll show you the galaxy, keep you by my side forever, you’ll never want for anything. Come with me?” His face was open, hesitant, he was scared. He’s clearly been hurt before, he wears his feelings so blatantly, it’s a wonder he doesn’t already have someone waiting for him. My heart beats out to his, my soul intertwined forever, and my body is for the taking. I was destined for this, for him.

“Yes.” I smiled, with no doubt creeping in from my mind, “I’d follow you anywhere.”

A/N: Please be sure to reblog/like/follow if you liked this! If you want more let me know! My inbox is open for any feedback or just general friendship lol. Thanks for reading!

#kylo ren x reader #fluff #superbloom #soft kylo #soulmate au #Kylo ren #series?#Very much me projecting onto a story lol #not sorry

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

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Rantarou Amami x Ultimate Writer - FLUFF

Request: Hi! Your writing is incredible ^^ I was wondering if you could write Rantaro with an Ultimate Essay Writer s/o, maybe comforting them when they're up late writing? I hope that's okay, and thank you :D

Hey! Sure I can do this! But, I wanna make it just the Ultimate Writer. I’m an english writing major myself IRL, and I have to write essays, non-fiction, emails, resumes, letters, instructional guides, graphic novels, fiction, poetry etc. so they will definitely have essay-writing skills anyway. Ultimate Writer just makes it easier. I hope you don’t mind :) - Admin Kokichi

"Nnnn!" You gritted your teeth in frustration, "NNNGGHH!" Your arm was stretched to its extent, reaching up with all your might. The shelf above was just out of reach. Your fingertips scraped against the spine of the thick brown book above you, but strain as you might, it wasn’t budging, firm and snug against the others on the shelf. "Gah!" You puffed in anger, clenching your fists. Why did the books you wanted from the basement library always have to be so high up? You needed this particular text as a reference for your next piece.

It was going to be a throwaway letter, a confession written to express your feelings then set them free by burning it later. It didn’t matter, really, what you wrote at this point. Anything to get your mind off of all of… this. In this killing game, your writing was the only thing that brought you comfort. You stayed up every night scrawling until your wrist cramped up. Your Monopad had a notes section to type in, but you much rather stick to the traditional ways. The lack of sleep and endless output of creative thought was starting to weigh on you, and now it looked like you weren’t even getting this damn book today, “Man, this blows…” You sighed deeply. "AH!" You jumped, startled when a large, ring-clad hand suddenly appeared in front of your face, bracelets jangling in your ear. Soon, you felt someone's broad chest against your back. The hand grabbed the book you wanted and brought it down. You turned around with your hand on your chest, still a little jumpy. "Oh, phew… Rantarou, it's just you."

"Yeah,” he chuckled gently, “here ya go Y/N." There stood your crush, the rich playboy with a heart of gold. You felt your cheeks go warm. He was often in the library, and you relished every moment you got to spend glancing over your shoulder at him while we has up to his usual antics of planning traps or researching new ways to interrogate your classmates until someone was spooked into admitting their position as the mastermind. Once in a while, he would read for pleasure, and at first you felt like an asshole for being surprised by that. You judged him too early on, seeing a flawless face and a suave personality and assuming he would be the popular kid archetype you’d seen in many an awful young adult novel. The more you got to know him, the more he revealed himself to be highly intelligent, well-rounded, considerate, empathetic, and extremely attractive.

"Thanks, Rantarou," you looked down, placing the book under your arm.

"No problem… it's not everyday I get to do something useful for someone else here," he rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously. You laughed too, looking him up and down.

“That’s not true!” you countered. “You’re always helping us all out. You give great advice, too!”

“Well, I try to help, but I’m sure it hasn’t escaped everyone’s notice that none of my plans have really... taken off,” he gestured, moving his hand in a soaring-upward motion. “Also, with me not rememberin’ my talent and all… I kinda have become the expendable background character, yeah?” His eyes crinkled closed with a kind smile.

He laughed again to fill the silence of the dark, empty library. You giggled. You always thought it was cute how could be so humble, looking the way he did, sounding the way he did. He had been that way ever since you’d met him, and are far as you were concerned, it seemed genuine. You couldn’t really trust anyone in this killing game, but you trusted Rantarou. Even in the library past midnight, where no one would know if you ended up dead, you trusted Rantarou.

"Sorry, I uh, I didn't mean to scare you," he leaned against the bookcase, arms crossed.

"Nah, it's fine. You helped me out, so I forgive you..." You joked, playfully punching his shoulder. He smiled a bit sheepishly, an expression you didn’t see often in the confident male.

"Yeah I… haha," He fiddled with a book nearby," I didn't think anyone would be here. I always come at night. Surprisingly, it's pretty boomin’ here during the day, so I come later on to avoid the hassle of a crowded space." You understood completely. Rantarou was always secretive about his plans.

“I know, I see you here sometimes,” you mused.

“Oh, really? I usually sit behind the back shelves, so I guess i didn’t notice you. You’re pretty quiet, huh? Maybe I should be watchin’ my back for you, huh?” He snickered

"I was having the same thought, isn't that weird?" He looked at you with alarm. “I’m kidding!” To that, he relaxed a bit. "So, watcha reading?"

"Oh, um," He gestured behind him to the aforementioned back shelf "I’m set up back there reading. It's just some old, boring, textbook information on one of the small countries I’ve visited. I thought it'd be interesting, but..."

"Yeah, sounds like it," You looked at him with genuine interest, and he smiled in appreciation.

"Wait, really?!"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be? I think it’s super cool that you’re well-traveled. I guess that’s why you and Korekiyo get along so well, huh?" His feet shuffled in silent excitement at your shared enthusiasm. He bit his lip playfully, and your eyes grew shiny in admiration. He was so adorable.

He noticed your change in expression and coughed, frowning a little in embarrassment. You tried to change the subject, to make him comfortable again.

"H-hey, Rantarou?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from the ground eagerly.

"You're gonna be up reading all night, right? Well.. I will be, too, and... it’s harder for someone to kill us with four eyes on the lookout..."

"Yeah?"

"So, you wanna maybe sit with me here at my table? The vents reach this side of the library better so it’s a bit warmer... haha, it's... it's kinda cold in here," You pulled your uniform’s turtleneck tighter around yourself, shaking a little. Rantarou immediately accepted. He wasn’t about to pass up an invitation from his crush.

“Hell yeah, sounds great! I’ll go grab my stuff, but, hey, I’ve noticed I hardly ever see you in the dorms… you know you gotta sleep, right?” He had a concerned look on his face, and your heart of course fluttered at his attention to detail and knowledge of your habits, but you didn’t want him worrying about you when he had his own safety to look out for.

“Well, I appreciate the concern, but I’d much rather spend time with you than be in my dorm alone worrying.” He seemed to blush at your words, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far, until he agreed, and rushed over to grab his reading material.

You sighed deeply, a yawn slipping out once or twice. At least two hours had passed since you and Rantarou set up your little corner and there he still sat, in the wooden chair across from yours, never looking up at you from his book. A peaceful, relaxed look glazed his face. He had been that way almost the whole time, but you could sense him becoming a bit antsy. Maybe he was just tired?

You were both fast readers, so by now you had already read the best sections of your own books and switched. He now sat reading the yellowed pages of the book you selected: an eclectic compilation of 16th century romance literature, and you were now five chapters into his text on the different ethnic groups of some far-off land.

“Hmm… heh,” he shook his head amusedly.

“What?” Your head shot up anxiously, fearing he was judging your choice of genre.

“It’s just... some of this is extremely cheesy and cliche. You’d think the old masters would have done a little better.” He lifted the book in a referencing gesture.

“Ah, yes, I noticed that as well. I was hoping for a little inspiration, but… it seems Monokuma isn’t the best curator of quality literature.” He nodded in agreement, seemingly stuck on a thought. You could see him stare into space for a second before continuing.

“Inspiration for what… may I ask?” He pressed, waiting with bated breath for your reply. You felt your feathers start to ruffle, the borders of your comfort zone being invaded by the enemy. You didn’t know if you should answer honestly. The letter was a throwaway for a reason…

“I was going to write a letter…” it slipped out, and you quickly regretted it. Apparently, your brain had decided to take the lead for you. You never recalled yourself being so forward or brave.

“Why do you need sonnets and romance novels to write a letter? Planning to sweet talk Monokuma into freeing us?” He chuckled somewhat teasingly, but his haughty words slowly faded to silence upon noticing the wet shine in your nervous eyes, the way your fingers played with the corner of the book as a distraction for your discomfort.

“No…” You coughed, clearing your throat. Rantarou looked away, running a hand through his green shaggy locks. He knew what the letter was for, of course, who it was for. He was a bit nervous, too, eager to play off the tension in the room with humor, but it wasn’t working. He was wondering why you were so apprehensive, so sullen at his inquiry. You two flirted almost every day… did you seriously need to worry about his reaction? Did you think he didn’t like you back? “I-It’s… well it was going to be a um… a confession of sorts… just to get my feelings down on paper and off my chest. Then I was gonna burn it afterward to set those feelings free!” You smiled weakly, betraying your lack of confidence.

“Nah, you should give it to him- them!” He corrected himself, dropping the most obvious hint he could. You still didn’t look convinced, a bit oblivious.

“Y-you think so?”

“For sure, no doubt. Whoever that letter is meant for,” he leaned in to you, clasping his calloused hands around yours. You felt your heart skip a beat at the contact, and you were left speechless, fearing any words spoken now would come out as idiotic babbling, “they are gonna love it. Trust me.” His eyebrows rose with emphasis, and he shot you one of his iconic, heart-melting smiles.

140 notes · View notes

sweetpxsin · 4 years

Text

skz as dads

♡ skz.group

♡ rated.f

wow it’s been a hot minute since I wrote something like this --spx

♡ Chan

The moment you told him he was going to be a dad he’d already be jumping with joy

Like he would absolutely be ecstatic

He’s the“babe we HAVE TO get this for the baby I know they’ll love it” or the “look at what I got for the baby” kinda dad

And when his baby girl is born he’s treating her like the little princess she is the day she’s born

He’s so gentle and soft with her it’s literally so hard not to just coo when you see them together

If she cries his heart breaks a little and he will do everything and anything to make her stop

When she’s a bit older he’d take the extra time to pack her cute little lunches with notes when she had to go to daycare

He doesn’t even flinch when she brings a dress to him and asks for a tea party because he’d be down no questions asked

Will put his whole ass heart into acting during play time for his daughter

And when she’s a little bit older and can have school crushes it’s going to crush Chan

Because daddy’s princess is attracting boys he deems unworthy even though he knows damn well he saw them holding hands

To sum this up Chan will absolutely adore his daughter to the depths of hell and back even if it breaks his heart a little bit each day to see her growing up so fast

♡ Woojin

The day you told him you guys were going to be parents he couldn’t stop smiling

His reaction would be mundane but his actions would show he’s much more excited

Like each night your bump grows he’s always talking to the baby and putting his ear to your belly and kissing it

He’s literally so excited he came home one day with like a bag full of baby clothes and toys and he’d just have the biggest smile ever

Like man really do be planning for this baby’s arrival my dude

He’ll be extra super sweet to you too and make sure your super relaxed and comfortable anytime he can

But at the same time he’s like come on we have to go buy this, this, and this for the baby even when your only like 2 months pregnant

And when the baby arrives he’ll be so happy and cry when he finally gets to hold his son

god Woojin would just adore his little boy like he can’t even begin to express how much he loves his son

He’d buy them matching outfits, take him to the parks and let him help with grocery shopping

And he’d allow his baby boy to adventure and explore because seeing his son be expressive and happy just makes his heart so warm

Oh and the amount of toys this boy will have will be absolutely ridiculous

There is not one dinosaur his son wouldn't have, he’d probably have a whole bin

Woojin would be the type of dad that enjoys watching his son play and joining in every now and then rather than be the high energy chasing around the house type of dad

Though he does have his days where he can run around and be a complete jokester with his son

But most of his time his son is either playing quietly with him or they’re napping together quietly after watching tv or Woojin read him a book

His son would be so well behaved yet so cute🥺

♡ Minho

When you told Minho he was going to be a dad he’d deadass be so proud like damn I really just created life with this beautiful human being

And you better believe he’s proudly telling the boys and family he’s about to be a dad

Though he’d also be really excited and want to spoil his child

He’d buy them all the high quality baby stuff because why the frick not

And when your baby bump is getting bigger he always talking to the baby that way and waiting for when it kicks

And high key scolding his baby when he thinks they kicked too hard 💀

He absolutely adores the fact the he’s going to be a father for this baby though

When the baby’s born Minho can’t stop smiling and he’s just so proud of you and happy he might cry a bit

The first stuff toy he’ll buy for his baby girl is definitely a cat no questions asked

He’d fawn over this baby girl so much because he just thinks she’s so precious

And when she’s still young he’d always have the baby carrier on him because there’s no separating the two

Minho would definitely pull small innocent pranks like the type you see on TROS

But he does it because he just wants to see his baby girl smiling and laughing all the time while creating a strong bond with her

And when she cries his heart breaks a little and he fake cries in hopes it brings up her spirit

He’s just got such a huge soft spot for her that when one she likes one of her “uncles” more he high key gets jealous

And when she gets older protective Minho is out and about

He’s gotta set the rules down of absolutely no dating till 20

And when he sees his baby interacting cutely with another boy he’s highkey upset but his baby is so happy he can’t do anything about it

So he’s just fuming off on the side in jealous dad while glaring at the little boy with his daughter

♡ Changbin

Lord have mercy on Changbin when you tell him he’s going to be a dad

He’s trying so hard not to cry but he can’t help it and is smiling all goofy and wide

God he’d buy all the toys and stuff toys just for his baby girl

He’d even buy her a matching Gyu

And when his baby girl finally is born he can’t even stop crying and smiling because he’s so happy

When it’s his turn to watch baby he’s playing all the little princess games and probably will go as far as acting the princess's horse

Just anything to hear his baby’s laugh

And when she gets a bit older and he has to go back to the group but it’s his turn to watch her you can bet he’s in the studio with her

He just adores the way she dances and tries to sing along with the music

He’s starting this rapper young 💀

And when the whole family is together you better believes he’s planning a family picnic

Deadass will become the dad that creates the hella extra, but cute and thoughtful lunches for his daughter

Ugh Changbin will just love the freak out of his daughter and will highkey get jealous when she favors a member over him even if it’s just for a day or an hour before she’s crying for him

He just adores her so much because wow he really just created life with the person of his dreams

♡ Hyunjin

At first Hyunjin didn’t process all the information fully and he’d be sitting there for a minute smiling before turning his head back to you at neck breaking speed

And Hyunjin can be a bit dramatic… and let’s just say he almost passes out but is crying but is excited and he can’t just pick one

ANYWAYS

Hyunjin would be ecstatic to know he’s going to be a father but also a little nervous

But that wouldn’t tamper his mood for preparing for his little dude’s arrival

He’d probably be the dad to buy his kid designer clothes, and buy matching pairs just for the family

And when his little son finally arrives, he’s so excited he almost forgets that his son was literally just born and he can’t just take him home

But he’s so gentle with his baby boy when he’s still little

Like he’s always rushing when he hears his son’s crying, always cooing when he’s laughing and can probably be found asleep with his son cuddled in his arms after a long day

And when his son’s a bit older they’re literally the perfect pair

When Hyunjin’s walking out of the room, his little boy is holding his hand with his favorite toy in his other hand dragging right behind them

And when Hyunjin’s getting ready his son is copying him the best he can

It’s literally monkey see monkey do with these two and Hyunjin finds it absolutely adorable that his son looks up to him so much

But they’re also the goofiest pair ever and there’s never a dull moment with these two

They’re either running around giggling or going on adventures to fun places

And when his baby boy is a bit older he loves joking around with his dad and saying stuff like “mom is the best!” just to hear Hyunjin jokingly say “you punk” and chase him around

They’re just so close and it’s honestly so adorable

♡ Jisung

Honestly at first he really thought you were joking

Like he’d be smiling and be like haha babe really funny and then he’d see your still smiling and not getting mad he found out your joke

And his face would go from haha got you to OH SHOOT U FOREEAL super happy face

He’d then immediately tackle you into a hug but we won’t talk about that

Jisung would be so excited but won’t have any idea what he’s doing and is probably panically calling his mom every .02 seconds

He’d definitely put in the time to figure out the best for his baby and buy all the cute baby stuffies

And when his baby girl is born he’s literally crying when he finally gets to hold her because to him she’s the prettiest thing in the world

He’d buy her all the prettiest dresses and will even take the time to learn how to do her hair

He’d even buy her the cute bows and hair clips 🥺

And while he’s all into buying his baby all the stuffed toys and clothes he’d also be there to applaud her on the little achievements she has

And will literally record ever moment he has with her because MEmoRiEs

Like you can be at work and get the randomest, most funny or wholesome video ever of the both of them and you’ll never know which type you’re getting that day

And when he establishes she’s a total papa’s girl he will not hesitate to boast about it

But let’s be real about the moment she was born they were inseparable, they’re both adorable crackheads since birth 💀

♡ Felix

He genuinely thought you were pranking him because he had seen those videos of girls who prank their boyfriends with the “baby in me” prank

Like Felix would look at you so done and then be like babe that’s not funny

And when you don’t apologize and just keep giggling it settles in and he’d freak out for a moment

Then he’ll get all excited and hold you tight and be like “WERE GOING TO BE PARENTS”

And then be like brb I gotta go tell my mom about this

Like he’s so happy he’s telling literally everyone and anything he’s going to have a family with the love of his life

He’d probably become super sentimental too and just start crying because he’s just so happy

Though at the same time he’s super excited for the baby he’s literally pointing out everything baby related and trying to convince you the baby needs it

And before the baby’s even born he’d definitely buy a baby photo album and a new camera to keep all the memories

When his baby girl is born he’s honestly so soft and crying all over again

And when he takes her home he does no hesitate to give her a house tour when she’s up from her nap

Felix would probably come up with a cute nickname for her like buttercup or something like that

And he'd genuinely enjoy playing dolls with her and hosting tea parties

He can’t bear to pull pranks on her though because as soon as he hears her cry he’s already scooping her up and trying to cheer her up

She’s just so precious to him and he thinks she only deserves to spend her childhood laughing in good and loving memories

Though when she is a little bit older he probably would pull small and harmless pranks on her

But for now he’s probably doing her hair while she discusses about her favorite cartoon with a bowl of snack in hand

♡ Seungmin

When you told Seungmin he was going to be a dad all he could do was give you soft eyes and smile because he was so happy and excited he didn’t know what to do

But when you hugged him he’d cry a little bit and ramble on about how he’s so happy to be starting a family with you

And afterwards he’s all excited to start planning asking like what color should the room be and all that good stuff

He’d be the type of dad to pick up a couple cute things he think the baby would enjoy on the way home and just silently place it in the room, which is just so heart warming because you know he’s trying

And when he found out you were going to have twins he’d be really shocked but he wouldn’t love them any less

Like the moment he gets to hold both of them he’s a soft mess who’s all teary eyes while holding both of them

He’d be such a good dad and he makes it look easy while taking are of both of them

Seungmin could be braiding his little girls hair while also playing with his son and no one will ever know how he keeps them so calm

It’s just so cute though seeing him hold both of them while taking them out on adventures and allowing them to help him

He just adores his twins so much honestly and that’s why he finds it difficult to get upset with them

You’ll always either find him asleep with both of them on either side of them or playing around the apartment there’s no in between

He’s also the type of dad that enjoys his kids genuine help when he tries to make something nice for you and if they mess up the surprise all he can do is laugh

But if there’s one thing Seungmin’s very specific on is teaching his twins to clean because he’s not about to have a messy house oh no no no hunty

Though half of the time he does help them and gets them ice cream afterwards because he can never say no to them

♡Jeongin

When you told him he was going to be a dad he’d smile so wide and keep asking if you were for real because he’s just so happy

He might have a little happy breakdown but that’s okay because right afterwards he’d be all excited telling you all the things he can’t wait to buy for your guys baby

Though he’d also be a little timid and alwaying making sure to get your okay with the necessary things the baby would need

Otherwise when it comes to toys he’s buying everything and anything he sees because his baby deserves everything

And when his son is born he can’t help but smile lovingly at his little boy as he’s sleeping in his arms

Jeongin would be pretty gentle and careful during the baby’s first months home partially because he’s nervous but mostly because he doesn’t want to make his son cry

Though when he’s older Jeongin’s all in for running around the house, having cute little dance parties and singing nursery rhymes with his little boy

When he’s not playing around with his son he’s probably taking him out to some picnic adventures or an amusement park

If not he’s probably amusing his son with his trot singing because he just loves the way it brings amusement to his face

Other than that you can find them having a seemingly important conversation while sharing a bowl of fruit

When in reality their discussing about what his son’s favorite toy is while Jeongin tries to make him eat

400 notes · View notes

wickedpact · 4 years

Text

anyways @ THE ANON THAT ASKED ABOUT THE GREG RUCKA PODCAST TRANSCRIPT: i did it

Long Ass Post under cut

(literally not kidding there’s an hour long podcast worth of transcript under this cut)

Mimi: Hi I'm Mimi Chan, welcome to culture chat, thanks for joining the conversation. Hi everyone, happy Friday. You might want to watch The Old Guard movie on Netflix before listening today. You can also read my film review to get hyped up for viewing – which is linked here.

Greg Rucka and Leandro Fernández‘s The Old Guard comic has been adapted to film that is available for viewing on Netflix. As the writer of both the comic and screenplay, Greg brings insights on the movie and the decisions behind some of the deviations from the comic.

For fans of the comic, have no fear, the characters and story follow pretty closely to the original. I am fortunate that I developed a friendship with Greg during our weekly conversations and felt comfortable asking candid questions about the adaptation.

Greg shares insights about the film that prompts a discussion on how the film speaks to the crisis our country is currently in amidst the covid19 pandemic and the lack of accountability from our government.

The Old Guard, directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood, is available on Netflix now starring an amazing cast including: Charlize Theron and Chiwetel Ejiofor.

For those that don’t already know: Greg Rucka is a New York Times bestselling author of hundreds of comics and nearly two dozen novels. He has written for film, television, and video games. His career has included critically acclaimed and Eisner-winning work in both the creator-owned and work-for-hire arenas.

I’m loving these conversations and hope you are too. If you are, please rate my podcast on your platform of choice.

Finally, if you would like to support with a donation, you can become a patron of the show by visiting my website or Patreon.com. For comments or suggestions, please email me at [email protected] or reach out on social media @sifumimichan. Now on with the show!

[the phonecall starts]

Mimi: Hello, hello, Greg Rucka!

Greg: How you doing, Mimi?

Mimi: Great since last week, um, I'm great also because I got to watch The Old Guard!

Greg: [BIG GASP] You did?

Mimi: I did, I did! Apparently I qualify as a real journalist to Netflix. [laughs]

Greg: [also laughs] Right, you sent the media inquiry and they said ‘sure’!

Mimi: I said, ‘you know, what? It would be great if I actually saw this before talking to Greg, and then I could really have a conversation.’ And I was like, ‘wait, why don't I just check if I can?’ And then naturally--

Greg: Lo and behold!

Mimi: Yeah, if you ask, uh, you know,? That’s when things get done.

Greg: [finishing her 'if you ask' thought] --you shall receive, yeah.

Mimi: That's right, that's right.

Greg: It's interesting to me because I know that for some people... you know, they had no problem getting access...

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: And then, you know, the friends and family screenings were a freaking nightmare to arrange.

Mimi: Oh really?

Greg: And they were like 'oh no you can only give it to only like seven people'

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: And it's like 'oh hey dudes calm down' but, you know, uh, it won't matter come midnight tonight--

Mimi: That's right!

Greg: --Everyone's gonna have access!

Mimi: That's right. so I was so excited to be able to watch it and, um, man-- I almost feel bad talking to you right now because I feel like you must be really kind of exhausted from talking about the film --as much as you love it! I just I can only imagine that it's been hour after hour after hour of inquiry, so I feel a little guilty.

Greg: There has been a lot of talking about the movie, yes. There has not been a lot of talking about the movie with you, however, so that that does distinguish it.

Mimi: Ah, you are too kind to me, too kind to me. So, first of all-- and you're gonna have to sit here and just take it -- I'm just so unbelievably excited for you and a huge congratulations-- I mean-- I already knew from the trailer, that it was going to be a quality and just an intense and well-written film, because you wrote it. But, upon watching it --you know, of course, you know, Oscar [her bf or husband maybe?] got to jump into my media pass. He was privy!

Greg: I was gonna say, did you say 'you can't come in here while I watch it', you know?

Mimi: I mean, you know-- he's not gonna tell anyone. But we were, we were completely enamored. We were super super excited, and it wasn't just an action film, you know. I think beyond that, what you and Gina brought to it was just-- the strength of the characters, which is something you and I have discussed so much, and how that is what drives a story, and so beyond it being a good movie I just really feel like you were able to tell the story that you conveyed-- not only in the comic, but, you know, come to life. And so I'm, I was, I'm just so excited for you.

Greg: And I'm delighted to hear it

Mimi: I have been reading reviews-- I wrote my own little review-- you know, since I got the access and all, I felt like obligated but, um, obviously, I'm not the only one with this opinion. You must feel-- I guess validated is the wrong word, because I think, you know where you stand with your work, but it must feel really good being your first screenplay.

Greg: I-- wow. um. Hm. I -- so Netflix sends, um, an email like on average once a day, sometimes it's been twice a day, with sort of like 'here's the press round up'!

Mimi: Yeah

Greg: And so I’ve woken up the last couple days to 'here are the reviews!' and I immediately delete. Right? Because I don't want to see them, um... and that's just me, right. That’s just me trying to negotiate how I feel about... reviews and my relationship with them. And, it isn't the most mature way to deal with them, I am the first to admit, um, but I-- for better or worse, I'm in a place where I feel like, well if I invest in a review --that is a positive review-- the amount of work... um... the amount of work required to do the due diligence on the reviewer and also on then, say, negative reviews is such that I just-- I'm not going-- I can't devote it.

Mimi: Right, mm-hm, yeah, it's a rabbit hole.

Greg: So some of the reviews-- and all that said, some of this stuff is getting to me anyway, right, I mean, I got-- you know people text me and 'oh look here's a review' and it is gratifying as hell. Uh... at the end of the day --and I learned this with my novels pretty early on, is that at the end of the day, you know, a great review is wonderful, and it'll make you feel good about yourself, and maybe it'll sell more books... but at a certain point in -- and you know this-- you've experienced this... as you make the thing, and then at a certain point it goes into the world and all you can do is be like... you know, ‘are you wearing clean underwear and hopefully you'll find a safe home’ [<-- he’s talking like he's the story's mother with that statement]. You know, hopefully-- hopefully there will-- there are people out there that will embrace. So the extension of that is that... Netflix reaches something like 130 million plus households around the world. alright, Um, I'm pretty sure out of a theoretical 130 million people who might see the movie, uh, you know -- I would be surprised if, you know, 30 percent of them didn't-- you know-- couldn't stand it. I wouldn't-- I wouldn't be surprised. Right? There are going to be people who are going to see it and it's not going to be their thing.

Mimi: Yeah

Greg: they're not-- it's not going to speak to them-- they're not going to like the choices that we made-- that they're going to be offended, or just bored or whatever. And... Can’t do anything about it!

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: All I can do is stand beside the work that we've created and say I am proud of what we did here, and I feel that we, um, we honored the source material, and --I believe -- in many ways improved on it.

Mimi: Yeah and that's something I definitely want to get into. I mean my take was obviously-- I'm a fan of your comics, so I know the comic, I know the story, and the immediate thing as a comic book quote unquote fan is like: you're comparing, right, you're comparing the story, you're comparing the characters-- and, you know, when I wrote my little review I thought about what I could say, you know, I could I could criticize action, I could talk about this... but I really feel -- and this maybe, it's because you and I have been talking for like 11 or 12 weeks straight now, it's literally like... the perfect story at a time when we need it most. I think there's strong women, there's a diverse cast, and ass kicking to greedy individuals of the world is exactly what we need right now!

Greg: Like oh yeah, there's some lovely wish fulfillment. Yes, you know, it's like 'oh, you know, rich selfish pharma asshole? Yeah oh no you got an axe in your head! Too bad!'

Mimi: I know! I was like, ‘so Greg, so Greg!’ and-- you know, we've talked about this before like now that I'm reading your novels and your prose, it's, it's I hear you speaking to me in my head even though usually it's an audio book-- and so even watching the film Oscar and I immediately were like 'I wonder what pharma did to piss him off recently' and, you know, so it's just it's so great--

Greg: Exist!

Mimi: -- to be able to kind of watch it-- [laughing] Exist, right right. So, um, so let's talk about--

Greg [gearing himself up]: Let's talk about insulin prices maybe, uh, you know, I mean. Doesn’t take much--

Mimi: Yeah and you and I discussed this, uh, previously as well that you do feel that at the end of the day you wrote a better story, and I already put a disclaimer at the top of this podcast that yeah--

[Both at once] total spoiler alerts big spoiler alerts!

Mimi: --but there's no way I'm not going to talk to you about it! Which is, um, you know, the ending obviously is so, uh, different than what was laid out in the comic. One is, uh, Andy is still bleeding! What the hell! [laughs] so that's the first thing. But my big takeaway and the thing I loved, and I think that was probably a decision by both you and Gina, um, was Nile really becoming kind of the heroine and finding herself in her own, but also really the one to bring everyone back to what was purposeful and what was meaningful-- finding that why, you know, and I think that was a really really powerful choice and I actually really enjoyed that choice. So I was wondering, um, you know, for you of course knowing the story already, and then going 'okay here I am going to adapt' it like at what point did you realize like-- that was something that needed to change?

Greg: Well, um, I mean if people have been listening to interviews some of this is going to sound a little repetitious. I will say that, you know, the first draft of the screenplay I did with, uh, Matt Grimm(?) as sort of my producer in quotes, at Skydance and when we finished it-- or when I finished it-- and he had given me all the notes and I’d done revisions, and we put it in front of Don Granger(?) at Skydance-- and Granger came back with three notes. And I have dealt with a lot of Hollywood types and in the main-- most of their notes are crap. And Granger has yet to give me a note that wasn't spot dead on. And the biggest of the three was, um, you know, he said-- I really like-- it's really good-- he says ‘Nile has no impact whatsoever on this plot. Um, if you remove her the story changes, but the plot doesn't’. And I sat there and I went-- you know, bewildered -- and I sort of looked at the source material and I was like 'you are absolutely correct. You are absolutely 100% correct'. So the big thing that happened between the first draft and the second draft was that I thought of the second draft as-- this is the Nile draft-- like the first draft had been the Andy story. And then the second draft was me going, ‘okay you have the Andy story, now what is the Nile story? Really really take a look at that and figure out how to bone it up’. So and I honestly think that in large part it was the execution of that, uh, was one of the things that Gina responded to so strongly when she was given the screenplay. And then when Gina came aboard, there was just consistent work in fine-tuning not just Andy and Nile but everybody else's stories throughout the work. But it was, um, it was absolutely, you know, I mean-- it was-- it was-- it was malice of forethought. It was-- it was 'Nile has to be able to shoulder this and we need to serve her well'

Mimi: Yeah and--

Greg: Andy was never the question, it really was: can we do right for Nile?

Mimi: Yeah no and that really definitely shines through. And I think there's that says so much about you as a writer, as a screenwriter, as a storyteller, because there are a lot of people, um, that would not be able to have that humility in writing and maybe take that feedback and criticism. because, you know, this was not like you adapted someone else's comic, like this was already your comic, you know, so they're basically giving you notes on what's already your story-- and did you find that aspect of it, uh, challenging or was it just kind of second nature-- because I know you as a person, so I know that you would take criticism well, if it is well meant and if it was constructive. but at the same time when you're in it though, and you've put so much work into those drafts-- it's not like 'oh let me just write this' and it takes five minutes, you know? You put so much into it. So how's that process for you?

Greg: You know, it was not-- it wasn't as difficult as some people seem to think it might have been. And maybe it's simply that I'm at an age where I'm able to look at my work with some degree of objectivity and I, long ago, past the point of believing that, uh... that that the work can't be improved. and I went into the process eyes very wide open, you know, I think one of the reasons Skydance was willing to let me write the drafts was because I made it clear up front that I understood... The movie was not the comic. It needed to be a different thing, and one of the things that they were adamant about were the things that I kept. Now, I had a conversation with Granger once where I said 'I'm kind of surprised nobody ever came to me and said ‘you got to get rid of that armored car sequence' and he looked at me and he said 'if that hadn't been in there I would have wanted to know why, and I would have made you put it back. That’s one of the things that we bought' for instance. So I think, you know, if there was anything to recommend me, it was that I entered the process... fully aware that this had to be a different animal.

Mimi: Yeah, yeah.

Greg: And that was liberating. And there are certain things-- for instance, you know, um, in the comic book there's the sequence in the Paris safe house on the stairs in the apartment. And when Charlize came on one of the first notes was 'we're gonna have to change that sequence'. Because in recent memory Charlize Theron has done a pretty intense action sequence--

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: --coming down the stairs in an apartment.

Mimi: Atomic Blonde, yeah

Greg: You got it! And it was like oh that-- that's a gimme. And the result of that was the discovery of Goussainville right, which is this real town 30 minutes outside of Paris that is a ghost town; it's been a ghost town since the early 1970s.

Mimi: Wow, yeah it was a beautiful location

Greg: Yeah and-- and the place is real, and they didn't shoot in Goussainville. They shot-- they shot that at the same place where they shot the medieval castle flashbacks.

Mimi: Okay.

Greg: That's all the same estate.

Mimi: Nice, nice.

Greg: It's about an hour outside of London. Which gives you an idea of the magic--

Mimi: Of the magic of movies yeah! And do you feel like maybe because your experience as a comic book collaborator... like you have to collaborate. I’ve learned about this a lot more as I’ve spoken to so many creators -- like you and Michael for instance-- on Lazarus, like the way you collaborate, it's not 'I write you draw, period' like-- you-- there's a lot of back and forth, a lot of questioning of your decisions and-- ‘arguing’ may be the wrong term, but, you know, there is a lot of, uh, collaboration in terms of Michael giving you feedback and vice versa, and not feeling like 'oh you're stepping in my territory'. Do you feel like that is probably something that maybe even conditioned you for the screenwriting process?

Greg: I think so. If -- I mean-- I don't wanna-- I don't wanna pat myself on the back over much. But I do think that I am, um, I think I'm certainly a willing collaborator if not always a good collaborator on projects. Um, that if the people I am working with... want to engage that collaboration, I tend to respond to it very well. Um, and I think that's something that absolutely was learned through comics. And I can think, you know, immediately of Gotham Central which doesn't exist if Ed Brubaker(?) and I don't learn how to work together with Michael Lark(?) very quickly and very adeptly--which to this day, is one of my favorite collaborations in comics ever. I don't think you get to work, like, 52 for DC, um, if you don't learn how to collaborate, and to collaborate well.

Mimi: Exactly.

Greg: Which isn't always which isn't always saying 'yes and' sometimes you have to put your foot down and say 'no but'

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: Um, and there were plenty of arguments to be had, you know, in the process of this. Um, but most of those arguments frankly didn't occur until really late in the stage, and they were always focused to the same end. It was never-- that-- there was never an argument about, um-- there was never an argument about intent. there was always an argument about 'what's the best way to do it' right, 'what's the best way to execute' and, you know, I lost as many of those as I won, and... In the end... it seems to have all worked out, because, you know-- it is by no means a flawless motion picture. But I think it absolutely is a successful film. I think it does, it does, it tells its story well, it is moving, it is exciting, it is fun, it has a heart to it...and it leaves you with some questions! And they're not just plot questions-- that-- it leaves you with some stuff that if you are inclined to think about, there's a lot there's a lot to unpack.

Mimi: Absolutely. Yeah. I mean... the question, of course, that whole immortality-- like some people immediately will be like 'of course I’d want to be immortal' I'm like 'but would you want to watch everyone you know die?' and then 'all right would you be alone' and, you know, of course Booker's-- you know, um-- punishment, have you, of being alone quote unquote for a hundred years... I mean a hundred years, you know, you think-- that's a long time.

Greg: Right.

Mimi: And so, uh, I do have to ask though what's up with Andy! Like --you're-- you left us in such a --in such a state! Oscar’s like 'you have to ask Greg what's going on with Andy' or do we not-- we cannot go there?

Greg: Look, the film has a very obviously-- very obvious 'in case of sequel break glass' scene. Right, I mean-- and that's how I've been referring to it. The 'emergency sequel' button is right there. And all they have to do is go 'beep' and you have your entree into another story. Um, the question about Andy really is whether or not the immortality is the thing that matters, right. Where she is left at the end of the film, I think, asks some really cool questions about who this woman gets to be moving forward. Um, and should we be able to do a sequel, you bet your ass we're going to interrogate the hell out of that. Um, but... one of the things that I particularly like about the movie-- and I say this with the, you know, 'in case in case of sequel break glass' proviso, is that the movie doesn't need a sequel. The movie has an ending, it is a complete work. It does not say, uh, 'unless there is a second story this story doesn't have merit or value or mean anything'.

Mimi: Right.

Greg: It stands absolutely on its own.

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: Um, should there be an Old Guard 2, then I suspect an Old Guard 2 is gonna be arguably contingent on making an Old Guard 3. That, once you enter into a second part you are actually saying 'we are we are talking about, uh, a collection, we're we're talking about a completion here' and that movement in that structure is in act 1 and act 2 and act 3. But as it stands now as you walk away from it-- all right, so maybe Andy's gonna die. You know, maybe the next day she crosses the street she's hit by a truck.

Mimi: I'm gonna guess no on that!

Greg: But maybe. Or maybe, maybe she gets to go for 50 years, you know, and die of old age. Finally.

Mimi: Right, um, and I liked what she said, when there was that realization point by others that, you know, she was possibly losing her mortality and she said 'it doesn't matter, we go in the same way, and we come out the same way, as we always did' so nothing changes.

Greg: ‘This changes nothing’

Mimi: ‘This changes nothing’. And that really resonated with me because you kind of go ‘okay it's not about the immortality or the magic or the fighting or any of that', you know, it's like, who she is and what her purpose is has been-- you know, it was just I thought it was really--

Greg: Well and I think thematically right, um-- hold on a second sorry-- um, I think, um, thematically that that is the crucial thing right? Um, it is an issue of -- okay at the end of the day... you can strip away the whole immortality of this movie and it's still saying the same thing. And it is saying that how you live your life matters. And the decisions you make, and the choices you make, and the ways you... choose to help people, matter. And they matter beyond an accounting you will ever be privileged to see. And the... obvious and I suppose easy, um, analogy for that right now is the act of wearing a mask in public.

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: Your decision to wear a mask in public may save the life of somebody literally on the other side of the world.

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: And that may be the person who will cure cancer, I mean, to draw it really big.

Mimi: Yeah yeah that's the ripple effect.

Greg: Right yeah, we don't know the value of the life. And I’ve talked about this as well but, you know, if you use the good place, um, term of moral desert--

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: --if you're trying to live your life in search of moral desert then-- you-- that's a fine reason to do good things, but it is a flawed motivation. That the motivation needs to be 'we do the best we can and we try to help others because that is what we should do'. And what the film is able to say 'is these people have been around long enough that it is possible to see it'

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: But that isn't the reason you do it, right. And Andy says --and I think this is important she says that to Booker-- you do it on faith. You know, she says to Booker, 'have a little faith, Book'. Um, that she has come through all of this with this reaffirmation, that there is that... there is a worthiness to the effort itself. That we engage in the struggle for the sake of the struggle. And I can't think of anything frankly more resonant in July of 2020 than that right now. We are living in a time, in a place that is genuinely the worst it has ever been in modern history. I mean it genuinely is.

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: We're looking at this-- this makes the start of World War II look like a fucking picnic. The crises that the world is facing and the bad actors who are attempting to keep it going, who are actively fighting attempts to fix it, uh, is staggering. We are facing a banality of evil at this moment that is incomprehensible, if you really start to think about it. And it is on every fucking level, you know, it's it is from foreign students we're going to kick out of the country--

Mimi: I know that's infuriating.

Greg: The only reason to do that is to kill higher education, at a time when higher education is its most vulnerable. It’s the only reason to do it.

Mimi: Yeah, it's all insidious

Greg: That is-- that is a-- that is a direct, direct attack on the intellect of the country. It is it is an attack trying to make the United States dumber, because the stupider we get the easier we are for these fucking fascists to control. Right, we have-- we are at war with Russia, but we have the GOP and the president refusing to admit it, because they work for Russia.

Mimi: Yeah yeah.

Greg: Right, but we are at war with Russia right now. All right, there's no question. We have a president who is actively promoting a white supremacist agenda, because he wants a race war, because he wants a civil war, because that way he won't have to lose the election and he won't have to leave, because if he leaves he's going to get raped to death when he goes to prison.

Mimi: Tell me how you really feel, Greg!

Greg: We are-- we are literally at a staggering crisis.

Mimi: Yeah yeah no, and when you're explaining all of those things about the film that was exactly what I was thinking was, well and that is why it's so frustrating when something as simple as, I hear people say ‘well I don't believe I should have to wear a mask' that's why it's so infuriating-- [they talk over each other a little]

Greg: --selfish thing to do

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: It is a staggering selfishness. I-- [mocking] 'oh it's hard for me to breathe wearing a face mask' it's like, 'you're the same guy who won't wear a condom because it doesn't feel good!’ you know, and it's like-- and-- I’ve got no tolerance for that, I literally have no tolerance. You know, you can't do-- it's funny, you're asking ER people to do it 24 hours a day.

Mimi: Exactly

Greg: They seem to manage it!

Mimi: Have you seen, uh, Jon Stewart lately, he's been doing a lot of interviews and there was this one where he's like 'yeah, I mean what happened to wearing a mask as like a sign of a medical professional? So the next time you go to surgery you're to tell your surgeon 'don't you dare wear a mask, get that liberal shit away from me, because I'm an American, I don't need your mask--'

Greg: '--I don't need you I’ll take those dreams(?)--'

Mimi: Yeah yeah

Greg: It's bullshit, it's selfish bullshit, and it's propaganda.

Mimi: Yeah right.

Greg: And it comes down from, you know, it comes down from, you know, the hissy fiddler in chief.

Mimi: Yeah. Lack of leadership.

Greg: Exactly.

Mimi: I'm living in it in Florida, too. Let me tell you that that trickle down is no joke, here.

Greg: I hate to tell you, Mimi, but [sarcastic] thank you, Florida. You know. Florida: the reason why the rest of the country can't have nice things.

Mimi: I know! Florida wins, every time it's so embarrassing!

Greg: I would be, I would consider moving [if he lived in Florida], simply because I would be infuriated.

Mimi: I know and, you know, I thought about it in 2016, but then I thought ‘I will stay and fight!’ because of you! You’re the one that wrote at the end of Lazarus to stay and fight, and now it's your fault that I'm staying! [Both laughing]

Greg: But see and here's the thing, right-- we can, we can rag on Florida, easy target, the fact of the matter is there are plenty of Floridians who are wearing masks and looking around and being like 'what the hell is the matter with you guys'.

Mimi: Yes! So we're trying! We’re trying!

Greg: And this is the other thing the vast number of people who are trying to do right, the people who do have empathy, the people who do care, we outnumber these guys! But the problem in being in a situation where we're all in it together is it doesn't take many people who say 'I'm not in it with you' to fuck it up for everybody else. That’s the problem. And then that is tied to the fact that those of us who do look at one another with empathy are resistant to-- for instance, taking a baseball bat to the people who are ruining for the rest of us. And this is one of the things frankly that we need to get over. We need to get to a place where it is not-- it is not tolerated. We need to get to a place where-- and the starkest example is this, you know, if you're going to pull out that racist bullshit somebody needs to hit you. There was a time when racists were scared and the reason they were scared was because they got punched in the mouth. And we stopped punching Nazis in the mouth!

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: we've stopped punching Nazis in the mouth! And we have spent way too long right now trying to reason with people when they are working from a place that defies reason. If you start your argument with 'you don't have a right to exist'. I'm not going to convince you! I have no obligation to convince you! None! None whatsoever! You look me in the eye and you say 'because you're Jewish you should die,' I get to say, 'guess what, here's the baseball bat'. That does not engage me. I will engage you about policy decisions.

Mimi: Mm-hmm yeah.

Greg: You know, Mark is fond of saying-- I remember he said 'I missed the days when I used to be able to argue with my republican friends about policy'.

Mimi: Yeah yeah I know.

Greg: You can't do that anymore, now it's about ideology and it's not even valid ideology. It is a demonstrably invalid ideology and we know it.

Mimi: Yeah yeah yeah the moral compass has been completely destroyed.

Greg: And we know how that happened and we know why that happened.

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: And we all know that Mark Zuckerberg is not doing anything to fix it, because Mark Zuckerberg is a chicken shit.

Mimi: Oh you mean 'Mark Zuckerberg, comma, the known pedophile'? Who doesn't believe in checking facts?

Greg: Yeah. I'm talking about Mark Zuckerberg, who was recently seen having sex with dead goats.

Mimi: [laughs] That one, okay got it. [laughs again, pause] so, uh……... The Old Guard... I'm just kidding!

Greg: No, but, okay but to bring it back around, I think that... look, there's one of the things that I love about the movie, and I think Gina and especially Charlize's performance, carries is the melancholy of it. But to end the movie on this note that Nile brings. This grace note that is, I think, it's not a call to arms, but it is an affirmation of what we can do. It doesn't matter, it literally is-- take away their immortality, the message is the same. and I'll take that message right now, man, without hesitation.

Mimi: Yeah it's true, she made the choice to get into the fight and to, you know, back up her team, her new family basically is what it is and, um, I would be amiss if I didn't talk about my unbelievable love for Nicky! [pause] and Joe! I, oh my god, [fangirling intensifies] so I loved it as much in the comic, but seeing it on screen... There was just something very magical for me, especially, you know, the scene in the truck and Joe does his 'my boyfriend' speech. you know, I-- oh my gosh. I think I rewound and rewatched that part because it was just so beautiful and so perfectly executed and, um-- that relationship to me, is just that's what I need right now. Like I need to believe in love, and I need to see, um, the happy parts of the film.

Greg: Marwan killed that, but I gotta tell you, one of my favorite moments is the moment when they're in the lab and, uh, and Nicky being like, 'much as I like watching you sleep...' and just the warmth between them on that and, you know, 'I’ve been thinking about Malta' and 'which time in Malta' and--

[both, very cutely] 'Ah that time in Malta!'

Greg: Yeah and I just, you know, Luca and Marwan. I look-- the casting on the movie is superlative. I just --I cannot imagine how they could have cast better. But the genuine friendship between Luca and Marwan, behind the scenes. They were, you know, they were going out and drinking at night, and Leandro has a photo of the two of them, uh, between setups outside of the soundstage at Shepparton, and they're kicking a soccer ball back and forth! They just, you know, they just loved each other as people.

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: You know what I mean? They were tight.

Mimi: Yeah yeah it translates! It really, it really translates on film. Like it's, you know, obviously maybe they're not like in love and like this couple, but you could see there's this chemistry, and they're friends, and there's a love for one another and, um, oh gosh it really translates. And so yeah-- I oh-- I just want to take Nicky home with me.

Greg: There is a shot-- it's one of the last--it's the last, I think, solo shot on Luca and it's the moment when he's looking at the sociogram, and he's just got his head cocked to the side... and it is... it's one of those things that you can only do in film, right, because it's --literally the camera, he is looking past the camera at this thing that the audience isn't seeing, and all it is him looking at it, and it's not like his he's doing facial calisthenics or anything.

Mimi: Right yeah

Greg: And I look at that shot and I just adore him-- and I can't even tell you-- I don't know if he was acting. It looks like acting to me!

Mimi: Right yeah Luca did such a spot on--

Greg: But that look in that moment. And me-- I just go-- like oh my god. He is so good.

Mimi: Yeah yeah.

Greg: He is so good.

Mimi: So let's talk a little bit about being on set because I know that you, uh, of course it's Stump Town but you weren't as involved in it the way that you were with this film being the screenwriter... um, you know, what was just kind of some memorable moments for you or what challenging moments even?

Greg: Challenging moments? Okay, um, this is gonna get me in trouble. I’ll tell you-- so I’ll tell you a couple of my favorite stories. Um, challenging was-- there were a lot of night shoots. And it was roughly, you know, I mean we're talking on the ninth, and I think I got back from England almost a year ago tomorrow, right. And I had been in England for about four or five weeks working on the film. And, a lot of those were night shoots on location. And that meant that you would, you know, end up going out during the day and you would have to wait until full dark in England, in summer. So there was literally shooting on the shortest night of the year, you had three and a half hours of darkness in which to shoot. And it gets a little bit of a grind.

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: You know, you're out there, and you're tired, and it is late, and it is cold, and there are only so many, you know, Americanos you can get from craft services (?) [laughs] yeah, um, and that was... that was exhausting. Um, I will tell you the best day I had.

Mimi: Yes.

Greg: Um, and this is going to piss people off, if they ever hear this and they won't so. Um, Mark Evans is this wonderful wonderful man, who was the producer on the movie. He was the guy on the ground. And when I arrived there had been, um, I mean-- so the long and the short of it is this: I got fired from the project in January of 2019. They brought in another writer for about six to eight weeks, they fired that writer. They brought in another writer, uh, and at that point Gina was re-engaging me. And then I ended up, by the time I was back out there, I was rehired on the production. But in that interim of like two and a half, three months, there had been different scenes and variations on the script. And so when I arrived the draft was this Frankenstein thing that was some of my original stuff, and some of the stuff Gina had done, and some of the stuff the last writer had done, and then the stuff that I had been doing throughout May and into June before I got there. And we ended up, um, on this day and it was super hot, and it's the sequence when they are filming-- it's the sequence outside of Andy's mine. And it was the arrival at the mine and then it's the scene with Andy and Nile outside of the mine. And those were shot at a quarry, um, in or near... I want to say Sussex.

Mimi: Okay.

Greg: So it's about an hour and a half outside of London and it is already scorching hot as we're headed out there. And we all know it's going to be all day, because we're going to have to, um, set everything up to then shoot dusk as dawn, right?

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: So I'm staying at this hotel and they have a driver, you know, the driver was assigned to me and I forget his name-- he was lovely, it was this great guy, and these guys are all interesting anyway, like the set drivers-- there's a whole discussion to be had about these guys. This guy is terrific, and we're driving down and we're talking, because I like talking to these guys, and, you know, I'm not going to be able to write in the car because I'll throw up everywhere. And he tells me that, oh yeah, you know, his parents moved down here and this and that, and I knew going out that day that Mark and I were going to spend the day in a trailer trying to compile everything into one collective draft. And I already wasn't looking forward to that, because I’d be like 'I'm gonna be in a goddamn trailer all day doing that. I don't wanna...’ [grumbles]. But I said to him 'wait a minute you're from around here?' he says 'oh yeah, you know.'[pause] '...you know, any good pubs?' and he says, 'uh, I do, yeah, there's a great old pub I can think of' and I say 'okay'. So we get to the location, and we are in the middle of nowhere because it's a FUCKING quarry.

Mimi: Right.

Greg: And base camp where they put the trailers is literally a mile from where they're shooting.

Mimi: Okay

Greg: Right because you have to go up this hill and up these little roads to the quarry. It’s an old quarry. and I get there, and nobody's around, and one of the assistants says 'oh Mark's over there' and I go okay and I go to Mark's trailer and I knock on the door, and I open the door, and he's sitting there. And it's not glamorous. Understand these are not the movies star trailers, these are not airstream trailers, these are absolutely no frills-- like there-is-a-bathroom-and- two- tables trailers, right? There's nothing sexy about them. This is not--I know what people think of when they go oh 'you're in a [noises]'. No! This trailer-- I mean Charlize may have had a glorious trailer--

Mimi: Right, this was not Charlize's trailer

Greg: Yeah Kiki might have, you know, I don't know--

Mimi: This is more like a middle school trailer.

Greg: Exactly. The example is this is the kind of trailer that they bring to the elementary school when they've run out of classrooms, right

Mimi: Right.

Greg: Right and so Mark's sitting there. And he's-- and the thing about Mark is he's got so much energy, and he says 'Rucka!' and I say 'Mark! ...let's go to a pub.' and he goes '...can we do that?' and I say 'do we have to be here today to do this? There a reason you have to be here, in this trailer, to do this work?' and he goes '...let's go to a pub!'. So we find the driver, and I say to him-- I think his name was Steve-- and I say 'Steve, can you take us to that pub?' and he says 'yeah!'. So we get in the car-- and we drive, and it takes about 20 minutes, and about 15 minutes into the drive Evans is looking at me like 'this is not go-- I thought it was nearby'. And, you know, its like-- it is nearby, but these are little narrow roads --

Mimi: Right right.

Greg: --the driver had to orient... and we finally get to this place-- this beautiful old pub up on top of this hill--

Mimi: Wow.

Greg: --in Sussex, on the hottest day of the year so far, underneath these trees, at these benches-- and this is an old pub, like they closed at like two and didn't open again until five and we got there at like 1:30. So we got there, we get lunch, we get a plate, and we sit out there and we work until like 5:30-6. And about halfway into this Mark's like 'we're gonna get in so much trouble for doing this'. It’s my favorite day on this set right now. literally lo and behold by about the time five o'clock, six o'clock, rolls around he's starting to get calls from his assistant being like 'they want to know where you are'.

Mimi: Right. [jokingly] 'We’re working offset!'

Greg: And we did! We got it all compiled and then we drove back to location and-- we were there when they did the actual shooting and everything. But that was, and will probably be to the end of my days, one of my most favorite film experiences, which is the part of making the movie where we got to go 'we get to go do this now'

Mimi: Yeah yeah.

Greg: You know, and that was, it was a treat. I loved it.

Mimi: I love that, yeah. And it's so great because you needed some creativity. Like a trailer just doesn't do it, so I thought that made it a lot of sense. How much fun, though, because I often hear that when people are filming in different places, you don't get to explore in the way that you would like to. So it's nice that you kind of were able to take a mini break. A one day break.

Greg: But it really was --and I do kind of mean it-- was a present.

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: I have photos from time on set, and there's a shot... the house that was used for Merrick’s apartment, is called the jura house, and it's apparently owned by some Russian oligarch, and it's a very shi-shi, fancy, you know, 800-architectural-awards house.

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: And I have a photo of Evans and me-- I think Leo took it --and we're literally sitting on the floor, in the basement, which is where all the monitors were set up, as they're filming upstairs... backs to the wall, each of us with our laptops on our knees, each of us using these, uh, rifle bags that have been doubled and tripled over as pillows. And that's the experience on The Old Guard. It’s literally [?? I’m not sure what he said, ‘doing our best’ maybe ??] and, um, yeah, so yeah. It is a remarkable-- and you know this, you made a movie-- it's a remarkable amount of hard work. You come out of the experience going-- and I’ve said this before-- once you are involved in the making of a movie, you can never walk away going 'god how do they manage to make such a bad movie?' The question is always 'how did they manage to make a movie?'

Mimi: Yeah.

Greg: The mere act of forcing this kind of bizarre storytelling into creation... is it's staggering. It defies any realm of logic... the precision required, the commitment required, the attention required, to create something that's going to exist on somebody's eyeballs for a second or two or three. Shot by shot. You know, um, it's insane.

Mimi: Yeah it is, yeah and there's so many moving parts, you know, and you're such a huge part of this one and so I'm so excited to see how well it came together. and it-- from what you could see, because you were saying 'oh, you know, everybody was close on set they were playing soccer and all these things' and it's like, you can see that it's a film that has, you know, cohesion. like it's very well put together, like you could feel that everything was in its place, like I could see you got along with Gina, I could see that, you know, you could see each part was where it needed to be, because seeing sets that fall apart-- and you-- it isn't a question of how movies fall apart and they don't, you know, go from one process to another, there's no, um, you know, synergy between the people working. But it really really did come together and I'm super super excited for you, and excited for the sequel! My my only thing--

Greg: Potential! [sequel]

Mimi: Potential! Oh I think I think that, uh, viewers are going to want more. like I said, it's a film that we do need right now and I think it's a refreshing, uh, type of thing where we can kind of just take a moment away and be lost in a film. I think that's a gift, because I find that that doesn't happen as often as I'd like it to these days! Uh, but, um, but yeah the casting, everything was beautiful, and I'm so happy for you, as a writer but also as a filmmaker now. My only quarry, my only disappointment is I was not around to, um --especially since there could be a sequel-- to at least audition for Qynh because I know there's some awesome sword work that could be coming in the future! And I'm so like-- but I'm super excited because Veronica, you know, the little we did get to see of her, she did a fabulous job! But I was like 'man I would have liked to throw my hat in for that one'. [laughs]

Greg: Gotta talk to your agent!

Mimi: I know!

Greg: I didn't have anything to do with casting!

Mimi: I know, I know, I know. No, but it's super exciting to see kind of that how it all comes together. Especially reading it, right, because of course like I said, I've read the rest of the comic. I know the new one just dropped!

Greg: Yeah, issue five will be out next week.

Mimi: That's very exciting! So yes so, uh, listeners go ahead and grab that! Get the whole thing though, so you could see it from beginning to end! Because, uh, it does kind of complement seeing the movie, you know, it complements it. You get that backstory, you kind of get the feeling for the characters in a different way, and like you said they're different mediums. Um, but both really amazing stories, and a lot of fun to, um, to be a part of. And to experience so super exciting [they both make weird excited noises] so, uh, hopefully we'll talk again next week, I know you have been going crazy with all these interviews but, um, everybody go and watch The Old Guard right now! Because it is available, you can turn on your Netflix and you don't have to wait, it's right there!

Greg: Right there!

Mimi: Right there for you!

Greg: In fact you won't even have to search for it!

Mimi: No, it's gonna be number one!

Greg: It's gonna shove it in your face!

Mimi: Yeah it'll be recommended for you, and, um, I also, uh, you know, as a filmmaker. I know that you guys don't need as big of a push because it's Netflix and all but, you know, give it a little rating! Go on to imdb and give it some love. Um, because why not? [laughs] Alright Greg, I don't want to take up much more of your time, I think you need to unwind and enjoy this. Congratulations on your film and, uh, we're super excited for it!

Greg: Thank you Mimi!

Mimi: That's all for today's episode! Thanks for listening to culture chat and hope you enjoyed the conversation.

#it was completely random whether i included the 'um's tbh #also warning greg goes on a Political Rant in the middle so if that kind of thing bothers you: there it is

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goose-books · 3 years

Photo

goose-books productions: a 2020 review

view the image in higher quality here! (open the image in a new tab to zoom in.) thank you to my dearest @yvesdot for the template

transcripts and month-by-month details under the cut! for reference, you can find my projects here :-) overall, new and old followers, thank you for another good year over here! [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your h

january

i spent late 2019-early 2020 working on 2019’s nano project, quark, aka the speculative fiction thing about new york city and prophets and dissections of the chosen one trope and gay people. quark is my second-oldest project (five years!), but it’s also probably the most ambitious, so it’s been... difficult to wrangle into place, and i didn’t end up finishing a first draft. oh, well.

enjoy a snippet that is devastatingly emblematic of everything about quark. the tone. the homoerotic tension. the ensemble cast all talking over each other. the fact that caelum has spent pretty much this entire scene crying. fun autopsy report meeting.

Marble stares at the notebook in Shade’s hands. Or maybe he’s staring at Shade’s hands. Dawn feels a little voyeuristic, so she does what she does and says a dumb and unrelated thing: “Augustus, I think this pizza-on-the-floor thing is hurting my ass.”

Augustus flutters his hands. “Sometimes nonconformity is painful.”

“At least we’re originals,” Caelum mumbles into his sleeve.

“Exactly,” Augustus says.

“True originality doesn’t exist,” Marble says.

“Oh,” Shade deadpans, “it’s going to be a fun autopsy report meeting.”

It isn’t.

february

in january i stressed myself out trying to make the plot of quark work. so in february, i decided to take some time and write something Entirely For Fun. like, entirely for fun, no rules. and. my god. how do i explain the project i started calling “third eye for the bad guy.”

it was an unholy mashup of many of my past hyperfixations, including the gone series, a tale of two cities, warrior cats, and the left hand of darkness. one of the characters was a canon scalie and one was a canon fictionkinnie. it centered around a polycule of wannabe-evil-overlord high schoolers. i only wrote like three chapters but i was lost in the sauce for all of february and then i just… like… wiped it from my mind and moved on? somehow??? one character was a werewolf and that literally wasn’t relevant at ALL

Someone was going to die on these steps.

This had been Ivy Lee Palomo’s thought last year during the all-school photo, and it rose in her mind again now. The one hundred marble stairs leading up to the great double doors of Saint Constantine Academy were the school’s pride and glory, steep as the mountain, sharp as the blade under Ivy Lee’s skirt. With the cutting wind and snow glazing the stone more often than not, with the freshmen wild and wired on their first day of their first year, it was really only a matter of time before someone slipped and cracked their fucking head open.

It wasn’t going to be her. Not when she had Doc Martens and reflexes like an electric coil. Still. Ivy Lee didn’t want to watch someone die. She didn’t get along with dead people.

march

in march, i got back to the project i’d started in 2019 - AMT, my podcast! it’s a shakespeare retelling set in a modern high school; this excerpt is funnier and also more unnerving in context. (double, double, toil and trouble...)

INDRAJIT: What the hell are you doing?

[PAUSE.]

DEE (like she’s lying): Making pasta.

[ALL THREE OF THEM LAUGH.]

NONA: That’s right.

MORA: We have the keys to Mab’s office.

DEE: We’re using her stove.

NONA: To make pasta.

DEE: Do you want some?

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

INDRAJIT: No.

april

and darkling rears its head! all of my other projects have existed for at least a year; darkling (specfic king lear retelling) is... special. it was conceived in april, when i started hyperfixating on king lear, and i still managed to write an absolutely ridiculous amount of content for it. it was like the power of hyperfixation let me speedrun the entire process. which. okay.

iv: control

They say Cressida Stayer was nine years old when she turned her hair to gold. They laid her down in bed blonde, and the next morning, the waves cascading down her shoulders were solid metal, glinting harshly in the sunlight, weighing her down, creating that odd head-cocked expression she still wears now. Nine years old. Two or three years before most people develop enough magic skills to dye a single curl. Much less transfigure their hair into precious metal.

People also say Leovald Stayer’s immediate reaction was to hack it off her head and melt it down for cash. But generally they say that part a lot quieter.

may

in may i wrote AMT episode 15, by which i mean that in may there was a day when i sat in my room with the door shut for literally five straight hours listening to the same three songs on loop as i wrote the climax of one of the plotlines of AMT. so. that sure was… a day.

ISAAC: Do you want… do you want someone to drive you home? Hawk, you’re worrying me -

HAWK (almost cutting him off): Don’t. Don’t say that. I’m here to help. With your… thing.

ISAAC (quietly): I… don’t know if you should be here to see this.

HAWK (a little louder, more audibly upset): Well - what else am I going to do? Go home and - and have my dads talk at me and - and not be able to answer them? Because I can’t? I can’t. I don’t know what to say.

[PAUSE.]

ISAAC (V.O.): I wonder if this is what he feels like, on the outside, looking in at me. Watching someone else hurting. Helpless and afraid.

He still fits perfectly in my arms. I rest my chin on top of his head and pull him close to me, like I can stop him from shaking, like I can stop anything from happening the way I know it’s going to. I bury my face in his hair. He smells so familiar. He’s so warm.

God, Hawk. I love you so much. You shouldn’t be here to see this. Something bad’s gonna happen. And you’re not the kind of person who belongs in a tragedy.

june

okay, honestly, i should talk about “night shift” here, because in june i wrote a whole short story in one night (and then foamed over it for a week), but i am still in the process of submitting it places! so i am terrified to put even a sentence of it online. instead: the other thing i did this month was to finish AMT! (sixteen episodes and somewhere around 175k, iirc, but don’t quote me.) these lines are the opener to the final episode!

RAHMA (V.O.): The combined series of sophomore year disasters stretched through November. It’s June now. It’s taken me… a long time to get this all put together. I was going to make a vlog about it, initially - well, calling it a vlog sounds frivolous. I was going to make a video recounting the whole deal. All of it. From when I kissed Avery Fairchilde to the very last night. I scripted dozens of drafts; I put together dozens of bullet-pointed lists of what to cover… and it was never enough. Because Avery and I weren’t the only ones involved. Even if I was only focused on the two of us, it wasn’t just the two of us.

So… I gathered up everyone else. The whole town of Ellisburg is still talking about the week the town went crazy, but it wasn’t just a week. There was a lot leading up to it. And I think if anyone’s going to talk about it, it should be us. The people who lived it. So here we are. The most ambitious Rahma Ashiq production of all time - at least so far.

july

every july i pause whatever else i’m doing to celebrate the birthday of aurum & argentate, twins from my oldest and dearest WIP The Mortal Realm. july fifteenth! mark your calendars. they’re princes, though argentate would really rather not be; you can read the full birthday piece here.

“Do you… plan to get dressed?” A bit of the usual humor crept back into Aurum’s voice. “Although if you want to speak to the kingdom in your underthings, by all means, you have my full support.”

Argentate scrubbed at his face. He wasn’t dressed, no, but the usual malaise hung over his shoulders like a cloak. Guilt. Nerves. The sick sense that he hadn’t done something he was supposed to. The numb knowledge that it was too late to change a thing.

“I meant to,” he said. “Get dressed, I mean.” The rest went unsaid: I have just been sitting here. On the floor. Thinking about how I should get dressed.

“Ah,” Aurum said, extending his hand. “The traditional route. We’ll save the nude speeches for the future, then.”

Argentate took his hand, stumbling a little as Aurum pulled him to his feet. He steadied himself on the closest wall, taking a few deep breaths. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. His hands found their way to the cross, again and again.

august

this summer, i wrote an entire draft of Valentine Van Velt is Dead, AKA “holden caulfield goes to exposure therapy,” AKA the weird little personal side project i keep tucked into my coat. interesting features include second-person narration from a narrator who doesn’t like the main character all that much. so reading it is kind of like the book wants to kill you? with an added dash of general melancholy.

You used to live here. That’s the thing that’s got you feeling so off.

You didn’t recognize your old house. I mean, you kind of did. You remembered that the road was on a hill. That hill felt like a goddamn forty-five degree angle when you were a kid. But if you didn’t have the address written down you wouldn’t have known it at all. It would have been just another little suburban house in rows of perfect little towns that make your skin crawl.

So now you’re in this diner looking out a gross smudgy window trying to block out the elevator music pumping through the speakers in the ceiling or whatever. I don’t know how speakers work. You’re trying to tune that shit out. The waitress comes over and catches you by surprise so you just point at some coffee thing on the menu so she’ll go away. For the record: you don’t drink coffee.

There’s a public library across the street. A little square building. You probably used to go there. The lady comes over and thunks your coffee on the table and gives you a kind of look, like she wants to know what in the goddamn hell you think you’re doing here and not at school. You sip your coffee and look out the window until she leaves you alone again. And then you spit it back into the cup because, for the record: you don’t drink coffee.

september

i spent september and october prepping for nano, so i was mostly working on darkling...

It’s late spring; still, at this time of night, on a rooftop, there’s a chill. The wind plays with the end of Ruby’s coat, with her hair. She hands the bottle off to Jasper, stares up at the fogged-over sky, wishes she were lying in Dany’s arms in Dany’s bed instead of here. Wishes, even, that Dany were the one on the roof with her. At least then they’d be cold together. At least then she wouldn’t have to imagine what Dany would say; she could just listen, and watch Dany’s flashing smile and her flinty eyes.

(She cuddles. This is another thing Dany does that Dany probably shouldn’t do, based on everything about Dany; it’s not like rattlesnakes cuddle. But Dany likes to nuzzle into Ruby’s side and rest her head on Ruby’s collarbones and toss an arm over Ruby’s chest, and hold her down like she’s worried she’ll float off somewhere. She’ll card her fingers through Ruby’s hair and hum. Even though they could get caught, even though she’s probably got better places to be - Dany cuddles.)

Ruby imagines it, momentarily, both of them on the roof together, sprawled like horrifyingly beautiful gargoyles, sharp teeth flashing, blood running hot. Up here - it’d be like they ruled the world.

But whatever. Jasper’s fun. He’s hot. He’s got a sharp tongue in a lot more ways than one. And she likes when he lets the mask down. She likes seeing the soft bits underneath. She wants to sink her teeth and nails into them so hard she draws blood. Masks don’t bleed. Ruby would know; that’s why she is what she is.

october

...though i was also in creative writing class in school, and thus ended up writing a bunch of poems of varying quality (my teacher had a real thing for poetry) and also one darklingverse short story where rory and cressida hold hands! which you can find here.

Lorelai Rory Flowers is afraid of thunder.

This is a bit of an embarrassing thing to admit, as they’re seventeen (“at least seventeen,” they like to tell people, “maybe two hundred, who’s to say?”) and generally wise beyond their years, or whatever it is that adults say about kids with too much psychological baggage. Being afraid of thunder is not a very wise-beyond-one’s-years trait. And yet the state of affairs remains: loud noises make Rory want to melt into the earth. Back when they still went to school, even the fire alarm sent them scuttling under their desk to hide.

Right now, in the elevator, all they can do is shrink into their sweater.

They haven’t let go of Cressida’s hand yet.

november

and then november of course was nano which was an adventure all the way through. (opening tumblr on the fifth day of nano to find out about d*stiel... was something.)

“Apologize to me. Or get out of my house.”

Gracen’s voice is very, very low. For a moment she thinks he hasn’t heard her at all. Then he spins, eyes blazing. “What did you say?”

Gracen watches her own chest heave. She pushes herself up off the desk, stands with the effort of pushing a mountain off of her back. Leovald is six-foot-four. Gracen is six-foot-two. In her heels, in the heels she must wear to be a professional woman, to be a lady - they are the same height.

Gracen wipes her nose. When she lowers her arm, there’s a streak of blood across the back of her hand. Fire shivers in her chest; her heart rings in her ears; her voice could cut steel.

“I said,” she says, low, slow, volume building, “apologize to me. Or get. Out. Of. My. House.”

december

and finally, the poem i posted this year! it’s called the beast sonnet, and you can find it in its own post over here (with commentary! how sexy.)

i kill the beast and drop down to my knees, my blade stained dark with blood of stygian hue, and for a moment these scarred hands shake free, and hold a world unfurled for me anew. but once-mourned victims, victors, vices find; fear winged me; now its absence strips me bare. my sword now dulls, my legs, my voice, my mind; the beast, pried from my throat, leaves no skill there. and still i hear it laugh, O DEVOTEE— O CHILD DEAR, NO GLORY WITHOUT ME.

i was quite productive this year; i have to think it was because i was avoiding things... the peak of my productivity happened over the summer and in november, AKA, college app hell. (almost done with the last applications! pray for me.)

a general breakdown of what occupied me this year:

(no, i don’t know why the “various other things” category ended up so large... i blame all the one-off projects i wrote a single page for, and also whatever the fuck happened in february. yes, i do know why it looks hideous; it’s because each of my WIPs has a theme color

thank you once again for spending some time at goose-books dot gov this year! what to expect for next year: well, i very much hope i can produce AMT... also hoping to get darkling ready for beta readers, so keep your eyes out!

#max.txt #and that's a wrap!!! what a goddamn year.#okay. breath in. tags:#quark tag #third eye tag #(i think there are like. two posts in that one?)#amt tag #darkling tag #tmr tag #vvvid tag #wow that was a lot of text. if you read all this... [blows you a kiss] thank you!#max actually writes #year in review

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7official7moose7 · 4 years

Text

Probably one of the most rushed fics I’ve ever wrote!

Yes, here it is! Ladies and gentlemen, individuals alike, I present to you..

(insert drumroll here)

A platonic shopping date between two absolute babies :)

@xgoldentigerlilyx @teyamarra @reid-and-writing I’m very sorry for the quality of this fic, it’s okay at first but then it gets really out of character somewhere in the middle and I was way too lazy to fix it so I hope it’s not too bad-

“Spencer, wait up!”

Reid looked up to see Garcia rushing to the elevator, and he held the door for her. He flashed her a smile as she thanked him.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” Garcia asked, and Reid shook his head.

“No, but I do have a book I need to finish before Sunday. Why do you ask?” the elevator stopped, and they both stepped out, making their way outside.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you’d like to come with me to the new mall down on East Street. It just opened a couple of days ago, and I wanted someone to go with, if that’s okay with you?”

Spencer thought. I don’t really do shopping. But, she did go with me to that philosophy convention. I owe her.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” he said, “Tomorrow at twelve?”

Penelope threw her fist in the air with a “Yes!” and smiled up at him. “Absolutely, I’ll be there to pick you up on the dot! Thank you, boy wonder!” she said as they neared her car and Reid waved her goodbye as he continued down the sidewalk. Breathing in the warm August air, he smiled.

…

Spencer entered his apartment and sat his bag down beside the door. It was late, around ten or so. He flicked on the lights and plopped down on the couch, grabbing a book called Crime Or Clarity by Fiona Dewitt. It was a more simple read, but Spencer was enjoying it so far. He flipped to page 305 and continued where he left off.

“It would not be everyday that Steve Goodway would find himself wondering about his place on this earth. Everything he has accomplished, everything he’s fell short of. Is this really it? Or is there more, just beyond his reach? So, on this very day, he would promise himself that he would keep an open mind and an open heart to anything that calls his name through the brambles and nettle, and he would follow it even when the path doesn’t seem so inviting.”

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

…

Penelope Garcia awoke at 9:48 a.m. with a smile on her face and a happiness in her heart. She started her day with a warm shower and sweet coffee. After that, she messaged Spencer, asking if he was still up for the mall date. He replied three minutes and twenty-seven seconds later with a “Getting ready now. :)”, and she smiled even brighter.

Garcia couldn’t wait to explore all the new stores and see what kind of crazy cute outfit they had in stock. She couldn’t wait to show Reid all the wonderful wonders of shopping and hopefully find a nice outfit for him. She couldn’t wait to convince him to wear said outfit to the Bureau on Monday.

It was now 11:37 a.m. and Garcia couldn’t wait to pick Spencer up.

…

Spencer Reid waited patiently on the couch, dressed in his usual sweater vest and button-down shirt. It was one minute and fifty-seven seconds after twelve when Penelope knocked on his apartment door, and when he opened it, they greeted each other with smiles and started down the stairs to the first floor. Penelope wore a green floral dress and a jean jacket with a dozen pins and stickers on top. Her black mesh leggings went well with her sparkly black bow and heels.

They chatted all the way to the car and kept chatting as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“So, how’d you sleep?” Garcia asked.

“Good, I read 393 pages of Crime Or Clarity before I fell asleep on the couch. You?”

“Like a baby. As soon as I got home, I poured myself a glass of wine and I was out after an hour.”

Spencer hummed. “You know, places like a mall are much more hectic during the weekends, especially near holidays. Why do you choose to go during this time rather than waiting for it to clear up?”

Garcia laughed. “I like people watching, it gives me inspiration and a sense of peace, knowing that those people are out living their lives despite all the nasties out there doing bad things.”

“Actually, statistics prove-”

“Hey, let me have this. That’s all I ask of you,” Penelope said. Spencer giggled at her, and she gave him a smug smile.

Before they arrived at the mall, Garcia suggested they stop for lunch after she noticed both of their stomachs were growling. They ordered sandwiches from the nearest deli and sat in the shade of the umbrella on the patio outside the shop.

Afterwhile, it started to get crowded, so they took it as their cue to get going. It was 1:13 p.m. when they finally found a parking space close to the entrance of the mall.

…

“Which store first?”

Spencer shrugged, knowing very little about any and every shop in the building. He looked around and pointed to one that looked interesting.

“What about that one?” he asked, and Garcia followed his eyes to the Way Out Thrift across the hall. She gasped and looked up at him. “You have great taste,” she said as she led him in.

This thrift store had everything.

Spencer looked around, unsure where to start or even what to look for. Garcia immediately wandered to the clothes section, rummaging through racks of shirts and dresses. She noticed him standing there, so she waved him over and showed him a big beige sweater. “What do you think?” she asked, holding it up against his chest to measure. He took it and examined the fabric. “It’s nice, but this wool is coarse, which can irritate the skin. A finer wool would be better because fine wool sheep produce wool fibers with a very small fiber diameter, usually 20 microns or less.” he rambled on, giving Garcia time to find a light purple turtleneck. “This one’s cotton, what about this one?” she asked, again measuring it on him before he felt it.

“Cotton fabric is considered better, though some people disagree because of the pesticides. Some cotton is grown with genetically modified seeds and sprayed heavily with Roundup, in which the primary ingredient is glyphosate, which could lead to cancer. But I don’t think it’s that bad,” he said, “In fact, I really like the feel of it.”

Garcia smiled. “Good, because this thing is going in your closet!” she said, and Spencer blinked. “I’m paying for it, don’t even think about it,” he said and Penelope gave him a look. “My treat?” she tried to convince him, but he refused. She stuck out her bottom lip in a fake pout, which made them both laugh.

After a little more looking around, Penelope and Spencer went to check out. Garcia ended up with a pretty yellow shift dress that Reid suggested, and a small woodpecker figurine for her office. Reid stuck with the purple turtleneck and picked up an additional sweater vest for his collection. Garcia suggested that he try something out of his zone, and he said he’d think about it.

“Where to next?” Spencer asked as they wandered down the hall, passing tons of shoe shops.

“Unless you want a new pair of kicks, maybe we could go up the escalator and see what they have up there,” Penelope joked.

“Escalator it is,” he said.

…

“Did you know there were thirty-seven deaths in 2014 in China caused by escalator accidents, and a report found that more than twenty-six thousand escalators had safety issues that hadn’t been repaired?”

“No. No, I didn’t know that,” Garcia said, shifting closer to Reid, “And I don’t think I needed to know.”

A couple of people looked at them suspiciously when he said that, and Spencer almost felt bad for saying it out loud. Almost.

Once they made it to the top, all the smells were like a smack in the face. There were multiple food courts, including a donut shop and an icee stand. There was the new car smell, along with some kind of strong fragrance, most likely from a perfume shop. Enough to give them both headaches.

“Jeez, it’s like aroma central up here,” Penelope remarked. Spencer nodded in agreement.

There were way less clothing stores on the second floor, but there was one store that stuck out to Reid.

“What’s RetroWear?” he asked, pointing to the sign above the entrance. Garcia hummed. “I’ve never heard of it, it must be a new store,” she said.

“Wow, a clothes store that you’ve never heard of? So rare.”

“Don’t start with me, genius,” Garcia warned with a smirk, “Let’s go check it out, I’m sure they have some absurd piece of luxury clothing in there somewhere!”

Before Spencer could react, Penelope grabbed his wrist and dragged him in.

And oh boy, did that store have the good stuff.

Sweater vests here. Ties over there. Pretty floral dresses in between. And a whole section dedicated to Absurd Pieces Of Luxury Clothing.

“Oh. Em. Goodness,” Garcia whispered, “It’s like the shop gods just read my mind.”

Reid was also pretty impressed, and for the first time that day, he was the first to immediately begin looking at all the outfits. Garcia followed after him, showing him expensive Gucci purses and handbags she found while he presented to her a fuzzy orange sweater that he said would match her orange slice earrings. She gladly accepted it and gave him a nice pair of sunglasses in return.

After a bit of rummaging around in their sections, Penelope and Spencer decided that it was time that they go through the luxury clothes section. Spencer showed her a green and purple romper with plastic rhinestones lining the neck and sleeves, which made her laugh and kindly decline his offer to buy it for her. Next, she showed him a tiny crop top with a band logo on the back and a weed leaf on the front, claiming that it was definitely his style and that she was going to give it to him for his birthday.

But the best thing they found that day was Spencer’s secret bad boy look.

…

“Hurry up, smart boy! I wanna see that smokin’ hot emo side of yours!”

Spencer sighed from inside the fitting room. “I don’t know, Penelope, it’s not really my style,” he said as he examined himself in the mirror, and Garcia scoffed. “That’s the whole point! Now get out here and let me see it.”

Finally, after a bit of contemplating, Spencer unlocked the door and stepped out.

Garcia gasped.

He wore a red-and-black striped t-shirt and black skinny jeans with rips at the knees and a big leather jacket on top.

“Well?”

“I love it. I love you. I don’t care what you say, I’m buying that entire outfit for you and you cannot stop me.”

“Penelope, you don’t have to-”

“I want to. And I am. And you’re wearing that into work on Monday.”

“What- No, I can’t! Everyone’s gonna look at me like I’m crazy!”

“Then I’ll wear that ridiculous romper you showed me earlier to make us even.”

Reid rolled his eyes. “You always wear that kind of stuff, they won’t notice,” he said, throwing in a “No offense” after she glared at him. “Oh, everybody in that building knows I don’t do rompers. Trust me, they’ll notice,” she joked.

After some of convincing, Spencer let her buy the outfit for him, but he wouldn’t let her get the romper. He did, however, manage to pay her back with a fancy new pen to add to her collection.

…

It was now 4:46 p.m. and they were both exhausted. Garcia began to argue with herself about wearing heels around the mall of all places, and Reid’s legs, too, were getting tired. They decided to eat dinner in the food court since neither of them were ready to end the fun just yet.

“These tacos taste funny,” Spencer said, and Penelope shrugged. “Mine tastes fine. Did I order the wrong one? I’m so sorry if I did.”

Spencer smiled. “No, it’s fine. I just haven’t had tacos in a while.”

“That’s a sin. I have vegetarian tacos almost every saturday.”

They both laughed, the sound ringing all throughout the mall. The smiles on their faces were like those of little kids on a playground, and they were living for it.

“Fun fact, most experts state that the first taco was actually invented somewhere between 1,000 and 500 B.C. At the time, the taco was more of an edible spoon, however the first recorded reference to the word taco came about in the 19th century. The first mention of the word taco in the United States didn’t come around until 1905.”

“How do you know these things?”

“Lots of history books. Or this brochure,” Spencer giggled, handing to Penelope the small foldable. She rolled her eyes with a playful smirk. “You’re very funny.”

“Thanks, I try my best.”

“Why don’t you ever joke like this in the bureau?”

Reid shrugged. “I guess it’s because I know that there’s someone in danger out there, and I just can’t bring myself to laugh it off like everyone else.”

Garcia averted her gaze. “Huh. I never thought about it that way.”

“N-not that it’s bad to joke around on the job, I know it helps some people and I’m not putting you down for it, It’s just—different with me I think.”

“Oh, I get that. I do it for the same reason I decorate my desk, it helps me cope with all the horrible things we see on the daily.”

There was a moment of silence, until Spencer spoke again, “How did we end up talking about this?”

Penelope laughed, and suddenly everything was back to sunshine and rainbows. “You mentioned the history of a taco.”

...

Soon, it started to get late. Reid and Garcia had stopped by her place for a couple hours to watch a movie and finish off the wine that she bought out of impulse last friday. It was 7:56 p.m. when Garcia dropped Reid off at his apartment, and she gave him a friendly hug before saying goodbye.

“Oh, and, Spencer?”

“Hm?”

Garcia smiled. “You don’t have to pretend that you don’t like the outfit. I know that look when I see it, and I can tell that you’re secretly excited to wear it on Monday.”

Reid felt a light blush settle across his face. “Thanks, Penelope.”

“No problemo, genius boy.”

And with that, Spencer entered his apartment and sat his bag down beside the door. He flicked on the lights and plopped down on the couch, grabbing Crime Or Clarity by Fiona Dewitt off the coffee table. He flipped to page 698 and continued where he left off.

“Goodway would smile wide, wider than he has in a very long time. He would realize then that he doesn’t need this world, and this world doesn’t need him, as long as he has his good friend Mick. Mick, who cares for him, who enjoys his company, and who will go to the ends of the wretched world to be there for him.”

And that night, Spencer Reid also realized that. And he did indeed smile wider than he has in a long while.

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thomaslightwood · 4 years

Text

A Kind of Magic

Chapter two: Don't lose your head

Don’t lose your head.

No, don’t lose your head.

Hear what I say:

Don’t lose your way.

Don’t lose your heart.

No, don’t lose your heart.

(recommend, but not necessary to read/hear the song)

• •

As sad as it sounds Alastair often thought that lies were everywhere.

There was no escape from them. His mother lies. Layla. His father. Charles. His so-called friends. The Clave. Alastair probably was the biggest liar of them all.

His relationships were all about lies. He lied his mother and sister. He and his mother lied to Cordelia. Even his affair with Charles revolved around lies and secrets.

Alastair looked at his lover who dressed. Charles said that he can't stay for the night and now he was leaving, to return to his full of politics world. That was all he thought about actually - his career.

Alastair often wondered what happened with them. At first it was new. Exciting. Alive. Alastair believed with all his heart that he was in love. Then it was just... nice. Stolen nights here and there, even a few days together. Several hours a day maybe.

Now he didn't know what it was. But he felt that Charles was far from him. It wasn't that something definite has changed. But rather Alastair began to notice things that firstly just bothered him a little but which now were huge issues for him.

Like how Charles almost never tells him where he goes. Or the way he often made decisions for both of them without asking. How he always expected Alastair to be there for him but rarely was there for Alastair. His almost two-year engagement with Ariadne. Alastair was so sick of all this.

And he couldn't help but question himself: if their love was like this from the very beginning, was it actually love in the first place? Wasn't love supposed to send you high? To be more selfless? To be more... truthful? Because this love had started to feel like another lie in Alastair's life.

“Will you be at the ball tomorrow?” asked Alastair while Charles was straightening his shirt collar.

“Maybe,” said his lover. “But I'm not sure. There is unusual demon activity in South London that is bothering the Clave and there will be a meeting about it. I want to show my skills there.”

Alastair felt such a strong annoyance that he surprised himself. Charles always talked about this. To show everyone his best qualities. How good he was. How he could handle every situation.

You will go there to show your abilities again, Alastair thought. But you won't be beside me in the first event I am, in this new town where neither me nor my family don't know almost anybody. You won't be there when I need you. Again.

Alastair guessed there was something in his gaze because Charles stoped dressing for a moment and looked at him.

“What's wrong with you?” He rised an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Alastair said sharply. “I'm just so happy for you.” Vexation dripped from his mouth.

Charles looked at him irritatinly.

“By the angel, Alastair,” he said. “You are so moody lately. Calm down. Everything I do is so you and I can be together.”

Alastair closed his eyes for a moment.

Lies. Sweet lies that Charles knew Alastair wanted to hear. Or maybe Charles also believed it? Who knows. But this was a broken promise even before the words to came out of his mouth.

Don't lose your head, he told himself.

“Good,” Alastair said coldly. “You can leave now.”

Charles was already with his coat put on. He glared at him.

“Are you irritated? Really?” he snorted. “I just can't attend one event. It's not a big deal.”

“Didn't you say that you can't stay tonight?” Alastair looked right into his eyes. “Then go.”

For one long moment everything was quiet. They looked at each other intensely. Alastair held his breath, looking at his lover. Charles was fully dressed, ready to leave but was frozen in place. Alastair held the sheets below him so hard that his hands ached.

He wanted Charles to stay so badly.

“Just this one time,” Charles whispered.

Lies, lies, lies.

He turned and after a few seconds the door was quietly closed after him.

Alastair closed his eyes to stop the tears.

• •

The next morning at breakfast, Cordelia looked at him while drinking her tea. Alastair knew she wanted to know what was bothering him but he looked away. Layla was already too concerned about their father. Alastair wanted to protect her by it but his efforts were pointless. But that didn't mean he had to add his problems to her's.

“Alastair joon,” Sona stopped him after breakfast. “Are you alright?”

Alastair's heart ached.

“There are nothing to worry, Mâmân,” Alastair assured her. “Just couldn't sleep well.”

His mother gave him worried look.

“The ball is after a few hours, darling. Are you sure you're fine?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. He didn't want to worry his mother. She was exhausted enough by all this drama with Father. They all were. “I'm fine.”

After this she and Layla went to choose a dress for his sister. Alastair went straight to his room. He sat in front of his desk and put few papers.

He had thought about this all night after Charles left. It hurt. Really hurt. But Alastair decided it the moment Charles turned his back to him that night. He wasn't sure what to say in the letter. He had a feeling that if he starts to write what bothered him about Charles' actions he wouldn't stop. And probably would find new ones. So he tried to keep it simple. It took him three or four drafts but finally the letter was good enough. What was important was there, with no fancy words and fake promises.

Alastair wrote many things in the letter but most important was maybe that he said to Charles this is over. Their romantic relationship was over. He wasn't sure he wanted to had any sort relationships with him anymore but this was enough for now.

Alastair was hurt but he also felt relieved. He was free of one of his lies.

He sealed the letter and call one servant to send it to Charles' house. He looked at the clock on the wall. The ball was soon.

• •

Sona, Layla and him were in the carriage, almost at the Institute.

“London is so beautiful. I can't decide what we should see first. I'm sure the Herondales can recommend what to see,” Cordelia said, smiling at the buildings they were passing. “I can't wait to see Lucie,” added a little bit quieter but even more excited.

“You said this ten minutes ago,” Alastair rolled his eyes. “And you met her yesterday.”

“Yes, but it was for a while because it was already night when we arrived in London,” she frowned at him.

Alastair opened his mouth to answer but didn't have the chance.

“Children,” Sona said impatiently. “Stop it already. We are here.”

When the Carstairs entered the ballroom, Alastair felt already bored. He didn't like this sort of events. Too much people talking about too much pointless things.

He didn't even made an effort to look for Charles. He knew he wasn't here.

Tessa Herondale introduced them from group to group. He remembered only half of them. At the end they stopped. His mother started a conversation with Gabriel and Cecily Lightwood. Cordelia chatted with the girl beside them. Alastair wasn't paying much attention though. He didn't want to be here but it was important.

“Who’s the boy dancing with Lucie?” Cordelia asked.

“Ah, this is my brother.”

Even before she could finnish Alastair turned and searched the dance floor. This was Barbara Lightwood, by the angel, how could not think that her brother would be here. There were many people he didn't know, dancing and laughing, some of them in groups, talking. But there weren't many people over 1.90 meters high. And he found him. Sandy hair, hazel eyes and broad shoulders.

Thomas Lightwood.

Alastair felt like someone kicked him in the stomach. Paris immediately appeared in his head. These short beautiful days with him. The endless conversations about music, books and history, the walks. Thomas' hand. He long wondered if he made that tattoo after all.

When the days ended he carefully tried to forget them. They were pure memories that should be locked and protected at all cost.

At that time Thomas Lightwood was a guilty pleasure. Now he was even more.

At this moment the dance ended and Lucie spotted her future parabatai. She said something to Thomas who fast looked at their way. Their eyes met.

Lucie hurried to his sister and hugged her. Alastair just couldn't look away from the other boy. Thomas slowly approached them, without breaking the eye contact.

When he finally stood in front him, he smiled shyly. Alastair didn't realize how much he missed his smile.

“It's good to see you, Carstairs,” he said.

For his surprise, Alastair returned the smile.

“Good to see you too, Lightwood. You aren't taller from the last time we saw each other, for everyone's relief.”

“I suppose,” Thomas said, his eyes focused on Alastair. “So how are you? I heard that you were in Devon before coming in London?”

“That's right,” Alastair said. Lucie took Layla by her hand and they both went to talk with some girls. The Lightwoods and Sona was a little far away. Alastair and Thomas weren't alone but the atmosphere between them was definitely more private. “In Cirenworth, a Carstairs house there. It's close to one town, Chagford. Small but nice. I should take you to see it some day.”

Thomas smiled at him so brightly. Alastair wanted to know what he said to make him smile like that. He would say it all the time.

They continued to talk. Alastair probably was supposed to dance with some ladies. Perhaps Thomas too. But neither of them did it. It was far from their minds. Alastair felt like he was in Paris with Thomas again. Just they, talks about art and no one in the world.

Don't lose your head, Alastair thought. Don't lose your heart. But he was afraid it was probably too late.

• •

A/N: From here the fic slightly will follow ChoG plot. And a little mention: I'm not sure if the Carstairs were really in Devon before arriving in London but why not 🤷

People who wanted to be tagged: @christophers-lightwood @panicatwallmaria @thomaslightwoodx @thomastair-paris @lavanyalol @lucexherondale @tom-carstairs @a-depressed-nephilim @vintage-morning-wine @ab-cedario @christopherlightwood @crying-is-your-latest-fashion @a-very-gay-spider

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nat-roman0ff · 5 years

Text

the rest is history

requested

---

word count: 2,390

warnings: banter, terrible memory and uncontrollable fluff.

---

Shawn remembers the day you first met quite fondly. You, however have always remembered it a little differently. Shawn swears it was his charming nervousness that swept you off your feet immediately. Meanwhile, you were convinced for the first half hour you were talking to him that he was a serial killer; all awkwardly charming, never taking his eyes off of you. Not to mention the glasses that looked like they were decades too old for him to be wearing.

It was something the two of you could never agree on exactly how it happened. And now, at your engagement party in front of all your friends and family, you were about to share the story of how the two of you first met.

“That is not how it happened, Shawn,” you roll your eyes.

You can’t stop staring at the shiny engagement ring on your finger. Shawn’s cheeks are pink from champagne, and he gulps down the last bit in the flute before turning back to the crowd of people sitting before you.

“No, no, no,” he waves his hand, “I wrote a song about it! Of course I remember what happened.”

Your friends and family laugh around you, and you grab the microphone from Shawn’s hand, “he really does think that he knows everything. For inquiring minds; this is how it all went down.”

---

Of course it had to be raining today. The one day you had off from work, the one day you had to get all your errands done, the one day you had to yourself. It’s Sunday, mid summer, and it’s hot and humid as Hell outside. The rain is probably a much needed break in the unbearable weather, but it was just so goddamn inconvenient.

You’re already running late, this was of course after the hot water in your apartment stopped working halfway through your shower, getting shampoo in your eyes, stepping in cat puke, and burning your thumb while making breakfast.

It was barely noon and you already wanted this day to be over.

You luckily leave the apartment in one piece, your umbrella barely keeping up with the pouring rain around you. You skip through and over puddles and thank yourself for wearing rain boots today. The first stop of the day was the local book store and coffee shop. It was your favorite place to go, especially when you were feeling a way about life and wanted to unwind.

Really, you were just avoiding your responsibilities for the day.

It’s crowded when you get in. There’s some type of poetry reading happening that has everyone’s attention. You step to the cafe side and wait in line, trying to catch up in the group chat between your friends. Someone’s someone broke up with them and they were ranting about the reasons why. You lock your phone and slide it in the back pocket of your jeans, not bothering to even start with all that drama.

“Next,” the drone barista says.

You approach the counter, “hi! Medium iced coffee with almond milk, please.”

“It’s a grande,” they reply.

You raise an eyebrow, “huh?”

She points to the board behind her, “it’s not a medium, it’s a grande.”

“It’s a whatever I want to fucking call it because I’m the one paying,” you retort.

The person behind you in line snorts. You look back and he’s covering his mouth to stifle a laugh, a bemused expression across his face.

The barista rolls her eyes, “whatever, that’ll be $4.”

“It’s normally $3.50.”

She squints her eyes, “there’s an upcharge for almond milk.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s supposed to be $3.50.”

She groans, “ma’am, if you’re so pressed about fifty cents then you probably shouldn’t be in a coffee shop.”

“I am not hard pressed for fifty cents,” you plant your hands on your hips, “and I don’t appreciate your attitude. But fine, it’s four dollars,” you mimic in a snotty voice.

You reach for your wallet in your purse - only to realize it’s not there.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, “forget it, I must have left my wallet at home -”

“I’ve got it,” the guy behind you places his card on the counter, “I’ll take a medium black hot coffee.”

The barista rolls her eyes, “it’s a grande.”

The guy smiles, “I know.”

She turns to make the drinks and you take a step to the side, “thanks,” you mutter, “I’ll have to Venmo it to you or something.”

He shrugs, “don’t worry about it.”

You’re both silent as you wait together at the end of the counter for your drinks. He adjusts the glasses on his face and you can’t help but feel like you’ve seen him somewhere before but can’t make the connection where. There’s an S-shaped curl that hangs in front of his face, like it’s meant to be there but really isn’t.

The barista practically slams the drinks on the counter before muttering, “have a nice day,” in her droll voice.

“It must be exhausting to be that miserable,” You mutter under your breath.

He hears you and chuckles, blowing on the little hole in the top of his coffee cup.

“Sorry, I’m not usually like this, I swear,” you apologize, “it’s just been a day.”

“It’s eleven thirty in the morning,” he deadpans.

Your eyes narrow, “it’s been a rough morning.”

You slide into the seat of the small bistro table beside you and take a sip of your coffee, “oh course this has fucking cream in it. Stupid Bitch -”

“What are you doing here this fine Sunday morning?” He asks, grinning across the table from you.

You glare at him, “honestly? Nothing. Avoiding life probably. What about you? Frequent the bookstore often? I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

“Probably have,” he says, “I’m Shawn,” he reaches over the table to shake your hand.

“Charmed, I’m y/n.” you return the handshake, “why are you drinking hot coffee on a ninety degree day, are you a serial killer?”

Shawn bobs his head from side to side, “surprisingly no, although I do share many of the same qualities as most.”

“That’s unsettling.”

He leans forward, “I’m also really bad at flirting.”

You grit your teeth, “oh ouch, that’s what that was? Oh honey…”, you place your hand over your heart.

Shawn bows his head, “that bad, huh?”

“The serial killer vibes were high, I thought you were going to stab me in the neck with a spork or something.”

“You’re funny,” Shawn replies.

“It’s mostly a defense mechanism,” you pip.

He raises an eyebrow, “from what?”

You take a sip of your drink, “guys in bookstore coffee shops that act like serial killers. Those glasses are straight up Jeffrey Dahmer style, my friend.”

“Are you always like this?” He asks.

Your brows scrunch together, “like what?”

“You just...I don’t know. It’s like you have an answer for everything. You always have to be the one that has the better last word.”

You scoff, “okay, Weirdo. You’ve known me for five minutes.”

“Maybe I’ve known you your whole like and you’re now just meeting me.”

You lean forward and he follows, “you see, that is some shit a serial killer would say,” you reach for your bag and stand, “have a nice day, Weirdo. Thanks for the coffee.”

You’ve almost reached the other side of the bookstore when you pass the magazine rack. A familiar face graces one of the covers; it’s Shawn. That little aha! moment happens in your head and you pick up the magazine, holding it in your sightline to compare to Shawn who is still sitting in the coffee shop section of the store.

You look back and forth a few times before deciding to go back over. It doesn’t take long for you to cross the length of the store back to him and return to your seat.

“I know who you are,” you say, plopping your coffee and purse on the table.

“Now who’s the serial killer?” Shawn quips.

“You’re the Shawn Mendes,” you wiggle your fingers for extra emphasis.

Shawn gulps, “you didn’t have to use the spirit fingers.”

“I’ve been to one of your concerts. My sister got so excited when you came on stage that she threw up all over herself and we had to go home. I want my seventy-five bucks back,” you jab sarcastically.

“Only roughly eighteen more coffees to go,” Shawn winks.

You fold your arms across your chest and lean back, staring at him, testing him. You have so many questions and you’d never met anyone famous before but he just seemed too goddamn normal to be a celebrity. Maybe that’s why people liked him so much.

“Now that that’s over with,” he starts, “what do you want to do next?”

You purse your lips together, “sometimes when I need a good pick me up, I head to the Health and Wellness section to find the sex books and laugh at them.”

Shawn snorts, “what are you, five?”

“Are you in or not?”

“I was going to be in regardless of what you said I just didn’t want to be the one that made the plans,” he confesses.

You stand and roll your eyes, “c’mon!”

A half hour later you’re in the stacks of the Sex Health section and trying to stifle your laughter with your hands. It’s childish, and ridiculous but you can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard. You also can’t remember the last time you heard a book title as hilarious as Penis Genius.

“I want that tattooed on my forehead,” you giggle.

Shawn covers his mouth with his hand, “I’d pay you so much money to do that.”

It’s then that you notice how close together your bodies are, your knee is resting against his thigh and his shoulder brushes yours every time he takes a deep breath. You feel oddly relaxed around him, like you’re spending time with an old friend instead of someone you’ve barely known an hour.

The laughter dies down and you catch him looking at you. It’s not an uncomfortable glare, it’s not like he’s staring to try and figure out what you look like under your clothes. He’s watching to mark your tics, to memorize the wrinkles in your face and searches his brain to try and find a way to describe the color of your eyes.

Or, at least years later that’s what he’ll claim he was doing.

It doesn’t make you uneasy, and you find yourself drifting closer to him despite the already limited space between the two of you. Your faces are so close you can feel his breath fan your skin, his eyes closing as he draws nearer.

“Do you always wear these glasses?” You ask, plucking them off his face.

Shawn’s left stunned as you lean away from him and put on the frames, “dude they’re fake?! Worst disguise ever, Mendes.”

“Oh so now we’re on a last name basis?” He asks.

You nod your head and push the glasses up the bridge of your nose, “guess so. Why do you wear them?”

“A defense mechanism,” he deadpans, but can’t hide a creeping smirk.

“From what?”

“Folks tend to stay away from people who look like they’ll axe murder their whole family.”

You suck the last of your coffee from the straw, “that’s very true.”

“I’m glad it didn’t work on you though,” he smiles.

Your heart is still fluttering from the almost-kiss. You can see the red in Shawn’s cheeks deepen, like he was embarrassed at what almost happened. You’re not usually this flighty - to meet a stranger in a bookstore and decide to try and make out with them within the same hour. It just felt, different with Shawn. It was a type of comfort with another human being you didn’t know existed.

Soulmates, is what he would end up telling you on your first anniversary.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” Shawn asks, pulling the glasses off of your face and putting them back on his own.

“I did.”

Shawn raises an eyebrow, “and now what?”

“Want to come over?” You blurt out, “and like...I don’t know watch a movie or something? It’s a shitty day out,” your eyes avoid everything but him, “sorry you probably already have plans-”

“I’d love to.”

You look up and he’s grinning wide at you, his honey brown eyes sparkling and that stupid little S-curl that you’ll eventually grow to love handing in his face, “really?”

He nods, “of course. Only if we get to watch shitty scary movies though. Truly the best thing to watch on a rainy Sunday afternoon.”

You clutch your chest, “be still my cold beating heart, I wouldn’t have suggested anything less.”

Shawn chuckles and stands, offering you his hand. He pulls a little too hard and you crash into him, causing him to stumble backwards into the bookshelf. Once he steadies himself he wraps an arm around you.

Neither of you speak on your way out. Ever the gentleman, he holds the door open for you when you leave. It’s raining harder now, and the two of you do your best to huddle under your small umbrella. You walk the couple blocks to your apartment not really saying much. There’s a weird anticipation in the air and you keep catching him taking fleeting glances at you when you aren’t paying attention. His pinky hooks with yours a couple times. It’s not quite to hold your hand, but more so to say hey, I’m here.

When the two of you reach your building, Shawn stops you before you take the first step onto the stoop.

“What?” You turn, he has his hand on your arm.

He takes a step closer, the step helping the height difference between the two of you now at face level. Shawn lets the umbrella drop but you’re too focused on the intensity in his eyes to care about getting soaking wet. His hand is gentle as it holds your face.

“I’ve never met someone like you before,” he says, the rain causing his hair to stick to the sides of his face.

“Ditto.” Is all you can manage.

Shawn leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss, and the rest is history.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x reader

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ziracona · 4 years

Note

What has been your favorite ilm chapter to write? Your least favorite? Do you have any interesting fun facts that were in cut pieces? I love this fic and the research put in is astounding. You put so much love into this. I'm glad to have been a reader :)

Thank you so much for asking this, and I’m really happy you have liked it! : ) Researching all kinds of wild stuff has been one of the most fun parts. (I’m holding the start of the answer to each question you asked, bc I talked about the first one for a while lol).

I do have a favourite chapter! I think to read, it would be a lot harder question, and there’d be a bunch of chapters tied, but as an author, my favourite chapter is most definitely Speak for the Dead. I have a lot of favourite moments and chapters, but that’s the one I’m most proud of. There’s a really rare thing in writing I call “script perfection,” which is not like, a perfect script in comparison to other scripts, it just means the version of the script that got shot/published was the best version of that particular script there ever could have been. It’s incredibly rare, and very hard to do. Even with films and shows I love, usually there will be seconds, sometimes minutes, off and on, that are the best version of those seconds there could have ever been. And the rest of it is great! It’s maybe the second or third or eighth-best it could have been, and that’s still super impressive--like man--eigth-best is still so close to 1st, eigth best is freaking phenomenal. It’s something to be really proud of. But that’s as high as it almost ever gets. For anything. Only extremely rarely is an entire script at 96% or above on script perfection. (I would say for reference that Galaxy Quest and The Incredibles are two such films).

It isn’t the most important part of a script or a story at all. Not by a huge amount. The quality of the story itself is. I have plenty of films that never hit 90% or above script perfection that I still prefer over films that did (like, Galaxy Quest is an amazing film, and I’m in awe that it hit that level of refinement, but I still like The Two Towers, which definitely did not, better. Because Sam’s speech at the end of it is enough to power me for a whole year). But it’s still such a rare thing. And god, it’s hard. Any kind of media is done on some kind of budget (be it financial or energy or both), and time constraint, and also it’s just not easy to do. Again, true-final-draft achievement (which is probably a better name for this bc it’s less confusing) is far from the most important or valuable aspect of a film, or play, or book, and it’s not necessary to make a story amazing. But it’s still always /so/ cool to see. It’s cool to see a nine minute continuous stretch of it even, on screen. And out of all the chapters I’ve written, the only one I think hit true-final-draft at least 96% or above, was Speak for the Dead. And that’s not embarrassing or anything. It’s wild. And I’m super proud of that. I’m proud I got even one. Because a lot of even my favourite books don’t. They just have perfected scenes, and a lot of them, but are not the best draft they could have been. Which does absolutely nothing to negate their worth as phenomenal books, but. I’m really, really proud of Speak for the Dead, and very happy with myself for having been able to do that at least once. I kind of treasure that.

It’s also a special chapter to me, because I had it only very loosely outlined/planned for at all, and it kind of came together on its own, and everything just came together and fell into place just right, and this chapter I had been really unsure of before starting turned into my favourite one in the entire fic. I like what I write, and I enjoy reading it myself, but there’s a line in Speak for the Dead where Tapp is trying to explain everything to Meg, about himself and his past and his family, and he’s been going through this like, awful mass of confusion and trauma and guilt and regret that’s all come to a head in this one day, and he’s found out who Amanda is and can’t deal with that and the person he knew, and the way Sing died, the choices she went on to make, and there’s so much even he doesn’t understand about how the world is falling apart around him, but somehow he figures it out enough to say it to Meg. And he has a line: “You’re supposed to stay late and work the extra eight hours overnight to catch the killer so somebody doesn’t die; you’re not supposed to go home to your family and give your kid a hug. It’s not as important, in an equation. It was my responsibility. And I didn’t get that the other job had its own set of rules. That the cop’s supposed to let the bus with his partner fall, but the dad’s supposed to let the fifteen people go and save his kid—he’s supposed to go running through crowded subway tunnels chased by gunmen, consequences be damned, to get them away from where his kid’s hiding. I didn’t get it. I don’t know why. I loved him right, but I didn’t act like it, because I thought I was doing the right thing. But if everybody’s just numbers, you lose anything that matters, no matter how high the numbers go up. And you don’t realize until it’s way too late that you do just as much good really helping one person you signed on to protect as you could have ever done bouncing off the lives of a hundred people who go on to be the next Jigsaw.”

And like. I fucking love that line. God. It’s such a hard thing to articulate, what he’s going through in that moment, and I try, but I think I often don’t do as good a job. But every time I read that last line it’s like a gut punch. And I really love it. How the fuck could you possibly feel after going through the experience he’s just had? It’s such a specific, indescribable kind of big, whole-world-view devestating.

There’s also a lot of really sweet moments with Meg, and Adam drugged and injured but trying really hard to help, and it’s a super understated chapter in a lot of the moments? Tapp’s one of my favourites to write, because of the way he thinks. He tries so hard to be lawful good in a world where there’s just no law at all anymore. And he’s older by far than anyone else, and thinks about the world that way. Honestly, it’s one of the most serious chapters. It’s less graphic than say Proven or The End of the Line, but it deals with some very not remotely fantastic and not pretty themes. It’s heavy. But I like the way it tells itself. I enjoy working in references when they make things fun, or better, or more meaningful, and I got to do that a lot. Plus, it gave Ace and Tapp a bunch of one-on-one time they didn’t really get on-screen as much in any of the rest of the fic, but I really loved it. The way they try to look after the people they care for, and how they understand each other. I just really fucking loved that chapter. Also, Tapp beat someone to death with a reverse bear trap that was still attached to his head so he could save Meg from dying in a way that would be super lastingly traumatic, and if that’s not the most metal thing I’ve ever heard? I really love Tapp. And I love that he sticks to the things he does. Meg never learns what Amanda was going to do to her, not in fic, not after. And Tapp does change how he does things are talking to Meg at the end of that chapter. Tapp’s the one who immediately says they can’t go public with any information on Rin until she’s passed on, even though it could really help them prove their case and hypothetically better protect the world, because he’s not willing to see a kid forced to revert to being violent and feral against her will in self-defense, or locked up in a government black site to get that. He did good. Life has not been kind to this poor man, but thankfully, Meg Thomas has.

Least favourite? Way harder. Hmmm. Always whichever one I wrote most recently 😂

In complete seriousness, I don’t think I have one? I have like 6 I consider “slightly-less-interesting” than the rest, but I don’t have one I hate period, or just dislike a lot. Uhhhh. If I had to pick one right now, I’d say Core Essentials, because I haven’t read it in over a year and don’t remember it as well as many others, and of the small number of chapters in the “Damn, been a hot minute, huh?” group, it’s the one I remember the least. This rating may change next time I actually read it, lol.

Hmmm. Interesting fun facts in cut segments. In the original draft for Shrouded, Claudette went into Philip’s basement and got a really good look at the other side of the wall, through one of the cracks, and saw the Entity and almost gave herself a panic attack. The other side of the basement wall was described as looking like the sun, like just looking at light, but only at first, and then there was movement like a snake coiling or some huge creatuer deep underwater sliding across your vision, too big to see, but alive in there in the middle of the light, and moving around, and it horrified her. It was extremely creepy but pretty cool.

The original draft for The Wraith included Philip experiencing fragmented audio memories from Signifying Nothing/his time with Vigo & co. while he was mostly unconscious. It was really cool and I forgot because I haven’t read it in forever, but it hinted at /way/ more of the plot to those past events. I really liked the draft, but ended up changing it into what was published because I’d never done anything with his memories before, and I didn’t want to disorient the reader too much (probably a good call, but it was still a neat scene in the OG form).

It’s not in the fic, but canonically, after leaving the survivors camp at the end of The Wraith, Philip came up with his plan to leave himself a message in the bell, and then called the Entity. Trying to talk his way out immediately failed, and it was shitty to him and pissed him off, and Philip had considered what might work on something like the Entity before calling it, and knew he was dead either way, so he tried to fight it. More to see if it would work than anything. He knew he would forget it even if he did, but sometimes impulses lingered, and it was possible if it worked, it would help him think of it again. He used his blood and drew a protective symbol against demons on his palm without it noticing, then rushed it, and it wasn’t scared of him so it didn’t give a fuck, but he smacked it with the charm and that actually succeeded in burning its talon (very little, but enough to cause it actual pain) and it flipped out and got extremely angry, and immediately stabbed him through the skull, which is why he returned with that chunk of his mask gone and has a scar on his forehead now. Originally, I was considering writing some of the events between The Wraith and Dawn from Philip’s POV, but decided it was much better sticking with the survivors and their uncertainty completely. Got to live in the anxiety baybeeee.

I’m sure there’s more but you activated my trap card asking about Speak for the Dead - a special interest- and I already made this long, so I should stop for now. Thank you again so much for asking! I hope my answers made sense are we’re at least kinda enjoyable to read. 💙💙💙

#ask #anonymous #in living memory #in living memory (fic)#writing #ilm spoilers #this was so fun and im glad i had an excuse to go writing meta haha. the one part of college i miss :’-)#thanks! 💙 it was really sweet. and fun to answer!#long post

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who-is-olivia · 5 years

Text

Track 4. Two Ghosts

Harry Styles x OC x Taylor Swift

Harry reunites with Olivia after he settles in a relationship with Taylor Swift. [4.5k]

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: substance abuse, mentions of panic attacks, mental health struggles, infidelity

January 2013

“I just left the keys with Nialler, mine and El’s, tomorrow we’ll come pick up the rest of my clothes” Louis explains over the phone while Harry looks at the New York landscape through snowy windows.

After the successful tour, there was no more financial reason to share a flat with Lou, and before that there was not a good healthy climate to share it either. He felt terrible seeing him every day after they shared such intimate moments. They’re still close friends, just not as much as they used to be, and it hurts. He misses the days when they would play video games on the couch and diss each other’s clothing, he misses the companionship they shared. In fact, looking back to this time last year, there’s a lot of things he misses. His anonymity, his mum’s house, Oli...

Boy, does he miss Oli.

Few months after her first big hit debuted, launching her album and promoting their tour, she became too stressed. She felt the hate and the press lurking around her like vultures, she cried about small things, she smoked three packs a day, she became aloof and apathetic. One day, it was all too much.

Since she decided to live with Frank her mother has shut her out, they haven’t been on speaking terms. Right after the tour, when her band started racing up the charts, a tabloid wrote an article with her mum spilling all of her life story. Oli’s always been very secretive about her family history, Harry knew the basics but she seldom talked about it. So one day she woke up and everybody, in the whole world, knew and judged her for it.

Looking out the window, the New York landscape disappears and he’s back in her hotel room holding her by the shoulders, her eyes puffy and vague, her tear-soaked face was catatonic. She had been kneeling on the living room unable to move or talk for hours and it scared him. She was absolutely broken, and no amount of love declamations and tears were enough to bring her out of that loop.

Harry took her to a mental institution that day and never saw her again, all he heard from Frank was that she went back home to make peace with her mother. That was back in September, now it’s January and he still haven’t heard from her, so he’s trying to move on. He’s been hanging out with Taylor, she’s good company – and, most importantly, a good distraction. They’re set to travel tomorrow and enjoy some well deserved vacation but he hasn’t packed swimsuits or anything, so he’s going out to buy some after he’s done with Lou.

“It’s alright mate”

“Okay, I’d hand it to you in person but I was thinking about taking El to meet my mum”

“Wow, that’s huge!” he smiles sadly, he never got to introduce Oli to his mum. Bet they’d get along just fine. “You think you’ll be back in time for rehearsals?”

“Can’t miss that, Simon’d just kick my arse”

He chuckles, “Right, see ya then”

“See ya” they both hang up.

Although Taylor offered to host him at her private loft in Chelsea, Harry opted to book a hotel room on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, next to where Olivia used to live. So, when he goes out for a morning jog, he always walks past her building and the pub where she used to work. This morning, he packs up to go shopping and leaves the hotel, reaching a point where, if he makes a turn, he’ll reach the tube and go shopping right away, if he goes forward he’ll pass in front of Uncle Jim’s Pub, but he’ll have to walk another twenty minutes before he finds another station.

It’s a pointless ritual, going over to Uncle Jim’s. She’s never there. But he can’t help that fear in his guts of missing an hour on the day where she might just be. So, despite all logic, he goes forward.

He soldiers through the cold morning stomping over melted snow until he passes over the pub. He looks through the window and this time spots something odd, or rather, someone: a man in a dress sitting over the bar.

He comes closer, rubbing the glass to see better. He spots Jim sitting on one of the tables, his signature cane beside him. They’re both looking at the same spot on stage but he can’t quite see it. Slowly, he opens the door and immediately hears the soft piano tiles playing something harmoniously crude but melodically so, so sweet.

There she is, beautifully onstage playing the piano forte, her back perfectly straight, her signature braids are gone, her hair a small afro surrounding tanned cheeks. She looks sober and... peaceful, all her nervous agitation is gone, she looks healthy.

He hides behind the bar, bumping into the portraits on the wall: Uncle Jim with Brian May and David Bowie, Oli and Frank sitting on Elton John’s knees, Paul McCartney watching her play the piano. He remembers Oli talking about uncle David and uncle Paul but he never saw it like this, her sweet toothless smile alongside some of the biggest rockstars in the world. She has a lot to live up to, maybe he didn’t realise that. He didn’t realise a lot of things.

For a while, Oli was just the thrill of the chase, someone untouchable who graced him with her affection. But then they went on tour and suddenly she wasn’t just a fling, she was a friend who stood at the backstage every single show, who talked to him until late hours on the tour bus, she shared her most vulnerable side and he loved it, he loved her. Those stolen kisses and quick fucks became meaningful, they became friends then they became lovers. That’s why it was so hard to watch her crumble.

The portrait he bumps smashes on the ground making them all turn, including Olivia.

It’s like she’s seen a ghost. And so has he.

“Harry” she gasps, getting up from the stool. Jim and Frank both turn toward him with big salutary gestures.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Oh, don’t worry! How’ve you been? It’s been a while!” Jim nods, unable to get up.

“Jim, we better give ‘em some room” Frank, always the expert on reading the room.

“No, no, no need, we’re going outside” she indicates for him to follow her out the door. Before she walks out she notices Frank’s weird looks, she sends one back signaling it’s alright in their own mental language and pushes Harry out the door.

Harry is still appalled, trying to make sense of things while his eyes are assaulted by the winter morning’s sun. She pulls the door until it’s shut and, when she turns to leave, she finds herself being cornered against the glass by Harry. She stumbles back before being welcomed into his embrace.

He sighs in relief, feeling her hair tickling his cheek as it used to do. He can’t help but smile at the sensation of her body pressed against his and her gentle hands making their way to his back. “I missed you so much”

“I missed you too” she sighs through a smile. “I’m so sorry for the silence”

“I understand” he kisses the top of her head, “how’re you feeling?”

“Fulfilled, relieved... it’s like there’s a huge weight off my shoulders” she steps to his right, “You’re heading this way?”

“I- I don’t know”

“Jesus, Harry, let’s just walk” she mocks, “How are the boys?”

“They’re fine, Zayn and Perrie just moved in together”

“Nice” she swallows dryly, hadn’t she gone away maybe she and Harry would be living together.

“Niall is going out with someone, he won’t tell us who but we know” he chuckles, “we’re making bets on it, wanna join?”

“Sure” she replies, still thoughtful.

Noticing her discomfort, he hurriedly switches the subject, “I guess things with your mum were alright”

“It was fine, we just needed some quality time to put our thoughts in order. And Frank helped a lot, you know, getting her to know him made all the difference” she smiles earnestly, “He’s the fucking best, I couldn’t have done it without him”

“Blimey...”

“What?”

“I just... nothing, it’s silly”

“You’re silly all the time, tell me!” she taunts him with a smile.

“I already know what you’re going to say” he warns, “but sometimes I wish you were talking about me” he shrugs his shoulders.

“You’re such a-“

“-jelly baby, yeah I know!” she laughs, a laugh he was dying to hear.

“- such a jelly baby”

“Oli” he cuts that sweet sound, “I need to know... did you ever get to hear what I said to you the day you passed out?”

“No... sorry Haz, I just zoned out. What was it?”

“No, it’s nothing”

“What? Why are you so secretive today?” she continues to taunt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t expect to meet a lot of people today, least of all you...” a thought crosses his mind, cutting his speech, “When did you arrive?”

“Just this morning, I got a night flight from Rio-“

“Were you going to call me? After all that happened?”

Olivia ponders for a moment, afraid of giving him an honest answer. He’s always been sincere, even if it hurt her, now it’s time to return the favour: “I don’t think so, Haz... It’s not because I don’t care about you or anything like that, it’s just...” she looks for the words but this time they’re hard to uncover, “I’m feeling fine now, but I can’t forget the fright I gave you. I don’t remember what you said or what was actually going on but I have a clear image of you just” she crosses her arms over her collarbones, “holding me so hard I almost choked, I can’t imagine how that felt to you... and I don’t want to put you through that again. I’m fine now but I don’t know how I’m gonna be tomorrow, I still feel the old me lurking just around the corner. Feeling fine is new territory to me, but I don’t know how you fit into this”

He nods, “Let me know when you do?”

She grins, “Of course! Yes, of course!”

And then she does it again, hugs him like she used to, pressing her whole body against him and nestling her head on the crook of her neck. He wants to turn her and kiss her so bad, but he can’t do it. That’s what they used to be, not who they are.

“I better get back, Frank must be losing his shit... how long you’ll be around?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow, me and... hm... Taylor”

“Taylor?” she frowns. Fuck.

For all the tabloids and gossip websites, she has to hear it from him. Why can’t she just use her phone like a normal human being and read the fucking news? “Taylor Swift? We’ve been hanging out...”

“Oh...” she gasps in surprise.

“You didn’t say anything, I assumed-“

“No, it’s alright” her words don’t align with her face, “It’s ok Harry, really”

“You don’t seem ok”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all” she compensates with an awkward smile, “I’m happy for you”

“Thanks” he replies with a sour taste, he can feel when they’re not being honest to each other, in this cases cordiality is worse than just lying. Lying just hides something, cordiality shoves the thing in your face and acts like it’s not there.

“Oh, just in case I don’t get to see you anytime soon” she reaches into her sleeves and takes a colourful bracelet, “just a little souvenir from Rio, I was going to keep it in my bag but I thought I’d lose it”

“Thanks Oli, that’s lovely” he watches as she ties it around his wrist.

“Well it was great to see you, have a nice trip tomorrow!” she pecks his cheek and leaves.

Just as she came, she went away. Not a moment with Oli ever feels wasted but they sure do feel short. Without any options, Harry goes on with his day chores which now include buying swim gear for a trip he doesn’t want to make anymore.

He lifelessly picks random trunks and floral shirts, taking fewer than he’ll actually need then takes a cab to Taylor’s place. When he arrives the Chelsea flat, she’s reading a book on the couch, her perfect blond hair on a ponytail.

“Hey, stranger!” she looks over the backboard.

“Morning!” he comes over and kisses her temple, but she calls him back with a finger and presses her lips against his. “What’re you up to?”

“Not much, just finishing this” she shows him a copy of The Hunger Games, “I’m loving it. Everything’s already packed, I guess we’ll just wait around”

“I could use a nap, jet lag is driving me mad” he scoots over the couch and pulls himself a pillow, laying his head over Taylor’s lap. She rests her book over his chest while mindlessly playing with his fingers. While she’s distracted, he notices something about her face: even without any makeup, Taylor’s lips are still tinted red, which contrast beautifully with her stark blue eyes. Despite having a beauty of her own, she reminds him so much of Lou. For the second time today, he feels an uncomfortable void on his guts after remembering fondly someone he loved.

He turns his gaze away, it hurts so bad to be haunted by these people who feel so close and vivid but at the same time feel like a distant memory, a ghost. He talked to Louis on the phone, he just saw Olivia on the flesh, Taylor is right in front of him caressing his hand but they feel so foreign. Maybe they’ve changed a lot ever since that idealised moment when they fell in love, maybe Harry’s the one who’s changed.

“Hey” she whispers, “what’s going on in your head?”

“Just thinking... do you still talk to the people you used to date?”

She chuckles at he spontaneous question, “Not on purpose, I always bump into them at these big events and of course everybody knows, so I have to be polite. If I even blink wrong the whole world will be like: Taylor Swift is just a bitter old hag”

“Come on, now”

“It’s true! If I talk to them, I’m fake, if I don’t talk to them, I’m rude, there’s no winning for us girls. You guys can do whatever you want!” she pokes his side, “If you see your ex and talk to them you’re oh, so polite and considerate, if you don’t talk you’re really discrete-“

“I get it” he nods in agreement. “But that’s not what I meant, it’s like... can you still be friends with people you used to be more than friends?”

“You and your weird questions” she mocks him lightly before sighing and finally answering: “It’s weird being friendly with someone you shared so much intimacy with”

“Yeah” he nods.

“ Just seeing them reminds me of something that I used to feel but I can’t talk about it, so I always end up tiptoeing around it and I... I hate it. I’m usually very straightforward but in these tight corners I never say what I really mean”

He nods silently. If he could see Oli again, what would he say? There was so much he wanted to say, in fact he already said it but she wasn’t able to listen. It’s so frustrating...

Taylor and him spend the day together lounging around, making out and napping. At some point they nap in a hammock, her body cuddled against his while the night falls outside. She sleeps very quietly while he doesn’t sleep at all, just stare at his new bracelet and ponders upon the last words Oli said today: ‘just in case I don’t get to see you anytime soon’. In a few weeks he’ll go on tour, her band split and they have no projects mapped out, when will they actually see each other again? On tour, they spent every day together except the ones when they’d be tired of each other and just spent the day apart. It’s so upsetting not knowing when he’ll see her again, that feeling just turns to a small pit of fear in his heart. What if his story with Oli is already over? It can’t be, he still has so much he wants to do, so many places to take her.

But coming back from his daydream he finds himself laying with another girl. Shouldn’t he be planning things with her? For fuck’s sake, they’re about to take a romantic trip together! Still, looking ahead to his future, he can see nobody but Olivia. She’s left such a gap in his present and in his future he can’t stand the possibility of not taking a chance.

Trying his best not to disturb her, Harry gets up from the hammock and walks to the kitchen. The fridge light washes the room white as he finds the rest of the wine bottle, there’s just two gulps left so he decides to take the whole thing. When he closes the fridge, surprisingly the room doesn’t go dark as the moon shines furiously through the windows. Another memory hits him: when he and Oli hid on the roof of their hotel in Phoenix. She took a bottle of rosé and a few blankets, cuddling with him while trying to remove the cork. She said “I hope you like a good rosé, I hate red wine”, and ever since then he lost the habit of drinking red wine... until today.

As if to defy her memory he drinks the wine anyway but somehow the taste feels repugnant. Even now, she still haunts him. He looks over to Taylor and an enormous guilt befalls him. She is incredible, a good company, but his heart still beats for somebody else. He hits his head against the fridge in shame but it won’t change how he feels... so he decides to seek counselling.

He calls Zayn at least three times but not even a friend in need can dissuade him from deep slumber. So, he heads to the balcony and calls his second option, the one he wants to avoid but can’t anyways: “Hey curly, what’s going on? It’s a bit late here”

“I know Lou, I’m so sorry I just couldn’t help it”

“It’s alright, I’m up already. What’s going on?”

“I saw Oli today, she’s back in New York” he blurts at once, looking back at the balcony door to make sure Taylor’s still asleep.

“That’s great man, cheers-“

“Yeah, except I’m with Taylor now and I can’t stop thinking about Oli”

The line goes quiet for a moment. “Oh... that’s bad”

“I don’t know what to do, mate”

“Harry... I should tell you to stay with Taylor, you know, ‘cause she’s a nice gal and she helped you out of a tough place, but...” he smiles sadly, “I know if I tell you this is the right thing to do you’ll do it, even if it hurts you”

Harry snorts, “I probably would”

“Exactly, so I can’t tell you that. Listen mate, I... I fucking adore you, you’re one of my best mates and I know what happened between us hurt you”

“It’s alright now, Lou”

“I know it is, but I don’t want to be that wanker to tell you ‘just forget your feelings and do what you have to do’, you know?”

He chuckles, “Sure mate”

“See? So, in my humble opinion, you should go for Oli. I know you’re crazy ‘bout that lass... and, you know, we won’t get everything we want in life, specially us if we keep the band thing going. The least you can do is have fun with someone you love”

“Thanks, Lou”

“Anytime curly... ‘though if you can call a bit earlier”

“Right, right... bye mate”

Olivia tosses and turns on her bed. The flat is so quiet when Frank’s not home, it’s unnerving, specially when she’s emotionally wavering. She gets up and away from her tormented thoughts and searches for one of her vinyls, she could do with a bit of music to drown it all out. She finds ‘Rumors’ from Fleetwood Mack and places it on the speaker, swinging to the melody of the first track and letting the tune fill her ears. She starts to assemble a cigarette while keeping a distant eye on her phone, she’s been trying to avoid it ever since the breakdown but seeing Harry today was very triggering. A spark of curiosity hits her but she refrains, last time she spent too much time on her phone she ended up in a psychiatric hospital.

She finishes rolling her cigarette and lights it, getting up and singing along. It’s a good song, but not good enough to distract her from the temptation of her phone.

“Fuck it” she reaches the phone and searches for Twitter. Turns out Frank deleted it so she has to download it again, letting the anxiety take her reins as nervous tears cloud her view. Sighing in frustration, she logs in her secret account and searches for Taylor and Harry. “So stupid, so fucking stupid” she puts it down.

Oli takes a long drag, holds it for a while then let go, letting one single tear fall down in self pity. Unnerved, she takes the phone back. She looks at the search results: Harry and Taylor walking down Central Park with Baby Lux, kissing after her midnight show in Times Square, talking at a restaurant. And of course, where there is a new girlfriend there will be comparisons:

@directionfever: Thank god he’s moving on from his drug dealer.

@bluejayway: my boy Harry looking like a prince with that new chick, he finally getting what he deserves

@styyles_xo: That’s the smile of someone who ain’t playing nurse anymore and’s finally living <3

@larryxx: taylor aint all that but at least harry is free from that fucking pr relationship

Oh yes, the PR argument. Of course Harry and Olivia were arranged by a group of public relations managers in order to promote her career, as if she couldn’t possibly fall in love with him just for the sake of it. And boy did she fall graciously in love with him. It felt so strange seeing him this morning and just not squeeze his cheeks and give him a kiss, she didn’t even feel like the same person. Now he’s going away and all she wants is to fuck all logic and reason and just get him back like nothing ever happened. But of course, everything happened. She made a choice to stay away after she came back, now she has to deal with the most uncomfortable consequences

Before she can fall deeper into that self-doubt abyss, there are knocks on the door. “Frank? Did you forget the keys?” she asks wiping her tears.

She opens it to find Harry.

“Haz?” all coherent thoughts evade her, “W-What’re you doing here, it’s past midnight already-“

“Did you, hm... did you see the moon?” she frowns at him but not completely dismissive, “It looks just like that night... bloody hell Oli, do you remember that night? On the roof?”

“Yes, I remember” she chuckles.

“If I close my eyes I can see it clear as day, I remember every single day I spent with you clear as day, it’s so clear I can almost touch it, love” he sighs shyly.

“Harry...” she gasps.

“The first night on the bus! Do you remember it?”

“Harry I had a breakdown, not amnesia!” she laughs before noticing the typical agitation on her hallway and the neighbors paying attention to their exchange, “Shit, come on in”

“What I’m trying to say, the best way I can is... I have this very vivid memory of you and I thought that’s all I’d ever have. But when I saw you this morning... I thought we still had a chance” he reaches out for her, before slowly recoiling at her lack of response, sitting at the couch’s arm rest. “Please say something?”

She quirks her head, “Is that Frank’s shirt?”

He looks down at the plain white t-shirt and frowns, “This?”

“The one he gave to me and then I gave it to you?”

“Hm... yeah, did you hear-“

“I did” she smiles shortly, “I just don’t know what to say, I mean I was just here bawling my eyes out thinking I’d never get to see you again and all of a sudden you’re here saying all these things!” her voice cracks. She stops, takes a deep breath and continues: “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say”

“You could say: ‘I’m really, really in love with you and I want to try again’” he mimics her lower pitched-voice while pulling her closer by the hem of her shirt. She giggles at his little tantrum, pacing closer until his chin rests between her breasts. Without another word, she strokes his curly locks of hair and holds him close agains her bosom. He nuzzles a straight line from her sternum to her collarbone, feeling just a tinge of her cologne. Every crawling touch feels like he’s desperately trying to remember how it feels to have her heartbeat singing in his ear.

He pulls her shirt collar down and the loose fabric slides revealing a bit more of skin and a couple more tattoos. He runs his lips over it, feeling the sweet taste of her skin just as it used to be. Looking up, he sees her eyes lightly shut, her parted lips lit by the moonlight that invades the living room. He remembers when having her like this was enough, when he felt truly alive. Olivia is still everything he really needs, the rest is the rest. She’s not a ghost, she’s not a reverie, she looks, sounds, tastes, smells and feels so real to him, it’s impossible to desire any other incarnation of her other then the very present one.

“Haz” she sighs in a whimper, pushing him away a bit. She tries but she can’t escape his looming eyes. “I know I have no right to ask anything from you... “ her courage suddenly evades her, “but I don’t want you to go”

He cups her cheeks in a small comforting gesture, “I won’t go anywhere”

“What about Taylor? She must be so upset with me”

“Believe me, you’re not the one she’s upset with, it’s ok” he dismisses it, leaning in to kiss her lips passionately. “I’m right where I want to be” she smiles and kisses him back.

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