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isagisyoichi · 3 years

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PINKY STAR (RUN) :｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

SYNOPSIS: isagi as your boyfriend

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: isagi yoichi my boyfriend of many several years

WARNINGS: swearing? i think idk i forget also yah pretend they all go to the same school and stuff. also horribly self indulgent if u couldn't already tell

A/N: if you remember my old one delete it from your memory it was literally so bad help anyways the re-up because my boyfriend deserves better. also i really like this one and i feel like it’s more in character for him :P lol i've had this in my drafts for like, ever <3 but also my last post for a while because i have ap exams and my sat soon :P

FOR: the anon that asked me where my original isagi bf hcs went :’)

after the initial awkwardness of being in a new relationship fades and you two become comfortable with each other, a relationship with isagi would be like dating your slightly awkward best friend who you make out with sometimes.

like, i don’t really see isagi being high maintenance, so i feel like a relationship with him would definitely be on the relaxed side, but still romantic, you know?

isagi’s inner monologue is so funny and he definitely lets his thoughts out to you. it makes you laugh to see your usually friendly-to-all boyfriend have his moments, too.

you guys are one of those couples that give each other a look when someone’s doing something weird in public #telepathicconnection <3

but, isagi’s really such a sweetie with you. i know user isagisyoichi may be slightly biased when they say this, but believe me when i say that isagi’s 100% boyfriend material.

walks you to class whenever he can. always either holding your hand as he listens attentively to you complaining about school.

writes down things he feels are important about you in a digital note entitled “y/n 💗,” so he can remember them in the future.

isagi's used to talking to all kinds of people, so even if you're not the most talkative, he can adjust with no problem.

and he’ll always entertain you about whatever stupid conversation you wanna have.

kinda basic with pet names. babe, baby, dork (he would, i don’t wanna hear it), are his usual rotation.

randomly compliments you/says these really romantic things out of nowhere because he can’t control himself and often blurts things out.

“yeah, of course, when we get married, i’ll-”

“when we get married?” you inquire as you cut isagi off. you two have never discussed marriage, just but the thought of isagi wanting to spend the rest of his life with you is enough to make your head spin.

isagi’s eyes go wide when he realizes what he’s said. damn his mouth that moves faster than his mind.

swallowing hard and taking a breath, isagi says, “y-yeah, when we get married,” further affirming his statement with a nod, albeit a bit of a nervous one.

now both of you guys are flustered LOL.

likes to sit his head in your lap and have you play with his hair, while you two talk or just sit in silence.

such a good listener, perfect person to rant about anything with. he’s very understanding, he’ll hold you if you need him to, wipe your tears if you’re crying, give you advice if you need it, just overall so sweet.

also always knows when you're sad because of his intuition. isagi encourages you to open up to him, but ultimately doesn’t force you, just lets you know that he’s always there for you <3

(that's kind of lie because isagi does pry a little LOL, but he means well)

takes care of you! nags you a little, tries his best to make sure you're not doing anything stupid, and if you are, that someone responsible (him) is watching you, looks after you when you’re sick, etc.

gives you his jacket when you’re cold (he’s been waiting to do that his whole life bro LMAOO), carries your things, always texts you good morning and good night, just overall sooo good to you.

but as soft as he is for you, isagi does have this tendency to get these random spouts of confidence, so sometimes he’ll say or do something really bold out of nowhere.

like, he’ll suddenly grab your waist and pull you closer to him, or he’ll kiss you out of the blue. the flustered expression that rests on your face for a change always makes him smirk *heart eyes*

in general, though, isagi's still kind of awkward sometimes regardless and does say or do things that make you go "???" and make him be like "why did i do that" LOL he's so cute though <333

he’s pretty basic with dates, usually opts for things like restaurants, walks in the parks, movie nights, or stuff like that, but they’re still really fun!

but, if you ever want to do something out of the norm, he wouldn't be opposed to it, either. but, you do have to tell him ‘cause he's not a mind reader lol.

(okay but, one time, isagi tried to watch a scary movie with you because he wanted to do that thing where he wraps his arm around you during the scary parts, but HE ended up being scared instead 😭)

isagi’s the type to put your name with a heart emoji or the date you guys started dating in his instagram bio LOL

y/n 💓 IHS Forward #10 ⚽️ *insert some soccer quote about grinding*

it’s a bit middle school, but you let it slide because you know he just wants to show you off <3

study sessions are normal between you two but, you guys always get bored or distracted halfway through and start watching youtube or something LOL.

it’s canon he’s a thigh man lol, so if he ever sees you wearing an oversized shirt, especially one of his, with shorts, isagi will literally short circuit in real life.

he keeps his hand on your thigh when you guys cuddle that day, tracing patterns on your skin, or just squeezing it every now and then.

in general, though, isagi likes poking at and playing with them whenever they're out <3

once, isagi wanted you to do that trend on tiktok where he sits between your thighs and stuff, but he had no idea how to bring it up LOL

so, isagi just watched tiktoks of it in front of you and hoped eventually you would get the hint 🙄

and you did, thanks to his incredible lack of subtly. he doesn’t even care when you giggle and tell him how bad he is at being slick, isagi got your thighs around him, he won!!!!!!

takes a picture (or two or three) to savor the moment.

(even though he could literally just ask you to do it again in the future, but whatever, i guess)

when you’re dating isagi, the team comes with him too LOL

they’re always snapchatting you pictures of isagi when they’re hanging out without you, with stupid captions like, “look how sad your boyfriend is without you 😞”

isagi’s not even sad in the picture, he’s just confused as to why they’re shoving a camera in his face 😭

isagi one hundred percent attempts to get you to run the mile with him during gym if you don’t already.

“babe, just try!” isagi pants, as he catches up to you and your friends, as you guys are still on your second lap.

admittedly, the effort is cute, but beloved, i hate to break it to you- i will not be doing anything of the sort.

he will sit down or walk around with you after you finish the mile, though. if he’s not already playing soccer lollll.

when he does choose to go with you, expect exclamations from the team about how isagi “abandoned us for his little relationship” 👎

isagi’s receiving love language is words of affirmation (also basically canon LOL) so, he really values the compliments you give him with his whole heart.

you could tell him how his hair looks nice in the morning, and isagi will think about it all day.

whether it be about how cute he is, or how talented of a player he is, isagi really is happiest when you praise him <3

speaking of soccer, isagi has this tendency to get lost in the moment and talk your head off about some soccer related tangent that probably makes no sense to you.

his eyes light up and his voice is just oozing with passion for what he does as he goes into detail about how he made this crazy goal at practice while you stare at him with the biggest heart eyes ever, adoring his dedication.

and of course when isagi realizes he was rambling, he apologizes profusely for “boring” you, like the gentleman he is.

but when you reassure him that he could never bore you and that you want nothing more than for him to go on, isagi begins to feels lightheaded due to his adoration for you <3

if you're the type to go all out when it supporting isagi at soccer- like make one of those corny signs, yell from the crowd, wear his spare jersey to games, isagi will physically have to withhold his heart from jumping out his chest.

he's a little embarrassed that you're doing all that for him, but the effort means soooo much to him.

and speaking of soccer, it would mean a lot to isagi if you not only supported him at games and stuff, but expressed an interest in learning more about soccer as a whole, too.

you know, learn a little more about the game on your own accord, ask him to teach you how to properly play, or even challenge him to a one on one, do stuff like that, and he’ll literally be head over heels for you. well, more than he already is.

(he always goes easy on you on your guys 1v1's and he thinks your efforts are adorable, no matter how much you may or may not suck)

he'd repay the effort and try to get interested in whatever your hobbies are!

also, you can get him to do almost anything if you pout and beg hard enough, you’re literally so hard to say no to in isagi’s eyes <3

isagi’s the type to not realize when other people are flirting with him LOL

he just thinks they’re being nice (unless they’re being straight up) and i don’t think he would really process it because he’s so focused on you romantically, if that makes sense.

once he realizes you’re jealous, isagi apologizes earnestly, reassuring you over and over again that you're everything he could ask for and that he would never intentionally try to hurt you and all that jazz.

although, i will admit, sometimes isagi’s kinda smug when you're jealous, especially when it’s over a dumb reason 👎

however, when he’s jealous i feel like it could go one of two ways-

on normal days, isagi would just stand there to “intimidate” the other person, maybe cough a little for emphasis until they go away lol.

but on days where he’s already mad/filled with adrenaline/or someone’s really not taking a hint and you’re visibly uncomfortable- oh boy, it’s like a switch flips in him.

has those same fiery eyes he has during the climax of a game. the energy he’s exuding is dead serious, and that alone is enough for the person bothering you to go away. not bad for a man that’s only 5’8 🥰

adding on, isagi doesn’t take any shit about you, ever. even if it’s from his friends. usually isagi’s very neutral and doesn’t actively try to start conflict, but there are some things he’ll always defend and you’re one of them.

isagi always listens/watches/reads/etc whatever you recommend him (on that note, please recommend him good anime because isagi’s out here willingly telling people his favorite anime is darling in the franxx), even if he doesn’t necessarily like it LOL

you could show isagi objectively, the worst song ever and he would be like “yeah, it was good babe!” (it was not)

also does the same thing when you bring him shopping with you, like he's absolutely NO HELP 😭

you could try on the ugliest sweater known to man and he’d like “you look nice 🙂” pls be honest isagi, you can say it’s hideous!!!!!!

but isagi’s also being somewhat truthful in his statement because he does genuinely think you look nice in everything <3

also loves when you wear his clothes- always feels a mixture between pride and slight shyness?

kinda lol idk but overall, isagi really is sooo happy you wanna show him off that much, especially when you're wearing something of his around his friends :')

he says “i love you” first, no doubt.

he’s a bit nervous when he does because he doesn’t know if you’ll reciprocate, but he really does love you and he feels like he physically can’t hold it in anymore.

“i promise you don’t have to say it back!” isagi reassures anxiously. “i know it’s a really big commitment, and if it’s too early for you right now-”

“i love you, too.”

#queued #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #isagi yoichi #isagi #isagi blue lock #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi headcanons #isagi fluff #isagi imagine

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apenitentialprayer · 3 years

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Any advice or readings for someone who would like to get back into Christianity but is scared to? And who finds it hard to believe?

I grew up in a Christian household (kinda- my dad was religious and we sometimes went to chruch but there was also a lot of turmoil in my home, so while we were religious we weren't exactly RELIGIOUS. If that makes sense.) and God used to be a great comfort for me. Back then, I think I used to think of Him and Jesus separately from actual religion. I believed for the most part, and I prayed, and it would make me feel better.

My first doubts of His existence was in a 9th grade science class. For obvious reasons. I remember feeling really depressed about it. That was almost 9 years ago. I've struggled on and off with my belief since then, but within the last few years, it seems I've just completely lost my ability to believe anymore. I have a lot of bad things in my life, a lot of bad things have happened TO me. I suffer with chronic major depression as well as a disability I got after graduating high school.

The thing is, despite my doubts, I've tried renewing my faith but when I began getting too deep into it, I got scared. I feel like I'll never be able to fully commit my life to God and after hearing people say that unless I do that I'm doomed or whatever, it frightens me. So I ran from it all. And now I'm back to square one, only this time I'm not sure if can get back in. If I can believe again.

Sorry if this ask is all over the place my thoughts are scattered at the moment! And btw I'm aware I be putting a lot of pressure on you to help me find God again or whatever but please don't feel burdened. You can lead a horse to water but can't force it to drink and all that haha

Hey, anon. First and foremost, I want you to know that I am praying for you. And no matter what decisions you make, what path you start going down, I will continue to pray for you.

Since you asked for a reading, I would really recommend Mere Christianity, which goes over the basics and offers a little bit of a defense for major Christian doctrine - though if it's specifically science stuff that has the doubts coming in, I don't know how helpful it will be in that regard. I might recommend The Problem of Pain, also by C.S. Lewis, if you're okay with at least being open to some pills that are difficult to swallow.

I'm now going to offer three pieces of advice; and if they're not helpful, feel free to ignore them.

First, it is okay to live with conceptions about the world that are in tension with one another. Very few people have thoughts running around their head that are completely consistent and non-contradictory. We're human, with divided loyalties to different values, and limited in our perception. That does not mean that we shouldn't be looking for truth; but we don't have to fit into neat little ideological boxes, and we definitely don't have to be certain about every little thing about a lifestyle in order to start practicing the basics of that lifestyle. If we waited until we were 100% certain of a course of action before starting that course of action... well, there would be a lot of things in life that wouldn't get started. Second, there will be times, even among "religious" people, where God doesn't seem particularly real or active. The spiritual life is unfortunately not all sunshine and rainbows. I know that there are definitely times where I struggle to live as if I believe in a God. But the thing about faith is that it is not quite synonymous with belief. Even if I have my doubts, I can still have faith; one can still live their life as if there is a God without being one hundred percent certain there is one. It's the act of surrender, of placing your trust into this idea who is hopefully not just an idea but a living Person, that is important.

Third, and most importantly, it's okay to keep it simple for now. If this desire to renew your faith is overwhelming, or if you get nervous or scared at the potential gravity of this, that's okay. But you don't need to look at this as an all or nothing thing yet. Start slow. If you want to do more, by all means do more, but maybe start with five minutes of prayer every day. Talk to God. Tell Him your doubts. Tell Him your frustrations. But also talk about your day. Sit there silently and just think of Him, if nothing comes to mind. Faith is a relationship, and sometimes it takes time to get comfortable with relationships, right?

#spirituality #religion #asks

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bbyboybrock--archived · 3 years

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Happy New Year (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* Can you do one where they are strangers and meet each other during a new years eve party and then end up kissing each other when the ball drops and make it super romantic (not in covid times) pretty please

Written: 2021

Word Count: 2,040

Warnings: Swearing, mention of being roofied, breakup

Masterlist

I sit in the uber, waiting for everyone to get out. Maybe they’ll be too excited about the party to realize that I went home. Maybe I should escape out the other door and disappear into the night. I didn’t even want to come out tonight in the first place. After the year I’ve had, going to an influencer party is the last place I want to attend. Unluckily for me, my best friends were tired of me staying in my apartment all day, every day, and refused to let me ring in the new year alone. Sadly, this meant that I had to go with them to a party because my apartment gave off “depression vibes” and that “wasn’t the move” for 2021. That’s the only thing that I agreed with them on, the vibe thing, not going to a party.

After nearly a year of quarantine and processing a breakup, my place is a bit of a disaster. If it wasn’t for Janie ambushing me every day last week to help/force me to clean up, my apartment would still look like that cave where the grinch lives— minus Max. There were various alcohol bottles collecting dust on the counter. Not in a “she’s spiraling very rapidly” sort of way, but in a way that you could tell that I had a rough few weeks and the occasional wine night with the gals. There were boxes, mostly from March and April, that I still had yet to throw out after impose buying a bunch of stuff. My closet had turned into my bed because that was the only safe space that wasn’t cluttered with food packaging or tainted by memories that no longer bring me joy. I hadn’t properly seen my floor in months until we pulled back the layer of filth. I forgot that I had carpet. Still, after all that, I managed to make videos every week without fail.

“Y/N, c’mon, you’re not escaping this time. Let’s go so you can forget that asshole and that backstabbing bitch.” Persephone begs as she pulls me out of the car. Once out of the car, she adjusts her long, dark brown curls and smooths out her dress before reconnecting to her boyfriend’s hip. They both match with their gold and black outfits. All of my friends and their significant others match. Ophelia and her girlfriend are wearing silver and blue while Janie and her boyfriend are wearing maroon and gold. They all look like gods and goddesses and here I am wearing green and sliver on my own. Could I be anymore single?

“I’m not going to do it, I was just thinking about it. Don’t worry. I have to get footage for the vlog anyway. Gotta prove that I did something other than stay home this year. My fans are getting concerned.” I pull out my camera and get a few clips of everyone.

“Might as well get some pictures then so people will believe you.”1 Ophelia winks before grabbing me and leading us to what I’m assuming is the designated photo spot. There’s even a line. This is going to be one of those nights.

****

“Aw, fuck…” I mutter to myself as my drink gets knocked out of my hand. This house isn’t big enough for the number of people that were invited.

“I am so sorry! Here, let me help you.” The guy who bumped into me extends his hand for me to grab. I’m sober enough to know not to take completely random strangers' hands at parties, especially in LA, but I’m also drunk enough to not care. He looks nice enough and I can spot Ophelia and her girlfriend Zoe keeping an eye on me from the corner of the room. I guess everyone is taking turns to make sure I don’t bail.

Against better judgment, I take this beautiful stranger’s hand and let him guide me out of the house to the backyard. It’s less crowded out here, maybe because there are more activities to do inside. Out here, I can actually breathe even though people are smoking and vaping out here. The music is quieter. The music is still loud, but like it would burst your eardrum like the music inside. I get a better look at the guy who brought me out here. He’s not bad looking, and I really hope that’s not the alcohol talking. He has the most relaxing blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a guy. His hair is dark brown with a bit of, I think, purple in the front. He looks as threatening as a pug, but looks can be deceiving.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get any on you did I?” He asks as he scans my body, not in a creepy way. Which is a nice change of pace.

“My feet but they’re just shoes so I don’t care. I call these my going out shoes, they’re made for moments like this so you’re all good. I’m Y/N by the way.” I stick my hand out for him to shake. He looks at it puzzled for a second before it registers and he grabs my hand and gives it a firm shake.

“Right— I spilled your drink on you and basically kidnapped you from the party and you don’t even know my name. It’s Colby, Colby Brock.” Colby shakes my hand a little too long before quickly pulling it away.

“I’m Y/N, you can get the last name later,” I bite my bottom lip, close my eyes, and mentally slap my head. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”

“It’s fine. It’s a thousand times better than anything I would have come up with. Just blame it on the alcohol.”

We both laugh before Colby singles that he’ll be right back. I watch as Colby disappears a small group of people. I take off my shoes and walk to the pool, dipping my feet in as I sit. The cool night air is soothing me. It’s a nice change from the stale scent of my apartment and the sweaty bodies inside the party. I look up to the night sky. The light pollution makes it impossible to see what stars and constellations are above us. Whatever I’m staring at right now feels peaceful, like they are aligned or not in retrograde. I have no idea what any of that means, but I do know that I’ve been around Ophelia too much.

Colby taps my shoulder when he gets back. He kicks off his shoes and socks before joining me in the pool, not even rolling up his pant legs. He’s going to regret that in a few hours. He hands me an unopened can of Truly. I take it from him and open it myself. At least I know he’s not a creep. He opens a can of White Claw and sips it before breaking the silence.

“I have to be honest, Y/N.” Colby looks forward, taking another sip.

“Oh no, what is it?” I ask nervously.

“The real reason I dropped your drink is because I saw some asshole slip something in your drink.” Colby finally looks at me and I can tell he’s serious.

“Wait…what? Someone tried to… Any you thought the best was to inform me was to spill my drink all over me?” I’m more taken aback by the idea of me almost getting roofied than anything. That would have been the perfect way to end this shit storm of a year.

“In hindsight, I planned to spill your drink. I didn’t mean to get any on you. I’m not a hundred percent sober right now so that was the downside of my plan. Don’t worry about the guy, my friend Corey went after him.”

“Wow— Uh, thank you. I mean it. I don’t think I could have dealt with… that on top of everything else I had to handle this year.” I take a sip of my drink and swing my legs in the water.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not big on talking about serious stuff with strangers, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to. However, we’re both getting hammered, if we aren’t already, so the likely hood of us even remembering this conversation tomorrow let alone who we are slim. So if you need to vent, vent.”

I weigh the pros and cons of actually venting everything to this beautiful stranger. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I decided to say fuck it. The year is almost over anyway, might as well get rid of this baggage and start the year fresh.

“Long story short: after months of quarantining together Axl, my boyfriend of 10 years, cheated on me. The entire time we were in quarantine. With my younger sister, who I let quarantine with us so she wouldn’t be alone and not have to fly back home to be with our parents. And to top it all off, I found out about it on my birthday when I walked in on them fucking each other on my bed.” I take a larger sip of my drink before leaning back and staring back at the virtually starless sky.

“Holy fucking shit,” Colby leans back to join me in looking at the sky.

“Yup! We met in preschool and started dating when we were 13. She’s four years younger than us to that’s annoying.”

“Not to be that guy, but I don’t know what you expected when you started dating a guy named Axl.”

“… You’re right, that is a pretty douchey name. I literally ignored the biggest red flag in my entire life.”

Colby and I laugh again until it fades. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much, like actually laughed, in months. It feels good. Inside the house, the crowd starts counting down from 15. Colby must have heard it too because I watch him turn his head from the corner of my eye. I turn my head to face him. He really does have beautiful eyes. Like the ocean.

“This may be a dumb idea and I know we don’t know each other, but do you want to be my new years kiss?”

“I may regret this in the future, but what the hell.” We both sit up and adjust our clothes.

It might be risky to just kiss a random stranger at midnight, but who cares. We’re most likely not going to be in each other’s lives after tonight anyway. But by God, I could do much worse than kissing Colby. Unless I’m very drunk and the drunk goggles are seriously fucking with me. It’s not like I’m going home with him, my friends won’t let that happen. Maybe after this party, we’ll go our separate ways and never see each other again. Maybe we’ll run into each other in a random store in LA or at some creator convention.

The drunken yells of party-goers inch closer and closer to midnight.

“Three,” Colby whispers, moving his hair out of his face.

“Two,” I take one more small sip before finally setting my drink down. Colby does the same. My heart is beating a loud, steady rhythm in my chest like it’s about to burst.

“One,” We whisper at the same time before slowly leaning in.

As our lips touch, it felt like time had stopped. The beating intense beating in my heart only intensifies the longer our lips stay pressed together. One of Colby’s hands finds my face why the other reaches for my thigh, but I can only focus on how soft his lips are. My stomach starts forming knots as he tries to deepen the kiss. I don’t know if it’s everything I drank tonight coursing through my veins or the fact that I haven’t been kissed in months, but I slightly part my lips. The mixture of Colby’s scent and his body heat wash over me like they’re intoxicating my senses. The kiss ends just as suddenly as it started. We both pull away and just stare at each other in awe.

“L/N,” I breathe, fixing my hair.

“What?” Colby takes another sip of his drink.

“My last name is L/N.”

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock imagines #imagine #imagines #sam and colby imagines #sam and colby imagine #colby #fluff #fluff imagine #fluff imagines #colby brock x reader #sam and colby

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anotheronechicagobog · 3 years

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Rangers, Lead the Way

Written by: @anotheronechicagobog

Warnings: Swearing, canon compliant violence, I had to use a lot of material from the actual episode, mention of domestic abuse

tagging: @detectiveinchicago

A/N: So, this is a new series. Basically, OA Zidan (FBI), Jay Halstead (Chicago PD), and Kenny Crosby (FBI: Most Wanted) all went to Ranger training together and kept in touch, something that was useful when they couldn’t be the one to keep their ‘partner’ safe and need to call one of the others for assistance when their ‘paartners’ are temporarily working with another member of the trio.

OA wasn't a name that he'd heard in a long time. They weren't in the same unit but they were in Rangers training together. Jay was one of the only two people there who didn't have it out for him solely because of his religion, while he was shocked to find a Muslim among the ranks at first, he quickly got over it. Not only did he trust that his superiors wouldn't let a terrorist into the army at all, let alone Ranger training, but OA was a U.S. citizen, and had a very personal hatred for everyone who sullied the name of Islam and used it for violence and their own personal gain. So he and Kenny Crosby befriended OA despite the shock and ignorance from their brothers and sisters in arms. They studied together, trained together, ate together, and bunked together. When they'd all been given different assignments they made sure to stay in touch. And they continued to call, email, and text each other after they'd all been discharged.

When Hailey got temporarily assigned to New York Jay was... Well, it's hard to describe how he felt. It was such a nightmarish combination of devastated, terrified, and heartbroken. It was like an icy hand had enclosed around his throat and was slowly squeezing, painfully closing his throat, all while his heart was being dissected out of his chest by another. Not only was he reliving one of the most traumatic moments of his life all over again, but Hailey was going to be in the field without him. She was going to be in danger without him there to watch her back.

And since Hailey was amazing, she could tell just by looking at him that his mind was dropping down into a dark place faster than Alice tumbled into Wonderland. "It's just temporary. And I'll be okay, Jay."

"Hailey..."

"I'm going to put in my time and come back as quickly as possible. It's okay. It's all going to be okay." Hailey's words didn't reassure him in the slightest. How could they, when they didn't even reassure Hailey?

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

"Special Agent Zidan."

"Hey OA, it's Jay."

"Hey man, how are you?"

"Honestly, not great."

"What's wrong?"

"My- uh my partner..."

"Hailey Upton."

"Yeah. She's getting detailed out to the FBI for a bit. I found out that she's getting assigned to your unit."

"That makes sense, my partner's doing a UC detail right now, we'll probably be partnered together."

"OA... Watch out for her. Please. She is strong and more than capable of defending herself, and you quite frankly, but- she's my- I..."

"Don't worry, Jay. I'll have her back. She'll make it back to you."

"Thank you. Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me."

OA looked at the now-empty desk that had been causing his heart to ache at the sight of it. His shoulder sagged at the pain that was pulling in his chest, the dark fog that filled his mind whenever he started to think, started to wonder, caused his head to throb. "Actually, I know exactly how you feel."

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

"You will be partnered with Agent Zidan."

"Hi, I'm OA."

"Hi. Hailey."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Listen up, everyone. This is Detective Hailey Upton from Chicago PD. She will be with us for the next few weeks as part of our interagency training program."

"All right, so let's, uh, direct our attention to the screens here. Found the body of a young John Doe in St. Nicholas Park. A hundred yards from Alexander Hamilton's house. Federal land, federal case- and no, it is not where Aaron Burr shot him. The famed duel took place in-- anyone, anyone? Weehawken, New Jersey. Kristen knew. Unfortunately, there's far less clarity in the present homicide case. Evidence of torture and abuse, the victim was brown-skinned, but there was no other evidence of a hate crime. So let's dig in, get to work, start filling in the blanks. Yeah? Go."

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

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

"So, Chicago PD? Should I be nervous?"

"Nervous?"

"You guys have been in the news a lot and not for good reasons."

"Uh, yeah, we've had some issues, but they're being addressed. It's a great place. I'm proud to be a part of it. The next time you want to insult me, just come out and say it, you don't need to disguise it as a compliment. This car right here?"

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just my way of saying we do things differently here."

"Mhmm."

"Just trying to keep it real." And keep you from getting hurt so that Halstead doesn't develop a full head of grey hair. "So, you spend much time in New York?"

"Nah, first time here."

"Any early observations?"

"Pizza's too thin. It's like a cracker with sauce on it. Just trying to keep it real."... Okay, so maybe it would've been nice if Jay had warned him that she had an axe to grind, but he could make do.

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

"If I hear you're harassing any more immigrants, I'm gonna come back here, and I'm gonna break your arm. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"I forwarded Kristen the pictures of Aman. She'll get us a street block number based on the license plates in the background."

"Just like that, huh?"

"The FBI, Upton. Our tech resources are pretty sick. Look, it's not a big deal, but now that you're working with us, just try and be a little bit more careful. If that guy Prichard calls the Bureau complaining that you threatened to use force..."

"Look, man, I don't need a lesson on how to talk to people, all right?"

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't get me wrong. I have no problem with someone breaking that idiot's arm, it's just... It's just that the Bureau is hardcore, and they take that stuff really seriously."

"You're right. I'm sorry. If he files a beef, I'll eat it and make sure you're clear. All right?"

"Appreciate that. But what the hell's a beef?"

"It's an expression."

"I'm kidding. Kristen said Aman's house is around this area."

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

So, Hailey is a badass. That was pretty damn cool to witness. Sidenote; Jay is going to murder him.

Hailey was fine, more than fine, she actually saved his ass. But that didn't matter, Jay had trusted him to protect Hailey and hadn't failed, but he hadn't done the best job either.

They'd been searching a house, and after coming down the stairs he completely missed an assailant in the kitchen. But Hailey hadn't. No, she saw him and got him out of the line of fire. He provided cover fire while she jumped back over to the wall at the end of the stairs. OA tensed, more than usual when he was in a firefight unless Maggie was- nope, not going there, the point is, he didn't miss the way a bullet penetrated the wall a few centimetres from Hailey's head.

"Halstead."

"Don't be mad-"

"Oh god-"

"Hailey's fine. One-hundred percent fine, not even a scratch. We just, uh, we got into a shootout with an assailant. He got a shot off close to her head. She's fine- more than fine! I swear! She actually saved my ass in that altercation! And I was covering her the whole time!"

"... That's it? That's a pretty normal day for us, OA. She's okay, you're okay... So, everything, is... Okay. And seriously, thanks again, man. I can't even begin to tell you how much this means to me. I know that she can take care of herself and the others around her, but it's hard when I'm not the one there to have her six. So I really appreciate that I know and trust the person who is."

"Well, I'm glad that you're not gonna come at me like you did when I stole one of the cookies your mom made from your care package."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want a repeat of that."

"Plus, I know how it feels to... Not know. My partner is under right now and..."

"You're going out of your mind?"

"More than you can believe. I can't eat or sleep, and every time my phone buzzes I think it's a death notification instead of an emergency call from work."

"Sounds like you've got your own Hailey. You'll have to introduce me to Maggie one day."

"Yeah, I will. And Ken's definitely gonna have to introduce Hana. We have heard far too much about her to not even be able to put a face to the name."

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I regret our 'no search' rule, but then I remember how much we embarrass each other."

"By the way, thank you."

"Huh? For what?"

"For saving my ass back there. In the house."

"Oh. Okay. Cool. You're welcome."

"Halstead, how much do get shot at, exactly?"

"Why are you asking?"

"She pushed me out of the path of a bullet and when I thanked her afterwards she treated it like it was nothing."

"... I mean, there's not exactly a whole lot I can do about people trying to kill us..."

"Jay. Dude."

"I can try to stop being 'idiotically reckless' as Hailey calls it, but I'm not trying to be a hero or a dumbass or anything, it's just that... If it's not me getting hurt..."

"...It's her."

"Yeah."

"We're both whipped, aren't we?"

"Oh, ridiculously whipped. The desk Sergeant at my precinct is constantly making fun of me for it."

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

"Just got ballistics back on the slugs fired at OA and Upton. They match the bullets that killed Aman, but get this; they also match the bullets pulled from a drive-by murder victim two months ago."

"Could they ID a suspect yet?"

"Yeah, arrested him too. Name is Santiago Gonzalez, known associate of the Latin Players. He's being held at MDC pending trial."

"Latin Players. That's a Chicago gang."

"Hmm, looks like they're expanding."

"So the Latin Players killed someone, they get arrested, go to jail, and the gun

stays on the street."

"And the new owner uses said gun to kill Aman, a studious Indian engineering student?"

"Right. What are we missing? How are these two murders connected?"

"Have OA and Upton pay a visit to Inmate Gonzalez. Maybe he can help us answer that question."

"Right."

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

"So this guy, Gonzalez, is originally from Chicago. Runs with the Latin Players, so maybe you should take the lead on this one. But go hard on him." Hailey and Gonzales were from the same city, same blood, this was her turf, and OA wanted to make sure that he abided by that.

"You want a reaction?" Hailey seemed to get exactly what he meant, what he wanted, but she also seemed hesitant, like she needed more than clarification. It was like she needed permission.

"A big one. Big enough to force him to call his people."

"I think I can do that." And just like that, she had a smirk in her voice and was walking ahead of him. OA could see the wheels turning in her head and a coolness to her features let him know that she'd come up with a game plan. He didn't know if he should be afraid or not.

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

"Where's the gun you used in the drive-by?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." They were less than a minute into the interrogation and he was already annoyed. Why did these guys always have to be so smug? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and just let Hailey do her thing, only popping in to keep the flow going. "One of your friends used it to kill a civilian last night."

"Used it again this afternoon on us. Fired off ten rounds."

"Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about." OA had to hold in a sigh.

"You're staring 20 to life on the case you're riding. Give us the name of the person you gave the gun to, and maybe I'll be able to get you a reduced sentence."

"Get my ass, blondie." OA quickly debated the pros and cons of stepping in. Honestly, this guy would probably just make him angrier with his smug attitude and sexist remarks, plus Hailey wasn't even phased. She was still in control, and she actually seemed a little... Bored.

"I'm not a fed like him. I'm Chicago police."

"So what?"

"Means I play by different rules. Also means I know the names of all the shot callers in the Latin Players. Tomorrow morning, we're gonna do a warrant sweep. Means a lot of people you know are gonna get arrested."

"That's not my problem."

"But it is. Because I'm gonna make sure that they know you are the snitch who gave them up."

"Now, you know nobody's gonna believe that."

"Really? Because in my experience, pissed-off bangers don't do their homework, and if they think you're a snitch, you're a snitch. In the street, rumours become facts like that."

"I'm done talking."

"Alright."

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

"So you think he believed us?"

"I don't know. What?"

"Nothing, you just reminded me of my partner, Maggie, in there."

"Oh."

"In a good way."

"Then thank you."

"Can you cue up the audio feed?" The prison guard nodded back at OA and did as he asked.

"So where is your partner?"

"Uh, she is on an undercover assignment. That I know absolutely nothing about besides the fact that she is gone and unreachable."

"That's gotta be pretty tough."

"Yeah, but she's really good, so she'll be fine."

"We're up." The guard unmuted the computer and moved out of the way so that he and Hailey could see it clearly.

"Yo, just say the word, man. Chicago about to throw that heat."

"What are you talking about?"

Gonzalez sighed. "Police and FBI here sweating me, man."

"About what?"

"That piece that I left behind. I'm guess it's all connected to what happened on the night at Highbridge Park."

"All right, thanks for looking out."

"No doubt."

"Can you trace the number that he called?" OA was ansty, ready to get moving fast before their lead disappeared and from the honed in look in Hailey's eyes he could see she felt the same.

"Payphone up in Washington Heights." The prison guard was curt and efficient, exactly what they needed and OA was silently grateful.

"Okay. Thank you."

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

"I'm guessing that's his girlfriend."

"Hold on. I talked to her at the park, right before we found Ernesto's body." From the way her body tensed OA could tell Hailey wasn't happy she'd let this girl slip through her fingers. He could tell her that it wasn't her fault, no one was even remotely aware of this connection, but he knew that was pointless. Any passionate law enforcement officer would beat themselves over something like this, himself included.

"Ah, and we have a hit off of social rec. Her name is Harper Quinlan, 23 years old, last known address is 84 Groton Street, Queens, New York."

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

"Why were you at the park?" OA sat across from the young woman, dead set on getting all the information she knew. Arman's murder was quickly dissolving into a larger more horrifying crime and he was worried that the poor man who this had all started with would be forgotten and he didn't want to think about why that enraged him so much.

"I told you before. I was walking."

"Or was it to recover the glove that Lucas dropped after he killed his drug supplier?"

"I don't know anything about that."

"We have video of you in the driver's seat of Lucas' Range Rover at Highbridge Park the night that Lucas killed Ernesto Garcia, so you are now an official suspect in a murder investigation. That means no more lying, no more protecting your boyfriend. You either cooperate with us here and now, or you go to prison."

"I'm not gonna help you ruin Lucas' life. I just won't. He's a good person."

"Harper, good people don't sell drugs or kill people."

"Yeah, you don't know him like I do. He's so nice, and... he's sweet... He really loves me."

"Lucas isn't who you think he is, Harper. Protecting him will only get you and more innocent people hurt. Tell me why you think he was in the park that night."

"I'm not gonna help you."

"Are you listening to what I'm saying to you? You're a suspect in a murder investigation here. Lying to protect him makes this worse. You're putting more lives at risk. Be smart. Tell me why you were there that night. Harper, you don't need to go to prison for him." OA knew he wasn't getting anywhere and was trying to think of some other- any other method- to try and get Harper to talk, when Hailey burst into the room. She looked calculated, like she had a plan or idea that needed to be executed exactly or else the worst might befall those she was trying to protect. Which, if he read her character right, was everyone.

"Unlock it."

"What's going on?" Harper was just as confused as he was, but he knew better than to show it.

"Do it. Pull up your texts."

"Oh, my God."

"What does it say?" Hailey already knew, that much was obvious, but whatever was going on needed to be as brutally real as possible to Harper, and voicing it out loud would drive whatever was going on home for Harper.

"'Return the product, or he's dead. You have four hours. Tell your man to meet us at the place we did our first deal.' Oh, my- oh, my God." Harper's sobs quickly took up the space of the interrogation room, it didn't matter that she hadn't seen her father in so long, losing him would devastate her, and the Latin Players knew that well.

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

"Let me take a run at her. I might have an angle to play." OA watched Hailey carefully, trying to make out was she was thinking, what angle she could possibly have, but he hadn't known her nearly long enough for any of that. There was this... Knowing glint in her eyes, and a sort of dark confidence had taken over her aura. She was confident in whatever plan she had, obviously, he just had no way of predicting what it was. In that moment, OA could really see what made Jay all twisted over her. She didn't look excited to break the accomplice of a drug dealer, or eager to impress the FBI. She looked like she was ready to get elbow deep in someone else's mess just for the sake of protecting as many people as possible with her quick wit and razor-sharp intelligence. So he just inclined his head and got ready to watch her work from the other side of the glass.

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

"You're in a tough place right now, Harper. We have video of you at the scene of a murder, which makes you an accessory. You're looking at 15 to 20 years in prison. But if you cooperate, we can help you. We'll talk to the prosecutor, explain why you were there, help him understand the nature of your relationship with Lucas."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know what's going on. He hurts you, doesn't he?"

"No. That's not true. He's a good guy-"

"No, he's not. What are those bruises on your neck? You tried to cover them up, but I can see them. When you first met, I bet he was great. You guys hit it off, you had fun. He was everything you wanted. But then he started chipping away at your friends and your family. So you pop a pill to numb the pain and tell yourself everything's okay, just hoping that the abuse is gonna stop. Harper. It won't. I talked to your dad. He loves you very much. And he needs you right now. He's in a lot of danger. If these guys don't get their drugs back, they will kill him. The only thing that matters now is you helping us to find Lucas, so we can recover the drugs and find your dad." Watching Hailey in the interrogation room really was something else. From the slight waver of her tone, the palpable understanding in her voice that seemed to wrap a crying Harper in the first hug she's had in a long time, he could tell that she was exposing a pain-filled part of herself to this- this girl, this accomplice in drug dealing and murder. And still, she was able to remain professional and in control, and OA could honestly say that her incredible ability to do her job both made his heart ache for her and impressed him far more than he thought she would.

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

They were in the surveillance van, waiting for Harper and the SWAT team to get in to place. What OA was itching to ask her was highly personal. He did not expect her to feel comfortable talking to him about it, but she'd given Harper some of her strength and after revealing something so heart-wrenching, the protective Egyptian older brother in him needed to make sure that she'd left enough for herself. "So, how do you know so much about abuse? I am sorry, I did not mean anything by that."

"No, it's fine. It's all good. Everyone becomes a cop for a reason. I guess that's mine."

"Uh, yeah."

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

"Don't forget, Harper. He wants the cash to get out of town, but we need the location where he first met his dealer. That's where your dad is." OA nodded along to Hailey's instruction, keeping a critical eye on the emotionally distraught Harper.

"Babe. They took my father."

"What are you talking about?"

"That guy that you deal with, they grabbed my father and texted me that they're gonna kill him unless we return the drugs that you took."

"Oh, no, no. I can't- I can't do that."

"They took my father!"

"Look, I feel bad, but they will kill me. Oh, Jesus, don't-"

"Lucas."

"Don't give me the sad eyes look."

"Lucas."

"I'm screwed. Look, I gotta look out for me- for us, you understand?"

"Look, I need to know where you and Ernesto did your first deal 'cause that's where they wanna meet."

"I just told you, I'm not going-"

"I will go! I'll call my uncle. He has a lot of money. Maybe I can negotiate a deal or something."

"I gotta get moving, all right, so give me the money."

"Where did you meet him?"

"Stay strong." Hailey could see her waver, could see her lose her ground and need someone to keep her steady. "Location first, then give him the money."

"Lucas. Lucas. Lucas!"

"I'll call you later on, all right?" Lucas, being the selfish douchebag that he is, grabs the bag of money and moves to book it, leaving his girlfriend who needs him behind.

"Damn it. Move in now!" OA sounded the call and immediately all agents left their posts and honed in on Lucas.

"Lucas!"

"You lying sack of..." Lucas, in an effort to prove that he really is a stellar guy, pulls out a gun and starts shooting at the agents, causing panic and fear in the civilians around them. Really, Harper? This guy?

"Get down! Get down!" Hailey pulled Harper out of the line of fire and pushed her to the ground before covering her with her own body, amazing OA with her selflessness yet again. You really picked a good one, Jay.

"Move, move!"

"Drop it!" Scola had joined them when Lucas went for the kill, forcing OA to do the same. Only OA was a good shot, though.

"Lucas! Lucas! Lucas! Lucas..." Harper couldn't stop calling for him, and OA was certain that the only reason she hadn't crawled over to his body was that Hailey was holding her in place. "It's okay." Hailey seemed to be stuck on repeat, comforting Harper. OA personally couldn't see how someone who had been abused would mourn their abuser... But then again, he thankfully had never had to suffer through that. Unlike Hailey.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"Sounded like he was ready to hit the road, so I'm guessing his dope is close by. Nothing back here." OA went to the Range Rover with Scola to look for anything- finding the drugs would've been preferable, but as long as it was a tangible clue, they could call it a win.

"Yeah. There's nothing here either."

"Any luck?" Hailey approached them, her I-know-something-that-you-don't-but-don't-worry-I'll-tell-you plastered on her face.

"Nope. Nothing."

"You have the keys on you?"

"Yeah."

"Here, let me try something. Hop in. Shut the trunk." Hailey closed the driver's door, started the engine, pushed a button on the stereo and on the car door. A drawer illuminated by blue light opens, containing the missing drugs.

"I already pushed it. Nothing happened." Scola sounded mildly insulted, but OA just chuckled internally.

"Okay, Chicago." He was impressed, and he wasn't going to hide that. He was also going to give Jay a call later to tell him to ask her out already. There's no way a woman this amazing stays single for long.

"I have a CI who installs these things. Engine has to be on and doors closed in order for it to open."

"Okay, we got the dope. Now we just gotta figure out where to deliver it to."- OA

"Yep."

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

"We have Lucas' texts from the phone he was carrying since Harper said he started doing business with the Latin Players about a month ago-" Kristen was leading their group of field agents and Jubal towards the front desks, explaining what she found, and while normally they would have totally enjoyed her explaining just how smart she is, things were a little time-sensitive.

"Yeah."

"We need to scrub that time period."

"There, on the 28th. There's a text that says, 'Meetings at 2. Let's do 9 instead of 8.'" One of the analysts pulled the info onto the computer screen in front of them, showing them the text records.

"'Let's do 9 instead of 8'? But the meeting's at 2:00. Is that some sort of code?" Jubal's mind was whirring away with Kristen's, figuring out exactly what it meant.

"Well, here's Lucas' GPS data from that day around that time." Kristen worked her magic so that Jubal could work his.

"All right, so from 1:37 to 3:12, he was in Brooklyn down by the river. Kris, can you zoom in? Get a more specific look at this. Yeah, over here. Can you drill down right there?"

"Okay."

"They met at 2:00 at a dock. Pier nine instead of pier eight. That's the meeting place." Scola voiced it out loud, like he was still in thought and hadn't had time to put all of the pieces in place internally first.

"There it is." Jubal's prideful voice made OA smirk.

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

"We've got 67 minutes to get the drugs down to pier nine. Unfortunately, the guy we need to deliver the drugs is at the city morgue." Isobel voiced the dreadful obvious from her office, forcing them all to sigh and start their plan to catch Arman's killer from scratch.

"I'll go under as Lucas' friend. I'll give him the coke in exchange for Harper's dad." Hailey volunteered herself, but not with the same gusto she'd been working the entire case. Something was off and OA's 'spidey senses' were giving him no peace.

"No. These guys have done their homework. They're not gonna buy that." OA knew he made a good point, but he hoped that no one saw the way his shoulders went rigid.

"I get it, but I think I can pull it off."

"No, I agree with OA. It's too risky." Isobel agreed with him and OA felt like he could breathe again, he promised Jay that he'd watch her back, something he couldn't really do if he was watching her not with her. And if he were honest with himself, he'd become a little attached to her in the time they'd been partnered together, hoping that they would become friends.

"So we need a plan C."

"Let me do it. He's my father. I'm the one who got him into this awful situation. So let me do it. Let me do something meaningful. Something that will make me feel good about myself... Please. Gotta let me do it." Harper looked at Hailey, not even acknowledging the rest of the room.

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

"You're gonna do great. Just follow the plan we laid out."

"He doesn't get the second bag until you see your father."

"Right. Got it."

"And if your dad's not at the meeting place, you tell the man to bring him there. He'll say no. You stand your ground." Hailey seemed to be offering more comforting advice.

"You have more leverage than you think. This dope is worth a lot of money, and that's all they really care about." While he seemed to be offering more calculated advice.

"It's okay to be nervous. They'd be suspicious if you weren't. You good?"

"I'm good."

"Okay."

"Okay. Here we go."

"Alpha team in position."

"Where's Lucas?" The gang leader, covered in tattoos was menacing as he approached.

"He sent me instead."

"And my product? There's only one kilo here."

"The other four are close by."

"Close by doesn't do me no good."

"Show me where my father is, and I'll get you the other four."

"Don't get cute with me, mama. I'll cut your throat. Go get my dope."

"Let's get ready to move in."

"No, no. Give her a chance."- Hailey was confident, but OA couldn't help but side-eye her. Wondering just what made her so sure.

"You trying to get your dad killed? 'Cause, that's what's happen if you keep playing."

"I need to see him."

"He's alive. I promise."

"I need proof."

"[whistles] Right over there, chica."

"Okay, we got eyes on the dad. We're good to go."

"Wait, wait, wait. Let's see if we can get him talking about Aman's murder. As soon as we see a weapon, we roll."

"Okay." OA knew that Hailey was smart, and she had been making great calls throughout this case, but he was still hesitant. An innocent man's life was in the balance, but he wanted justice for Arman too.

"Be a good girl, go get my dope. Do that, Big Papa walks. I'll go with you."

"So... So... How do I know you're not gonna kill me and my father once I give you the dope?"

"I don't kill civilians. Bad for business."

"You kill that Indian guy? He was a civilian."

"I try my best, but I'm not perfect, mama." Harper meekly retrieved the second bag from behind construction equipment.

"You did good, Harper." But 'good' wasn't enough for him. Suddenly a large silver gun was pointing at the middle of her forehead.

"FBI! Don't move!" OA lead the charge, coming out of hiding and announcing himself the second that they got confirmation that he murdered Arman they'd burst out of the van and beat SWAT to Harper, the Latin Players, and Harper's father.

"Drop your weapon now! Let me see your hands now! Put the gun on the ground! Step away! Put it down now!"

"Get on the ground! Get on the ground, now!"

"Dad!"

"Let me go! Dad! Dad! Dad!" Honestly, he didn't give the tearful father-daughter reunion much attention or thought, but he noticed that Hailey did, if only for a couple of seconds longer than necessary. He didn't know what to make of that, though.

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

"Hey."

"I just filed my 302. Do you need help with yours?"

"Nah, I just finished."

"So, I have to admit, I wasn't so sure about you."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure about you either. But you're all right. For a fed."

"You wanna grab a beer?"

"I'm okay. You don't have to look after the new kid."

"I am pretty sure you don't need looking after. Come on, you saved my life. The least you can do is let me buy you a drink."

"For the tenth time, I didn't save your life. All right, let's grab a beer, but only if you tell me why you became a fed. I told you my reason. It's only fair you tell me yours."

"Deal."

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They didn't quite 'go out for a beer'. When OA heard Hailey's stomach throw a temper tantrum in the elevator he suggested going out for food that was accompanied by a beer. She'd agreed as long as they didn't go out for "crackers with sauce on them". OA had laughed, not even remotely or phased by Hailey's obsession with Chicago pizza. It's just another thing she shares with Jay. Besides, he wanted to take her somewhere else.

When they sat down Hailey looked around, taking it all in. Omar has been coming to this restaurant all his life. It had been open longer than he'd been alive, he'd even had his tenth birthday here. He hadn't brought Maggie here yet, not because he didn't think they were close enough, he just didn't know how she'd react to realizing that they are that close. "I hope you like Egyptian food."

"I've never had it, but I'm Greek and I know that there are a few shared foods and ingredients."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed Greek from 'Upton'."

"My parents changed it when they moved here, their name was too difficult for Americans to pronounce, and there was some... Other stuff."

"I'm familiar with 'other stuff'. Do you want any recommendations or need me to explain anything on the menu?"

"You know what? You can choose what I eat tonight. If I like what you pick, I won't tease you for it the rest of the time I'm here."

"Well, for the record-"

"What record?" Hailey laughed.

"For the record, I am completely confident in my knowledge of food so I know I'll find something you'll like. After all, it can't really be bad so long as it's not non-Chicago pizza. Right?"

OA ended up choosing a dish called 'kushari', it wasn't like the Chicago or Mediterranean food Hailey was used to but she'd loved it. OA was smiling at her, proud of his victory, Hailey rolled her eyes, smirking at his impishness. "Tell me about your partner." The question caught him off guard and for a moment he'd felt a significant crack in his walls, leaving him exposed. Suddenly all the feelings he'd been pushing back since Maggie went UC enveloped and starting drowning him. Fear gripped his heart, haunting curiousity stabbed his mind, and loneliness hooked onto his soul. "OA? We don't have to talk about her, I'm sorry I asked, I didn't mean to upset you."

"She's one of the most amazing people I know. She's smart, strong, generous, empathetic, courageous... She's honestly one of the most amazing people in my life and I love having her as my partner." Hailey looked at him the same way his sisters and mother did whenever he spoke about one of the most important people in his life. Like they were able to listen between his words and decipher another meaning to what he'd said. But like his mother, his sisters always gave him hell for it, she said nothing. I couldn't even dispute it if she did say anything.

"She sounds badass."

"She is. What about your partner? Tell me about them?" He'd narrowly averted saying 'him', unsure how she'd react if she knew just how close she and Jay really were, and just how much Jay had told him about her. She got this smitten grin on her face, and OA knew that the roles were reversed from a few moments ago when he had that same smirk and far off look in his eyes. "His name is Jay Halstead, and he's an amazing person, except for when he's getting himself shot, the reckless idiot. He would rather get shot at than get a needle which rattles me to no end, especially because he's so much more kind and intelligent than he gives himself credit for and we need him you know, alive, but still, I admire him so much. He makes me laugh and he just knows how to get to me, you know? I would... I would follow him anywhere. Wow... What is in this food? Truth serum? I'm not usually that open..." It was like he could literally see a forcefield shaping around her. Shrinking in on herself, her face hardening, hastily putting a forkful of food in her mouth. She looked at the wall behind him, pretending to be interested in the decorations, trying to pass off the slight panic in her eyes.

"Maybe it's just my charming demeanour, or that I got personal first, really personal. Or maybe it's because you needed to tell that to someone you don't see every day."

"Yeah. Maybe." She still wouldn't look at him and a tense silence enveloped them until she took a deep breath and shook herself. Light seemingly went off in her head before she gave him an absolutely devilish smirk. "I believe I was promised your origin story."

"Is that what we're calling it? An 'origin story'?"

"It is now."

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

"Halstead."

"Get your head out of your dumb ass and ask Hailey out."

"I- OA-"

"You won't regret it, Jay. I actually think that you will regret it if you don't."

"I just don't know if I'm ready to admit anything to myself, forget Hailey."

"When does life ever wait until you're ready, man? Neither of you work in a stable occupation, and even then the universe isn't exactly known for working on anyone else's timeline. I can literally feel you aching for her from here."

"But what if I'm not good enough."

"Oh, I've only known her for a few days and I already know that no one's good enough for her-"

"Damn have you adopted her as another honourary sibling? How many do you have now? And Hailey actually knows you've adopted her, right?"

"Not important, and don't try and change the subject."

"But if no one's good enough for her, then..."

"You're too hard on yourself Jay. No one's good enough for you either. Why shouldn't two people who are far too good for the world be together? You deserve happiness, Jay. You both do, and I think telling her that you're far gone with her would be a great start."

"Thanks, man. Really."

"No problem."

"... So you think that I'm 'far too good for the world'?"

"And now I'm regretting every word we've spoken." No I don't, but your head really doesn't to get bigger.

"Nope, no take-backs. You think that I'm badass and amazing."

"I never said 'badass' or 'amazing'."

"Jay Halstead- described as 'far too good for the world' by the humble and decorated OA Zidan-"

"I also called you a 'dumbass' but whatever, goodnight Jay. And seriously, ask Hailey out."

#One Chicago #Chicago PD #hailey upton #hailey x jay #jay halstead x hailey upton #upstead #upstead fic #jay halstead #OA Zidan #maggie bell #oa zidan x maggie bell #zibell #fbi cbs

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supernatural-jackles · 4 years

Text

The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 10

Title: The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 10

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4,907

Warnings: Minor Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Self Hate, Mentions of Suicide, Fluff.

Summary: Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life.

The Man on the Side of the Road - Masterlist

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy this part! As always, feedback keeps me going! Please share your thoughts! Happy reading!

Dean was anxious and you could see it in the way he was sitting. You were meeting Sam and his girlfriend Jess in a restaurant halfway between your hotel and their apartment. You could understand why he was. After all, it had been years since they had spent any time together. You knew he needed this more than anything. You wanted to make this as stress free for him as you could.

“You sure you don’t want to have dinner alone with him? I can take Jess out somewhere, and give you guys a chance to really talk,” you offered, reaching over to rub between his shoulders.

“Yeah?” he questioned nervously.

“Yeah. It’s not a problem. It’s stressful enough that it’s him. It’s even more nerve wracking having his girlfriend there too,” you added in. “I can ask her to take me shopping somewhere to get souvenirs. You can text me when we can come back.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” you smirked. “Here they come.”

Sam and Jess walked up to the table, hand in hand. She gave you a warm smile, and a soft wave before she took a seat next to you. Sam sat closest to Dean, giving him the same half smile he did the night before.

“How did your midterm go?” you asked, trying to start the conversation.

“Good,” Sam nodded. “Easy.” Oh boy.

“Jess, I was actually wondering, could you show me some good places to shop and get souvenirs?”

“I was actually thinking about asking you if you wanted to go check out some places,” she revealed. Good, they were thinking the same thing you and Dean were. It made it a lot less awkward.

“Alright, well we’ll leave you two to catch up,” you smiled, glancing over at Dean for a second. He gave you a nod, reassuring you what you had already gone over before they got here. You hoped he could catch up and get to a good place with his brother in that time. Jess leaned over, giving Sam a quick kiss before getting up.

You and Jess headed out of the restaurant, and out onto the busy streets. You took a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. You weren’t all that good with strangers. Dean was an exception when you met him. Jess was different. She was a girl, and she was the girlfriend of your best friend’s brother. You didn’t want her to hate you.

“So how long have you and Sam been together, “ you broke the silence.

“Four and a half years,” she smiled. She seemed nice for the most part. She had that kind voice. One that said she was approachable, and not a complete bitch if you were to ask her a question. It made you a lot more comfortable. “What about you and Dean?”

“Oh, we’re not together,” you shook your head. “Just friends and roommates.”

“Oh okay. Sorry, I just assumed you were together. Sam doesn’t really talk about Dean as much anymore. I know he loves his brother, but when he came here, he wanted to get away from all of his family drama. I know Sam and his Dad didn’t get along in the slightest. Sam wanted the chance to talk to Dean alone. I know they have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah. Dean and I talked about it before you guys came in. He wanted to talk to him about whatever without the added pressure of two other people listening in,” you chuckled.

“So you’re from Lawrence then too?” she questioned.

“Around there, yeah. I grew up in another part of town. I just met Dean a little while ago. He moved in with me ‘cause he needed somewhere to live after his landlord screwed him over. He was my roommate, then he easily became my best friend. Hands down, the easiest person to live with,” you shared.

“Really? He doesn’t leave the toilet seat up, or his dirty dishes in the sink?”

“Nope. He cooks, helps me clean. Does the groceries and laundry,” you told her. “Sam doesn’t?”

“Nope. All me,” she let out a laugh. “Can I ask why you aren’t together? You two just look like you’d make a good couple.”

“Nah, I uh - I think it could ruin a lot of things,” you shrugged.

“So you do have feelings for him?” she asked with a smirk playing on her lips.

“Yes, I do have feelings for him,” you breathed out. “There is a big part of me that wants to tell him. I keep tetoring over it. Things could be great if we do. But our friendship means the world to me, and I know it means a lot to him. If things don’t work out, then not only do I get my heart broken, I lose the one person I never want to lose. I don’t feel like I’m good enough for him half the time, anyways. I don’t think I could be that someone he needs me to be.”

“No offense to you at all. I know I don’t know you at all, but why do you think so little of yourself? Why put yourself down like this when you obviously have a great guy who knows you better than I do?” she asked. The two of you turned into a bar. You followed her to the booth, taking a seat across from her. The bar wasn’t all that busy, not yet anyways.

“It’s just - it’s complicated. I have my issues, and he has his. Somedays I think we’d be great together, but most of the time, I know that I’d make everything worse,” you told her. “What about you and Sam? How did you guys get together?”

“Don’t think you’re getting away with this so easily,” she pointed out with a smile. “Obviously Sam and I are both in law school. We met freshman year in a coffee shop. I accidently spilled my coffee off the table and Sam just so happened to be next to me. He helped me clean it up and offered to buy me a new one. We got to talking about our classes, then little stories. It just escalated from there. I thought he was cute from the second I saw him. A little damaged, but his smile had me from the get go. One date led to more and now we’re here.”

“Is he your one?” you asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I can’t see myself with anyone but him. No one gets me like he does and I don’t want to share myself the way I do with anyone other than Sam. I’ve had a lot of crappy relationships before this. Sam changed it all for me. He was raised right. I should really thank Dean for that. He practically raised him.”

“Dean’s a great man. I know that Sam hasn’t been around him for a long time now, but Dean talks about him with so much pride. I can see it in the way his face lights up that he loves his little brother more than anything,” you added in.

“I think it’s just hard for Sam because of his dad and how they didn’t get along. I don’t know if Dean told you about the day Sam left for college. I’ll leave that one for him to tell you, but it was one of the worst fights they’ve had. It was the last time he talked to his dad,” she revealed. “You’d be good for Dean.”

“Jess,” you sighed in defeat, giggling a little at how smooth she was in transitioning that in there. You could see why a Winchester fell for her.

“I’m not saying you need to do anything about it right now. But I am saying you shouldn’t be afraid of ruining everything. Life is too short to live it afraid of what might happen,” she shared. “I get that you’re afraid of losing him. But you need to give yourself a chance to be happy with someone like him. From what I know, Dean’s a great guy but I’m sure you already know that. I’m not saying act on it right away, but don’t hold back on something that will make you extremely happy. You’re beautiful, and he looks at you with adoration. Clearly you’re someone important to him. Someone he loves. Guys are usually better at showing how they feel. You’ll know how he feels that way.” she said with a smile.

“Thanks, Jess,” you nodded with a soft smile. “You’re right. You can’t tell anyone this, but he actually kissed me last night.”

“He kissed you?” she gasped.

“Yeah, after we went swimming in the pool. We were alone, and it just happened. Neither one of us has brought it up since. I’m kind of afraid to,” you admitted.

“Some kisses aren’t meant to be mentioned,” she shrugged. “Do it again, see what happens.”

“We’ll see,” you smiled.

“I can see you’ve been through some stuff,” she pointed out. “Don’t forget to give yourself some time to heal. It can’t hurt. Don’t act on your feelings unless you’re one hundred percent sure it’s what you want. You have to be fair to you and him.”

“The day I met Dean was actually my wedding day. Well, I was supposed to get married. Found him fucking the maid of honour.”

“Can we get some drinks over here?” she shouted, making you laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Yep!” you nodded. “Oh and she’s about five and a half months pregnant.”

“Whiskey would be great!” She called out again. You shook your head, grinning widely. You really liked Jess. She was everything you wished you had in a female friend. Someone that listened and actually cared about the words coming out of your mouth. It was a different dynamic to the friendship you had developed with Dean.

“That’s my life right now,” you chuckled. Jess got up out of the booth, motioning for you to follow suit. You furrowed your brows, but followed her anyways. She was headed over to the bar counter.

“Excuse me sir,” she greeted the young bartender. “Can we get two doubles neat and two beers please?”

“Coming right up, Jess,” he smiled at her.

“Friend of yours?” you asked.

“My cousin, Andy,” she answered.

“Make good decisions,” he chuckled. “Where’s the boyfriend?”

“With his brother. They’re catching up. This is my new friend, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Andy and unfortunately related to her. She thinks she can come in here and boss me around,” he rolled his eyes.

“You love me and you know it,” she giggled. Andy poured the two whiskeys before grabbing two bottles of beer from the cooler, handing one to each of you.

“I’m serious, make good choices,” he scolded her before taking off.

“When have I ever listened to you again?” she teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

You walked back to the same table, taking the same seats. You took a sip of your whiskey, feeling the burn on your tongue instantly, followed by the same burn down your throat. It was bad, but so damn good at the same time. It had been so long since you last had a drink. Even longer since that drink was whiskey.

Jess continued to tell you about Sam, and their relationship. In some way, you were a little jealous of her relationship with him, because it was something you’ve never had. At the same time, it made you realize just how toxic your relationship with Ketch was. You hated how you stayed with him for so long. You hated that you let him treat you poorly, that you stayed after he laid a hand on you and even more that you agreed to marry him. It was all really starting to hit you that the relationship was a lot worse than you remember it being. You were so blinded by it all. You were so afraid of being a disappointment to your mom, yet again. You were so afraid of being alone that you let it all slide. You couldn’t believe that you thought that little of your worth when you were with him that you actually believed you deserved it all.

You downed the rest of your whiskey before moving onto your beer. Jess was in the middle of telling you about the day she got the tattoo on her shoulder and Sam made fun of her the entire time. You smiled while she told it. Seeing just how much she loved him made you happy.

“Sam and Dean are on their way,” she informed you. “I hope their dinner went okay. Speaking of which, we should order some food so we’re not drinking on an empty stomach.”

“That’s probably a good choice,” you chuckled. “See, we’re making good choices. What do they serve here?”

“Fries, nachos, salads which Sam gets all the time. Disgusting if you ask me. You never order a salad from a bar. Uh, chicken wings.”

“I want nachos,” you said bluntly.

“Good. So do I,” she giggled.

The nachos arrived at the table just before Sam and Dean walked in. Dean had a smile on his face, and you knew then that things went well over dinner. That was all you wanted. You didn’t want to stare too long at him, just in case he noticed. But watching him walk over to you with his thick bowlegs, and his strong arms. It did things to you. He did things to you.

“Hey sweetheart,” he smiled, sliding in next to you. Sam did the same on the other side, kissing Jess sweetly.

“Hey to you,” you smiled softly. “How was dinner?”

“Good,” he nodded with a smirk. “How was whatever you two did?”

“Whiskey,” you filled him in. “Whiskey and girl talk.”

“Oh fancy,” he chuckled. “Now the two of us, beer and nachos.”

“You got it. If you’re nice, you can even have a few,” you winked.

You munched away at the nachos, listening to the conversation that was going on at the table. It was amazing to see how much the atmosphere had changed since the restaurant. They seemed so much better, happier even. Dean needed it, and Sam probably did too. It was clear they got everything they needed out in the open. You couldn’t wait to hear all about it when you got back to the hotel room.

“Hey Jess, why don’t you go play Dean in a game of pool? I’d like to see who’d win,” Sam suggested.

“Me obviously,” Dean scoffed, getting up from the booth.

“Game on, older Winchester,” she stated, slamming her napkin down on the table. Sam got out of the booth, allowing his girlfriend to slide out. The two of them took over to the pool table not too far from your booth so you could still have a good view. What you didn’t expect was for Sam to slide in next to you, and turn to look at you.

“Hey,” you said, almost awkwardly.

“Hi,” he said with a laugh. “Thank you. My brother told me you’re the reason why he’s here. Like here right now, and breathing. I didn’t know it got as bad as that, and it’s my fault for not keeping in contact with him. I should have, and it’s on me that I didn’t. But to know that he was going to kill himself and you convinced him not to. I’ll never be able to thank you the way I know you deserve. Not only did you talk him out of it, but you gave him a place to stay. A home. He talks so highly of you. You’re the reason why he keeps going. You’ve given him so much that he’s never had. He deserves someone like you in his life. Even if you aren’t together like that.”

“Thank you, Sam,” you smiled. It meant the world to you to hear that from him. Even though he hadn’t been a big part of Dean’s life, he was still his blood. He still cared for his brother. To know that he knew how you met and what you did, and to be thankful for it. It meant a lot.

“You have feelings for him, don’t you?” he asked with a smirk playing on his lips. “I honestly thought you were his girlfriend.”

“No. Just friends,” you stated.

“Just friends but you have feelings for him?” he teased.

“You know, you and Jess are made for each other.”

“She gave you the same speech?” he let out a laugh. “That’s my girl. Anyone could see that you and Dean are good together. Friends or more.”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told her. I’m giving it time,” you shared lightly.

“Why?” he furrowed his brows.

“‘Cause I’m not sure I’m good enough for him,” you muttered. “I don’t want my issues to bring him down. I don’t want to be too much for him. I’m just his friend Y/N and I’ll always put that before anything else. I have to protect myself, and him in this.”

“You are good enough. Don’t ever think that you’re not,” he revealed. “You are more than good enough for him, or any guy you want. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Thanks Sammy,” you grinned weakly.

“I like that you want to protect him though. No one ever has like you have,” he shrugged.

“He doesn’t need it but I like doing it.”

Both of them seemed to think that you’d be good enough for him. But then again, neither of them knew the specifics. Sam knew about Dean and how he was feeling, but he didn’t know about you and all of your issues. He was your roommate. He was your best friend. He was the one who protected you. What if things didn’t work out? What if you resented each other, and he had no one left? What if things went so sour that he never wanted to speak to you again. You already had this underlying feeling that you weren’t good enough for him, and you weren’t. He did make a move on you when he saw you naked. Then again, it was one of those moments where it just felt right. Both of you were so close together, his body touching yours. Dean was a decent guy and would never do something that you weren’t comfortable with. But you wouldn’t be able to keep a man like him; not for long. You weren’t anything special. You weren’t worth falling in love with and you had the history to prove it. He had his eyes on someone else anyways. Last night clearly didn’t mean anything, or else something would have been mentioned about it. He loved you, but as his best friend. Someone to protect. Family.

You continued to watch Jess and Dean play while nursing your beer. It was really nice to see Dean happy. His smiles were genuine. He looked carefree and almost like he belonged here with the two of them. It made you wonder if he would ever consider moving to Palo Alto to be close to his brother. Have an actual fresh start here, where he had his brother instead of being a thousand miles away from him.

Sam got up and headed over to Jess while Dean joined you back at the table. The two of them were going to play a round, giving you a chance to talk to Dean. By the looks of it, she won that game, but Dean definitely wanted a rematch.

“Hey you,” he smiled, taking his seat.

“Hey to you, stranger,” you giggled. “Good game.”

“It was. She’s good,” he chuckled. “Sam and I are in a good place now. He’s going to come visit me in the summer with Jess. Stay a little while if it’s cool with you. We could always bunk together and they could have my room.”

“I like the sounds of that,” you smiled. “‘M glad you are in a good place with him, Dean. You deserve to have your brother in your life.”

“He likes you, by the way,” he told you. “Thinks you’re tough. You are.”

“Gotta be don’t I?” you cocked your eyebrow before bringing your beer up to your lips, taking a swing. You could feel his gorgeous green eyes on you as you swallowed the drink. His eyes were soft. In this light, his freckles looked almost invisible. “You wanna some?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking the beer from your hand. You watched as he brought the bottle up to his perfectly plump lips. You had to tear your eyes away from him. Why couldn’t you turn off your feelings for him? It would be so much easier.

“You okay?” he asked you, looking at you with concern written in his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just feeling a little off today. I feel like it’s all the driving and the lack of sleep.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you nodded.

“Anytime you want to head back to the room, you let me know. We can go whenever you want to,” he assured you. “We’re here another day before we leave. Sam’s got the whole day off tomorrow. I can hang out with him then before we head home. I gotta take care of you too.”

“I want you to enjoy your night with your brother. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“How about we call it a night at ten thirty. We’ll head back to the room and watch old reruns of whatever on that flat screen tv, and I’ll tell you all the details of dinner with Sam?” he offered.

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed. “As long as you won’t be mad when I fall asleep on you. Literally on top of you.”

“Nah,” he smiled.

Dean helped you out of the booth, and lead you over to the pool table where Sam and Jess were playing. It was amazing to watch her kick her boyfriend's ass. You enjoyed listening to the banter between them. It was competitive as hell, and sweet at the same time. What they had was something real. It was something you didn’t see everyday. Those two were meant to be.

Dean wanted a rematch with Jess. He was determined to win at least one game before you turned in for the night. You and Sam sat on the sidelines, watching intently while finishing off your nachos. The bar literally had the best nachos you had ever tasted. The cheese alone was to die for. Dean and Jess didn’t want either of you near the table while they played. Something about needing to focus away from distractions.

“He loves you, you know?” Sam said while looking over at the table.

“I know he does. Maybe not in the way I want him to, but I know he loves me,” you stated, glancing over at him. “He’s really great with me. More understanding than anyone I know. That’s why it makes me wonder why he was so alone before I met him. He’s got the biggest heart. He’s the most caring person I’ve ever met. The fact that he had no one, hurts me in ways I can’t even describe. Everyday, I am thankful that I found him on the side of that road. Every single day, and I will be for the rest of my life.”

“His biggest issue is that he gives too much of himself to people who don’t give even a quarter of themselves back to him. I’m guilty of that. I’ve taken advantage of him growing up. Girls he’s dated have. My dad did after my mom died. Some of his friends. I can see it in the way you look at him that you are different.”

“I’m learning to give myself to someone again. Kind of hard when things have gone south for me in the past. But Dean makes things a lot easier because of how understanding he is. Your parents would be proud of the two of you, you know that? I don’t even know you all that well, but I can see so much of Dean in you.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiled weakly. “That means a lot to me.”

“He told me you and Jess are going to come visit in the summer?” you cocked your eyebrow.

“Yeah. I’d like to come home. See my Uncle Bobby, and some friends. I want to spend some more time with Dean. You’ll have Jess,” he chuckled. “Hopefully by then, you’ll have figured everything out and you’ll finally tell him how you feel.”

“Shut up, Sam,” you rolled your eyes, shoving him over a little.

“You know it’s true,” he winked.

It was just after eleven when you and Dean entered your hotel room for the night. You were beyond exhausted and ready for bed. Dean locked the door up as you walked towards the bed. You lazily kicked your shoes off, falling on the bed right after.

“Tired, huh?” he chuckled.

“I’m sleeping in tomorrow. You can’t stop me,” you stated.

“I wasn’t going to,” he assured you with a soft smile playing on his lips. “You deserve to get lots of sleep tonight.”

“So do you, Winchester,” you yawned. You sat up, tearing your shirt from your body before getting up. You had left your pyjamas on top of your bag so you could easily change into them. Most of the effects of the alcohol had worn off. Not that you had much to start. You pushed your jeans down your legs next, pulling them off, along with your ankle socks.

“You can’t wait to get to bed, huh,” he let out a laugh.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, remember,” you pointed out.

“Oh I’m not complaining,” he declared. “By all means, take it all off.”

“You wish, Winchester,” you joked, keeping the tone light.

“You can’t blame a guy for staring, okay? Especially when the girl is as beautiful as you,” he played.

“Real smooth. It’s a wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend with your lines,” you teased him.

You went about your nightly routine. Brushing your teeth and washing your face. You were in bed before Dean was. The covers were up high, keeping you warm. Thankfully the bed was comfortable enough that you could fall asleep right away.

Dean shut off the lights, and headed over to the bed. You felt the mattress shift a little as he settled in next to you. You opened your eyes a little, glancing over at him with a tired smile playing on your lips.

“Today went really good,” he breathed out. “I never thought it was going to go as well as it did.”

“I’m happy you and your brother are talking again, Dean,” you muttered, your eyes locking with his.

“Jess is pretty great too. ‘M glad he’s got a good girl on his side. Makes me a little jealous, honestly,” he admitted. “They seem really happy together.”

“They are,” you told him. “She told me that Sam’s her one.”

“Really?” his eyes widened a little.

“She talked about him with a lot of adoration in her voice. It made me realize just how messed up my relationship with Ketch was. I can see why you’d want something like they have. I take it you’re more motivated to ask that girl out now?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I want to, but at the same time, I’m content with how my life is right now. I’ve got you right now, and we’ve got our friendship. I don’t want to change our dynamic right now, because it works so well for both of us. We’re each other's support team and I don’t want that to stop.”

“That’s fair. But don’t not live your life because of it, okay? If you think this girl could be good for you, you should go for it,” you stated. As much as it pained you to say it, you wanted him to be happy. All you wanted was for him to be happy. It was clear to you now that you weren’t the girl he was interested in. The kiss was a simple spur of the moment thing. It wasn’t meant to be talked about. It wasn’t meant to be brought up again. It hurt a little to say the least.

“Someday,” he shrugged with a tiny smile that made your heart speed up a little. “I got my best girl in the meantime. C’mere.”

You shifted closer to him, throwing your arm over his waist as you positioned yourself on his chest. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in tight to him. This was the best way to end the night. Safe in his arms. You were going to miss it when you got home and things went back to normal. This trip definitely made your feelings stronger. It was also a really big reminder that you couldn’t be with Dean like that. Not now. Not for a long time. By the time you were ready, he was going to be taken by someone else anyways. It wasn’t worth trying for. At the end of the day, you weren’t worth waiting for, and he had his eyes on someone else.

It was what it was.

~~~~~~~~~~

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response is what keeps me sharing! Without it, I wouldn’t know if you enjoyed it!

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inkslingersworld · 3 years

Text

Zusammen: Part II

A day in the life of Adrien Agreste would normally go over like this:

His alarm would wake him up at 7:00 on the dot, and it would either be set to some classical music his father had chosen for him or a random song of Plagg’s choosing. The sound of Adrien’s alarm was never decided by Adrien himself.

He would be showered and dressed by 7:15, finishing breakfast by 7:30 or 7:45, and at school by 8:00. Breakfast was always a lonely affair; his father, having awoken an hour before Adrien, would’ve finished breakfast already, and if not, he would be eating in his study or his bedroom or wherever. Whenever Adrien and his father did have breakfast together, it was always uncomfortable and silent, unless Gabriel decided to grill him on his tightly kept schedule. On a rare occasion, Nathalie would eat breakfast with him, though she was usually busy with overseeing ad designs and preparing press releases or whatever.

School would be over by 3:00; if it was a Monday, Wednesday, or Friday, Adrien would then spend the next hour honing his fencing skills, which actually a high point of the day, seeing as he got to do it with Kagami. Fencing lessons would end at 4:00, and he’d be expected home by 4:15, spending the next half hour or so on the piano. If his father was in a good mood (which he never was), then Adrien might be allowed to spend the time from 4:45 to 6:00 with his friends. He would need to be home no later than 6:30, he’d be finished with dinner by 7:00 at most, and be in his pajamas, teeth brushed, and in bed by 7:30.

After he’d started dating Kagami, Adrien had convinced his father to allow him to set aside time for taking Kagami places - to the movies, on walks, to the art museum. Last week, they’d gone to a food festival, and the two of them had had a blast navigating the unfamiliar terrain.

Lately, Gabriel had been setting Adrien’s alarm to the music of Francis Poulenc, particularly the composer’s Trois mouvements perpetuels and Piano Concerto in C-sharp minor, both of which Adrien would be performing at the upcoming music festival. The festival organizers seemed to be struck with a sort of mania for Poulenc, piling on more of his compositions to be showcased. Although Adrien thought Poulenc’s music was nice, he was more looking forward to Kitty Section’s performance. From what he’d heard, they would be playing some songs that Luka wrote, which interested Adrien. So far, all of Kitty Section’s music had been written by Rose.

And so all of this was on Adrien’s mind when his father unexpectedly seated himself at the dining table.

“Good morning,” Gabriel yawned.

“Good morning, father,” said Adrien slowly. So the elder Agreste had decided to show up after all.

“You were home very late last night,” Gabriel said, pouring coffee for himself. “If you continue to show up past 8:00, I may need to reconsider allowing you to pursue a romantic relationship with Miss Tsurugi.”

“We had an agreement,” said Adrien sternly. “I persuaded you to give me more time with Kagami than I would spend on other activities.”

“Well, if you’re planning to stay out that late, I may need to modify that agreement,” said Gabriel through a bite of toast. “It’s a dangerous world, and Ladybug and Chat Noir cannot protect you twenty-four hours of the day.”

Adrien had to stop himself from snorting. If only he knew.

“Have you memorized the Poulenc piece?” Gabriel asked.

“Yep,” replied Adrien. “Both of them.”

“Good,” said Gabriel. “I can’t have my son messing up in front of a live audience.”

Silence fell. Adrien knew that at any moment, his father could get up and leave, and he’d miss his opportunity to ask the question that’d been nagging him ever since he got home from his and Kagami’s walk.

“Father?”

Gabriel looked up from his tablet. “Yes?”

“I want to do something.”

Adrien realized how stupid that sounded, but his father seemed not to care.

“Something?” asked Gabriel. “Well, doing something is one-hundred percent more productive than doing nothing. What is this ‘something’ you wish to do?”

Adrien watched his father take a sip from his cup, staring across the table. He breathed deeply.

“I want to launch my own personal investigation into Mother’s disappearance.”

Gabriel coughed violently on his coffee, drops of his flying from his mouth and onto his pristine white suit. He looked at Adrien with a shocked expression.

“You want to what?” he choked.

“I want to find Mother,” said Adrien, frowning. He thought that his father would have liked this idea.

Gabriel regained his composure and wiped the coffee off his shirt. “Adrien, why would you want to do that? There are professional detectives searching for your mother, there is no need to get in the way of their progress.”

Adrien’s eyebrows shot up. “Progress? What progress? Have they found any leads? Clues? Anything?”

Gabriel took a few seconds to respond. “They’re quite certain that she hasn’t left the country. They believe she might be near the Riviera.”

“May I speak to these detectives?” asked Adrien hotly.

“They are very busy and do not take kindly to interruptions,” said Gabriel. “I can ask them for you, if you’d like.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Father, I’d like to ask them myself,” growled Adrien.

“But it’s not all the same to me,” Gabriel said calmly. “They would sooner speak with me than with a sixteen-year-old boy.”

“But she’s my mother!” Adrien protested.

“That wouldn’t matter to them,” explained Gabriel. “Adrien, they’re doing the best they can. I miss her as well, but we just need to let the investigation run its course.”

Gabriel got up, walked over to Adrien’s chair, and placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. To Adrien’s surprise, he smiled.

“Don’t worry,” said Gabriel soothingly. “I have a feeling she’ll be home soon.”

And without another word, Gabriel Agreste left the room.

===========

“He said to let the investigation run its course?”

Adrien and Kagami were seated on the steps of College Francoise Dupont. Fencing had just ended, and the other students had left the premises. Adrien was telling Kagami about what his father had said.

“That doesn’t seem like your father,” said Kagami thoughtfully. “From what you have told me, he took your mother’s disappearance pretty badly.”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed. “It really affected him. He’s not the type of person to let other people handle things that are in regard to himself. Why’s he just leaving everything to the detectives? I thought he’d take my side for once!”

“And he said he felt like she’ll be home soon?” Kagami asked.

Adrien nodded. “And he dissuaded me from contacting the people handling her case.”

“Why?”

“He said they’d sooner speak to him than with a sixteen-year-old boy,” scoffed Adrien.

“Let’s test that.”

Adrien turned to face Kagami. “What?”

“Let test that,” she repeated. “Let’s see if they’d actually tell you stuff.”

“But if they would, why would my father lie to me?” asked Adrien.

“I don’t know,” said Kagami. “But there’s something off about this. The police station’s just a block down that way.”

She pointed to the left.

“You’d help me?” Adrien asked.

Kagami laughed. “Of course I’m going to help you! I love you, and I want you to find your mother.”

Adrien felt his heart go ping again. It felt like a coin had been dropped into it and the clatter was echoing throughout a chamber.

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly.

Kagami gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t mention it. Now come on! Let’s go find your mother!”

Part 2 of my Zusammen AU!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

Four times he told them you were a friend and once he said you were his girlfriend

So this is sort of kind of what was requested, but I just did the same thing with Quinn Hughes and this idea came to me, so I hope you like this! Anyway it’s 2 am and I haven’t read through this so if there are typos ignore them (or point them out then maybe I’ll actually fix them).

This is the LONGEST thing I’ve written as one solid piece (it’s around 6.6k words, which I’ve never done before so that’s fun).

But keep supporting BLM, keep supporting organizations like GLSEN, just be a good person. Ok cool, you’re all great people, don’t worry.

______________

“Ok, hot guys at ten o’clock,” Ashley starts shaking your arm, sending your drink spilling all over your hand.

“Watch it!” you say, trying to steady the drink before you waste six dollars of beer, “Which ones, there’s like eight guys over there.” She can’t stop staring at the group of guys, all of them wearing very similar outfits of plain, tight-fitting t-shirts that show off their obviously fit bodies and a pair of jeans, ranging from light wash to black. A man’s wardrobe was a mystery.

“I want to go talk to them,” she says.

“Then go talk to them,”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Ash, why would I go talk to a group of boys when I’m here with Nick?”

“Because he’s not your boyfriend, you’re just fucking him and he is a hundred percent talking to other girls right now, so what’s the harm of flirting with another guy?” You exhale, knowing that she was right. As soon as you got to the bar, Nick left you to get drinks and you found him thirty minutes later without a drink for you and talking to a pretty redhead about who knows what. “You know I’m right. And that one has been checking you out anyway. Worst case you get a free drink or two and never see the boy again.”

You make eye contact with the curly-haired boy Ashley mentioned. He was pretty beautiful, and you had to admit that you melted a little when he smiled at you “Fine, let’s go,” you say, rolling your eyes as she squealed and dragged you over to the guys.

“Is it a common habit of yours to just stare at a girl before she succumbs and comes over to you or do you ever make the first move?” you say, standing in front of the curly-haired boy.

“Normally I would go up to them but I guess you beat me to it. And it looks like your friend already has her hold on Noah, so I guess both of you are pretty ambitious,” he says, nodding over to Ashley, who is already dragging Noah to the bar with her probably so they can get drunk together.

“Yeah, that seems right. Plus he’s hot, so I’d probably do the same,” you shrug as the boy moves over and motions for you to sit down. “So if that’s Noah, who are you?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you if you just called my friend hot and not me,” he jokes, leaning in a little closer, but Hanny is a pretty beautiful man so I’m not too offended. I’m Matthew.”

You can’t help but laugh at him; the amount of confidence he had in calling his friend beautiful was refreshing, Nick would be weird about it and start trying to make jokes that were never funny. You tell him your name and just start talking with him. There was something there between the two of you, but you were technically with Nick. But like Ashley said, what was the harm of flirting a little bit?

“So why are you here tonight?” Matthew asks you, getting up and leading you to the bar.

“One of my friends landed his dream job so we came to celebrate,” you tell him, motioning over to the group of boys standing at the other end of the bar.

“Which friend, I’ll buy him a drink,” he offers.

“The one next to that guy with the redhead draped over him.”

“Do you know him? They’re talking to each other.”

“Yeah, the girl is holding my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” he asks, nearly spitting out his beer. You didn’t seem like the type of girl who would try to cheat on her boyfriend, especially with him standing right there, and he really didn’t want to be involved in any sort of weird sexcapades with a girl he just met.

“Sort of, kind of, not really. We’re hooking up and we like each other, I think, but clearly we can hook up with other people. Or at least, he can hook up with other people,” you say, feeling weirdly sad all of a sudden. Of course, you liked Nick, how could you not? He was sweet, smart, funny, he was there for you when you needed him, but damn as soon as a girl looked at him the right way it was like you weren’t there until you called for him. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you that. You just seem like someone I can tell things to.”

“I’ve gotten that before. Then my dad says that I have a face that you can’t help but want to punch, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you swung that way, too,” he says, laughing, the curls on his head bouncing along with him, “But can I give you some advice?”

“Sure, why not?” you say, making eye contact with Nick, him flashing a cute smile and waving at you.

“If you both liked each other and you want to be together, which at least, you want to be, then you need to say something sooner rather than later to him. You’re pretty cool, and you deserve someone that makes you happy. Right now it seems like it’s him,” he says, nodding over to where to Nick was, the redhead sending daggers in your direction.

Before you know it, Nick’s arms are finding their way around your waist, him kissing your cheek before nestling his chin on your shoulder. “Hey, who’s this?” he asks.

“A new friend,” Matthew says, smiling at you.

Your phone buzzed with a text saying that he was ready to leave, even though you still needed another five minutes before you could even think about getting your shoes on. You dial him quickly, praying he doesn’t take long to pick up the phone as you throw it on speaker and run around your room trying to find the jewelry you wanted to wear. “You’re coming up here and helping me finish getting ready unless you want to wait another twenty minutes minimum. The doors open just come to my room,” you spit out at him before he even has the chance to finish saying ‘hello.’

You hear him mumbling something on the other end as he slams the door to his apartment to make his way to yours. By coincidence, he lived four floors above you, allowing for easy access when both of you had free time to just sit and watch a movie, or for nights like these when you were struggling to finish getting ready for the night.

“I’m here!” you hear Matthew call from the living room, walking to your room. “I cannot have the guys chirping me for being late tonight, especially when I got the time wrong last time and showed up an hour in,” he says, walking into your room. “You’re a mess.”

Your hair and makeup were done, but your dress was still unzipped due to your lack of flexibility to zip it, your necklace that you were going to wear was somewhere in the room but you had no idea where it would be, and you still had no clue what shoes you were going to wear. “Which is why you’re here so I can be less of a mess. Come here and zip me up, then pick out shoes for me to wear. Please? Please, please, please?” you beg.

He shakes his head and can’t help but laugh at how frazzled you can get when you’re on a time crunch. “You’re lucky I like you enough to even bring you to this event,” he says, doing as you ask. You could feel yourself tensing up as he slowly brought the zipper up, his hand at the bottom holding the zipper straight. You turn around to him, goosebumps all over you as you get a good look at him in his suit. Damn was he handsome. “Are you sure that Nick is alright with me taking you to this thing?”

“As long as I don’t hook up with anyone, he really doesn’t care. It’s not like any of you guys are a threat to our relationship, anyway,” you say as you try to find this necklace.

Matthew couldn’t help but feel a little upset over that comment. He loved that you were happy while dating Nick, and he genuinely seemed like a great guy for you, but part of him wondered what it would be like if you were together. “Well, a lot of them are already taken anyway, so unless there are a lot of strange single men roaming around the Flames Casino Night, I think you’re safe.” He picks up a pair of shoes for you to wear, praying that they actually go with your outfit and don’t kill your feet, something you had complained to him about during multiple nights out. Apparently, asking why you had shoes that hurt your feet was a dumb thing to do.

“Perfect!” you say, taking the shoes from him, trying to get them on without having to sit down. “And I found the necklace, so once this is on and I find where I put my bag, we’re good to go.”

“What could you possibly be bringing with you that you need a bag?” he groans, knowing that you were going to make them late.

“Keys, money, ID, lipstick for reapplying, tissues,” you start to list off as he rolls his eyes. “Ok, fine. But I don’t have pockets to hold things, so I need a bag.”

“I can hold the keys, money, and ID if you say you don’t need the other things and we can just go.”

“But what about my phone, I don’t want to hold it all night.”

He takes the stuff you hand him, grabbing your hand and dragging you out the door. “I have big enough pockets, don’t worry. These aren’t like female pockets where you could basically hold a penny and worry about it falling out.”

“That is not my fault and you had to know that was going to start a feminist rant from me as soon as you said it,” you start as you get into the Uber that was somehow already waiting for you outside. He laughs as you start going off about the sexist issues in women’s fashion, something he has heard more than enough times. At this point, he could probably recite the rant back to you word for word.

He listened to you better than Nick did; sure Nick listened, but when you talked to Matthew it was like he hung onto every word, trying to remember every detail down to how your eyebrow cocked as you said each sentence. Nick normally was just mentally undressing you until he could actually undress you. Not that you weren’t happy with Nick, but you couldn’t really help but wonder if you should be with Matthew or if he really was just your best friend.

Your rant lasted the entire ride to the event, Matthew doing everything in his power not to laugh at how passionate you were about stuff like this. He knew that you wanted to spend your life making a difference, and it helped that you were able to dive into an issue and find a reason to fix it.

“Ok, so you don’t have to play any of the games, the drinks I think are free for the most part but as we know I can be wrong an have been wrong before, and if you want your money, not to sound like a weirdly protective boyfriend, just come and find me.” Matthew tells you as you get out of the car. You loved coming to these events, and Matthew’s inability to hold onto a girl for longer than a few weeks, and his overall lack of female friends meant that you got to come to all of the events as his date.

“If it’s not free I’ll just find the nearest hot man and flirt with him until he buys something for me, kind of like the night we met,” you joke, taking in the sights and sounds of the event around you. Everyone in the Flames organization was there and then some, so maybe that was a possibility.

“Actually, Nick bought you drinks once he noticed you talking to me, I never actually bought you anything,” he points out, a little bite in his tone.

“Ok, snippy,” you shoot back, “Have fun, I’ll be at the bar.” You leave his side just as Noah went over to him, working your way through the crowd to the bar.

“There’s no way you already said something to piss her off, man. You just got here,” Noah says, dragging Matthew by the arm over to one of the tables.

“She brought up the night we met.”

“I still can’t believe that you convinced her to go for that guy instead of just asking her out yourself. What’s his name, Mick?”

“It’s Nick. How many people do you know named Mick?”

“Not the point.”

“Ok, fine. I didn’t ask her out because I saw how she looked at him. And she called him her boyfriend.”

“Which he wasn’t. And you could have been. She looks at him the way she looks at me, and as far as I know, I’m not her boyfriend. But I’ve seen how you look at each other. She sees you differently.” Noah pats him on the back, leaving him at the Blackjack table to fend for himself. He looks up to you, a guy with his back towards him leaning against the bar talking to you. You make eye contact and roll your eyes at him, biting your lip signaling that this guy was a total dud.

“Is that your girlfriend?” the stranger next to Matthew asks him, following his gaze to you. “She’s hot.”

“Nope, just a friend.”

III

“Who is this that’s getting married today?” you ask Matthew from the bathroom of the hotel room you were sharing with him, Brady and Taryn.

“A family friends daughter, I think her name is Isabella?” Brady answers instead, throwing an apple in the air and trying to catch it, only for Matthew to jump and snatch it before he can.

“Boys!” you yell as they start to wrestle each other for it. “Come on, if either of you leave this hotel room with a black eye we all know that your parents are going to assume it’s Matthew’s fault and then none of us can go to the reception.”

“Sorry,” they both mumble, Matthew handing back the apple to Brady.

“I like her. Please keep her around. I need more feminine energy when I’m around you two,” Taryn says from behind you, both of you fixing your hair in the mirror.

“Why did you get to bring a date and I couldn’t?” Brady asks his brother, you and Taryn rolling your eyes.

“Because the girls you know wouldn’t be able to pay their way and Y/N has an actual job with an actual income so I wouldn’t have to foot her bill.”

“I thought you did get a plus one and you just had no one to bring?” you yell to them, Taryn trying not to burst out laughing.

“You’re not even Matthew’s girlfriend!” Brady protests, Matthew’s face getting red.

Brady knew that he liked you; the first time the family met you, he had picked up on it right away. Taryn had a feeling something was going on, but she wasn’t about to poke fun at Matthew for it like Brady would.

“I’m a girl who’s a friend which is more than what you have apparently,” you fire back, causing Brady’s face to turn red in return.

“Are you two almost done?: Matthew whines, checking his watch. He was the one in charge of getting the four of you to the wedding, and if you were late, he was definitely getting yelled at for it.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, we need to hurry up. The wedding starts in an hour and it’s a five minute walk down the street and from the sounds of it, your parents haven’t even left either, so you can wait the few seconds it’s going to take us to finish getting ready,” you say, coming out of the bathroom to get your shoes on. As soon as Matthew saw you, he felt himself stop breathing. Any time you were dressed up he got that way. He felt that way when he saw you for every charity event, yet he never told you, he felt that way when you met that night at the bar. Damn, he hated the friend zone.

“Yeah,” Taryn says, following you out and plopping down on the bed beside you to get her shoes on. “What?” Taryn says when her brothers shoot her weird looks, “She said everything, why can’t I just agree with her?”

The four of you make your way down to the lobby of the hotel to start on your way to the wedding venue. It was at a different hotel than the one you were staying at, down the street as you walked through the center of Chicago. You all look great walking down the street as Brady let the way with Taryn by his side. You and Matthew were a few paces behind, your feet already hurting from the shoe that you knew you were going to take off as soon as you got to the reception.

A guy catcalls you, something you just ignore as Matthew yells, “That’s my girlfriend,” at the guy as he pulling you in by the waist, glaring at the guy as you walk by.

All you can do is roll your eyes at both of them. Matthew still wasn’t used to girls being hit on in the streets by guys, so whenever you were out with him, any girl who was hit on in an unwanted manner suddenly was his girlfriend until the man was out of sight.

“Thanks,” you say, Taryn and Brady waiting for you outside the door of the hotel as Matthew drops his arm from your waist, praying that neither of them saw you keep it there longer than he needed to.

“She has a boyfriend, remember,” Brady whispers to his brother as he lets you and Taryn in before them.

“Don’t you think I know that? I would do that for anyone,” Matthew hisses back.

“Do you look as comfortable with them as you did with her?”

“Shut up, Brady.”

“Yeah, shut up, Brady,” Taryn says, causing you to burst out laughing. Taryn was probably your favorite of the three Tkachuks, but you could never tell Matthew that.

“You don’t even know what we were talking about?” Brady says, confused.

“I don’t have to know to tell you to shut up.”

“If any of you kill each other, it’s not my fault,” you say, grabbing Matthew and going to find seats.

Brady and Taryn follow each other, his parents finding you not long after. They still didn’t know you very well other than as Matthew’s ‘best friend that isn’t a hockey player.’ You sit with them through the wedding, your leg shaking for no reason other than the fact that you’ve always had a hard time staying still. Matthew lays his hand on your thigh to try to calm you down, which worked a little, only for you to start shaking the other leg.

“Can you stop?” Matthew whispers to you, a smile on his face and his hand still on your thigh. You can feel his dad looking at the scene unfolding, his eyebrow raised like he does whenever Matthew does something that catches his eye.

“Physically, no. You should know that by now,” you whisper back, Brady shushing you so he can pretend to listen to what was going on.

You sit through the rest of the wedding, not noticing that Matthew’s hand is still on your thigh. He knew he had it there, though. His entire family say it there. Matthew couldn’t focus on what was being said in front of him as Isabella got married to whoever the hell Oliver was in her life. You had a boyfriend. Nick was still in the picture. You two had just celebrated your two year anniversary a little while ago, which means that you and Matthew had met a little over two years ago, too. He was well aware of when it was, but to you, it seemed like it didn’t matter. The last two years made it feel like you had known him forever, so who cared?

“I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride!” whoever was giving the wedding said, everyone around you cheering as you stood up and Matthew finally took his hand off your thigh to clap along with everyone else.

“Is it bad that the only thing that I really want from this wedding is the open bar?” Matthew leans over to you, praying that his parents don’t hear him because they’ll scold him for it.

“No, because that is exactly where I will be for the night,” you say as everyone starts heading to the room where the reception is.

“So, wait, you haven’t talked about you and Nick in a while. How are things going with that? He’s alright with you coming as my date to this, right?” Matthew says, leaning against the bar.

“Uh, he thinks that I’m visiting Ashley in Winnipeg,” you say, hating that you admit that you were lying to your boyfriend about where you were this weekend.

“Why would he think that?” All of Matthew knew this was a bad thing: lately, Nick seemed to be getting upset with you about how much time you had been spending with him in your apartments rather than going out with Nick to a bar every single weekend.

“Because he would get pretty mad at me if I told him that I was with you in another country for a wedding.”

“You didn’t have to come with me if you didn’t want to. You know that I don’t want you to feel like you have to come with me to stuff, especially if it’s going to cause problems with you and Nick,” he says, not making eye contact with you.

“He’s not allowed to tell me that I can’t be friends with you. If he has an issue with it, then he needs to say something about it,” you say as the bartender comes over to you and takes your drink order.

“But then why did you lie?”

“I didn’t want to come to the wedding just going through a breakup, because he would a hundred percent dump me if I told him I was with you right now.”

“Y/N/N. If he’s like that then why don’t you just dump him? I mean, you’re amazing. But a guy shouldn’t have to control who you spend time with in order to see that,” he says, his hand finding your arm.

“Aw, I love you, Matty,” you tell him, putting your hand on his. The bartender comes back with your drink, you taking it and turning towards the rest of the wedding, “I’m going to go get food. I’ll see you at the table?”

Matthew nods, watching you walk away. The bartender, doing the same thing says, “You’re a lucky man,”

“Sorry?”

“To have someone like her as a girlfriend?”

“Oh, no. She’s just my friend.”

Ice cream? Check. No romance movies in sight? Check. A big bottle of wine that you were planning on drinking without a glass? Check. Snuggled in your favorite hoodie that you may or may not have stolen from Matthew? Check.

You turn on Dead Poets Society, the only movie you can think of that doesn’t have more than ten minutes of romance so that you don’t start crying over the fact that you just dumped Nick a little over a week ago, even though it had been coming for a long time. You came back from the wedding with Matthew to find that Nick had been following your location on Snapchat and saw that you were in the States and not in Winnipeg. You got into a huge fight, ending it by screaming, “I would rather be with Matthew than with you, so we’re done,” and you storming out of his place and driving back to yours sobbing. The only person you had told so far was Matthew, and you were still, for some reason upset about it. Probably because you wasted more than two years of your life on the wrong person when you could have been with the one your friends told you to be with the entire time.

Robin Williams is having his students recite lines of poetry and then kick the ball as hard as they can when a picture of you and Matthew being slightly drunk idiots at the wedding pops up on your phone.

“What?” you answer, angry that your sad-fest was being interrupted by him.

“You’re too pretty to be sitting at home alone and single on a Saturday night. I’m coming over in twenty minutes with a pizza and the two of us are going out,” he says on the other end, hanging up before you can say otherwise. You did say you would rather spend your time with Matthew instead of Nick, so why not start now?

But that didn’t mean you were going to be moving from the couch until he came, it was early enough that you didn’t need to start getting ready until after you ate.

On cue, Matthew starts banging on your door, yelling for you to let him in. “You can’t wear my sweatshirt out tonight,” he says, walking past you and plopping down on the couch.

“I’m getting dressed after we eat, calm down,” you say, taking a piece of pizza and shoving it in your mouth.

“Hey, I know you’re upset, which is why we’re going out tonight to get your mind off him Plus, one, he was a jackass, two, he was controlling, and three, it’s my fault anyway,” Matthew says, his eyes not leaving the pizza.

“How is it your fault?”

He looks at you, his curls moving slightly as he turned his head faster than you were expecting, “You were fighting because you were lying about spending time with me, and I’m the one who encouraged you to be with him in the first place. And I have been kicking myself for that every day since,” the last part he mutters under his breathe, you not even catching that he said it.

“I should have broke it off with him when he started getting mad about who I was spending time with. He was never mad about me spending time with Ashley, he just didn’t want me spending time with you. He was jealous of you.”

“Me? Why?” His heart was racing. Guys maybe dumb on the outside, but they know when another guy is into their girl, even if they don’t act on it.

“He always thought that you liked me, or something,” you say, laughing as you bight into the pizza. Maybe a part of you always liked him, too. You finish the piece, taking another one to bring to your room so you can start getting ready. “I’ll be back in like twenty minutes? Do I need to put on makeup, do you think?”

“How much do you care and how long will it take?”

“Not enough and too long.”

“Then no.”

“Sweet,” you say, going to your room with the pizza hanging out of your mouth. You get ready in what was probably record time, throwing on a crop top and jeans, your hair in a ponytail and just putting on mascara instead of doing a full face of makeup. “I need another piece before we go get drunk,” you tell him, throwing your bag down and taking another piece.

“I was planning on finishing this entire thing and then leaving, so hurry up, there are two more pieces.”

“One for you, one for me?” you suggest, reaching for the piece. You were already feeling better, seeing that he put away the ice cream for you, leaving the bottle of wine out in case you wanted to drink it, even though he had already been drinking from the bottle while you were getting ready. None of you cared, you just knew that it meant he would be buying you a drink tonight.

You both down the pizza, bringing the box with you on the way down to the Uber, excited to go out and just forget about Nick. “Where are we going?” you ask Matthew. He ordered the Uber, only telling you that it was somewhere you had been before.

“It’s only fitting that we go back to the last bar you went to as a single woman now that you are, again, a single woman,” Matthew says, getting you out of the car in front of the bar you met at. You can’t help at how excited he was to be there, you actually hadn’t been to that bar since that night you met Matthew. The two of you beeline to the bar, Matthew ordering you a drink.

“So, this is going on your tab since you drank my wine, right?” you say, him rolling his eyes at you.

“That bottle was so big, there was no way could have noticed that!” he let’s out.

“Don’t mess with a girl and her wine.”

He rolls his eyes again, pulling you in for a hug and kissing your head. “You’re gonna make some guy really lucky,” he laughs, as you smile and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Here’s for you,” the bartender says, coming back with two drinks and handing the first one to Matthew, “and here’s for your girlfriend?”

“Nah, just a friend,” he says, smiling at you as you playfully shove him. ‘Friends for now,’ he thinks to himself.

+one

Thank god he gave you his debut card or else this would not be an order you could afford on your own. Plus, it was his family that was flying in; when he met your family, you paid for the baked goods. His family was just bigger and more anxious so come see him since he was spending the summer here in Calgary with you instead of at home with them like he normally does.

“Hi, sweetie,” one of the older ladies who works at the bakery says when she sees you waiting, “Your usual for you and Matthew?”

Part of you hated that you had a usual order there, but the other part of you simply didn’t care that you frequented a local business enough that they know you. “Not today, actually. Matthew called in an order earlier in the week for pick up? It should be under his name.”

She goes into the back where they keep the orders, “Tkachuk?” she calls out, as you reach to take the order.

As your hand reaches to get the box, someone else goes for it, too. “Oh, sorry!” you say before seeing who it is. “Mr. Tkachuk, how are you?”

“Hi, Y/N, how are you doing? And come on, I’ve told you to call me Keith,” Matthew’s dad insists.

“I’m good, uh, Keith, I’m actually picking up this stuff for you guys tonight,” you say, gesturing to the large boxes of pastries Matthew had apparently ordered. You had no idea what he got, but all you know is if he didn’t have the lemon meringue mini pie that you loved, you were throwing hands. The other thing you knew was that Matthew’s parents and siblings were in Calgary to meet his new girlfriend. They knew he had been dating her for a while, that she lived with him, and that they already knew her. They didn’t know you were her.

“And here I am ordering stuff Chantal insisted we bring for you guys tonight. I know what Matthew loves, but what about his girlfriend, do you know her? What does she like?” he asks, squinting at the hand-written over head menu.

“Uh, yeah, I know her pretty well. She loves the lemon meringue mini pies. It’s kind of a coin toss as to whether or not Matthew remembers to order them for her.”

“That boy,” Keith says, shaking his head, “Guess he’s not going to be with this girl for that long if he can’t even think enough to get something she loves.”

You feel yourself not breathing at what he just said. Shit. Does he mean that Matthew doesn’t care enough about you to remember something as simple as a dessert that you like or that you would get fed up with it and end up breaking up with him. “Um, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” you say, trying to stop your voice from shaking. You’ve met his family plenty of times; but them not knowing you were officially dating was keeping you on the edge.

“Are you walking over to Matthew’s place or did you drive?” Keith says, not taking his eyes off of the case full of desserts.

“I walked, but I still have some other stuff to pick up while Matthew gets dinner finished,” you tell him, trying to inch your way towards the door without seeming overly rude.

“Alright then, we’ll see you at Matthew’s,” Keith says, still not looking up. Thank god, because the amount you were probably sweating would have been a little suspicious.

On your way out, you call Matthew. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” he says on the other end, the sound of pans clattering in the background. “Ah, fuck.”

“What did you drop?” you say, knowing him well enough.

“One of the pans, what else did it sound like?” he says.

“Was there food in it?” you ask. Nothing but silence from his end for a solid five seconds before you start, “What do I need to pick up on my way home now?”

“More sweet potatoes,” he says in a small voice, “Oh, and more Brussel sprouts.”

“You dropped both?” you say, going into the grocery store, arms already dull of the pastries. You really didn’t think this through with the walking and how much you were going to have to carry.

“No, I just already ate most of the sprouts and my mom said she was looking forward to them.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. A tough guy on the ice, but dear lord was he a child when it came to so much else. “Your dad didn’t mention anything about that when I saw him.”

“When did you see him?” he asks, another thing hitting the floor in the background, “Fuck! Can you get more cinnamon, too?”

“Ok, babe, you need to close things after you’re done with them so if they fall on the floor they don’t spill everywhere. And I just ran into him at the bakery, they should be on their way soon,” you tell him, picking out the vegetables he wanted.

“Good, my mom can help me clean then,” he lets out. “But what did my dad say, he normally puts his foot in his mouth without trying to.”

“Well, he asked me what your girlfriend would want for dessert and then said that if you can’t remember to get her what she likes then the relationship would be ending sooner rather than later.”

“Hey, that was one time I forgot to get you a lemon meringue pie and that was because I went when you were literally on the way to the airport for that conference,” he defends himself, making you laugh again. You probably looked like a maniac since you had your AirPods in with your hair covering your ears, but this was probably a normal scene in today’s society anyway. “But, hey, you’ve moved in already. I’m in this for the long haul, buttercup.”

You can’t help but smile when he says that as you try to check out by balancing the desserts in one hand while trying to find your wallet with the other. “Buttercup? There’s a whole world of pet names and NHL tough guy Matthew Tkachuk chooses ‘buttercup?’”

“Fine, then your nickname is...” he hesitates, “Garlic Powder.”

On your way back home, you stop out of shock from what he just said, “You really just opened the cabinet above the stove and called me the first thing you saw, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” he says, again in a small voice. In the background, you can hear someone trying to get in to come up to us, hopefully, his family. “The rest of the Tkachuks are here, how far away are you?”

“I’m a block away, so I’ll be there soon.”

“Alright, see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He hangs up, leaving you to walk back the rest of the way with just your thoughts. He’s in this for the long haul, but a father knows his son. On the other hand, it’s not like he pulls stuff like that all the time; that really was just one time and he’s made up for it in more ways than one.

You get to your building, mentally cursing the fact that you didn’t ask him to have someone wait to help you bring the stuff up. Trying to balance everything was going to end worse than Matthew in the kitchen, but he insisted on cooking for his family as you finally told them you were dating.

“Hi!” you say, struggling to open the door as Brady rushes to you and starts taking the boxes from you. “Thanks, Brady.”

“We thought you would be the girlfriend,” he admits, following you into the kitchen where Matthew is with his mom, still cleaning up the cinnamon from the floor.

“Don’t worry, you already know her.”

“Oh, really?” Brady questions. Matthew had been keeping his girlfriend a secret for a while, but he had his suspicions as to who it was for a while regardless.

“Dinner’s ready!” Chantal calls, her and Matthew bringing the food from the kitchen over to the table.

“I guess we’re having the sweet potatoes another time?” you ask Matthew, a little annoyed that you had to make the extra trip.

“They brought some with them and they’re in the oven now? As soon as they came in my mom goes, ‘You always knock something over, so we figured we’d bring vegetables with us.’ Taryn couldn’t keep a straight face,” Matthew says, visibly upset by this.

You roll your eyes and bring him in for a hug, his entire family out of sight as he kisses you on the top of your head. “They just know you well.” You steal a quick kiss, him following you over to the table where his family is already helping themselves to the food he had made.

“So, where is this girlfriend of yours?” Keith asks, eying both of you. It’s very possible they already knew you were dating; there were six places set and they probably figured out that you were staying for dinner.

“Well, Y/N is my girlfriend, now.” Matthew says, bringing you in for a side hug.

“I thought you were dating at the wedding?” Keith asks, “You had your hand on her leg the entire time, and it was pretty obvious something was going on.”

“Uh, no, that was a year ago, we’ve been together for about eight months now?” you say, looking at him. He shrugged it off, wanting to pretend that he had no idea. But he knew it was eight months, two weeks and a day since he asked you to be his girlfriend.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #flames #flames imagine #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #noah hanifin #brady tkachuk #both of them are mentioned so leave me alone #who actually reads my tags anyway?

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alarawriting · 4 years

Text

52 Project #30 (Writeober #15: Mortality): Everybody’s Happy As The Dead Come Home

Ever since my mother died of breast cancer a few years ago, I’ve been making time to go visit my elderly father about once a month. That may be conjuring up the wrong image in your head, so let me clarify. My father’s over 70, but he still has a lot of the energy he had as a younger man. He works as a consultant for the big corporation he spent his entire adult pre-retirement life working for, for about three or four times as much money, and he enjoys it. He’s got an active social life, spending time with friends he had shared with Mom as a couple, and new friends he’s made from his bereavement group or his consulting work. And my sister, the baby of the family, lives with him, and my two younger brothers come to visit him a lot more often, since they live a lot closer than I do. So if you’re imagining a lonely, stooped old man pining away in a house that smells like stale cat food – that’s not my dad, and I can’t imagine it would ever be.

I arrived late on a Friday night, as usual. My sister met me at the door, and actually looked me directly in the eye. Stephanie’s autistic; she never looks anyone in the eye. “Eleanor,” she said, and that was another strange thing, because she almost never calls anyone by name… unless she’s doing it for emphasis. “When you find out, don’t say anything about it,” she said.

“About what?” Most of the time Stephanie makes sense, but every so often she says something that sounds like her mind has jumped ahead in the conversation without realizing all the missing pieces she never bothered to say.

“You’ll know,” she said. “And you’ll want to ask ‘why’ and ‘how’, and I’m telling you that you can’t do that. Don’t ask any questions. Just come talk to me after you’re done.”

“Done with what?” I asked.

And then a voice called me from the TV room. “Lennie? Lennie, is that you?”

Only my mom and dad are allowed to call me Lennie. And that was a woman’s voice. I froze in place.

“Go see her,” Stephanie said, and headed off to her room.

I turned toward the TV room, slowly. “Lennie! Come out and see me!” my mom’s voice called.

I didn’t know whether to be terrified, or to start crying and fling myself into her arms. I walked very slowly, very cautiously, to the edge of the kitchen, where I could see my parents in the TV room. Both of my parents. My dad was smiling.

“Lennie!” my mom said, standing up. She hadn’t been able to stand up without help for months before she died, but here she was, standing up easily. She didn’t look any younger than she had when she died, but she looked healthier. The extreme thinness she’d suffered from at the end after it had metastasized and she’d barely been able to eat was gone; her flesh was filled out, her skin as taut as you could expect from a woman her age, and healthy-looking. Pale, but her natural paleness, not the weird, sallow, almost yellow color it had been at the very end.

“Mom?” I whispered.

“Come here. I need a hug,” Mom said, sounding exactly like she always had – joking, but there was always that note of truth under it. She didn’t wait for me to make my way to her – she never had, not until she was too ill to get up – but came straight for me and gave me a hug, and she smelled like herself. Not like a rotting corpse, not like ozone or nothing or whatever a ghost is supposed to smell like.

When I was a kid, my brother Jeff and I watched the miniseries version of “The Martian Chronicles”. In particular, he was always impressed (and terrified) by the part where the astronauts meet their long-lost loved ones, who turn out to be Martian shapechangers luring them to their deaths. I always wondered, if the people they saw on Mars were dead, how did they fall for it? How did they not know that dead people could not somehow be on Mars?

As I held my mom, who’d been dead a few years now, I understood. They’d wanted to believe. I wanted to believe. Stephanie had warned me not to ask anything – no “how are you not dead”, “how can you be here”, “why are you alive,” nothing like that. I assumed that was what she’d meant, anyway.

“Mom, I’ve been trying to trace some of my past that I’ve forgotten. Do you remember the name of my third grade teacher?”

“Huh.” My mom seemed to be thinking about it. “I think it was Mrs. Wilder, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. Second grade was Ms. Jenner, right? And fourth was Mrs. White?”

“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t, in fact, remember my third grade teacher’s name, and neither did my dad. The Martians in the story had been telepaths; they’d been able to perfectly impersonate the astronauts’ loved ones because they could read the astronauts’ minds. Now I had a piece of information whose answer I didn’t know, and no way to easily confirm it unless Jeff remembered; he was only two years younger than me and had had some of the same teachers. But some of the people I had friended on Facebook were high school classmates, and a tiny number of my high school classmates had also been with me in elementary school, and might remember my third grade teacher’s name.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” my mom said. “What’s going on in your life?”

“Oh, you know,” I said. “Things are going okay. Mom, if I’d known you were here I’d have brought the kids.”

“You can bring them up next time,” Mom said.

This was so weird. My mom was definitely dead. I had seen her body in the coffin, lying in state, looking nothing like she had in life. But here she was, impossibly, and I was holding an almost normal conversation with her. “Have Jeff or Aaron come over since you’ve… been here?”

“Jeff was here last weekend,” Dad said. “And Aaron lives next door, so he’s been over nearly every day.”

My grandparents used to live next door. When they died, my mom and my uncle inherited the house. My uncle bought out my mom’s share and rented the house out, and my youngest brother ended up renting it. My other brother lives in an apartment down in the city; I’m the odd one out, living in a completely different state, with a husband and kids.

So all of them had known, and none of them had told me. I expected Stephanie and Aaron to never tell me anything, but I was more than a little irritated with Jeff.

“Let me go drop off my stuff,” I said, since I was still carrying my bag.

I went back to Stephanie’s room, which used to be my room, a long time ago. The boys used to room together, but my room was too small for Stephanie to share with me, and she had needed a lot of space of her own… so they’d converted the loft in the garage into a bedroom. It had never been warm in the winter, though, so as soon as I moved out, Stephanie had moved in.

Stephanie was, as usual, on her computer. I shut the door behind me. “Okay. What the hell is going on?”

“She’s not the only one,” Stephanie said, without looking away from her computer. “I’ve been doing research. They’re all over the place. There’s no explanation yet, and apparently none of them will talk about it. I asked Mom and she said I was really rude, and sulked and was really passive-aggressive.”

“So we’re not worried about Mom turning into a Martian shapechanger or vanishing, we’re just worried that she’ll get mad?” To be fair, making Mom mad had always been a thing worth avoiding at all costs. “When did she come back?”

“I don’t know exactly, but presuming that she came to see me right after she came back, it would have been Monday around 3 pm.”

“And no one told me? You have my email address!”

“…It just didn’t feel right, telling you something like this in email. I felt like I should wait for you to be here.”

“And Jeff didn’t? And Aaron didn’t?”

Stephanie shrugged. She still didn’t look away from her computer. “They probably felt the same way.”

“Does Dad… know? Like, does he even remember that Mom is dead, or does he think this is normal?”

“I didn’t ask him.”

I sat down on her bed. “Steph, I’m asking you to make an informed guess. Has he said anything to you that would either suggest that he’s aware this is abnormal, or that he isn’t?”

“I don’t read minds, but I haven’t heard anything from him one way or the other. He’s very happy, though.”

“I got that impression,” I told her. I went to the guest room, which used to belong to the boys, opened up my laptop, and sent Jeff a question on Facebook about my third grade teacher.

Mom appeared while I was debating whether or not to also ask him why the hell he hadn’t told me about her. “Lennie, don’t hide in your room. Come out and talk to me and your dad. You need to catch me up on your life!”

Part of me wanted to break down crying. Part of me wanted to run to the car. Part of me was annoyed the way I always used to be annoyed when my mom wanted to spend time with me and I had stuff to do. And part of me hated myself for being annoyed by my mom for any reason at all. She was back from the dead and I wanted to hide in my room? But I wanted to hide in my room because I wanted to do research to figure out if this was really my mom or not. And what had Stephanie meant by “all over the place”? People all over the place had returned from the dead? Why wasn’t this all over the news?

What I said was, “Okay, mom,” and I went out to the TV room to talk to her.

***

Here I was, having a completely mundane conversation with a dead woman.

Yes, my husband was doing well at his consulting business. Yes, my oldest daughter was doing well in college. My youngest daughter had a rough spot a few years ago but was doing better. The daughter in the middle was putting a lot of time into her music, and was getting really good. I didn’t mention that my oldest daughter had gotten a diagnosis of autism like her aunt, or that my middle daughter was failing all her subjects because all she cared about was music, or that my youngest daughter was openly bisexual and dating a nonbinary teen in her class, because those would be fraught topics around here. My mother would be openly disapproving of the failing in school – as was I, but I wasn’t here to listen to a lecture about what I should be doing differently to make sure Rhiannon passed her classes – and she’d be what she thought counted as supportive about the other things. Are you sure it’s a good idea for Janie to have an autism diagnosis on her medical record? Lots of people will discriminate against her, just ask Stephanie, it’s not a good thing to admit to the world. And if Lori wanted to date a person who claimed to have no gender, good for her, but was she sure it was a good idea to admit to the world that she was bi when the world is so prejudiced? Blah blah blah. No. I wasn’t going there, not with my mother back from the dead.

All the questions I wanted to ask. How? How was she back? Why? Was there an afterlife after all? What was it like? Are you absolutely sure you’re not a telepathic shapechanger who wants to eat us? Is anyone else coming back or is it just you? But I couldn’t do it. My mouth wouldn’t make the words, and I felt like Mom being alive was a soap bubble that might burst any moment. If I said she was dead, would she disappear? I couldn’t take the risk.

Now I knew why Jeff and Aaron hadn’t told me. The compulsion not to talk about it, the fear that talking about the circumstances of her death and her apparently-no-longer-deadness would cause her to stop being no-longer-dead. I wouldn’t be able to tell my husband about this, or my kids, not unless they came here. Not without feeling like Mom might disappear if I did.

Which was probably how Stephanie had gotten away with it, in the beginning. If this was some kind of emotional pressure, something emanating from the presence of a dead woman... Stephanie was typically immune to emotional pressure. Or pretended she was, anyway. She hid behind her monotone and her face that barely expressed anything until she couldn’t, and then she’d go and have a meltdown in the bathroom. But she wanted to please Mom. We all wanted to please Mom. So if Mom had told her she was rude for mentioning the death thing, Stephanie would be unable to mention it again. Because she wouldn’t want Mom to think she was rude.

This felt very much like I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone. Dead mother back to life, check. Weird inexplicable pressure not to talk about it, check. But Mom clearly remembered things that had happened shortly before her death, and showed no evidence of knowing about anything that had happened since, unless it was public knowledge. She talked about interests the girls had had three years ago, interests they’d all outgrown since. She talked about my plan to remodel my own garage – I had completely forgotten that was even a thing we’d planned at one point, because I’d lost my job shortly after Mom died and then the money wasn’t there for the remodel. She didn’t know I was working with my husband in the consulting business now, which a telepath would obviously know because it dominates my life nowadays. Obviously a Martian telepathic shapechanger would have to pretend not to know things that supposedly happened while they were dead, but if I’d forgotten about the garage, what were the odds a telepath could pull it out of my head? There had to be more accessible thoughts in there, after all.

I didn’t know what to ask Mom. How do you feel? That was always a good one, back in the day, because Mom’s chronic illnesses meant there was always something she could complain about, but she wouldn’t do it until she was asked… she’d just quietly resent the fact that no one had asked her. But did dead people still feel things? Would that intrude on the topic I wasn’t supposed to talk about? What’s going on in your life? Oh, nothing much, Lennie, I’m back from the dead, how about you?

So I talked about myself. I was learning to work leather and I’d made myself a wallet, but I left it at home, I could bring it to show her next time. I was also learning to repair dolls. The girls had all abandoned theirs and I felt bad about it, so I was cleaning them up and repairing them and putting them in dioramas. Mom was very interested in both topics, and asked if I could repair some old dolls she had up in the attic. I was pretty sure I’d already done it – if it was the dolls I was thinking of, Dad had given them to me right after Mom died, and they were the ones I’d learned on. But was it safe to talk about? Dad wasn’t saying anything; had he forgotten he gave me the dolls, which was entirely possible, or did he think it wasn’t safe to talk about either?

I’d wanted for three years to be able to tell my mom that she was wrong about all the weight loss advice she’d given me because now it had come out that scientists had never proven that fat made you fat and the low-carb diets were probably better for you than the low-fat ones, but I didn’t know if she could still eat. Also, my mom was back from the dead and I wanted to start an argument with her about a topic I’d always hated when she talked about? Didn’t I have anything better to do? That really kind of made me a shitty person, didn’t it?

When Mom had been dying, I couldn’t talk to her about the future. I didn’t know how to bring myself to talk about things she’d never see. I’d never known how much my conversations with her consisted of me talking about future plans until I couldn’t any more. Now I couldn’t talk about the future or the past, at least not the past three years, and large parts of the present had to be left out too, because I didn’t know what would remind her that she was dead and make her go back to her grave. Even though, logically, I knew that was unlikely to happen because Stephanie had done it and had just gotten a rebuke that that was rude.

At the same time… I knew I had to say something that Mom could talk about, because if I just talked about myself all night, later on she’d probably make some passive-aggressive remarks about how everything always had to be about me. In desperation, I asked her if she’d seen anything good on television lately.

“Oh, I haven’t been watching anything in a while,” Mom said. “It’s been so long since I felt well enough to go anywhere, so I’ve been going for walks, and your father and I have been taking trips to museums and historic sites. We’re going to be going up to Boston next week.”

“I have a client up there,” Dad said, “and they want me to do a training thing. And I was telling them, no, no, Boston’s too far, but I remembered how much your mom loved Boston, so I asked her if she wanted to go and she said yes, so now we’re going. We’re going to fly, though. The days I was willing to drive that kind of distance are long over.”

“You could take the Amtrak.”

Dad made a dismissive gesture. “It’s gotten so expensive. Flying’s actually cheaper.”

“When are you going?”

“Next Wednesday we’re going to fly up there,” Mom said, which said something about her opinion of the future, at least. “Your dad’s got his presentations to do on Thursday and Friday, and I’ll wander around the city, and then we’ll spend Saturday seeing the sights together.”

“There’s this fantastic restaurant I went to last time I was up there on business,” Dad said, “and I checked their web page, and they’re still open. So we’re going to go there.”

So Mom could eat. Or Dad wasn’t afraid of talking about eating with her, anyway. Maybe ruled out vampire, but Martian shapechanger was still on the table.

I didn’t literally believe my mom – or the entity that appeared to be my mom – was a telepathic shapechanger from Mars like in The Martian Chronicles. But it was obvious that something so far outside the norm that it was only imaginable by making references to fantasy and science fiction was happening.

I tried, very carefully, “How have you been feeling, Mom?”

“I’m great!” She laughed. “I haven’t felt this good in ages. Sugar’s under control, I can see pretty well, none of the usual aches and pains… I’m doing pretty good!”

Did she remember she had died of cancer? Did she even remember that she’d died?

It was 2 am before I got to go to bed.

***

6 am and I was up and out the door before there was any chance of my mother or father being awake, assuming my mom even slept anymore. But at the very least, she was in her bedroom with the door closed and no view of the driveway I’d parked my car in.

Do I sound like a terrible daughter when I tell you I’ve never visited my mom’s grave? I haven’t been back there since the funeral. I always knew my mother wasn’t really there – that if any part of her had still existed in any form, it wasn’t trapped in a coffin under six feet of dirt. It made it somewhat difficult to find the graveyard, though, because I couldn’t remember where it was, or its name, or which church it was associated with, and it wasn’t exactly like I could ask my mom. When I finally found the place– it wasn’t that hard in the end, my parents live in a small town and there aren’t many graveyards – it took me half an hour to find her grave.

It seemed undisturbed. But if Mom had been back from the dead since Monday, that would have been time to fill in a grave. I went looking for the caretaker.

They get to work early in the graveyard caretaking business, I guess; I found him pushing a lawnmower over on the other side of the graveyard.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“This is going to sound stupid,” I said. “But I got an email from a jerk I used to know in high school claiming he was going to dig up my mother’s grave, and I just wanted to make sure nobody’s touched it.”

“Nobody’s touched any of the graves, ma’am,” he assured me. “Aside from a couple of funerals we’ve had this week, no one’s done anything to disturb the ground here at all.”

“Thanks,” I said, “that’s reassuring. He was talking like he was actually going to do it, but I guess he was all talk.”

“Well, if anyone comes by and disturbs any of the graves, we’ll have them arrested,” he said.

I had my answer. My mother had not climbed out of her grave. Which seemed impossible anyway, now that I knew enough about the funeral industry to know exactly how hard it would be to smash a coffin open, let alone dig through six feet of dirt. I couldn’t rule out her turning immaterial and floating out of her grave, but my mom had seemed very material and biological when she’d hugged me. I’d always thought of ghosts as something that were almost never solid enough to interact with the world, if they even existed.

***

If I was going to get up this early, I was going to get a pancake breakfast at the diner. My parents still think sugarless cold cereal is a reasonable thing to eat for breakfast. They were always night owls; I made myself breakfast and school lunch every morning but the first day of school, every year after about third grade. I was also a night owl, once I didn’t have to get up for school anymore, but I used to make my girls a lunch every night and store it in the fridge for them. Now they’re too old and too cool for Mom lunches. They’re eating something, but it might be cafeteria food, lunch they pack for themselves, or for all I know sandwiches from 7-11 or Starbucks with their allowance.

The point is, I hardly ever get a nice breakfast, because I am hardly ever willing to wake up early enough to cook myself one, and my parents certainly weren’t going to. So I went to the diner.

Normally I don’t talk to anyone at a diner, beyond smiling at them and telling them my order in an upbeat, cheerful voice because waitresses get too much shit from too many people for me to add to it inadvertently. Also because I don’t want them to think I’m eating alone because I’m a sad, lonely bitch no one would love; I want them to know I’m doing this because I really, really enjoy not having to socialize. But today I had something I needed to know.

“I’m a writer,” I told the waitress, “and I’m doing research on ghost stories in the area. Have you heard anything, you know, Halloweeny or spooky? Ghosts appearing, dead people walking around, poltergeists, that kind of thing?”

“Can’t say I have, but I’ll ask around, see if any of the girls know any good stories,” the waitress told me.

And then she took my order back to the kitchen, and I surfed the net on my phone while I waited, and then I got my pancakes, and I ate them. I was chasing the last blueberry around on the plate when another waitress approached me. “Stacy told me you were collecting creepy stories for a book?”

“From the local area, yeah.”

“I don’t know if this is the kind of thing you’re looking for, but… my cousin says that a lady on her street, her husband died a few years ago? But she just saw the guy walking with the lady down the street, having a conversation like the guy never died.”

“Do you think you’d be able to give my email to your cousin and have her reach out to me? That sounds like exactly the kind of story I’m looking for.”

“Uh, sure.”

I gave the waitress my email address. This was probably going to come to nothing; I doubted the waitress would even remember to give it to her cousin. But it’d be really good if I could get the details from someone who knew more about it.

***

Jeff’s more of a morning person than I am. I got a response on Facebook, but I had to wait to get back to my parents’ house, where my laptop was, to read it. On mobile, Facebook will only let you read messages if you have the app, which tells Mark Zuckerberg exactly where you are and what you’re doing with your phone, all the time. I don’t have the app. Sometimes this means I can’t read messages on mobile, but I prefer that to having an evil data empire know everything about my movements.

My parents weren’t awake when I got home. Or they were still in their bedroom. They used to do that a lot. Mom’s desk was in there, and Dad had a laptop… which he usually used on Mom’s desk, since she died. I wondered where her machine was, and if she had made a thing about it once she came back.

“I’m not sure I remember what your third grade teacher’s name was… I can barely remember my own third grade teacher. Were they the same? I can’t remember. I think my own teacher’s name was… Wil-something? Wilber? Wilkins? You’d be better off… well, you’re at the house now, or are you back at your home? Kind of important to know, because I could give you some advice about who to ask, but it’d be a different thing if you were at Dad’s house.”

He meant, “You’d be better off asking Mom, but I don’t know if you know Mom is back from the dead or not.” I was pretty sure, anyway.

I responded. “I’m at Dad’s house. Wondering how I’d be able to tell the difference between someone who’s real and a Martian shapechanger. Could the name have been Wilder?”

Five minutes later I got my answer. “Mom isn’t a Martian shapechanger. It was the first thing I thought of, so I checked.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

That answer I didn’t get until half an hour later. “I… just didn’t feel right, talking about it in an impersonal medium like the internet. I know you have a cell phone and I probably even have your number somewhere, but I remember you’re not the biggest fan of actual phone calls, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I replied with my phone number and the message “Call me.”

And then I had to sit by my phone, doing nothing important, nothing that would engage my attention in any serious way, waiting for him to call. Which took twenty minutes, despite the fact that I could see that he was online.

Finally the phone rang. “You raaaaang?” I answered in my best parody of The Addams Family.

“I’m pretty sure I must have, or you wouldn’t have known to pick up,” Jeff said. “Of course, I might have buzzed. You could have your phone on vibrate. Or maybe I sang, depending on what you have for a ringtone.”

“’You saaaaang?’ doesn’t have the same je ne sais quoi to it.”

“Wow, how long has it been since I heard someone put je ne sais quoi in a sentence? I think we’re old. I think that’s an old person expression now.”

“What’s going on with Mom?” I asked, quietly, in case anyone might be in the hallway to hear me.

Jeff sighed. “I don’t know what is, but I can tell you what isn’t,” he said. “Stephanie confirmed that she eats, sleeps and goes to the bathroom normally, and I confirmed all of that for myself. The toilet in their bedroom is still broken enough that they don’t flush it unless they have to.”

I winced. That was a level of detail I could have done without. “So, not vampire or undead. How did you solve the Martian thing?”

“On Monday, Dad woke up and she was laying next to him in bed. If the goal was to kill him, it would have made more sense to do it then, before he woke up, than to put on this whole elaborate performance.”

“You’re taking me too literally. I’m not worried about aliens trying to take our family off guard so they can kill us. There’s any number of things they could be up to, and they don’t have to be aliens. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The Stepford Wives. My Little Pony.”

“…My Little Pony?”

“There’s creatures called Changelings that feed on love. They impersonate ponies and take the love that other ponies feel for the ones they’re impersonating, as food.”

“Kind of psychic vampires mashed up with Martian shapechangers.”

“Yeah, but without the telepathy, so they’re not as good at it as you’d think. It’s a children’s show; they have to telegraph to the kids that these aren’t the real ponies. In real life, anyone who did something like that would be more competent.”

“How much verisimilitude do we need, though? She’s got moles in the same places Mom had moles. She’s missing a toenail just like Mom. Things I didn’t consciously think about, things I might not have remembered if you asked me to describe Mom.”

“That just means that if it’s not Mom, it has the ability to rummage deeper into our memories than we’re consciously aware of. That’s why I asked you my third grade teacher’s name. I genuinely don’t remember. Mom would, I’m pretty sure. Dad wouldn’t and Stephanie and Aaron were both too young.”

“I’m not sure I remember, but when you said Wilder, that sounded like it could be right. Do you know anyone from elementary school? Some of them went to high school with us.”

“I have some Facebook friends from high school, and maybe one or two went to the same elementary we did, but I haven’t been able to locate any actual people that I remember from elementary school. They don’t have a Classmates.com thing that works for elementary—”

“It says it does.”

“It lies, there’s nowhere to enter your elementary in your profile. All it lets you put in is high school, and it’s from a drop-down, not even freeform.”

“Huh. Guess I never tried it. I’m still in touch with anyone I cared about from back then.”

“I literally don’t care about anyone from back then, but that makes it hard when you’re trying to figure out your third grade teacher’s name.”

“If she can probe our memories,” Jeff said, “then nothing you or I know, or ever knew, would be safe. You’d have to come up with something to ask her that Dad wouldn’t know, or me, or Aaron, or Steph, or yourself, but that you know Mom would know and that you know someone else who would know it too.”

“I could ask Mariana for something.” My mom’s close friend and high school classmate was one of my Facebook friends. We don’t generally communicate directly with each other, but I follow her posts.

“That’s a good idea.” I heard the sound of a whistling teapot in the background. “That’d be my hot water for my oatmeal. If you get anything from Mariana, can you tell me about it?”

“Yeah.” I’d wanted to tell him about the story I’d heard in the diner, but no one got between Jeff and his oatmeal. “I’ll talk to you later. Probably online. Voice is making me paranoid.”

“I know what you mean. Do you need me to come up this weekend? I could make a day trip tomorrow.”

“That might be a good idea. I want to talk to Aaron, do you know what schedule he’s on?”

“He works nights now, so you’ll want to get him around 2 pm or so.”

“All right. Enjoy your oatmeal.”

“I will!” he said, putting a ridiculous amount of emphasis into it as a joke.

***

Before I could finish writing a message to Mariana – before I could really start, honestly, because how could I explain why I needed what I needed without admitting Mom was back from the dead? – someone knocked on my door. It was Mom. She was wearing one of her usual kind of shapeless but colorful nightgowns, and her hair was not brushed, so it was kind of a wreck. I noticed for the first time that it was grey. Mom had always dyed her hair since she started going grey, and it had still been auburn when she’d died. I’d never seen it fully grey. “Your dad and I are going to the arboretum,” she said. “Do you want to come?”

“Since when have you been into trees, Mom?” My mother had always been fascinated by history, and to some extent natural history like dinosaurs, but I’d never seen her express an interest in nature per se.

“I never was, much,” she admitted, “but the world is so beautiful. I was always more interested in the way humans shape the world than the way it came out of the box, but things like arboretums, Japanese gardens, zoos and aquariums… they’re made of nature, but they’re made by humans, and they say something about the people who chose to make them the way they are. And you know that your dad has always enjoyed nature.” My dad was interested in science, in general, and considered the natural world part of that. He was not exactly the kind of guy who would go camping.

In the past, I would have said “no, thanks.” I was never all that interested in nature myself, certainly not trees – maybe beautiful rocks or interesting landscapes, but looking at trees wouldn’t have seemed interesting to me. I still didn’t care much about trees… but my mom was back from the dead. I’ve gone much stupider and more boring places than an arboretum with her in the past, and now… if this was really her, if she was really alive again, I was going to spend all the time with her that I reasonably could.

“Sure, I’ll go,” I said. “I’ll take my own car, though. Just give me the address.” I always took my own car if I possibly could, because I’d get carsick if I wasn’t the one driving. “Should I ask Stephanie if she wants to come?”

“Sure, you can ask. I doubt she will, though.”

Stephanie, however, surprised me. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. We’ll meet Mom and Dad there?”

“Yeah.” Dad had texted me the address, so I pulled it up in my GPS. “About half an hour from here.”

In the car, she asked me, “Have you found anything out? I know you were looking into the whole Mom thing.”

“Jeff thinks she’s really Mom. We have a plan to get Mariana to give us a question that we don’t know the answer to, but that Mom and Mariana both would, so we can confirm she really knows things and isn’t just reading our minds. And a waitress at the diner said her cousin has seen what looks like someone else coming back from the dead.”

“It’s all over the place, actually,” Stephanie said. “I’m finding reports from everywhere.”

I glanced at her. “Why wouldn’t this be making the news, then? People coming back from the dead!”

“I feel like maybe no one wants to go on the record.” Stephanie looked out the window. “Nothing on Twitter or Facebook. No pictures of dead people on Instagram. I’m seeing things on Reddit and Tumblr – places where people use a consistent pseudonym, not like 4chan, but where that pseudonym can’t be tied to their actual identity. I’ve posted about it in both places, but I can’t make myself tweet about it.”

“Any idea why not?”

“It—” She shrugged, hands exaggeratedly widespread and head canted forward slightly. “It just feels wrong,” she said. “Like… we’re getting away with something. There’s a natural law we’re breaking here. I can post as toomanymushrooms or u/catonahottinroofsundae and no one knows who I am, but if I post as Stephanie Robbins and I tell everyone that my mom Suky Robbins is back from the dead…”

“What if that brought it to the attention of, what, some kind of authorities?”

“Yeah, pretty much. And even if I was just posting under my own name… I don’t have to say Mom’s name. I don’t have to put a mention to her Facebook in a post. But everyone knows my mother’s name, or they could find out from my name if they wanted to.”

“And you think maybe there are a lot of people with these weird feelings?”

“I don’t think so, I know so. A lot of posts explicitly talk about the fact that they can’t bring themselves to say anything in public, or talk about it with their real names on it.”

“Are they all parents?”

“No. It’s all kinds of people. Best friends, siblings, spouses, children… the only pattern I see is that nobody died a long time ago. It’s all, ‘my brother who died last year’ or ‘my aunt who died two years ago’ or something. Longest I’ve seen anyone talk about was a son who died five years ago.”

A thought occurs to me. “I can add something to your pattern, though.”

“Yeah?”

“You’d expect that, even if everyone with a resurrected relative feels this sense of dread about telling anyone about it with their name attached, because they feel it will, I don’t know, maybe cause the dead person to disappear back into their grave… you’d think somebody would do it anyway because they don’t care. Someone whose alcoholic abusive father came back and they wish he’d go away again, someone’s asshole brother, someone’s former best friend who betrayed them. But so far, no one has. How many people have you seen talking about this?”

“It’s hard to say because no one’s using their real names. Someone might post from their main blog and their side blog, or maybe they have a different name on tumblr vs reddit but they posted to both. But I’ve tracked thirteen separate names, and of those, I can tell for a fact there are at least nine unique ones because they talk about different people.”

“Thirteen isn’t ‘all over the place’.”

“I didn’t mean all over the Internet, I meant people coming from all over. I’ve tracked the UK, California, North Dakota, Ontario, France, India and New Zealand. Nobody’s tagging their posts and no one is willing to contribute to a master list, so it’s hard to find anyone outside of the people I follow or the subreddits I’m in, and I don’t know where everyone comes from. But it’s geographically widespread. I suspect it may also be happening in other places where people don’t generally speak English or maybe don’t have Internet access.”

“And what’s their sentiment? Like, are people frightened? Upset? Excited? Weirded out?”

She took a moment to think about it. “They’re happy. People are happy it happened. Weirded out, yes. But happy.”

“No whacked-out conspiracy theories about how it’s the contrails raining down adenochrome or something?”

“Not from the people it’s happened to. There was one flame war I saw where a religious person was saying that the person whose sister was back from the dead had to repudiate her. She’s not really your sister, she’s a demon from Hell sent to trick you, et cetera. And the person whose sister was back turned out to be just as religious, and they threw a holy fit. Literally. A holy fit.” She giggled. “A whole lot of stuff about how the righteous were coming back and Jesus had granted some people eternal life and this was that, and how dare you call these beings demons when they’re obviously blessed by Jesus himself and you’re the kind of person who would have called for Jesus’s crucifixion if you’d been alive then, and all that kind of thing.”

“Did anyone else who’d had returned people say anything?”

“This was Tumblr. None of the people who have had returns are communicating with each other in any way I can see. I reached out to a few on Tumblr private messaging but no one has answered. The only places I’m seeing conversations about it between people with returns have been on Reddit, because it has a forum structure. Tumblr is more like a whole hanging web of disconnected strings.”

“Still, you’d think that someone would be publishing a news article about it. Even if no one is willing to go on the record with their real name…”

“Maybe it’s not enough people. Nine unique instances, maybe up to thirteen, maybe more in places I haven’t surveyed. It’s not like I have access to literally all of Tumblr, after all. But that’s all I can confirm, and what if there isn’t any more?”

“If anyone came back from the dead I would expect the news to take notice.” I turned onto the final road; the arboretum was at the end of this stretch. “I went to the graveyard today. Mom’s grave hasn’t been disturbed. I checked with the groundskeeper. So either Mom’s body floated ethereally through the grave dirt, and her coffin, or her original body is still in there and whatever she is now, it’s not the same as what she was then.”

“It’s too bad we can’t have her exhumed,” Stephanie said.

“It probably wouldn’t tell us much anyway.”

“She’s younger-looking than she was before. Not by much, and the grey hair hides it, but she’s healthier-looking and less wrinkly. And I don’t see any evidence that she still has diabetes, or that she’s taking any pills at all. I haven’t seen her take any insulin shots, or anything.”

“Huh.” She wasn’t restored to her youth, or her hair wouldn’t be grey and there would be no wrinkles at all. She wasn’t restored to what she was at the moment of death, obviously. She wasn’t restored to what she’d have been at the moment of death without the cancer that killed her, if she didn’t have diabetes anymore. I felt like there had to be a pattern here I wasn’t seeing. I really wanted to talk to some of these other people having this experience.

I pulled in to the arboretum’s parking lot. Mom and Dad weren’t there yet; Dad doesn’t drive like an old man, but he doesn’t drive as fast as he used to, either. “Do they do this kind of thing a lot? Arboretums, parks, et cetera?”

“They don’t usually invite me, and I wouldn’t usually come if they did, so I don’t know. They do leave the house a lot.”

Dad’s car pulled in, and he and Mom got out. For the first time I could remember, Mom was actually moving a bit faster than him. Both Mom and Dad were the kind of people who walked quickly everywhere they went, but for a long time, Mom was slowed down by her various illnesses. Dad was still healthy for his age, but he’d slowed down a good bit since Mom’s death – grief was hard on his health, it seemed – and now Mom seemed healthier than he was.

“Did you know there are people who come here from all over just to see our leaves in the autumn?” Mom said.

I did know that; it was typically a factor in making it hard for me to come visit during the autumn. “I think it’s the mountainsides. There’s leaves turning colors all over the country, but not on mountainsides.”

“In California they don’t even consider these mountains,” Mom said. “They call them hills when they come visit.”

“No respect for the elderly,” Dad said.

“Yeah, these young mountains think they’re all that, but wait 100,000 years and see how tall they are then,” Stephanie said.

We strolled around, looking at the trees, reading what it said on the plaques in front of them. American Elm. Yellow Birch. Eastern White Pine. I’d seen trees just like these my whole life, and a good number of them, I’d never known the names.

“You never think about how beautiful the world is,” Mom said. “We’re all rushing through it, trying to accomplish the next thing. Or entertain ourselves. Read a book, watch TV. So few of us really want to interact with nature.”

“Careful, mom, your hippie roots are showing,” I said, teasing.

“I think if my generation had remembered what we were back when we were the hippies, the world would be better off.”

“We didn’t forget, Suky. The hippies were always big news, but you know as well as I do how many people our age just wanted to go punch a clock, buy a house, vote for Ronald Fucking Reagan… We thought we were the generation that would change the world, but it wasn’t our generation, it was us. People like us, who wanted to see a better world and weren’t content to just live like the sheep our parents were… but there’s people like that in every generation. And they’re always outnumbered by the assholes.”

“Actually, they’ve done a study,” Stephanie said. “The reason generations get more conservative as they get older is that at every point, the poor are more likely to die than the rich, and the rich are more conservative than the poor. So by the time you get to middle age, a lot of the people looking for social justice and diversity are dead. And there’s a lot more dead by the time they’re elderly.”

“I don’t buy it,” my dad said. “There’s entirely too many stupid poor people in this country who are brainwashed into supporting causes that help out the rich people and screw themselves over. They’re not living longer than anyone else in this country. The math doesn’t work.”

“Let’s not talk about politics,” Mom said. “I think we all know there’s something more important we ought to be discussing.”

“Mom?” Stephanie said, and looked at her, which is not a thing Stephanie does very often.

“Suky?” Dad said.

I didn’t say anything. I watched as Mom looked up at a tree and said, “It’s time we dealt with the elephant in the room, don’t you think?”

“Are you going to tell us about—” I couldn’t say anything more. I couldn’t bring myself to make the words.

“About the fact that I was dead, and now I’m not?” She looked at all of us. “I think we should talk about it, yes.”

It felt like there were eyes, watching us. I wanted to yell to my mother, to tell her not to talk about it, that someone might hear… but who? And why would it matter?

“Is that something you’re okay with, Suky?” Dad asked.

“I’m fine, but I’m getting the impression the rest of you aren’t,” she said. “Why haven’t any of you brought it up, except Stephanie, the once?”

“Well, you told me it was rude,” Stephanie said.

Mom sighed. “I guess I did. I’m sorry. This isn’t really easy for me either.”

She sat down on a bench, and Dad sat with her. Stephanie and I sat on a short stone wall around a tree. “I suppose I should start by saying, I don’t really know much more than you do. I don’t have any memories of being dead. I woke up in bed, next to your dad, on Monday morning, and for a while I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there… I assumed I went to bed the previous night, but I couldn’t remember what had happened the night before. I couldn’t pin down anything I remembered as to exactly when it happened, not in the recent past. And when your father woke up, the shock on his face and the fact that he kept asking me if I was really here made me think, wait, the last thing I remember was that I was in a hospital dying of cancer, so why am I here now?”

“So you don’t remember any kind of afterlife?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I believe I had some sort of existence, but I don’t remember anything about it. When I wake up, I have flashes, feelings that I dreamed something about it, but I can’t hold it in my head long enough to write it down or even talk about it. It just… disappears, leaving behind only the memory that something was there a few minutes ago.”

“You know how unlikely the idea that an afterlife exists is, scientifically, though. Right?” Dad said. “Consciousness is an emergent property of a trillion neurons working together. Imagining that there could be some sort of construct that exists outside the brain and body is like imagining that a video game character could be waltzing around in front of us.”

“And yet I’m here,” Mom said.

“Time travel or a Star Trek transporter with some modifications would make more sense than something supernatural, like an afterlife,” Dad said stubbornly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stephanie said. “If Mom doesn’t remember…”

“Have you had a medical exam?” I asked.

Mom laughed. “I don’t have health insurance anymore. I’m dead, remember? I can’t even begin to figure out how we’re going to address getting me a legal identity again, and to be honest… I can’t know I’ll be around long enough for it to matter.”

“None of us know that,” I said, “about ourselves or anyone else.”

“True, and it’s going to be hard to travel if I don’t have a legal identity. So I suppose I’ll have to address it eventually, if I last that long.”

“Thank God your state ID hasn’t actually expired yet, or there’d be no way we could fly to Boston. The passport’s expired,” Dad said. Mom had been legally blind when she died, so she’d had a state ID rather than a driver’s license.

“Is there any reason you might not? Aside from the things that could kill anyone?” I asked.

Dad said, “Your mother and I discussed… when she first appeared, I found it nearly impossible to talk about the fact that she’d been dead. When she broached the topic, I could talk about it to her, but I couldn’t tell you kids.” He shrugged. “My working theory is that there’s some kind of alien experiment going on or that time travel is somehow involved, but the fact that none of you kids were able to tell each other about it until you knew the other one knew suggests to me that someone with the ability to directly affect human emotions or thought is, for some reason, making it hard to talk about this. Maybe that means it’s a short-lived experiment.”

“Maybe I escaped from hell and no one wants to talk about it for fear the devil will take me back,” Mom said, but she was laughing. Mom had never believed in hell. Dad was an atheist; Mom definitely had strong spiritual beliefs, but they were kind of a package of woo that included reincarnation and ghosts, even though she’d been raised Catholic.

“There are others like you,” Stephanie said. “None of them have talked about it themselves, but family members or friends have talked about it online, under pseudonyms. I haven’t found any evidence that anyone has mentioned anything under their real names.”

“A lot?” Mom was surprised.

“So far I count between nine and thirteen unique individuals, plus Eleanor heard a rumor that someone who might live in town might have come back. We don’t know any details, though.”

“We need to find them,” Mom said. “I need to find them. I have a second chance at life, and I’m not ashamed of it. I won’t be silenced about the fact that I exist.”

“It might not be the best idea, Suky,” Dad said. “There are a lot more crazies out there than there were when you died—”

“—there were plenty of crazies then, Dee—”

“—right, and even then it wouldn’t have been a good idea. There might be some religious nut job who thinks that if you were dead you should stay that way. Or someone else thinks that you know how you came back, and wants to force you to tell them.”

“Those are valid points,” Mom said, nodding. “And to all of those people who might want to harm me because they think I shouldn’t be alive or they think I know how I came back, I say a hearty ‘fuck you.’ I won’t be silent because there are crazy people in the world. I’m not afraid of death, not anymore.”

“You’re going to risk Eleanor’s kids?” Dad asked sharply.

“I agree with Mom,” I said, standing up. “Nobody should have to keep quiet about the fact that they exist. But I have to tell Will.”

Stephanie made a face. My family doesn’t like my husband. They have justifications, but in the past few years, since Mom died, Will’s gone to therapy and has done a lot of work on himself. Mom was the only one in the family ever willing to forgive anything, though, so I’ve never tried to get them to change their minds.

Mom said, “Well, is he still a total asshole?”

“He’s… been trying not to be. He’s in therapy, and we’re doing couples counseling, and he’s working through a lot of baggage from his upbringing.”

“Why not tell him to bring the kids up and join you here, then. Coming back to life, might as well start a clean slate and see where things go from there. And you’re right, he needs to be involved in the discussion. Your girls, too. They all are old enough to understand what’s going on here, and what could happen.”

“You know I will never stand in the way of anything you want,” Dad said, which is the kind of thing Dad says rather than “I love you”. Things like, “If they ever fail to respect you, I will smite them” – talking about us and our treatment of Mom – or “You have always been my worthy opponent.” Yes. Sometimes my father talks like a comic book character.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Stephanie said, “but I know you taught me to be who I am to the world and fuck anyone who gives me shit about it, so… same principle. I don’t think you could be you and lie about who you are.”

“And we need to involve Jeff and Aaron,” Mom said. “I’ll call them and get them to come here.”

“We turned off your cell phone ages ago,” Dad objected.

“Dee, we still have a land line. I know we do because I hear it ring, and sometimes you even answer it.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s right, we do.” Dad shook his head. “This world where everyone carries around their phone in their pocket all the time… it’s strange how you get so used to a technological or societal change that you forget that you did it a different way for 67 years.”

Nothing ever stopped my mother when she wanted something strongly enough, if she believed it was right. I hadn’t even thought of the considerations my father brought up before he talked about them, but I’ve never believed it’s okay to hide in conformity and live in fear. I didn’t think Will had ever believed in doing that, either, and my daughters had grown up going to political protests.

“We need to find out more about these other people,” I said to Stephanie on the way home. “See if we can contact them directly, find out if any of the actual returned people are planning on going public like Mom. We could coordinate if they are. Strength in numbers.”

“The religious right are going to crap their pants,” Stephanie said, laughing. “A Deist who believes in reincarnation, is married to an atheist, and has a gay son, came back to life. Jesus Christ hasn’t got a monopoly anymore.”

“That is probably going to be the most fun part of this going public thing,” I said.

***

So now I don’t know what will happen. My husband’s driving up from home with our girls, my oldest younger brother’s on a train, and Mom’s been looking up contact information for journalist friends she had once, checking which ones are still alive, using Facebook – we never deactivated her account – and my dad’s LinkedIn. Stephanie’s found two other people who have family members who came back from the dead, and one of them’s been willing to talk to her in private messaging on Tumblr.

I still have a hard time telling anyone who doesn’t already know, but it turns out, I can write about it without feeling the pressure, the fear. Don’t know if I can post it, yet. I guess we’ll see. I’m hoping that if I can get more information from more people who’ve been through something similar, maybe we’ll find a pattern, a point of commonality… maybe even an explanation for why we all feel this pressure not to talk about it.

Tomorrow we’re all going to talk about whether we’re going to do this or not, but I know my family. What my mom wants, she gets, if it’s possible and if it’s ethical. My husband and my kids are going to be in favor of her going public, and my brothers won’t stand in her way any more than my dad would. So we’re going to do this. The thing we’re really going to talk about is how to keep ourselves safe when we do.

Everything in the world is going to change. I just don’t know exactly how yet.

***

Obligatory notes because I’m so fucking late with this piece:

I have fucked up royally. I went into this without an outline and about 6,000 words in I realized I had attempted to consume a ball of energy larger than my head. This is going to end up being novel length, most likely. I struggled really hard to find a place I could reasonably end it as a short story, and yeah, it is absolutely not an ending. No followup on the Martian shapechanger thing, new idea is brought in and then treated like it’s the climax, protagonist is almost entirely reactive and passive. As a short story, it’s shit.

Unfortunately I found this out after I was already late. Not going to bore everyone with why this was a week late except that it’s allergy season and I’ve been exhausted lately. So there was no time to try to write something else. I hope you found it entertaining, if somewhat frustrating; it’s shit as a short story because it’s plainly a piece of a novel. Which I’m not going to write real soon because I have like 3 novels ahead of this one in the queue, but if I live long enough it will get done.

It’s kinda cute that story #30 falls on the 30th now because I’m late and story #31 is the last of my Spooky 5 Halloween-appropriate stories. But not cute enough to justify how late this is.

BTW, while this is not as autobiographical as “Radio” from Inktober, it is heavily drawn from real life. I altered some things because this is fiction, but the mother and the father in this story are pretty close to real life. Except that my mother hasn’t come back.

#52 project #writeober 2020 #alara's october 2020 prompt fics #spooky5 #late!

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

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What is this witchcraft? Me? Not posting after midnight? I’m shocked to my very core. Anyways, this is one of my longer chapters. If you have any feedback, do not hesitate. As always, previous chapter (and next when applicable) is at the bottom.

Chapter 5

“Dude, hear me out here.” You are vibrating like a kid on pixie sticks. You slide your hands apart as if to display written words. “Lightsaber.”

“What’s a—”

“Donnie.” You put your hand up before he can continue. “Imma stop you right there. I am going to take your hand and kindly ask you to tell me that you know of, or at least have heard of, Star Wars.”

“I do not.”

“That is a fucking crime.”

You have been sitting with him for approximately an hour, watching him dismantle a “Kraang bot” as you register for school and start ordering supplies. You are quickly starting to realize his knowledge of anything outside the bounds of science is limited to whatever he read by virtue of his father, which consisted of one book on Greek mythology, one on the Italian renaissance, one on ancient Japanese history, and one on Japanese folklore, or anything he learned via the interests of his brothers. Because of this, he seems to know exactly jack-shit about things you consider common knowledge, such as the concept of foreshadowing or Poptarts or Hitler outside of a general association with the name and emotion of some sort, leading to interactions like the one you’re having right now.

“It’s not a crime,” he defended. “It's just I was never really interested in that kinda stuff.”

“But it’s Star Wars!” You throw your hands up. “How do you not know of Star Wars, at least?”

“Look, you’re saying it’s really good, right?”

“Well, yeah.” Your voice lowered.

“Why would somebody throw out a good movie?”

You sigh. “Yeah, that’s fair. But!” You point at him. “But I need to watch it with you, if only out of principle. Besides,” you settle down, “it’s a very… traditionally plotted story. I still have to give you that lesson.”

“Yeah, but after I finish this.” He pushes his laptop to the side, picking up the soldering iron and moving back over to the pile of metal you know will become Metalhead.

You nod in agreement, leaning forward in your chair to watch him fuse wires. “You know what?” You smile. “I may give you shit, but it is really cool watching your whole process.”

“Hm?” He looks up at you from his lean forward.

“Well,” you shrug, folding your legs on the chair, “I just mean that it’s cool seeing how you go about building all this junk that is just… what’s the word?”

“Untraditional?”

“Revolutionary.”

He has a funny look on his face. “You think so?”

“Oh, totally.” You nod eagerly. “I told you that I thought you were one of fiction’s greatest minds, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t.” His face is turning red.

“Really? I swear I did the day I met you…” Your eyebrows furrow as you try to remember.

“You said something about inspiration.” He smiled softly, voice airy.

“Oh, then I—well, it kinda is the same thing.” You rub the back of your neck, feeling your own face heat up. “Must’ve—uh—misspoke. I do that,” you trail off, “kinda a lot.”

“I think it’s cute.”

You feel your heart skip a beat. ‘Oh come the fuck on. Really?’ “See,” you hear your voice rise a register, “that is so not fair.”

“Huh?” The color drains from his face as he tries to remember what sounds just came out of his mouth. “What did I say?”

“You’re not allowed to just say shit like that.” You cover your face with your hands, feeling your heart swell. “You’re not my boyfriend or anything.”

“Wait, what did I say?”

“Nope. Shut up.” You try to calm yourself down. “You didn’t mean it, whatever it was. It’s fine.”

He blinks, very confused. “You sure?”

“Totally.” Your voice is tight. “One hundred and ten percent sure.”

“You can’t be one hundred ten percent sure.” He looks back down at his project, writing your behavior off. “It’s mathematically impossible

“You wanna bet?” You start looking around the room, prior embarrassment now replaced with a desire to win this artificial conflict. “Got graph paper?”

He scoffs. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding right now?” You lean across the table, tilting his head up to face you properly, determination burning in your eyes. Your voice lowers. “I am going to show you one hundred and ten present sure right here and now as a matter of principle.”

He swallowed, face going red again. “One moment, please.” He fumbles around for a piece of paper and hands it to you, along with a marker.

“Thank you.” You smile sweetly, acting as if nothing happened as you start to sketch. “Give me a bit of time and I will show you one hundred and ten percent sure.”

He rolls his eyes, a smile coming back to his face as he calms down. “Sure you will.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Go back to your transformer while I blow your freakin mind, kay?”

“What’s—”

“Don’t even.”

“Gotcha.”

You chew on your tongue absentmindedly, remembering how much you love spacing out pixels when you hear a notification on your phone. You pull it out, read it, sigh, slide out of your chair. “I’ll be right back,” you promise, heading for the door. “I gotta make sure plot shit happens.”

“You know where to find me.”

“Always do.” You shoot him finger guns as you drag the door closed. You walk over to the brothers, currently engaged in their digital hockey match. You watch, waiting for Raphael’s inevitable victory— ‘Wow, my life is getting pretty damn predictable.’—before clearing your throat to catch their attention.

“So,” you smile, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”

They seem to not understand the question. “Yeah, Leo,” Raphael prompts, shooting a look at him, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”

He paused. “Is there some sort of sport thing happening?”

Your heart drops. “Leonardo,” you ask again, voice lowering, “you have a plan for the thing happening tonight, right?”

“What thing?”

You grab his shoulders. “The spill,” you clarify, voice quiet and sharp. “The mutagen spill. The spill I told you about three days ago?”

His eyes widen. “You said that was happening Friday!”

“Today is Friday!” You let go, throwing your hands in the air out of pure frustration. “That’s why I told you today is Friday! What, did you think I just liked talking about days of the week? That it’s my hobby to keep track of how many days I haven’t died?” ‘I mean, it is, but that’s not the point.’

“Well, it can’t be that important if you forgot about it.” Raphael leaned against the machine. “We’ll just go in and bust some heads. No problem.”

You groan. “Do you guys just have something against planning? I swear everything with you guys has to happen at the very last minute.”

“We don’t need the time to plan. I dunno if you noticed, Y/N, but our ‘plans’ aren’t exactly plan worthy.” He shrugged. “You just have to beat the Kraang out of them and that’s the end of it. It’d be like planning to raid a trailer home.”

You sigh. ‘They’re teenage boys. This is only episode six. Deep breaths.’ “Just… please try to heed my warnings in the future, alright? The last thing we need is for something to sneak up on us.”

“Alright, alright.” Leo focuses his eyes on you. “When is the mutagen getting spilled?”

“Tomorrow. The show wasn’t very specific on times, but some time tomorrow.”

“Then let’s air on the side of caution and assume they mean midnight. What’s the time?”

You pull out your phone. “Seven forty-five.”

“That should be enough time to get there, scope out the place, and be home before dinner.”

You feel the ground shake under you as a metallic clang pierces the air.

That is your cue to leave for fear of getting hit with a laser. “You can’t beat Metalhead. Also, Mikey calls him Metalhead.” You start heading out. “I’d stay and watch you guys waste time trying, but I haven’t eaten today, so I’m gonna grab food and meet you there.” You run out before they can ask any more questions.

If nothing else, all the running has been helping you get in shape. You are not typically the type to take runs, but you also are not typically the type to be pressed to see people. Loneliness is one hell of a motivator, as it turns out, and you were starving in more ways than one. You stop by the first place you see, grabbing some food item with a name you already forget—some sort of burrito, you think—and climb a fire escape belonging to a building overlooking the warehouse in question. You sit on the edge of the building, dangling your legs over the side as you wait for them to get here.

‘Do I like him?’ You pause at your question, mid-bite. ‘I mean, I had a crush on him when I watched the show, but this attachment isn’t romantic affection, is it? I’ve had crushes before, and I’m acting too suave for this to be that.’ You swallow, taking a drink out from your nameless cup. ‘Considering my emotional state? It’s highly likely I’m just latching onto him for lack of anyone or anything truly familiar in my life right now.’ You sigh. ‘But, then again, if that were the case, this feeling what be more familial, wouldn’t it?’ You conclude, whether you are attracted to him romantically or not, it is entirely unfair to both of you to pursue a romantic relationship with him unless he makes the first move. You have more faith in his critical thinking skills than in your own, anyhow. Besides, he acted irrationally enough around April as is; introducing a proper romantic relationship into the mix sounds a bit too risky, especially at such a vulnerable time in his development.

You hear the distant sounds of mechanical joints approaching. ‘Already liking this better than ninja silence.’ You spin around, hopping off the ledge and onto the roof proper as you go to properly admire the metal wonder.

It looks infinitely cooler than the show would have you believe, if possible. Each piece of its hull has a past and you can see it in every scratch, every dent. It wasn’t anywhere near perfect; you can easily see where Donatello had hammered out the shell of the artificial terrapin, where he had had to settle for using concrete, even the faintest ghosts of the pennies making up its chest piece. It was a glorious collage.

You run over, going down on your knees to look it over. “This thing is so fucking cool,” you gush, shuffling around it. “Like, totally fucking awesome!”

You can hear the pride in his voice, the excitement. “I know, right?”

You hop back to your feet, keeping yourself from jumping up and down for the sake of pride. “That is the coolest shit ever!” You grin, sitting back down and taking a drink from your soda. “You never cease to amaze, Hamato.”

“You think?” He sounds almost like a puppy, excited as he is.

“Dude, totally.” You sigh, feeling yourself mellow out a little. “But, more importantly,” you continue, clapping your hands together once, “we should be properly watching the warehouse in case they need backup.”

“Oh, right!” The robot stomped over to you, standing slightly behind you as you dangle your feet over the edge.

You take another drink of soda, feeling the excitement in the air dying down as you look out over the buildings. ‘It’s oddly peaceful up here. Must not have started the attack yet.’ You swing your legs back and forth as silence settled between you two.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I meant to ask you before,” he said stiffly, “but how did you know this was happening today? You never explained it.”

You silently thank him for cutting the tension, turning around to face him properly. “Well,” you start, lacing your fingers together around your cup, “remember when I said that the show Leo watches shows up a lot in episodes?”

“Yeah.” You are not exactly sure why he sounds so interested in a detail like this.

“And you know how you watch on cable?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, as it turns out,” you dig into your jacket pocket, “they release television guides, telling people when certain shows are playing, what times they’re playing, shit like that. So,” you conclude, admittedly smug that you had reasoned this part out, “as long as I know what episode is playing during that episode, I can accurately predict any actions that happen during the periods in which you guys have cable access.”

“So, you map out what episodes are scheduled to play on what days and create a timeline around that?”

“Exactly. Not a bad plan.” You pull up a document, showing him the timeline you’ve created with this information. “As long as you guys are on the grid, and as long as Leo sticks to watching that specific channel, I’ll be able to predict the movements of every major player in the series, which means I’ll be able to determine who we can and can’t fuck with based off how they act later down the line, and I’ll be able to give you proper foresight when the situation—”

Your plan is interrupted by a section of the ledge directly next to you to gain a new hole. You leap to your feet, quickly backing up and almost tripping on Metalhead as you regain your senses and hear Mikey’s panicked yelling.

“That doesn’t look good.” You watch the machine starts backing up. “I’m gonna go in and help.”

Something strikes you. “Donnie, real quick, be careful not to run into anything. The technology you’re using is susceptible to Kraang influence.”

“Relax. I got this.” Metalhead gives you a thumbs up before running and leaping off the building, crashing through the glass roof feet first.

You sigh, getting to your feet. ‘Theme of today’s episode is not to rely on technology. Granted,’ you muse, starting to climb down the fire escape, ‘this probably could’ve been solved by adopting a more intuitive controller and having a bit more experience, but I digress.’ You hop the last few feet down. ‘In any case, I’ve done all I can. If that isn’t enough, so be it.’

You hear the explosion as you start walking back to your apartment. ‘He should be coming here in about three or so minutes.’

If you did not know how this would end, you would be much more concerned. As it stands? You know the score before the game is even played.

You wave hello to the doorman as you walk to the elevator. You tap your foot absentmindedly to the elevator music, walk to your apartment, unlock the door, and step inside, picking a large box off the ground in front of it before locking the door.

You walk over and set the box down on your bed, walking back to the kitchen. You pull a Tupperware box from on top of it, pulling a red velvet cupcake from the container and setting it on the counter.

You had died the first time you had made cupcakes. When you had tried making them again from your mother’s recipe, you had found yourself surprisingly unintimidated as you slid them into the oven. Of course, you had sat directly in front of the oven and stared at it during the entirety of the baking process, but you were hardly going to let the worst experience of your life separate you and the most nostalgic, joy-inducing feeling there was. Who else was going to make cupcakes?

You dry your hands, not realizing you had washed them as you pick the confection off the counter. You peel off a portion of the wrapper, biting into the savory and sweet bundle of joy in your mouth. You moan softly in satisfaction, licking the icing off your lips as you walk back over to your bed, sitting down and reaching for the knife under your pillow. You slice the tape, sliding your baby out of its packaging with a soft smile. You reach back in, taking another bite as you pull out a smaller bag. You set the box on the ground, tossing the now-empty wrapper into it and wiping the excess frosting on your jeans, pulling the instrument from its packaging.

Your father had taught you how to play a couple of years back. You never thought you would get weepy over a musical instrument, and yet, here you are, cradling a hunk of wood costing a little more than one day’s allowance. You purse your lips, running your fingers along the neck as you check for any defects in its construction. You crack open the bag and, after about half an hour of fiddling and research, manage to get the strings onto the violin bass without snapping it. It wasn’t an exact replica, but it was close enough that you feel comfortable holding it, feel joy hearing it come in tune.

You play a scale. It sounds like heaven to you.

You put the rest of the trash in the box, laying down next to the first item you have bought. A stand for it would be arriving tomorrow. That makes you smile.

This is the start of something healthy for you. Ironically, it has started with you eating a cupcake, but, still, you have begun to come to terms with your situation. Granted, you have a long way to go; you still have not deleted your social media, wanting to look out for photographs and clips from the funeral, but this is a step in the right direction. You have to believe that.

One small accomplishment: you have kept your apartment sparklingly clean. It is not as if you have much to do, but none the less.

You find your fingers playing an almost lullaby. You stop yourself, not wanting to fall asleep before getting yourself situated. You set your instrument to the side, getting up to close and shelve your cupcake box for future use. You wash your hands again.

You slide your jacket off and throw it onto a seat, knowing you will likely need it tomorrow. You make it a habit to at least get outside once per day, now. You understand that, even if it is not vital, you need to establish a routine. You must keep moving, if only for your sake of mind.

You check to see the curtains are closed, strip, put your clothes in a hamper. You take a shower, comb out your hair, brush your teeth. You do these things consciously, now. You change into a shirt for sleeping, crawling into bed and turning off the light. Tomorrow, you will have to go down to the laundromat to wash your few changes of clothes. You will eat three meals. You will drink eight glasses of water.

You set your phone on the nightstand, plugging it in. You reach over, fingers curling around the handle of the kitchen knife as you slide it under your pillow.

You close your eyes, feeling your heart pang again tonight.

“Goodnight,” you call to no one. “Love you.”

Silence.

It is better than it was. You do not cry tonight, wrapping your arms around your pillow.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” you mumble, feeling yourself drift into unconsciousness. “Love you too.”

Table of Contents

Chapter 4 Chapter 6 part 1

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faustonastring · 4 years

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Hello, I really like your writing. I read them everyday and can't wait for the next one. :) If this hasn't been done yet could you do a headcanon about a clumsy MC and how the main six would react. They trip, knock over stuff, accidentally hit things and hurt themselfs XD stuff like that. Thank you in advance.

Thanks for requesting I hope you like it. (This post was written for and by the clumsy committee)

The main six with a clumsy Mc

Asra

Asra isn’t clumsy, but he’s not the most observant. There are times when he’ll be day dreaming and walking and walk smack- right into a wall. And he has dropped mugs and tea glasses after hearing some really exiting news, so he understands To an extent

He thinks it’s adorable. Even if you break something super expensive or rare, sure he’ll be a little pissed about it I mean who wouldn’t, but he will cool down because he knows it was just an accident. Plus everything you do is adorable so there’s no was he can stay mad at you for long.

He does get super worried about you hurting youself though. He doesn’t want to use his magick to heal you all the time because that is super dangerous and can mess up your body, so unless it’s something really bad, he’ll give your bruise a kiss instead. And lots of extra cuddles just for extra measures.

Nadia

She. Is. Not. Clumsy. Nope. Not at all. Not one bit. Yes slip ups and such do happen, but she’s not the clumsy sort. It’s partially due to her genetics, and also how she was raised. (She was is a princess ya’know) but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t find clumsy people cute.

She doesn’t mind that your clumsy. Not one bit. No one can help their clumsiness. And she doesn’t mind if you break any thing expensive. Because they’re just objects that can be replaced, but you on the other hand are irreplaceable. (She does encourage you to spend some extra time in Lucios wing though)

As cute and endearing she finds your clumsiness, she gets very worried about you hurting yourself, and she is incredibly anxious about taking you horse back riding with her because heavens forbid you fall off the horse and hurt yourself bad.

Julian

I headcanon as the clumsiest out of the main six, lucio and Portia are tied for second place, so take that as you will. Anyhow you two are both walking disasters. And if your clumsiness some how surpasses julian’s.....then you might just be the clumsiest person alive.

Julian is constantly breaking things, and knocking things over, so he has absolutely no room to make fun or get mad at you for doing the same thing. And even if he didn’t constantly knock stuff over, him getting mad at you for something like that is not who he is. He’s too nice.

As for you constantly banging your self up....well your in luck because your boyfriend/husband is a doctor. He’ll treat any bruise no matter how small, or how big, of without lecturing you of course, then banging his head on the door frame while he leave the room to get more ice.

Portia

Like I stated before she’s tied in second place in the ‘clumsiest our of the main six’ ranking, so she understands you loud and clear. There have been times where she wasn’t paying attention and dropped something or ran into some one (looks directly into camera) so you’re fine, really

Like really don’t worry about a thing, she understands. She can always just make another one, don’t worry about accidently breaking something, besides pepi breaks stuff all the time, it’s one hundred percent aye-okay. She will never, ever get mad at you.

But the fact that you often hurt yourself is concerning. She started to keep a first aid kit on hand at all times, just in case something bad were to happen, that way she can keep her panicking to a minimum and patch you up ASAP.

Muriel

You’re weird. Muriel also isn’t clumsy. The man has a lot of anxiety and ptsd, not to say you can’t be clumsy with these mental disorders, what I’m trying to say is Muriel thinks and calculates his actions far too much for him to be clumsy. It’s only after you’ve been together for years, and he’s finally comfortable with people does his clumsiness show.

He doesn’t have much to break at first, so there’s no need to worry, just please for the love of god don’t touch anything in public. If you want to buy something he’ll hold it for you. And if you bump into something and break it, Muriel will tell you to pay for it if you can, but if you can’t.....all then....you better start running.

You worry him so much. He hates seeing you bruised and hurt, and he hates it even more knowing you can’t help it. If you laugh it off most days, he feels a little more relived, but that still doesnt change the fact that he doesn’t like seeing you covered in bruises.

Lucio

He’s clumsy....in his own......lucio....way..... He breaks stuff accidentally, and has slipped and tripped more times than he’s willing to admit, but you’re going to have to pry that information out of him, unless he tells you to make you feel better about you being clumsy if your insecure about it.

If you break something don’t worry about it, it’s replaced in no time. And if you break something at the market, he’ll reluctantly buy it, putting up a minimum fight. But if you break something that’s important to him.....just give him a minute or two to calm down.

Scars are something lucio is proud of, it’s status of a warrior in his book, so if you ever get a scar or a bruise from something, as long as your okay, Lucios more than happy, and if any one asks about it, he’ll make up some dramatic story about it, to make you ‘feel less embarrassed’

Ahhhh I’m really tired, and I’m having a bad mental health night so I hope this is okay, and if you need me to fix anything lmk! In the meantime you can find my masterlist here!

Next request: main six reacting to an Mc from our world

Request are closed

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years

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Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 1

Word Count: 3,296

POV: Starts with Reader and switchs to Crosby

Warning: Language

Notes: Ok so I’ve wanted to do a Crosby series for awhile and this idea has been stuck in my head. I’m not sure how long this series will be, kind of just seeing where it will go. Hopefully you’ll all stick around and see where this goes.

READER POV

It was September of 2015, that was the first time Sidney Crosby met the woman who would change his life; only he didn’t know that then. He first saw you at Marc-Andre’s house, when you were standing there talking to Flower’s wife, Veronique. He didn’t know that a chance encounter at the same salon had led to you and Vero becoming best friends. What he did know was that you had to be one of the most beautiful women he ever saw.

You were wearing a pair of white shorts with a navy peplum off the shoulder top. To Sidney, you looked gorgeous, cute and casual; not really trying too hard knowing you were at a party with a room of NHL players. He could already see all the young single guys on the team sniffing around you. He couldn’t really blame them, considering where his thoughts had drifted the moment, he laid eyes on you. Wanting to know more about you, he made the decision to introduce himself. “Great party Vero, thanks for having everyone here before the season gets underway.”

“Yeah sure, it really wasn’t anything. Marc-Andre and I were glad to do it.” Sid shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited for his friend to make an introduction to you. Veronique finally took pity on him after a minute or two. “So Sid, this is my friend (Y/N). (Y/N) this is Sidney Crosby.”

You held out your hand to him, and he took. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Sidney…or Sid…I mean everyone calls me Sid…so if you want…” You hadn’t really intended to say his name, and it seemed like he just realized that as a small blush crept up his cheeks.

“Well, Sid it is, then.” And then you added, just to put him at ease. “Everyone calls me (Y/NickN), so feel free.”

That comment seemed to put him a little bit more at ease. “So how do you and V know each other?” You proceeded to tell him how you and Vero met at the salon and bonded over the same Starbucks order. When she found out you were in marketing, she asked to pick your brain for her children’s clothing line, she was starting with Catherine Letang. The three of you became fast friends, going to brunches and dinners; so it was natural when they invited you to this pre-season get together. The conversation with Sidney was so natural neither one of you noticed that Veronique had left the two of you alone. Sid talked a lot about hockey, but you really weren’t surprised, as the face of the NHL and one of Pittsburgh’s premier athletes; you expected as much. What you were surprised about was when he switched the topic of conversation to history. It was as if he knew you were a history buff.

You found yourself talking about your last trip to Europe, where you tried to take in as many historical sites as you could, and Sid chimed in with some of his favorite places. It wasn’t until both of you had an empty glass that you realized you’d passed the last couple of hours just chatting essentially about nothing with Sidney Crosby.

“So, can I get you another drink?” He asked staring at your empty wine glass.

“Yes, please.” He took the glass and headed inside the house.

Catherine was the first one to sneak over to your side. “Looks like you and Sid are hitting it off.”

“Oh stop. We’re just talking is all.” Grant it, it was probably one of the best conversations you’d had with a guy in a long time. “I mean…well, he’s Sidney Crosby and I’m just…well, I’m just me.”

“Oh my god (Y/N), you have no idea how absolutely great you are, and Sid would be lucky to be with you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, but I’m not going to get my hopes up. It’s literally one conversation.”

“Fine, but don’t mind me if I give it a little nudge in the right direction.” Catherine raised her eyebrows as Sid came back with the wine.

“So where were we, was it Rome, Paris or London?” You smiled at his cute little joke, as the two of you continued talking. By the end of the night, you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. He walked you to your car, but never really made a move; which was both sweet and confusing at the same time.

By the time you made it home, you convinced yourself that the whole night really didn’t exist. This was only confirmed when you didn’t hear from him the following week, not that you really expected him to call, but it set the tone for next time you saw him. Which ended up being after the first home game of the season when everyone went out to celebrate the win. You’d ended up at the game with Veronique and Catherine, so it was only natural when you went out to the bar with them afterward.

Sid was casual and maintained a safe distance around you. It felt kind of weird after the great evening you’d had before, but if that’s the way he wanted to play it, so be it; you were not one to go chasing after someone that didn’t want you. So, you spent most of the evening talking and laughing with Beau. And so went most of the season. You’d basically become an honorary wag, just without being a wife or a girlfriend of a player. You were at most home games and ended up going to several events that involved the team. Each time, Sid was polite, but things never went back to the way they were the first night that you met.

As the season went on, you got a behind the scenes look at what it was like to either be married to or dating a player and if you were being honest; you were glad things with Sidney hadn’t progressed. It was stressful and you saw what a toll the long road trips and constant on the go schedule took on relationships. It wasn’t until later in the season though, that you truly saw how difficult being a significant other could be. Marc-Andre had gone down, after taking a puck the helmet. Everyone in the arena could tell something wasn’t right, and as you saw him get help skating off the ice Vero grabbed your hand for support. There was no news, no one went running down to the tunnel to see what was going on and no one called to say what had happened. You literally just sat there telling your friend that things would be fine. It wasn’t until after the game was over that you found out he had suffered a concussion and was being taken to the hospital for further evaluation. Since it was his second of the season, the Pens were taking every precaution possible with their star goalie. The question in your brain though, was why someone hadn’t told his wife that.

A week later when you, Vero and Catherine were having dinner you questioned them about it. The answer coming back that it’s just the way things work. “Well, I think that’s stupid. They should have a person that keeps in contact with you guys and lets you know what’s going on. I mean what happens if it’s at practice do you get a call then?”

“Not usually, unless it’s from one of the other guys.”

“See that’s just messed up. There should be someone, I don’t know like a…what’s the word I’m looking for?” They both exchanged a confused look with one another as if they had no idea what you meant. “A liaison, that’s it.” To which they stared at you as if you grew three heads. “I don’t mean it like that, like a go-between. Someone that helps with communication and such.”

“I totally agree, but it seems like no one has any time to do that,” Vero told you. “They’re too busy playing the game and working on the injured player to think about us who are sitting there worried sick out of our mind.”

“So, they should create a position. I mean I’ve seen a couple places where the organization is falling short on things and you guys seem to be stepping in.”

“What do you mean?” Catherine asked.

“Well like when the WBS players get called up there’s nowhere for them to go, but a hotel, unless they end up staying with one of you guys. If you had a liaison there, that person could facilitate a place for them to stay and stuff. I mean other than just getting them here. They could do the same for any players that get traded as well.”

You seemed to have both Vero and Catherine sold on this idea. Though for some reason you didn’t think you were selling anything, this was just more like a little rant because you’d seen how upset Vero had been when her husband got hurt. The three of you hashed out all kinds of details about it the entire night. What you didn’t expect was the phone call you received, several days later, from Mario Lemieux’s office asking you to come in. You assumed it was about the position you’d mentioned to Vero and Catherine, but also expected them to be there. However, it was quite evident they weren’t when you finally went to talk to the legendary NHLer.

You’d been introduced to him before at parties, but never truly sat down and had a conversation with the man, and even though you’d met some famous people in your life; you were still a bit intimated meeting Mario. “Have a seat (Y/N), I assume you have an idea why I called you in?”

“Well, I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I would say it has to do with the lack of a position in your organization that I talked about with Veronique and Catherine.”

“Yes, they both called me, as well as their husbands and were quite excited about the prospect of us implementing this into the team. Honestly, I can’t believe we hadn’t thought about it before.” You never expected Mario to say something like that. “When I spoke to my wife about it, she agreed that it would’ve been something that eased her mind when I was playing, especially later in my career. So tell me a bit more about it?”

You then proceeded to highlight some of the situations the girls and you had discussed previously. “It might not be a full-time position, more something that could be distributed out to a couple different people who are already on staff.” You added that part because truly you didn’t know, this was really uncharted waters for you.

“I disagree. I can see this being a very full-time for someone. I would expect them to be at every practice, every game, both home and away, just the way our training staff is. Plus, there would be all the outside interaction as well, like contacting people we’ve just traded and getting them settled; not to mention transitioning the WBS players as you said.” When you looked at it that way, you supposed that the job would definitely be over forty hours a week for whoever took it over. “It’s why I want you to take the position.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You’d heard what he said but you really hadn’t comprehended it.

“This is your idea and a hell of a one at that. You seem to have the vision of it, and I can’t see anyone better to run it.” To say you were flabbergasted was an understatement. Never did you anticipate that this was where your conversation with Mario would go. “Obviously, there will be kinks that need to be worked out, and who better to iron them, then you.” You simply nodded your head, still digesting the whole idea. “You already have a great rapport with the team and their significant others, so there’s already a trust level there. Which is something I feel the job would need.” You had to agree about that factor, though you hadn't thought about it until he brought it up. “I’m not saying this a lifetime position, but it’s definitely something I want to try for at least the next year or more. So, what do you say are you in?”

Were you? Part of you was dying to take the job, it would be something so completely different than what you were doing now, but then your current job paid you pretty well so you weren’t ready to give that lifestyle up for the unknown. Mario must have seen your hesitance. “Look, I’m going to make it worth your while.” He scribbled down a figure, sliding the piece of paper over to you. You couldn’t hide your reaction when you saw the amount scratched out on the paper. It was definitely more than you were making now, but there was still that unknown factor of where you would be in a year.

Weighing the options out in your mind, you decided that this was a once in a lifetime chance. You held your hand out to Mario, saying, “It looks like you’ve got yourself a new staff member, Mr. Lemieux.”

“Welcome aboard (Y/N) and from now on it’s Mario.” Later, after you went over the details of when you would start, which you both decided would be after you left your current job; you walked out of the office looking forward to what new adventures lay ahead, for you had an idea it was going to be very interesting.

SID’S POV

After that first night that you’d met (Y/N), you literally couldn’t get her out of your head. She was the last thing you thought about that night and the first thing that came to your mind when you woke up. Maybe it was how incredible she looked last night or the way she carried on a conversation with such passion, but you couldn’t seem to get her out of your brain. It was the reason you were late for practice, as you found yourself lying in bed just a little bit longer daydreaming of when you would talk to her again.

All through drills, you couldn’t get her off your mind. Wondering when you should call her; was today too soon? What you didn’t notice was that you’d missed half your shots, made extremely sloppy passes during the powerplay drill and practically had a puck hit you in the head as you were thinking of all these things. Geno, finally skated up to you, tapping your helmet with his stick. “Earth to Sid. Where you at today?”

“Sorry, Geno. Guess my mind really isn’t in the game today.”

“Well, you better get it together. Season is starting soon.” Geno was right, if (Y/N) could occupy your thoughts after one conversation, what would happen after one date, and if you were worse after one date, what would happen if you were actually in a relationship. It was that thought that convinced you not to call her. There would be time for relationships when hockey was over. So, (Y/N) might be the perfect woman for you, but if it was meant to be she would still be there when your career ended.

Still, it was hard to see her out at the team get-togethers. She’d practically became a member of the group. Of course, you tried to be nice, but you could tell that when you didn’t call her after that first night; she’d taken the hint and kept her distance. Still, it was hard to watch her laugh at something Jake or Schultzy would say. Harder yet to see her touch Beau’s arm in an intimate way.

It may have been killing you inside each time you saw her, but you knew it was better for your career this way. If there was any silver lining to this, it was at least you didn’t have to see her all the time. There were times when she came to the games, dressed all cute in jeans and a sweater, and you wanted nothing more than to take her home with you those nights, but (Y/N) wasn’t the kind of woman you took home for the night and then forgot about. She was too much of a distraction, so you tamped down your lust for her and focused solely on hockey. That was until you walked into the film room and she was standing there with Mario. Seeing her at parties and the bar was expected, but having her invade your work-life caught you off guard. There wasn’t a chance to ask her what she was doing here, as players filtered in and she remained in conversation with Mario.

Once, everyone was settled Coach Sullivan turned things over to the owner. “I know you all know (Y/N), so I’ll save the long introduction, but I’m sure you’re wondering why she’s here.” It was the question foremost in your mind. “I’ve hired her on as the team’s new Personal Players Assistant. I know you’re probably wondering exactly what this position entails, so I’m going to let (Y/N) fill you in on that.”

“Hi guys, I know most of you never thought you’d be seeing me here that’s for sure, and on the other hand, a couple of you may already know about this. This position was brought about because of the lack of communication between the team, players and their significant others when there is an injury. I’m basically going to start off being a liaison or go-between for you guys, along with a bunch of other things, like…” You sat there listening as (Y/N) talked about her new job with the team, though you wouldn’t lie it was hard to pay attention when she looked so damn beautiful. As she spoke, you couldn’t help but watch the way her lips moved and couldn’t help imagining how they would feel on your skin. You closed your eyes in hopes that would make your mind stop wandering, only it served to have other images pop into your head. Thoughts of those lips wrapped around your cock, as she knelt before you looking up from between your lashes, permeated into your brain. Your eyes flew open and it was then that you realized you’d missed half of what she said.

“So on that note, I have these papers here for you guys to fill out and get back to me.” She handed them over to Rusty, and he took one and started passing the rest. “Hopefully, this crazy idea will end up being advantageous for everyone and you won’t get too sick of looking at my mug at every practice and game.” Wait did she just say she was going to be at every practice…and game? Shit, you should’ve been paying attention instead of daydreaming about this woman. “If you guys have any questions, my contact information is on the paper, and my office is just down the hall. I’m looking forward to working with all of you.”

“Thanks (Y/N). I’ll make sure these get back to you.” Coach Sullivan said and then she and Mario slipped out of the room. You stared at the paper in your hand, seeing nothing but (Y/N)’s face staring back at you. How were you going to make it through every day seeing her face, her body? The better question was how were you going to concentrate on hockey with (Y/N) around you? There was only one answer, and that was you were going to have to avoid her at all costs.

#Not So Dangerous Liaison Series #Sidney Crosby #sidney crosby imagine #Sidney Crosby Imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #Pittsburgh Penguin Imagine #Pittsburgh Penguins fanfic

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 5 Part 2

Hello all, it’s me, back again with another chapter of the Midnight Striga!! I hope you all enjoy. Thank you.

“... And that’s everything I know about human anatomy.” Luz finished, as Gus eagerly wrote down her answer while the others watched in amusement. She quirked her eyebrow at the younger boy’s enthusiasm. For the past 20 minutes she’d been answering his questions as best she could, and each answer got her a huge grin, a bear hug at one point, and frantic scribbling across a notebook he had produced. It was like having a little brother, really, but less annoying… for now.

Clearing her throat, Willow decided to broach a topic that had been on her mind since they started this trip. “So, Miss Owl Lady, is it true that you’re cursed?” Willow carefully asked.

“Yup.” Eda bluntly replied. “One hundred percent.” She shrugged, unbothered by the question. “Not much I can really do about it, but I’ve learned to live with it.”

“So the legend is TRUE!?” Gus exclaimed, eyes wide with shock, and a little excitement.

Eda snorted. “Not hardly.” At the confused looks she got, even from King and Luz, Eda elaborated. “The general idea is right, but the whole thing is skewed.” Eda paused, glancing up at the sky. “I don’t know where the part about the Covens clambering for me in school came from, ‘cause it’s the first I’ve heard of that, unless they’re talking about the times they ambushed me to join at the early Coventions; that honestly just annoyed me, and it’s partially why I don’t like the things. If I’m gonna make a decision like that, it’ll be by myself, thank you!” She huffed, getting soft snorts from the others.

Grinning at her audience, Eda continued. “As for the whole ‘ego’ thing, I was already well-known troublemaker around Bonesburough, so even if it did go to my head, my behavior wouldn’t have changed at all.” This got nods of agreement from Luz and King, and looks of dawning understanding for Willow and Gus. Knowing what she would have to share next, Eda took a deep breath. “For my curse, I can tell you for fact that it wasn’t the Titan, or whatever cockamamy story the EC spread; a Witch cursed me. Specifically, they broke into my room and cursed me the day before try-outs for the Emperor’s Coven.” She said softly, provoking gasps from the group; shock from Willow and Gus, and outrage from her roommates, something that brought a smile to her face. Clearing her throat, she continued. “As for me denouncing the Coven System,” she said, making air-quotes, “All I did was say that Covens weren’t for me and forfeited my match for a spot in the EC.” She finished, gaining bewildered stares from the two Hexside Students.

“You gave up a spot in the Emperor’s Coven?” Willow breathed out, unsure if she was appalled or impressed.

“Why!?” Gus exclaimed, utterly flabbergasted by Eda’s decision.

Eda shrugged, indifferent to their confusion, but willing to explain. “Because I only cared about joining so I wouldn’t have to have any of my magic sealed. Plus,” She sheepishly rubbed her head, blushing lightly in embarrassment. “The other person actually cared about joining the Coven to help people. I could get the same outcome I wanted by not joining a Coven at all, but they wanted to make the world a better place. I’d say I made the right call.” She finished.

Willow and Gus were amazed. They still couldn’t really wrap their heads around her worldview, but the fact that she was willing to give up such a prestigious position that would’ve given her exactly what she wanted because her opponent had more selfless reasons… It was inspiring. King was bewildered; Eda’s motive for forfeiting went completely over his head, as he just couldn’t understand giving up power so someone else could get it, but he perfectly understood her view of being herself, no one could challenge the mind of the King of Demons. Luz… Luz was shocked, face gone white at what Eda had just said.

“Okay, wait a minute, back up. What did you mean, ‘seal your magic?’” Luz demanded, shaking with barely repressed anger.

Eda blinked. “Uh, I did tell you that joining a Coven means you can only use magic associated with it.” She pointed out. She was honestly a little shocked about how viscerally the kid was reacting, with Willow and Gus actually looking a little frightened at her reaction.

“You told me that, yes, but you didn’t tell me they actually made it IMPOSSIBLE!!” She shouted. She was furious. She had already thought the system here was pretty twisted, but this was beyond the pale.

“Well, how does the Human Realm do things?” Willow broached, hoping to change the subject. Gus nodded his agreement to her question, though more as a result of genuine curiosity. Eda herself was a little curious; the kid had mentioned offhandedly that the way the Boiling Isles did things was very different from back home, but never elaborated.

Luz snorted, feeling bitter. “That’s an understatement.” She inhaled, taking a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Slowly dragging a hand down her face, she elaborated. “Back home, we have Guilds. Guilds basically act as a way for Mages to get work reliably; as part of a Guild, missions and requests are sent in, which a member can take to complete in exchange for a listed reward. Joining a Guild is neither permanent nor mandatory, it’s just a way to make things more convenient for Mages, that’s all.” She raised her head, looking them all in the eye. “Also, being in a Guild has no bearing on what type of magic you can use or know; while some Guilds may have certain requirements for joining, they are rarely, if ever, connected to what type of magic you know.”

“But how do you keep everything from falling to Chaos!” Gus exclaimed, mind whirling at the influx of information.

Luz shot him a flat look. “It’s not anarchy; we do have an overarching organization that deals with magic-related matters and crimes, but we don’t have anything cementing an absolute structure to things. If you break the law, whether you do so using magic or not, you still have to answer to law enforcement and will be punished. There’s just no reason to suppress or control magic to such an extent. Most people, whether they have magic or not, just want to live their lives, so forcing them into a particular system or group makes no sense.”

“But what about people mixing magic?” Willow asked.

Luz blinked. “What about it? It’s no different from using magic any other way.” She shrugged, not seeing the big deal.

“Well, some kids at school tried mixing magic, and caused chaos! They trashed a bunch of stuff and hurt some of the faculty!” Gus argued.

Luz raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. “And that’s different from any other day, how exactly?” She challenged, causing the two to blink. She continued. “The way you phrased it, they were being reckless; that’s a problem regardless of whether you know or are combining forms of magic. It honestly just sounds like they were trying to show off and went too far.”

“B-But, they wouldn’t have had those problems if they stuck with the magic of their track!” Willow insisted, though she would admit that it sounded fake, even to herself.

“And you know that how exactly?” Luz asked. When Willow clammed up, she added a little more. “Accidents happen, and people get hurt. Those exact same things had to have happened when your people first started practicing the magics that would form the Coven System.” As Willow and Gus seemed to fold in on themselves, Luz relented a little. “Look guys, nobody’s forcing you to learn more than one form of magic. Most people back home don’t learn more than one, either.” As the two perked up at that, she elaborated. “Just because you technically can learn every type of magic, doesn’t mean somebody wants to. People are always going to gravitate towards their personal interests, and that’s just a fact of life. That’s why I think the Coven System is crazy, because it’s putting an unnecessary restriction on people. But that’s besides the point, let’s talk about this sometime else, okay?” She pleaded, wanting to move on from the increasingly frustrating conversation.

“Yeah, as fascinating as this is,” Eda drawled, genuinely being fascinated by the debate, but wanting to get going, “We should really be moving along.”

With that, everyone started heading out.

A sickening crunch ripped through the air. A squelching sound and chewing could be heard as a lumbering figure peaked out of the shadows, teeth stretched into a bloody grin. A shadow darted across the area, silently slicing through the throats of unsuspecting Coven Guards. A Guard uselessly struggled in the air, a long coiled shape contorted around their body, slowly twisting their head to the side as it pulled at them, a snap soon being heard. Figures slowly prowled towards the Covention center, weapons gleaming.

Boscha growled, fighting the urge to snap at the elbows jabbing into her as she walked through the Covention, steadfastly ignoring the glares and whispers aimed her way. Trying to distract herself, she pulled out her Scroll. There were no new messages, aside from another blistering rant from Bo; it made sense, seeing as all of her old clique had blocked her. She snorted at that. It made sense after all, who wanted to deal with the psycho who spent nearly a week beating any and every demon they could find near senseless and had burned the throat of their “best friend.”

Covertly palming her lighter, she subtly raised it to her lips, sucking in the delicate flame with a relieved sigh, the minty flavor balancing her nerves. She wondered if she might be forming a habit. At least she wasn’t lunging at fires to eat anymore, that had been pretty embarrassing. Glancing around, utterly disinterested in the bevy of Covens, she didn’t notice as she crashed into someone.

“Oof! Watch it you- YOU.” A familiar voice growled out. Glancing down, Boscha spotted the furious form of Amity sprawled down in front of her. Boscha slowly backed up, giving the girl room to pull herself to her feet. “Just what are you doing here?” Amity coldly demanded, crossing her arms. Her voice almost, but not quite, concealing the burning malice within. “I thought you always said Coventions were lame?”

“They are.” Boscha bluntly stated, relieved to be on a familiar topic. She shrugged. “But I’ve got nothing better to do, so I thought I might as well come and check it out. Nothing else going on today.”

Amity raked her gaze up and down the other girl’s frame, feeling a little frustrated at just how nonchalant she was asking. “You really don’t care, do you?” Amity muttered, feeling a smidge of disappointment. She turned a painfully steady gaze to Boscha’s face, locking eyes with her. “Do you really not care about what you did to Skara?”

“Since when do you care?” Boscha asked, feeling surprised. As much as she had previously claimed that she and Amity were friends, Boscha was painfully aware of how detached the girl was from the rest of the clique. As Amity’s face gained a dangerous look to it, Boscha winced at how, well, Bitchy she had sounded saying that. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I mean, since when did you really have a relationship with Skara that would make you ask like that?”

‘Boscha… apologized?’ Amity thought, feeling flummoxed. Steeling herself, a familiar indignation filling her, she focused on the rephrased question, answering it. “Since she came to my house bawling her eyes out into my shirt asking what she did wrong.” She uttered gravely, taking a bitter satisfaction at Boscha’s flinch.

“She-?” Boscha started, feeling a little shocked. She knew that she had hurt Skara, but this? Eyes turning downcast, she morosely uttered. “She’s better off without me in her life.”

“At least you recognize that.” Amity scathingly replied. She stepped close to Boscha, chin to chin almost. “I… have more regrets about my life than I’ll willingly admit, and have done things that kept me up at night from guilt. But you? You betrayed the trust of the person who cared about you the most in the world, not in your right mind or otherwise. So I’m only going to say this once.” She carefully tilted Boscha’s chin down so their gazes were level. “Stay. Away. From Skara.”

Pulling back, lightly dusting herself off, Amity turned on her heel. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a presentation to take part in.” She gave Boscha a backwards glance. “Have a nice day.” She said, almost as an afterthought.

Boscha sighed, morose at the confirmation that, yes, she was an awful friend. Still, at least she could use the Coven to distract herself from how crappy she felt. And hey, maybe Luz was here? ...Pfft! Nah! Chuckling to herself in a bitter tone, Boscha wandered through the Covention, steadfastly ignoring the looks, the whispers, the sneers. It wasn’t any different from her dreams really, just less graphic.

“And here we are!” Willow said, forcing a note of cheer into her voice. The conversation they had had prior still weighed on her and Gus, but they didn’t begrudge Eda or Luz any. It was just… a lot to take in. “The Bonesburough Covention center.” She stated, hands on her hips as Gus made an expansive, showy gesture next to her. She felt a hint of pleasure at the snort of amusement Luz gave at their theatrics.

As they made their way through the Covention, Luz quickly picked up on something. “Wait a minute, are these all, like jobs or something?” She asked, feeling bewildered.

“Uh, yeah?” Gus replied, feeling confused. “Isn’t that how those Guild things worked?”

Luz shook her head, still feeling a little surreal at the sight as she processed it a little more. “Not really? A lot of these Covens flat out don’t need magic at ALL! Heck, there’s a Baking Coven, why would you need magic to bake!?” She exclaimed, gesturing to the Coven stand in question.

The two Hexsiders glanced at each other, neither having ever really thought about it. They shrugged. Luz waved them off. “Forget it, I’ll just chalk it up to another reason why the way things work around here confuses me.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Eda mused, honestly puzzled herself as she thought about all the Covens and how little some of them had to do with magic, or, in some cases, magic just made things more difficult. But the way Luz phrased it… She shook her head, not letting herself get sucked down the drain following that line of thought. “King already left to start squeezing these clowns for freebies, so what do you two dweebs want to do while we’re here?” She asked, lightly scratching at the bundled cloth holding her hair in place, turning to Gus and Willow as the target of her question.

The two turned to each other, starting up a whispered debate. This hadn’t really turned out how they thought it would. They had been so excited to show their friend some of their world… and she didn’t like it, moreover she nearly hated it! But, they could still have some fun, even if things weren’t how they expected. Turning back to Eda, a woman they had gained some respect for after learning a bit more of her past. “We could go see the Emperor’s Coven exhibit?” Willow offered, knowing that it would most likely be the most directly exciting thing here, even if Eda didn’t like the group. “I hear they have a special guest!”

“Maybe I’ll be able to get some members to sign my forehead!” Gus cheered, heedless of the sheepish looks from Willow and Luz, as well as Eda’s annoyance. The boy was utterly unshakable in his enthusiasm.

Eda snorted. “Ugh, fine! But if this all turns out to be boring, the three of you are manning my Stand for a week, got it?” She faux-threatened; she wasn’t really going to go through with it, but seeing them squirm was good for a laugh, even if it didn’t phase Luz.

With their plan set, the four headed into the center of the Covention, unknowing of the group creeping through the center, malicious grins all around.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #willow park #gus porter #king the owl house #eda clawthorne #boscha the owl house #amity blight #magic

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