Four Hundred and Twenty | Yogscast Lewis (xReader)

E i g h t

E i g h t

T h e  F i r s t   f r o m  M a n y

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{Italics = Flashback} {Bold Italics = Flashback Thoughts}

{[Y/F/N]= Your Full Name}{[Y/M's/N]=Your Mother's Name}

A/N: You get the picture :)

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1993 - Little Baddow

The van approached the corner and began to turn. It had been almost too dangerous as the edge of the rubber tyres barely skidded the white varnished fence that had been newly painted. 

Each house on the street had every outburst of personality, a variety of latest styled houses to thatched roofed cottages that you could imagine yourself sitting in your armchair by the fireplace, cosy with a mug of hot beverage and Jammy Dodgers.

[Y/N] knew a lot of things. For only five years old, she already knew the world - something which no toddler really notices about.

"Mummy," She called from the back of the car as she watched the van behind using the mirrors. "Will I be able to play the piano before bedtime, now that we have our own house?"

She heard her mother - [Y/M's/N] - chuckle with a smile before replying: "Yes of course, that's why we bought it detached so we'll be able to do so...but please remember that you have to complete your flute pieces first."

"But I've played the same suite twice!" The little girl fell back with a groan, huffing as she compacted the leather seat. Afterwards, she pulled back over the seat belt before placing her hands on the back of the driver's seat. Her head was perched in the middle, anticipated to see the new scenery in the front of the car.

Moving was not a rare thing for her family, she realised ever so quickly. Her parents moved constantly: trying to find a place. She knew though, that there were deeper meanings whenever they tried to explain why they moved. However, [Y/N] did not needed to worry about it anymore. For that it was the last time they would move, and for the better for her and her family.

When the van stopped in front of them, and carefully parked over the pavement by the fenced house, all she could do was stare intently at the beautiful house in front of her. It gave a sense of security, almost homely she would call it. Her father had exited the van alongside the driver, who began helping him unload their furniture and belongings with them. Her mother ushered her out of the car, and she obliged and rushed out to get a better view of the neighborhood.

To her: [Y/N] knew it would be a great home for her and her parents.

There were green hedges and topiaries lining the fence, with a gravel path lined with flowers and lights. A rose bush was planted by the window sills as well as dangling colourful violets on the ironed framed- style covers. It was a slight modern house, with already a working doorbell that her mum checked.

[Y/N] stood in front of the front fence, completely ignoring what was happening around her. All she clutched was her flute placed inside a case as well as a rugged bag with her pieces in - including some paper and pencils that were all worn out and ripped. Her clothes did not scream of ambitions and higher class, almost too simple unlike her parent's velvet blazers and posh hats.