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messers-moony · 3 years

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Home | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five goes through everything with his best friend, and when they return with the announcement of their marriage his siblings are appalled.

Request: “I can request a FiveXreader where the reader is loving, sweet and naive, Five's best friend but the reader has no powers (You can invent a way how they became best friends and they are in love with each other, cliché but I love) One day the reader was sitting in front of the Umbrella Academy and saw Five leave in a hurry (The scene that he will travel in time) In this the reader does not abandon Five and decides to travel in time with him, they end up trapped in the apocalylipse, can you make them stay together? (Like married I don't know) And also the scene where they go back to 2019? Sorry, if this so bored”

Five couldn’t believe his eyes. After a failed mission, he and his siblings decided to sneak out. Klaus had spotted a park on the way home, and that’s where they went. For the first time in years, they felt like kids again. They were all ten years old and had never experienced a playground before. Allison had never laughed as much, and Diego seemed to finally forget his insecurities while swinging from monkey bars.

Even on occasion, Luther would help Ben cross the monkey bars. Vanya was finally included, and Klaus had never seemed so carefree in his life. But Five had his eyes on someone else. She sat at one of the navy blue tables, quite a ways away from the playground, watching the siblings with a soft smile on her face. A notebook was in front of her while she twirled a pencil in her hand.

Curiosity killed the cat. Five was too intrigued not to sit with her. So despite this probably being the only time he could experience a playground, he sat in front of her, obscuring her vision from his other six siblings. Her eyes met green ones; they looked evergreen in the dark of the night. His hair almost looked black, but she knew it had to be dark brown.

“Good evening.” Her voice, it sounded like heaven to him, “Evening.”

It felt awkward, and the silence could’ve been cut with a knife, “My names Y/n.”

“Five.”

“Five? That’s unique.” Y/n complimented, and his cheeks flushed, “Thanks….”

Her vision went back to the other kids, “You’d think they’ve never seen a playground before.”

“They haven’t.” Five stated, looking at his siblings, “Our father is strict, so we snook out to come here.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as rude-“

“You didn’t.” Five smiled, looking at her e/c eyes.

Since then, Five would sneak out a lot more. His power was a fantastic tool. When he and his siblings began to sneak out more, Five always invited her. Klaus, Diego, and Vanya seemed taken with her. Y/n was always so kind and sweet. Her laugh radiated, and it made everyone around her smile. It was like she was Aphrodite, and he was Ares.

After becoming friends with the academy kids, Y/n had a habit of sitting outside the academy. She usually sat on the edge of the sidewalk with her notebook on her lap, pencil in hand. Five couldn’t remember a time when her hand wasn’t covered in graphite or ink from drawing. He adored it, though, because it was so her. It made him stare at his black pens, aimlessly smiling, knowing that she probably had the same color ink on her hand.

Becoming friends with Five meant knowing his ambition. Five Hargreeves was driven by his goals and wanted to do them regardless of the consequence. So Y/n knew about his dream to time travel despite his father's wishes. On a gloomy day, Y/n sat on the sidewalk. The only thing drawing her from her daydream was the slam of a gate.

“Five!”

He didn’t turn, “Five!”

Y/n grabbed his arm, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m- I’m going to time travel.” Five stated with that daze in his eyes, “And you need to stay here.”

“No! I’m not letting you go alone!” Y/n exclaimed incredulously, “Y/n, please.” Five pleaded.

She shook her head, “Absolutely not. Either we go together, or we stay here together.”

“Fine.” Five reluctantly agreed, holding out his hand for her.

Hesitantly Y/n slid her fingers through his. They were intertwining their hands together. Five was so focused on time-traveling correctly that he didn’t notice the pink flush on his best friend's face. But he did it, once and twice—finally a third time. Smoke clouded the area, and fire could be seen for miles.

Y/n dropped his hand and covered her mouth. Five circled in his spot in shock. He felt nauseous and queasy. He couldn’t believe that he let this happen. He shouldn’t have pushed himself. They were stuck. Fucking hell, they were stuck, and he couldn’t do anything. Y/n ran back to the academy, and Five followed her. The h/c haired girl stared at what used to be the Umbrella Academy. Now in ruins. Five dropped to his knees, tears collecting in his eyes.

“It’s- it’s gone….”

Y/n hugged him tightly, “It’s okay, we’re going to be okay.”

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna be-“

Five didn’t get to finish his sentence. He pushed her away and threw up to the side. When he finished, Y/n took her jacket sleeve and wiped it around his mouth—gently combing his hair from his face. Y/n had never seen Five look so drained. Seeing her in front of him, taking care of him made him break. Five broke into sobs holding onto her like a lifeline. Y/n rubbed his back and held him just as tightly.

“I’m here, Five. I’ll keep you safe.”

Being thirteen in an apocalypse seems like a death sentence, but when you grow up the way Five did, it’s more bearable. The first few months were awful. Searching for shelter, food, clothes. It was downright hell, but they made it through. On cold nights Five would hold her close to his chest, and on hot nights Y/n would always manage to get him cold water.

Years passed, and their friendship turned into a relationship. They needed each other to survive, and they just needed each other. Five couldn’t be more grateful that she insisted on coming. He couldn’t imagine doing this alone. But now, he had his girlfriend leaning her head on his shoulder while watching the fire. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, leaving occasional kisses on her temple.

“I couldn’t imagine this world without you.” Five confessed, “I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” Y/n challenged.

He smirked, “Oh, really?”

“Don’t let it go to your head, smartass.” Y/n snorted, “Too late, it’s already there, my love.” Five retorted.

She kissed his cheek, “Love you.”

“Love you too, darling.”

Five years later. They were twenty-five, and he wanted to make it official. It was a rather cold day wherever they were, and Five was holding her closer than ever. Y/n was shivering on the old mattress they had found. She was constantly snuggling closer to Five’s chest. They laid facing each other, and Y/n’s head was tucked under his chin. Five’s hand ran through her long hair - after being unable to cut it - soothing her nerves.

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“I want you - Y/n - to marry me.” Five repeated, looking down at her.

Her teeth chattered, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not like there’s anyone else to choose from.”

Y/n glared playfully, and Five chuckled, “Asshole.”

“So, what do you say? Make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

“I say that if my fiancé doesn’t stop being an asshole, then I won't marry him.” Y/n retorted jokingly, “I love you too, pretty girl.” Five replied, smiling softly.

He kissed her forehead and allowed her to muzzle closer into him. Gently he pulled the two plain rings he found. They were battered, of course, and the gold was dirty, but that didn’t matter. Five slipped the ring on her finger and his. Y/n placed a gentle kiss on his lips that he gladly returned. Sweet, soft, passionate, and full of love. A description of how she was.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Five replied, “Now get some sleep.”

Y/n was about to fall asleep when she heard Five mutter one last thing, “Y/n Hargreeves.”

29 years. 348 months. 1512 weeks. 10,585 days. Until a woman showed up in their shelter, offering them both a job. Five could remember pushing Y/n behind him defensively. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt in any interaction he had. The woman offered them a way home. Five turned to his wife, and she saw it. For the first time in forty-five years, she saw it. Hope.

Y/n took Five’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. The softest smile crossed his features before agreeing with the woman’s offer where both of them became assassins—partners in crime. Nothing turned Five on more than seeing his wife fend for herself, and god, was she good at it. Y/n was so naive and innocent when she was ten. But now? At the age of fifty-six, she wasn’t that girl anymore.

But when they reached the age of fifty-eight, Five finally found out the correct equation. They were at their last mission, make sure John F. Kennedy gets shot and everything goes to plan, but Five had different ideas. Taking Vanya’s book from his suitcase, he looked over the equations one last time. They were going back; Five would go home today.

“Y/n.”

“Yes, love?”

Five sighed, “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“To go home.”

Y/n’s smile was blissful; Five could’ve fainted on the spot, “Home?! Like- Like-“

“Home.” Five answered to his overjoyed wife.

Y/n kissed him more passionately than ever. Five could feel her gratefulness in her kiss. His hands placed themselves on her waist, and hers were around his neck. God Five never wanted to forget this feeling. The feeling of his wife in his arms, kissing him as she would never get enough. When they pulled apart, Five opened the portal. Gripping her hand, they jumped through and landed on the leaf-filled ground in the icy rain.

“Does anyone else see Little Number Five and Little Y/n, or is that just me?“ Klaus asked, not trusting his eyes; maybe it was an illusion from the drugs.

Five and Y/n stood up. The first thing Y/n noticed was the ring on her finger was too big now. But Five looked down at the suit he had been wearing previously. The blazer now reached his knees instead of his waist, and Y/n’s shirt was hanging off one of her shoulders. Five and Y/n looked at each other. They were thirteen all over again.

“Shit.”

He grabbed Y/n’s hand and dragged her into the academy. Y/n had only been in the academy a handful of times before, and she usually was only allowed in Five’s room because she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. His siblings followed aimlessly and took their spots at the table.

“What’s the date? The exact date.” Five inquired, grabbing different things around the kitchen.

“The 24th.”

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.”

Y/n took place beside him as Five began making a peanut butter marshmallow sandwich. The same snack he used to love as a kid. Y/n could remember him trying to eat it back at their apartment the commission provided them but complained it was too sweet. It seems that being in his teenage body again made him crave the sweetness of the snack.

“So, are we gonna talk about just what happened?” Luther questioned, but no one answered, “It’s been 17 years.”

Five scoffed, “It’s been a lot longer than that.”

The same big spatial jumped behind Luther as he began to take marshmallows from the cabinet, “I haven’t missed that.” Luther murmured.

“Where’d you two go?” Diego asked.

“The future.” Y/n answered politely, “It’s shit, by the way.” Five added spatial jumping beside her again and gently kissing her cheek.

The siblings stared in shock at Five’s sudden act of affection; Five could feel their eyes on him, “What?”

“You just kissed her.” Allison stated, “And?”

Allison didn’t say anything, “Is it a crime for me to kiss my wife or something?” Five asked agitatedly.

“Wife?!”

“Yes, wife.” Five sighed.

“Called it!” Klaus exclaimed.

“I should’ve listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing.” Five began as he looked through the fridge, “Jumping through time is a toss of the dice.”

He came back with peanut butter in his hand at the front of the table, his wife beside him; he took in the appearance of his siblings, “Nice dress.”

“Oh, well, Danke!” Klaus smiled.

“Wait, how did you two get back?” Vanya questioned.

“In the end, I had to project our consciousnesses forward into a suspended quantum state version of ourselves that exists across every possible instance of time.”

Diego couldn’t wrap his head around it, “That makes no sense.”

Five went to remark, but Y/n cut him off, “It doesn’t have to. All that matters is that we’re back.”

“How long were you two there?” Luther queried, “Forty-Five years. Give or take.”

Everyone looked at the two teens in disbelief, “So what are you saying? That you’re 58?”

“Well, not exactly. Our consciences are 58, but it appears that our bodies are back to 13.” Y/n answered.

“Wait, how does that even work?”

“It seems that Five might’ve gotten the equations wrong.” Y/n replied, and Five glared at her, “I’m not mad! I’m just happy we’re home. Appearance be damned.”

Five took notice of the newspaper in front of Y/n, “Guess I missed the funeral.”

“How’d you even know about that?” Luther inquired, “What part of the future do you not understand?” Five retorted.

“Heart failure?” Y/n asked, “Yeah/No.” Luther and Diego contradicted.

Five clicked his tongue, “Nice to see nothings changed.”

The teenage boy began to walk away, “Uh, that’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Allison questioned.

“What else is there to say? It’s the circle of life.”

Vanya was the first to get up and hug Y/n, “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too, Vanny. Me too.”

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hotpinkhoshi · 3 years

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kiss it better | five

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: tw for death, death of a parent, reference to drug addiction

word count: 4.5k

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

a/n: hi babies thank you for your patience, i know it’s been many many months since i’ve updated! the last time i posted for kib was all the way back in may, which is crazy, i know. but life has been weird and it’s been difficult for me to find the motivation to write. it’s slowly coming back for me and i’m so glad you guys have stuck around with me even if i haven’t been consistent. i’m more grateful than you know!

✩ index here ✩

“She did what?” Dahyun asked, her bite of gimbap nearly falling right out of her mouth.

Youngjae threw his head back and broke into laughter entirely at Mark’s expense.

Mark ran his tongue over his teeth and refused to look up at his friends, focusing awfully hard on the sketch he’d been working on in between appointments. He quickly realized that they had absolutely no sympathy for him.

“Yeah.”

It had been two weeks already since that night, and Mark was just now feeling comfortable enough to spill what had happened after he took you home. He liked to take his own time to process his thoughts before he revealed them to others, and quite frankly, he hadn’t even wanted to tell anyone. But he was starting to think maybe he needed an outside perspective.

“She has guts,” Youngjae said, after finally pulling himself upright in his chair. “Was it good?”

“Dude,” Mark warned, far from amused.

Dahyun cut in. “It’s a good enough question. From what I’ve seen, you guys have some intense sexual tension. If the kiss was hot, maybe it’s worth exploring.”

“We don’t have sexual tension,” Mark defended.

Youngjae snorted.

“Sure. But, let’s say if you did, and the kiss was good…” Dahyun trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows.

Groaning, Mark tapped the end of his pencil against the desk. He glanced up at the wall, his eyes naturally drawn to the photo of your shoulder, of the tattoo he’d designed and permanently inked onto your skin. It wasn’t the only photo he had pinned up of his previous work, but it was the one he looked at the most.

“She’s a kid,” he said, little to no conviction in his voice.

But you weren’t a kid. Mark knew in every way, you were an adult. Even mentally, emotionally, you seemed more mature than he felt most days. Packing up your belongings because you refused to live a life you weren’t satisfied with? He couldn’t imagine anything more grown up than that.

“Mark,” Youngjae’s tone was firm, serious this time. “It’s not the worst thing in the world if you have chemistry with someone. I know it may not be the most convenient girl for you, but… you’ve been by yourself for a long time. You can’t tell me you aren’t lonely.”

He hadn’t thought he was lonely until you came into his life. He had been fine, so fine, living on his own. Waking up alone, eating dinner alone, focusing on his work and living one day to the next.

But now, he looked forward to the sound of your keys in the door when you got home from your evening shift. He bought your favorite brand of orange juice instead of his. He didn’t mind watching outlandish and obviously fake reality shows if it meant that he got to hear your commentary along with it. More than anything, he’d gotten used to the way you made him feel. In the simplest of terms, he was happy.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mark said. “I already fucked it up.”

Dahyun narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”

He rubbed some of the tension out of his forehead, relaying the conversation he’d had with Taehyung that night to his friends. The exchange wasn’t longer than a few minutes, but it was long enough for Mark to potentially ruin everything you’d built for yourself in the last couple of months.

“I didn’t tell him everything - I couldn’t do that. But I told him I’d seen her in the city, that I thought maybe she worked in one of the restaurants near the shop…” A knot of guilt coiled in his stomach. “Fuck.”

He’d just wanted to do the right thing. You were young, you couldn’t see that your parents cared about you. Taehyung cared about you. They deserved to know where you were, especially after everything they had done for him. He could at least point them in the right direction.

“Well, shit,” Youngjae offered, a sympathetic frown on his face.

“I fucked her over, and I haven’t been able to look her in the eye since. We’ve just avoided each other for the last two weeks and I-” Mark heaved a breath, leaning back in his chair. “I hate it.”

He missed you. Even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

“I have an idea,” Dahyun said, her whole body perking up. “Don’t look at me like that, sometimes I have good ideas. Why don’t you invite her along for Yugyeom’s camping trip?”

“You mean the couple thing?”

Dahyun sighed. “It’s not a couple thing. It’s just… everyone there is part of a couple. Anyway, it might be a good way to make things less awkward.”

Mark blinked a few times, waiting for Dahyun to say ‘just kidding’ because it was an absolutely ridiculous idea. “What? How would that make things any less awkward?”

She shrugged. “I mean, it’s a great opportunity to break the tension. If you know what I mean.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Mark scowled.

You spent your entire shift thinking about Mark. Thinking about how you had completely messed up your relationship, and trying to figure out how to fix it all. It had been a stupid, drunken mistake, and you would take it back in a heartbeat if you could.

The past two weeks had been torture, tiptoeing around and trying your hardest to avoid him. You’d picked up extra shifts almost every day, figuring that if you were working, at least you didn’t have to pretend like everything was normal.

All you wanted was to come home, curl up on the couch with Milo and watch your favorite ridiculous TV shows while Mark snickered next to you, entertained by the disgustingly wealthy families on the screen no matter how much he pretended to hate it. You wanted to be able to lean into him, feel the body heat radiating off of him when his shoulder brushed yours.

You missed Mark. Even if you couldn’t say it out loud.

After much debating, you decided that the best way to apologize started with food. And you owed him, anyway, after he opened his home to you and let you stay there free of charge. A dinner was the least you could do.

You could tell once you walked into Paradise Tattoo just before closing time that Mark hadn’t been expecting you in the slightest. He was at the desk, going over papers with Dahyun, when the bell dinged to signal your entrance.

In his ripped jeans and muscle tee, all of his tattoos were on display for you, even the large quote he had inked onto his ribcage. You gulped and shoved your feelings down. That would only make things worse.

“Hi,” you said, greeting both Mark and Dahyun.

“Hey.” Mark scratched his head and straightened his posture. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” you started, wringing your hands in front of you. “I wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner? On me. I owe you, anyway.”

Dahyun piped up, a mischievous smirk on her lips, “That’s a great idea. Mark was just talking about how hungry he was.

Mark cleared his throat and shot his co-worker what looked suspiciously like a glare. “No, I’m fine. You really don’t have to-”

“Come on,” you said, hiding a smile. “How about burgers? There’s a good place around the corner. It won’t kill you to let me pay, will it?”

You could see Mark weigh his options as he chewed his lip. Either end up hungry, settling for some quick frozen food later on, or bite the bullet and let you pay for his dinner. You knew it would hurt his pride to do so, but you wouldn’t back down. It was more than just the free room and board that you wanted to make up for.

“Alright,” he finally agreed. “Let me grab my stuff.”

It only took less than ten minutes for you to walk down to the burger place, but it felt like an hour as awkward silence hung around the two of you. It wasn’t until you were both seated at a corner booth inside the restaurant that you finally spoke up.

“Listen, Mark,” you said, looking up from the packet of ketchup you’d been nervously squishing between your fingers. “About that night…”

“No, you don’t-” Mark was quick to interrupt, but you held your hand up.

“Just let me, okay?” You sighed.

You’d rehearsed these words countless times in the bathroom mirror, and right now it felt like they were slipping right out of your fingers. Where were you supposed to start? With the kiss, straight away? Or getting so drunk that you’d needed to be taken care of in the first place?

“I’m just… really sorry. I was stupid to drink that much and it’s not your job to watch after me. I should be able to take care of myself.”

Mark stopped you again. “I didn’t mind taking care of you.”

“But it’s not your job, Mark. I’m an adult, and you’re letting me stay with you and asking for nothing in return. The least I could do is make it easy on you.”

“Y/N, if you could have seen me at your age, you wouldn’t feel so bad. We all get drunk and stupid sometimes,” Mark said with a shrug. It almost relieved some of your guilt until you remembered the kiss in the bathroom.

“Well...” You shook your head and looked back down at your hands. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him for this one. “I really shouldn’t have ki-”

“Hi! My name’s Lana, I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you two something to drink while you look over the menus?”

A cheerful brunette appeared in front of you, a pen behind her ear and a wide grin plastered on her face. You glanced at Mark, then up at your waitress, not sure if you were grateful for the interruption or not.

“Um, can I just have a water?” you asked, voice small and uncomfortable in your throat.

“Same for me,” Mark agreed.

“Perfect! Let me know if you have any questions about the menu!”

You let out a long breath before you were able to look at Mark again. He was biting his cheek, his lips all twisted and holding back a laugh.

“What?” you asked.

“Her timing,” Mark got out, just as he let go of his laughter, throwing his head back.

To your own surprise, you found yourself shaking with laughter as well. Either from Mark’s contagious laugh giggle or the simple ridiculousness of the situation. Here you were, in a burger restaurant, apologizing to your older brother’s best friend for kissing him while you were heavily intoxicated.

You covered your face with your hands to suppress your own laughter, letting your back slump against the cushions of the booth. It all came to you then, just how silly you’d been the last two weeks.

“I am sorry, though,” you said, after you both settled down.

Mark’s eyes glinted as he watched you from across the table, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. “It’s alright. I mean it. Last time I was that drunk, I’m pretty sure I ran around the block in my underwear singing the Canadian national anthem.”

You giggled again at the mental image. “What? How did you even-”

“No idea. It’s like I was possessed by a drunk Canadian mischief demon.”

It was strange to imagine Mark and Taehyung in their teen years, since you’d been so young at the time, you could barely remember anything from that time of your life. You remembered Taehyung wearing the same pair of purple skinny jeans for three months because a girl at school had told him she liked them.

You remembered Taehyung letting you sit in the basement in your favorite cushioned chair while he and Mark played video games on the big screen. It had been your favorite place to read then, tuning out the rambunctious cries of defeat while you got lost in other worlds.

“So we’re okay, then?” you asked, after Lana had come back to take your order and left once more.

Mark nodded, a genuine smile on his lips. “We’re okay.”

“Maybe it’s weird, but…” you began, staring down at the wrapped silverware on the table instead of looking Mark in the eye. “Even though I grew up seeing you as Taehyung’s friend, that feels like a lifetime ago. And now I just kind of see you as… my friend. Like somebody I can trust.”

When you finally looked up at Mark, his expression was unreadable. His bottom lip was between his teeth, but his eyes looked somewhat uncomfortable. You worried for a second that you’d crossed a line.

“I owe a lot to your family,” Mark said after another long moment passed.

Even though you didn’t remember much about Mark from your childhood years, you knew his upbringing had been rough. His parents had been addicts, the kind that never should’ve been together, let alone bring a child into the world.

You’d never met his mom, but your own mother had made enough snide comments about her after Mark had gone home for you to understand just what kind of person she was.

“One of those low life, worthless drug addicts. Sleeping around with anyone that can help her out, if you know what I mean. Never should’ve been a mother.”

She had a funny way of showing her compassion sometimes.

Taehyung brought him over once after school and your mother had gotten one look at his threadbare clothes and hollow cheeks and taken him in as her new project. At first, he ate dinner with your family almost every night, and then she started making Taehyung pass over his any extra clothes he’d gotten that didn’t fit properly or that he simply didn’t like.

Mark did owe a lot to your family.

You didn’t know what to say. You’d been so young there was no way you could take credit for anything your parents had done for Mark, but still, you itched to comfort him. Even now, with the unsaid words lingering in the air, you sensed that he had never been able to fully open up to anybody. Though you didn’t deserve it, you wanted to be the first.

“Your mom,” you found yourself saying. “Is she…?”

Mark shook his head. “She’s gone. Passed away a couple years ago.”

Your face fell. If anything, you had expected her to have taken off for good or maybe gotten into some trouble she couldn’t get herself out of, but you hadn’t expected her to be gone.

“Oh, god, Mark. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

To your surprise, he only lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I hadn’t seen her in a long time before that. Maybe two, three years. Then my aunt showed up on my doorstep with a box of her things and told me she OD’d in a gas station parking lot a week before.”

His voice wavered only slightly, but enough to tell you he cared more than he let on. You could only imagine how painful it would be to hear of your own mother’s passing a week after the fact.

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

Mark shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s weird,” he said, tongue running over his lower lip as he paused. “I’d stopped seeing her as my mother so long ago that… I felt like I’d already mourned her death. Fuck, that sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“No,” you answered as you reached across the table, fingers laying across the back of Mark’s hand. “It doesn’t. At all.”

A moment passed between the two of you. You caught Mark’s eyes glancing down at your hand resting on his skin, but he made no move to avoid your touch.

“I never even went through her things. The box is just sitting at the back of my bedroom closet collecting dust.”

“Do you want to go through her things?” you asked.

Mark paused, chewing at the inside of his lip before he answered. “I don’t know.”

You nodded, somehow understanding exactly what he meant. Though you hadn’t gone through the same thing, you were familiar with avoiding a potentially painful and uncomfortable situation by simply pretending it didn’t exist. Hence why you had four unopened voicemails from your brother and parents.

You found yourself stroking the back of Mark’s hand with your thumb. It didn’t feel wrong to touch him like this, even though maybe it should have. All you wanted was to bring him a shred of the comfort he had deserved to have for much longer than you’d known him.

“Alrighty, and here we’ve got the bacon cheeseburger and sweet potato fries for the lady,” Lana exclaimed, immediately bursting your bubble as she returned to your table with your food balanced on a tray. You were quick to snatch your hand from Mark’s. “And a BBQ cheddar burger with curly fries for the handsome man.”

You didn’t miss the way Lana winked as she placed Mark’s food in front of him. This girl was not getting a generous tip from you, that was for sure.

“I told you, after that depressing dinner conversation, we need to do something fun,” you told Mark as you carried your skincare basket out from the bathroom into the living room.

“And this is fun for who?”

You threw him a playful glance and plopped down onto the floor in front of the couch on your knees, setting your basket on the cushion and sifting through it.

“Both of us. Just trust me.”

Catching the skeptic look on Mark’s face, you could only grin to yourself as you pulled out a tube of your favorite clay mask. He didn’t know just how relaxing a good face mask could be, but you were willing to show him.

“I’ll even go first,” you told him.

Mark lifted his feet to prop them up on the coffee table as Milo curled up like a tiny ball of cotton on his lap. You’d both changed out of your work clothes into comfy clothes, and you couldn’t help noticing how warm Mark looked in his white joggers and oversized black hoodie. You wouldn’t mind snuggling up into that space between his side and the couch cushion…

You sighed and shook your head, attempting to clear the less-than-platonic thoughts from your mind. If you were going to make this friendship work, you would need to stop thinking about him like that. Immediately.

“Can I ask you something?” Mark said after a beat of silence as you popped open the cap to your mask.

“Hm?” you asked, propping your personal sized makeup mirror on the couch so that you could see yourself while you applied your mask.

“Yugyeom’s family has a yearly pass to this campground, and every year he does this weekend camping trip…” he trailed off for a moment and you forced yourself not to react, instead focusing on applying your charcoal mask to your cheeks. “This year, it somehow ended up as a couple thing, so Dahyun suggested I invited a friend along. So…”

Lifting your eyes from your own reflection, you watched as Mark struggled to finish his thought.

“So…” you said, helping him along. “Are you asking me to come with you?”

Immediately, a neon flashing red alarm screeched in your mind. ‘This is a terrible idea! You must say no!’ it screamed.

“Only if you want to. I mean, it’s a cool place. Their lot is right by this swimming hole and there’s a fire pit, so we normally bring a ton of booze and cook our own food over the fire…”

Mark ran his fingers through his deep red locks of hair, his nerves displayed clearly on his face. You weren’t sure why he was so nervous to ask you, but it came off as incredibly endearing. Despite the warnings blaring in your mind, you found yourself nodding.

“Okay.”

Mark looked at you then, his eyes finally locking on yours, and the corner of his lips lifted in a hopeful smile. “Really?”

You couldn’t help grinning as well. “Yeah. I mean, on one condition…”

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” you replied, holding up the mask tube and popping the cap back open. “You let me put this mask on you.”

“Aish,” Mark said and shook his head. “No way. Not worth it.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby!”

You stood from the floor and climbed onto the couch, crawling to his side and squeezing some of the mask onto your index and middle fingers. “It’s not that bad!”

“Get away from me!” Mark exclaimed with a laugh, dodging your fingers. Milo hopped up onto the arm of the couch, stomping his cute little paws a few times.

“Just let me pamper you, Mark!”

He let out another laugh, louder this time, trying to reach for the mask to steal from your grasp, but he wasn’t fast enough. You giggled, ducking to miss his hands as he grabbed for your wrists.

Somehow, you found yourself straddling him, thighs resting on either side of Mark’s waist.

“Real men wear face masks!” you exclaimed with a shout of victory as you finally managed to smear a good amount of the clay mask across Mark’s left cheek.

“Oh, you little-” he replied, hands reaching for your sides underneath the long sleeved shirt you were wearing. He tickled your sides, a joyful laugh falling from his lips when you started squealing.

Milo yapped a few times from the arm of the chair, presumably because he thought that you were hurting Mark or vice versa, but his protective barks only made you laugh harder.

“Mark! Stop it!”

You gasped for breath, wriggling on top of him and dropping the mask tube, fighting between giggling and trying to swat his hands away.

“It’s what you deserve, you sneak,” he said, his hands still squeezing and tickling your sides, unknowingly drifting further up your shirt to your ribs.

Twisting and turning, you finally managed to grab his wrists and yanked them from under your shirt. You held them firmly in between your bodies, even though he could have easily overpowered you.

Your chest heaved up and down with the last of your giggles. Mark stared up at you, still smiling and out of breath. The air suddenly became thick as you held eye contact, your hands falling from his wrists to his chest.

“Y/N,” Mark whispered.

‘Danger! Danger!’ your mind yelled.

Mark’s hands, now free from your hold, landed on your hips. You felt his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt, stroking the bare skin of your stomach. Your heart pounded beneath your rib cage at his gentle touch.

“Mark,” you said, intending on telling him to stop, but it quickly died in your throat.

His chin tipped up, making you realize just how close you were to him now. You weren’t sure who had leaned in first, but only a few mere inches separated your lips from his now. If you only bent forward a bit, you could…

It reminded you, all of the sudden, of the kiss in the bathroom. It had been quick, but long enough for you to slide your tongue past his lips. You remembered the shock to your system the moment you had felt the cold metal of a tongue piercing.

“Y/N,” Mark said again. “Tell me to stop.”

His voice was quiet but you felt like you could read between the lines. He didn’t want to stop, and the only way he was going to stop was if you made it clear that you didn’t want this.

But you did. You’d wanted it from the moment he ran his fingers over the tattoo he’d inked onto your skin one of those first nights, a soft ghost of a touch that made goosebumps form on every inch of your skin.

You weren’t stupid, you knew that this was all wrong for a variety of reasons, the least of which being that he was your roommate. But that meant nothing to you compared to the way his hands felt on your skin.

Before you could open your mouth, tell him that you didn’t want him to stop, an 8-bit version of the Mario Kart theme blasted from somewhere behind you. You jumped, your heart skipping several beats from the surprise.

Mark took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, blinking a few times before he gently guided your hips to climb off of him. “Sorry, I should…”

The ringtone felt familiar but you couldn’t figure out why. Even as you watched Mark grab for his phone off the coffee table and immediately silence it, you wracked your brain to try and remember where you had heard that ringtone before.

It was as if Taehyung had known, the moment that Mark quieted the little voice in his head telling him not to be so close to you and that this was wrong in so many ways, and finally accepted his feelings for you.

Maybe he had a sixth sense.

The moment that had passed between you then had been effectively ruined as soon as he was reminded of two things: you were his childhood best friend’s little sister, and he had already ruined your life even if you didn’t know it yet.

But he’d been so close to giving in. You’d been on top of him, smiling in that innocently beautiful way that you did, your thighs caging in his hips. He hadn’t missed the fact that he could feel you with every inch of him, considering how he’d begged his body not to react, not to harden beneath you. Between the thin layers of his sweats and your sleep shorts, there was no way you wouldn’t notice.

Later, after you’d grabbed a washcloth so you could both wipe the face mask off your faces and awkwardly watch TV for an hour before enough time could pass for you to realistically head off to bed, Mark listened to the voicemail Taehyung had left.

“Hey man. I just wanted to let you know that uh, I’m going to try and head to the city and look for Y/N in a few weeks. If you see her again or have any idea where she might be, let me know. I really appreciate it, my mom’s been going crazy… anyway, maybe we can grab a drink or something once I’m in town. I’ll hit you up. Thanks again, Mark.”

Mark was glad he was in the privacy of his own bedroom when he listened to the message so you didn’t see the way he threw his phone down on the bed, muttering curse words to himself and trying to forget how heavenly you had felt on top of him.

It was impossible. All he could think about was your skin under his fingertips, how your lips had been so soft and smooth and close to his, and how the weight of you on top of him had been enough to make him hard.

His only option was to shut himself in the bathroom and crank the shower all the way to the coldest temperature that he could stand and pray that it would be enough to keep him from sneaking into your bedroom that night.

#mark tuan #got7creators #kibfic #got7 fanfic #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan angst #mark tuan fluff #got7 mark #got7 imagine #writing

407 notes · View notes

stephreynaart · 3 years

Text

Gravity Falls - “Waiting”

Pop-Pop AU

Stan sits in a hospital waiting room, thinking about his life and the people he loves.

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This is kinda old, but I realized I never posted it on tumblr. Hope ya like it!

Lots of fluff, the only ships are Soos and Melody.

AO3 LINK

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It had a square aspect ratio. Ink pen and watercolor on white heat pressed cotton paper in a bland white frame. One single blue flower in a red vase with what looks like a yellowish shadow. One shadow going left, the other going right. The lack of confidence and inexperience was obvious, the lines were unfocused and jagged, the color plainly filled the shapes and gave no other visual interest to the image.

Below the frame was a small white card that read “Painting donated by Jessica Blaise from Gravity Falls Elementary School”

Stan scanned the painting at least 20 times while sitting in that chair. The too rough and too soft at the same time chair that had similar copies populating the almost white room he sat in. The wallpaper bouncing off light pinks and blues with tiny ducklings as a makeshift wainscoting was starting to irritate the old man. It was too bright, and the consistent buzz of the fluorescent lights seemed so loud. Stan adjusted himself in his chair, switching his crossed legs to a wider spread and leaned his head against the wall.

The only other stimulus in the room were a few posters promoting proper hand washing techniques, the play area with a small table and chairs with large blocks, crayons and that weird “game” with the metal wiring and wooden beads that’s in every waiting room Stan’s ever sat in. He played with the toys to give himself something to do after he read all the magazines. The novelty wore off fast.

The television mounted on the wall was airing some cooking channel with no sound and no subtitles. Looking at food when you haven’t eaten in a few hours was practically torture, so Stan had been averting his eyes.

There were other paintings on the wall, one was less of a painting, but instead a print of a painting. He doubted that the artist got any compensation from it, if they were still alive. The other was a charcoal drawing done by a student from the community college a town away. Another square, but the entire image was black, the brightest thing on the page was an intruding infant hand coming from the left with the arm fading into the dark background. The fingers seemingly mid-twitch and grabbing at something. The lighting was dynamic and interesting. Stan swore it was a drawing of a penis the first time he glanced at it, which resulted in his brother’s laughter. Stanley smiled at the memory, it was only a few hours ago, but he relishes any time he can make Stanford laugh.

Stan’s eyes darted at the door in the far corner when it opened suddenly. He eased back into his chair when the nurse crossed the room to talk with the receptionist. He couldn’t hear the conversation very well, but could tell they were just gossiping and making jokes. Nothing that was of his interest. So he looked back to the elementary school child’s painting and analyzed it again. His eyes were dry and he was tired. He wished he could sleep, the chair wasn’t comfortable enough and when he did managed to sleep, his neck was sore when he woke up. He was only lucky Ford let him use his shoulder as a pillow for a while. He looked to his left and noted the book his brother placed in the seat. It seemed thick and in what looked like Hebrew. Stan wasn’t very surprised Ford was fluent in the language they were acquainted with as children. Their grandparents on their father’s side were the last to be fully fluent in Hebrew. It was like his brother to be curious of their heritage, but Stan only remembered a few phrases and words he learned from holidays and special event when he had to recite anything in Temple.

Stan crossed his arms and glanced at the clock on the wall and let out an exasperated sigh. It had only been 10 minutes since he last checked the time. He wanted to be at home, be in his soft warm bed and getting ready to eat pancakes at this time in the morning.

He and Ford were on the porch of The Mystery Shack when Soos rushed them off to the hospital the yesterday afternoon. What he originally thought would be a couple of hours of waiting turned into almost twelve. Apparently labour can last a long time.

Stan wished he could be a witness for Soos and Melody like he was when Dipper and Mabel were born, but Melody wanted her privacy, which Stan could respect, but Soos wanted him there…..so he and Ford waited in this bright, annoyingly pastel waiting room, twiddling his thumbs awaiting the arrival of the new member of the mystery family. He was glad he was in at least comfortable clothes, some gray sweatpants and a sweater Mabel knitted for him that read “godfather”.

He was never clear on what the title entailed, but it was mentioned a few times by Soos’ grandmother and the kids insisted that Soos was intending to ask him. He hadn’t, but he didn’t protest Stan wearing the sweater. Whatever job godfathers had, he was willing to play the part if Soos were to ask him.

Stan looked at the double doors a few feet away that lead out of the waiting room and into the halls. His brother left to find something for them to eat, but was taking his sweet time. The turkey being basted on the television was no help in aiding his growling stomach.

He distracted himself by returning his thoughts to Soos and Melody. Just down the hall they were experiencing the strange and beautiful phenomenon that was witnessing the arrival of a brand new person. Stan remembered the feeling so clearly. His entire life he’s felt the presence of human beings. It’s inherent in most people to feel when someone is in the room with you, the other soul sharing the same space as you. Imagine being in a room with a set amount of people and someone else comes in, but imagine they came in without using a doorway. Just appearing seemingly out of thin air. Suddenly another person is with you, and they’re brand new to the world, a life full of potential and power. Yes, today is indeed a happy day, but no amount of positive thinking would ease Stan’s nerves. His foot began to bounce and his hands unconsciously began to fiddle with each other. He didn’t want to think anything would go wrong with Soos’ baby, but anything can happen and life is so fragile, especially at the start of it.

He recalled his nephew’s nervousness the day Dipper and Mabel were born. His hands were shaking and he was constantly checking on his wife and asking the doctors loads of questions. He didn’t fully understand the twins’ father’s behavior until the end of that day.

Mabel’s birth was swift and easy. Her mother only needed to push one and a half times before she was here. It was as if she was eager to meet everyone waiting for her. She cried like most babies do, but Stan could’ve sworn they were tears of joy. While Mabel was greeted with, “hello, beautiful”, “hi, sweetie” and “she’s perfect”, Her brother’s introduction to world started with, “what’s wrong?”, “wait, let me hold him”, and “he’s not moving”. Dipper was rushed out of the room before his mother got a chance to look at him. Stan managed to catch a glimpse of the horrifyingly blue tint on his great nephew’s tiny face. The memory still gave him chills. He remembered how much he wanted to hold Mabel, who began to fuss and cry, obviously missing her brother. He was terrified at the prospect of another incomplete set of twins in their family. After the longest 30 minute of his life, Stan’s great-nephew returned with a bright pink face, wailing with all the power his little lungs could produce. Once the twins were reunited in their mother’s arms, they settled down almost instantly. The doctors told their parents Dipper was significantly lighter in weight than his sister, but both were very strong and healthy. Every so often Stan thinks about Dipper and how much he has impacted his life. His thoughts lead to darker places and he questions if Ford would be here if Dipper wasn’t there to find the third journal. He shook his head as a cold shiver went up his spine.

Stan did his best to distract himself from revisiting the scare that Dipper caused him 16 years ago.

16 years…..17 in August

Stan blinked. The squishy, bright faces that stayed with him that first summer had changed significantly. They stayed in contact all year round and visited every summer since they were 12. But every in-person meeting was always a shock. Dipper was developing the square jaw Stan, both his brothers and nephew shared. He started to regularly wear glasses their second summer with the Stans. Poor kid will grow up looking like Filbrick like the rest of the Pines men. He reminded Stan of Ford at that age.

And Mabel…..

Stan will never get over how much she looks like his mother. It didn’t strike him until Soos and Melody’s wedding and she put her hair in a bun. She’s calmed her hyperactivity down a bit, but not by a lot, she still brightens his day with her wit and creativity. They’ve both matured physically, but not much has changed personality wise and they still acted like big children when they’re around each other. Stan loved them very much, and wished he could see them more often. He wondered what the future held for all of them. Would they still visit town after going to college? Would they move here? Or somewhere else?

He’s had several conversations with them to see how they’re managing the prospect of separating. They’re much better at communicating than he and Ford were and they seem actually excited to have some independence. It made Stan nervous, but he was sure their close relationship wouldn’t suffer.

Wendy chose to be elsewhere for the next few years. She and her friends booked a plane ticket and plan to backpack and hitchhike around Europe and the UK. Stan hopes they stay safe and watch out for each other. Lotta weirdos in Amsterdam. She was set to leave in the coming days, Wendy wanted to wait until today arrived so she could meet Soos and Melody’s kid before going away for who knows how long.

A tap on the shoulder woke Stan from his deep thoughts. His brother arrived with some warm sub sandwiches and coffee.

“Any word yet?, he asked Stan

“Nothin’ yet”, Stan felt helpless not having any clue how Soos and Melody were doing.

Stanford took his seat next to Stanley and they both silently enjoyed their late breakfast. Since arriving they’ve witnessed families reuniting and going past the door in the far corner to meet their children, grandchildren or siblings. Stan looked at the clock again. How has it only been another 5 minutes? He sighed, leaned back and finished the rest of his sub. One hand holding the sandwich, the other went back to gripping the arm rest, then a six fingered hand went down to rest on top of it. Stan let go of the armrest and tangled his fingers between Ford’s and held onto it with a, hopefully not too tight, grip. It was like an anchor to reality, much better at easing his anxieties than any words could. Over the past 4 years, Stan and Ford’s bond grew stronger. Stan still feared one day he would wake up and find himself still in that basement surrounded by broken machinery and languages he didn’t understand. He hasn’t yet, and was enjoying the time he had left with his twin. Stan took a moment to look at his brother again, Ford made eye contact and smiled then continued to read his book. Hands still intertwined

Stans thoughts went back to Soos…

It amazed Stan how much he had grown and it still baffled him that Soos idolized him as much as he does. Before Soos, Stan had no one. His brother was….gone, the rest of the family didn’t talk to him much outside of the holidays and special occasion. There hadn’t been any sense of consistency in Stan’s life for years, decades even, until he hired the chubby little kid he barely glanced at one random Saturday. Soos always arrived to work early, sometimes with breakfast for both of them. Stan didn’t know how much he needed a reliable companion until he had it and he enjoyed the 10 years he had with that kid… or man he should say. Here he was…a few rooms away, becoming a father.

Stan used to daydream a lot about the prospect of having kids when he was younger. He’s was always good with them when he had the chance to babysit his nephew, then later Dipper and Mabel when they were toddlers. He loved having kids in his house that first summer. He loved the energy and the sense of adventure the twins brought. They gave him a sense of purpose and belonging he hadn’t felt in years. He wished he was brave enough to have his own children. Not that he was ever with anyone long enough to want to have kids with him. He supposed it was for the best that he didn’t subject a child to homelessness or an unhappy marriage. He was also terrified at the idea. His dad used to say having kids ruined his life. He wondered who his father was before his older brother was born. Did they really ruin his life? Stan often wondered if he would be like his own dad if he has children of his own. Would he change and become that annoyed parent that resenting his children?

He thought about Soos again

That was probably the closest to parenthood he ever experienced. The first time he felt like one was when Soos asked him for homework help after closing. He initially told Soos no, he wasn’t exactly smart and didn’t think he would be any help. It apparently upset the kid, so Stan sighed and gave it a try. It was fairly simple middle school math, he didn’t remember everything, but helped Soos do more than half of it. Soos thanked him and went home happy. Stan felt weirdly proud, he was glad he made a small difference and managed to teach Soos something he didn’t even know he knew.

The second time was when Soos was a teenager. His grandmother wasn’t able to teach Soos to drive, since she had forgotten how and her late husband used to do the driving, she mostly walked everywhere. Soos offered to work for free so Stan could teach him. Stan loved driving and found teaching Soos cathartic. He was a fast and eager learner, he only bumped Stan’s car once while trying to figure out parallel parking. Little did Soos know that he was getting paid for his normal work hours. Stan just put it away long enough to help buy the kid some old used truck in the junkyard for getting his license. They fixed the truck up and in only a few weeks it was ready to be on the road. Soos has taken good care of it and it’s still his ride to this day

Stan was very proud of Soos. He taught the kid some basic self defense and managed to be a decent influence in his life. Soos at least has his priorities straight.

Stan was even glad to see that Soos was willing to question him. When the portal was reaching the final countdown, he didn’t hesitate to protect the kids from him when he thought Stan was dangerous. He didn’t know, none of them did, so he didn’t blame Soos for distrusting him. He hoped he never had to betray him again. They both had crappy dads, and Stan knew how Soos saw him. Stan was never really sure if he reciprocated those feelings. It felt natural to act the part, but to put a label as important as “dad” on Stan was daunting. Soos definitely deserves better than what he was given, Stan wasn’t sure if he was it.

Stan looked up at the familiar voices running towards him from the double doors.

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!” Mabel waved to them

The two teenagers and Wendy walked in holding a balloon and various toys. They took some seats across from the Stans and asked how everyone was doing and if the baby arrived yet.

“Not yet, hopefully soon” Ford answered

Stan relaxed and silently enjoyed his family’s company. He laid his head back and leaned slightly on Ford to rest for a minute. His eyes shut as he listened to the kids joke around and talk amongst themselves. He squeezed Ford’s hand one more time before drifting off.

He knew he should’ve tried sleeping earlier, he wasn’t out for more than 15 minutes when Soos came into the waiting room. Stan’s eyes shot open and he was on his feet faster than he did when he was being chased by angry costumers as a door to door salesman. Soos’ red eyes sagged and he seemed exhausted, but carried a proud, wide smile across his face. He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

“It’s a boy”, he squeaked, “mom and baby are okay”

Dipper and Mabel were first to start the hugs, and the room filled with cheers of congratulations and love. Stan felt light as a feather giving Soos a hug and joking about child labor.

“Can we see him?”, Mabel bounced with anticipation

“Yeah, dudes!”, Soos gestured everyone past the corner door and into the suite. “But only for a little while, Melody has to sleep”

The room was small, dimly lit and warm. The Pines crew collectively lowered their voices as Melody came into view on the bedding holding a bundle of blankets decorated with small yellow ducklings. She was leaned back on a large pillow, covered in blankets and toted a soft smile on her face. Soos stroked her hair and picked up his little son to show to the Pines’. The younger twins got a look at him first,

Mabel squealed and cooed at the tiny infant. Then Wendy, who said hi to the baby and told Soos she’d make sure to send him gifts while she was away

“What’s his name?”, Mabel asked Melody

“I named him after my dad”, Melody replied, “Jacob”. She smiled sadly at the memory of the father she lost the year before.

Soos approached the Stans, Ford smiled and complimented the couple on a having such beautiful little boy, but shot Soos a look, who silently replied with another one. Something was up.

Finally Stan got a look at baby Jacob. “Wow” Stan smiled, patting Soos’ arm. “He looks exactly like you”

Soos laughed, “really? I think he looks like Melody”, there was a short silence before Soos spoke up again.

“Do you want to hold him, Mr Pines?”

Stan looked at Soos and smiled, “heh, sure”. He held his arms out. Soos lowered his arms to pass the baby to Stan, who scrunched his face up and started to fuss. Stan took the infant and managed to hold him with one arm. He bounced and shushed little Jacob until he calmed down. “Heya kid”, He’s held babies dozens of times, but something felt different about this one. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Stan felt an almost magnetic pull towards him. Jacob settled comfortably against Stan and continued his rest. Stan softly beamed at the tiny person in his arms.

“Hey, Stan?”

Stan lifted an eyebrow and looked at Soos, who was fidgeting with his hands and nervously smiling.

“Uh..”, he paused, taking in the sight of Stan holding his child. “You know about my dad”, Soos looked at Ford again, who shrugged and nodded. Stan studied Ford’s face, who’s eyes strayed away as he hid a small smile. Soos got his attention again.

“You uh…he wasn’t…”, Soos choked up, his voice strained a bit, “I met you when I was probably the loneliest I ever was in my entire life”. Stan pictured the little boy he hired on the spot, he didn’t remember him until Soos showed up at his door step the next day ready to work. He didn’t know how much that quick, thoughtless decision would change his life.

Soos perked up and walked across the room to a table and picked up the piece of paper sitting on it. Soos glanced at it, then at Stan and smiled, gaining some emotional strength it seemed.

“You mean a lot me”, Soos, “you were there when I really needed it, you gave me a job, taught me just about everything I know. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that”

Stan got a bit nervous, Was this him asking to be the godfather?Everyone was silent and curiously watching. Soos held his hand out and handed the paper to Stan. He adjusted his arm to properly hold Jacob in his arm and took it. Stan flipped the page and noticed it was the baby’s birth certificate. Stan eyes bounced off the page and read the various information: birthdate, weight, parents, but he froze when he read the full name. Stan’s wide eyes questioningly studied Soos’ face.

“Are you…”, Stan felt his own throat tightening, crap. Come on, not in front of everyone “really?”, he asked. Soos gave a genuine nod and sniffed.

“I uh” Soos cleared his throat, “I was wondering, since Jacob doesn’t have one…if you wanted to be…. his grandpa?

There it was

Stan felt dizzy and took a small step back before remembering who was in his hands and regained his balance. Ford came to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Stan decide not to look at his brother and chose to stare forward, then his eyes went back to Soos, who look deflated. Oh man. Stan was terrified, he didn’t want to say no and hurt Soos, but if he said yes….he wasn’t sure what made him so nervous. The entire concept sounded so alien to him, like he didn’t deserve the title. He always considered Soos, Melody and their son a part of his family. But to bare a title like “grandpa”, had to mean he had children that that children. That he was already a parent without his knowledge. It all felt so natural to want to lean into this and become part of this family like Soos wanted.

He heard something make a noise from beneath himself. Stan looked down at little Jacob, who was mid yawn. The baby’s mouth grew wide opens and inhaled, scrunching up his face and suddenly shut. Suddenly two tiny eyes opened for just a few seconds, enough time for Stan to make eye contact before Jacob shut them and got comfortable again

Everything was different now.

Stan didn’t notice how quiet the room had gotten nor the tears forming in his eyes. Stunned by beauty and overcome with pride and a sense of purpose. The pride he felt teaching Soos math, how to drive and attending his graduation all combined just looking at the perfect being in his arms. If he said yes, he would want everything that came with it. Stan lifted the birth certificate up to read the name again.

Jacob Stanley Ramirez

“Y-Yes”, he heard a shaken voice say, almost not realizing it was his own “of course”. He looked at Soos, tears in his eyes and a bright smile on his face. He still wasn’t sure if he deserved this, but Stan wanted it. He wanted it all. Why not indulge just this once? He gave the certificate to Ford and used his now free hand to pull Soos into a hug. Gently sandwiching his…..grandson in between him……and his son.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fan fiction #stanley pines #stanford pines #soos ramirez #melody #mabel pines #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #pop pop au #poppop!stan #dad!soos #dad!stan

117 notes · View notes

vogueinnie · 3 years

Text

✍︎︎ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐖 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍

━ WARNINGS ; fem!reader, age gap (reader is 20 and seungmin is 27), mention of cigarettes, smut (focused on the reader’s pleasure), oral (f.), everything is just fluffy and awkward, kinda love at first sight ━ WORD COUNT ; 2.2k ━ NOTE ; feedback are so welcomed!!

“At your brother’s work ?!” You clear your throat and apologize for being loud, giving Yeji, your bestfriend, a death glare.

You were supposed to go at her house but, as clumsy as she is, she forgots the keys… in the house. You had two options ; go back to your own, which means procrastinating and giving zero fucks about your homeworks, or go to her brother’s work to take back the keys.

“Hum, yeah… But, there’s a little something… He needs his keys to close the shop, so… we have to work there…” Second death glare. “But you know him, he don’t give a fuck as long as we’re not noisy ! And his co-worker is cool too, I promise.”

You were friend with Yeji since you were a child. Of course you knew her old brother, Hyunjin was such a nice guy. He may seems cold on the outside but he has the warmest personality and had always made you feel like his own little sister even tho you haven’t seen him in a while, due to school.

You sighed at Yeji’s puppy eyes, nodding, knowing that you’ve already lost the battle. She was the best negociator.

That’s how you ended up in front of one of the most famous tattoo shop in your city. Indeed, Hyunjin was the owner of it with his long-time friend. They both were tattoo artists since more or less 2 years. According to Yeji, he was drawing before learning how to talk so it seems pretty logical for him to work in something artistic.

Without knowing why you felt a little bit uneasy, asking the blonde girl if she’s totally sure that it won’t bother Hyunjin and his friend to have you there. You were just students and for adults aged 27-28 years it could be annoying to hear you talk about your lessons. But she was quick to reassure you, even showing you her texts with her brother through her phone.

“Hyunjin ! We’re here !”

As soon as you entered the shop Yeji screamed at his brother and you clap your hand to her forehead.

“Shush ! What if he’s wor- “

“Hello to the prettiest girl heeeeere. No, Yeji, I’m not talking about you, you ugly rat.”

Your smile was immediate after the blond-haired and obviously tattooed boy puts you into a warm hug, patting your head while poking his tongue to his young sister, like the very 28 years old matured adult he is. He had no customers at the moment, and he was just working on some new design, but you can still hear some little machine noises so you guess his friend was tattoing someone in the practice room.

“It’s been a really long time Y/N, how are you ? C’mon, have a sit. Y’all need to work on your classes ? You can sit there, I’m just here, he shows you the sofa right beside the table with his index, if you need anything. You’re at home, here. Seungmin will be over in maybe fourteen minutes so you have time to work.”

You both nod in unision, sitting on the chairs to starts working on an unfinished cases while Hyunjin was giving you two glasses of water to finally go back to focus on his drawings. Yeji and you were sharing ideas, writing and making some researches on your respective laptops. No breaks were allowed unless you’ve finished what you’ve started.

“Maybe we should add the fact that... Hey, Seungmin !” Yeji’s smile was wide and she greets someone behind you, shaking her hands.

Politely, you turn around to face the one you’re supposed to be Hyunjin’s co-worker, Seungmin. You hold back your jaw from dropping on the ground the moment your eyes met his.

He was, honestly, the most beautiful human being you have ever seen. His dark purple hair where falling onto his forehead in a delicate way, covering half of his dark brown and absolutely magnetic eyes. His pretty nose was pierced with a silver ring and his lips were as pink as your burning cheeks. His broad shoulders were hidden in a large black t-shirt and at this right moment your eyes were glued to his inked forearms. Of course you’ve already seen inked people, Hyunjin was one of them, but him…There was something special about him.

“Hello ? Is anybody here ? Youhou, are you alive ?” You heard Hyunjin while he was moving his hands in front of Seungmin’s eyes causing you to cut the contact between the two of us.

Apparently, he was gazing in your eyes too.

“Yeah… yeah, sorry I was just thinking about... you know... stuffs. Hey, Yeji, you good?“ Even his voice was soft and smooth, almost honey-like. He comes closer to the desk you were working on so you immediately stand up, bowing down respectfully and you realized how taller he was compared to you. “Who are you ?”

You frowned your eyebrows, almost agape by his suddenly cold voice and distant attitude. Your eyes can’t no longer detach from each other, and you open slowly your mouth. Everything about him was fascinating, from his lack of expression to the way he was nervously playing with his fingers. Well, you supposed it was nervosity.

“I... I’m Y/N. I’m Yeji’s friend, I’m sorry if we’ve disturb you.”

He hums and nods, leaning over you to take his cigarettes pack and you gulp silently at your sudden proximity. His strong and wooded scent was all around you, making you melt. You had the perfect view on the two black eyes drawn on his throat and you almost felt judged by them from acting like a teenager. It felt like they were staring into your soul, knowing your deepest secrets.

But the most humiliating part was probably the Hwang’s suggestive look on you.

—————————————✰ —————————————

You were so stupid. Nobody could be dumber than you. You were at the highest rank of stupidity. Idiot was your second name.

You sigh, dry throat and shaking hands. You were at the front door of Hyunjin and Seungmin’s tattoo shop. Alone. Indeed, yesterday your brain wasn’t working like usual, thanks to one particular man, and you forgot your phone there. Yes, your phone. You were that distracted. It was 2pm and Yeji couldn’t come with you cause she had classes, but you didn’t. And you really needed your phone after almost a day without it.

You came into the shop, looking all around you to realize that Hyunjin wasn’t here. Seungmin was staring at you from across the room, coming closer to you with your treasure in his hand, and you had forget for a moment how much his inked hands looks like. You stare at the pretty heart drawn on his thumb, the long black line on his major digit and the word “ LOVE “ on his wrist. You were so focused that you almost forgot about your phone.

“You like them ?” You jump at his slow voice and you can feel your cheeks burning instantly. Were you really that dumb to fix your eyes on his hands ? “You can touch them, if you want.”

He puts your phone on the table near you, holding out his two hands in front of you. It was almost sureal. Two adults, standing in front of each other awkardly. You can’t hide the excited smile to grows on your lips and with softness you touch his tattoos with the tip of your index finger, retracing them as if it was a pen. You were surprised by the softness of his pretty skin.

“They are so pretty... You points at a cute little smiley on his other hand. This one is my favorite ! You hear him chuckles, looking at you with such fondly eyes you were so destabilized. You back off him when you realize the situation, biting your lips. I’m sorry... I... I was just... I mean, you know, my phone...”

“You can stay. He said quickly. Hyunjin isn’t here and I have no appointment. I’ve heard you were working on some juridic cases yesterday and I... Well, I have a master in law, so I was wondering maybe I can help you ?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, first cause he was offering you to stay with him, alone, and second cause he has done the same studies as you, something you wouldn't have thought of.

The both of you were then sitting in the sofa, casually talking as if you knew each other since forever. You’ve discovered that he didn’t wants to be a lawyer but his parents had always put some pressure on him to have what they liked to call a good job. And it wasn’t his way of thinking, he wanted to feel free, to love his job and not to feel any pressure from anyone. He was so kind to you, making you more feel comfortable than yesterday. Shy, sweet, talkative and curious about anything you’re saying. A 28 years old man, mature, understanding and independant.

Needless to say that you didn’t talk about your school lessons, but just about the two of you. Also needless to say that you were fascinated. There was just something about his eyes scanning you everytime you were talking, and it felt so good to be the center of his attention. Your conversations were so fluids, you couldn’t hold back yourself to talk and to look at his beautiful features.

“Mind if I draw on you?” He cuts you off when you were talking, grabbing his colorful pens that was near him. He looks at you with his still hypnotic dark eyes and you nod your head with a shy smile. He kneels down infront of you on the ground as you were still sitting on the sofa. You internally thank the beautiful days for allowing you to put on a skirt. “Can I draw on your thighs? I mean, I have a big idea! But I want you to discover it, but if it makes you uncomfortable I-”

“No, no! It’s ok! You can, of course, do it Seungmin. I trust you.”

He smiles timidly, probably knowing that he got a little carried away. He was so passionnate about art that you couldn’t refrein him to do what he has to.

Seungmin then starts drawing on one of your legs, starting from your ankle to your knee. He draws pretty colorful flowers on your skin, it was so soft and beautiful you can’t stop staring at his work on you. He quickly reaches the level of your thigh and he was so close to you that you felt his hot breath against your shivering skin. You felt you mind dizzy for a moment, as his lips were also close to you. Unconsciously you tighten your legs between them, which makes him raise his face to look at you. His pupils were now totally black and this view of him between your legs was all you needed to lose your mind.

You softly grab his hair, making him smirk and immediatly starts to kiss your two thighs. He was so soft, taking his time to discover all of your sensitive spots. And you ? You were already lost, spreading your legs slowly so he can be placed correctly between them. Your inner thighs was his target, he sucks your flesh and you whines at the feeling.

“Please...” You see him smile, licking everywhere but your heat spot. Even your pubic area was drowned in sweet kisses. “Please, I... Do something I can’t...”

Seungmin hums, gripping your legs so they can rest against his shoulders. He lifts your skirt up, moving your pantie on the side and take his time to look at your intimate parts with hungry eyes. You clear your throat, embarassed that he looks at you like that and he gives your clit a kiss.

“So fucking pretty... Fuck, Y/N you’re so pretty, look at that pretty flower...” You chuckles at the surname he gaves to your womanhood.

He doesn’t waste any more time and starts kissing your wet folds at a slow pace, taking his time to taste your wetness. His tongue was heaven like against you, he was so precise and slow, you couldn’t contain your moans escaping your mouth. His plump lips surround your bud, sucking on it and circling his wet muscle all around your swollen one.

Your legs tighten against his head as you feel the heat waves crashing against your lower abdom like a delicious torment.

Two of his fingers join his tongue and he finally insert them in your clenching wetness. Your eyes rolls back the moment you feel yourself kinda full, but you lost it the moment he curls his fingers inside of you to stroke your sweetest no-return point.

You moan his name, biting your lips, moving your hips against his magical mouth as he helps you rode your orgasm, pumping his two fingers in you while licking tirelessly your folds and clit the fastest as he can.

Your breath was cut, and you can feel him gives butterflies kisses on you, replacing correctly your clothes on you. He stands up, cleaning his own fingers by licking them which make you blush at the view. He strokes your messy hair, kissing your forehead with a reassuring smile.

“I think I’ve found my muse.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #seungmin smut #seungmin scenarios

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detectivejigsawpines · 3 years

Text

Just a Normal Day

A short drabble about sea grunks having an average adventure, written in honor of their birthday.

Even before they got attacked by the Cthulhu beast, it had been a pretty average morning on the sea for the Pines twins.

Wake up at the crack of dawn (Ford) or closer to late morning (Stan); eat breakfast; reset the spell to ward off the vengeful leprechauns who might still be after them for stealing their treasure in case they’d figured out they were chasing a decoy trail by now; do a little late morning fishing, while keeping an eye out for that golden fish Stan was sure he’d seen swimming under their boat last week, and which he was hoping laid golden fish eggs or something; finally notice what time it was (Stan) and head inside to make lunch.

Just another normal day.

Stan was examining their supplies, trying to decide if it was worth breaking out some of the canned hamburger meat and throwing together sloppy Joes instead of making them eat fish again, when he was knocked skiwampus by the boat being yanked to a halt; as he struggled to regain his balance by grabbing onto the table, a vicious, blood-curdling roar came rumbling through the air from outside.

Stan sighed, and wondered if the kraken was back. In one swift motion he grabbed the spare harpoon they had hanging over the door, and stepped out to see if Ford needed help dealing with it.

It wasn’t the kraken.

It still looked like some kinda big octopus monster, though, with a mass of writhing tentacles where its face should be, and a bulbous head in the back just like an octopus body. The rest of it, at least as far as the torso, was kinda like a human’s but a little bigger (about the size of a baby whale), with slimy-looking green-brown skin and a pair of big, wrinkled, wet wings sticking out of its back. Whatever this thing was, it had grabbed onto the back of their boat, and was looming menacingly over Ford as Stan stepped outside.

“...and you are now my prisoners!” he bellowed, as his piercing golden eyes landed on Stan. “Surrender your weapons now, puny mortals, and I might be merciful!!!!”

“Yeesh, did we trespass on his territory or something?” Stan asked, leaning on the harpoon.

Ford shrugged with one shoulder, since he was trying to write in his journal at the same time. “He didn’t really say; he just jumped onboard and started threatening me.”

“Huh.” Stan looked up at the beast. “You the lord of this part of the ocean or whatever?”

The beast blinked-which looked pretty weird, his eyelids went sideways instead of up and down like humans-before nodding vigorously. “Yes! I am the lord of this part of the ocean, and you must surrender to me now, or else suffer my wrath!!!!” He slammed a fist down against the side of the boat, making it rock up and down so hard he had to scrabble to keep his balance. Stan coughed into his fist to hold back a snicker.

Ford tilted his head. “I could have sworn this was still the primary territory of the Manatee-Merfolk Alliance. Are you sure you haven’t made some kind of mistake?”

“What part of prisoners did you not understand?!” the beast demanded, spreading out his wings and shaking them as his tentacles writhed angrily. “Give up your weapons, now-all of them!!!!”

“...You sure you want that? It’s kind of gonna take awhile-”

“NOW, or I crush your boat in my mighty fist!!!!”

Stan glanced at Ford, who rolled his eyes and nodded. With a small sigh, they began disarming themselves.

********

...A minute passed and they were still at it.

Ford’s pile of weapons was almost as tall as he was, mostly consisting of long-range weapons like guns, but with a few vials of poisons and some handcuffs thrown into the mix.

Stan’s pile was more proportionate, but the number of places that weapons were produced from (including a smoke bomb that he’d somehow managed to keep tucked under his beanie) was frighteningly impressive.

The monster watched their progress with increasingly wide eyes; finally, as Stan produced another set of brass knuckles out of a secret pocket sewn onto the inside of his coat, he spluttered, “...Where were you keeping those?”

Stan just grinned shamelessly. “Trust me, sunshine, you don’t wanna know.”

“Okay, I think that’s everything,” Ford said at last, indicating the pile of weaponry.

“Yeah, well, I’m still workin’, gimme a minute.” Stan produced a switchblade, and tossed it onto his pile. Then, in a brief sleight of hand, he snatched another one from the pile and pretended to draw it out of his coat to toss it on next. “Hey, tentacles-face-ya think you could bring us back by Wednesday? We got a Zoom appointment ta keep, and our niece and nephew hate it when we’re late.” Another sleight of hand allowed him to scoop up another weapon.

“That’s not how this-now see here!” The monster drew himself up to his full height, nearly falling backwards off the boat. “You guys-you puny mortals are my prisoners! And as such, you need to understand that this is not a joking matter! I could squash you both like sea slugs if I wished! I’m all-powerful, an eons-old abomination whose very name would send you into madness if spoken aloud! So you better start quaking in fear and begging for mercy like proper captives!!!!”

Stan looked at Ford. “Sounds like we’re his first.” He looked back at the monster. “You’re doin’ great, buddy-good job on the whole threatening schtick.” He offered a thumbs-up, while using the other hand to snag another weapon that he pretended to produce from another hiding spot.

Ford winked at him, and looked back at their ‘captor.’ “Is this some sort of coming-of-age ritual for your species?” He produced his journal again, pen poised. “Very clever move, by the way, threatening our boat to get us to disarm ourselves. In the future, though, I would suggest that you try taking one of us hostage first, in order to create maximum-”

“STOP IT!”

The monster abruptly started pounding his fists against the side of the boat, nearly tipping it over before instead pitching him all the way onto the deck. “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO-I’M YOUR-IT’S NOT FAIR-!”

It took Stan a moment to realize that the angry noises leaving his mouth (?) were accompanied by the sound of frustrated sobs.

He hissed through his teeth, and shot Ford a guilty look.

“...Oh boy. Looks like we got a little one here.”

********

Stan crossed the boat and crouched down in front of the weeping monster, putting a hand on his back and rubbing the spot right between his wings.

“Deep breaths, in and out. You’re not gonna get anything done like this, so just take a bit ta calm down, okay?”

The monster hiccuped and coughed, shrinking in on himself in a way that was painfully familiar to both of them.

Ford knelt down at his other side. “Maybe if you tell us why this is so important to you, we can provide some assistance?”

The monster shook his head and buried his head in his arms. “I just wanted-hic-to show my friends I could catch the Pines twins all by myself,” he croaked.

The two old men looked at each other in a mixture of surprise and slight alarm. “...You know who we are?”

That was finally enough to get him to sit up, wiping his eyes with his tentacles. “You kidding? Every creature of the seas knows who you are! You’re the guys who beat up krakens and steal gold from leprechauns and then you and your boat vanish without a trace! You’re the coolest cryptids ever!”

It took both of them a moment to digest that. By the time they did, though, they were grinning in equal delight.

“We’re cryptids?!” Ford asked, eyes practically brimming over with overjoyed tears.

“Yeah! And people at school were sayin’ you’re just a myth, but I knew you were real cuz my uncle saw your ship up in the Arctic last winter, and I was gonna capture you and bring you to class to show everyone how wrong they were and then I’d be famous and they’d stop calling me a weird runt all the time!” After a second his wings drooped, and he stared miserably down at the deck. “...Guess it was pretty dumb of me to think I could catch you all by myself.”

Stan put a hand on his shoulder. “...Kid...as much as we wanna help, we can’t just be your prisoners. We got our own lives ta get back to.”

“Plus, neither of us is able to breathe underwater,” Ford added.

The monster sighed, and pulled a strip of kelp from around his neck, turning one of the leaves until it was facing him. He squirted a stream of black ink from one of his tentacles, and dipped the tip of another one into the ink and used it to trace something that looked like a bunch of gobbledygook to Stan onto the leaf. “Humans...don’t...breathe...underwater.”

Awww...he’s a super nerd, just like Ford and Dipper!

That gave Stan an idea.

“Hey.” He nudged the monster. “What about a picture of us instead? Along with genuine proof of a close encounter?”

The monster’s head jerked up. “A picture?! Like with one of those weird magic boxes you humans carry around sometimes?!”

“That’s the one.” Stan grinned. He looked at Ford and jerked his head towards the cabin; his brother took the hint and headed for it, returning with an antique Polaroid camera that Ford had been experimenting on, but still took good pictures.

The monster’s tentacles began writhing around his face like they’d come to life, and he let out a high-pitched squeal of excitement.

“This is the greatest day of my life!!!!”

********

It took a bit of staging and directing and trying out different angles, but eventually they produced a set of photos that appeared to be of an eldritch abomination in training being attacked by, and bravely fighting off, the ferocious monster hunter Pines twins (hopefully nobody would think to ask how and why the monster had managed to get these pictures taken).

Then, while Stan took them into the cabin and soaked them in a special substance Ford had invented that would render them waterproof, Ford sat on the prow next to the young cryptid enthusiast and offered tips on future hunting adventures, comparing notes with him on some of the creatures they’d both seen. He also (with permission) took a few samples from the monster, including a long strip of skin (“Make it look like a wound I got in the fight! Man, this is gonna be so cool, Yog-Sothoth is gonna eat his heart out! Possibly literally!”) and some of the ink from his tentacles.

When Stan came back with the photos, he also handed over one of his spare brass knuckles that had lost a corner. “Have another souvenir, kid.”

The monster’s tentacles lashed out and wrapped around their faces in what felt like a really weird version of a hug before pulling away, leaving them covered in some of the slimy stuff they were coated in.

“Thank you so much! I really really hope the leprechauns don’t catch you-if they come this way I’ll make sure to eat some of them so they won’t!” He waved at them joyfully as he dived back into the ocean and disappeared.

********

After a moment Stan wiped his face on his coat sleeve.

“...Well, that happened.”

He turned away and began gathering up his weapons.

“Such a strange mixture of childlike innocence and barbarity,” Ford mused as he pulled out a jar and gathered the slime into it for yet another sample. “His culture must be fascinating-I almost wish he would have taken us with him so I could have seen it.”

“You would’ve drowned before you could gather any data.”

“...You don’t know that.”

“He literally didn’t know that humans can’t breathe underwater, Sixer. Not gonna happen.”

He ignored Ford’s sulking and kept cleaning, while musing to himself over the possible monetary opportunities being a couple of cryptids could bring...

#gravity falls #sea grunks #stan pines #ford pines #cthulhu doesn't stand a chance #stan just adopting everyone #humor #and fluff (sort of)#drabble ish

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livesincerely · 3 years

Text

dress you up, dress you down ch. 3 - business casual

aka the Tie Fic. Chapter two here.

Also on Ao3

00000

“Wait, wait, go back,” Katherine says, barely holding back a laugh. “Jack keeps doing what?”

“So, he’ll start getting ready, right?” Davey explains, gesturing with his free hand. “And then, right in the middle, he’ll get distracted or start telling a story or ask me a question, and end up just standing there for ages with his pants half buttoned or his shirt hanging open, like it’s totally fine, no big deal.”

Davey glances left and right to make sure the road is clear, then continues on, Katherine’s hand tucked companionably in the crook of his arm as they walk along.

“It’s driving me crazy, Kath, I am this close to losing my mind,” Davey says, thoroughly caught up in getting this all off his chest. “It’s a miracle I’ve gotten through these last few weeks without throwing myself off the fire escape; no one should be expected to withstand the full force of Jack Kelly first thing in the morning, it’s too much to ask of any one person. And I can’t even just try to avoid looking at him, because if Jack notices he always starts asking me if I’m okay or if anything’s wrong and I can’t say, ‘oh, no, Jack, I’m fine, it’s just that you’re too pretty for this mortal plane and I’m kind of struggling to exist in your presence’ because obviously, so then I have to make something up—“

“You aren’t a good liar,” Katherine comments.

“—And I’m not a good liar!” Davey exclaims. “And I’m definitely not a good liar when Jack is looking at me with his stupid, soft brown, puppy dog eyes and his dumb, messy, adorable hair, or when he says ‘Dave’ in that voice and I just— I cannot express enough how difficult it is to convince Jack that there’s nothing wrong with me when I can barely look him in the face.”

Katherine doesn’t even attempt to stifle her next snort of laughter, the sound bursting out of her.

“It’s not funny, Katherine!” Davey says. “I had to start using Les as a human shield just to get through the morning!”

“No, it’s pretty funny,” Katherine disagrees, shoulders shaking.

Davey huffs out a breath.

“I don’t feel like you’re appreciating the gravity of the situation,” he grumbles.

“Oh, boo hoo, a pretty boy likes to stand around your bedroom half naked, giving you plenty of opportunity to ogle at him uninterrupted,” Katherine says, rolling her eyes at him. “What an incredible hardship you’re facing.”

Davey flushes.

“...I don’t ogle at him,” he mutters.

Katherine raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t!” Davey insists. “I can barely keep from embarrassing myself when I’m doing my best not to look at him—I’d have spontaneously combusted by now, otherwise.”

“Uh huh,” Katherine hums, pinning him with a knowing look. “Right.”

“This is your fault, you know,” Davey continues quickly before Katherine can press any further. “I was perfectly content with my life as it was, but no, you wanted him to have nice work clothes and now I’m the one that has to deal with how painfully good Jack looks in a tie on a regular basis.”

“He’s actually wearing it?” Katherine says, surprised. “Given the stink he put up while we were picking it out, I figured we’d hardly ever see him in it unless one of us made him wear it.”

“Well, I wish I could make him stop wearing it,” Davey grouses. “I swear he does it just to torture me—the damn thing is practically haunting my dreams at this point. I’m pretty sure I could fix him up with one hand behind my back, he wears it so often.”

“Wait,” Katherine starts slowly, her expression caught somewhere between judgement and glee. “Have you been.... tying Jack’s tie for him?”

“He doesn’t know how!” Davey protests, face flushing a touch deeper. “He doesn’t know how and I haven’t had time to teach him yet, so I always have to— Stop laughing!” Davey sputters, swatting at Katherine’s shoulder when she devolves into a flurry of giggles. “It’s nothing, it’s not a big deal.”

He decides not to mention the fact that, whenever he goes to fix Jack’s tie, he swears he can feel the weight of Jack’s gaze like a physical presence—almost thrilling in its intimacy, like the warmth of a hand on his cheek or the feeling of fingers carding gently through his hair—except that whenever he works up the nerve to check, Jack’s always looking somewhere else, casual as can be.

How he can’t tell if it’s actually happening or if it’s a figment of his imagination, the sparking tension that seems to flash and flare between them, how he has no idea what he’d do if he actually caught Jack’s gaze in these moments, but that just wondering about it sends his heart beating a few paces faster.

Even if he wanted to try to explain it, he’s not sure if he could put it all into words.

Thankfully, Katherine doesn’t seem to have picked up on his sudden bout of introspection; she nudges Davey playfully in the ribs.

“Sure it isn’t,” she says, clearly delighting in his embarrassment. “Please, tell me more about how you and Jack have built an entire morning routine together—“

“Oh, look, we’re here,” Davey hurriedly interrupts.

The doors to The World stand as tall and imposing as ever, though the effect is softened somewhat by the flood of workers rushing out of them, heading out into the city for their lunch break.

Davey and Katherine linger on the sidewalk, waiting for Jack to come out and meet them, but he never appears.

“He should be here by now, shouldn’t he?” Davey asks, after a few minutes pass by with no sign of Jack.

“Lunch started ten minutes ago,” Katherine confirms. “If he doesn’t hurry, he’s not going to have time to eat.”

“He probably got caught up in one of his art inspirations,” Davey says with a shrug. “I bet he didn’t even notice the bell ringing.”

“Then let’s go fetch him, shall we?” Katherine says, stepping confidently into the building, tugging Davey along behind her.

Davey’s been to The World several times by now, but he still isn’t all that comfortable being inside the building, always feeling distinctly out of place. Katherine, of course, walks right in like she owns the place, which she sort of does, leading the way through the lobby and up the main staircase until they reach the floor for the Art Department.

They find Jack right where they thought he would be, seated at his desk with a pen in hand, deeply engrossed in his latest series of sketches and totally unaware of the world around him... including the small gaggle of his coworkers standing just off to the side, whispering and giggling amongst themselves as they watch him work.

A small part of Davey’s brain can’t blame them for staring: Jack makes for quite the sight in his dark slacks and matching vest, a crisp white button up tucked underneath. He’s become a bit disheveled in the hours since Davey last saw him—his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie loosened slightly, exposing the line of his forearms and a hint of skin at his collar—and he wears it incredibly well, looking far more handsome than he has any right to after half a day’s work.

The rest of his brain, however, stands at attention—a fierce, heated sort of irritation prickling just under his skin. Davey feels himself slow to an uneasy stop, a frown pulling at his features.

He happens to catch the eye of one of them: a young woman who appears to be about his age, with blue eyes and dark, curly hair, stepping out of the crowd as if about to approach Jack at his desk. Davey’s not sure what his expression does in this moment, but when their gazes meet she freezes, her cheeks flushing a touch pink as she ducks her head, and she quickly returns to the safety of the crowd.

“Typical Jack,” Katherine says with a soft shake of her head. She doesn’t seem to have noticed the flock of admirers waiting in the wings. “Okay, let’s grab him and get out of here—“

“I’ve got it,” Davey says abruptly, stepping forward.

Jack doesn’t acknowledge his approach, utterly focused on adding a few precise bits of shading to the cartoon he’s hunched over. His fingers are dotted with ink stains, his hair a little ruffled from where he’s been running his hands through it, and Davey feels himself soften at the sight of him, that sharp edge of annoyance fading as quickly as it appeared.

Mindful of not startling Jack while he has a pen in his hand, Davey carefully calls out, “Jackie?”

Jack glances up, distracted, and then does a double take, his expression quickly turning sheepish.

“Aw, hell, is it lunch already?” Jack asks, setting his pen down.

“At the same time as always,” Davey confirms, leaning against the corner of Jack’s desk. “Figures you’d get so caught up in a project that you ignore your stomach.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack says with a grin, pushing his chair back. “I know, don’t start.”

He stands up and stretches—full bodied, with both arms over his head—giving Davey a long, generous look at just how well everything he’s wearing is tailored to him.

“Where’s Kath?” Jack says, oblivious to the way Davey’s eyes are riveted to the subtle flex of his shoulders and chest as he shakes the stiffness out of his hands. “Is she meetin’ us there or...?”

“No, we walked here together,” Davey says, clearing his throat. “We’re just waiting on you, Jackie, love.”

The endearment slips past his lips of its own accord, far too affectionate and far too honest.

Jack stills, blinking at him in open surprise, clearly catching his mistake. Then his expression shifts, a bright flicker of warmth lighting up his face.

“So, let’s get a move on,” Jack says with a soft smile, blessedly allowing the moment to pass without comment; Davey lets out the breath he’d been holding, relieved. “At this rate, I’m not gonna have any time to eat.”

“And whose fault is that, hmm?” Davey says, trying for something casual, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. “What, you didn’t notice everyone else leaving all of the sudden?”

“Shuddup,” Jack says. “You know I don’t mean’ta get distracted. An’, hey, everybody ain’t left yet.”

Jack gestures to where a few of his coworkers are still standing, who try to seem as though they haven’t been watching when they realize Jack is looking at them. Davey’s earlier frown returns with a vengeance.

“See, it ain’t just me,” Jack says.

“I thought we were getting a move on,” Davey says lightly, hooking two fingers under the front of Jack’s vest and tugging slightly to get his attention. Jack’s eyes snap back to his with a speed Davey can only describe as gratifying. “Lunch isn’t going to buy itself.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack murmurs, allowing himself to be steered back towards the staircase. “Where’re we goin’?”

“It’s Kath’s turn to pick,” Davey says.

“So uptown, somewhere weird and expensive that she won’t let us help pay for,” Jack surmises.

“She promised not to pick anything too strange anymore after last time,” Davey offers, though he’s a bit apprehensive himself. “It won’t be that bad... probably.”

Jack snorts. “It’s the probably that I’m worried about.”

“Buck up, Jackie,” Davey says, curling his hand around Jack’s forearm. “If I have to eat it, you have to eat it.”

“Hey, Jack,” Katherine says once they’re close enough, hitting Davey with another knowing look when Jack steps forward to hug her. Davey bites his lip, gaze falling guiltily to the floor. “Ready to go?”

“You mean, am I ready for your latest poisonin’ attempt?” Jack asks. “Sure, if that’s what’cha wanna call it.”

“I was not poisoning you!” Katherine volleys back. “Those were a delicacy⁠—”

“They was disgustin’, that’s what they was,” Jack replies. “So what’s on the table today, O’ Queen of The World? Sautéed rose petals? A single black bean roasted over an open flame? The left claw of the rare Chesapeake lobster?”

“Why do I even bother?” Katherine dramatically laments, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You uncouth swine.”

“You’re the one that dated me.”

“A momentary lapse in judgement, I assure you.”

“Hey!”

As they head back downstairs, Davey can’t help but throw one last parting glance over his shoulder⁠⁠—Jack’s crowd of admirers has mostly dispersed, the various workers going back to their desks to eat or sulk now that there’s no one to gawk at⁠—and surge of satisfaction rushes through him, unbidden, yet undeniable.

“Dave!” Jack calls, he and Katherine having made it most of the way down the staircase in the meantime. “What’re you doin’? C’mon!”

“Sorry,” Davey says, hurrying after them.

“What, there somethin’ interestin’ goin’ on up there?” Jack asks, raising an eyebrow. “Somethin’ caught your eye?”

“No, Jackie” Davey says simply, not quite able to resist a smile. “Nothing at all.”

00000

Chapter four here

Tags!

@yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @corbinthecowboy

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #the tie fic #*final cut #*editor's note #*the writing desk #tease series #jealous Davey is right up there with flustered Davey tbh #listen: i love them

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twstarchives · 4 years

Text

Vil Schoenheit・Voice Lines

Additional Voice Lines: Scary Dress event card

School Uniform - R

Unlock Card “Every single one of you looks miserable. Where should I start disciplining you all?”

Groovy “Classes are still valuable lessons. Let’s try to enjoy them.”

Home Setting “Stop looking so sluggish. You should move with more of a bounce in your step.”

Home Transitions “I am the only one who can express myself. Even these designated uniforms are just tools I use for that.”

“If you’re going to dress yourself in Night Raven College’s uniform, I expect you to behave appropriately.”

“Isn’t that uniform too big on you? It’s unflattering to your figure if it’s not the right size.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “Would you like to run to the store with me? I’d like some fresh fruit, and I could also use someone to carry my bags.”

Home Taps “Oh, no, don’t tell me that’s cat hair on your uniform—oh, wait. It’s Grim’s, is it?”

“You have a question for me? Heheh, I don’t give out my secrets for free.”

“It’s natural to need to work hard so that you make up for what you lack. I have no sympathy for you.”

“You want to know my diet? What are you going to do with it if I told you? You won’t become beautiful just by eating like I do.”

“Enough, stop pulling on me. I don’t remember saying you could mend my clothes for me.”

PE Uniform - R

Unlock Card “I spare no effort if it’s for the sake of beauty.”

Groovy “Are you ready? My regimen is very intense.”

Home Setting “Now, let’s begin our training.”

Home Transitions “You should do everything you can to preserve your beauty. Are you going to come running with me?”

“Hah, I’m worried about getting sunburnt during our outdoors classes... I’ll have to ask Rook to put on my sunscreen for me.”

“Every once in a while, I come across idiots who believe they can win against me if they use their fists. Of course, the tables always turn against them.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “How long are you going to stay here? I’ve already finished my daily workout.”

Home Taps “It’s good to do some stretches right after you’ve taken a bath.”

“Physical strength is an important factor in becoming a great mage. Make sure you work your hardest.”

“Sweating helps you feel refreshed. It isn’t good for your beauty to bottle up stress.”

“It’s important for there to be an agreement between your clothes and your body. You need to be careful not to build muscles for no reason.”

“You should direct any questions you have to Epel instead of me. Flying seems to be that boy’s strong suit.”

Lab Coat - SR

Unlock Card “You want me to teach you about magic potions? Will you even be able to keep up?”

Groovy “I could make any potion you could ever dream of. Hehe, should I tell you my tricks?”

Home Setting “I even pull this lab coat off beautifully.”

Home Transitions “I’m very confident in potions. It's helpful to know so much about herbs when making smoothies as well. It’s up to you to take care of your own body.”

“You want me to help you with your work? I’m impressed with how strong your will to study is. But research on your own first before asking me.”

“Rook is in the science club. In exchange for helping me with the film studies club activities, I lend him a hand from time to time too.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “True beauty is determined by strong intellect. You can always doctor your looks, but your true colors will still shine through right away.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Don’t I smell nice~? This is a perfume I concocted myself. It fits my image, doesn’t it?”

Home Taps “If you want to perfect your skill in pharmaceutics, then you need to have focus more than anything. It’s important to have a strong resolve to bring things to completion.”

“You can’t use magic, right? Then you should at least put all your effort into your studies.”

“I do my own cooking. I prefer to choose the nutrients my body needs.”

“You have wrinkles in your lab coat. Ironing is a must if you want to look polished.”

“Oh, you certainly seem to have a lot of free time. I’m not going to pity you if Crewel scolds you at your next exam.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “The ingredients I pick for my morning smoothies are always based on how I’m feeling health-wise that day. Hm? You want to know my recipes? That would take all day.”

Ceremony Robes - SR

Unlock Card “Being a student of Night Raven College is something you should be very proud of.”

Groovy “Don’t I look just as flawless in these ceremony robes as well?”

Home Setting “Chic clothing fits me well, doesn’t it?”

Home Transitions “Why are you so stiff...? Oh, are you nervous? You haven’t seen anything yet if you’re still getting nervous at school assemblies.”

“You shouldn’t strive to be like me. Try pushing yourself as hard as you can while keeping your experience level in mind.”

“Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. I wouldn’t mind you staring at me so mesmerized for a little longer.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “A mysterious makeup look with a monotone finish goes best with this unique outerwear. If the makeup doesn’t match the outfit, then your clothes are going to outshine you.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “The colors of our ceremony robes blend in nicely with the night. I don’t hate this deep and mysterious style.”

Home Taps “Just when I thought things were getting noisy... it’s you again. You’re always so full of energy. ...Hold on, that wasn’t a compliment.”

“Your figure is important with these ceremony robes. Tying this wide belt around your waist lets one show off an androgynous beauty.”

“You may not have magic, but you can still take care of your appearance, can’t you? It’s not an excuse to look sloppy.”

“At the entrance ceremony, I thought for certain you were going to get thrown out right away... But you seem to be adjusting to this academy.”

“I know you want me to entertain you, but I’m busy right now so can you wait until later?”

Home Tap (Groovy) “I like the ceremony robes. They have an eternal beauty that never goes out of style. You should be proud you get to wear them as well.”

Dorm Uniform - SSR

Unlock Card “Strength is what makes one beautiful. Allow me to present my power to you.”

“I presume you’re prepared to put your life on the line for the sake of beauty, yes?”

Groovy “Is it this uniform that’s captivated you? Or perhaps, is it me? Hehe.”

Home Setting “So? Do I look just like a queen?”

Home Transitions “What will you be off doing today? Would you mind helping with our shoot for the film studies club? I’m sure even you are capable of using the equipment.”

“The dorm leader’s work can be a lot to manage, but there is no person more suited for leading Pomefiore than me.”

“My skin has been on point lately. ...What? You want a closer look? It isn’t my fault if my beauty blinds you.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “The Ramshackle Dorm is just awful. It smells musty and there is dust everywhere. You do know the difference between “vintage” and “run-down,” right?”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Have you met our vice dorm leader yet? I have full trust in his insight. ...There are times his conduct may be odd, but I’m letting it pass as of now.”

Home Taps “The Pomefiore dorm leader’s crown was designed based on motifs the Queen was said to fancy. Take a look—it’s perfect for me, don’t you think?”

“I swear, I always catch Epel staring at me in complete silence... Hehe. He must have so much going through his head.”

“The freshmen this year are nothing but potatoes. None of them know how to improve themselves and it gets so frustrating to deal with.”

“You think I look good in this uniform? That’s only natural. The dorm leader is meant to flaunt it even more beautifully than the other students.”

“Yes, there is no doubt that my beauty would make anyone unconsciously want to reach out and touch it...”

Home Tap (Groovy) “You think I’m stoic? ...It’s true I hear that a lot. I’m simply focusing all my efforts towards my goals. Wouldn’t this be the obvious outcome?”

Duo Magic Vil: “Leona! I don’t need anyone dragging me down.” Leona: “Ha! Who do you think you’re talking to, Vil?”

Birthday Celebration Outfit - SSR

Unlock Card “Now, how are you going to celebrate for me?”

“It seems my birthday will be especially wild this year. Well, it is nice to go over the top every once in a while. Just behave yourself.”

Groovy “It’s completely unexpected that you would bring me so much joy. ...That is a compliment.”

Home Setting “This outfit stands out. Well, I’m used to having attention on me.”

Home Transitions “Leona gave me a pen, and it was out of ink. Was it too much of a chore to throw it out so he handed it off to me? ...It figures.”

“My father sends me postcards on my birthday. He travels all over the world, so every year I look forward to which country the pattern on it will be from.”

“Epel, Rook, and the rest of the film studies club put together an opera for me. It was clumsy, but not too bad.”

Home Transition (Login Greeting) “I’m beautiful as always today? Of course I am. But don’t think that I’m only trying hard because it’s my birthday. My beauty is flawless no matter what day it is.”

Home Transition (Groovy) “Sometimes, the energy you and Grim bring can be useful. Please keep it up and breathe some more life into the party.”

Home Taps “My birthday reminds me of the auroras. When Jack lived in my area, he told me the best spot to see them as a birthday gift.”

“I posted a thank-you picture on Magicam for all my fans who sent me birthday wishes. I need to show appreciation for their support.”

“There exists no magic that can stop you from aging. However, it’s up to you how you grow. I’m just constantly pursuing beauty that matches my age.”

“Lilia gave me shoelaces. They’re flat and seem hard to come untied. I think I’ll start using them right away for my jog tomorrow.”

“I heard your wishes to me the first time. If you want my attention that badly, why don’t you let me do your makeup? I’m curious how much it could transform you.”

Home Tap (Groovy) “Oh? Are you going to give me anything? Then list 100 things you find beautiful about me. Simple enough, right?”

Duo Magic Vil: “None of your schemes on my birthday, Azul.” Azul: “Of course. I wish you the best, Vil.”

Tutorial “Enough of that daydreaming. Let’s hurry up.”

Lv Up “Not bad. Let’s keep this up.”

“I’ve moved up a level higher, hm?”

“Don’t you think I’m someone worth dedicating yourself to?”

Max Lv Up “The fact that I can shine even brighter than I have before is because of your dedication, isn’t it? Heheh. Watch closely. I’ll show you I can be even more beautiful.”

Episode Lv Up “Hah. You’ve turned out nicely yourself. At this point, I’d even let you stand at my side.”

Magic Lv Up “Beautiful flowers are poisonous. But isn’t that just another one of their charms?”

Limit Break “My progress is far from over. I need to shine even brighter, even more beautifully than I do now.”

Groovy “Oh, I’m so sorry. Am I too dazzling for you now?”

Select Lesson “You’re only wasting time worrying. Please hurry up and pick.”

“You won’t rise to the top of this world if you lack intelligence. Study your hardest.”

“Neither our lectures in class nor the skills we learn firsthand must be taken lightly. Let’s put in all our effort.”

Lesson Start “Can you really afford to not pay attention?”

Lesson End “Well, that’s about it.”

Battle Start “Show me all you’ve got.”

Battle Win “This was the obvious result. You and I aren’t on the same level.”

Other

Profile Quote “Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest of them all? Of course it is me, isn’t it?”

January 2020 Trailer “If you want to be beautiful, then you’ve got to do your very best at this academy.”

Countdown Poster “At this moment, who is the fairest of them all? ...Of course, it is me.”

Login Bonus “Neither beauty nor power can be achieved in a single day. It’s crucial that you persevere through everything that comes your way, but that’s the most difficult to do. I wonder how you will fare?”

Player Birthday Wish “It’s your birthday? Oh, dear, I completely forgot. Only joking. Don’t underestimate my memory. Of course I got everything ready. You should feel honored that I’m celebrating for you.”

Magic History

Good ★

“Trends come in and out.”

“You look half-asleep.”

“Competition brings one to the top.”

“What a beautiful dress.”

“This is more self-improvement.”

“The qualities of a king... hm...”

“Please sit up straight.”

“My makeup is still intact this afternoon.”

“Even great figures worked their hardest.”

Great ★★

“Naturally.”

“I enjoy reading.”

“Too easy.”

“Even my handwriting is beautiful.”

Perfect ★★★

“Didn’t lift a finger.”

“Perfect.”

“These are reasonable results.”

“There’s no way I wouldn’t get a perfect score.”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“Oh, do you need something?”

“Please stay focused.”

“Not a problem.”

Flying

Good ★

“This is a nice workout.”

“If my hair’s a mess, my mind’s a mess.”

“Get me a hat, please.”

“Often reapply your sunscreen.”

“Just like a graceful raven.”

“Sound advice.”

“This is my after-meal workout.”

“Sunburns are my worst nightmare.”

“I’ve checked the new arrivals.”

Great ★★

“Staying hydrated.”

“So, what’s next?”

“Flexibility exercises are part of my daily routine.”

Perfect ★★★

“Elegant and graceful.”

“Beautiful? I know.”

“Just keep trying until you can do it.”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“You’d like to see an example, wouldn’t you?”

“I feel someone’s eyes on me...!”

“Did I mesmerize you?”

Alchemy

Good ★

“Be quiet and concentrate.”

“Understand the materials we’re using.”

“Measure carefully.”

“Did you read the textbook?”

“A practical recipe.”

“Crewel has excellent taste.”

“This is making me smell like chemicals.”

“Eternal beauty...”

“Carefully...”

“This stench is making me lose my appetite.”

“Don’t lose focus.”

“There is no way I made any mistakes.”

“Done in the wink of an eye.”

“Looking sharp in these white clothes is a must.”

“That’s wrong.”

Great ★★

“It’s easy if you just follow the recipe.”

“I’m worth more than jewels.”

“Well done.”

“One cannot live without desire...”

“Unrusted gold... Just like me.”

Perfect ★★★

“What a snore-fest.”

“Brewing is one of my specialties.”

“There’s not a chance in a million I’d ever fail.”

“Gold used for more than just a crown...”

“The fact that I can do this much shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

Special Lesson Perfect ★★★

“I can’t make any mistakes.”

“Stop talking to me right now.”

“You’re not done until you’ve reviewed everything.”

“Don’t rush anything.”

“This is what it means to work little by little everyday.”

#vil schoenheit #voice lines

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racebox-of-higgars · 3 years

Text

No More Boring Allegories

Part One of “The Unkindest Cut Of All”

So, this is the first in a new oneshot series I’m writing. I’m gonna say here - BIG trigger warning for suicide for the whole series.

Please stay safe everyone, my DMs are always open if you ever need to talk.

Summary: "You noticed things were getting bad. He was too distant, as if he was a million miles away. He went through the motions of the day without actually being there. You sit him down, you say, “we need to talk,” and you don’t miss the way immediately puts up walls around himself. But he knows what it's about and he knows that you know, which just about destroys any chance of actually getting somewhere you may have had with him. You gave him the chance to close himself off, and he took it. That was mistake number one."

It's been six months since Race died, and Jack finally found the courage to go through and work out where things really went wrong.

Songfic based on How To Save A Life by The Fray. Title from Turtles All The Way Down by Sammy Copley

Read on AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31398146

@angelslibrary

Dear Past Jack Kelly.

Jack slammed the pen down on the desk, head in his hands. This was already so stupid. Apparently it was supposed to help, supposed to give him some form of release or closure, but he couldn’t see how that was supposed to work. All it did was bring everything back to the surface, everything that he had tried to push down for the last 6 months. He wasn’t ready to confront that.

“Jack?” Davey said from the doorway. “Are you doing it?” Jack looked up at him, saw the encouraging smile he wore, then back to the paper in front of him.

“I’m trying to,” he said finally. Davey nodded.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Please.” Davey nodded again and disappeared down the hall, pulling the door shut behind him with a gentle click. Jack turned back to the paper. He could do this.

You noticed things were getting bad. Too late, but you noticed, and surely that counts for something, right? He was too distant, as if he was a million miles away. He went through the motions of the day without actually being there. So obviously, as any older brother would, you confronted him. You sit him down, you say, “we need to talk,” and you don’t miss the way immediately puts up walls around himself, his face an unreadable mask. “Sit down,” you tell him. “It’s only a talk.” But he knows what it's about and he knows that you know, which just about destroys any chance of actually getting somewhere you may have had with him. You gave him the chance to close himself off, and he took it. That was mistake number one.

Tears welled in his eyes and he furiously blinked them back. He felt sick, thinking about it all. Thinking about every mistake he had made. Maybe, if he had done things differently, Race would still be here. He had done everything all wrong, and it was his fault. His brother was gone, and it was his fault.

He pushed those thoughts back. They were the ones that got him spiralling, and he wasn’t equipped to deal with that. Not now. He furiously wiped his eyes, picked the pen back up, and kept writing.

He had this polite smile - nothing like his normal one, but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen that. You wanted to smile back, but you couldn’t. Instead, you just stared at him. You stared through his masquerade, saw straight through the facade to the hurt underneath that he tried so hard to hide. That was eating him up inside, anyone who knew him could tell, but he had this act that he hid behind. All you wanted to do was break down that act. You just wanted him to tell you the truth for once, but every word that slipped past his lips were lies. Each one drove you further and further apart. Maybe that was what ended it.

Jack and Race had always been close. They told each other everything. Maybe that’s what hurt the most about Race’s lies. They had always been open books to each other, but Race had withdrawn, closed that book, and that’s what had hurt Jack the most.

He was thinking in terms of him being hurt by Race’s actions again. That, rather than how hurt Race had been. He had been making that mistake a lot recently. It wasn’t like he could help it, after all, he was actually here to feel that hurt, Race wasn’t, but that was only because it had become too much for him, apparently. It was becoming too much for Jack, too.

You were terrified. How could you not be? You were walking this line between fearing the worst every day and placing all the blame on him, on yourself. One wrong foot, and you’d fall, and either way would fuck everything up. If you let him know how afraid you truly were, it would only push him away further. If you started blaming him, he’d get worse. If you started blaming yourself, you would end up in the same position he was, and what use to him would that be? It was like some sick tightrope, where one just of wind, one toe out of line, and you would plummet and everything would spiral out of control. As if things weren’t already out of control, completely beyond your efforts. At that point, there was nothing more you could do. It was already over.

Jack furiously wiped his eyes as he went through the motions of Race’s last weeks in his head. Of course, trying not to blame himself hadn’t worked. He did now more than ever. Tears smudged the ink slightly as he wrote, but he powered through. His wrists cramped, but he was finally getting to the root of it all. This had started out as some stupid exercise, but he was beginning to find something in it all.

You tried to talk to him again. Of course, as always, he turned you away with one of those perfectly crafted smiles that only you seemed to be able to see through. A short, “I’m fine, Jack,” and one of those smiles, and you knew there would be no getting through to him. You wondered why you even tried. He didn’t want to be saved.

He didn’t want to be saved. That’s what had resonated with Jack the most. Race hadn’t wanted him, no matter how hard Jack tried to believe that he did. If anything, by pushing him Jack had only pushed him away more. He had gone wrong in so many places, he could see that now, but hindsight wasn’t going to do him or Race anymore. Hindsight couldn’t bring Race back.

You tried to set things out logically for him. After all, you could see everything from the outside, so you could use that perspective to help, right? Wrong. You couldn’t see everything. You couldn’t see how much everything was tearing him up inside. “You think you know this better than I do, don’t you?” He had asked, bitter betrayal in his voice, and you weren’t able to answer, because it was the truth. You couldn’t tell him outright that he was wrong in the way he was coping, but you had to in some way, otherwise you would lose him forever. He didn’t want to hear it when you tried to explain that. It was as if he had put up some wall and you saw that he wasn’t listening to a word you tried to tell him. He had made up his mind.

God, he had fucked everything up. His brother was gone, and it was his fault. He had done everything he knew how to try to save Race, and yet, here he was - writing this stupid fucking letter to himself 6 months ago, but it felt like years and only seconds at the same time. Every day without Race felt as if it was a year, yet they were so monotonous that they passed by in the blink of an eye. How was it only 6 months ago? It felt like he had aged 50 years since it all happened. He had made too many mistakes. Too many fuck ups. He was only 21, he wasn’t meant to feel this old, this broken.

For the first time in your life, you prayed. You prayed that he would just see sense, like a mantra, every night. “Please, God, let him wake up. Let him listen to me. I haven’t asked you for anything before now, and I’ll never ask for anything again, just grant me this. Bring him back to me.” God doesn’t listen. You learned that the hard way. Why doesn’t God listen? Isn’t He supposed to save good people? Then why didn’t he save him, who had never done anything wrong? Race deserved to be saved. Maybe it was God’s way of punishing you.

Jack had given up on believing. After that, he didn’t see the point. If God couldn’t see that Race deserved His mercy, then surely He wasn’t there. Since then, he hadn’t believed in much of anything. There was nothing to believe in. Nobody had heard him when he screamed and cried and begged for someone, anyone to save Race, so why should he have faith in them? There was nothing. Nothing that was worth believing in, anyway.

He started yelling. You didn’t expect that from him. Every time you had confronted him before, he had always been soft-spoken, quiet as sweet lies spilled easily from his lips. Not this time. This time he exploded, hurling accusations like knives, and you were lost. What could you do in that situation? You lowered your voice, tried to make him listen to you, finally, but he wouldn’t. He was too far gone.

You saw the two paths he had ahead of him - he could spill everything, and maybe then he’d have a chance of being saved, or he’d just smile and say that he’s just not the same anymore. It’s the stress of college, that’s what he told you. And then you blew up. That was your final mistake. It was all lies, and you were sick of them. He tried to blame it on the time you had spent apart, but it was all bullshit, you knew that. You saw straight through him, but there was no way for you to make him see. Again, you wondered why you bothered trying anymore.

Except this time, you said it out loud, and that was the biggest mistake.

Jack’s tears came freely, staining the paper with streaks of black as sob after uncontrollable sob wrenched its way from his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Guilt clouded his mind, tinting everything black. Nothing was right anymore. It had all gone wrong, in that moment. Who knew one moment, just a few seemingly meaningless words could tear a world apart?

You did everything you knew how. It wasn’t enough to save him though. There never would be enough to save him, he was too far gone before you even started trying. You tried everything you knew. But even then, no matter how much you do, it won’t change anything. Because he’s gone, and you can’t save him.

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #suicide tw #angst #dead racetrack higgins #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #davey jacobs #fanfiction #jack kelly and racetrack higgins are brothers #background javid

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goosewithasaxophone · 3 years

Text

Attack On Titan seasons 3+4 Spoilers (and 1 if you haven’t started it or gotten halfway thru it yet)

EVERYONE LISTEN UP OR DONT IDC BUT I JUST FINISHED EPISODE 8 OF AOT AND I HAVE AN IRRELEVANT HEADCANON THAT HELPS ME FALL ASLEEP AT NIGHT

Levi says to the kids (i guess they’re not kids anymore 😭😭😭😭) “Don’t die on me” and i just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA it got me thinking how fuckin TIRED THIS POOR MAN IS of LOSING HIS FRIENDS

he lost his mom as a young child, his squad in s1, Kenny, Erwin and almost Hange (TOO CLOSE MOM TOO CLOSE) in s3, now Sasha in s4 ??? he needs a BREAK !!!!!!!!!!!!

so here’s my headcanon that i think about nonstop ☺️☺️

Levi is alone in his office after they return from the fight between Eren and the other titans. Sasha is put to rest with her things gathered and folded nicely on Levi’s desk to return to her family (are they alive ?? whatever i don’t remember).

He’s sitting at his desk writing a letter to go with Sasha’s things when they’re given back to whomever. Hange walks in, she’s exhausted. They both are. She stands in his doorway watching him. He tells her to come in, his tone gruff and assertive and his voice low and tired. His eyes are dark, even under the light of the lantern on his desk, shedding a low warm glow around the little room.

Hange steps closer and stands behind him where he sits, reading over his shoulder at the letter he’s writing. Beside it, she sees another letter, in fact, it’s a small pile of letters. Each paper has his scribbly writing inked and smudged and aged. She glided her fingers across the sides of the top page in the pile, trying to read them under the dull light. She sees the name “Erwin Smith” appear several times in several variances throughout the letter. Her heart twinges at the heartfelt words in the letter. Underneath that one she searches for other names in the other letters. She sees Petra, Oluo, Eld, and Gunther throughout the other pages.

By the time she finishes reading final letter in the pile she snaps back into the moment and notices Levi writing more aggressively on Sasha’s letter. His pen is taking the pressure from his hands and almost tearing through the paper. Hange has to place her hand on his wrist before he goes too far. He resists and tears a hole in the paper.

“Fuck,” he curses aggressively under his breath. Hange is about to say something, she opens her mouth to try to say something, anything that will reassure Levi that the tear in the page is nothing to fret, he can write another copy. But she knows she can’t say that because his words are authentic and to write another copy would be replicating a feeling already felt. That’s dwelling in the past and Levi doesn’t do that.

So she says nothing, and instead places her hand on his back. If she presses her palm flat against him she can feel his breath grow shallow and rigid. His breathing becomes audible.

Levi does not show emotion. He stares straight ahead and speaks monotonously no matter the situation. He uses his actions as expression and displays loyalty through his behavior.

Unless he’s alone with Hange.

Moments pass and Hange thinks he’s pulled himself together, so she takes a step back. Just as her fingertips lift from the man’s back he slams his fist on the desk and drops his face into his hands. Hange swoops down and throws herself over him like a protective blanket. She snakes her arms around him as far as they’ll go and squeezes tightly.

Levi curls forward from within her embrace and continues to try to control his breathing. He’s failing, they’re both aware, and neither say a word. It’s not until Hange realizes he isn’t going to immediately pull himself together that she takes another action. Shuffling her feet until she’s directly in front of him she brings her arms underneath his and raises him so he’s standing. She can hold him much closer this way.

“Fucking shit,” he sobs. Despite the lack of context Hange knows exactly what he’s talking about. It translated to “Why do I keep losing people?” She says the only thing she can think to say in the moment.

“Not me,” she whispers, feeling her own tears begin to sting her eyes. “Never me.”

“You were too close,” he mumbles. “Don’t ever fucking pull some shit like that again, he growled, remembering back to the sight of her being slammed against the trees, the sound of her voice shouting in pain as she hit the hard surfaces on her way down after her gear failed to suspend her. “That was too fucking close.”

Hange chuckles weakly. “I’ll do my best.”

“No you won’t. Your wreckless ass can’t stand not being at the center of danger.”

“What do you expect, that’s how we learn about things. From the center of them.”

“You’re fucking stupid.”

“I know.”

He brings his arms around her waist and pulls tightly. She knows he doesn’t mean the things he says. She knows he doesn’t think she’s intellectually stupid. He just doesn’t want to lose her too.

“You’re not gonna lose me, but I can’t lose you either, okay?” she said, trying to take a more encouraging turn. “I can’t handle those stupid kids on my own. Someone’s gotta be around to kick the shit outta them and keep ‘em in line, okay?” He nods against her chest and keeps his face buried in her.

It’s late evenings like these, when they return from some sort of mission, after Levi has changed out of his bloodstained clothes and Hange has restored her messy ponytail and everyone else has settled in for a long awaited rest, that Levi finds himself emotionally more vulnerable. It’s late evenings like these that when Hange is around and they’re alone, he can let himself be vulnerable. She’s his closest remaining partner.

It’s the pile of letters on his desk, never sent out, only ever growing with every additional squad member’s death, that Hange sees Levi’s true colors in. He’s not the cold, distant, abusive caption that everyone fears to anger lest they experience his wrath. He’s the damaged, healing, fragile captain that is so goddamn determined to keep his squads alive because every single time a member dies, another small piece of him dies with them. When the kids came into the picture he had never felt a greater weight on his shoulders. Every boy containing Farlan’s eyes and every girl containing Isabel’s, though no one saw it but him. He had to keep these stupid, wreckless, impulsive kids alive, because if he didn’t, who would?

But now the kids weren’t kids anymore. They were growing up. They were maturing. They were seeing things that toughened their skin and their hearts. They were taking control of their lives and realizing the real important things in life.

Levi was glad he could see them grow up and become wreckless adults instead of their old wreckless selves. But it also scared him, because he used to be that fresh new wreckless adult. And now he was the only one left. Him and Hange.

And that’s why he puts up an emotionless front. Because he and Hange are the last two left. The kids may think they are on their own, but Levi keeps an eye out. He watches and observes and takes pride in their enthusiasm on the good days and stays quietly sympathetic in the defeated hope on the bad ones. He’s watching because he cares so much. And that is what makes him so afraid.

Anyway that took me a half hour to type out because the more i thought about it while writing it the more developed it got. So there’s my big detailed headcanon, probably some misinformation in there but that’s because i don’t always understand what’s going on in the show and i’m far too behind to start the manga now. hope y’all enjoy and can suffer through the rest of the season along with me <3

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xddaengx · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home: Safety

⚬ Pairings: Hoseok x Reader ft Jimin

⚬ Genre: Hybrid AU | Romance | Angst |

⚬ Warnings: Mentions of Trauma | Nightmares | PTSD | Mentions of Domestic Abuse |

⚬ Word Count: 4.4k

⚬ Summary: Adopting Hobi was a complete accident - well maybe not an accident - but you definitely did not expect to walk home from the adoption fundraiser with a ex-police dog in tow. But maybe having Hoseok around was going to be a blessing in disguise.

⚬ Author’s Note: This is apart of the Welcome Home Series. This is the first instalment - and there will be many more to come! Let me know what you thought and who you think will be next. (it should be pretty obvious)

“We’d like to welcome all the participants in todays fundraiser. All of the hybrids that are up for adoption today have been rescued and rehabilitated over the past two years, and have finally decided they wanted to find new families.” The old woman says into her microphone, the hybrids standing around the stage waving to the audience - some definitely more excited that others.

You look over each of the hybrids, some cat and dog hybrids as well as some exotics standing on the sides of the stage interacting with the people that approach them to ask about adoption.

“You look a little lost.” A voice whispers from besides you as you look down at your handout with a photo and small description of each of the hybrids up for adoption.

“Yeah…A little bit. I really didn’t think I was going to come today but my doctor thinks adopting a hybrid could be really beneficial for me.” You say back glancing at the older man besides you quickly before turning back to the handout. “I don’t even know what kind of hybrid I’m looking for.” You whisper more to yourself than anyone, sighing as you drop your hand holding the handout.

“Well it sounds like you need more of an active hybrid, but not one that is overly excitable - oh and one that isn’t too standoff-ish.” He says taking the handout from your hand looking over it quickly before letting out a big grin. “And I know just the one.”

The man moves quickly, waving for you to follow him. He shuffles over to a small tent at the back of the fundraiser, two straight faced hybrids standing underneath it.

“Hoseok. Jackson. Meet…” You quickly give the man your name, and he repeats it softly, giving the two hybrids an encouraging smile as they both introduce themselves back.

“Our lovey friend here is interested in adopting a hybrid - and judging by what she was saying she needs someone just like you, Hoseok.” The old man can’t help but nudge the black haired hybrid towards you, the two of you quickly taking steps apart.

“Hobi here is one of my old partners - we spent most of our days stuck in that ragged old police car, but we still managed to have fun. Didn’t we?” The man chides, Hoseok nodding along as he continues to look over your appearance.

“You were in the police force?” You question, the old man nodding quickly.

“I still am - but our hybrids tend to get worn down quicker, it’s a tough job for them - most of them retire by the age of twenty five. Hobi, here was one of our best. I wanted to make sure he got the best home possible, so I thought I would bring him here - see what kind of family he was looking for.” You nod along to the mans answer, looking over to the large scar running from the bottom of the hybrids chin, disappearing under his collar.

“That’s understandab—“

“I like her.” The hybrid cut you off, looking over to the man standing besides the two of you. “She has a good smell.” He adds, though he could smell something mixed in - a smell he was very familiar with - Anxiety.

“Ok - well maybe we should leave the two of you alone for a moment…to discuss things.” The man and the second hybrid scuttle away the two of them sending you an encouraging smile distracting you as hoseok takes a few steps closer, inhaling deeply.

“What are you doing?” You shriek, jumping away from the hybrid - his own reflexes making his jump back as well, straightening his back.

“Sorry…I just needed to make sure.” He says quickly, putting his hands up in defence turning to grab some papers off of the table. “You smell like sunflowers and honey.” He says handing you the papers and a pen, before adding, “Though, I can smell some fear - you don’t like being in public places, do you?”

“No, not particularly. What are these?” You look down to the papers in your hand taking the pen from Hoseok.

“They’re expressions of interest. If you are interested in adopting me, you need to fill one out. Mr Bang will look through all the forms at the end of the evening picking the top three and then let us decide who we want to be with more.” Hoseok explains, pointing to the pile on the table - the pages already covered in ink. “Most of those people are inadequate - they either want the status or the skills of an ex police hybrid. But you…You are much better. I like you much better.” He adds quietly, watching expectantly as you read through everything on the paper clicking the end of the pen a few times before looking back to him.

“It’s only if you want to though…I understand if you don’t want to - we can be a bit intimidating.” You sigh and give him a small smile before beginning to fill out the forms, taking notice of the small smile that blooms on Hoseok’s face as you focus on the forms, his smile disappearing as you lift your head to look back at him as you hand him the forms - completed.

“We will be in touch very soon.” Hoseok says leaving you in the dust as he rushes to the old man standing across the grass oval, handing him the forms with hurried words - the old man sending you a big smile in response.

It’s been three days since the adoption fundraiser and you haven’t heard anything about the ex police hybrid and the happy old man. To be completely honest - you were disappointed.

Hoseok - as weird as he was - left quite a nice impression on you. He left you with a feeling of warmth you hadn’t felt in years. His smile haunted you as you wondered what went wrong.

Maybe they just chose someone more qualified?

Even Hoseok said ex police animals can be intimidating.

Your phone ringing from the lounge makes you spring up from the chair at the dinner table - rushing to grab the phone and answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi…This is Hoseok from the adoption fundraiser, is this the number for Y/N?” The voice cuts through you like a knife, and you can’t help but smile.

“Yes, this is Y/N.” You answer quickly. What if he’s giving you bad news? The boy on the other line seems to pause for a moment before spitting out.

“Would you be able to meet me at the coffee shop next to the Incheon Police Station? I was hoping you were still interested in finishing off those adoption papers.” You can’t help but let out a deep breath - this was everything you had been thinking about the past few days.

“Yes. Yes, I’d love to.” You say quickly, cringing slightly before you add, “I could probably drop in, in about half an hour,” in a softer tone. The boys on the other line seems just as excited, his voice cracking slightly as he confirms with a ‘see you soon’ before hanging up the phone.

You rush to get ready, tidying what you could, of your crowded apartment, just in case. You pull on a large cardigan, grabbing your bright yellow handbag from the door before rushing down the stairs to your car parked on the street - the drive to the cafe passing quickly.

It’s easy to spot the hybrid and his previous owner sitting in the corner of the cafe - teenage girls gawking and whispering about the cute hybrid, the sound seeming to annoy Hoseok by the twitching of his ears. His gaze moves from the group of teenager over to you standing by the door, his facing lighting up as he pokes his owner motioning to where you stand.

You hurry over to the two smiling men, ignoring the way the teenage girls scoff as you pull up a seat, giving Hoseok a small smile as his tail smack against the chair besides him.

“Y/N, we’re so glad you could make it. Hobi here has been talking about you non-stop. He refused every potential owner I showed him.” The man laughs as you take a seat, the hybrid flushing as his secret is revealed.

“Well, I’m glad. I was really disappointed for a moment, I thought you had chosen someone else.”

“Never.” Hoseok gasps at your sentence. You stare at him for a second, surprised at his dramatic reaction.

“He’s always been one to bond quickly. There are many people he doesn’t like but when he finds someone he does like - he doesn’t let them go.” The man explains, looking at Hoseok with a fond smile. “Well, I guess we should get on with it.”

Filling out all the paperwork take the three of you almost two hours.

Apparently owning a hybrid comes with quite a lot of paperwork.

“Ok, well I’ll go send these to the registration office and they should send you and hobi your new licenses in a few days.” The older man says. He had briefly explained to you that hybrids and owners must carry a license that shows their status. Yours will have a picture of Hoseok and his details on it as well as your own to show that you're his rightful owner, whiles Hoseok’s will have a picture of you and your details as well as his own to show others that he has been adopted.

“It saves everyone a lot of trouble - a clear way to show that they are owned and cannot be taken without consent. It also gives them a bit more freedom.” The older man had said after explaining everything to you. You nodded as he collected all the papers sliding them into a yellow envelope before tucking it under his arm.

“Well, we better get your stuff out of my car.” He says and Hoseok jumps up to help grab all of his belongings, moving them from the mans sleek black car, into your run down silver jeep. The two men embrace each other quickly - the older man whispering something into Hoseok’s ear that has him nodding and stepping towards you, as the old man slides into his car pulling away from the curb shortly after.

“We should probably get some groceries before we go home.” You mumble, fumbling with your car keys - motioning for Hoseok to get in the passenger seat.

Your trip to the store is quick, Hoseok’s face was straight as he watched all the people mull around - but his tail wagged like crazy, hitting against your hip every few seconds as you pick out some of his favourite foods, and treats, deciding tonight was going to be a celebration and you would both order pizza for dinner.

Hoseok carries all the groceries for you, rejecting your attempts to take one of the bags from him, he follows behind you closely as you make your way to your apartment, his tail now smacking against the wall as you walk down the hall.

“Look what we have here?” A voice hisses from outside your apartment door. You smile at the spoilt hybrid, jumping at the way Hoseok growls from behind you.

“Be nice, Jimin. This is Hoseok, my new hybrid. We just finalised the paperwork today.” You say quietly opening the door to your apartment, ushering Hoseok inside as you turn back towards the feline hybrid.

“Oh…You got a hybrid?” Jimin asks, the surprise evident on his face. You had known Jimin for four years now, since your first moved into your apartment - his owner an elderly woman that lived down the hall - used to spoil him rotten. He was her prized possession. Recently she had gotten weaker and Jimin had turned to getting his attention from you.

You had mentioned to Jimin in the past the your were thinking of getting a hybrid, and that your doctor had recommended one. He had joked with you, saying you should just adopt him. You laughed and waved off the idea never taking notice of the way his face dropped.

“Well, I guess that means I can’t hang around anymore.” He shrugs going to walk to his own house but you stop him, a small hand on his wrist.

“You know your welcome anytime, Jimin. I’m sure Hoseok wouldn’t mind the company either.” Jimin nods at your words, a deflated smile on his face, as he lightly pulls his wrist from your hand before sauntering to his apartment.

“I don’t like that cat.” Hoseok says as you close the front door, You sigh leading him to your kitchen to start putting the groceries away. “He had a weird smell when he saw me…Like he was angry about me being here.” He adds, helping you unpack the groceries onto the bench so you could put them away.

“Well, you’re going to have to like him. He’s a good person - he can just come off as a little snobbish.” You say, pulling your phone out of your pocket as everything is put away.

“Let’s order some pizza and then I can show your new room.” Hoseok’s tail begins wagging once more.

The first two months of having Hoseok live with you were fairly uneventful - you were quick to take him shopping to get anything he wanted to decorate his new room. Jimin had yet to come inside while the dog hybrid was in the house, preferring to talk to you in the hallway - still craving your attention, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself.

The first set of problems seemed to arise three months after Hoseok had joined you as your new companion. He was usually very quiet, preferring to just sit and watch you do things - read, work, cook, he watched you do anything with such amazement. He would on occasion have stage bursts of energy where he would pull you from your spot in the house demanding you go on a walk with him, or if you were busy it usually meant he would sulk in his room for the rest of the night.

The first time you noticed the whimpers coming from the room besides yours, you though it was a trick your mind was playing on you. It was so quiet, that you shook it off quickly.

Maybe it was the couple next door. They tended to get quite vocal.

The second time you heard it, a low growl followed and you knew it had to be coming from the black hair hybrid who slept in the room next door. You sprung up from your bed, leaving your room as quietly as possible, slowly opening the hybrids bedroom door.

“Hobi?” You questioned, walking further into the bedroom so you could see the boy clearly. His hair was a mess as his head thrashed about on the pillow, incoherent mumbles falling from his mouth as he let out another low growl.

“Let her go.” He growled, his teeth baring. You would’ve thought he was awake if your couldn’t see his eyes squeezed shut. “I said let her go…She’s just a child.” He continues, as your breath catches in your throat - you take a few more steps towards him, sitting on the bed besides him and his thrashing continues, his growls getting louder.

“Hobi.” You say one more time, a little louder as you reach out towards his sweat covered body.

“No.” He yelps, jumping up from his spot in the bed crouching besides it with a low growl. You jump up from the bed, throwing your hands up in defence as you look towards the shaking hybrid.

“Hobi, it’s just me. I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” You say quickly, putting your hands by your side as you look over his appearance. The hybrid was obviously frazzled and covered in shining drops of sweat as he watches you walk around the bed until you stand besides him, unable to mask your concern for his demeanour.

“You’re ok. You’re safe.” You whisper quietly, dropping to the floor as tear well in the hybrids eyes.

“I couldn’t save her…She was just a child, and I couldn’t save her.” He cries, dropping his posture as a sob finally escapes him. You waste no time in latching your arms around his shoulders, using one hand to stroke his head softly, sharing soft whispers as he continues to cry on your shoulder - his hand wrapped tightly around your waist.

You’re not sure when he fell asleep again, but you remember pulling his blanket off the bed, draping it over the two of you as you lean back against the wall, stoking the hybrids head, that was placed lightly in your lap. You couldn’t leave him like this alone. So you sat with your back against the wall patting his soft hair until you eventually drifted off to sleep as well.

“What was all the ruckus last night?” Jimin questions you, as you sit outside your apartment building, a cup of tea clutched tightly in your hand, a large jacket around your shoulders. You look at him surprised, not knowing how he could’ve heard the two of you in your apartment. The nightmare had been continuing to get worse over the past few weeks and didn’t show any sign of stopping.

“You know Hoseok used to be a police hybrid?” You say softly, noticing the way Jimin grimaces. It was a job - though one Hobi loved - that no hybrid envied. The canine hybrids were usually used for tracking, in most cases tracking people, who unfortunately were rarely still alive. “He was used for body retrievals.” You add, letting out a shaky sigh, as Jimin scoots closer to you, draping the yellow blanket from around his shoulders, around your own.

“I can’t imagine what he had to go through.” Jimin whispers, and you nod pulling the blanket tighter, giving him a small smile.

“His previous owner warned me that there would probably be some signs of PTSD, but the last few weeks it’s just gotten worse. He barely sleeps anymore.” You say to the feline, who just sighs besides you, it’s not like he knows how to help.

“Why don’t you do what I used to do, when you had nightmares?” Jimin suggests, the bright smile on his face bringing one to your own.

“You’re a genius, Jimin.” You say quickly, springing up from your spot on the steps, pulling the blanket off your shoulders and draping it back over Jimin’s. “Thank you.” You add giving jimin’s ears a small scratch, his purring starting quickly, before you pull away to rush back to your apartment.

“Anytime.” He whispers as he watches you rush off - though he knows you didn’t hear him.

“Hobi, would you mind come helping me with something?” You call down the hall finishing putting the cupcakes on the plate, bringing them over to the large blanket fort in the middle of the lounge room. Hoseok shuffles down the hallways pausing as he catches sight of the large piles of blankets on the floor, one sheet hanging over the T.V and the back of the lounge, to create a tent.

“What is this?”

“Well, when I used to have a lot of nightmares, Jimin used to come over and build a small fort with me. We would spend all day just watching movies, or reading and we would pig out on all the junk food we could think of.” You explain motioning to the coffee table covered in snacks and treats.

“Why are you doing all of this?” He questions quietly taking a few steps towards your set up, looking at it hesitantly.

“Because sometimes all we need is to feel safe. And sometimes being in small, comfy spaces can do that for people.” You answer, watching as his gaze moves between you and the fort a small smile blooming on his face, his tail wagging slowly. “Hobi, I know things in your past aren’t just going to disappear overnight, but whenever you need a little extra safety, just let me know.” You barely have time to finish your sentence before the canine bowls into you, wrapping you in his arms as tight as he can, letting out a shaky breath into your hair.

“Thank you…Thank you for everything.” He mumbles on your skin, as you reach up to pat his head lightly, scratching behind his ears a little bit.

“Should we start with Jurassic park?” You question, not moving to let go of the boy until he doesn’t first.

“I hope your not watching my favourite movie without me.” You and Hoseok both turn to look at the cat hybrid standing in the door way. Looking at the two of you with a small smile.

“I knew you would come.” You cheer, letting go of Hoseok to pull Jimin over to your set up, ushering Hoseok under the fort first, before you and Jimin follow. You set up the movie, the three of huddled under one big blanket as the nostalgia kicks in.

All three of you were starting to drift of nearing the end of the first movie. You were tucked up against Hoseok, your breathing even, as you slept peacefully. Hoseok lets out a sigh before turning towards Jimin, not knowing how to phrase what he was going to say.

“She said you used to help her with her nightmares?” Hoseok begins, catching Jimin’s attention instantly. Jimin’s eyes look down at you sleeping before looking back at Hoseok giving him a quick nod. “Her nightmares…What were they about?” He questions, taking Jimin by surprise.

“It’s not really my place to tell you…just know she moved here to get away from her past.” Jimin answers looking back down at your with a sad smile. “It was always heartbreaking to see such a gentle person, so terrified of something. I would do anything to help her never feel that again.”

“Me too.” Hoseok agrees, the two hybrids finally having something in common. It doesn’t take long for the two of them to give in to exhaustion, the two following closely behind you into a deep slumber.

You wake surprised to hear Jimin purring in your ear, as Hoseok hold onto your waist with a vice like grip. You smile quickly trying to stifle a laugh as Jimin’s tail twitches, falling over your waist, tickling Hoseok. You barely manage to slip out from between the two of them, without waking them out - but somehow, by the grace of god, you make it out. You make yourself a cup of tea before making your way over to the large window to the side of the lounge room, watching as people make their way to work.

“Y/N? Do you think we could talk for a moment?” Hoseok’s sleepy voice makes you turn away from your people watching, you look down at the still sleeping Jimin and motion for Hoseok to follow you down the hall into your bedroom.

“You mentioned that you had nightmares last night, and I couldn’t help but wonder…Why?” Hoseok’s question surprises you, but you just give him a small smile.

“I was engaged, once upon a time.” You say with a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood as you take a seat on the bed, Hoseok copying you movements, his attention only on you. You let out a small sigh before continuing.

“Things started off well between us - he was kind, and gentle and so, so charming. But once he had proposed things started to go badly. He started drinking a lot and most nights he would come home and just fall asleep on the lounge, but sometimes he would be so angry, so full of hatred.” You take a few deep breaths, watching a Hoseok scoots closer to you taking your hands in his.

“The first time he hit me, he told me he made a mistake. But it just kept happening. Eventually he stopped apologising for it - start blaming me, made me think I was the reason he was beating me. Sometimes instead of beating me, he would hold me down and…” You pause for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“He would have his way with me…I gave up fighting after two years, and just let him do whatever he wanted, just praying that maybe he would kill me - or maybe he would accidentally kill himself. “ You pause again, Hoseok’s eye brimming with his own tears.

“One night he hit my head against the table and I lost consciousness, he still somehow had enough humanity to panic and call an ambulance. A hybrid - like you actually - could smell the fear on me whenever he was in the room, and when he took my statement he was quick to piece everything together…God, I’m a mess.” You laugh as you wipe the tears off your cheeks.

“You’d think after five years of therapy, it wouldn’t still affect me this much…Anyway, they found enough evidence and prosecuted him. He’s in jail for the next twenty years and hopefully by the time he gets out, he’ll have no idea where to find me.” You finish looking down at Hoseok’s hand gripping yours tightly as small droplets fall from his eyes. You pull your hands out of his own, wiping the tears of his cheeks softly giving him a smile.

“When I moved here, I was still struggling - one night I was having a nightmare, and Jimin had managed to slip into my apartment and woke me up. He could hear me from down the hall, and was concerned. Every night for a month after that we slept in the lounge room, in a little fort just like last night…He helped me a lot in my recovery from what happened, so he can get a little protective sometimes.” You explain, Hoseok nodding along to your words.

“Anyway, why don’t we wake up Jimin, and we can go to the cafe down the road, and get some pancakes for breakfast.” You say quietly standing up from the bed, wiping your face one more time, not noticing as Hoseok stands up as well, wrapping you in a hug from behind.

“I’m never going to let anyone hurt you, Y/N…Never.” He whispers, his warmth seeping into your chest, making you feel safer than you ever have.

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eury--dice · 4 years

Text

history, huh?

chapter 2: prope

(check the rb for chapter 1 on tumblr + ao3 links!)

Blue’s gum popped loudly on the other line. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he saw her chew gum, but somehow it seemed fitting that she picked up the habit then, with him overseas. “Any weird paintings?”

“I’m legally obligated not to tell you,” Adam replied, flicking his eyes over a textbook. He scanned his eyes over a page, but the fonts and colors all blurred together, creating a grey and red mass of string in front of him instead of a helpful breakdown of France’s pre-revolution economy. His phone, propped up on a tiny potted fern, revealed Blue Sargent in all of her early-evening glory. He wondered what the tabloids might think of her like this: her thick and short black hair held back by clashing vibrant hair clips, dressed in one of Gansey’s old Aglionby sweaters she converted into a halter top, felt-tip pen ink somehow smudged on her cheek. There was something wonderfully grounding about her familiar chaos.

“Contracts are a suggestion and nothing more.”

“Don’t let your mother hear that. She’ll have us both thrown in jail.” Ronan’s words from earlier popped into his head, but he had the luxury of ignoring them with the prince out of sight, and so he did.

“C’mon, Adam, you know she’s a softie. You’re in Kensington Palace. You have to tell me something exciting.”

Adam scrounged for something to tell her. He glanced around his room again, still caught off-guard by how much it felt like a castle. Admittedly, he didn’t have a great reference for what castles were supposed to feel like; the only other castle he had been in was the Bishop Palace on a tour with his mother at age eight. His hair raised on end at random moments here the same way it did then, the draftiness leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He couldn't quite shake the idea that someone was watching him, caught between air molecules and screaming for someone to hear them. The White House sometimes gave him the same feeling. Realistically, he knew people passed over every spot on the earth and nothing made the walls of the White House or Kensington Palace any different in that regard. But the history in them intimidated him. The presence of greats, from founding fathers to celebrity politicians to monarchs, was a guarantee rather than a possibility. He couldn’t help but feel watched by them, feel their expectations and disappointment thick in the air.

Living there all the time as Ronan did must be lonely, surrounded only by ghosts.

He pushed his feet against the floor, leaning back in his chair so that it balanced on two legs. His leg swung back and forth to dully hit the wooden underside of the seat while the other braced him. Adam didn’t quite want to tell Blue any of that. He knew she would understand, both because she was Blue and because her family was a big believer in the supernatural and psychic. But he didn’t know how to say it without a long-winded rant. “There’s a coat of armor outside my room,” he admitted in a low tone. “I’ve been waiting for it to twitch its finger and beckon me closer.”

“I’m sure if you ask nicely it will let you pursue your weird metal fantasies.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Adam said without heat, finally flipping the textbook shut. “No kink-shaming over the phone.”

“I watched the Wizard of Oz with you at age eight, Adam. You can’t hide your reaction to the Tin Man from me.”

Adam rubbed his eyes. “I need ice cream to deal with this bullying,” he announced, standing from the borrowed desk and snatching his phone up.

“Aw, at least I know that the English haven’t been able to suck all the life out of you if you’re complaining and want ice cream.”

“They haven’t managed it yet, but we’re only one photo op in.”

“Well, if the excess of British does manage to sideline you, let me know. I know Gansey will want the heads-up for the tabloids.”

“As long as you don’t feed them headlines again, I’d be happy to.” Adam rounded the corner into the spacious kitchen reserved for guests of the Crown. He’d roll his eyes at the needless expense if the White House didn’t provide the exact same accommodations.

“I’m telling you again, I know nothing of the allegation.”

Adam gave her a flat look. “Who else would pen ‘First Son Denies Fur Son Residence in the Residence?’ Besides the obvious reason for it being bad, it was clearly you.”

Blue blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Sometimes I hate your intimate knowledge of my love of wordplay.”

“And I yours of the diplomatic taxidermy gifts I receive.”

“I’m sure the Minister of Foreign Affairs’ son meant well, he was just...creepy.”

Adam sighed, opening the freezer with one hand to reveal a box of pre-packaged ice cream cones. “They always mean well.”

He pulled the box from the freezer and shut the door, turning on his heel to face the counter. But he stopped short when he noticed it was no longer just him and Blue alone in the kitchen.

Prince Ronan stood in the entryway to the kitchen, disarmed in the half-light with his flannel pajama pants and black t-shirt combination. Over-the-ear headphones sat on his head, but he pushed them down to loop around his neck. The music was so loud it bled into the air, carrying the harsh sound of drums until they reached Ronan across the kitchen. On his screen, Blue studied Adam and his sudden pause, and the voice of Gansey carried over from somewhere far away - “I’ve got a new article,” it sounded like, though Adam could barely hear anything.

“Call you back,” he said quietly, disconnecting from the call. Ronan looked almost apologetic when Adam looked back up towards him.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he confessed. “Goody-two-shoes like you.”

Adam wanted to take offense to it, but something stopped him. “I could say the same for you.”

“Yes, well, insomnia calls.”

“Doesn’t it always?” The two shared a tight smile.

“I was out,” Ronan explained, gesturing to the box in Adam’s hand. “Knew there’d be a stock here. I’m...sorry.” The word sounded bitter and foreign on his tongue.

“It’s fine,” Adam said. “Midnight snacks are to be taken seriously or not at all.” He slid the box across the counter, suddenly very aware of his threadbare, faded crimson coca-cola tee shirt and GU sweatpants. He couldn’t stop feeling the slide of them against his skin.

Ronan clutched the box once it reached him, looking to Adam with something close to surprise. Still, he opened the box and selected an ice cream.

While he was distracted, Adam snapped a picture, the flash bright in the dim kitchen.

The stare leveled at him by Ronan should’ve been enough to pin any self-preserving person in place, but Adam rarely did what was best for him personally. “What the fuck is that for?”

“Two social media posts a day,” Adam replied, speeding through the filtering process and tapping to the captioning. “It’s part of the contract.”

“Of course it would be,” Ronan mutters with great disdain. “Fucking social media addicted hounds.”

“Not a fan of technology?”

“Oh, sure, other than the fact that it’s a blight consuming the world by slaughtering brain cells and slowly giving us radiation poisoning.”

“You could’ve just said ‘yes.’”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Adam smiled brightly. “Not giving me a headache from all of the pomposity?”

“Exactly. No fun.” When Adam continued to stare blankly at his screen, Ronan rolled his eyes. “Does it take you this long to caption everything you do? If so, I understand why so little governing takes place.”

“Because the monarchy is oh-so-powerful,” Adam replied, but then decided to cut them off before it could turn into a full-blown fight. “It always takes me a minute to think of something good.”

Ronan grabbed the phone from his hands. “You’re overthinking it,” he dismissed, making a few decisive taps before handing the phone back to Adam, photo captioned but not yet posted. insomnia ice cream ft. @PrinceRonan.

“Thought you hated technology?”

“Hate and lack of proficiency are two different things.” “...Of course,” Adam said, clicking post on the photo. Ronan turned and walked toward the door, the song on his headphones audibly changing. Not one for goodbyes, then. The feeling he had in his room was back then, the idea that ghosts clung to the air around him and stole oxygen with their demands. Although Ronan had not yet left, Adam already felt as though he were lonely. Lonely, but not alone, still technically with Ronan and all of the ghosts thickening the air.

Adam, in a fluid movement he didn’t really plan, dumped half of the ice creams on the counter and held out the box across the marble countertop as though bridging some wide ocean. The coolness of the marble inched closer to the skin of his forearm where it hovered a few inches in the air.

“You can take these if you’d like.”

Ronan froze, his back straightened and still before he turned ninety degrees back to look at Adam. “Pardon?”

“The ice cream cones. It’s probably better you do, honestly. I just eat them when I’m bored. Calories I don’t really need.”

Ronan’s startlingly blue eyes studied him for a moment, roaming every line of Adam’s face as though searching for some trickery and then jumping to the box in Adam’s outstretched hand. “Thank you,” he said at last in an undertone, accepting the offered box. And, leaving Adam with some hint of a smile, Prince Ronan was gone, Adam all by himself and the faint memory of intense guitar music leaking from expensive headphones still lingering in the air.

Once they landed firmly in PR territory, Adam felt a bit steadier on his feet.

PR he knew like the back of his hand, armed with years of experience from campaigns and political terms. It was not innate for him like for Gansey, but like everything else in his life, Adam was a star pupil and quick to pick it up thoroughly. He studied diligently, examining the facial expressions of everyone around him, examining each furrow of brow and twitch of lips and bellow of a laugh, practicing and perfecting on his own to ensure that he blended in seamlessly and, when necessary, stood out brilliantly. America’s First Son, valedictorian-intelligent and attractive enough to stop hearts for a moment upon seeing him. By the time he sat on ITV This Morning next to his enemy, he certainly knew all the tips and tricks and expertise ensuring a successful interview, and luckily Ronan seemed to know his way around a talk show as well. His thoroughly British host seemed appropriately charmed by their dynamic, a golden-child American and England’s simultaneously proper and wild Royal.

Adam excelled at PR not because he was natural but because he was over-prepared, and so he was comfortable with the rhythm he and Ronan fell into - referencing each other’s favorites, cracking dry, sarcastic jokes about ice cream, fist-bumping and throwing arms around each other’s shoulders for effect when needed.

He counted it as a win that his resentment never made it into his words or his actions. Instead, he distracted himself with what they were doing, savoring the news alerts of their “clearly natural” friendship and the thumbs-up and “!!!” texts from Gansey and Blue whenever something exciting reached the press. He ignored Ronan for the most part, and Ronan mostly ignored him. He clenched his teeth and smiled at how rough-and-tumble Ronan looked under stage lighting, as wickedly handsome as a poisoned and sharpened dagger, unfairly attractive even with his head closely shaved.

Then the time for their second photo op rolled around, sometime after Adam posted an empty-feeling snapshot of Ronan on a deserted London sidewalk with the caption love a nice mid-afternoon walk, and his mood plummeted sharply.

As well as people and hospitals generally went together, Adam did not have a particularly terrible relationship with any hospitals, especially the Royal Marsden NHS Foundation Trust. He did not enjoy them, sure, but who did? And his discomfort may have gone below the surface-level “death and sickness occur here” jitteriness most people felt, but the majority of the unease coiling in his stomach came from the utterly staged feeling to everything. The First Son and Prince came bearing gifts of books, but they probably did more harm than good for all of the children by displacing all the medical professionals and disrupting their steady routines with full camera crews.

It felt hypocritical, and Adam definitely didn’t want to be shoving cameras in the faces of cancer patient children, but the decisions weren’t up to him, and so he slipped back into PR mode. He shook the hands of nurses and posed faux-candidly for cameras. The only real things he did were with the kids - once they knew who he was, they asked for stories of celebrities and monuments, and although Adam was no fantastic storyteller, he did his best to answer every question and then some. He read to them, too, from the new and donated books, even when the cameras left in search of Ronan. Anger was hard to hold onto when he looked into their faces and resolved to cheer them up.

He read until his voice began to grind at itself, tucked next to kids on narrow hospital cots. They were all ages, and all perfectly suited to throw Adam back into memories he didn’t want to relive. Looking at the books, with the gaudily-colored pictures and ridiculous rhymes, was easier than looking at the children. They all looked to him with similar looks painted across their faces and twinkling in their eyes, one that made Adam’s heart twist, because he knew that he’d worn that expression so often as a child when he thought someone could help him or save him. They looked at him like he was hope itself, some savior come to grant them a wish and a recovery. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

The visit of the First Son and Prince of England must have cut into naptime because at some point Adam looked up from the book to realize that the camera crews had retreated and all the patients in his ward had dozed off. He slowly unfurled himself, gangly limbs and all, to stand without disturbing the child who rested so fitfully on the hospital cot. His steps were soft and random against the tile, mostly just a blind search to try and find Ronan. It wasn’t long before he heard Ronan’s voice stretching over space from the next room over. Adam slowed, hoping to stay just out of sight while still observing Ronan.

The Prince perched on the edge of a narrow hospital bed, reminding Adam ridiculously of a bird poised to take flight. Since there were no cameras near him, his posture was slightly relaxed like it had been in the kitchen the night previously. A little girl clung tightly to his hand while he gestured wildly with his other, her eyes wide and hanging onto his every word. Ronan’s voice was somehow hushed and grand at the same time, his posh accent dulled to something a little more rural.

“When three hundred years had come and gone, the four swans traveled South to the sea of Moyle, braving the turbulent tides that wanted to draw them under.” He leaned closer to her and tugged lightly on her free hand with his free hand, perhaps to echo the water he mentioned in the story, and she gripped it tightly, nearing laughter with every second. “They swam past the cold and stormy seas, their feathers ruffled but unharmed when they reached Inis Glora. The swans had grown tired over their long journey, the years of their lives catching up to slow them down.”

Adam, without thinking, felt a bit of a smile take over his face. He was taken aback by the change in Ronan. The boy sitting on the bed seemed lightyears away from any other version - he’d gone a little hazy at the edges, as though he were made of smoke, as though Adam was dreaming and viewing some kind of apparition. His tailored lines still stuck out jaggedly, cutting a harsh figure, but he seemed at ease and gentle for the first time Adam had ever seen. One hell of a storyteller, too. Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to know why, as the Prince of England, Ronan could let all of those Irish words roll off of his tongue as though they came naturally.

An Irish children’s tale. An Irish children’s tale. Why would he know any of those? The answer nagged at Adam’s brain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to dig.

The girl was quiet as Ronan’s voice trailed off until it became nothing. The swans had returned to elderly humans and lived with a priest who blessed them for the rest of their days, and Adam assumed that she was processing the anticlimactic ending. Finally, she said, “I like those endings best.”

“You do?” Ronan asked, patience yielding in his tone. “Why do you like them?”

“Sad endings are too sad, but happy endings aren’t real.”

Adam could only see the back of Ronan’s head, but he could hear him clear his throat and see him squeeze the girl’s hand in his much larger one. “Me, too.” He leaned away from her a little, letting go of one of her hands. When he spoke again, a smile was in his voice. “You’re much wiser than the adults I know. I might have to offer you a position advising me.”

The girl laughed again, a giddy and wild and hopeful thing. “You’re very silly,” she informed Ronan, likely too young to realize any breaches in etiquette. Luckily for her, Ronan didn’t care, either.

“I am very serious,” he said, his face no doubt translating that sentiment very well. He squeezed her hand again. “I’ll be back with an offer in fifteen or so years, don’t you worry.”

“Is that a promise?”

Ronan stilled at once, the muscles in his back set just as they had been in the kitchen. Adam didn’t envy the situation she’d inadvertently put Ronan into. As childish and silly as her question was, there was a little too much weight to the response for him to casually offer a yes or a no.

“Do your best to get better,” he said at length, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

And, oh, that expression of hope was back shining on her face, and Adam had to shuffle to his other foot, looking away. The people were the reason he liked politics, liked the idea of trying to help build a world even a fraction better than the one he was raised in, and yet he couldn’t look. Couldn’t bear the thought of letting anyone down.

Ronan glanced behind him, clearly catching sight of Adam, just as a nurse bustled into the room and cheerfully announced that it was time for medicine.

“Thank you,” the little girl said before releasing his hand.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ella,” Ronan said with a stiff formality that made her giggle again. “And of course,” he added, a little more softly.

It was perhaps not a polite enough exit for a prince, but after Ronan clumsily thanked the nurse and stepped back into the ward to meet Adam, he knew it was the best they would get. Ronan continued moving past him in the direction Adam assumed the cameras must have gone.

“Ah, so you do have feelings other than anger,” Adam said, trailing Ronan into the hall.

“Don’t act so fu... completely surprised,” Ronan replied, turning his head towards Adam. At first, he thought Ronan might have been uncomfortable with the idea of Adam seeing the interaction, but instead, his face started to squeeze into something close to a smile, his eyes crinkling and the corners of his mouth lifting. A pop from down the hallway shuttered the expression before it could become fully formed. A shout cut through the air just as Persephone appeared between Ronan and Adam as though materializing from thin air. Her impossibly long, white hair clung to the sleeves of their sweaters with static friction as she shoved them with surprising strength into a closet.

Her voice was still serene and airy despite the sudden tension settling on everyone’s chests. “Wait for the all-clear.” And the door shut with a thunk behind her.

Adam leaned his head against it with a sigh, before very rapidly remembering that they were two high-profile targets in a possible active shooter scenario and doors weren’t exactly safe. He scrambled backward, accidentally knocking into Ronan and sending them tumbling into the wall. Of all the closets to be unceremoniously shoved into, they had to be stuck in one barely large enough for the brooms stacked to his right.

“Can you stop falling into me, please?” came Ronan’s voice, taut with something close to fury but probably closer to anxiety.

“But you love it so much,” Adam bit out, trying to backtrack. Ronan’s face had somehow ended up in Adam’s hair, and he could feel Ronan’s long lashes close, paired with a troubled exhale. Adam managed to extract himself from Ronan and slide against one of the walls, crouching beside something he suspected was a bucket. Ronan followed his example, leaning against the opposite wall until he slid to the ground. Adam couldn’t see Ronan very well, but judging from the faint rustling sounds of buzzed hair against cotton and quick, deep breaths, he wasn’t handling the situation very well.

“This is a new one,” Adam said. “Assassination attempts, I mean. Is this common for the royalty?”

“Shut up,” Ronan said, his voice faint from his position closer to the ground.

“I’m blaming you if we die, you know.” When he received no response, Adam continued. “I probably could have made it at least a couple more years. No one’s ever tried to shoot me before. Guess I’m not important enough on my own. Who knew our fake friendship could be so deadly?”

“Fuck off,” Ronan replied, his breaths still deep.

“I’d love to, mate,” Adam said, forcing faux-jolly British inflection into the last word, “But we’re stuck in this closet for the foreseeable future, or until we get shot.”

“I meant shut up before that happens.”

“What, you’re not keen on life-threatening scenarios?” Ronan didn’t respond, and Adam felt a bit of genuine concern leak into his other thoughts. “Are you doing alright? I thought you of all people would be used to this.”

“Not keen on tight spaces,” he grit out, his teeth likely bared in that dangerous way that made Adam’s hands curl into fists. “Now fucking stop for a minute.”

They sat in silence, nothing but their breaths filling the space between them. The silence must have started to grate on Ronan because he broke it first.

“It doesn’t happen all the time, you know.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m telling you.” Ronan breathed something that sounded like dumbass. “Once, when I was small and out in public with my father. Declan was there, too. I can’t remember much of it. That’s the only other time.”

“Suppose it’s as good a story as any,” Adam said, his voice just a hint louder than Ronan’s whisper had been. “Glad I can hear it trapped in this minuscule closet with you.”

“You’re the one with the foot digging into my hip, not the other way around.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to put it, Your Highness?” He nudged his foot and Ronan surged forward, clamping a hand around Adam’s mouth and the other clenching in Adam’s collar, practically hovering above where Adam stretched out uncomfortably. Adam much preferred this almost-fighting to their pretending to be friends.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to die today.” Adam tried shifting to free himself, but Ronan had a firm grip and he couldn’t gain any ground. Instead, he licked Ronan’s palm, and Ronan was quick to drop his hand in disgust with a quiet noise of discontent. He found himself pinned with one of Ronan’s glares, the intensity tangible even in the dark.

“I don’t want you to die either, you sodding idiot. I’m not the only one in here. You talking is ruining both of us.” “Clearly you’re not, this might actually be comfortable without you and your ridiculous, showy muscles. But I didn’t realize you cared, sugar,” he said, thinking fleetingly of his mother, “if I was breathing or not.”

“Right now, your life is tied very closely to mine, and so I do.”

“Sweet as honey,” Adam taunted, thickening his drawl. Most of the time he tried to school his words into something a little more Northern, but he enjoyed the way the southern accent bothered Ronan.

“No peace, none at all,” Ronan muttered. “Not even in the looming face of death.”

Adam could have said the same, really. The last thing he expected to see from Ronan while shoved into a dark closet with him was any genuine emotion. But the stories, the fear in the enclosed space, the story of his father-

His father. Of course.

“Was that story from your father?” He asked, although he already was sure of the answer.

Ronan’s response clipped. “Yes.”

His conscience was still mostly intact, and so Adam began to feel a little bad for picking a fight while in a stressful situation and then bringing up Ronan’s grief. “You’re a good storyteller.” Ronan’s silence was judgemental and disbelieving, so he persisted. “What, I can’t give a compliment? You are.”

“My siblings and I had stories read to us like everyone else, Parrish. We’re not programmed, bland colonialism robots.” A pause. “Well, Mathew and I aren’t.”

“Of course not, imperialism comes first.”

“You’re welcome for the country, then.”

A brief silence followed. It felt, inexplicably, like the two of them had been toeing a line ever since Adam stood outside of Ella’s door and heard Ronan speak to her. They were inching closer with every word spoken.

“My father was the real storyteller,” he admitted, and Adam internally marked another inch traveled. “Since he was an actor and all. He always told us those stories even though he wasn’t technically supposed to. I just...imitate.”

“Imitate?”

“Yes,” Ronan said, providing no other explanation. “Why do you give a damn, anyway? You don’t want childhood tales and neither do I. You hate me.”

“We’re stuck like this forever,” Adam admitted. He’d known it before, but speaking the words made them feel more real. “Neither of us likes it, but here we are, shoved in a closet together. We have to pull off this act for the rest of our lives, Ronan, and I need something more than a cheat sheet your PR team slapped together.”

Ronan was eerily still for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Then why do you hate me?”

The question caught Adam off guard. “What?”

“Why do you hate me?” Off of Adam’s wary look, he threw the words back in his face. “We’re stuck together just like you said. I need some kind of answer.”

Adam sighed, acquiescing. “Do you remember what you said in Rio?”

“The fuck are you talking about, Parrish?”

“The Olympics?”

“When you threatened to push me into the River Thames?”

“No. You being a condescending dick at diving finals.”

Ronan was still for a long moment before bringing a hand to his shoulder and easing himself back away and off of Adam. “Oh. Shit.”

“So. You remember?”

“Vaguely.” A pause, elongated in the dark. “You heard?”

“Yes.”

“So that did it, then?”

“Yes.”

But Ronan must have known he had more to say because he stayed silent.

“I probably would have hated you no matter what,” Adam finally admitted, some low part of his gut feeling heavier with the admission. “It’s just - I wasn’t even the First Son then, and everyone was already comparing us. And it didn’t matter if they thought I was better or you were better or whatever, it was just - the idea of you bothered me, a white boy born with the power to make such change and unquestioning support from millions who was throwing it all away instead. And I’ve been compared to a shit ton of people in my life, from my mother to Blue and Gansey to just - everyone, but somehow with you, it was always the worst. So yes, it was the diving finals.”

“But it was also you being self-conscious?”

“But it was also you being an asshole.”

“Yeah, it was,” Ronan admitted lowly, and Adam blinked at the admission. “I was - I definitely was one. I think I was one all the fucking time back then. It doesn’t excuse anything, but my father passed on...not long before, if you can understand.”

Adam didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, but he nodded all the same. He felt something in his throat tighten. “Of course. I don’t think I’d realized.”

“It doesn’t excuse it,” Ronan repeated. “I’m sorry.”

This was something heavier, truer than his other apologies - something beyond deeply-ingrained politeness that allowed him to apologize for petty things. It was as though he genuinely asked for forgiveness, like Adam had any real choice in the matter, like Adam’s forgiveness was something Ronan actually wanted. Adam never expected to receive a genuine apology from the Prince of England.

“I appreciate it. And I’m sorry as well. For...not realizing.” Ronan’s figure visibly relaxed even though it was barely visible.

“So, depressing Irish stories. Is that your default?”

“I’m afraid the Irish don’t have a lot of serotonin-filled stories.”

“There’s the English in you,” Adam said to a breathy laugh from Ronan. “Do you remember any more?”

“Probably couldn’t forget them, if we’re being honest. And not speaking to the press.”

“They hate me at the moment, so you have nothing to worry about.” He paused before he continued. “Would you tell one?”

“...why?”

“I don’t know. We’re stuck in here, aren’t we?”

“Be careful what you wish for. I’ll write you in as a Celtic witch.”

“I always thought I’d make a very dashing villainous magician. If that’s the price to pay, I can live with it.”

Ronan was silent, and Adam thought that he had given up on any conversation. However, he spoke again, his voice oddly light. “Once, the fierce Fianna believed in many things, none as much as the beautiful Eden laying in the Western Sea. Tir na nÒg, it was called, and the name passed between them like a secret.” Suddenly breaking character, Ronan said in his normal whisper, “That means “land of the living” for any uneducated parties.”

“Dick. Go on.”

There was something captivating in this new way Ronan spoke paired with the near-darkness and tight space of their closet. “Fionn, the leader of the Fianna-”

“Great naming process, by the way.”

“Shut the hell up or no story.”

Adam shut up.

“The leader of the Fianna led them to hunt the deer along the shores in County Kerry, including his son, Oisín. But Oisín soon caught sight of a single, bright light in the distance, all the way through the thick green of tree foliage. As it drew closer, he saw that the light was, instead, a beautiful girl with hair of spun gold astride a snow-colored mare. When Fionn inquired as to who she was, she informed them that she was Niamh of the Golden Hair, daughter of the King of Tir na nÒg, and she had come to take Oisín as her husband-”

Ronan cut off abruptly, and Adam almost asked why, but a moment later he heard the source of the silence - heavy footsteps outside the door. Suddenly, neither of them breathed, instead choosing to sit in total petrified silence.

And slowly, mercifully, the door crept open, spilling cold white light along the floor of the cupboard and across their splayed legs. Persephone stood in the doorway, her expression relaxed once again.

“False alarm,” she said breezily, reaching out her hands to haul them back to their feet. Adam shifted uncomfortably on pins and needles as his legs shot back to life. “Fireworks, not guns.”

“Fireworks in a hospital?”

Persephone shrugged. “It was some teenager.”

“Always is,” Ronan said, dangerously close to a joke. He blinked rapidly, setting his shoulders back to stand at his full height. He slanted a look towards Adam, his mouth curving into something wicked but not intimidating, all bark and no bite. “Bonding is over, then.”

“Thank God.”

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writingmyselfout · 3 years

Text

Because I Could Not Stop for Death - Chapter Four

Language: English

Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Reptilia28′s Don’t Fear the Reaper Challenge, Manipulative Dumbledore, Black Hermione Granger, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing

Prologue 1 2 3

Chapter 4: Writing on the Wall

Summary: Off to Hogwarts

2 August 1991

DEAR Draco,

Sorry if this is messy. I thought I’d practice writing with a quill. It’s easier than I thought it’d be, but messier to. I have to remember not to leave the tip on the paper or it leaves big smudges.

What was the name of the restorant restaurant we went to lunch to? The cake at that place was the best I’ve had! I hope the food at Hogwarts is that good too. I can’t wait for classes to start. I’ve been reading a few of the books in the meantime. I decided to name my owl Hedwig, after a witch I read about in A History of Magic .

Will you be taking the train too? If you aren’t already sitting with friends, maybe we can sit together? If that’s okay, of course. You’ll be the only person I know so far. If you’ve got other friends sitting with you already no worries. I guess I’m just nervous. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape told me about being famous, but I didn’t realize what they meant until I saw people’s reaction to hearing my name and seeing me. Do you think it will be the same at school?

Write back soon please!

Harry Potter

4 August 1991

Dear Harry,

Practice writing with a quill? Do you mean you’ve never used a quill before? What were you using to write until now?

The Copper Crup was the name. Mother would take me there for my birthday because their food is of much better quality than most of the others around. Of course, they have nothing on what our House elves can prepare at home, but it’s nice to go out sometimes, as Mother points out.

Mother and Father have said they have gotten me an owl from a breeder to take with me to Hogwarts. I haven’t seen him yet, but I think I’ll name him Vespid, after the most famous Wimbourne Wasps Beater.

Of course I’ll be taking the Hogwarts Express. All students have to take the train. Some of the others starting in our year I think expect me to sit with them since our parents are friends. Father probably wants me to, since their families are part of the Sacred 28. You can probably sit with us. Some of them are kind of dumb, though.

Did you really not know you are famous? Have you been living under a rock? Forget just school, or even England. Every witch and wizard in the WORLD knows who you are! They write an article about you every year in the Daily Prophet.

Draco Malfoy

5 August 1991

Draco,

They write a WHAT about me every year? What’s the Daily Prophet? Is that like a newspaper for wizards? I thought I was just a normal, non-magical kid for years. I live with non-magical family, and they don’t like to talk about magic. But after what you said, I looked at more recent years. Did you know I’m mentioned in our A History of Magic book? Only a small bit, I guess ‘cause they don’t know anything else, but it’s embaressing. Embarassing? I can’t remember how to write that.

I guess if you’re used to quills, maybe you’ve never heard of a pen? It’s what non-magical folks use. It’s a big of plastic with ink inside of it and a metal tip to write with. Or pencils, which is wood. I’ve sent one of each over for you ‘cause I think it’d be easier than trying to explain in writing.

It doesn’t sound like you like those other kids. Do you have to sit with them? Can we move seats during the trip? Maybe you can sit with them for a little while and then leave.

But what do you mean, their families are sacred? What are House elves? I remember what you said Beaters did, but who was Vespid? Sorry if my questions are dumb. There’s so much I don’t know. But if my questions bother you, I’ll stop asking them.

Harry Potter

8 August 1991

Harry,

You live with Muggles? No wonder you don’t know anything! I can’t imagine growing up with no magic. How terrible. Lucky for you, I know all there is to know.

The Daily Prophet is the wizarding world newspaper. It gets delivered by owl every day. House elves are magical servants, but only older, more magical families have them. Most of the Sacred 28 do, anyway. The Sacred 28 are the oldest, pureblood wizarding families, and a lot of them are very important. None, of course, more than the Malfoys. Father is on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, and he knows the Minister of Magic personally. Mother says that because of that, I must be careful with who I become friends with, as they might be trying to get close to me so their parents can get closer to Father, or because we’re wealthy.

It will probably be the same for you, since you’re famous. Mother said the Potters were very wealthy, too, when I asked. Did you inherit everything? Are you and your Muggles relatives living at the Potter estate?

Most importantly, we must do something about how little you know about Quidditch. Elric Vespid was a Beater for the Wasps something like 600 years ago. He hit a wasps’ nest so hard at the Appleby Arrows’ Seeker that he retired, and it’s why the team became known as the Wasps. I have sent over my favorite book, Quidditch Through the Ages. It will tell you all you need to know about the game. Mother says it’s polite to return gifts when you’re given something, so consider it a thanks for what you sent me. I have never seen a pen or pencil before. They’re strange. I think I prefer a quill.

If there’s no magic at your house, what do you do for fun?

Draco Malfoy

11 August 1991

Hey Draco,

Thank you for the book! I’ve read it all. I can’t wait to see a real game.

Muggles aren’t all bad. But you should probably never meet my family. They are pretty terrible. If they’re the first Muggles any witch or wizard meets, they’d never want to meet another ever again and I wouldn’t blame them. They’re the worst, really. But my mum’s parents were Muggles, and I’ve mostly only known Muggles.

Wow, is your dad really that important? You must’ve been surprised when I didn’t know who you were then! It sucks you have to worry about people being friends with you only ‘cause of your dad or your family’s money. I hope we can both make friends who don’t care and just want to be our friends ‘cause they like us , you know?

As for what my parents left me, I actually only found out at Gringotts right before meeting you that they left me a lot of money. I had no idea before, but I guess technically, I am wealthy now? But I don’t know anything about an estate. I tried to ask my aunt and uncle, but like always, they didn’t really give me an answer. I think they don’t actually know, ‘cause if they knew about how much money they’d left me, I’m sure they’d have tried to take it. My uncle actually said my dad wouldn’t have had anything to give me worth writing a will for. Can you believe it? I decided not to tell them anything. Maybe the professors can help me look into it.

How cool would it be to find out there’s some big ol’ house somewhere they left me?

Harry Potter

With letters to read and respond to every few days, the month of August flies by for Harry. It helps that aside from when he first came by and his aunt informed him he was to move his things to the upstairs spare bedroom, his family has mostly ignored him. Their daily interactions were limited to letting him know meals are ready, and one time when Uncle Vernon told Harry to stop letting his owl come in and out of the bedroom before the neighbors noticed. Hedwig was less than pleased with the restriction, but Harry opts to avoid any issues by only letting her out at night.

Draco’s letters were an insight into the world he would be entering in a way that reading through his books could not provide.Occasionally, his comments about Muggles or Muggle-borns, directly or what seems to be implied, make him pause. Harry tries to avoid complaining about the Dursleys once he notices, because he doesn’t think it helps his case when he tries to explain to Draco that Muggles aren’t all bad.

After all, Harry isn’t exactly Muggle-born, but his mother was, and he feels like he may as well be when he grew up knowing nothing about magic. It makes him wonder if others think the same, or if maybe Draco grew up in a family similar to the Dursleys in that they hated people who were different. It meant either having an entire world that might think less of his mom if she were alive, or having a friend who might have a lot more in common with his dreaded cousin than he’d hoped. Harry prefers to not worry about it now and just enjoy having someone his own age to talk to for the time being.

He’ll worry about everything else once school begins.

~~~

DRACO wakes up on the first of September practically vibrating with excitement, and much earlier than needed, as the sun is only just beginning to lighten the sky outside his window. It’s not as large as the one in his room back at Malfoy Manor, but this residence is in London, and therefore much closer to King’s Cross Station, where he’ll need to be in a few short hours. He calls for a House Elf to ready a bath for him and is a whirl of movement as he double checks his trunks to ensure that nothing was forgotten when the House Elves finished packing it the night before. They didn’t, of course, but he needs to move, to do something, or he feels like he might explode.

He’s been waiting his whole life to go to Hogwarts. He’s imagined grand adventures and wow-ing other students with his natural talents at magic and Quidditch, and winning the House Cup for Slytherin for the next seven years. Sure, now that he knows he’ll be going to school with the Harry Potter, he realizes that maybe he won’t be the most popular, but he’s basically made the most famous kid in school his best friend before anyone else has even met him! So they’ll just be the most popular students together.

The Malfoys had hosted an end of summer party to celebrate the incoming class of Slytherins a week before the term was to begin. Such get-togethers was really an excuse for the parents to talk privately of whatever matters adults spoke of, while the children basically bragged and attempted to ingratiate themselves with whoever their parents had told them to, often those present considered one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, or pestered the older among them to tell them more about Hogwarts.

This specific gathering had only those whose families had children of Draco’s age and would be attending Hogwarts for the first time. Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott, Gemma Runcorn, and Daphne Greengrass--with her little sister Astoria in tow--were all expected to be sorted into Slytherin with Draco. They talked about what they expected based on information gleaned from older Slytherin students they knew, or some of the wild rumors they couldn’t seem to get confirmation or denial about, such as the Sorting being a test of skills. It quickly devolved into comparing the quality and price of the things they would be bringing to school.

“Did you know,” Pansy suddenly piped up, interrupting Daphne Greengrass bragging about robes she’d gotten in Paris over the summer for school, “that Harry Potter is supposed to be starting this year too?”

A new round of rumors and speculations they’d overheard from their parents were shared. Draco had been tempted to tell them that he had met the famous Boy Who Lived, the elusive child celebrity no one had ever seen. At least not accurately. The Daily Prophet had an artist rendering every year when they ran their anniversary article about the end of the Wizarding War, but the only description that anyone knew to be accurate was the lightning bolt scar on Harry Potter’s forehead.

Instead he had kept it to himself, thinking it would be much funnier to present his good friend Harry Potter to them all on the Hogwarts Express. Imagining their expressions had delighted him, and as he gets ready, still brings a grin to his face. It helps to pass the time, which seems to drag on as he waits for it to be time to leave. Once his parents are awake and breakfast is served, though, it seems to be no time at all before they are at the station.

They aren’t the first ones there, although he thinks if he had rushed his parents through breakfast, they might have managed it. Draco is certain his mother, who would normally only allow them to be either promptly on-time or fashionably late, is indulging his excitement. Being early means he practically has his pick of compartments. He opts for one in the middle, the House Elf that accompanied them puts his trunk in the compartment for him before disappearing back to Malfoy Manor, and then he goes to say goodbye to his parents. He allows his mother to fuss over him, smoothing his hair back and adjusting his robes as he tries not to impatiently look around. Even his parents are in for a surprise, as he has only told them that he’s been writing to the student he met at Diagon Alley with the Slytherin Head of House, Professor Snape, but not who that student is.

“Lucius!”

The Malfoy family turns as one to the voice calling. Mr. Parkinson is heading over, wife and daughter in tow. He’s pushing a cart with two trunks, presumably Pansy’s. It’s left to one side as the parents start talking, and Pansy comes over to Draco’s side, asking if he’s picked a compartment and where, so she can go sit with him.

Draco doesn’t particularly want to sit with any of the girls he knows. For one, in his small experience, they tend to get bored with talk of Quidditch. For another, the compartments look like they’d fit about four to six comfortably, which means there’s just enough room for him, Harry, Theodore, and likely Vincent and Gregory, and still be able to sit one more. But if Pansy joins them, she’ll want at least one other girl to come, and then they’ll be over by one or squished in together.

So he lies. ““Somewhere towards the front.” He makes a vague gesture, glad that his mother, if she notices, doesn’t correct him even though he knows she kept an eye on where he went when he boarded. Narcissa Malfoy always knows where Draco is at all times.

Pansy nods her head, intercepting Crabbe and Goyle when they head over to get their help with her trunk. Ordering them, really, and Draco realizes that since she got to them first, they don’t know where he’s really sitting. Ah well, he’ll have to try to catch them on their own otherwise they’ll just have to sit with Pansy the whole trip.

Hoping to catch Theodore before Pansy does so he can at least give him the right compartment, he suddenly catches sight of a familiar figure coming through the barrier from the Muggle side of King’s Cross station.

“Oh, he’s here!” Draco announces, catching the attention the adults with the outburst. Before either of his parents can react, Draco is off, weaving his way through the crowd.

Harry is moving slowly, pushing the cart with his heavy trunk and his caged owl, fascinated with the sight before him. He’d known, logically, that the professors wouldn’t have lied to him about how to get to the platform. It hadn’t prevented him from feeling like he was going to crash into a solid wall and cause a scene as he moved towards the barrier. He’s surprised and delighted to instead find a whole hidden section of the station. There are people all around, adults saying goodbye to their children, students greeting each other and gathering in small groups, and then there’s a blond boy standing in front of him, bringing Harry to an abrupt stop.

“There you are,” Draco says by way of greeting. “What took you so long?”

“Hey! We left a bit later than I’d hoped,” Harry explains. “It’s like a two to three hour drive for us. How’d you get here?”

“We have a London residence,” Draco explains, his tone suggesting that this should be obvious. “And of course, with Father’s connections, we got a Ministry car to drive us. Come on then, my parents will want to meet you before we board.”

Harry follows after Draco, slowing his steps when he gets a good look at the group awaiting them. He recognizes Mrs. Malfoy from the glimpse he got of her at Diagon Alley, and Draco’s practically the spitting image of his father, so it’s easy to figure out which is Mr. Malfoy. The rest of the adults, however, he can’t begin to guess who they are. What’s more, all eyes are on him and although he’d tried to remind himself that morning that this might happen once people realized who he was, there’s something distinctly unnerving about the way he’s being watched right now. They leave his cart by the train entrance, just to the side so as to not be in anyone’s way, and then Draco leads him over to the group watching them.

“Mother, Father.” Draco stops in front of his parents. “This is the boy I met at Diagon Alley, Harry Potter. Harry, my parents Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.”

“H-How do you do?” Harry mutters, trying to stand still under their scrutiny.

“Why, Mr. Harry Potter. This is a pleasant surprise,” Mr. Malfoy says, smiling. It’s not a very friendly look. “How exciting for the students of Hogwarts to get to go to school with the wizarding world’s biggest hero.”

Something about the way Mr. Malfoy says it makes Harry feel like he’s being insulted or mocked to his face. “I, uh, I should put my stuff on the train.”

Harry forces a smile, and then starts to move towards the train. He’s sure it’s his imagination, but he is certain he can feel their gaze on his back and he’s distinctly uncomfortable. He has a hard time trying to explain to himself what it is about these adults that makes him want to flee, as it’s not quite the instinctual knowing he’s occasionally felt since the day he received his Hogwarts letter. But it’s close enough that, as trusting his instincts thus far with the wizarding world has turned out in his favor, he thinks he would be better off leaving their company as soon as possible.

“Hold on.” Draco hurries after him. “Go right from here, and it’s the fourth one down. My trunks have the Malfoy crest on them.”

He’s basically being ordered, which might have bothered him if he weren’t so desperate to get away right now. Harry instead just nods before he grabs Hedwig’s cage, deciding to get her inside first and moving the heavier trunk once he knows for sure where he’s going. Finding Draco’s trunk with his family crest, an image he’d grown accustomed to seeing pressed into the wax Draco used to seal his letters, was rather easy. He set Hedwig’s cage inside, and then went back to get his trunk. He pauses briefly before stepping out, hoping to avoid notice, but a group of students coming off the train block him from view for a few moments as they stand around just a few steps away.

Quick as he can, he grabs his trunk and starts to try to single handedly drag it up. “Need a hand?”

Harry looks over his shoulder to find a tall, lanky redhead. “Oh, uh, yeah. That’d be great.”

The redhead looks back down the train and yells out, “Oy! Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!” Looking back at Harry, the boy waved him away before coming around to grab one end of the trunk. When another, identical redhead appears, he grabs the other without question and the two lift the trunk onto the train.

Harry quickly follows, directing them over to the right compartment. There’s an eyebrow raised at seeing the crest on the trunks already there, but they simply lift Harry’s trunk before nodding at him.

“There you go, firstie. All set.”

“Thanks,” Harry replies, pushing his glasses up.

He stands out of their way to allow them to leave the compartment, debating on whether to introduce himself or not. Before he can decide, one of them seems to take a closer look, hitting the other’s arm suddenly. “Hey, is that a scar? You wouldn’t happen to be--”

“Harry!”

Harry turns around briefly to see Draco approaching, but his attention is drawn back to the twins as one says, “Well, we’ll be off then!”

“Oh, okay, bye!”

“The train will be leaving soon,” Draco tells Harry, eyes watching the twins leave for a moment before looking over at him. “I only saw a few of my friends, so I think they might be sitting with Pansy. I told her I was towards the front so she wouldn’t sit with us, but I think she told them the same, so they might be with her.”

Harry frowns a little, thinking he doesn’t want to have to try to move his trunk. “Did you want to move over to where they are?” he asks.

“Hm, no,” Draco responds after a moment’s consideration. “I’ll tell them I’m back here, see if they want to move. Do you want to come with me to find them?”

“I think I’ll sit with Hedwig, I don’t think she’s used to all this activity yet.” It’s an excuse, when really Harry just doesn’t think he’s up for another group of people staring at him just yet, but when he looks over at his owl she seems to understand and starts flapping her wings and hooting loudly. “I should probably sit with her until she’s calmed down.”

Draco shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back.”

Harry closes the compartment door, goes and then sits down, reaching a finger into Hedwig’s cage to stroke her head. “Thanks.”

She hoots at him once in reply before settling down. Harry turns to look out of the window, the panel above open so he can hear the sounds of the crowd of parents and students, many of them starting to say their goodbyes. The platform is starting to clear, an indication that they’ll be departing soon. A flash of red catches his eye, and he sees a group of redheads, only just visible as they stand a little ways down from his compartment

He thinks for a moment it might be one of the twins, but decides what he can see of them isn’t quite right. This boy is shorter, though the hair is the right shade. The woman standing with him speaks up, and Harry can hear them clearly.

“All right, Ron, you be sure to behave. Listen to Percy and, what’s that on your nose? Come here.”

A younger boy jerks into view as he pulls away from the woman. “ Mom , geroff!”

The twins appear then, and with them standing together, Harry notes the resemblance. He listens to them joke and tease the younger boy, who grows obviously more annoyed and sullen with the teasing, and then yet another boy appears. He’s already changed into his robe with a badge on his chest, and the twins start to tease him about being a prefect as well. Harry thinks it’s rather nice, to come from a family close enough to tease like that, even if the twins’ siblings seem to be annoyed by it. The one already in his robes allowed their mother to kiss his cheek, said goodbye to someone outside of Harry’s line of sight, and then seemed to board again.

That was when one of the twins said, “Oh, guess who we just met on the train, Mom?”

“Who?”

“Harry Potter !”

The one out of sight suddenly piped up, and it sounded like a little girl, her voice carrying as she loudly begged to be allowed on the train to see him. Harry leaned away from the window then, hoping to stay out of sight. How embarrassing would it be to be caught eavesdropping on them as they started to talk about him?

“No, Ginny, the train is about to leave. You can’t get on,” the boys’ mother responded, cutting off the little girl’s begging. “Are you sure, Fred?”

“Pretty sure,” was the response. “Saw a bit of a scar on his forehead. Malfoy’s kid called him ‘Harry’, too.”

“Malfoy ?” The way the woman said the name made Harry frown automatically, not wanting someone to say anything bad about his only friend. Then he remembered Lucius Malfoy’s smile and thought perhaps, if that’s who she was thinking of when she said it, the reaction might be warranted. “Are they friends, do you think?”

“Who knows? Maybe they just met? Anyway, we should be getting on, Mum. We’ll know for sure during Sorting. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be a Gryffindor!”

“Be sure to let me know,” she tells them. “Try to befriend him if he is, okay? Poor thing, being an orphan raised goodness knows where or with who, he could probably use all the friends he can get.”

Harry decides to close the window, distinctly uncomfortable with hearing the obvious pity, and not particularly interested in hearing any more. Especially since the little girl starts to cry, half-pleading and half-demanding to be allowed to go with her brothers or at least be allowed to get on and see Harry. It sounds like the beginning of a tantrum, at least in his experience based on his cousin’s tried and true methods, so he is relieved that closing the window prevents him from hearing the rest of it.

What he is able to hear, loud and clear, is the train's whistle as it goes off to announce their departure. Outside, it looks like there are no more students on the platform, instead just a few parents and younger siblings, waving at students in other windows before leaving or waiting to see the train off.

The door to the compartment opens as the train starts to move, and the youngest of the redheads is standing there. He’s taller than he appeared while standing outside, Harry notes absently. Ron, as they’d called him, starts to back out with an apology when he suddenly stops, staring at Harry.

“Are you him?” he asks.

Harry blinks at him for a moment, surprised. “Who?”

“Harry Potter?”

“Oh, him. I mean, yeah, that’s me.”

His eyes go over to the trunks, and he frowns. Harry follows the direction he’s looking at and realizes it’s Draco’s trunks that have drawn that reaction. “I’m Ron Weasley. Are you really friends with the Malfoys’ kid?” Blue eyes lower again to meet Harry’s gaze. “You shouldn’t be, you know. Just warning ya, they’re-”

“We’re what?” Behind Ron stands Draco, arms crossed, scowling.The redhead half turns, still standing in the compartment doorway.

“Draco’s my friend,” Harry interrupts before either can say anything. “So can you step aside so he can come sit down?”

Draco doesn’t wait for the other to obey, basically shoving him aside to come in and sit across from Harry. He gives him a smug look, crossing his arms as he waits to see what he’s going to do. He knows this kid’s type, trying to ingratiate himself with someone better than him. Clearly, he thinks, Harry can spot the type too.

“Weasley, you said, right?” Draco drawls. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

The stubborn look that comes over the other’s face makes Harry think that this might turn into a bigger confrontation when one of the twins comes by. “There you are, Ron. Are you bothering people?”

“Yes,” Draco announces instantly, frowning at seeing another redhead.

“Really, Ron, can’t leave you alone for a second.” The other twin appears, grabbing the youngest sibling by looping an arm around his neck and dragging him back away from the door. “Come on, you. You’re with us; Mum’s orders.”

“We didn’t introduce ourselves earlier,” says the remaining twin. “I’m Fred Weasley, that was George--” the other twin, clearly still within earshot yells a hello “--and that was our brother Ron. Our fault for telling him Harry Potter was here. He’s not used to meeting famous people. Consider him an overzealous fan.”

Harry blushes at the reminder. “Uh, no, no worries. Nice to meet you. Thanks for the help earlier.”

“No worries.” George waves a hand dismissively. “We’ll see you later. Oy, Fred! You just passed our compartment!”

The compartment door is closed behind them, and Draco shakes his head. “Weasley, the youngest one, clearly wanted to be friends with you because you’re famous. Like I wrote you, you’ll run into those types all over. Who knows, maybe the twins were in on it too.”

“You think?” Harry considers it for a moment then shrugs. “George and Fred seemed nice even before they knew who I was earlier. As for their brother, well, I just don’t like people talking about my friends. Or telling me what to do. If he wanted to be friends, he should’ve just said so.”

Draco is surprised at Harry’s reasoning, and starts laughing. “You’re weird, you know that?”

“What happened with your friends?” Harry asks when Draco’s done laughing.

“Ah, I ran into Theodore. Pansy convinced them I’d be sitting with her so they sat in her compartment. I told him we’d be back here, but it’s fine. They were being rather loud anyway. And this way, we don’t have to worry about Crabbe and Goyle trying to steal any snacks we buy. They’re always hungry.”

“Their names are Crabbe and Goyle?”

“Family names,” Draco clarifies.

“Why do you call some of them by their first name and some by their last?”

“Ah, it’s considered polite to only address those you’re close with by their first name, and everyone else by their last name.”

“Oh, so when I wrote you that first letter, it should have said ‘Malfoy’ instead of ‘Draco’?” Harry wonders aloud.

Draco shrugs. “Well, yes, but it’s fine. I realized since you were raised with Muggles, you probably didn’t know any better.”

“I think it’s less because I grew up with Muggles, and more that your family is super upper class,” Harry argues. “That sounds like the kind of rule rich people have.”

“Hm, maybe.” Draco thinks it over, never having thought of it like that. “Although,” he points out after a moment, “didn’t your parents leave you a bunch of money? So you’re rich, too.”

“Honestly, I still forget,” Harry admits. “I’ve never really had my own money to buy whatever.”

There was a knock on the door and then a woman opened the compartment door with a dimpled smile asking if they wanted anything from the cart she was pushing.

Draco grins. “Well, here’s your chance to spend some, then.”

Harry jumps up, more than a little hungry after skipping breakfast, only to realize he wasn’t familiar with any of the snacks on offer. “Wow, I’ve never seen any of these.”

“Are you joking?” Draco shakes his head, answering himself. “No, of course you’re not. We’ll just have to take some of everything then.”

Harry insists on paying, and then dumps the giant load on the seat next to Draco, sitting on the same side so the snacks are piled between them. Draco insists on letting him have the box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, laughing loudly when Harry immediately eats a green one he’d assumed would be apple or lime flavored only for it to turn out to be grass. The Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties are great follow-ups to recover from the strange jelly bean. When Harry opens a Chocolate Frog before Draco can explain it will jump, he’s so amused he opens a couple of the other ones, both of them laughing as the compartment is momentarily filled with half a dozen hopping frogs. All but one have stopped when the door opens and a round-faced boy is momentarily caught off guard when it suddenly jumps at him.

“Trevor?” He pulls the treat off the front of his robe where it jumps and visibly deflates at seeing it’s just chocolate. “Oh, no. Have you seen a toad? I can’t find mine.”

Harry shakes his head, smiling. “A toad? No. Sorry.” Draco shakes his head as well, and the boy leaves.

Once he’s gone, Draco starts looking through the cards, showing them to Harry and explaining what they are when he realizes it’s yet another thing the Boy Who Lived knows nothing about. He’s highly amused at Harry’s surprise when, right before his eyes, Merlin stretches and then moves out of frame. But it’s Harry’s reaction to seeing the Albus Dumbledore, frowning down at it as he studies it, that piques Draco’s interest.

“What is it?”

Harry looks up at him, shrugging as he puts the card aside with the others he’d gotten. “Ah, no, I was just surprised. I’ve heard of Albus Dumbledore, but it’s the first I’m seeing of him.” Harry stops, wondering if he should explain the feeling of distrust that comes over him at hearing the name--and now seeing --Albus Dumbledore, but not quite sure how to explain himself. He has no frame of reference for what might be weird in the wizarding world, so he doesn’t know if this sense of déjà vu he gets is normal or not. “He’s older than I expected,” he finishes lamely.

“He’s pretty famous too,” Draco informs him. “Father doesn’t like him.”

Harry’s tempted to ask for more info but they’re once again interrupted by someone opening the door. The boy who’d asked about the toad is back, standing behind the girl who’d opened the door. She has brown skin, bushy brown hair, and brown eyes that look around the room, taking in both boys, the owl, and the pile of wrappers and uneaten snacks quickly before gazing back at the boys. When she speaks, her large front teeth stand out, and her tone is distinctively bossy, but something about her is so familiar that it takes Harry a moment to put together what she’s said.

He is too busy realizing that the same sense he’d gotten from Draco back in Diagon Alley, that had prompted him to befriend him, is coming over him again twofold. Somehow, he knows that Draco might be his first friend, but this girl was going to be his best friend. He should probably look into why he gets these feelings at all.

“Have either of you seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.”

Draco sighs. “Harry already told him we haven’t. It’s just a toad anyway.”

“Harry? As in Harry Potter?” the girl asks, eyes moving from Draco over to Harry. Blinking, Harry just nods. “I’m Hermione Granger and this is Neville Longbottom. I know all about you. You’re mentioned in our History of Magic book, of course, but I got some extra books for background reading and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts , as well as Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century .”

Harry stares, surprised, looks over at Draco who shrugs, then back at her. “Am I?”

“Didn’t you know? I’d have learned all I could if it were me,” she announces.

“Yes, well, it’s not. Shouldn’t you be off looking for a toad?” Draco reminds her.

Hermione frowns at Draco. “No need to be rude. Who are you?”

“Draco Malfoy. We need to change since we’ll likely arrive soon, so leave already,” Draco orders.

“Draco.” Harry shakes his head at him, then looks back at Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. “I’ll keep an eye out for the toad, but we haven’t seen ‘em.”

“All right, thank you.” She starts to close the door, telling Neville, “Come on, let’s ask them down there.”

“Longbottom’s family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” Draco says after they’ve left. “Granger, on the other hand, is probably Muggle-born . They really shouldn’t be letting any of them into Hogwarts, I think. Keep it in the old wizarding families.”

“What?” Harry challenges. “Why does it matter?”

Draco stares at him for a moment like he can’t believe he’s asking. “They’re just not the same! They’re not brought up to know our ways or anything.”

“Neither have I,” Harry points out, then reminds his friend, “And my parents might have been a witch and wizard, but my mum was a Muggle-born. If she hadn’t been accepted at Hogwarts, my parents wouldn’t have met and I wouldn’t be here.”

Draco is about to say something more to defend his point, but he closes his mouth with an audible click at this reminder. He wants to push back, make Harry understand why Muggle-borns just aren’t the same, but he can’t think of how to do so without sounding like he’s insulting Harry’s mother. If Harry got annoyed with Ron for seeming to insult Draco, a friend he’s only just made, chances are insulting his mum is a surefire way to make him angry.

They change without exchanging another word, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Harry, wondering how he can get his friend to understand why his way of thinking is wrong. Draco, trying to think of a way to get through to Harry that pureblood witches and wizards are superior. It’s an awkward silence, and when they’ve finished changing, neither seems sure of what to say or how to change the subject. Finally, at a voice announcing they’re about to arrive and are to leave their luggage on the train, they decide to divvy up the remaining snacks and stuff them into their pockets.

When the train stops, they shuffle out into the corridor and make their way onto the platform outside. The night is cooler here, farther up in the north, and Harry hopes they aren’t going to be outside for long. It’s with relief that he recognizes the booming voice calling for first years. When Hagrid spots him and greets him, Harry’s mood is instantly lifted.

Draco is standing next to him still, and by the way he’s looking around Harry thinks he might be trying to find his other friends. He wonders if their brief friendship is due to be over already. Still, Harry nudges him and nods his head towards Hagrid and the lamp he’s holding as he calls the first years over before heading over. He doesn’t want Draco to think he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, but he also doesn’t know if now that he’s been reminded that Harry’s parentage isn’t as “pure” as his own, if he’ll want to stay friends. All he can do is act like he normally would and leave Draco to make his own choice.

Hagrid leads them all down through a slippery dark path down to the edge of a large lake where they all get a glimpse of the castle for the first time. He gives them all a moment before announcing they’re to get into boats, keeping to 4 per boat, and he waves Harry over clearly to join him. When he reaches Hagrid, he’s holding up a toad he’s just found. Neville Longbottom cries out the toad’s name, rushing forward to claim the animal, and Hermione Granger comes following after him at a slower pace. It’s clear they’re going to also join Hagrid’s boat, and so Harry assumes even if he’d been inclined to join, chances are Draco will take one look at who else is there and opt to sit with his friends instead.

It seems all the more certain when after getting in the boat, Harry spots Ron Weasley making a beeline for their boat to claim the last spot.

So he’s surprised when Draco materializes in front of him, climbing in and muttering, “Mark my words, Potter. Longbottom is going to let that toad go and knock us all in the water trying to catch him.”

“Hope you know how to swim then, Malfoy,” Harry answers with a grin.

Then they’re off across the lake, making their way towards the glittering castle on the other side.

Story Notes:

Title is from a Pink Floyd song.

#Because I Could Not Stop for Death fic #BICNSFD #Harmony fanfic #HP fanfic #Harry Potter

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