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quickspinner · 4 years

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Sorry Not Sorry

The first one didn’t seem to work quite right, so I’m reposting this separately...sorry if you saw it twice!

From the @mlweeklyprompts

A: You kissed me. B: You kissed me back. B: And I’m not here to apologize.

The tension was thick and felt foreign on the open air of the Liberty’s upper deck, a place where she’d always felt safe and calm and...free.

Loved.

Luka was leaning against the rail, staring not at her, but at the deck between his feet.

“You kissed me,” he said quietly.

“I did,” she said, with more confidence than she felt. This was just wrong. Usually he was the one with the steady gaze and she was the one who couldn’t look at him. This was all just...so wrong. “You kissed me back,” she pointed out, and Luka groaned, putting his hands over his face. “And...I’m not here to apologize. Not for kissing you. For a thousand other things, but. Not that. I’m not sorry, Luka. I’m sorry about the timing, I’m sorry it upset you so much, and most of all I’m sorry that I waited so long. I’m sorry for taking you for granted, and dragging you back into it when you thought you’d moved on, when that—when moving on was something you apparently wanted so badly, but—”

“I haven’t moved on,” Luka mumbled from behind his hands.

“S-sorry?” Marinette said, blinking. She couldn’t have heard that right.

Luka took his hands from his face and leaned them back on the rail with a white-knuckled grip. “I haven’t moved on. It’s true that I wanted to, and I’ve been trying, but I haven’t. I’m still as in love with you as I ever was. If I’d moved on I would have just asked you to stop and told you that door was closed. But i didn’t do that.”

He hadn’t done that, it was true. He’d kissed her back so hard they’d fallen back against the wall. Heedless of his stage makeup or the fact that he had to perform in minutes, he’d kissed her like it would kill him to stop, until he finally pulled back with an expression so tortured that she felt a physical pain in her chest.

Then he’d gone on stage and delivered the most moving, emotional, heart-wrenching performance she’d ever heard. Everyone had loved it and the merch they’d brought with them sold out.

Marinette still wasn’t sure whether that was a good sign or not. He could have kissed her back for a million reasons in that moment. Luka was Luka and so she didn’t think it was just...revenge, or entitlement, or any of the darker options that occurred to her as she lay in bed simultaneously horrified at herself and incredibly proud of him and how far he’d come as a man and an artist.

Luka took a slow breath, bringing her back to the moment, and the slump in his shoulders, the way he curled in on himself a little bit, made her heart beat for all the wrong reasons. Why was she always the one hurting him? Why couldn’t she be for him the way he was for her? Why was it she couldn’t seem to give him anything but pain?

“Stop it,” he said, closing his eyes though he still hadn’t looked at her. “I can hear you spiraling from here.”

“Sorry,” Marinette whispered again, and her breath hitched, and no, no, this was all wrong, she was supposed to come here and be mature and sensible like he was, and say all the right things and make him feel the way he’d always made her feel, like his love was a gift and not a burden, that he offered it only when it would be a comfort and a help to her.

She was not supposed to come here and cry and make him put aside his own feelings yet again to comfort her in a situation that was entirely of her own making. Marinette couldn’t fathom how Luka had managed all these years. Had he really not felt any of this? Was his love really that pure, or was he just better at hiding the pain than she was?

She half expected to feel Luka’s arms coming around her even now, but she didn’t. He wouldn’t, not at a time like this. His love had always included forgiveness for her mistakes, but he’d never once stopped her from taking responsibility for them. She struggled for a moment more, and at least that much he was willing to give her, the time to get herself together to do the right thing.

Marinette wiped her eyes quickly with her thumb and straightened her back and shoulders, lifting her chin. “I’m sorry for my bad timing. I know how much your stage career means to you and I should have been more sensitive, even though you handled it...amazingly.” She gave him a quick smile but he still wasn’t looking at her. “I was wrong to let my emotions get the better of me in that moment. I should have waited and talked to you at a better time instead of just jumping you in the heat of the moment.”

Luka raised his head a little, still looking off at the lights over the river rather than at her, and she could see him swallow and sigh, and if she’d been making that face it would have come with tears.

Marinette took a deep breath, and continued, determined to get through what she had to say. “I didn’t—I want you to know, this isn’t because you’ve been pulling away. I understand why you did and that you needed it. I’m not going to say I didn’t realize how important you were to me because I did. You’ve always, always been important. I’ve always loved you on a level that—it wasn’t romantic, it didn’t start out that way, but as a—as a—” She didn’t know how to finish that. She didn’t want to hurt him the way she’d been hurt, and it wasn’t right to call him a brother either. “Confidant,” she said, finally. “Someone who protected me and was there for me...I don’t know how to say it—”

Luka shook his head slightly. “You don’t have to. I’ve always known that.”

Marinette nodded slowly. Of course he did.

“I don’t really know when it started to be something else,” she said quietly. “I was...I was busy, you were busy, there was no, no time, no good moment, and then you were dating and I thought, I didn’t...I didn’t want to get in the way if that was what you wanted, and then...and then you weren’t dating and then you were and…” She stopped abruptly, suddenly aware Luka was cringing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She didn’t know the details of his relationships or why they had ended. She hadn’t felt like she had the right to ask, and the one time she had even hinted in that direction to Juleka, the look Juleka gave her said that Juleka thought so too.

However, Marinette wasn’t stupid and she knew Luka. She knew that Luka was a compassionate person who believed in honesty and communication, and he might not have named names but none of the people he dated were stupid, either. She’d found herself drawing back just to ease the strain on Luka. Apparently, it was much easier to accept that he was trying to move past feelings for someone else than it was to accept that he still worked closely with that person. Marinette had quietly offered to step down as his personal stylist and Luka had refused so simply and matter-of-factly that she hadn’t had the guts to push harder.

“I thought, I should be flattered,” he said softly, shifting his weight. “That they were all so sure you were in love with me too and it was only a matter of time before you confessed and I dumped them. I thought I knew you well enough that I would have seen it.” He finally looked at her then, sadly. “Now I’m wondering when I stopped being able to read you. When you stopped being open and sincere with me.” He was silent a moment. “Why, Marinette?”

Marinette shrugged, fingers digging into her arms. “I didn’t feel like it was right to let you see how I was feeling until I was sure. I’ve hurt you for years by not loving you, and I just...I didn’t want to give you that kind of hope when I still didn’t know what I wanted. I mean, I knew what I wanted, I just didn’t know, if...if I could have it. If it would even be right to ask for it, after all this time.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “It all sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.”

“Maybe you should have tried that sooner,” Luka pointed out, the corner of his mouth quirking up, though there didn’t seem to be much humor in the tiny smile.

Marinette dropped her gaze to her feet, and it was almost comforting, a return to the usual dynamic. Except that it wasn’t comforting, because he was right, and he was disappointed in her.

“I’m sorry for that too.” Marinette sighed. “When have I ever done what I should have done when I should have done it outside of b—an emergency?”

“That’s a fine,” Luka reminded her with a quiet chuckle. “No negative self-talk.” Marinette smiled tightly in spite of herself at the memory of the jar she’d decorated so long ago in purple, pink, and blue, that had sat proudly on the Liberty’s galley counter for years now. Luka sighed and she came back to the moment. “You were on a streak, too,” he pointed out, and then he chuckled again. “Must be going around. Juleka broke her streak this week too.”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette said automatically, and then shook her head. “Maybe I should just...I should just go.”

“Marinette,” Luka said, and she lifted her eyes to his in one last act of courage. “Say what you came to say,” he told her quietly, and she swallowed hard. Okay. Maybe that wasn’t the last.

“I’m in love with you,” she said simply, determination alone keeping her feet rooted to the deck when the panicky part of her brain insisted that she flee screaming. “I want to be with you. But I’ll respect whatever decision you make just like you’ve always supported me. And, if moving on is what you want...then I’m okay being in the background for a while, or whatever you need. I’ll do my best to get over it so we can be friends again.”

Luka sighed, finally shifting his weight off the rail and back onto his feet. He flexed his hands as he let go and Marinette winced slightly at the thought of how sore they must be from clinging there so tightly. She held her ground, trembling slightly, as he advanced on her and looked in her face, taking a deep breath and sighing it out through his nose in that very Luka way.

Marinette held her breath as Luka leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, his hands coming up to curl lightly around her arms, his thumbs rubbing against the goosebumps the chill breeze had raised.

“You make me so stupid,” he sighed, a quaver in his usually steady voice. “Why am I such an idiot when it comes to you?”

“That’s a fine,” Marinette whispered, and her breath hitched when he slid his hands down to pry loose her grip on her own arms. “There goes your streak too,” she managed to add, as he tugged her hands away and down and tangled just the tips of his fingers with hers.

Luka grunted. “It doesn’t count if I’m quoting Jules. I guess she was right after all.”

“Right about what?” Marinette whispered, almost afraid to move.

“I’m just going to be an idiot forever,” he said, and closed the last bit of distance between their lips.

#quickspins #mlweeklyprompts #a single spark #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics #promptfic #quickfic #endgame lukanette

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imaginaryhuman · 3 years

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Insecurities, Fortitude and the Unfortunate Phenomenon of Gatekeeping

Note:

1. I'm trying to not be afraid of my own opinions (this will probably get a different word wall)

2. This isn't a hot take or a "permanent opinion". It's just...current. I think opinions fit a dynamic mold. Or I think it should since circumstances change and experiences can change thought processes.

3. My initial draft for this was a lot more aggressive and angry. When I started writing, I thought I would only tackle the one thing I was very familiar with (insecurities), then I read an article that miffed me a bit because of the gatekeeping vibes, and for a while, I was angry about it but then I realized how common it was. I've heard it from my brothers, I've experienced it with fandoms, with books, with cooking, and with running. There's even a subreddit for it! 👀

It's not like I'd wake up one day and it will be gone. Still, it does push me a few steps back when it comes to conquering slight misanthropy. But it matters to me to say this cause I grew up seeing myself as some last draw.

_____________________________________________________________

"I feel most responsible for myself when I'm insecure" I've wanted to expound on this for a while so here goes:

I've grown to have an intimate (and rather painful) relationship with insecurities. I was a sickly child so I would be in and out of hospitals so frequently that establishing young friendships didn't come easy. Some kids didn't take kindly to impermanence too and it's not anyone's fault. It just happened to be that way. Growing up, I came to realize that I wasn't exactly great at anything. Had I not been exposed to extraordinary minds, maybe I would have come to terms with it much kindly except I wasn't. I always thought that people around me were brilliant, smart, and talented (until now). To the point where I felt the need to alienate myself from it all so I could remain in the forefront of my own mind.

Comparisons come naturally but having them weigh on you is a different ball game altogether. Learning ways out of it is always challenging because insecurities aren't just a singular form of monster-- Sometimes it's about the future, sometimes it's body image, sometimes it's the gripping idea of not being enough for anything you love and it's all so cursed and horrible.

There was that time when more things were piled up on the mental shelving. I was talking shit about someone. Sure, people do it all the time but I think that time I was... viciously and purposelessly nitpicking. Everything I could say about that person, I said it. Totally not proud of that moment and a friend thought so too! First, they told me to shut the fuck up. Just like that, really. Next is they pointed it out. As in told me "V, you have a problem and it's really fine being a total hater but you're not usually like this with other things you dislike. What's wrong?" and then we EXPLORED. Doing this can be so cringe a lot of times but hey, we face the music in this club! I was happy to not be thinking about it alone and the experience made me learn a new way of confronting things and issues that make me feel insecure.

We talked about the whats, whys, and hows of being one hell of a hater and how even if certain reasons are justified. Like, okay, someone did something bad to you and you hate them for it? That's totally valid. Do you find certain traits a bit off your tastes? that's valid too! But even if they are valid feelings, most of the time it's not enough to justify certain actions. The thing is, we don't really have the right to be so up in someone's business about every little thing they do. It's frustrating and I feel like a hypocrite saying this sometimes because I have the obsessive compulsion to keep everyone at arm's length but I feel like there's a parameter where peoples' businesses either become something welcome or becomes a blip on a radar that I'd aggressively shoot down. Although I know that my radar can get too wide and that I need some willpower to hold back snark and suspicion. What can I say, I'm weak to any notions of ill-intent (a byproduct of assault).

But fortitude would sometimes come from borrowed words:

"Don't deny yourself what you think but don't do yourself a disservice by not figuring out what it really is about"

I was told then. To be truthful but exercise tact (I'm neither tactful, clever nor silent hence the trouble that follows) and to be mindful of the undercurrents of my thoughts. I think it's important to take a step back and at least ask yourself the most honest and genuine whys.

Insecurity has a bad rep and is too often used derogatorily for something so common and rather natural. But I feel that ultimately, insecurity stems from an understanding of what you don't have and the frustration of having aspirations. Having aspirations being a good thing but the frustration makes us people act up in so many different ways. For me, insecurities have primarily manifested themselves through the urge to just hide everything that makes me happy because I couldn't (and it's still hard to) stand digs at the things I do to keep me sane. Plus I've always thought them (happy things) few and temporary so that's that. Younger me was weird about it omg.

The rule in this house now though is to express what makes me happy and I think I've saved up a bit of grit to not allow myself to be gatekept (by others and by myself**) from those happy things! I love a lot of things (baking, running, reading, pets, anime & manga, drawing...) and the gatekeeping going on with all those? Surprisingly plenty! A totally different word block (that I won't write because I think this has to be put to rest here), really, and also a total nightmare. But how it applies in the realm of insecurities is... Oh, boi. Ignore it-- it's just bad news as it is strong fuel to a fire you don't want to keep going. If you love doing what you do and you're not hurting anyone then just keep going. I know for a fact that the things I love doing are loved by many others too because running? Creating things? Reading? These are things worth loving without it having to be a competitive chore (If you wanna challenge goals though then hey! Good on you! YOU CAN DO IT!)

Draw your lines, plan your layering in a way that fits your style. Use the tools that work for you. Put on your shoes and get going. I'm only particular with speed because I want to get better (and lol I am not fast) but just being out there and moving? That's already running. Fail some recipes or nail em, whatever happens, just try. Fangirl over what you wanna fangirl about! Post it on your IG and all your other socials. A rather horrifying realization is that no matter what you do, someone's gonna take a dunk at ya. Worse, you can be intentionally approached and engaged for that purpose primarily. It's okay (not really but... if it happens, it happens ). Even if you're used to it, it will still get to you but maybe less and less through time. When the voice of apprehension guides you to retaliate in the most painful way you know, just keep the fear at bay and be strong to not let that urge take over your words and actions. Be frustrated! It's fine! And I really don't support self-harm so please don't misunderstand when I say that when it comes to fear and insecurity, there's a lot you have to take on yourself so you don't hurt others. A lot to unpack between you and your brain. There are people who can love you without patronizing you and those you can trust to reign you in when you lose better judgment. Be honest and let them in.

Have that conversation.

Extras:

- AH! But I got to say this cause I also saw a post that said "if you haven't ran 50 to 100 miles, you don't know what a hard run is" wow. Fuck that guy. Actually, don't. He's probably not a fun date.

- this: "you can be intentionally approached and engaged for that purpose primarily" is from experience. An extra worse thing is to be vilified for retaliating. Like...was I just supposed to sit there and take it?

- I used to not like motivational quotes! I mean, I'm alright with them now for sure! We were talking about them and I was asked "What's wrong with properly credited borrowed words? You use them all the time since you like referencing songs." and it was like a tunnel of light appeared before me! Sorry for those whose post I've frowned at! I had an angst phase! I am very genuinely sorry 🙏🏻

#personal #self indulgent #insecurities #word wall #writing #opinions and commentary #fuck gatekeeping

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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years

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Working Like a Charm

Sammie Smith’s body ached. Every muscle screamed to the high heavens, lamenting long hours of work, telling a tale of soreness and overexertion. He could feel how sunken his eyes must have looked but avoided rubbing them.

Numb to the layers of grit and filth from the coal mine that clung to every surface of exposed skin, his weary calloused hands burned from clutching tools for as long as he had. Still was he clutching them now, carrying his heavy shovel and pickaxe on a shoulder. Part of why “Baron” Callan had hired him—he brought his own tools to work.

The day had been entirely too damned long, he thought. His head hung low, he looked forward to crashing into his creaky old rocking chair, warming up a bowl of beans, taking a bath, and getting a good night’s sleep. Night came fast this time of year, and the day had dragged on into overtime due to a cave-in, setting them back and subjecting the workforce to Callan’s barking admonitions. At least nobody had gotten hurt in the accident.

Sammie’s feet dragged and kicked up tiny clouds as he walked the dusty road back to his home on the edge of Dead End.

His shanty little shack stood amid a copse of trees, just far away enough from the town’s center that he needed not deal with the raucous noise from the saloon or the farrier’s daily toil or other busywork in the rugged frontier town, but not so far away that it made fetching water and supplies too much of a hassle.

He tripped over something, stumbled a few steps, and caught himself before gravity could drag him down. Sammie slowly turned to look at what had snagged his boot.

A linen sack. Sopping wet and dark in color. About the size of a human head.

It took him several moments to register what he was looking at. For the realization to sink in. He lost track of time, oblivious to how long he was standing there, staring at the linen sack, piecing together why his own brain figured it to be the size of a human head, or that the stain in the coarse cloth and on the dirt around it had to be blood.

And then his mind snapped onto a decision. He did what he believed every other conscientious citizen of their fine town should do upon finding a severed head by the roadside on their way home. He kicked it away with full force, cringing at the squelching sound and how little it flew past the shrubs, heavy with fluid, and it flopped unevenly, disappearing awkwardly into the shade of the underbrush.

He had been stealing pennies from Callan and often cheated at cards. He had pissed off plenty of people around town in some of his bouts of drunken aggression, and Sammie did not want to have Sheriff Moody on his ass for accusations of a murder he did not commit.

With a heavy sigh and hoping to leave the severed head behind for wild animals and vermin to claim, he continued his way home.

Only about thirty paces away from his shack, he stopped and groaned, beginning to second-guess and regret what he had just done. If it did draw wild animals, they would be a bit too close to his hut for comfort. And leaving it there for some rascal or dog to find might just make people think he did it either way.

Branches bent and snapped as he hastily dumped his tools by the side of the dirt path and started poking around in the bush where the head in the burlap sack had rolled off to.

Sammie swore up a storm as he searched. The blood drained more and more from his head with every second, a sense of dread forming a knot in his stomach as he could not find it and began to imagine people pointing and laughing while they hanged him from the gallows.

It had not flown far. How in tarnation could he not have found it already?

Glass shattered and metal clattered, and the burst of ruckus stopped him dead in his tracks. Sammie’s head jutted over, and he craned his neck over the edge of the bushes to peer at his shack.

Someone was in there.

The murderer?

He could feel his heart pounding away as it uncomfortably pumped blood through his throbbing chest, digits, and ears. Even his belly pulsed with his festering sense of fear.

Straining his eyes to see inside the darkness behind the small and shoddy windows of his cabin, he could not make out anybody in there. Eagerly awaiting a motion to make itself noticed.

He licked his parched lips and returned to his tools, keeping his eyes trained on his home. He ducked down, pawing at the first wooden shaft his hands found purchase on, then gripped the pickaxe in both hands.

Step by step, careful to not make too much sound as he approached, he drew his axe up high above his head, ready to swing it and kill if need be.

The closer he drew to the shabby front door of his cabin, the more subtle sounds he perceived from inside: scratching, followed by a man’s clipped cough, followed by wooden objects scraping against each other, followed by what sounded like someone smacking their lips—

Sammie arrived by the door. His heart throbbed with such pounding force that it felt like it was trying to escape every orifice, trying to drown out every little noise.

He kicked the door and started swearing once the sensation of the jolt reached his ankle and knee—the door just rattled in its hinges, refusing to yield anything but additional pain in his already sore leg. He lost balance and stumbled away, using the pickaxe to brace himself from falling, skidding across the dirt.

Whoever had invaded his home did not react to his fumbling around outside. Still sounded like someone was eating in there.

Was this rat bastard eating his jerky supplies?

The fury welling up in his gut—being stolen from, being possibly framed for murder, making a fool of himself in failing to kick his own door open, frustrated by the ghoulish foreman and “Baron” at work, being too tired for any of this—somehow eclipsed his fear.

Fuming, Sammie ripped the door open, gripping the pickaxe in one hand, knowing it might as well just scare off the scoundrel to show he could drive the pick right through him if he started messing around.

One step beyond the threshold, he froze.

Faint light from the setting sun poured in through the cabin’s small windows, revealing a cloud of dust motes to be dancing in the rays. The smell of feces and vomit lingered in the air, like someone had dragged the horse trough from outside the saloon into here.

A stranger sat at his table, eating. Eating what looked to be shards of glass in one of Sammie’s wooden bowls. The stranger smacked his lips and the glass crunched between his teeth as he chewed, with rivulets of blood trickling down his chin. He looked like he had once sported a dapper black suit and jacket, like someone far more well off than Sammie—like a businessman from Louisville—but myriads of dark spots and dust marred his attire, like he had been rolling around in the dirt and human refuse.

And his hands were slick and shiny with crimson. His fingers looked way too thin at the tips, all pointy and narrow, mismatched with the rest of his meaty palms.

The stranger met Sammie’s horrified gaze with an air of confounded indifference about him, idly crunching down on the glass being ground down between his teeth. His eerily thin fingertips gingerly grabbed another shard from the pile of broken bottles in the bowl in front of him and guided it to his mouth.

He opened his mouth and revealed a nightmare of blood and shiny jagged bits, teeth painted in black and red.

The pickaxe landing on the floorboards with a heavy thud helped Sammie break out of his trance. All semblance of fatigue had escaped his weary body and he now felt lightheaded, his stomach churning and turning upside down like it needed to expel his meager lunch, and his knees buckled for a split second before he braced himself against the frame of his front door.

The stranger stopped chewing. Swallowed with visible effort and a loud gulping sound to accompany it. Coughed, choked, gurgled. Swallowed again.

He tilted his head and stared Sammie in the eyes. Piercing, unblinking. Uncaring of the blood dripping from his own chin.

“I—”

The glass-eater spoke and coughed. He cleared his throat and coughed again.

“I, too, have discovered, that poring over the secret pages of Doyle, I sometimes feel the distant spirit of God,” said the glass-eater. Blood bubbled from between his lips and stilted his otherwise eerily calm manner of speaking. “On the whole, our questions are quickly eaten by the—by the—”

His words trailed off. His gaze remained fixed upon Sammie, going blank.

“W-who? Who are you?” Sammie finally asked.

He wanted to crouch down and snatch the pickaxe back up, but it was all too weird. The stranger, this glass-eater, had clearly lost his mind, but he was not threatening him in any way. Just sitting there with a calm that did not match the damage he was doing to himself in eating all those glass shards.

The glass-eater blinked, finally, reminding Sammie of a human. His focus returned; his gaze hardened again.

“Who are you?” the glass-eater echoed him, almost mimicking his tone.

Was that a mockery?

Sammie almost shook his head as much as his mind told him that was not the case. The glass-eater had repeated his question more like children learning how to speak by mimicking the words of adults they heard spoken.

He swallowed the dry lump of coal dust and grit and fear that had lodged itself into his parched throat and started thinking differently.

Maybe this glass-eater fellow needed help.

“You don’t look alright, man,” said Sammie. “I can get you a doc. You want me to get you a doc?”

Glass-eater tilted his head the other way and did not answer the question. Instead, without breaking eye contact, he picked up another shard and brought it to his lips, parting them and inserting it into his bloodied jaws.

Crunch, crunch.

“You, uh, you know where you at? This is my home,” Sammie said. “I can get you—I will go get a doc, alright?”

Crunch. Crunch. Dead stare.

“Maybe, uhm, stop eatin’ all that—uh, all that glass?”

Crunch. Staring unbroken.

“I will go find the doc,” Sammie said, walking out of his cabin without turning his back, not daring to turn until he had distanced himself from the door by several slow and careful paces, as one should in the presence of a beast in the wild.

Slowly peeling his gaze from their unnervingly long eye contact, he shot a glance over his shoulder every few steps, making sure that the crazy man still sat there and did not just jump up from the chair and give chase.

Instead, he continued to calmly eat more of the broken glass. With growing distance, Sammie could not hear those blackened teeth crunching down on the shards. He merely heard the haunting echo of it in his mind.

Crunch, crunch. Crunch.

His pace accelerated and he nearly jogged the last bit towards the rows of buildings that constituted Dead End’s main street. Bumped right into someone, nearly falling onto his ass as he stumbled sideways past the next person.

A man in black, standing tall, the powder of the trails sticking to a long duster coat. U.S. Marshal’s star on his belt, two six-shooters slung into holsters hanging from a belt around his hips. A visage featuring a symmetry broken up only by a milky-white eye, framed by a scar speaking volumes of a beast’s claw raking over the lawman’s face.

The marshal’s one good eye scanned Sammie up and down while he caught himself. Sammie nearly soiled his pants right then and there, at the mere thought of all the trouble he might get into if this lawman got on his case and misunderstood the situation somehow. Just find the doctor, now, and—

“What in the hell is wrong with you, son?” asked the marshal with a growl. “You look like you seen a ghost.”

He tipped his hat at Sammie and hooked a thumb into his belt, demonstratively flapping open one side of his coat to display the badge and one of his revolvers.

“O-oh, uh, it's—it’s, uh, it's—uhm, it’s nothin’, sir,” stammered Sammie. “Jus’ lookin’ for a, uh, physician, bit of a personal medical ‘mergency?”

He silently cursed himself for being such a bumbling coward, now of all times. Swallowed another lump stuck in this throat. His heart now pounded as fiercely as it had when he found the severed head.

Shit. The severed head.

Sammie had nearly forgotten about that.

The marshal took a step closer towards him and lowered his voice to what could only be described as a conspiratorial whisper, “Listen, I know there are strange things goin’ on in this town. You lead me to 'em, I oughtta have a shot at fixin’ these things somehow.”

He rolled his jaw and then set it while he awaited a response from Sammie. Sammie’s mind and thoughts however melted into a puddle of worthless soup.

Sammie blurted out the words, “Ah, shit, m-man—uh, I mean, uh—I-I need your h-help, sir.” He then lowered his voice to a desperately pleading hiss. “There’s some crazy man in my house. H-he's—he’s eatin’ glass, man. And talkin’ weird.”

He could get to the head later. Or maybe that would never come up.

Sammie held his breath, ready to soon be staring down the wrong end of one of those revolvers.

Instead, the marshal nodded and ordered, “Show me.”

He led the lawman back down the trail. Noticed a whiff of something dead and rotten about him, leaving him to wonder if something was not off about the marshal, as well. At the very least, Sammie hoped, that might throw him off from noticing a head in the sack out in the bushes nearby. Then he wondered if it was even a human head in there, as he had never bothered to look inside. Then he quietly scolded himself to shut about it already, like he might draw attention to the bloody linen sack if he thought too much about it.

Approaching the cabin, hasty step by step, he expected to find the glass-eater missing and putting him in the predicament of having to explain things. Things like this did not happen. Should not happen.

Some part of him dreamt that this was just a nightmare, and he was about to wake up anytime soon. No such luck, though. His body still ached from the day, the sun set on the horizon, and every step hurt his blistered right heel. It was all too real.

Like a dream, he hoped to cross that threshold and find no sign of the glass-eater. To find everything in its rightful place, to wonder if he was just losing his own damned mind.

But Sammie froze by the door. The stranger still sat there, gingerly picking up another shard of glass, bringing it to those bloodied split lips and the crimson fluids running down his chin in rivulets, and then chewing on the shard.

Crunch, crunch. For some reason, it reminded Sammie of bones now. Like this was the sound that bones made when something ate them. Snapping, cracking, crunching.

Crunch. Crunch.

A calloused hand clapped down on Sammie’s shoulder, tearing him out of this new daze of his. The marshal squeezed his shoulder for a second and then pushed past him, stepping inside the cabin.

“Sir?” the marshal asked. “This your home?”

Even with his back turned to Sammie, the marshal’s presence was imposing. All dressed in black and looking weathered, it was like he absorbed all the remnants of light in these gloomy cramped quarters, like he had a strange inverse halo about him where all light bent and gathered around him.

Crunch, crunch.

The glass-eater tilted his head again, just like he had when speaking with Sammie.

“Yes, of course this is my home,” the stranger spoke, another bubble forming between his tortured lips.

Unfazed by his condition and what all those shards must have been doing to his—in his—

Sammie fought the urge to throw up at the thought. The marshal cast an inquisitive glance over his shoulder, catching Sammie’s gaze. For a moment, he worried if he had to argue about some crazy man walking onto his property and getting other people to testify that this was, in fact his home.

The marshal did not question it, though, instead turned his attention right back to the glass-eater.

“All under the sky is my home, now, as we awaken, sea, by sea,” said the stranger, cementing what the lawman must have instinctively grasped. “You are a child of the mountains. I am the ocean.”

His thin fingers—and only now, somehow, as it grew darker, did it dawn on Sammie what was so off-putting about them—grabbed another shard from the bowl. His fingers looked the way they did because all the skin and nails from their tips had been flayed off somehow. Just bloodied skeletal husks of what they must have been, thinning towards the tips.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

“That so?” asked the marshal. He shot another glance at Sammie, his brow arched.

The marshal knew. He understood the insanity of this situation. The madness of that man.

To the glass-eater, he then added, “You touch any… strange objects lately, sir?”

Crunch, crunch.

“You involved on the rail work between here and Louisville?”

Crunch.

The glass-eater tilted his head again. More blood trickled from the corner of his sealed lips. His eyes sparkled with something strange in the dying light.

Crunch.

“You even remember a name anymore?”

Crunch. Crunch, crunch.

The glass-eater grabbed another shard, not breaking eye contact with the marshal.

“My name is the many, and my song is the return. I am the ocean,” he finally replied, putting particular emphasis on the word “am”. It echoed in Sammie’s mind.

The marshal violently expelled air from his nostrils, something in between a sigh and a groan.

“Shit,” he said.

In a flash, loud claps of gunshots pierced the air. The stinging smell of gunpowder soon hit Sammie’s nostrils. The deafening noise startled Sammie, sending him reeling, stumbling backwards, away from the eruptions of muzzle flashes brightly illuminating the gloomy cabin for split seconds. Then another volley of shots ripped, fired from both revolvers, one in each hand of the marshal.

The glass-eater dropped the shard into the bowl and looked down at his chest, now pockmarked with pitch-black bleeding bullet holes. He probed one of the wounds with those skeletal fingertips, almost in disbelief. Not trembling with fear or weakness—no—with a certainty that seemed wholly unnatural.

More thunderclaps, more shots released from the revolvers until both weapons had been emptied through repeated fire. The glass-eater slumped over the table, the wooden bowl with the glass hurtled to the floor where the shards sprayed in every direction with high-pitched clinking, and the stranger stopped moving.

Frozen in shock, Sammie knew not what to do.

Why in God’s name had he just shot the man?

“Too late to save that poor bastard. Too far gone,” the marshal growled, followed by another sigh; almost as if he had read Sammie’s mind and responded to his thought.

The floorboards thumped and thundered, and spurs jingled, as the marshal strode through the narrow cabin’s interior, closing in on the dead body of the glass-eater. He poked him with the smoking barrel of one of his pistols, then used it to lift the lifeless head and ensure the stranger had expired. A veritable vomit of blood poured out from the dead man’s half-open mouth.

Still dumbfounded and with a panic budding deep down, Sammie was only moments removed from running away and looking for help. Because now he feared the marshal again, perhaps far more than ever before.

What if he found the head? Blamed it on him? Blamed glass-eater on him Gunned him down without question? Without trial?

The thoughts circled at the speed of a hundred miles a minute, but they also rooted him firmly in place while the marshal’s eyes scanned Sammie’s meager possessions around the cabin. Then their eyes met again.

“You hold on, sir,” the marshal said, taking a step towards him. “I will get this mess cleaned up, lickety-split. Damn shame he had to ruin your home like that. And I reckon I, uh—I apologize for the holes I put into your back wall.”

He had already holstered the guns, which had happened so quickly that Sammie never registered it. He wanted to back away, but now dreaded seeing those guns flash right back out, giving him the same treatment of judge, jury, and executioner, all in one.

Instead, the marshal dug around in his duster and produced a silver amulet. Its shape looked foreign, odd—not a crucifix, not a locket, not a pocket watch—before he could discern its precise form, the marshal clutched it firmly in his fist and whispered something incomprehensible.

A warm light flared up in the cabin for a split second. The stench of rotten eggs suddenly filled the air, adding to Sammie’s nausea. And he heard something fidget in there, just out of sight. The marshal looked at a corner—focused on something just out of sight for Sammie. He only needed to step inside to follow his gaze, but—

Something held him back. Something in there had appeared out of nowhere, and it unsettled him deeply. Made his mind race even faster, so fast he could not form a single coherent thought.

“You clean up here, alright?” the marshal spoke to whoever was in the corner.

Pause. Scratching sounds.

“No, we will not discuss this now. Just clean it up, and we can bicker later,” the marshal said, responding to seemingly nothing.

Another long pause, more scratching sounds. Someone else was in there. Or something.

The marshal walked outside the front door, paused, swiveled, and closed the door behind him. He cracked a feeble smile at Sammie, something that screamed of dishonesty. Or perhaps pain. Or regret.

Sammie did not know what to do. He had to tell others about this. Get word out. They might think he was crazy, but if the marshal was truly crazier than him and the glass-eater combined, then he might find protection in numbers. Hell, maybe even that useless sheriff might help cover him if the going got rough.

The marshal lifted the amulet to eye height between them and then let it drop. It dangled from its silvery chain and Sammie tried to study it as it swung back and forth.

Up close, it looked like a long, steel cylinder, roughly the length of half his pinky finger. Reddened grooves coiled around it at rhythmically pleasing intervals, and strange symbols etched into the side formed a harmonic pattern all over its surface. The symbols reminded him of arithmetic, for some reason, though Sammie was illiterate.

“Look at the amulet, sir,” said the marshal, his voice now flat and calm. Almost soothing. “Next thing you know, all these worries o’ yours will be wiped away.”

Another flash of light. Next thing Sammie knew, he was walking down main street, in Dead End. No recollection of anything that had just transpired.

His body ached. Every muscle in him complained about the long day of toil behind him. He just yearned to sink into a bath and wash off all the grit and filth from the coal mine. His weary calloused hands burned from clutching the pickaxe and shovel that he carried on his shoulder. His tired gait gained more zest as he veered off to the side, taking the open spot between the buildings and following the dirt path back to his cabin.

The day had been entirely too damn long, he thought. His head hung low, he looked forward to crashing into his creaky old rocking chair, warming up a bowl of beans, taking a bath, and getting a good night’s rest.

Night had somehow come faster than it should have, he reckoned. They had worked late, but he must have been so tired that he did not realize how fast the sun set on his way home.

Must have just been that time of year.

Sammie’s feet dragged and kicked up tiny clouds as he walked the dusty road back to his home on the edge of Dead End.

He did not trip over anything this time. He did not notice anything amiss in his cabin when he plunked down his tools on the table and looked around for some jerky to bite. He went about the rest of his evening. Oblivious to what had happened here earlier.

Something had reached deep inside his mind and scrubbed it clean. No head, no glass-eater, no marshal, no shooting, no talisman. Just some missing time he could explain away.

The marshal’s talisman worked like a charm.

—Submitted by Wratts

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javier-djarin · 4 years

Text

Como Me Duele: Chapter 12

Ship: Javi x Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,557 words

Warnings: Language, Smut, Soft!Javi

Masterlist

(Gifs by @pascvl)

Summary: Life after Pablo finds you and Javi in bliss. Javi adjusts to his new title of fatherhood. You and Javi talk about the future of your family.

A/N: So, this is the last official chapter! (cries for days). Thank you again for all the love and support! Please, please, PLEASE let me know what you think. Please let me know if you want to be on my tag list for any future fics! I have a few lined up. I will be writing an epilogue to this so you know what lies in store for them in their future. As always, the translations are at the bottom.

Your POV

“What do you mean you have to leave?” you asked, sitting up.

He smiled at you as the sheet you wrapped around your front barely left anything to his imagination. “They want to review my case, which means talk about my involvement with Los Pepes.”

“Which means they could send you to jail, Javi,” you said.

Javi shook his head. “They would have come after me sooner if that was the case. As soon as I get there, I’ll get ahold of my lawyer.” He smiled and tried to pull the sheet off you.

“Seriously, Javier?”

He laughed at you and nodded. “If I’m not worried, you shouldn’t be. Now, I’m not going to leave for the airport for a few hours. So, let’s finish what we started.”

You smiled at him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I knew you’d be trouble when I first met you.”

“Por siempre y para siempre, hermosa.”

He deepened his kiss, gently pulling the sheet down. His hands danced across your skin, sending chills throughout your body. You smiled and laughed into his kiss as you ran your hands through his hair, giving him a slight tug. He growled and moved his lips down your neck and jaw, stopping at your already tender breasts. You let out a sigh, as his warm mouth was a welcomed surprise. He nibbled at one before moving to the other, his fingers already finding their way to where you ached most. He followed them soon after, kissing the inner parts of your thighs. He gently placed your legs over his shoulders as he laid down in front of you, his palms resting on your lower abdomen enough that his thumbs massaged you - running in slow methodical circles as Javi enjoyed the rest of you with his mouth.

As soon as his tongue came into contact with your body, you let out a loud moan. God, his tongue could do magical things to you. No, that man could do wonders. Your hand traveled down to grab his hair while the other had a death grip on the sheets. You felt him growl against you, sending a wave of pleasure through your veins. “You taste so fucking good, hermosa.”

He felt your legs start to shake and close around him. You were close. Your breathing became more labored as you moaned his name, begging him for more. He moved his hand so he could use his fingers while his mouth moved to your clit. He rubbed the inside of you in those same, slow circles while he curled his fingers, running them down your walls. You lifted your hips and cried out as you arched your back. You cried his name, each syllable falling off your tongue like a sweet plea.

He finally came up for air, your orgasm glistening on his face; the sexiest and most arousing thing you’d ever seen. Javi wiped his face and cleaned his fingers off before returning to your mouth. He stopped moving for a moment and looked down at you. “What’s wrong?” you said, placing hands on either side of his face.

He let out a long breath and smiled at you. “Nothing. I just can’t believe that this is real. That you chose me.”

You felt your heart ache for Javi. He knew exactly how to tug at your heartstrings, and he wasn’t even aware of it. “And knowing everything we’d gone through to get here,” you kissed him, “I’d choose you a thousand times over again, mi amor.”

He smiled at you and kissed you deeply as you felt him slide into you as far as he could go. He was the only man who could ever take your breath away and make you feel so alive at the same time. You gasped into his kiss as you felt him fill you completely and you both held onto each other for a moment. “Never leave me again,” he said.

You laughed. “You’re the one who sent me back here.”

He kissed you again. “I was a fool.”

“Javi,” you said, running your hands down his face. “I believe you said it best: ‘They’ll have to kill me before I leave you’. And you should realize, I’m too stubborn to die.”

He grinned at you. Since you woke up in the hospital, you’d never seen him smile so much. And you wanted to keep him smiling forever. “Never stop this,” he said.

“What?”

“Loving me this way,” Javi whispered.

You wrapped your legs around him to pull him deeper into you. He groaned, but never broke his eye contact with you. “I will love you this way for the rest of my life.”

He slowly pulled back before thrusting back in at the same, excruciatingly slow pace. You let out another moan and whimper. He’d never felt so good before, and you never wanted this to end. When you moved to Colombia, you weren’t looking for love. You were looking for a way to find yourself. Find who you were without Michael. Little did you know you’d find yourself Javi. Javi, the man who brought out the real you. The “you” that loved taking risks. That woman, you discovered, loved jumping in feet first, knowing fully well that she could catch herself, but was hoping someone else would be there to catch her. And you couldn’t imagine that someone being anyone other than Javier Peña. He showed you a life of love and happiness that was beyond anything you’d ever experienced or believed to exist outside of stories. “Te quiero, mi Javi.”

He kissed you even deeper as he moved. Your hands moved to his back as your hips moved into him, your body beseeching him for more. “Te quiero, mi hermosa,” he said, “Eres más de lo que podría soñar y todo lo que siempre quiero.”

You felt a few tears stream down your cheeks, and you saw one glisten his. You grabbed his hair as he craned his face into your neck. His velvety skin moving against yours was almost enough to send you over the edge again, thanks to your heightened nerves. “Javi,” you breathed. You felt his muscles tense as you said his name, running your hands all over his body. “More.” You said. His slow pace was torture.

He looked into your eyes and moved just a little faster. You felt yourself getting lost in his eyes, his touch, his scent, his movements. You could feel your body start to quiver and clench around him, drawing our low moans and growls from him. His noises always aroused you even more. But what you loved the most was his attention to detail. When you were close, he knew exactly how to send you over the edge by adding his thumb to add just the right amount of pressure and friction, and then he’d always say to you, “Come for me, hermosa.”

You cried out his name, loud enough that it echoed off the walls. You felt his hips start to move faster, helping you ride out your euphoria. Your body felt hot and cold as he continued thrusting and moving his hips in just the right pattern that left you feeling weak when he was done. You came again, just as he finally had his own release, breathing your name into your neck before kissing you and giving you your breath back.

You held him in place just for a little bit, because you loved nothing more than the feeling of having him inside of you. When he finally rolled over to pull you into his arms, you sighed and rested your head on his chest. He lightly ran his fingers up and down your side and kissed the top of your head. “I was thinking,” he said, “I really like the name Marcela.”

Your heart swelled. Since you’d been back in the States, you hadn’t really talked about what life would look like with the babies. And the fact that he was thinking of names made you love him even more. “That’s a beautiful name, Javi.”

He smiled at you and shrugged. “I just read it in a baby book the other day.”

You rolled over and leaned against his chest so you could look down at him. “You read a baby book?”

Javi laughed and started to blush. “I bought a few, actually. Look, I have absolutely no idea what to expect. Some of these books go into…” he cleared his throat and looked horrified, “detail. I had no idea a woman’s body could do so much.”

You laughed even harder and kissed him. “And think, I’ll be pushing out two of them that day.”

His eyes grew wide, almost as if he was reliving a horrific memory. “I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

You curled up against his side and ran your nails over his body. “I’m not. I already love them so much.”

Javi held you tighter and kissed your head. “You’re stronger than I’ll ever be,” he sighed, “there’s no way I’d survive childbirth.”

“You’re going to have to, because if you pass out in that room, I will kick your ass after I push them out,” you said, looking into his eyes with all seriousness.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth, gently kissing it. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

You settled back against him. “So Marcela for a girl. Any boy names?”

He shook his head. “You’re having a girl.”

“Javi,” you laughed, “I’m having two. We can’t call them both Marcela.”

“Well, I did half the job. You think of another name.”

You glared at him. “I get to spend the next seven months making them.”

“To be fair,” he smiled at you with his adorable, boyish grin, “I contributed to that as well.”

You hated that his grin could get you to agree to almost anything. “I like the names Santiago and Francisco, but I had another idea.”

He cringed at both of those names. “Please tell me your idea is better than those names.”

You lightly slapped his chest. “They aren’t that bad! I also like the name Jaime.” You watched him smile at you again. “Anyway, my other idea was we call him Javier.”

He laughed. “You want to name our son after me?”

“Why not?” You asked, rolling over to look at him again. “It’s a good strong name for a son to grow up and be a perfect example of a man, just like his father.”

You saw tears form in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you. He let his head lean back against the pillow as he let out a deep breath. “Holy shit,” he laughed, “we’re going to be parents.”

You laughed with him. “Everything is going to change so fast,” you said.

You felt his body tense around you. “We don’t have anything ready. No crib, no nursery. Oh god, the nursery. What colors do we want to paint it? We need car seats. Fuck. We have to buy two of everything.”

You leaned against him and kissed him to calm him down. “Tranquilo, mi amor. Todo va a estar bien.” He looked up at you, and all of the worry in his eyes was gone. “Connie is throwing us a baby shower where we will get a lot of that stuff. You and I will need to go register at places to pick out things we want, but they will take care of it all. And, while we do that, we are also doing our wedding registry.”

He let out a deep breath. “Oh.”

“Besides, we are painting the nursery gray with teal-blue accents.”

You felt him relax under your touch and lean up. He rested his hand on your stomach and smiled. “I want to go with you to your next appointment.”

“I have one next week,” you smiled, resting your hand on his.

He kissed your stomach lightly. “Marcela and Javier.”

“Mi amor,” you said, “we need another girl name, just in case there are two girls in there.”

“Julieta or Mariana,” he said.

“You’re oddly good at this.”

He smiled. “I just know you’re having girls.”

“Are you ready to be a father to two girls? Two mini-me’s running around.”

He looked at you for a minute, almost like he hadn’t considered that. “I’ll be so outnumbered.”

You giggled at him. “They’ll give you these same eyes,” you said, making your trademarked doe-eyed expression he loved to hate, “and you’ll be wrapped around their fingers.”

“Dios ayudame. If we have two girls, you know we aren’t stopping there until I at least get a son.”

You pulled his face to yours again, kissing him deeply. “We’re going to need a bigger house, then.”

“Lo que quieras, mi hermosa.”

His POV

They were sitting at the dinner table over a meal Javi attempted to cook. The further she got into the pregnancy, the more he picked up around the house. It was getting harder for her to carry things, bend over, or even move. For the last several weeks, she waddled everywhere. She hated everything about her appearance, but he loved it. She’d never looked more beautiful to him than when she did her tired waddle up the stairs for bed. Every night, he’d taken the liberty of massaging her swollen feet to help her go to sleep. Sadly, the twins would keep her up for most of the night kicking and moving. “I’m ready to get these kickboxers out of me,” she said.

He set a plate of spaghetti down in front of her and some poor excuses for meatballs. “They’re not as good as yours, but…”

She stopped him and reached for his face for a kiss. “They’re perfect.” She rested the plate on her belly and leaned back in her chair to eat. “So,” she started, “are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”

He stared at her for a moment, unsure what to say. On multiple occasions, she had referred to herself as said elephant, and on each of those times Javi had the wrong response. This time, he decided to wait for her to continue. “Cali?” she added.

Javi dropped his head. “I can’t leave the three of you here. God knows how long I’d be gone. I told them no.”

She sighed. “Then take us with you.”

He shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. Did you hit your head so hard you forgot what happened?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Javi, ever since they offered you that job, you’ve been restless. If you want to go, I won’t stop you.”

His heart stopped. “Hermosa,” he paused, trying to find the right words, “I’m restless because I’m about to be a father of two. I would never leave you to go running back to Colombia.”

“Do you want to do this? Answer me honestly.”

He thought about it for a minute. He hated those motherfuckers and everything they stood for. So, the answer was easy. “I want to see the Cali Godfathers rot in a cell.”

“Then take the job.”

“Without you there, I’d be miserable.”

“Then take us with you. You’re running the office. You won’t be doing field work like last time. I saw the pamphlets on the apartments near the Embassy. They’re much nicer than the one we lived in before. Besides, we will be closer to the Embassy. No one is going to touch us. The girls will be young enough that we won’t have to enroll them in school, so I’ll be with them all the time. Besides, we could really use the money.”

“What about our wedding? Most of it is already paid for, and we can’t get those deposits back.”

She took a deep breath. “We will fly back for the wedding. Connie and Steve can step up in their duties for us, but for the most part everything is planned. We haven’t booked a honeymoon yet, so there’s no need to worry about that. We can take a honeymoon after you bring down Cali. Besides, that is eighteen months away. For all you know, we might be back home by then.”

He shook his head at her. “I just don’t want to relive what happened.”

“I know you’re scared, mi vida, but I also know that you want to bring those fuckers down. You and Steve both.”

He sighed. “I don’t know why they didn’t ask him,” he said.

“Javi,” she said, “if things get so bad that you’re afraid for our safety, I will fly back here and stay this time. I promise.”

“No, I will resign. End of story.”

She smiled, but that quickly turned into a look of pain. “Oof,” she said, setting her plate on the table and resting her hand on her back.

“What?” he asked, half panicked, because he already knew.

“Is the overnight bag packed?” she asked.

“It’s sitting by the door.”

She nodded and took several deep breaths. “Good. We need to go.”

“Oh shit,” he said, “okay. Um, do you need me to help you walk?”

She shook her head and stood up. She started rapidly moving to the door, faster than he had seen her move in a long time. He followed behind her, grabbing the overnight bag.

***

Her parents rode with Chucho to the hospital. They’d been staying in town the last few weeks, waiting for their grandchildren to be born, and Chucho offered his guest room for them. Connie and Steve moved to Laredo when Steve was stationed there after Colombia, and Kate had been staying with them, doing what work she could from here. They were all waiting for them at the hospital by the time Javi and the nurse wheeled her in that direction. Javi stopped when Steve approached him to give him a reassuring hug. “I hope you slept good last night, because that was your last peaceful night,” he said.

Javi laughed. “I’m just glad you moved so close. Connie already offered free babysitting whenever we need it.”

Steve's face instantly changed and he looked off at Y/N being pushed down the hallway. “Free. B-babysitting?”

“It comes with best man duties,” Javi added, slapping his back.

“Javi!” she barked.

“That’s my cue,” he said, running after his hermosa. He caught up to her and grabbed her hand. “You ready?”

She smiled at him and kissed his hand in hers. “With you at my side, of course.”

Ten hours of intense labor, birth, and what he was sure was a broken hand later, he was holding one of his daughters in his arms. He couldn’t stop looking between the little bundle in his arms, the bundle in hers, and her. “They’re perfect,” she whispered.

“You’re perfect,” he said, kissing her softly. “I didn’t think I could be more in love than I am right now.” A few tears ran down her face. “And, you were right.”

She smiled. “I always am, but what about now?”

“They’ve already got me wrapped around their little fingers.” He kissed Marcela on her forehead. “And you’re not dating until you’re in your thirties,” he said to both of his daughters.

Y/N let out a soft laugh and cradled Mariana closer to her. “So,” she said, looking up at Javi. “Cali?”

He gazed down at the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, wanting to remember this moment for the rest of his life. “Are you sure you want to go all the way back down there for more bullshiiiiii-of what we went through with Escobar?”

“Nice save, mi amor,” she laughed, “and te seguiría hasta los confines de la tierra.”

He sighed. “I’ll let them know in the morning.”

Marcela whimpered and Javi held her closer to him. “Hey, mi hermosita, it’s alright. Daddy’s got you.” He lightly rocked her back and forth until she calmed again.

He then leaned down to kiss Y/N. “You are magnificent,” he said. His heart swelled so much, he thought it would burst. “Te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden describir y amo a nuestras hijas más que a nada.”

“Te amo, el amor de mi vida. Te amo mucho más que a nada.”

“Todo mi mundo está en esta habitación, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost it.”

She smiled at him. “Lucky for you, you’re stuck with us.”

Javi smiled wider than he ever had. He was filled with so much love and happiness, and the fact that she chose him over any man she could have meant everything. He really did love the three of them more than anything, so much that it hurt. This pain, though, was a good pain. He felt like his heart would bust open, overflowing with love. He looked over and saw her asleep with Mariana on her chest. He was so proud of her for being the strong, amazing, beautiful, and perfect woman she was. If he could take a picture of this scene, he would. He wanted to remember this beauty, this perfect image of unconditional love forever. “Mis hermosas,” he whispered as he kissed her head before sitting down in the chair next to her, cradling Marcela against his chest.

Translations

Por siempre y para siempre, hermosa. - Forever and for always, beautiful.

Eres más de lo que podría soñar y todo lo que siempre quiero. - You are more than I could ever dream of and all that I could ever want.

Tranquilo, mi amor. Todo va a estar bien. - Relax, my love. Everything is going to be fine.

Lo que quieras, mi hermosa. - Whatever you want, mi hermosa.

Te seguiría hasta los confines de la tierra. - I would follow you to the ends of the earth.

Te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden describir y amo a nuestras hijas más que a nada. - I love you more than words can describe and I love our daughters more than anything.

Todo mi mundo está en esta habitación. - My whole world is in this room.

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jimlingss · 5 years

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For a request, how about Tae and the reader where hs sweethearts and really loved each other, but then the reader had to move far away for some reason and they lost contact. Then years later when they’re both adults they meet again because they end up working at the same place. Maybe Tae wants to try things again because he really felt they were real but the reader is unsure and thinks they were too young before. You can decide the ending. It’s a story idea I’ve had for a while now 😅 Thanks! 💜

↳ Sixteen Over Thirty

1.5k words || 100% Fluff || Kim Taehyung

Everyone has a period of time in their life that they want to hide. For you and many others, that time is high school. When you were awkward and gawky, limbs suddenly longer than they’ve ever been before, acne cursing you as you tried to fit in the cesspool of superficial teenagers. You still cringe remembering just how unbearable you were. On your worst days, you’re reminded that you used to write lyrics of romance songs on the margins of your notes and that you wanted to someday get a tattoo of them. You wrote romantic poems, daydreamed scenes from chick flicks and thought it was your own life. Worse of all — you thought you found your soulmate. You used to scribble ‘Kim Y/N’ all over your journal, and you’re sure your teenage self would’ve gotten married had it been legal at sixteen. You would’ve said yes the second he popped the question. It’s a horrifying thought. “Why’s it horrifying?” A mirage of your teenage self confronts you with her arms crossed. She has that glare on — the one she thinks is scary, but comes off more as bratty. “You’re too young to get married.” “But I love him!” “You don’t love him,” you spit at her in distaste. “God, you don’t even know how to do taxes, don’t talk about love with me, you child.” “Ugh, you’re just like mom and dad!” She dramatically rolls her eyes. “What happened to you?!” “Life,” you tell her in disgust. Why she was wearing neon pink eyeshadow was beyond you. “I wish you’d become me sooner.” “You can’t tell me what to do!” She shouts at the top of her lungs. “I hate you!” The hallucination stomps off and slams the door shut, leaving you with a sigh. Everyone has a dark past of embarrassment and shame that makes you kick your blanket at night. But sometimes, it returns to truly haunt you, materializing right in front of you with no escape. And this time, it’s not a mirage of your past self formed from your active imagination. It’s someone real and tangible. “Y/N!” Your colleague waves you over in the lobby with a smile. “You got a lot of energy for a Monday morning.” “‘Course, I’m just showing the new recruit around. Kim Taehyung, this is L/N Y/N. She’s the senior director of the marketing department.” Your ears are ringing. It couldn’t be…. But the minute he steps aside, you come face to face with a tall individual with blonde hair. He has a bright smile, holding a curious stare, his brown eyes peering into yours. “Y/N…?” “T-Taehyung?” “Do you two know each other?” Your colleague looks between the both of you and your expressions of wonderment. “Yeah. We...went to high school together.” “Oh, really? Wow. What a small word!” It’s a small world indeed. It’s way too small. You should move to another fucking planet — NASA should make it to Mars faster so you can migrate. But alas, there’s no escape. Not today, not in the next few months. Taehyung works right in your department by your side. The pair of you see each other day in and day out, and he never hesitates to make small talk with you, catching up on the years you've missed of each other's life. Just like before, he places himself too close to you. Kim Taehyung is talented in how he worms his way into people’s lives and bring their guard down. And one night, you find yourself realizing this at a bar during happy hour with all your colleagues. You’ve taken your place alone at the counter on a stool, and he slides right up next to you. “Drink’s here are good.” “Yeah, I know.” You keep your speech polite, distant. “Not bad for the price.” He hits you with a memory. “We used to pass here all the time, remember? Always wanted to go in together when we were old enough.” Stiff laughter leaves your mouth and you click your drink with his beer bottle. “Guess we made it.” The man hums, his elbow propped on the counter. He rests his cheek in his hand and stares at you, a little too intensely, but you don’t comment. He shouldn’t look this good in a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and fitted trousers. Damn him. “We had a lot of things we wanted to do when we became of age. Didn’t you want to get matching tattoos?” He snaps his fingers, eyes lighting up. “You even had drawings of them!” “Oh god.” You groan. “Don’t talk about it.” Taehyung gives a cheesy smile. “Why not?” “It’s embarrassing.” “I don’t think so,” he muses. “It’s cute.” “We were young.” “Still are,” he says and takes a long sip of his drink. The oncoming intoxication makes it easier to speak sober thoughts, and he must find it simpler too because he asks— “I heard you’re not seeing anyone. What’s up with that?” The bomb is dropped. You’re caught off guard. “What do you mean?” Taehyung shrugs. “I just thought you’d be married by now. You always talked about wanting to be married and having kids before turning twenty five.” “Well, I was a dumb teenager, Taehyung.” It’s nostalgic to sit next to him like this, to talk this quietly as if it’s just the both of you in this busy place, and you’re not sure if you welcome the feeling. “We all were.” “Do you ever think about how we could’ve been?” he asks, looking at you carefully. “I mean, if you never had to move away for college.” “I don’t know.” There’s a long silence as your mind travels. Maybe you would’ve gotten married to him by now, have kids, working mediocre jobs and coming home to the family. A white-picket fenced life. Then again, people don’t often end up with their high school sweethearts, not when their innocence sooner or later becomes ruined, when their immaturity sheds, when they realize the horizon’s so big…. Yet somehow, your teenage self would like to disagree with your cynical view. “Why’d you never call me when you came back?” “I didn’t know you were still here and I didn’t want to bother you. I thought you’d be married by now.” “Same here. Guess I just never found the person I wanted to marry.” Taehyung gaze is deep and imploring. “At least there was no one like you.” You laugh, lolling your head to one side. “Are you trying to flirt with me, Kim Taehyung?” “Is it working?” he chuckles, sipping on his drink as you roll your eyes playfully. “It’s inappropriate.” “Well we’re not at work,” he counters. “Everything’s fair game, right?” A noise comes from your mouth that he relishes in, a half-scoff and half-laugh. “Some things don’t change, do they, Taehyung?” “Some don’t.” The corners of his mouth draw upwards. “So you should let me take you on a date.” You blink hard, not sure if you misheard or not. “Pardon?” “I think….I might still be in love with you,” he admits over another tentative sip of his drink. Your face feels hot. Your stomach flutters as if you were still a teenager and not a grown woman. And your heart stutters against its will. Your composed exterior is vulnerable but you laugh it off. “Don’t be ridiculous, Taehyung. We were like five.” “We were sixteen,” he corrects. “Yeah, well, I’m thirty now and that feels like eons ago. I have to go get my cane.” He laughs noisily and it’s nice to see him be so unabashedly himself. “That’s not old. You’re not a grandma and even then there’s nothing wrong with that — I’d still want to take you out to dinner and a movie.” Your flustered, swallowing hard. “Sure. Good luck with that.” “Why, you don’t believe me?” Taehyung leans in closer, his breath skimming on your cheek and making you feel a kind of nervousness you haven’t felt since you were an adolescent. “Is it so crazy for you to believe that I like you?” “I think you’re hanging onto a fantasy.” “And what fantasy is that?” he asks. “I..I don’t know. The whole fantasy that we’d work out. That everything will be perfect. The whole seeing the world through rose-coloured lenses.” “I don’t think so.” Taehyung pouts and thinks about it. “I don’t think everything will be perfect. I don’t know if things will work out — we’ll have to see. And I’m pretty sure I see you how you actually are.” The distance has closed. He’s still smiling in that way that pisses you off, but makes your palms sweaty. God, he always knew how to soften you right up. You feel like melted butter. There’s a moment of quiet and you finish your drink, slamming it down on the counter. “Where would we have dinner?” The man has a shit-eating grin, one of delight, excitement and victory. “At that breakfast diner we used to go to.” “Walking down memory lane, aren’t we, Kim Taehyung?” You grab your purse quickly and muster a nonchalant shrug as you hop off the stool. “Fine, I like their pancakes anyways.” Kim Taehyung laughs, following closely behind. You embrace your teenage self instead of shaming her, and she stays right by your side, singing love songs already.

#Requests 2019 #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung drabble #bts drabble #taehyung fluff #taepurpletae #Jimlings #the fifth of my twelve requests #ok not gonna lie this is pretty cute #let's get some Taehyung love in this house

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chimswae · 3 years

Text

Untold Bonus Part 3

Foreword:

Some stories are better left unsaid.I couldn’t change anything for the world, although the fame part of this industry is tough to handle.Do i have a life? Yes I have my fans.Do i have friends? Yes the members that I cherish. Do i have love? No I have to let go.Life always offers you a second chance. It’s called tomorrow. But do i have any tomorrow?

Pairing: Jimin x OC (Other characters: BTS, OCs, Lee Taehwan)

Genre: Idolau, Fluff, Romance, Father!Au

Word Count: 2,324

Author Note: I totally forget to finish update Untold! forgive me ;; This is an old story of mine i think i wrote it in 2017, so please ignore my clicheness and the excessive usage of clicheness~ that makes u cringe haha

You can check full masterlist below :)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Part 3

Although their camel tour ended a little comically, everyone had fun. Hoseok on the other hand was salty the whole day because of the poop incident. As soon as they reached their hotel, Hoseok spent at least two hours in the bathroom alone taking super long bath just to get rid of the smell or whatever he thought it was. He claimed it was to stabilize his mental state after the horrifying event.

Hoseok could be a little too dramatic sometimes, no one could stop that guy.

Leaving Hoseok with his delusional thought, others went to get dinner at nearby restaurant and bought takeaways food for him to savor later on. Enjoying the night city view, the stars sparkle in the night sky.

“I love the city when it shuts down” Jimin whispers.

Yeoul smiled upon hearing that low and raspy voice of his, so enticing. They both strolled the parks pedestrian pathways following others from behind silently. The streets was empty, there were minimal number of people around and most of them were couples. The emptiness was strange and magnificent.

“This is perfect” she squished their hand tighter.

In front of them, there were Taehyung with his cameras and his loyal assistant Kim Namjoon, his eyes fixated on his gadgets. These two guys sometimes stopped in the middle of their walk to take good picture and admiring them afterwards. Or ended up bickering over Vante’s photos.

Maknae and Jin on the other side were busy scanning the city and finding good spots to shop, though there were fewer shops opened past 11. The couple did not give up on whatever they were planning to buy, more like souvenirs.

Taehwan and Yoongi went back earlier than them since they wanted to catch up their sleep, with that they offered to bring Minyeol together. Poor Minyeol being dragged around by the adults. Not to mention, they still had to feed loner Jung Hobi, that guy must be starving.

Yeoul and Jimin took their time to enjoy this night stroll exchanging funny stories or stealing glances. Being with Jimin taught Yeoul how to swoon him with a simple flirt and playful kisses. She was taught well.

“Baby..Let’s ditch them” he tugged on Yeoul arm preventing her to move.

“Are you crazy? They will flip out” raising her eyebrows with a questionable look, she watched Jimin took his phone typing something in his phone.

Jimin grinned “Done. I notify them in our Kakaotalk group,so lets go” he pecked her lips, intertwining their hand together. Yeoul could only smile at his randomness and followed him wherever he wished to go. Anywhere with Jimin is everywhere she wanted to be.

Like a flash the couple disappeared from their vicinity for their own oh-not-so-romantic midnight tour. Jin and Jungkook had so much sense in them that they did not even care when they left unlike someone who insisted of following those two. Another reason how they ended in Morocco anyways, Kim Taehyung really need to stop pursuing different career in his life. The preferred V and Vante for now.

Please don’t turn him into Varazzi or something.

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

There sitting side by side, two pure soul enjoying each other company under dark sky accompanied by the heat from the bonfire across them. Being drawn by the warmth of their body heat, Yeoul snuggled in Jimin’s embrace smiling as he rested his chin on top of her head.

The fire glimmered and gleamed, its warmth drawn people in creating an atmosphere for sharing and making memories. As the night grows, they wished to linger around just a little longer in the warmth and contentment around the fire.

Everything about tonight was perfect.

“Aren’t you tired?” he was the one who first broke the silence between them.

Jimin felt Yeoul shifted a little in his embrace and soon he heard she replied “Tired of what? You? That is impossible.. I prefer to cling onto you for the rest of my life” she teased while wrapping her arm around his waist tighter.

“You cannot be tired of me. My charms are overflowing” he gazed down into her dark orbs. A pair of eyes that never failed to draw him in into this crazy world. World with unspeakable love. World that fills with hope. World that fills with happiness.

If she were to list down her weakness when it came to Jimin, his gaze would definitely on the list. In fact, that’s her utmost weakness.

“Aren’t you being a little over confident right now Park Jimin-ssi?” she ran her thumb over his lips, stroking it softly.

“I don’t mind if it is you I am trying to win over” caressing the back of his hand along Yeoul’s soft cheeks, Jimin closed the gap between them and locking her into a long endearing kiss. A kiss that he wished to give everyday.

Their lips move just perfectly in sync following their rapid heartbeat. He stroke over her back in a light touch that sent tingles in her heart. Every time their lips touched the spark ignite anew. Yeoul placed her palm upon his chest over his heart and felt it strong steady beat. The kiss deepened as she could feel with every stroke of his tongue latching onto hers.

They broke the kiss to catch a deep breath “You are irresistible Park Jimin” Yeoul mumbled against his lips.

“I am sorry. You have to deal with it until death do us part” nuzzling her face, Jimin chuckled softly.

“I don’t mind” this time Yeoul was the one who initiate their second round. Locking her arm around his neck tight, she pulled him down for another kiss. Who knows a kiss with Jimin can be addicting? Well Yeoul had her whole life to deal with it.

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

It was time to get back to reality. Everyone was physically ready to be back in Korea but not mentally. They will be missing Morocco for sure. Nonetheless, thanks to Kim Taehyung unexpected plan Yeoul and Jimin stays in Morocco was extra fun than they expected. Creating new memories with their loved one especially Bangtan, Taehwan and Minyeol, it was beyond perfect.

Boarding the plane on time, everyone got into their seat. First class seat as they said, but Jungkook was stuck with Jin for the whole journey, how unfortunate. He liked his hyung but sometimes he’s a little too bubbly for someone at his age. Considering he is in the hyung line, Jungkook felt he had slowly shifted toward the maknae line.

Welcome aboard Kim Seokjin!

Even before the plane took off, Jin insisted to sit on the aisle and made Jungkook stay in the middle. They had no idea who would take the window seat but scratch that, he hoped that person wouldnt snore that much.

Jungkook eyes wandered at the direction of their seat and noticed the window seat was already occupied. He couldn’t get a full view of the person but he’s sure it was a girl. So, he sank in his seat carefully not to startle the girl whom seemed engross with her reading. She had earphone plugged in both of her ears got him less anxious to sit behind a stranger some more a girl.

The older boy came few minutes later with a triumph grin plastered across his face, more like mocking Jungkook for sitting beside a girl.

Maknae grunted under his breath feeling unfair as he sent death glare at Jin’s way “If it weren’t for you……” Jin dumbfounded look was even annoying.

As the plane was ready for take off, Jungkook stole a glance at the girl beside him. He admired her long eyelashes, and her soft fluffy cheeks which again reminded him Jimin’s puffy one. Her fingers were beautiful and those accessories that she wore fitted perfectly around it. He tore his gaze from examining her feature even more like a creep. Jungkook had no idea why was he so nervous when the girl beside him showed no interest to start a conversation even a simple hi.

You are so stupid Jungkook. He grimaced.

The first hour of the journey, Jungkook had decided to pay all his attention on the games in his phone. His mind sometimes was too wild and he tended to over thinking too. The girl snapped the book closed as she stifled her yawn, stretching her aching muscle.

She loved window seat since she had more space for herself and most importantly she didn’t have to deal with strangers on plane. Engaging into unimportant conversation was one thing, but she hated people who snore in the plane.

Thank god, the two guys beside him seemed normal. She totally forgot to take a glance at the guy beside him and only to realize he’s quite good looking. Not an average look for a man at his age, but his eyes and those visible veins were her weakness.

Reaching out to her hair, she’s about to tie it into a bun but only to lose grip on her red hairband. It landed just few inch from Jungkook’s feet. Jungkook realized that and put away his phone. He bent down to pick the hairband up but at the same time the girl was already reaching for it. Their head were hitting each other, earning a low gasp from both Jungkook and the girl.

Jungkook straightened up with a baffle look “I am so sorry” he apologized earnestly.

The girl took the hairband and rubbed her sore head with a small smile “It is alright. I am sorry for dropping this” their eyes met. The girl grew anxious at the sudden staring battle that they had right now. She touched her face in case she smeared her lipstick.

“I am sorry? Is there something wrong” she inquired.

He was brought back to his sense as he blurted without he realize “Nothing. You are just pretty” Jungkook himself couldn’t believe what’s coming out from his sinful mouth. Clasping his hand over his mouth, he patted it giving it a scold.

The girl blushed upon hearing his compliment as he watched him in horror “W-hat…” she faked a laugh and averted her gaze from Jungkook.

“I mean..I didn’t mean to say that. That is just weird. I am sorry again” He bowed a little hoping he would not scare the girl away. What’s wrong with him anyway? This stupid filthy little mouth gave away compliment so casually especially to a stranger like her.

She shook her head “It is alright. It must be the gravity” she reasoned.

Jungkook bit his lower lips to surpass his chuckle at her silly reply “Urm.. I am Jeon Jungkook by the way” he flashed her a charming smile not trying to win her over but that’s just how he smiled.

The girl was taken aback at first not expecting the guy beside her would introduce himself. This was the start of every conversation, how she hated that. Therefore just to be polite, she replied Jungkook casually “Nari…Son Nari” her eyes gleams.

“Nari.. Nice to meet you Nari-ssi”

“You too Jungkook-ssi”

Interestingly, this Son Nari girl seemed to not recognize him. Not to sound like a superstar, but to be frank everyone knew Bangtan Sonyeondan but for some reason this girl had zero idea of his existence as one of famous idol members.

After exchanging their names, they fell into silence again. Nari exasperated a sigh of relief knowing Jungkook was not a talkative person, so she could enjoy this plane ride with ease.

Little did Jungkook know, Jin was actually faking him being asleep. He heard it all up until those little innocent conversation made by Jungkook introducing himself to some random girl. It was a rare sight but he’s proud of his dongsaeng mustering his courage to talk to opposite sex.

Jungkook stiffened in his seat still contemplating whether to ask questions or kept his mouth shut. Part of him wanted to prolong this conversation as he was curious of this Son Nari person. A soft sigh escaped as his fingers fiddled nervously.

“You should be thanking me later Jeon” a soft voice whispered awfully low and close to his ears causing him to jerk backwards accidentally hitting Nari again.

“I AM SO SORRY AGAIN” he looked over at the confused girl and threw a nasty glare at Jin, grinding his teeth together.

“You seem to have the knack of bumping into others clumsily” she chortled.

The corner of his lips tugged into an embarrass smile “I thought there was a bug on my seat” he lied. Studying her facial more clearly know, he could tell she’s judging him considering how hard she tried to hold back her laughter.

“Actually you kinda remind me of one of my friends.. he is..” Nari couldn’t believe with her own eyes that she actually felt comfortable talking to a stranger exchanging their stories and life which was she rarely did every time in public.

But..Jungkook. Something about him made it feel different.

Was it his smiley face?

Was it his perfectly round eyes?

Was it his giggly side every time he got shy?

It had always been a start of something new. Nari could use new friends.

Previous | Next: Epilogue

#untoldseries #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #jimin x oc #jimin idolau #jimin father au #park jimin father au #bts series #jimin parenthood au

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syntaxeme · 4 years

Text

Debut Performance

Summary: The first formation of Sardonyx. Sometime in the early days of the war, the Crystal Gems are discussing the topic of fusion, a discussion that Rose is extensively participating in. Garnet and Pearl, who are left out of the conversation, end up starting a conversation of their own, one that doesn't want to be kept a secret.

Word count: 4,300

Read on AO3

Aside from Garnet, Rainbow Quartz was the most commonly-seen fusion among the Crystal Gems. Rose often used her as an example for those who were still unfamiliar or uncomfortable with the idea of cross-gem fusion, and Pearl was delighted to help. If only the others had known how strange a combination it really was: a Diamond fusing with a Pearl! Still, she enjoyed the experience of being Rainbow—her confidence, her regality, her significance—too much to protest it.

It had been roughly three centuries since the formation of the Crystal Gems, and Rose had taken to the role of rebellion leader surprisingly well. It seemed that approaching other gems as if she were their equal (as if) made it easier for her to get through to them, and more gems defected from Homeworld all the time to join their forces. Although Pearl remained her closest and most trusted confidante, Rose insisted that the best way to prove she cared for her followers was to personally befriend each and every one. Pearl had some difficulty on that front.

On yet another day during the war, while Rose was demystifying the concept of fusion for a group of newly-recruited Crystal Gems, Pearl stood by in silence, waiting, as usual, to demonstrate. The scent of strawberries floated through the air, and although she was still horrified by the notion of consuming them, Pearl admittedly found that part pleasant.

“Don’t be afraid,” Rose was saying. “I know you’ve all been taught that there are rules about these things, but if you were interested in following the Diamonds’ rules, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

An uneasy laugh ran through the group. This was completely unfamiliar territory for most, so they had no idea where to begin. Rose pressed on, refusing to be deterred, “It’s an experience you owe it to yourselves to explore. It can be so beautiful—just look at Garnet!” And they did, and Garnet shifted on her feet some distance away, pretending not to feel all their eyes on her. But what reason did she have to be nervous? Rose was praising her!

Over the years, Garnet had grown to know herself better and, for lack of a better word, matured. Her responsibilities as part of the fledgling rebellion had turned her somewhat stoic, but she was fiercely devoted to the cause, especially when it came to the subject of fusion. She was competent and capable, much more so than one would expect, knowing one of her components was a noble who had never seen battle before. But Pearl couldn’t claim to understand what went on in her mind, as they were both a bit withdrawn.

“Let me show you,” Rose told the others, and Pearl brightened as she realized this was her cue. However, instead of calling on her, Rose asked one of the recruits to volunteer instead. She didn’t even glance in Pearl’s direction. A dark-haired Shungite took a step forward from the group and hesitantly offered to try fusing with Rose. Pearl could feel herself glaring, overcome with jealousy despite knowing she had no right. The same feeling burned in her stomach every time Rose fused with someone other than her.

Pearl had yet to fuse with anyone else herself. Not that she didn’t trust her comrades, but she wasn’t fully comfortable sharing with any of them that closely. Rose had no such reservations; she was so eager for new experiences that she happily attempted fusion with any Crystal Gem who was interested. As Pearl watched, Rose smiled broadly at the gem who had volunteered and took her hand to lead her closer. She explained the concept of a dance to help synchronize wills, a concept inspired by Garnet’s experience.

The Shungite was stiff and clearly nervous as Rose led her, but with every step and every turn, she seemed to relax more. Easy to do so when someone with authority was taking the lead. There was a glow, a shifting of forms—and Pearl fought back a smug sense of satisfaction when the would-be fusion came apart within seconds. Rose and her partner both fell to the ground, laughing and cringing in embarrassment, respectively.

“It was a good try!” Rose said encouragingly, getting to her feet to help the other up as well. “But you felt it, didn’t you? There’s no other way to connect with another gem that deeply.”

“I-I did,” the Shungite admitted bashfully, her cheeks flushed. “It was…could we try again?”

“Of course! You should really all give it a try,” their leader insisted. It seemed that the attempt had caught the interest of the others, which meant Rose’s attention was thoroughly occupied. As much as Pearl wanted to think she might be asked for a proper demonstration, that hope was quickly dwindling as Rose seemed to move farther and farther away.

“You always hang back when she does this,” a familiar voice noted. She looked up to find that Garnet had closed the distance between them and was watching her thoughtfully, head cocked to one side.

“Well, if I’m not needed, I’m not needed.” She didn’t want to admit how much the sentiment stung. “Besides, she’s here for their benefit at the moment. I already know what fusion is like, so I don’t—” Garnet interrupted with a brief laugh, and Pearl frowned. “What?”

“You said you ‘know what fusion is like,’ as if you’ve ever fused with anyone besides Rose. Rainbow Quartz might be a big personality, but she’s still only one possible outcome.”

“No one can know what it’s like to fuse with everyone,” Pearl answered defensively. Though at this rate, it seemed Rose might find out. “Besides, aren’t you the same? You’ve only ever been one fusion yourself.”

Garnet nodded slowly, conceding that she had a point. Glancing toward the group, all of whom were absorbed in their own conversations and ignoring the two of them, she went on casually, “Everyone else is practicing. Maybe we should too.”

“We…you mean…” Pearl cleared her throat nervously, eyes dropping to the ground by reflex. “You mean the two of us? Fuse?”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to.”

Frankly, she wasn’t sure whether she did or not. Of all the Crystal Gems, Rose excluded, Garnet was the one she had known the longest, yet she still couldn’t claim to know her very well. Would this help in that respect? Or should she refuse on those grounds?

“I didn’t even know you could. Since you’re already…”

“If groups of the same gem can fuse, why not groups of different gems?” Garnet reasoned. “Only one way to find out for sure.”

How could she be so calm about this? Did she not see it as meaningful? No, that was impossible, knowing who she was. For that matter— “Why me?”

“I know you.” As she so rarely did, very slightly, Garnet smiled. “I think we’d work well together.” Well, when she put it that way, how could Pearl not be flattered by the suggestion? She had to wonder exactly what Garnet thought she would bring to a fusion; she was just a Pearl, after all, not radiant and flawless like a Diamond, not powerful and self-assured like a Quartz. But the more she thought about it, the more she was curious as to what the experience might be like.

“Well. It wouldn’t hurt to try, I suppose.”

“Let’s go, then.” As Garnet started toward the warp pad, she balked.

“Wait, go where? I can’t leave. If Rose needs me…” She glanced toward the group, and a surge of sharp discomfort shot through her as she realized that Rose had succeeded in fusing with that Shungite while they’d been talking. The result was a solid, broad-shouldered fusion with violet skin and waves of wild black hair. She truly looked like the polar opposite of Rainbow Quartz, and worse, she looked so very happy with herself.

“She’ll probably be busy a while,” Garnet said, drawing Pearl back to their conversation. “We won’t be gone long.” She offered her hand, but Pearl declined to take it, instead striding past her toward the warp pad without a word. She wondered whether anyone even noticed when they warped away from the field.

Garnet brought her to a cave she had only visited rarely in the past, a former Homeworld reconnaissance post, which they had captured decades ago. The room was dimly lit, the walls studded with the inanimate Earth-formed crystals that had always puzzled her. But it was quiet, isolated, and there was plenty of room.

“So,” Pearl began, wandering away from the pad and into the open space of the cave. “How should we start?”

“Probably here.” Garnet took her hand and gave her a twirl, then pulled her close. This felt too similar to the way she danced with Rose, but she tried to put the thought out of her head, letting her free hand rest gingerly on Garnet’s shoulder.

“Is this the same sort of dance the two of you—er, Ruby and Sapphire—” She stopped herself as she realized it wasn’t really her business.

“Not quite.” Garnet didn’t seem to mind the question, leading her two steps forward and one step back, surprisingly steady for someone who hadn’t done this before. “Let’s say they have a different style. They aren’t as light on their feet as you are. Neither am I.”

“I think you’re doing fine.” Surprisingly, she meant it. Garnet led confidently, skillfully, as if she’d done this hundreds of times before. She was the sort of partner Pearl needed, the sort she could trust to direct her. They spun across the floor as a pair, and then Garnet led her into a series of pirouettes, which she executed flawlessly.

“You could do these with your eyes closed, couldn’t you?” Garnet noted.

“If you want,” Pearl replied by reflex. Upon realizing she’d responded the same way she might to Rose, she lost her footing and stumbled—but Garnet took the slip in stride and caught her around her waist again.

“I’m trying to say it’s impressive.”

Despite herself, Pearl could feel her cheeks warming with…what? Embarrassment? Bashfulness? “Ahem. Thank you.” She noticed the very soft glow coming from Garnet’s hands and realized they should probably already have fused. The dancing didn’t normally last more than a few seconds. Yet even as she willed it, it didn’t happen. Though their bodies might have been in sync—very well, in fact!—their intentions weren’t. Why was this so difficult for her?

“You’re trying too hard,” Garnet said, as if she’d read Pearl’s thoughts. Did she have telepathy along with her future vision? Or maybe she could feel that the tension in Pearl’s body had changed. “Relax.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You have more practice with this than anyone.”

“Practice being a fusion, maybe. But when it comes to fusing, you have more experience than I do.”

Oh. She hadn’t thought of it that way. Now as she did, although Garnet’s steps were still just as confident, Pearl could feel the tentative shift in her grasp, could imagine her eyes darting nervously to keep track of every turn. Somehow, that made her more comfortable. Another turn, a dip, and her hand slid from Garnet’s shoulder up to rest behind her neck instead. Her head tilted back to follow the motion, and there wasn’t a hint of instability in their stance; she felt they could hold the pose for hours and Garnet would never drop her. Stable. She liked that.

Lifting her head again, she saw another half-smile curving Garnet’s lips, and the warmth that had colored her cheeks transferred down to her chest instead. She hardly noticed the glow coming from her own gem, too focused on Garnet’s closeness, their matched breathing, the part of her lips—her lips? How did she get so close?

“No,” Pearl said abruptly, breaking away from her partner and, in doing so, losing her stability. But collapsing to the dirt floor was better than…whatever else might have happened if they’d stayed so close. What on Earth was she thinking? It was only supposed to be fusion, but it had somehow become much more complicated. She shook her head vigorously as she sat up, trying to rid it of whatever ridiculous notions this dance had brought up. Just a dance. Just fusion. And with someone other than Rose. What was she thinking?

Garnet sighed but didn’t demand an explanation, settling to the ground as well. Mercifully, she didn’t try to touch Pearl either. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you,” she said quietly.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Pearl answered, even though she wasn’t certain it was true. “I just…couldn’t.”

“It’s fine. Not everyone’s compatible.”

With a hint of bitterness, she muttered, “I think Rose would say otherwise.”

After a few seconds’ hesitation, Garnet replied, “I don’t agree with the way Rose talks about it.”

For a moment, shock overrode everything else Pearl was feeling, and she looked up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe it’s not my place to argue. I’m the last person to put rules or restrictions on fusion,” Garnet said, waving away her visor so Pearl could see the turmoil in her eyes, “but ‘you owe it to yourself’? That doesn’t seem right to me. Fusion is such a concession, such an intimate thing to share with another gem. It’s not for everyone. The others shouldn’t feel like they have some obligation to open themselves up like that. ‘Why not?’ isn’t a good enough reason.”

As much as she hated to argue with any of Rose’s ideals, Pearl could certainly understand where Garnet was coming from. Intimate. Yes, that was a good word for it. That was the reason she couldn’t attempt it with just anyone, the reason it hurt so much to see Rose do it with someone else. But something about Garnet’s point bothered her.

“If that’s how you feel,” she began tentatively, “then why did you ask me—”

“We should probably get back,” Garnet said decisively, pushing up to her feet and holding out her hand. “The others will be wondering where we are.”

“Wait!” Though Pearl didn’t know why this mattered so much, why Garnet’s evasiveness bothered her, she needed an answer nevertheless. “If you feel like there should be a reason, if you don’t like the idea of doing it casually, then why did you bring it up to me?”

Again, Garnet sighed. “I told you: I think we’d work well together. We do work well together. No one else feels as strongly about the rebellion as you do. No one else fights as hard. I see how passionate you are, how resolute and…graceful. And I want to share it,” she confessed. “But we tried, and it didn’t work out. I’m not going to make you try again for my sake.”

Pearl was silent for a moment, surprised to hear that there was any particular quality of hers that Garnet might envy. ‘Share’ was such a nice way of putting it. Garnet was right; they should go back to the field, back to standing at a distance from the group, at a distance from each other. She should go back to Rose’s side, back to waiting on her call.

Garnet’s hand was still outstretched, the gem in her palm still glowing very softly. Pearl reached out, hesitated, then took the hand and let Garnet pull her smoothly to her feet. The motion became momentum, the space between them disappeared, and the sensation of fusing was familiar but somehow entirely new.

…

The new fusion opened four bright brown eyes, somehow expecting a crowd but disappointed to find herself alone. But then, her self was nothing to sneeze at! She inspected her arms, first one pair, then the other, then twisted her torso a full 360 degrees around to observe herself from every angle.

“Well! Aren’t you something!” she declared, running two hands along her curves. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the smooth panes of crystal along the wall and was fascinated by what she saw. Why, she’d never seen anything like her! To be fair, she hadn’t seen much of anything at all, but she had a feeling that she was outstanding regardless. And just who, exactly, was she? The extensive ar-tic-u-la-tion of her body was characteristic of an Onyx, but by looking at herself, she could tell she was no uniform, straitlaced Black Onyx. She was striated. She was exceptional! A lovely Sardonyx, then.

“Oh yes, that’s perfect. And what a wonderful introduction!” Yet there was no one to whom she could be introduced. That wouldn’t do. She was such a gift, such a spectacle. It would be plainly selfish to keep that to herself. A quick survey of the room showed her means of leaving, but as she started toward the warp pad, her legs wobbled, and she nearly collapsed. “Hmm. Perhaps we’ll need a bit of rehearsal before the debut.” She certainly wouldn’t want anyone to see her at less than her best. Wouldn’t want anyone questioning her worth.

Oh. Where had that thought come from? Not her, certainly. She felt quite sure there was nothing about her to be questioned, and even if one were to try, the criticism wouldn’t have much weight. “Everyone’s a critic, after all.”

In order to make sure she had perfect control of herself and that her elegance wouldn’t be spoiled by clumsiness, Sardonyx began to slowly wander about the room, stumbling only occasionally but getting used to her own proportions. Her arms were another matter entirely, all independent of one another and without any natural dominant set.

That was something to note, she thought as she was pacing and gesturing and observing her own lengthy limbs. No dominant side. The gem in the center of her forehead. The gems in the palms of her top set of hands. All her little pieces, all beautifully meshed. Stable. She thoughtfully swept one hand through the air before her, conjuring a trail of glittering sparks through the air. Magical. Another descriptor to add to her collection, and she knew it was unique to her alone.

Alone. That word again. Lonely, in fact, despite the largeness of her own presence. She needed the attention an audience could provide, needed to impress someone; otherwise, she was sure to waste away into misery. As she started toward the warp pad again, now fully in control of her body and willing to figure everything else out along the way, something in her said to wait. Said this was too soon, that she needed more time to learn who she was before she could be shown to others. But she could easily enough brush that thought aside with the assurance that there was no possible way anyone would be disappointed with her.

Instinct told her where to warp, where a crowd would be waiting, and she found herself in a sunny field scattered with bushes, all of which bore several bright red strawberries. A beautiful place, a perfect place to perform! Yet when she went looking, she didn’t find the group she expected. That was odd. Some part of her mind had been quite certain they would be there. Instead, she found only a single figure—though a remarkable one, to be sure. An important first impression to make.

“Rose!” she called, eager for whatever socialization she could get.

When the gem’s eyes fell on her, they grew wide and starry. “A fusion,” she breathed, rightfully amazed by the beauty that was Sardonyx. “But who…” Her eyes roamed every inch of Sardonyx’s impressive shape, and she realized too late that her clothing was in quite a state of disarray. Why, she was a pure chromatic nightmare, a garish mess of plum and peach. How embarrassing. Well, never mind. This performance could still be saved.

“I’ll give you three guesses,” Sardonyx said with an impish smile, holding up two hands beside her face so that all three of her gems were clearly visible, “and the first two don’t count!” She could hardly help but laugh at her own wit.

“Garnet! And…Pearl?” Rose sounded incredulous, hardly able to believe what she was seeing. Again, Sardonyx felt a tug of distress, an insistence that she was being too brash about this and should hold back. Again, she pushed it aside. “But they never mentioned… When did this happen? Have they—have you been around before?”

“Oh no, you could say this is their first time taking me for a spin,” she chuckled, striking a pose and giving a full twist of her torso while Rose looked on in amazement. A good thing she’d practiced that trick before this meeting. “I am Sardonyx, and I’m so very pleased to meet you, Rose Quartz.”

“Are you kidding? The pleasure is all mine,” Rose laughed breathlessly. “You’re amazing! I never would’ve expected that the two of them would form someone like you.”

“Well, I am chock full of surprises~” Without knowing where the impulse came from, Sardonyx reached up to the gem on her forehead and withdrew a bouquet of pink roses to present them to the Crystal Gems’ fearless leader with a deep bow. Seeing her smile truly was a delight—but Sardonyx still felt something was missing. Was this all she was there for? To entertain a single gem? Of course, being herself was a delight, but without purpose, she found herself growing restless.

“Is something wrong?” Rose must have noticed her dejection.

“Not at all!” Was it a lie or simply an act? She preferred the latter. “But I shouldn’t stay for too long. I have to keep a few tricks up my sleeve so that I can surprise you with them later.”

“You can’t stay? But I want to know everything about you! You’re the first three-gem fusion I’ve seen!”

Something about that statement bothered her. Sardonyx was a combination of Garnet and Pearl. Two gems. Actually, not a combination so much as… Oh, the logistics were exhausting, really.

“Now now, there will be plenty of time for us to get to know each other in the future,” she chided playfully. “The next time you have need of me and my many talents, you’ll know who to call.”

She felt fully in control of herself. She wasn’t coming apart at the seams, as it were. But she also felt that she’d been there long enough, that her scene was over, so to speak. And she fully meant it when she said she would be back. Now that she’d made her debut, it wouldn’t be long before they were clamoring for an encore.

…

It took a moment for Pearl to reorient herself once she and Garnet separated. And the first thing she saw was Rose’s beaming face.

“Pearl! Garnet! That was incredible!” their leader gushed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were planning to fuse? I wish I could’ve seen the whole thing!”

“It was…sort of unexpected,” Garnet lied quietly, already standing while Pearl was still reeling from the shift. She started to offer a hand, but Rose easily swept Pearl up off the ground and set her on her feet, forcing her to remain upright.

“How do you feel?” Rose asked, looking her over with blatant curiosity. “How was it different from being Rainbow Quartz? Your Sardonyx was awfully charming. Will you form her again sometime?”

Pearl’s head only just stopped buzzing as Rose’s string of questions ended, and she managed a smile—though she was now very aware of how insincere it must look. “Another time, maybe. She was a bit draining.” In fact, it was sort of the opposite; Pearl was dizzy with energy after their stint as Sardonyx. And she could hardly keep her eyes off Garnet.

The experience wasn’t at all what she expected. It wasn’t at all like being Rainbow. It was more agency, more partnership than leadership. And they had only unfused by Sardonyx’s decision. Most of the time, she and Rose could only hold Rainbow for a short period before they fell apart, but Sardonyx was almost shockingly stable, despite being so dramatic.

Dramatic. Desperate for attention. Confident to the point of cockiness. An eager performer. Lovely, she’d called herself. Magical. Sardonyx was such an incredible experience that Pearl could hardly process all her elements. And she strongly wished she could have this moment with Garnet alone so that they could discuss what had just happened between themselves. For the first time, Pearl wished that Rose were not there.

And she immediately felt horribly guilty for the thought. How dare she be anything but grateful for the attention of her Diamond—no, of the brilliant Rose Quartz? How dare she traitorously think of anyone else being in the same position, even someone as impressive as Garnet? No, the conflicting feelings were too much to confront at the moment. Too much to examine.

It would be some time before she and Garnet talked about their feelings toward Sardonyx, even longer before they actually formed her again. However, from that day forward, she saw Garnet in a different light. Understood her a bit better. Saw her as not only a compatriot, not only a comrade, but as someone who could one day be a leader—under Rose’s supervision, of course, but still a rightful source of authority.

Pearl could imagine following her, looking to her for support, being comforted by her presence. She could also imagine other things, but she refused to acknowledge any of them. Those thoughts and feelings should be reserved for Rose alone, she knew, and as long as Rose was around, she wouldn’t allow herself to pursue them elsewhere.

#Pearlnet #Sardonyx #my writing #do people even post fics here anymore?#is Pearlnet even a thing anymore?#oh well I wrote 4k words so I'm not just gonna keep it to myself

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windschildfanfictionwriter · 5 years

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Nice Things

A/N: I think I mentioned this one a while back. Here is the one shot that developed from another story I’m working on. I will post it on Fanfiction as soon as I wrestle the answers from this Chromebooks framework on just HOW to do that. But for now I thought you guys would like this.

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Lavender was probably one of the most boring conversationalists Ron had ever met. She was vapid and gave no thought to the questions he asked trying to keep things going.

Here was the thing though.

Lavender was nice.

It was like a breath of fresh air. They would be doing homework together and she’d glance over, reading one of his answers and… ‘Oh, I like the way you worded that, Ron.’ They would be walking around the lake and she’d turn and blush and go ‘I never get tired of catching your eye. Have you ever seen a moonflower? That’s what it reminds me of, the petals.’ When she traced his chest with her hand she always smiled. When they ate together she never seemed to even notice what he put on his plate or how much he ate.

She said whatever came to mind and nothing that came to mind was ever bad about him and that was… It was a relief. He felt normal around her, like just being himself was good enough.

Best of all, when Ron gave compliments, she cared. She beamed and interlaced their fingers. She smiled shyly and tugged him along. She was sweet and talkative and wanted to be around him and said nice things about him and to him.

It made him realize no one else ever said anything nice to him. Outside of Harry who was determined to increase his confidence for Quidditch. Oh, he realized their teasing was in jest. He knew the small things they sniped at him for were just that. Small things. He knew the comments had no ill intent.

But they never stopped.

He couldn’t remember the last nice thing someone had said to him was. He wracked his brain and tried and tried and tried, but… there was nothing.

“You know,” Lavender said thoughtfully, using a little too much tongue to lick her lollipop. “Your hands have been pretty cold lately.”

“Oh,” Ron said, pulling away apologetically. “Sorry.”

Lavender shook her head, smiling. She picked up a pair of blue gloves from the shelf at the shop they were looking through in Hogesmeade before going over to the register and buying them.

“You don’t have to do that!” Ron tried to stop her, his ears turning red, but she was already walking back. Lavender grabbed his hand, spreading his much larger, longer fingers against her dainty digits.

“You know, I’ve had a crush on you since we were in the DA together last year,” she admitted.

“Really?”

“You were always so excited when you got a spell right. It was infectious. You’ve just got this grin that lights up the whole room and when you laugh? Everyone stops for a second and it just… melts the tension in the room.”

Ron didn’t know what to say or how to react.

Lavender didn’t seem to mind. She pulled the blue gloves on his hands. They had a heating charm in them. His fingers instantly becoming toasty.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t just mean for the gloves.

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

Of course, Lavender craved more than her boyfriend’s attention, she craved social attention. She thrived on it. Her personality going overboard when others were around.

Won Won was solely for Hermione’s ears and Ron wasn’t sure whether to be amused or horrified. She purposefully snogged him in a relentless almost desperate fashion when they were in public and it was becoming rather humiliating.

He definitely liked the physical contact.

It was just that he’d really rather do it somewhere less on display and… less. She tended to let her hand wander and that made him feel very uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up with her though. Every time he had the conversation in his head, the words came out too harsh and mean. He never wanted to be harsh or mean to Lavender.

Worse.

He’d officially run out of every topic he could think of and if they talked about what type of clothes she planned to buy on her winter holiday one more time, he might throw himself off the astronomy tower.

He missed Hermione.

Discussing the mechanics of a Charm. Arguing about what the best approach for house elf freedom was. Going over politics and the Ministry’s moves, what was You-Know-Whose influence and what was simply bad policy. Explaining historical facts from the wizarding cultures view versus muggle. Talking transfiguration methods and knit picking at what the other cares about.

He felt as if he hadn’t had an intelligent conversation in ages. Not that Lavender wasn’t smart. She just had different priorities and that was fine. Lavender wanted to work for her Aunt’s Fashion Magazine in the French wizarding community. She spoke the language fluently and seemed pretty talented when it came to magical sewing and design.

Ron had never been able to choose his own clothes before. He’d simply accepted whatever left over, hand me down, second hand items came his way and tried not to cringe too much about it so it left discussions… lacking. Unfortunately the more Ron tried to hint that they didn’t have much in common and that they were quickly running short, the harder Lavender clung. She avoided the conversation like the plague and it all left him feeling sick with guilt.

He’d hoped she felt the same way.

She didn’t.

Any time he tried to say anything now, her lips were covering his. She was desperate for this not to happen and Ron felt sickened at the idea of doing it. So he started avoiding her.

That did not sit well with the House of Gryffindor.

The house of chivalry and courage.

Hermione was smug and Harry was weary and Ron didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. He was drawing a blank. There was a giant empty slot where the guide to ‘How to Break up With a Nice Girl Without Hurting Her Feelings,’ should have been.

“You’re a right shitbag, Weasley,” Seamus told him one morning.

And what could Ron say to that?

He felt like a shitbag.

All those nice things Lavender had to say about him didn’t feel right anymore. They felt undeserved and Ron found himself looking in the mirror wondering if there was anything at all good about him. If only one person had good things to say and Ron was hurting that one person then what did that make him?

Why could he never do anything right?

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

Ah, well, there was nothing like being poisoned and nearly dying to make everyone forgive you for being a douchebag. He supposed. So he was surprised and not surprised when Lavender showed up again on his last night in the hospital wing.

She came in looking at the ground, her lips pressed together and hair in a disarray. Ron stayed still, tense and expectant, but when Lavender looked up she smiled at him. A small thing that was too sad for such a pretty face and Ron told her that.

Her smile became more genuine.

She sighed. The noise whipping out with exasperation, though Ron didn’t think it was directed at him. She sat on the bed, directly on his legs to be more precise before reaching forward and lightly flicking him on the nose.

“We made a right mess of this, didn’t we?”

We.

Ron felt warm inside. Unused to not being blamed for everything.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, sincere.

Tears flooded her eyes, but she waved it away.

“Mother tells me I overdo things,” she admitted. “I refuse to recognize when something doesn’t fit and keep trying to shove the triangle into the circle hole because I want the triangle to fit into everything.”

She shrugged, looking up at the ceiling rather than him.

“So, I’m sorry too, I know you were trying to do it nicely and I just…”

Another sigh.

“It’s okay,” Ron was quick to assure you. “You really are amazing though. You’re going to go really far, literally, France is like a whole ‘nother world.”

He knew it was cheesy, but she laughed anyways before turning somber.

“I’m sorry people have been so nasty to you,” Lavender told the ceiling. “I was a coward and I didn’t want to admit to anyone that you had been trying to break up with me. I’ve never actually been broken up with before, you know, usually I’m the one who makes the decision.”

“Sorry,” Ron mumbled again, more for a lack of anything else to say.

Lavender laughed. It was loud and she snorted as she tried to stifle it.

“But Ron,” she finally looked at him, dark brown eyes practically glittering with mirth. “I have never seen or read anywhere, in the history of fashion magazines or romance novels someone worse at breaking up with someone. That’s the honest truth.”

Ron blushed, feeling his face and ears turning hot.

“I don’t exactly have a well of experience to pull from,” he mumbled.

Lavender’s mirth turned fond.

“Well, I’m glad I could be your first,” she kissed him then. A short, sweet kiss that was much more reminiscent of their time alone than out in public. Then she adjusted his shirt, smoothing it out for much longer than was needed. “I know you can’t help it, but when you’re all handsome and grown up and have that Auror job I know you’ll get… invest in bright blue scarves and shirts, like the gloves I got you. They bring out your eyes in the best way. Winter fashion is where you thrive. Not Fall. And for all that is good in this world, Ronald Weasley, do not let Hermoine Granger choose your clothes.”

Ron blinked.

“Why would…?”

She kissed him one last time, a bit deeper, to shut him up. His lips turned amused against her, a chuckle falling out between them. She was warm against him. Her forehead tapping against his lightly as she pulled away. Her fingers ran through his hair, her eyes fixated on it in a way he couldn’t name exactly.

“Ron?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t let them tell you that your feelings aren’t important. Okay? Don’t tell yourself that they aren’t important.”

She pulled herself away, detaching her body from his legs. He hadn’t even noticed when they’d gone numb. Ron felt himself flay a bit. He didn’t want to let her leave like that. With it being so one sided.

“You’re…” Ron swallowed, Lavender paused at the hospital door, not turning around. “I’m really glad that you were my first girlfriend and I think, if we’d had a few more things in common, that it might have turned into something more. I really mean it. You are so much more than just a pretty face.”

Because he knew she worried about that and they both knew people talked about her like that around the school. As if she wouldn’t amount to anything but some over glorified house wife and that was wrong.

“You don’t need to have perfect O.W.L.S or slave away at homework or sports to make something of yourself. Its hogwash. You’re brilliant. Wickedly brilliant. Schools just… school measures paperwork and only sees a tiny part of who a person is. It doesn’t measure how you do at life or with people or how much potential you have. You’re gonna do great.”

Her hand clenched against the door frame. She didn’t turn back to face him, but he saw her nod. Quick and sharp, her whole frame seeming to waver on the spot, and then her spine straightened and she wiped at her eyes with her sleeves and before Ron could say anything else, she marched out of the room altogether.

He sat back against the frame of the hospital bed, feeling lighter than he has in a good long time. Keeping the nice things she’d said close to his heart and repeating them as he fell asleep. If he kept them close enough, long enough, maybe they might give him the courage to ignore the small things that cluttered his heart like barbed wire.

Lavender Brown might not be his soul mate or such, but she’d taught him a lot. She would always hold a special place in his heart because of that. Harry and Hermione… he didn’t think either of them would understand. Ron wasn’t the best at explaining things and neither of them were the best at listening when he stumbled over his words and meanings.

It would be just a nice thing between Lavender and him.

And that was fine.

#ron weasley #ron weasley defense squad #fanfiction #lavender brown

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 5 years

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Ephemera Chapter Eleven

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 6.2k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Woohoo another chapter! I’m really excited for you guys to read this one. These days I’ve been playing around with a Namjoon fic idea 👀 haha so there’s that to look forward to once Ephemera is done! As always, thank you so much for all the love and support. I really don’t feel like I deserve it, but I’m grateful! Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them! Links will be added later!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

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Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

A palpable hush fell over the room, coating the air in a thick film. Tension built like momentum downhill, sure to snap should anyone clear their throat or set their foot down too loudly. Taehyung stood on the stage, gaze sweeping out across the ocean of people. On his lips, a confident smile that nearly made my heart race. He cleared his throat and fussed with his cufflink once more before releasing a long sigh.

“I have a feeling that big things are coming,” said Taehyung with a smile. “And I’d like to come out from the shadows to be part of them.”

I staggered back just as rapturous applause echoed through the hall. My body felt cold, like all the heat had drained out through my toes. I bumped into a man behind me whose wide eyes showed more concern than frustration at being shoved. I bowed my head and stumbled past him, towards the massive closed doors. My vision was blurry and it took me several bracing moments in the hallway to realize that it was because I was crying. My throat was so tight it was a labor to breathe and despite the hallway being relatively empty due to the speeches, I still felt like I needed to run someplace, find a closet or something where I could be alone.

But before I could take even a step, I felt a hand on the crook of my elbow and I turned to see Jungkook with wild, wide eyes and flushed cheeks. I tried to discern any measure of anger in his expression, but found only bewilderment.

This had been Taehyung’s plan all along, huh?

Draw Jungkook out, have me play assist, and take the wind out of his sails by revealing his identity himself before Jungkook had the chance to use it against him? Knowing he’d only follow me, knowing that if the invitation came from me Jungkook would trust it…

It’d be genius if it wasn’t so cruel.

“Did…Y/N, did you know?” he asked, breathless as he turned his eyes toward me.

I shook my head, wiping my face wildly and pulling back fingers stained black with makeup. “I-I…he told me to be in-in the ballroom for the speeches and-and…,” I couldn’t finish the sentence for my sobbing.

In the end, I’d been another pawn in their game.

Just like always.

Jungkook scanned me and slowly his expression turned serious. He furrowed his brow and nodded. “You’ve been watching me for him?” he asked.

I sniffled, gasping as my tears stole my breath. “Yes,” I choked out.

Jungkook sighed, gripping his nose bridge, and slowly released his grip on my arm. “How much do you know, really?” he watched me from above like an inquisitor, like any reaction I had would be marked and recorded.

I shook my head again. “I-I…I know you were u-using me to spy on Vante,” I said, raking my fingers through my hair, undoing hours of work I’d spent on the style.

“And?” he asked, eyes flashing between mine. “This is important, okay? Did you know why?”

I sniffled and shook my head. “No…,” I said, calming down the longer I looked at the autumn brown of his eyes.

He sighed and nodded, leaning away and rubbing his jaw. “Okay…okay, okay, okay…fuck!” he shouted, kicking a silver trashcan so it fell onto its side, spilling its contents onto the carpeted floor.

I jumped, a little gasp escaping me. Everything seemed so strange, like it wasn’t real. I felt delicate. I felt like one wrong move and I’d break for real. Jungkook, noticing my reaction, turned to me with wide eyes and approached me too quickly. I stumbled back a half-step, but my heel caught in the train of my dress and I fell straight on my tailbone. Crying out in pain, I winced and squeezed my eyes shut.

Jungkook looked horrified above me, brows knitting and hands outstretched like he might have hugged me if he could. His eyes were glassy. “I-I’m not…I’m not gonna hurt you-,” he began, but his words were cut short by the large door from which we’d emerged sliding open once again.

And from that door, Kim Taehyung.

Upon taking in the scene before him, Taehyung’s eyes went wide and his jaw clenched. Without a second thought, he lurched toward Jungkook and grabbed him by the collar, roughing up his suit. I stared from the floor, all the strength I’d summoned to come here in the first place fleeing through my cold fingertips. My tears were still wet against my cheeks, and as Taehyung’s nostrils flared I watched Jungkook go slack in his hands.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, huh? You still gonna act like a thug at a black-tie event?” asked Taehyung, spitting his words.

I came to my senses and jumped to my feet, quick to run toward the boys and paw at Taehyung’s suit sleeves, desperate to stop him before anyone got hurt. “Taehyung stop! He didn’t do anything-,”

“Feeling betrayed because she lured you here?” asked Taehyung, soliciting a glare from Jungkook that only made him chuckle. “Well, you can only use a person so long before they snap.”

“Taehyung,” I said, warning in my voice, yanking him by the arm.

But he was stronger than me, resisting my force. “What’d you think, huh? She’d come running to you after all you’ve done?” he asked, smirking. Something dark swam in the browns of his eyes. “Stupid.”

“Taehyung!” I shouted, forcing him to look at me as I furrowed my brow. “He didn’t hurt me. I fell on my own,” I said. I gripped my nose bridge, my tears having temporarily taken a hiatus, and sighed. “If any of you would just listen to me-,”

“Vante?” asked a deep, male voice from the ballroom doors.

I turned to meet the person, Taehyung still poised with his arms on Jungkook’s lapels, and saw someone vaguely familiar. It took me several moments of squinting to remember who it was. With a start, it came to me: the man from the club. The one whose suit I’d ruined. Tonight he wore an impeccable set, wide shoulders and clean lines, black-and-navy pinstripes. He looked like someone out of The Sopranos. I swallowed hard and glanced up to see Taehyung also frozen.

Jungkook, using the distraction, shook Taehyung off with a scowl, straightening his jacket. He wouldn’t look at me. But when his eyes met with the man’s they went wide and he scoffed, crossing his arms.

That’s right. He was supposed to supply Jungkook with tickets to this event…

Who was he then?

Taehyung turned to him with a polite grin, dusting off his jacket. “Hello,” he said gently, bowing.

The man held out a hand for Taehyung to shake and the two exchanged a smile. “It’s an honor to finally meet you,” he said, then laughed. “And to think, here of all places.”

Taehyung raised his brows. “I…don’t follow?”

The man laughed. “Oh, pardon me. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Younghoon from Sanyo Industries.”

I stiffened, edging closer to the exit. It seemed Jungkook had the same idea, and the two of us took tiny steps backwards while Taehyung and this Younghoon conversed. I eyed him sidelong, and this time he finally met my gaze. He lifted his brows and swiftly glanced toward the large glass doors behind us, leading to freedom. Like an invitation to run with him.

This time, I took it.

As silently as we could, the two of us slipped out into the blistery night. I watched as Jungkook eased the door closed with a cringe, likely praying it wouldn’t make a sound. With a sigh, he stood up straight once the door had clicked back in place, patting his pants down as they’d gotten mussed up during his scuffle. And then suddenly, we were alone once more.

I wrapped my arms about myself and shivered, glancing to the side toward the bustling street. At the other entrance, guards still maintained their post. I fished around my bag for my invitation and found it once more. At least if I had to, I could return to the gala.

Jungkook was the first to break the thick silence. “So…Vante knows we’ve been watching him.”

I nodded, sighing. “You can’t be too mad at me,” I said with a shrug. “You have been manipulating me for three months.”

All was lost anyway. At this point, my relationship with Jungkook was unsalvageable, if that was even something I wanted at all. And I wasn’t so sure if I wanted to associate with Taehyung anymore. For someone who was so very appalled by Jungkook using me, he sure used me with ease…

Jungkook nodded, running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck…,” he whispered with a sigh.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He glanced up at me, scanning me. “Will it mean anything if I say how deeply sorry I am?”

I shrugged. “I dunno.”

He nodded and rubbed slow circles into his sharp jawline. “Wanna get something to eat? There’s a McDonald’s a few blocks down,” he said, jerking his chin toward it.

I sniffled, rubbed beneath my eyes, and nodded. “Yeah.”

I sat with my lips wrapped around the straw of my milkshake, eyes faraway as they settled on the worn plastic table separating me from Jungkook. He barely touched his chicken nuggets, and a large order of uneaten fries sat between us. All around, people bustled and chatted. It seemed we were the only two in the whole place that were melancholy enough not to eat the food we ordered.

“Everything’s kinda gone to shit, huh?” asked Jungkook quietly, poking a nugget with his slender index finger.

I nodded. “It was unsustainable anyway, wasn’t it?” I asked with a sigh, taking a sip and shutting my eyes. “All the lies had to come out eventually.”

“I’m surprised you’re not more mad,” said Jungkook.

I opened my eyes to look at him and he seemed near tears himself. I simply sighed. “I was mad,” I said with a nod. “At first, I was really mad.”

“And now?” he asked, eyeing me.

“More than anything…hurt,” I said with a nod. “I really loved you, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh.

I shrugged. “But then I realized…I didn’t even know you to begin with. The person I lost when I realized you’d been lying to me…didn’t even exist to begin with.”

“Don’t say that,” he said quietly, shaking his head.

I rested my cheek in my hand, the laughter and the yellow fluorescent lights nearly drowning out my voice. “If it hurts you so much, why did you do it?” I asked. “To ruin Vant-er, Taehyung?”

Jungkook sighed and pushed his nuggets away altogether, leaning back and crossing his arms. “It’s not Vante we were after.”

“We…I’ve known for a while, but Seokjin is in on it too, right?” I asked, raising my brows.

He nodded. “I shouldn’t be telling you this since you’ll tell Vante but, since we’re fucked anyway…,” Jungkook said with a sigh. “It’s my job. Seokjin recruited me after my dad…,” he began, then sighed and waved his hand. “Anyway, Seokjin poached me off the street since I was doing…some unsavory work at the time and told me he could give me safer work.”

I furrowed my brow. “What kind of work?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Usually petty shit. Scouting out a rich woman’s cheating husband, helping local gangs defend their territories, blackmailing company heads…not particularly legal, but we’ve done some job for city police officers so they turn a blind eye.”

“We…?”

“There’s a lot of us. Like…ranks,” he said with a shrug, glancing to the side at a couple sharing a Flurry, smiling as they talked in low, intimate tones. “I’m high up. So is Seokjin. I mean, he kinda has to be since he’s our founder.”

I nodded, sipping the thick milkshake. I felt like I might puke. “It’s not legal…,” I urged.

He chuckled, and for some reason his smile put my stomach at ease. “Of course not,” he said, glancing at me with that same smile.

I swallowed, running a hand through my hair. “I…see…”

“Do you hate me now?” he asked quietly, almost a whisper.

I stiffened and glanced at him. Vulnerability made his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed. “No, Jungkook,” I said, rubbing my temples as a tension headache began to grow. “If I did, my life would be much easier.”

He nodded. “I understand,” he said. “And…if you weren’t such a good person, you wouldn’t even be giving me the chance to explain. I feel like even now…I’m taking advantage of you.”

I sighed. “I’m here willingly, Kook. And besides, I think after all this I deserve some answers at least.”

“There’s a lot I can’t tell you,” he said, shaking his head. “About why we targeted Vante, about who hired us. I could lose a lot more than money. But…I’ll answer your questions as well as I can.”

I pushed my shake away. “Did the guilt make you crazy?” I asked.

He stiffened, like I’d surprised him, and cleared his throat. He rested his cheek in his hand and looked down at the table, avoiding my eyes. “Every day.”

“Why didn’t you just…stop then? At any point?” I asked. I chewed on my cheek, old hurt seeping through my voice. “I saw your texts with Seokjin while we were visiting my dad. He gave you an out.”

Jungkook’s eyes flashed up to meet mine before quickly departing. “I…I knew that once the job was over…I’d have to stop all communication with you.”

“Are you even a student?” I asked.

His eyes went wide. “O-of course!”

I nodded. “That’s good then,” I said.

“But…,” he hedged, scratching his arm. “That class we took together…I only took it because you were taking it.”

My eyes went wide. “E-Excuse me?” I asked, heart thundering.

He groaned, lolling his head back. “God, it’s all so shitty,” he whined. “We have an intel agent who’s, like, godly at hacking. He…got your schedule and Seokjin pulled some strings with the registrar to get me in.”

“It was all…all a lie?” I asked, tears brimming once more.

He sniffled, rubbing his swollen, red eyes. “Yeah,” he said, and it sounded like a cry.

I wasn’t sure why a wave of fresh hurt washed over me, sweeping me away in the undercurrent, but my stomach was twisted in knots and my heart ached like I’d been punched. “I…I don’t think I can see you again,” I said, sniffling.

Jungkook’s eyes darted back to me, wide, worried. The color had drained from his face. “What?”

I shook my head. “I…I think it’ll hurt too much to see you,” I said, meeting his eyes. My throat constricted at the pain in his face. “Even looking at you right now,” I began, voice cracking, “I feel like I’m falling apart.” I covered my lips with my hands as more tears streaked down my cheeks.

Jungkook’s lips were agape, eyes wide, and slowly he nodded. “Ah…y-yeah, I…I understand. I did really shitty things t-to you. I wouldn’t really…wanna be around someone like that,” he said, laughing lightly as he rubbed the back of his head and looked away. It was clear he was holding back tears, and for that I was grateful.

If he cried, I knew my resolve would crumble at my feet.

I sniffled, using the McDonald’s napkin to dab my tears, and nodded. “I-I want you to live a good life, okay?” I asked, reaching out to grab his hand in mine.

He glanced at me with knitted brows and nodded. “I will,” he said, voice strangled in his throat.

I smiled, standing to my feet. “I’m gonna go back to the gala,” I said with a sigh, patting my dress as I sniffled. “I’ve got a lot of questions for Taehyung.”

Jungkook stood quickly, our untouched food forgotten, and stared at me, eyes wide. “I can walk you!”

“Jungkook-,”

“Please,” he said, brows knitted, imploring me.

I shut my eyes with a sigh and shook my head, turning on my heel. “Fine,” I said, already halfway to the exit.

The walk back to the venue was long and silent. Old blisters from weeks of working in bad pumps pressed against the thin straps of my new shoes. I’d taken only a brief moment to fix up my makeup in the McDonald’s bathroom, but I knew it wasn’t really salvageable. Like many things, there was no way to bring it back to how it was before.

We approached the entrance once more and, with my eyes on the concrete below my feet, I turned to Jungkook and bowed my head. “Thanks for walking me,” I said quietly, scratching at my arm as my gaze darted around.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Ah…yeah. Um, thanks for…letting me.”

I nodded, finally lifting my gaze to find him staring down at me. I forced a smile. “Thanks for the last few months, Jungkook.”

He nodded, cheeks red and eyes still glassy. “Mhm,” he said, gently reaching out to take my hand. I let him. “If…if nothing else, I want you to know I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I said, scanning him as he watching his nimble fingers tracing my skin.

“It doesn’t change anything, does it?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

He sighed, shutting his eyes. “I…I could leave it behind, you know.”

I stiffened, staring at him with wide eyes. “You could what?”

He met my eyes, thick brows knitted, and nodded. “I could quit.”

I swallowed hard. The selfish part of me longed to tell him to do it, to encourage him to leave the bad work in the past, to move forward being good. But…then I remembered a few clues. He’d mentioned his mother having to work because his dad wasn’t the best. He said something about his dad before, about when he was working on the street…

Did he have any other options?

I clenched my free hand around my clutch and exhaled, long and slow. “Jungkook…,” I began, eyeing him. “Is that what you want to do?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before sighing, running a hand through his hair. “Is it what you want me to do?”

A dark nostalgia washed over me. Wasn’t this eerily similar to that conversation we’d had before? When he asked if I was unhappy? “I…I want you to,” I said, then shook my head. “But that’s been a problem all along, hasn’t it?”

He glanced down at me, vulnerability in his eyes. “Huh?”

“You’ve always been tailoring yourself to me,” I said, unlacing our fingers so I could press a palm to his hot cheek. “Because you needed me for the job…you’ve molded yourself into my perfect guy. I wonder if you’ve ever been alone with yourself long enough to know who you are.”

He furrowed his brow. “Are you saying it’s okay if I keep working?”

I sighed, letting my fingers feather across his jawline. “I’m saying that what I want more than anything is for you to know yourself well enough to know what you want.”

He inhaled sharply, shoulders pinching, and took my hand once more, pressing it against his lips without moving them. “We’re gonna have to find a new angle since Vante’s out,” said Jungkook, lifting his eyes quickly toward mine. There was a hunger there that made my heart race. Hungering for what?

“I figured,” I said with a nod. “Are…are you gonna hurt anyone? Doing this?”

He sighed, shutting his eyes and resting his lips once again against my knuckles. “I hope not,” he began, shaking his head. “But there’s no victimless crime.”

“And you’re okay with that?” I asked, quiet.

He swallowed hard. “Have to be.”

Before I could say another word, a couple of guests stumbled out of the door behind us, clearly inebriated as they were escorted out by security. They fell in heaps on the concrete outside, mumbling as they dusted themselves off. And, like a broken spell, my senses returned to me and I slowly pulled away, letting my hand drop to my side. Jungkook opened his eyes to look at me, and there was a sad understanding in the way his eyes narrowed slightly.

I shook my head, watching the ground. “I’m gonna go inside.”

“Alright.”

“I…I think it’s best if you lose my number.”

“I understand.”

“And,” I said, taking a half-step back toward the venue, tears making my throat constrict, my voice heavy, “please take care of yourself.”

He nodded, smiling softly, and raised a hand to wave me off. “I will,” he said.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.

He turned halfway toward the street and nodded his head once, still smiling, before turning on his heel and retreating down the sidewalk with his hands jammed into his pockets.

It took me a few quiet moments standing dumbly outside the Exhibition Center to realize he didn’t say it back.

When I returned to the ballroom I saw Taehyung surrounded by swarms of people, his cheeks flushed as he smiled brightly for each of them. Quietly, I ordered a drink from the bar and took a few sips, watching him from a distance. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to him. Not only had he been lying to me, he’d taken advantage of my relationship with Jungkook to further his own agenda. While I would have been supportive from the start, the deception was what bothered me. And something else, something deeper.

The lack of agency.

I felt much like a chess piece being forced across the board by many, invisible hands.

As Taehyung chatted, I saddled up to a barstool and sat down, rubbing my sore ankles with a wince. “Rough night?” said a voice from beside me.

I opened my eyes and glanced toward the voice. A young man, maybe a few years my senior, with warm brown eyes, sideswept silver hair, and dimples on either cheek gazed at me gently. I bowed my head in greeting which he returned. With a sigh, he shucked off his coat, seemingly having just arrived at the bar himself. He waved over the bartender who was quick to fix him a drink, not even asking his order once.

Another important man.

I scowled and nursed my own drink, sipping lightly. “You can’t even begin to imagine,” I said, frowning at the amber liquor.

He laughed. “Try me,” he said, still smiling. “Tonight hasn’t really been my night either.”

I eyed him. The idea of someone else being just as miserable as me was enticing. “How so?”

He hummed and took a deep swig of his drink, cocking his head to the side before shrugging. “Well, I found out some concerning news about my friend,” he began, counting on his fingers as he went. “I bought this new suit for tonight, but the sleeves are too short.” I chuckled, relief streaming through my veins as a brief flash of comfort came with it. He smirked. “And nobody even cared about my speech because of Tae-er, Vante,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Wasn’t even that good of a speech,” I mumbled.

He laughed. “You don’t like him?”

I shook my head. “He’s my friend,” I said, then sighed. “At least he was. Turns out he’s been keeping a lot from me.”

“Ah,” said the young man with a knowing nod, tipping his drink against his lips. “You didn’t know?”

“You did?”

He gave me a wink over the rim of his glass. “Of course,” he said, then leaned closer with a smile. “I knew him before he was Vante.”

I stiffened and turned toward him, giving him my full attention. “You did? How?”

“We worked at a bookstore together-god, was it five years ago? He was eighteen,” he said with a scoff. “Couldn’t even describe the amount of stars in his eyes. The optimism kinda got beat outta him those days, working all day and night. But he kept at it.”

“It paid off,” I said.

“And then some,” added the man with a laugh, swirling his drink in his hand. “He helped me when I was really struggling. Anyway, he’s a good friend. Maybe my best friend.”

I eyed him. “And…he’s a good person right?” My voice was small as a mouse.

The man laughed, shaking his head at me. “What would ever make you think he wasn’t?” he asked. “Taehyung is one of the best people I know.”

I sighed, relieved. “And I can trust him?”

The man smiled at me, giving my upper arm a brotherly pat. “He’s still young and headstrong, maybe a little hotheaded…but I’d trust him with my life.”

I nodded, offering a smile. “Thank you,” I said.

He shook his head, and seemed about to speak again, but noticed something behind me that made him quickly stand to his feet. He was tall and lean, more imposing than he seemed sitting, and he quickly collected his things to leave.

He gave me a quick grin before patting my shoulder. “I gotta blast. Man of the hour’s coming this way and I’m not feeling quite ready to face his fan club.”

My eyes went wide and I turned to find that, indeed, Taehyung was making his way over toward me, surrounded on all sides by guests who simply wouldn’t leave him alone.

I returned my attention back to the man and gaped as he began rushing in the opposite direction, waving over his shoulder. “Traitor!” I called after him, to which he only laughed and jogged away, his jacket draped over his forearm.

As Taehyung finally approached me, I was quick to stand myself, facing him with a cocked brow as the crowd parted to make way for me. “Hey,” he said, breathless, with a smile.

I nodded, eyeing the group around him. “Quite the celebrity.”

He chuckled and rubbed his neck. “I guess so,” he said. “We…uh, we should talk, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling at the group as I wrapped my fingers around Taehyung’s bicep. “Pardon me, but I’m going to have to steal Mr. Vante for a few minutes.”

A few in the group chuckled, good-natured as they likely wanted to make a good impression, and I led Taehyung by the arm toward a less crowded corner of the ballroom. Far from prying eyes and ears, the two of us stood close as he offered an almost bashful smile. Gone was the cocky, angry guy who had nearly caused a fight with Jungkook only an hour earlier. In his place, a blushing boy who couldn’t so much as look at me straight on.

“So you’re Vante?” I asked.

He chuckled, nodding as he glanced at his polished black shoes. “Yeah,” he said, then snapped his eyes up to meet mine, worried. “I’m sorry I lied! I just panicked because I didn’t want you to think I was creepy.”

“And now?”

He chuckled and looked toward the portraits on the wall. “Well…now there are things that I need to protect and this was the only way I could do it.”

“Protect what?” I asked, surprised by my own stern tone.

He turned wide eyes to me as I crossed my arms. “Well, you and…other things,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna involve you anymore. I’m assuming you saw Jungkook out?”

I nodded, eyes drifting to the tiles below my feet. “Yeah,” I said.

“That must’ve been hard for you.” There was a tender understanding in his voice, like he knew.

“You didn’t make it much easier,” I said, shaking my head. “Seriously, Taehyung? Attacking him out there? What was that about?”

He shook his head. “I thought he was hurting you,” he said, brows knit.

“He wouldn’t do that. And besides, I kept trying to tell you-,”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, once again cutting me off.

I stiffened, holding in my breath for a moment before exhaling slowly. “It’s…fine,” I said with a shrug. I turned to him once more. “What’s not fine, though, is what you did tonight. You didn’t tell me anything. You let me lead him here, blind, and made me a pawn.”

“You weren’t a pawn-,”

“Honestly, is that all it was about tonight?” I asked, scoffing as I leaned away. “You said it was about me getting revenge, but as far as I see it, you’re the only one who benefited.”

“Benefit?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “Do you know how long I’ve been guarding my identity? Do you know how much my privacy means to me?”

I eyed him. “I don’t,” I said, some of the anger leaving my voice. “But the way I see it, you won at my expense. You took away Jungkook’s angle. The only thing he could have possibly had on Vante was the fact that his identity was a secret. Without that, you’ve made yourself untouchable,” I said, shaking my head. “And I was just a means to an end.”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, frustration clear in his face. “Why are you being like this?”

“Don’t like it?” I asked, cocking a brow. “You’re the one who’s always saying I need to advocate for myself.”

“Listen,” he said, calming down slightly as he rested his palms on my shoulders. “I get that you’re hurt. I shouldn’t have lied to you for so long. And I should have consulted you about the plan. But I knew you wouldn’t be able to reckon with your conscience if you knew you’d be ruining his job and getting him in real trouble, so I had to keep it to myself. But don’t say that I’m the only one who benefited,” he said, eyes imploring me. “You proved you’re not someone to mess around with. And you showed him that you were the one playing him.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and glanced away, rubbing beneath my eyes. “I don’t want to play people, Taehyung.”

“What exactly did you think was going to happen tonight?” he asked softly.

I blinked at him, thinking. “I…guess, maybe we’d…call him out or something? Lure him here and…,” I trailed off. Truthfully, I hadn’t even really paused to consider it. I was too intoxicated by the idea of exacting revenge that I never even asked how we’d do it.

Taehyung sighed. “I’m truly sorry,” he said, and I knew he was sincere.

He’s still young and headstrong, maybe a little hotheaded…but I’d trust him with my life.

I sighed and my arms fell to my side along with my defenses. Slowly, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his chest. Stunned at first, it took Taehyung a few moments to return my embrace, but when he did it was warm. He rubbed circles into my back as I struggled not to cry.

“You did really well,” said Taehyung quietly against my hair. “I know it must have been hard to say goodbye to someone you loved a lot.”

I nodded. “Yeah…,” I said quietly. But something was still nagging at me.

Agency.

After all, wasn’t I still just a tool to both of them?

Slowly, I pulled back and smiled gently at him. “Sorry I got mad,” I said.

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I’d be mad too,” he said with a laugh, gently rubbing beneath my right eye with his thumb, likely removing stray makeup.

I sniffled and glanced back toward the heart of the ballroom. The music was still playing softly, and a few drunk guests were swaying around one another. A few of them caught Taehyung’s eye and began moving toward him. Again, I understood that young man’s urge to run. Patting his chest, I slipped past Taehyung, on a beeline for the exit.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Taehyung asked, turning his torso my way.

I chuckled. “Outside,” I said, jerking my head towards the group approaching him. “I don’t think I’m the one they wanna see.”

Before Taehyung could protest, he was once again swarmed and I used his momentary distraction to slip outside, finding myself beneath an awning once I’d left the infamous hallway. I sighed and wandered through the courtyard, past closed shops and dark windows. I paused in an alcove beside the massive SMTown sign that lit up the night sky.

I glanced down toward the building’s entrance and found a figure I vaguely recognized. Jacket-less and tall with spindly limbs, it was the same man from before. I took a few steps toward him, my heels clacking on the ground. I was surprised he didn’t notice me.

Quietly, I approached him with a smile. “K-pop fan?” I asked once I’d reached his side.

He jumped and turned to me with wide eyes, an unlit cigarette hanging between his teeth. “Jesus! Scared me,” he mumbled with a laugh. He raised a lighter to his cigarette and, shielding it with his left hand, struggled to light the end.

I smiled. “Let me,” I said, grabbing for the lighter and angling myself between his cigarette and the breeze that kept snatching his light. Within a few seconds, his cigarette was burning and his eyes were wide, smiling gently.

“You smoke?” he asked, raising his brows.

I laughed. “No,” I said, cracking my knuckles as the two of us stood side-by-side in the empty walkway. If I just took the stairs hidden to the left, I’d be at the subway station, on my way home. “I grew up on a ranch out in the countryside without a lot of modern appliances so I know my way around a lighter.” The man gave me a puzzled look and I chuckled.

He nodded, taking a puff and blowing it out into the night. “Well, at any rate, thanks.”

I shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

“Did you get to talk to Taehyung?” he asked.

I sighed, watching my hands as I played with the latch on my clutch. “Kinda.” The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I became. Hell, what kind of conversation was it if he wouldn’t even tell me what he had to protect?

The man laughed and eyed me in the navy darkness. “Don’t sound too pleased.”

“Because I’m not,” I said, sighing. “He’s keeping things from me.”

“Are you two that close?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I dunno. Doesn’t really feel like it,” I said, then glanced at him. “I work at his gallery, but he invited me tonight because of some shady shit my boy-er, ex-boyfriend was doing.”

He raised his brows. “You’re Y/N?” he asked, eyes round like saucers.

I stiffened, leaning away from him slightly. He didn’t give me any creepy vibes before, but now in the dark, looking at me in awe with a lit cigarette dangling in his lips, I wondered if I’d been naive to be so trusting.

“Y-Yes?” I asked.

He laughed and my worries were dispelled. He patted his thigh with a disbelieving scoff. “No fuckin’ way,” he said, taking a drag and eyeing me from above. “Well, isn’t this just serendipity?”

I glanced at him sidelong, brows knit. “Have you been looking for me?”

He shook his head. “Nah, just that Taehyung told me about you and your,” he paused to clear his throat and give me a smirk, “ex-boyfriend.”

“What?” I asked, stunned for a moment. “He’s been telling you?”

“Well, it does involve me,” he said, then furrowed his brow. “Hasn’t he told you about why they’ve been targeting him?”

I raised my brows. “No. Nobody will tell me anything.”

The man nodded and smiled gently, glancing back at his wristwatch with a cringe. “Shit, I’ve gotta get back in there. A host can’t be gone too long,” he said, smirking. He fished around in his pocket for a moment before producing a business card. “If you want someone to tell you what’s really going on, give me a call.”

“Host…?” I began, but before I could say much else, he’d turned on his heel and made it several paces away from me, leaving me with the lingering scent of nicotine and confusion. “Wait!” I called, watching his back retreat.

I was about to go after him, but paused beneath the scant light to read his business card, hoping to call him by name. But as I did, I got the sinking, ominous feeling that I was about to become even more enmeshed in this intricate mess.

Kim Namjoon

CEO and Founder

Ori Technologies

XXXX Yeongdong-daero, Gangnam-gu

Seoul, South Korea

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takadasaiko · 5 years

Text

Five Years of Peace: Home

FFN II AO3

Fic Summary: A set of oneshots spanning from Tony's return to Earth up to the point that the team comes asking for help with time travel. Five years of marriage. Five years of family. Five peaceful(ish) years.

Oneshot Summary: It's Tony's birthday and Pepper has a surprise for him.

----------

He had never handled things in a particularly healthy manner. By the time that Pepper had fallen into the job as his personal assistant, Tony had been well on his way to partying and drinking his life away. His avoidance climbed to new heights with each passing year right up until he was attacked and taken prisoner in Afghanistan. They'd gotten him back, but Pepper had watched in horror as her playboy boss' recklessness shifted and that laser focus of his that he usually reserved for Stark Industry designs focused on a new project: keeping those designs out of the hands of terrorists. He'd called her on it when she'd tried to stop him, and Pepper had found herself on a roller coaster of a ride as he tried to navigate all new depths of chaos in the life that no one - least of all her - could have predicted.

There had been at least one thing that had remained constant through it all. Tony had always thrown himself into his work to avoid focusing on the pain. He used it to push forward, but when it came to processing it, that's where he hit a snag. The closer they had grown, the more he'd let her see the internal turmoil that he faced the deeper he got into all of this, and Pepper had learned when to push and when not to. For the most part. Every situation was a little different, because how could you compare terrorists to aliens to a killer robot of your own design?

But he had always fought through it. Always forced himself to move forward. Until now.

Tony slept more these past few days than she had ever known him to sleep before. The doctors said he was recuperating. Over twenty days in space with barely any food or water - and all of it gone by the time they'd been found - low oxygen, and injured on top of all of it… it was no wonder he wasn't bouncing back immediately. She shouldn't expect it they had told her, and she didn't. The problem was that she knew him, and while yes, he was recuperating, Pepper could see the weight crushing the man she loved. He thought he'd failed. He'd traveled light years away to face the demon that had haunted him for the last six years and Thanos had won. Tony could - and would - rail against Steve Rogers until his legs gave out under him and he crashed to the floor, but in the end he blamed himself for what happened. Somewhere along the way he had become one of the most responsible people she knew, even when it wasn't his responsibility to shoulder, and it was stealing him away from her all over again.

A soft sound escaped him and drew Pepper's attention. He was curled up on his side, eyes squeezed shut and fighting the sheets he had managed to tangle himself up in. He tossed and turned, wrapping himself up tighter, and she started across the space of their bedroom to stop him before he managed to hurt himself.

"Hey," she called quietly. "Tony? Babe? You need to wake up."

She'd made the mistake of simply reaching out before. One time she'd found herself face to face with one of his suits and, more recently, he'd lashed out in his sleep. He hadn't hurt her. He hadn't had the strength to at that point, but the horrified look in those dark eyes had broken her heart. She'd held onto him for the rest of the night as he curled into her, shaking and broken.

Carefully she reached forward, speaking in low and gentle tones as she did. His eyes snapped open before her fingers brushed against his shoulder. He looked up at her, his expression haunted for just a moment, and she wondered if he had been stuck back on that alien planet with Peter Parker melting away in his arms. His eyes were glassed over and he blinked rapidly as if fighting the tears. "Hey, Pep," he managed, voice rough.

"Hey."

He shifted and seemed to realized just how tangled he'd become in the sheets. She helped him find his way out so that he could move over and give her room to sit with him. Pepper reached forward and ran her fingers through sweat-dampened hair, hovering just a moment over the flecks of grey starting to show. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his temple.

Tony sighed and reached up to grope blindly for her hand. "What time is it?" he manage.

"Just past noon."

He made a small sound of acknowledgment and settled a little deeper into his pillows. Pepper felt the frown tug at her lips as continued to run her hand through his hair in a soothing fashion. "You want some lunch?"

"Not hungry," he huffed, eyes slipping shut.

"You didn't eat breakfast either." He didn't answer and Pepper finally stopped the motion. There was being patient and there was letting him continue to waste away into nothing.

That drew his attention. "Hey, hey? Don't stop. Feels good."

"You need to get up."

"Doctor told me to rest."

"This isn't rest, Tony. This is you refusing to face the world."

He snorted, but didn't bother to look up. "I'm tired, Pep."

"Fine," she grumbled and pulled away. She was halfway to standing when his hand snapped out, snatching her wrist and she found a set of dark eyes fixed on her.

"Don't go. Just… lay down with me for a little bit?"

She watched him watching her. He was in a bad place, and she didn't want to make it worse. Either by pushing too far too fast or by not pushing at all. She pulled in a steadying breath. "On two conditions." She watched his dark brows draw together in question. "First, you'll eat some lunch in another hour or so."

"I think I can manage that." His look turned skeptical. "Second?"

"You know what tomorrow is?"

"Hon, I don't know what today is."

She found herself smiling very slightly at that. "May 29th."

"Is it?"

"It is."

"Does that mean I get to pick what we do tomorrow?"

That pulled a soft laugh from her and she inched down on the bed, half lying next to him. "Second condition."

"Here it comes."

"You get out of bed tomorrow. We have breakfast, maybe even get out of the house."

He cringed at that. "I don't know…"

Pepper sighed, starting to get up, but he pulled her back down. "Wait, wait wait. Okay. You win."

"Do I?"

"Yeah. Lunch in an hour and I'll… we'll do something. Your call."

"Really?" she asked sweetly, leaning over him and trying to pull a smile out of him. Pepper felt a small spark of triumph when she saw the corners of his lips twitch up and she leaned down, pressing a kiss to them.

"Really," he promised against her.

"I'm holding you to that," she warned him as she settled in next to him, curled into his side. A soft, tired chuckle escaped him, but he didn't argue with her. It was something, and she'd take every little win she could hold onto.

--------

Pepper didn't cook often, but when she did it was to die for. He hadn't even known she was capable of cooking until a couple years earlier and she'd teased him saying that if he'd known all along he would have added it to the list of her duties when she'd worked for him. Not that she'd been wrong about that.

She didn't particularly like to cook, so the fact that Tony woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs the next morning was enough to pique his curiosity. He sat up slowly, and when the usual wave of dizziness was replaced by a rare pang of hunger, he remembered his promise he'd made to her the afternoon before. He'd made good on lunch and it looked like he might even manage to make it down to breakfast. Well, she'd been worried that he wasn't putting weight back on. This was how you fixed it.

He moved slowly, careful to hover close enough to solid objects that he could use to keep himself from falling over. The real trick was going to be navigating the stairs. Steep and narrow, at least there was a railing from their bedroom down to the living room below. Tony held on, taking them one at a time, and inched his way down until he reached the bottom one, finally loosing a breath as he rounded down the hall and towards the kitchen.

Pepper had her back to him, still dressed in a pair of sleeping shorts and one of his t-shirts, socks covering her feet for the cool May morning. She had two skillets going - bacon sizzling in one and he could only assume eggs in the other - and she moved to flip pancakes on the grill she had to the side. Tony leaned a shoulder against the wide door frame leading into the kitchen and quietly watched her cook. For the first time since he'd been brought back to Earth, he let himself revel in the fact that she was still here. He'd lost a lot. They'd all lost a lot, but she was there waiting for him to come home. He didn't think he would have made it this far without her.

She turned, jumping a little when she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. "Hey. Look at you up and moving."

"Promised you, didn't I?"

Pepper echoed the small smile he'd managed for her and started dishing some of the food onto two plates. "You also promised me no more surprises before jumping on an alien spaceship."

"Yeah, well…" A rough chuckle left him and he found himself sliding down the door frame, taking a fairly controlled seat on the wood floor beneath him. His fiancée turned, a worried expression flashing across her face, and he waved her off as he braced his back against the frame. "I never realized how comfortable our floor is… Let's eat here."

He watched as the worried melted away into amusement and she shook her head, rolling her eyes a little as she turned to get the plates. "You're really not getting up, are you?"

"Nope. It's my birthday and I'm claiming at least one choice today."

"Pretty sure gravity got you there first."

"Shh. My choice."

"Sure it is." Pepper handed him his plate and he balanced it on his bent knees. At least he wasn't shaking as badly as he had been lately. That seemed like a step in the right direction.

She joined him on the floor and started in. The more he ate, the sturdier he felt, and finally he risked a look over at her. "So what do you have planned today?"

"I thought maybe we could look at dates."

"Dates?"

He received a longsuffering look for the question. "Wedding dates."

"Right. Right…" He shoveled a half fork of eggs into his mouth.

"Are you rethinking it?"

His gaze snapped up and he nearly dropped the plate. "What? No. I just…" He pulled in what he hoped would be a steadying breath, trying to catch hold of all the thoughts and emotions that were slamming around inside of him like they'd been caught in a cyclone. "I wanna marry you, Pep, more than anything but I just… " he managed, wincing as the words left him. "It's too soon. Maybe in a couple months…."

"Okay." Her voice was gentle and he felt her fingers brush his hand, taking the precarious plate from it and setting it down along with hers. "That's okay."

"No it's not."

She squeezed his hand. "It is. People we thought would be there won't be. It's okay that that's hard. It ishard."

He looked up and turned his hand over in hers so that their fingers laced together.

"We're just going to need to push it back more than a couple months."

Tony blinked hard. "Why would we need to -?" A smile had broken through, despite the heaviness of the conversation, and there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. He was missing something that she thought should be really obvious. Maybe it should be. "What?"

"You are so smart to be so oblivious sometimes," she teased and shifted her weight, rocking forward on her knees and kissing him. "We're pregnant."

"Huh?" Pepper's laugh cut through everything and Tony reached up, a hand against her face. "Pregnant? We're going to…?"

"I've been trying to find the right time to tell you."

"When did you find out?"

"When you were gone," she said softly, and there was an edge of pain to her voice that reminded him that while he'd been suffering worlds away, she had been left here wondering if he'd ever come home to her. He'd been gone, possibly dead. Even when he'd come back he'd been a ghost of the man she'd known. He'd been drowning under his own pain and hadn't stopped to think about hers. She had needed him and he'd been selfish, even if that had never been his intention. He knew it now. There wasn't any excuse. It was time to get out of his own head. He couldn't bring the people they'd lost back, but he could be there for the ones he still had. For Pepper, and for their kid. He would be there for them.

Tony pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it, a lopsided smile tugging at him. "Told you I had that dream."

"I knew you were going to bring that up!" she laughed, swatting at him.

"I did. You didn't believe me, but I was right."

"You're never going to drop that, are you?"

"Nope." He squeezed her hand before releasing it, reaching for his plate to start back in. He could almost feel Pepper's approval at the choice. "So," he said around a piece of bacon, "I can't promise I'll make it very far and Happy won't have to come pick us up in his golf cart, but what do you say to Central Park?"

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That sounds like a good day. We could use one of those."

"Yep. Maybe a few more on the way."

She nudged his foot with hers. "Happy birthday, Tony. It's good to have you home."

-------

Notes: There were two things I desperately needed after seeing Endgame: One was for Tony to live and the other was those five years we were so cruelly robbed of. I just wrapped a short fic called Always Been You that brings Tony back (check it out if you haven't read it!), and since I don't have any real faith that Disney will add Pepperony to their Disney+ lineup of (utterly amazing looking) shows, I'm doing the thing.

Do I have time? No, but I can't stop myself.

I have no idea how often I'll update this little series. I have several ideas and there may be long breaks while I work on my original writing, but I couldn't shake this idea any more than I could my Tony lives AU. That's what I do. That's my jam. I bring back my favs.

I can't promise that the muse will strike, but I will definitely take requests for this series. I have a list of ideas started. Just drop me a line if you have something you'd like to see and I'll see what I can do :)

#Endgame spoilers #Pepperony #MCU fic #Pepperony fic #Tony Stark #Pepper Potts

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tricklingstreamdacre · 6 years

Text

Girl Next Door Blues; Mike x Reader

MIKE WHEELER X FEM!READER

SUMMARY: You were always there and he didn’t care, but now you’re gone and things are clicking all too late. WARNINGS/NOTES:

REQUEST: a mike x reader? the reader is the typical girl next door to mike and their families are really close. she has a crush on Mike, but she knows it’s unrequited love because she sees him with eleven. The reader then finds out her family is moving to a different state. Instead of telling mike, she tells Nancy to tell him. Mike then realizes how much he actually loved the reader after she’s gone. lots of angst please!! 💔

WORD COUNT: 2K

A/N: You guys like me doing Unrequited!Mike are you guys okay? Have currently got two more requests

PLEASE SEND IN MORE REQUESTS

I also couldn’t get an ending?? Like I couldn’t find one?? So if this is semi-successful or people want it I’ll probably do another one

When your parents said you were moving away it took you three weeks for it to register.

When you saw Mike kiss Eleven it took three seconds for your unrequited love to register.

It might be melodramatic, that you knew, but staring at Mike and Eleven happy pained you, you didn’t want it, but you weren’t going to say otherwise.

So you didn’t tell anyone when you found out you were moving away, you played with Max at the arcade, drew in Will’s room for hours, rode your bike with Lucas and Dustin and sat next to Mike at lunch every day. But he never seemed to look to his side.

On the day you were going to leave, you stood silently staring out your bedroom window, Mike’s house, and room opposite. You remember the first day you looked over into his toy clad room.

“I’m going to say hi to the neighbours want to come?”

“Maybe later, I’m gonna find my toys,” you replied with a smile, your mother nodded and you wandered over to your new house exploring the blank walls as brown boxes scattered across every possible floor surface.

Once reaching your room you felt the chill breeze of Hawkin’s flying through your open window. Walking over your hands clamped around the window ready to close it, but a boy was staring at you.

Black bowl cut and big eyes, you tilted your head as he looked at your curiously, he was the same age you could tell, seven. You smiled warmly and waved, he slowly waved back, “What’s your name neighbour?”

“Mike... What’s yours?”

“Y/N, nice to meet you!”

But Mike wasn’t in his a room today, he was probably in the basement with El.

Frowning you reminisced about your memories here the nostalgic brown boxes filling the room taking all the creativity and uniqueness form the dull white walls. You picked up a small drawing pad of some of your favourite drawings you wanted to leave with Will so he could remember you. You clutched them tight and headed downstairs.

“I’m going to head to the Byers, won’t be too long mother,” you called out.

“Can you drop by the neighbours and ask Karen if she’d like to come over for some coffee before we go? I’d like to see her one more time.” your mother replied placing tape of another box in the kitchen. You paused at the doorstep cringing at the idea of going to the Wheelers.

“Of course mother!” you replied shoving the drawing book in your bag - filled with drawings of all your friends - before grabbing your bike you’d ditched on the lawn and riding towards the Byers.

You could talk to the Wheelers on the way home.

When you arrived at the cosy house and threw your bike on the porch, you didn’t need to knock on the door and just entered with an excited smile, “Hey! Will?” Will emerged moments later looking a little dazed but happy nonetheless, shocked at your arrival he ran up and hugged you, “What are you doing here?”

You paused for a moment nearly forgetting why you came here after being hung up on Mike, “Oh! I came to give you something, must be quick though I have to head home.” you remembered digging into your bag and rummaging through it to find the small book.

Will waited patiently wondering what you bought, soon enough you pulled out the book and he stared curiously.

“What is it for?”

“Nothing really, I just want you to have it, you taught me everything I know.”

He smiled and took it flipping through the book and seeing all the drawings you’d created, “This is for nothing?”

You nodded in confirmation and he smiled brighter, “Thank you.”

Smiling brighter you hugged Will tightly, knowing this was probably the last time you’d see him, “No problem bud.”

Pulling away and looking at him you felt a pang of guilt in not telling them, but if one told everyone would know and you just didn’t want to have miserable last days.

Talking for a little longer you decided you should leave and you - as slowly as you could - headed towards your neighbours pristine and perfect house.

Pushing your foot down on the pavement you slowly and gently placed your bike down taking precious time before wandering to the front door. You knocked three times with eagerness and waited only a short moment before the door was opened.

Nancy emerged and looked down at you welcoming, “What’s up Y/N?”

Breathing a sigh of relief you smiled, “Mother just wanted to invite Karen over for some coffee, it’s been a while.”

“Oh of course,” Nancy replied, “I’ll tell her when she gets home, want me to bring Mike down?”

You felt your throat tighten as you fumbled for words, “Uh, I, um no.”

She raised her eyebrows, obviously intrigued by the reaction, “You sure?”

You nodded instead of giving another contorted reply, but she didn’t really buy it, “What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing.” you said an octave higher than usual, “Just tired.”

Karen and Nancy had heard you were moving, but both assumed you’d tell Mike when you were ready, but now that you’re standing in front of Nancy anxiously she’s starting to wonder about the integrity of her assumption. So she crossed her arms and leaned against the door.

“You haven’t told Mike you’re going have you?”

You frowned, “No.”

She sighed upon seeing your distressed expression and looked down at your sympathetically, “... Do you want me to?”

The offer surprised you, you must’ve looked shocked because you saw her expression shift, she knew you liked him.

Fumbling with your fingers you swung from your ankles to your toes, “I don’t know- I just.”

“You like him and you’re nervous, I get it, but you should tell him before you go, get it off your chest.”

“I can’t.” you replied, “I would ruin his and El’s relationship I can’t do that to him.”

She nodded, “Okay, I’ll tell him in an hour, give you time to change your mind.”

You nodded with a smile before hearing feet along the floor.

“Change your mind about what?”

Mike appeared with a smile completely unaware of the tone of the situation.

With a new heightened awareness, you felt yourself stiffen and had that strange feeling of needing to remind yourself to breathe, “Nothing interesting.”

“Girl stuff.” Nancy clarified.

He scrunched up his face at the mention and mumbled something like ‘boring’ under his breath, you stifled a laugh as Mike tried to fit himself past Nancy. “Y/N I’m heading down to the arcade if you want to come?”

Nancy looked at you encouragingly but before you could speak he continued, “El and Max will be there as well, El wants to learn how to play.”

You internally winced and shook your head, “No, no, I’m busy, sorry.”

Watching with a pained heart you saw him accept it easily, “Of course, I’ll see you later!”

He pushed past you and grabbed his bike before riding off into Hawkin’s you sighed turning back to Nancy.

“I’ll tell him once you’re gone.”

You watched the loading truck come into view at nine am, when everyone was at school, you wondered what your friends would’ve thought of your abrupt leaving.

You decided to mail out a letter to each of your friends - even El - before you left that day, it helped the guilt bubbling in your heart.

Soon you were in a car with your parents driving to a new state looking out the window wondering if you had done the right thing.

You would not find out that it was the wrong thing.

As Mike got home he dumped his bike on the lawn before running to your door to see where you were today, he somehow missed the ‘For Sale’ sign in your lawn.

Knocking he got no answer, he peered through the windows and got more worried after seeing it was empty, he ran back to his home and rushed to find his mother, “What’s going on with Y/N’s house?”

Karen looked shocked and surprised at the question, “Don’t you remember? They’re moving today, they've probably crossed state already.”

Mike looked at his mother with a horrified expression, “No! No, I did not know that!”

“Oh,” Karen replied, “I thought she would’ve told you.”

He looked almost disgusted, “I’m leaving!”

He ran up to his room before Karen could ask him to do his chores, he grabbed his walkie-talkie and quickly screamed orders.

“Everyone arcade now! Y/N’s gone!”

Everyone got to the arcade in record time.

“Did the bad men get her? I knew something was off when she was sick oh my gosh.” Dustin wheezed still out of breath from riding here so quickly.

“No! She’s moved away.”

“WHAT?”

Mike then broke down what happened, Will looking a little sadder and guilty than most.

“Well, it explains the thing she gave me.” Will mumbled causing all eyes to fall on him.

“Which was?” Mike pressed.

“It’s a book, filled with drawings of us.” he explained grabbing it out of his backpack, “All of us together.”

Mike grabbed it from Will’s hands and flicked through all the drawings, he landed on one that stuck with him the most.

It was him and Y/N, both smiling brightly and fighting her favourite Dungeon’s and Dragons creature. They were both smiling at each other in victory.

He found something between a frown and smile on his face as he looked at them, the Party looked at him with a small frown.

“I need to go home before Neil gets mad, it’s family night.” Max explained, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Soon the others followed in tow and Will left the drawings with Mike and El who sat next to each other. El put her hand on Mike’s knee and squeezed it.

“It’s okay.”

“What?” Mike asked looking away from the drawings and to El.

“You like Y/N,” she clarified, “I understand now. You should be with her.”

Mike looked at her shocked and trying to grab words, “N-No I don’t-”

“We’re friends Mike. Friends don’t lie.”

He paused as she smiled and sat up seeing Hopper’s car pulling in, “I need to go, good luck.”

Mike stared at her with eyes shaking and slowly filling with water, he stared down at the images once more with too many thoughts and conflicts for a kid thirteen.

He didn’t want Y/N to go.

He biked home as quick as his unathletic self could manage, he ran inside and up towards Nancy’s room.

“Nancy I need your help.” Mike panted, Nancy looked at him and managed to put two and two together staring at her watery-eyed brother.

“Karen said they’d send their number once they settled down, you might have to wait a while,” Nancy explained with a frown.

“But I want to speak to her now,” he mumbled walking closer to Nancy.

“I know,” he replied clutching Mike in her arms, “I know, just be patient.”

“D-Did she like me? Or did she not tell us because she doesn’t like us? Is that it?”

“No.” Nancy interrupted, “Y/N really liked you, Mike, she was scared to tell you.”

“But I’m going to miss her.” he said tears now falling down his face, “I just need one more day with her.”

Nancy clutched him tighter and tried to soothe her brother, but soon his body was shaking the feeling of tears fell on her shoulder, “I’m so sorry Mike I should’ve told you.”

Mike pulled up startled, “Wait. You knew she was leaving and you didn’t tell me?”

Nancy saw Mike’s angered face and tried to reach out to him but he stepped back his eyebrows narrowing, “You knew!”

Nancy couldn’t plead her case before her door was violently slammed by Mike as he rushed towards his room locking the door and panting his eyes watery and body still shaking. He wandered to his window slowly and stared at the bare white walls of your room remembering days when you would talk to each other for hours.

Mike was confused, he felt something for you he didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. You were gone.

He was left with your white curtains in the breeze.

Tell me your thoughts xxx

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanons #stranger things oneshot #stranger things fic #mike wheeler oneshot #mike wheeler #mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler imagine #mike wheeler headcanon

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mlmichaelharrison · 6 years

Text

Dark Secrets - Damien Nazario x MC (Kai)

Outline: gender-neutral MC (called Kai as it's the default name) and Damien start their traditional viewing of A Battle of Crowns together when Kai finds one of Damien’s deepest, darkest secrets… Warnings: swearing, slow burn relationship, mentions of alcoholism Word count: 2,681 (I'm so sorry haha) Hope you like it!

As Damien opened the door to his apartment, you’re greeted by a man you hardly recognized. “Whoa… who are you?” You asked with a slight laugh, and Damien looked at you, confused before he realized what you were referring to and took his thin-framed glasses off instantly. “You saw nothing.” He rushed and stepped aside for you to walk in. “Were those reading glasses?” You teased and pried and he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. “We don’t all have perfect eyesight like you.” “Aww, you said I’m perfect!” “That was absolutely not what I just said, but sure.” He said, shaking his head as he locked his door up. “You really are secure, aren’t you?” You said, watching him slide bolt after bolt over the door. He shrugged. “I’m a P.I, what more do you expect? People have wanted me dead before, I’m not taking any chances!” he chuckled as you slumped onto his couch, looking at the TV which wasn’t on. Odd, he almost always has the TV on. “I bet you’re hiding some really dark secrets in here…” You teased and he rolled his eyes. “Legal case files and documents lying around, handgun in my drawer, all of my personal details; my apartment is definitely not one for any random member of public.” He responded, sitting down next to you and turning the TV on, the channel currently on a radio station. “Oh, what station is that?” You asked excitedly and he smiled, unmuting it and letting You Really Got Me Going by The Kinks play through his sound system. He looked over at them, tapping his foot lightly as he recited the words to himself. You really got me going, you got me so I don’t know what I’m doing now. Yeah, you really got me now, you got me so I can’t sleep at night. “One of the only good stations out there. Rock classics. Mostly from the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. I say rock, but they also play punk, punk rock, some metal-” “Wait.” You interrupted and he looked abruptly at you, cocking an eyebrow up. “You have a handgun?” You asked in shock. He shrugged and nodded. “Well, yeah. As I said, I’m a private investigator and I’ve had my life threatened more than once. Self-defence.” You looked at him a little longer and he rolled his eyes. “Of course I have a licence, Kai, I’m not an idiot.” He said as if reading your mind. You breathe out a sigh of relief, and then the curiosity crept back. “That’s so cool, can I see it?” “Of course not. I'm not an idiot, but you sure are.” He responded with a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, please, D. I just want to see it!” “If you can find it.” He said, turning back to the screen and starting to flick through channels. You took this as a challenge, jumping up and opening drawers frantically. Damien rolled his eyes at you but was still smiling. You rummaged through some drawers, finding pens, torches, paper clips and huge abundances of paper, but no gun. Feeling a little defeated and not wanting to invade his personal space more, you start to close the drawer, before your eye caught something. A small, biro drawing of some flowers. You smiled a little and reopened the drawer, scanning the slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Flowers of the fields What do they know? How many lovers have they seen Tumble through the snow?

Though they struggle through Winter They always make it through, And in Spring they are reborn Into something beautifully new.

You smile to yourself at the amazing discovery you had just made. Damien writes poetry. You can’t help yourself from moving that sheet aside and eagerly try to read the next piece.

Good people are a rare thing, So hold on while you can- They’ll be there for you through everything And they’ll be your biggest fans.

Good people are a rare thing, But you have somehow found them. This is me reminding: Don’t fuck this up, Damien!

You grinned more and looked at the small, printed photo of you, him and Nadia paper clipped to it. You took a look at the next one.

“The whiskey only speaks so loudly And it never says enough, But it’s the only comforter On nights that are too rough” - d.n.

You frown a little upon reading that one and turn cautiously towards Damien. You can’t help but feel a little guilty. Firstly, you were definitely invading his privacy, but then you remembered that that’s his job, so you shouldn’t feel guilty doing it back. He also managed to find all of your diaries and read everything from your teenage years, luckily narrowly avoiding the more recent ones, so this was payback! Secondly, this showed that he does have emotions, and he doesn’t have a great way of dealing with them. He bottles it all up and downs bottles of alcohol. Not exactly healthy. You stare at his face as it’s illuminated by the flickers of the TV. His dark brown eyes seem glued to the screen and his hair has started to overgrow a bit. He rested his head on his fist and had his legs curled up on the couch where you otherwise would have sat. He smiled a little and you heard canned laughter, smiling a little to yourself as his face changed. He was beautiful.

You turned back into the drawer and noticed that there were so many more- a huge clump of paper all with stanzas scattered across them. There must have been nearly 100 pieces there. As you skimmed your hand over one, a bit of wet ink smudged under your fingertip. You were surprised at how recently it was written, and couldn’t keep your curiosity at bay.

Insp: Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve) - The Buzzcocks

I’m trapped And you could never know. I’m wrapped Up in fantasies. Too slow.

You frowned again, assuming that this was about his ex-partner that he very rarely talks about. He’s only ever spoken about her when drunk or as a truth or dare question, never on his own accord.

I’m out of the picture, A dirty wreck living in reverse Because if I say, I risk losing you And that is far worse.

I’ve fallen in love with someone I shouldn’t have- I’m lost for words and -

“Oi! Out of there!” Damien snapped suddenly, making you jump and drop the papers. “Sorry, but those are strictly forbidden!”

“But D,” you whined softly.

He hadn’t realized how out of it he was. He hadn’t slept all night, instead working on a case, and he was going to catch up with sleep now. But, of course, he had planned to watch the new episode of A Battle of Crowns with Kai; it was their tradition. They always came early, though, so they could catch up or watch shitty comedies, but he hadn’t realized that during the shitty comedy he was watching that he forgot that Kai was even there. When he looked up at them from the TV screen, he was horrified to find that they were standing at the chest of drawers that he kept his work in. He didn’t mean to snap, he just panicked.

“No, Kai!” He whined back, his face growing redder. “I had no idea you wrote poetry!” He visibly cringed as they said it aloud. “Sh, keep your voice down, someone could hear you.” “Damien, what are you ashamed of? They’re beautiful!” He rolled his eyes, but actually felt a small sense of pride. No one had read any of his work before, so hearing that it was actually good from someone was really nice for him. But, of course, he’d never show that. He looked at the piece on top of the pile and his eyes widened. “Whoa! Not that one! That one is definitely off limits!” He said, panic setting in as his heart rate increased and palms started sweating. He reached to take it but Kai picked it up first and held it up high. “I thought that they were all ‘strictly forbidden’?” Kai said, smiling. They didn’t quite realize the weight of the work they held or why it was so important that they didn’t see it. Damien sighed. “Well, yes, they are, but that one in particular-” He cut himself off with a grunt as he reached for it. Kai laughed lightly and leaned further back, their back resting on top of the cabinet as they held it at arm's length upwards. Damien started to panic more, because if Kai doesn’t realize who the poem is about now, they’re damn going to know by the end of the poem when it says their name. He pushed Kai further against the cabinet and pressed his entire body against theirs, trying to reach the piece of paper. Every inch of their bodies were touching, and their faces only a tiny distance apart, and they could feel each other’s breaths on their skin. Damien took a moment to look down at Kai’s face as they tried to read the weirdly angled sheet of paper. He could stare at their face for hours, sometimes has. Every now and then, if they see a movie, he’ll spend most of the time watching their reactions and how their emotions change their face and- seriously, hours. He stared at them now, their smile wide as they squirmed. He imagined keeping them pinned down and catching their lips in his. He imagined wrapping his arms around them right now and kissing their lips over and over and over again. He licked his lips quickly and leaned a bit closer before gaining control over himself and reaching up higher, but to no avail. Kai snorted at him and he squinted his eyes in response. “I will win.” They mumbled and Damien shook his head. “Not on my watch.” He moved his body off of theirs and instead climbed on top of the cabinet, snatching the paper from their hands and sitting on top of the chest of drawers, leaning his back against the wall and sighing with relief. He let his legs dangled over the edge and he folded the paper up into a tiny size before putting it in his back pocket. Kai huffed and folded their arms and Damien, breathless, stuck his tongue out in response. He looked at them for a moment, seeing the disappointment in their face, and felt guilty. “Fine…” He said after a moment of silence. He rolled his eyes and jumped down, rummaging through the pieces of paper and handing his friend one of them. “That’s one I’m okay with you reading. But if you dare tell anyone about these…” He trailed off as Kai’s smile widened and made him love fall in love with them again. He felt the familiar warmth and tightness in his chest and his throat felt as though it had constricted. Heat started to rise to his cheeks and he quickly looked away. “Yeah, don’t tell anyone. Out of the two of us, I’m the one with a gun.” He said quickly, feeling a stabbing pain in his chest when they laughed. Just as he moved to close the drawer, Kai wrapped their arms around him tightly. He froze and clenched his jaw closed before wrapping one arm around them. They had no idea what they were doing to him. He closed his eyes and sighed before moving to shut the drawer. “I’m getting locks on this tomorrow. I’m not joking.” He said, whilst Kai’s eyes scanned the page he gave them.

He’ll never be okay again - Not by the Spring, When the flowers bloom, Nor by the Summer, [...]

Damien watched Kai’s eyebrows furrow as they read it through. He stared at their perfect features illuminated by the small amount of light in his apartment. He appreciated the silence they gave and how respectful they were of his work. He had to look away again and gave himself something to do as they continued to read. He changed the TV channel back to the radio station he was playing earlier when he wrote about Kai, Astro Zombies by The Misfits playing now. He played the radio station earlier for some nostalgia- and as he was dancing through his apartment, the Buzzcocks’ song stuck out to him as something he could relate to. Something… inspiring. He got his glasses and a biro and started scribbling out the poem.

Kai was still silently reading this one, one written about his partner from years ago, rewritten recently. He hardly related to it anymore, but was determined to make it better.

[...] When the radios boom, Nor by the Autumn, When the clouds loom, Nor by next Winter,

Never again.

Kai bit their lip as it quivered a bit. He’ll never be okay again. Kai wished they could make him okay. They wished they could just say it and for once he would actually believe it. They longed to be able to come home to him and be able to hug him and to be able to count his drinks and tell him to slow down and to be able to tell him when he’s overworking himself- “Shit, are you okay?” Damien asked, a little panicked by the tear that dripped down their face. They smiled a little and nodded, unconvincingly, dropping down onto the couch. “I’m sorry, perhaps I should have found a more uplifting one for you-” “It’s about you, right?” Kai asked, taking Damien by surprise. He looked down and simply shrugged. “He? He is you, right?” They asked again, more insistent. Damien sat up on the sofa, muting the TV. “Yes, but it’s okay now.” “Are you sure about that?” Kai turned to him and he looked around, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, why not?” He said in a lighthearted tone. Kai just stared at him. “Okay, well I’m better about the subject, at least. It doesn’t weigh me down as much. I’m fine, honest, I’m fine.”

Kai stared at his face a little longer. They just wanted to lean into him, cup his face and kiss him to say I know you aren't alright but I want to help fix that. He wanted the same, and subconsciously leaned towards them in anticipation. He wondered if their lips would feel as soft as they looked. He wished he could find out, just lean a little closer… He moved back again. “Anyways, let’s never mention my… writing… ever again, and let’s watch this show.” He said, changing the channel back and unmuting it. The title credits were rolling and he rested his chin on his fist again, glancing over at Kai who wiped their eyes clean and settled down to watch. The words in his pocket felt burnt into him as the darn song repeated in his head.

I’m trapped And you could never know. I’m wrapped Up in fantasies. Too slow.

I’m out of the picture, A dirty wreck living in reverse Because if I say, I risk losing you And that is far worse.

I’ve fallen in love with someone I shouldn’t have- I’m lost for words and spend every night alone Thinking about how they smile And how their arms feel like home.

But if I were ever to say that, I’d break everything. And if I stay silent, I break myself. There really is no winning, So, I guess I’ll just stay stealth

About how I’ve fallen in love with you And I know that I shouldn’t have- But the way you say my name Makes me wish you’d feel it back.

And when I look into your eyes It makes me feel like dirt, Because you are everything perfect And there is so much more that you deserve.

You deserve this “perfect match” And you deserve to have a good friend. And though, holy fuck, Kai, it hurts, I’d never want it to end.

A/N: Hi! I've never ever publicly posted fanfiction before so I guess this is new? Anyways, I'm a writer and poet, so if you want to request anything just let me know and I'd be glad to write you something when I can! I've currently only played Perfect Match and The Freshman/Sophomore/Junior (what a disappointing start to the Junior am I right lmao), and I'm playing a few more (currently developing a love for Drake 😍). If you're interested in other writing/poetry let me know and I can link my wattpad???

Thanks for reading if you did! - Cj

#I'm sorry it's so long!!!#hope you like my nerdy gay ass poetry!#let me know what you think!#choices damien #damien nazario #pm damien #damien x mc #damien

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scenarioslovers · 7 years

Text

Memory Rewind>> Mark, You (Part 3)

(Part 1 | 2)

Theme song~

It had been a week since you stopped visiting him

He couldn’t remember you, he even didn’t believe you once excited in his life.

The box that was filled with presents and letters didn’t prove anything. He should believe his parents’ words, but it just made no sense. He remembered everyone, but you.

Why you?

He sometimes wished he could tell you to stop coming, that he didn’t know you at all. But he saw how sincere you were, your hidden tears, the hurt in your eyes. It all told him that he had forgotten someone important to him.

He realized how happy he was to see you every day. He was grateful for your effort that you spent on him this whole year, and was sorry that he couldn’t remember you. Even how much he tried so much to remember, you weren’t there anymore.

Now that you stopped visiting, he found himself waiting for your visit every day. But you didn’t come anymore.

“Mom,” Mark didn’t know where to start. He had been thinking about her for days that it was hard to breathe sometimes. “Who is she? Y/N I mean.”

“Your girlfriend, I told you that already.” She said, giving him a small smile.

“That’s it?”

“I thought a girlfriend is already someone important. Or what do you think?”

“No, she could be someone I was with to kill time with, but…”

“She is too loyal that you think she is someone who means more to you?” His mom completed for him, surprising him.

He bit his lips and nodded. He hated to admit that he had feelings for someone who he didn’t know or even remember. “Yeah, and there is Rena… She’s acting differently. I know she is my girlfriend, but then Y/N… I don’t know.”

His mom didn’t say anything and just sighed.

“Why did I forget about her if she is that important to me?”

“You know Mark, I could have blamed her for what happened to you. You got into an accident while trying to save her and her baby.” His mom smiled. Tears started to well up in her eyes. “I could have hated her for what had happened to you, but I couldn’t.”

“Her baby?” Mark’s eyes widened. His heart clenched hard in his chest. Baby! She was pregnant?

“I talked too much.” His mother cleared her throat, wiping tears with the back of her hands. “You are being discharged tomorrow. You should rest well.”

“Mom! You can’t leave me like this.” Mark snapped, feeling panicked. “You should tell me everything. She was pregnant?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Mark.” His mother said firmly. “She had been through a lot of pain already. It would be better if we just let her live her life now.”

“I don’t understand.” Mark shook his head, trying to adjust his mother's words, with how you smiled every day at him, with how you held your tears in, with how you looked so shocked when he didn’t remember you. “Is that child mine? Then what happened to it? Mom, please.”

“The doctor said it will be hard for you if you remembered now.” She looked at him, sadly. “And I don’t want to lose you again, Mark.”

Mark started at nowhere as his mother left the room. They weren’t telling him everything. You were hiding something from, but why?

Hurrying to the cupboard, Mark found the box you brought with you a couple of weeks ago. He refused to look at him because it was no use. He wouldn’t remember you anyway. But now, he wanted to remember you.

Who are you? And why? Why only you?

Opening the box, Mark gasped as the first thing he saw was a wedding invitation. Mark & Y/N with a cute drawing of a bride and a groom that was clearly your style of drawing. The wedding day was supposed to be three weeks after the accident. It wasn’t only the wedding invitation card that broke his heart.

There were so many pictures of the two of you and both looked so happy and loving. Pictures of you while you were working, probably he was the one capturing them. A Picture of him while he was sleeping or helping in cleaning.

There was a book when he opened was full with his handwriting and highlight over some lines and a handwriting he didn’t recognize.

He forgot all this. He forgot all those smiles and memories about those days.

And then there was the baby sonar scan image, he felt bang in his heart as he saw it. He didn’t even remember this.

“What-Why did I forget all of these?” Mark clenched on his heart that was hurting so much at this moment. Tears streamed down his cheek as he kept looking at what was inside the box.

“Mark?”

Mark looked up to see Rena looking at him with horrified eyes. She was at a loss for words, her eyes were bigger than their normal size.

“Why did you tell me?” He pushed a few pictures towards her.

“I did something horrible to you, Mark.” Rena admitted, “But you forgot about it and I still love you. It is a miracle for me that you love me.”

“Do I?” Looking at her, Mark no longer had a soul inside of him. “How long were you planning to lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie.” She snapped. “Maybe I’m not girlfriend anymore.”

“She was going to be my wife? Rena!!!” Mark snapped. “Why did she stop coming here, Rena?”

Rena bit her lips that were quivering at this point. “Why do you always fall in love with her? I once was as important to you as she is for you. Can’t you see me?”

“Rena! Tell me what happened?”

“I told her to leave you alone.” Rena snapped, tears soaking her face. “I never thought she would actually listen to me. She never listened to me. She is hurt by you, Mark. It’s you who pushed her away.”

“I didn’t!” But Mark knew he did. Not remembering her was enough to push her away. Worse, he didn’t have feelings for her anymore.

“I’m so sorry, Mark.” Rena gave him an apologizing look. “I was trying so hard to-”

“Get out, Rena.” Mark looked at her with sharp angry eyes. “I don’t want to see you again.”

Mark couldn’t sleep that night. Sleeping was something he had done for a year, leaving a girl he loved behind him, watching him day and night without any sleep.

Holding her picture and the baby’s picture in his hands, he memorized every detail about each picture. How tiny the baby is in his mother’s abdominal.

He memorized your face and your smile. Even though he already had been stealing glances at you when you visited, but in this picture, you looked happier, your smile was real and clear.

Mark froze in his place as he felt something moving outside of his room’s door. Placing the pictures of the night stand, he opened the door, only to find you sitting next to the door. Your eyes wide in shock and your mouth was slightly open.

“M-Mark, H-hey.” You smiled, stepping away from him as you stood on your feet. “Why are you still awake?”

“What are you doing here?” Mark asked, his eyes cold that it sent a shiver down your arms.

Chuckling nervously, you looked everywhere, but at him. “You probably don’t want to see me. I will go now.”

“I was waiting for you.” Mark’s voice pinned your legs to the floor. Your heart leaped. However, you didn’t turn to face him or said anything so Mark continued. “I waited for you every day and every night. But you never came. I was so disappointed and so lonely. Did you feel like this while waiting for me to wake up?”

“Mark.” You turned and yelped when you came face to face with Mark. You didn’t know when he came this close to you. You took a step backward, to give him personal space. A space that killed you every day.

“But I just waited for you for a week. You waited for a year.” He said. His eyes looked so sad that it hurt to look at.

“I still came every day. I couldn’t not to see you. But I never got the courage not to see you.” You admitted, playing with your fingers.

“You always do that when you are nervous.” Mark pointed out at your fingers, which made you smile. Mark commented on that habit of yours before.

“Yeah, habits die hard.” You chuckled but stopped when you looked up at meet Mark’s eyes.

“Why did you stop coming?” Mark asked, with a serious expression.

“I couldn’t force you to remember me or love me again. I’m selfish just thinking about myself but never thought of how you feel.” You smiled, looking away. “I’m surprised that you waited for me. Thank you.”

“I missed you.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at Mark. “Huh?”

“I guess when you lose memory, habits do not go away.” He said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. It reminded you of the first day Mark confused his feelings for you and the day he proposed to you.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I miss you. Somehow, I like it when you are around.”

You smiled shyly. “I’ve to go.”

“Are you leaving again?” Mark said before you could turn and leave. “Just stay with me. I want to ask you about many things. I want to remember you.”

“But it could be hard for you, Mark. You may not even remember anything.”

“Then let’s make new memories together, Y/N. Let’s build up our memories again if I don’t remember.” Mark said, desperate. “Are you willing to make it with me?”

Your hand snapped over your mouth to hold a sob from skipped your mouth. You nodded, as Mark pulled you into his arm, breaking all the personal spaces. He was holding tightly on you as if he was scared you would vanish or disappear.

“Let’s start again.”

You nodded against his shoulder, holding him tightly.

“How was our first date? How did I ask you out?” He asked with a smile as he tilted his head downwards to see your face.

You chuckled, remembering his try to flirt with you. “You asked me if It hurt when I fell because I’m an angel.”

“No, I didn’t.” He looked horrified at you.

“Yes, you did.” You chuckled. “I thought you were cheesy, but when I went out with you I found out that you could be cheesier.”

“Well, that’s true.” He nodded, admitting it himself. “Then let me ask you out again.” He cleared his throat and you cringed hoping that he will not do the same thing again.

But this time it was different. Mark suddenly kneeled in front of you, making you panic. “Wait, wait, wait.” You said, trying to get him on his feet. “What are you doing?”

“Asking you out?” Mark smiled as he reached for your hand, you blinked many times.

“Y/N.. Will you accept me back. I’m stupid enough to forget about you. I’m willing to save you 1000 more times if I had to, as long as you are healthy and living well with your beautiful smile.”

You smiled back at him.

“Will you be my girlfriend again?”

End

Because I didn’t find a suitable GIF except for this one. Deal with it.

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gearsforyears · 7 years

Note

Prompt Request: Danny and friends discovering an in-universe phansite dedicated to speculating about the local ghost boy and his shenanigans.

This??? Was so??? Much fun??? To write?????? Thank you so much for the prompt!!! ;w;

“Danny! You have to see this!”

Said halfa in question groaned; he, Sam, and Tucker were busy trying to get homework done before patrol that night. And with the way his grades are currently? Yeah, getting distracted was something he didn’t need at the moment. But Tucker stretched his arms way above his head, letting loose a groan as Danny heard his bones pop, “Hey, you guys up for a five minute break?”

Sam curled her toes to get some feeling back into them before standing up, “Yep. How about you, Danny?”

Despite the urge to do his homework like he was determined to do, Danny had to admit that a break sounded amazing. They had been doing Precalculus for a good hour, and his brain needed rest, “Sure. But we should get this finished before patrol…” He warned.

“Oh, c’mon Danny; we’ll get it all done before tonight,” Tucker rolled his eyes. Sam was walking out the door already with her arms above her head, fitted comfortably in Danny’s sweatshirt and a pair of Tucker’s cargo pants. The technofreak still had no clue how she got a hold of their clothes when they weren’t looking, but he dismissed the suspicions to keep talking, “Besides, Jazz sounded excited about something.”

Sam looked over her shoulder, “Let’s just hope it’s not a new psychology therapy session theory she wants to try out on us.” She shivered before continuing, “I still remember the last time she tried something in those college books of hers on us.”

It was Danny’s turn to roll his eyes at his friends before ushering them out into the hallway and hurriedly making their way into Jazz’s overly pink room. Said sister was curled up in her chair in front of her computer screen, her face red and a smile plastered on her face. Danny wasn’t sure what was making her convulse in the manner she was, but after a moment realized that his sister was laughing.

She pulled her orange hair up into a tight bun and wiped any stray tears from her eyes before leaning out of the chair to stand up, “Y-You guys have at it. I need to get something to calm me down…” She let out a laugh behind a hand, “By the Ancients, the comments are hilarious.”

Danny raised an eyebrow at the curse, recognizing as something that he says too often for his own good. But the surprise quickly went away as he saw the black, white, and green background of Jazz’s computer screen. He sat down in the chair and read the blog title, ‘The Phantom Conspiracy!’

Tucker let out a small breath he wasn’t sure he was holding before jumping into Danny’s lap to see the computer better, to which Danny groaned at the unexpected weight, “You’re too heavy, get off.”

“Stop whining!” Tucker cheekily smiled, “Besides, I’m not that heavy, and you have super strength.”

“Get used to it, Danny,” Sam smirked before collapsing on top of both of them, making the two of them groan beneath her, “Either you make room, or you deal with the two of us.” She popped her gum loudly to make her point, earning her a glare from the two boys below her.

They settled into the chair quickly, Danny supporting both friends’ weight on his legs. As they all found a comfortable position, the three juniors read a few of the articles to themselves.

“Danny, Danny, click on that one! It’s all fanfiction about you!” Tucker pointed and practically yelled. A click later, and the techie was guffawing, getting himself drunk on the giggles that the new page produced, “People ship you with other ghosts! Look, even with our infamous Red Huntress! And Box Ghost!”

Danny rolled his eyes and clicked away from the page, not wanting to have Tucker beg him to read some of the more smutty stories on the site. How was that even allowed on a public internet server? He wasn’t even human! Sam leaned over the two of them and pointed to a tab that Danny clicked, “The Phantom Experience? Why does this sound like a spa treatment?”

He gave out a sigh as he clicked on the page, already feeling slightly uncomfortable with the entire website. Danny vaguely wondered who would even start a blog like this, and how the hell was it so popular?! “Is this… An origin story?”

“WHAT?!” Danny and Tucker leaned in closer, and Tuck read the article out loud for everyone to listen to, “‘Danny Phantom, the mysterious ghost boy, had appeared almost two years ago to save the residents of Amity Park. But where did this ghost come from? There aren’t any reported deaths of people who look exactly like the ghost-’ Dude! This is totally an origin story!”

“Well? What does it say?” Danny asked, with a newfound fervor. With all the other supers in the world, he didn’t want people to think he had a lame origin. What if the freaking Batman found out if he had a horrible backstory? (Although, Danny still wasn’t too impressed that he him having half-died is his origin, seeing as Superman came from an entirely different planet, but he could deal with it).

Sam scanned the page quickly, and pointed near the end, drawing their attention to a hand drawn picture of the halfa with a section under it, “It says here that you died thousands of years ago!”“That doesn’t make any sense!” Danny exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. A groan escaped his lips as he covered his face with a hand, feeling his cheeks and ears flame up a bit at the inaccuracies, “What feasible proof is there?”

“Remember ol’ Vladdie man taking the Infimap from the Far Frozen clan?” Danny looked up, slightly horrified that someone traced him back that far, “Looks like someone in Rome wrote about you, and same in ancient China, and again in Salem. People seem to think you liked to lay low then, but now feel a duty to protect this place in particular because of all the ghost attacks.”

“Why would anyone want to know my history that badly?” He murmured. Danny had to admit that he felt almost violated at the blogger’s want to find out more about him. He looked at the author and saw a familiar name, “Paulina?!”

Sam nodded, taking the mouse and clicking on a few other articles, “Seems like she’s written a majority of these, actually.” The goth leaned in closer to the screen, “She’s not that bad a a writer. Huh.”

“Can we get back on topic here?” Danny practically groaned, rubbing his temples. He was going to need so much aspirin to get rid of the headaches this was giving him, “I thought this was supposed to be funny, not mortifying.”

A few clicks, and Tucker got them to the comment section of the origin story that Paulina had written out. Said technofreak slipped off of the armrest and landed directly in the center of Danny’s lap, making him cringe while Tucker stared at the screen in awe, “Oh. My. God. Wes posted about you being Phantom online!”

Sam leaned closer as well, deciding to ruin Danny’s night more by falling into Tucker’s lap so the both of them were once again crushing Danny beneath them. A majority of the messages were from Wes Weston, the brat that was constantly trying to get Danny in trouble and casually spread his secret around like the common cold. But she had to admit, the conversations in the comments were hilarious.

WWeston: Phantom isn’t that old! He’s fucking 16! It’s Danny Fenton, you guys are all idiots!

Beauty Queen: Wes can i post one thing on this blog without you claiming this every time?

StarQuarterback: theres??? proof??? in the article??? about phantom being in rome? wes can you stfu

WWeston: I have literally seEN FENTON TURN INTO PHANTOM HES NOT THAT SECRETIVE ABOUT IT HE DOESNT CARE IF YOU SEE HIM

Beauty Queen: Are you just jealous because Phantom was crowned honorary homecoming King and you werent?

WWeston: 1, YOU GAVE THE CROWN TO PHANTOM and 2, I WOULDNT BE JEALOUS OF A FENTON

KwanL: God, wes, just let it go.

Beauty Queen: He’s totally jealous of Phantom, someone make some fanfiction of these two omfg

WWeston: HES FENTON AND IM NOT FUCKIN GAY

StarQuarterback: It’s not gay if he’s dead, bro. We got you a tshirt about it man

WWeston: I burned it. I’m not wearing anything involving that half-ghost freak! And it’s stILL GAY

KwanL: What the hell are you talking about???? Phantom is a ghost, it’s impossible for a half-ghost to exist. Get your ass out of fairytale land mr.basketball

Now was when Danny had finally found the entire endeavor of reading these worth his time away from homework. Wes had an account on a Danny Phantom blog to rant to others about how he was half-ghost, and the best part was no one believed him. How stupid could people get?

And Mr. Basketball? Danny had to remember to use that line next time he saw the redhead approach him with his newest conspiracy about him. He looked over to see Sam on the floor, clutching her stomach, and Tucker, who was still seated in Danny’s lap, was halfway out of the chair, tears streaming down his face. A knock resounded in the room, and Jazz came back in with cups of tea for everyone, “T-To soothe your throats from… pffft… the laughing.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Basketball,” Tuck’s statement sent everyone into another round of laughter, and Danny had to admit. Sometimes, it was good to take a break.

#Danny Phantom #i had so much fun???? Thank you so much anon!#DP #phandom #samantha manson #tucker foley #Jazz fenton #Danny fenton

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