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warmau · 3 years

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not knowing what to say isn't a foreign feeling to you, yet when you come face to face with ten outside his apartment on this summer morning, you are almost too petrified to even string a sentence together

he's really just........leaving

ten shines a big smile and from the open door you hear kun's exasperated voice asking why in the world ten is packing up his entire existence for a program that's going to last two months

"you look nervous"

ten jokes first, running a hand through his dark hair which he's spent the colder months growing out

"im the one going to a different country and yet you look like you might turn green"

his laughter tickles you and you force yourself out of the weird, frozen feeling, for his sake

"im not nervous - it's just this is our first summer apart since what, highschool?"

ten leans against the frame of his door and lets kun scuttle past him with a scowl

yangyang and hendery bounce after him with ten's insane amount of luggage

"yeah but it's two months, not two decades. plus....you know how much ive always wanted to do this."

right. and here you are being selfish.

"of course, i mean it's literally the birthplace of ballet."

"technically that's italy, but france is a close second."

"i hate you"

ten pulls you into his arms before you register that this is your goodbye hug

"i'll miss you too."

kun drives everyone to the airport, he complains and cries the most.

sicheng gives you a knowing look when ten takes your wrist in his hand and tucks your arm between his.

you ignore the look, and focus on ten. on him. and then - when the switchboard pops up his flight info - he gives a bubbly and excited

"ive gotta go!"

and then summer starts, just as he's gone

"so when are you going to tell him you're in love with him."

sicheng brings the big gulp he stole from hendery up to his lips and you keep your eyes closed behind your sunglasses

"sorry, yukhei's not my type."

"you know im not talking about yukhei."

you dig your fingers into the sand beside your towel, the beach is already so noisy so you pretend you don't hear sicheng, but you still feel him looking.

you guess a part of it is true, you love ten. who doesn't?

is that the core of the issue then, that ten is so available and loveable and charming, that it makes him also unattainable?

or at least, unattainable to you.

you hear your phone buzz inside your bag and sicheng is being dragged into the water by the rowdy rest of your friend group

it could be a text from ten?

your mind excites, but you put out that fire

it's probably just spam.

ten does text and even video call the first two or so weeks while he's away

you get blurry photos of food at cafes and the eiffel tower, random fancy looking dogs being walked on the small, cramped streets

ten's connection is kind of bad - but he still gleams through the fuzzy facetime camera as he shows you around the room the dance academy has provided

pangs of his happiness and excitement seep into you

and then there's the first sign of worry comes knocking and twirling through his door

a group of other dancers, all beautiful and strong, asking ten - from the limited amount of french you catch - if he's done, they're waiting for him to go to a show with them

ten gives you a scattered, quick goodbye. he says he'll video call again.

all you get is an update text almost five days later that has no pictures attached just a;

im ok - by the way i totally miss eating hot chips with you at midnight. ive had like a banana smoothie and that's it.

sicheng and kun are the first to pick up on the shift, you are quietly withdrawing to yourself

nothing makes you laugh

ten doesn't reply to your question about what the paris metro looks like, actually he doesn't even read it

kun nearly tugs hendery's ear red when he shares a snap story of ten pressed cheek to cheek with his new dancer friends in front of the louvre when you're in the same room

the thing is you are not jealous of any of them.

you don't go around trying to find their facebooks, clicking on their instagram profiles, comparing you and them.

you are just sad to your bones that they will understand ten in such a way that no matter how long you two have been friends

you will never, truly know

"you're his best friend"

sicheng reasons on the phone as you stare up at the wall above your desk, littered in old pictures and clippings and your gaze catches on the ticket stub from ten's first-ever solo dance performance

it had been a talent show in highschool.

it had been the first time you saw ten perform outside the corner of his cramped bedroom or the glimpse you caught meeting up with him outside the dance academy

he's in paris, he's with people who love it so much more than i do - they love dancing like he loves dancing.

i cannot understand that.

"i think you were right sicheng."

"im always right."

i do love him. when am i going to tell him?

you hang up after sicheng has his i told you so moment and stare at your screen

a notification flashes across the screen and it's a text from ten

the trains here are blue. i miss you.

you want to reply right away, so you open the message and start typing

i miss you too. actually, i think i finally understand why people who are in love are so hurt when they're suddenly left without their other half and ten you are my o-

you delete the sentence and make a face

nice. i miss you too.

you don't send it - or at least you forget to because your fingers are shaking and you exit out of the messaging app before checking

abandoning your phone, you turn on your side and stretch your hand out to reach the edge of the bed

there's enough space between you and it for someone to fit, so you remember the countless times ten has laid there

smiling and laughing and tickling your face with his sleeping breath

you can't even recall a conversation because there have been hundreds

suddenly you feel a warmth creep up your skin

hundreds of opportunities to tell him - and each time i chose to be a coward.

"you should write him a letter."

"this isn't a movie, what - you think im going to write a letter and he'll jump on the first plane from france to come to my side?"

sicheng cocks an eyebrow as if to say it is a possibility

"no. im not writing a letter. i'll suck it up and confess when he comes back."

you somehow end up writing a letter.

maybe because you really do want to just send a long text spilling your mushy, soft, pink feelings

but you know that's just not what ten deserves

he deserves (and you do too, but you won't admit this) a face to face confession

so you start retelling the moments that flutter up in your heart whenever you think about him

how he makes the room brighter when he's in it, how he dances with every bone, joint, muscle in his body - how he approaches it with no inhibition and true devotion that paints its way across his face when he practices, how he fits perfectly into the hole that grows more massive every day you don't see him

standing there across the hall - coffee in hand, gym bag with his scuffed dance shoes

by the time you're finished - the letter is longer than you imagine. there are parts crossed and scribbled out, repetitive thoughts, and stupid little comments and metaphors that compare ten to flowers or clouds or anything else pretty in nature

you cringe at yourself, but you do feel better

it could be your outline for when the time to actually tell him comes.

you shove the papers into an envelope, write ten's name and the address of his parisian dance academy just for the irony

and then make the mistake of letting it sit on your desk

in a matter of days, it has been swallowed by a bunch of other papers and trinkets

and when you're rushing around your room trying to get ready for another adventure to the beach - sicheng clinks the lollipop against his teeth and fishes it out - curious at the stamp

"do you want me to mail this?"

he asks and you're trying to find those sunglasses you literally just bought and grumble that sure, whatever - you'll meet him out by kun's car.

halfway to the beach, you turn in horror from the passenger seat to look at sicheng in the back

your eyes like saucers and a tremor in a voice

"wait. what did you ask me back in my room?"

sicheng's big smile is red from the candy, "your letter to ten."

and there comes the second pang of dread and worry that takes the overwhelming shape of your summer

oh my god - oh my god - maybe the letter won't even make it. i mean it's a letter to france....it'll take at least a month to get there. wait - it probably didn't even have a stamp on it. oh god maybe the address was totally off and some poor stranger is about to be subjected to my very incoherent feelings.....

every day you look at your phone and there's no texts or emails or anything from ten

his social media has gone quiet too

you throw your dignity down a well and ask all your friends if they've heard from him and they all scratch their heads and say no, it's been maybe a week since they did

your stress then turns from your love letter to a possibility that ten is in trouble

he kind of thrives from attention so it is very weird that he's so off-grid

you decide finally, on the day that it's been exactly a month and one day since he was gone, to call

you hover over the facetime button - should i text him first?

with a yelp, you nearly drop and crack your screen when ten's name flashes across the screen

you settle your breathing and tell yourself he hasn't gotten the letter, there's no way - since when has snail mail been efficient?

you answer and are about to ask what's up when ten waves something into the camera

"i got your letter."

maybe you go into rigor. because ten's eyebrows knit and he asks if your connection is ok, you aren't saying anything

you don't know if it's just because you miss him so much that you're able to drag yourself back into consciousness or because you are curious, in the depths of your mind, what his reaction will be

"o-oh. right- i-"

ten frowns and you think it's coming. the rejection is coming.

"is that why you didn't answer my text? you sent the letter instead?"

"your text?"

"yeah, i said i missed you and you read it and never responded."

a peek of a smile stretches on his pretty, bare face

"i never thought you were so romantic to send a letter."

something burns on your skin but you just try to make sure your hand holding the phone doesn't shake

"im not - i just, it was dumb sicheng said i should write it because - i don't know. he's the romantic, blame him."

"you're the one that said i could make a shy tulip open its petals with my laughter."

"oh god"

that smile turns into a grin

"and that my dancing manages to cast a spell on you."

you hide your expression by turning your face

"are you going to re-read the whole thing to me?"

"should i, you're so poetic."

"don't make fun of me."

your voice is serious this time, small and huddled, because you mean it

worse than being told he doesn't feel the same is to be ridiculed for holding him in your heart like this for so long

"im not making fun of you, the letter is beautiful."

you still can't look at him, it's so ten to be kind before he's cruel

"i could never write something like that - so i thought i would just call you and say it."

you don't need to love song yourself into telling me you just see me as a friend

"i love you."

your head whips back so fast your phone drops and you curse and ten can't help but laugh

"sorry, sorry -what did you say?"

he runs a hand through his dark hair, the lighting in his room is dim and illuminates him perfectly

a large white t-shirt engulfs his slender shoulders as he sits up against the wall

"i love you. i know it's corny to confess over facetime, but im guessing it's more forgivable than text?"

a bubble bursts in your stomach and it makes you feel lightheaded and inhumanely blissful all at once

"i love you too."

"more then friends right, because your letter had this part about kissing im very interested in."

you bite back your lip and nod, both embarrassed that he'd bring that part up too but also seeing ten - your close friend, your secret love - talk about kissing you

makes some of the neurons in your body go haywire

"good, i seriously was scared you might have been pranking me with thi-"

"i would never. im not hendery."

"oh how are they, ive been super busy with the practice for a review so i haven't talked to anyone."

another thing you love about him, he keeps everyone in. he leaves none of his friends behind. he pretends like he couldn't have a care in the world, but he cares more than anyone else.

"he's ok, he almost crashed kun's car yesterday."

ten shrugs, "expected."

and like that - everything is still somehow the same. there is no awkward phase after you've talked about your feelings for each other at all.

because your love doesn't come as a one hit punch because ten is beautiful, although he is to an unfair degree

it comes from the experience of being around him. having so much of him. maybe even getting a little addicted.

you do talk more on the phone, no more long pauses even though ten's practices get more grueling and you tell him to take his time to rest

but he's sweaty on the practice room floor - texting you - telling you everything is sore but the thought of seeing you soon makes it all better

it's three days before ten is scheduled to fly back that he has his review and you are biting your fingernails waiting for him to tell you about it

when you get a youtube link at like three in the morning - you click it and someone has recorded ten's performance

somehow, he looks more graceful than you've ever seen him

a new text comes in when it's almost done

'i think i did well - can i get a reward?'

'you'll get a really good one when you're home'

he sends a winking emoji and you can't fall asleep after because you wonder what he's expecting, you'd meant a kiss - had he meant more?

you wouldn't mind that at all.

xiaojun is being pulled away from the conveyer belt by kun and hendery is asking sicheng for a sip of his starbucks as you all wait for ten's plane to land in the airport lobby

you two have not told anyone - mostly because you know there will be endless questions you won't have answers too and sicheng might literally never let you live it down

so you wait for ten to be here so you can suffer together

you see the gates from his flight open and sicheng mutters that you look like you're going to pop like a goddamn balloon

for once in your life, you don't snide back at him, folding your hands in front of you and tippy-toeing to see over the crowd

and then, like seeing him for the first time all the years ago when you first met, ten comes out

hendery and xiaojun try to go for a running jump, but the older members hold them back because everyone can sense whats coming

you dash toward him and ten doesn't stay still either - you two collide so hard it almost hurts, but you don't care at all

ten's duffel bag falls over his shoulder and your hands are wrapped around his neck before he can even say your name

it's a first kiss that couldn't be more characteristically fit for you

sweet, big smiles tasted on lips, and interrupted by none other than your group of friends gasping in a symphony of shock

except for sicheng - he knew

ten tastes like you imagine he would taste, maybe because in smaller ways you've already had doses of the sunshine that radiates off him before

he keeps his hands wrapped around your waist as he looks down into your eyes

"mon amour"

"is that really all you learned in france?"

"ummm yeah, i don't know how to say let's get out of here and back to my place even though im pretty sure someone said that to me at some point."

you pout, "don't try to make me jealous."

"never!"

ten chuckles as you press your face into his neck and hug him close

the only way you get pulled apart is because someone (kun) reminds you all you're still at the PUBLIC airport

the drive back is a frenzy and everyone wants to know everything and not about just you two - because you're "two" now - but about france and traveling and ten's dancing

like you'd sensed - nothing has really changed

just this time, your fingers are locked in tens. and the warmth you longed for in silence is suddenly all out in the open.

funnily enough, you and ten don't ever write letters to each other again.

ten just doesn't like writing - it takes too much sitting down

and you are horrified everytime he fishes your love confession out of the memory box and dangles it above your head as leverage

it's how he convinced you into adopting the first cat. now you two have three.

so when you and him are deciding the best way to let all your friends know about your upcoming event you cross out mailed invitations

"we can make an email list."

your legs are thrown over his thighs on the sofa and he's resting the laptop on you them

"let's just make an instagram post: wedding in our backyard on thursday - you're invited."

ten pinches his nose

"we are not having a backyard wedding. we could not fit everyone in my dance company into it anyway."

you play with your engagement band and sigh

"fine, fine. what about.....we just call everyone and tell them. if we call kun right now he'll let all of the world know by the end of the week."

ten agrees with a hum, but then starts typing and you lean over to see

"bulk wedding invites? you're giving in?"

he closes the laptop and tosses it to the side, easily and gently pushing you down onto your back to hover over you with a small content sound

"i am. but we don't even have to write the letters - some company will do it for us."

his lips are inches from yours and all of a sudden you're young again - waiting to kiss him for the first time at that airport

"you know we'll still have to write vows right."

he is about to kiss you, he's so close and your eyes are closing

"i'll just read your letter outl-"

"TEN NO!"

he laughs, laughs until he finally does kiss you and then laughs again when he pulls back - the overflowing amount of love that exists in that moment is potent

you tell him to get over that old thing, but he shakes his head

"never, when again in all the lives i live is someone going to say i could make a shy tulip open its petals with my laughter?"

#i know his bday was in february please im still working through them cries #ten au #ten imagines #ten scenarios #nct au #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv au #wayv scenarios #sfw #nostolgic!au #ten #member: ten #im sicheng through all this

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seriously-really-soft · 3 years

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“When your dad makes you cry because he’s a dishonest, two faced piece of poop you would forgive so easily if only he cared enough to see how deeply he has been hurting you but he’s not going to and he’ll probably never change and will continue to put you through increasingly emotionally/physically devastating and insecure situations”

Warnings: abuse, abusive family situation, trauma tw, emotional and physical abuse mention, mentions of sorrow and grief

Nanami and Choso

Sukuna

It’s not the first time he’s caught you crying over this, and it never hurts any less each time he gets to witness how the grief and sorrow wash over your being. Sometimes it’s in the shower, when you’ve been sad and strong for far too long and can’t hold yourself up anymore, when you’ve been alone for so long you don’t realize your sobs and choked breath can be heard from outside, and maybe sometimes in the back of your head you do know but trying to quieten yourself only leads you curling more towards yourself on the floor. He does hear it, and it pierces into his very being - the deep misery and hurt, the resentment and love you don’t quite know where to place anymore - he can feel it. He hates it when anyone so much as speaks to you meanly, and he hates it even more that somebody who was supposed to love you and keep you safe, somebody you still try so hard to see the good in and for whom you still hold such softness, hurt you so bad.

He’s unbelievably gentle with you, holds you with such tenderness and takes the time to show your person so much love. He’ll detangle your hair for you and leave kisses all over your hands, back, face, and forehead. When he holds you he makes sure you’re warm and cozy wrapped in a soft, freshly washed blanket, tucked into his four arms. Sukuna makes it a point to show you that he loves you unconditionally, that someone that loves you will touch you and show you affection without ever bringing pain to you.

If you still live with your sperm donor, he will find a way to get you out of that situation. It pisses him off to no end that you, who deserves so much and who he loves with his whole being, are subjected to such fear and anguish on a daily basis.

If you don’t live with the sperm donor anymore, he understands that you’re grieving (plus he still hates your dad and knows how validating that can be to hear so he’s got no qualms about letting you know that). He will be there every step of the way to help you heal, even if he doesn’t understand certain things about being human like how you can spend years grieving and crying your heart out over someone that hurt you so severely and still miss them and even cherish what good memories you do have with them.

Toji

This man loves you so much, no matter how much I try to really capture it and put it into words, it would never be enough to encompass the true extent of his love for you. He sees you breaking down and crying over and over because of that piece of shit and there’s just so much he wishes he could do in that instant. He wishes he could somehow go back in time and protect you from all that emotional and/or physical violence, all that grief. He wishes you weren’t left to bear all of this hurting on your own, especially when you were the most vulnerable - as a child. He’ll hold you and kiss you and reassure you that you aren't alone anymore, that you’re so warm and deserving of love, that you deserved protection as a child.

And if you say sorry for not being able to be happy? For not being able to stay so positive or “strong” all the time? Somewhere in his chest he can feel his heart break at the thought of just how long you've been running on survival mode, that even now you're thinking about looking after his emotional needs even though you're the one that’s hurting because the support and adults in your life were just that shitty. You’re the strongest, most wonderful person he knows and to even think that someone put you through so much/is putting you through so much is devastating to him. He knows you get angry and hurt, that there’s so much resentment piling up as you realize more and more things that were done to you out of abuse. He knows that you’ve had to learn to cry silently, like an animal left to bleed and die on the forest floor, just so the abuse wouldn’t escalate. Toji knows there’s so much you blame yourself for even though you're not the problem. He knows and he loves you for all that you are, not despite it.

Comforts you like a king, if he hears even a peep of you blaming yourself or doubting yourself, he’s there to remind you again and again that you never deserved to be treated that way, that you wouldn’t be hurting this way if it was all nothing. He does a fantastic job validating you and part of it is because he can see you hurting over this, he sees how it affects you and at no point does it overshadow your warmth and kindness, all the good that you are. He sees you in all of your glory and he falls even more in love with you everyday for exactly who you are.

a/n: writing this gave me incredible comfort and i hope to look back at this when i am going through this again. I know it’s a tough topic, but im wishing you all the best and i hope we can all heal from these kinds of things. I’m thinking of creating more posts like this, ones that are strangely so specific. I haven’t been able to write for a while, and part of it was because this has been such a big part of my life right now and it’s made me feel conflicted about a lot of things. But this, finally accepting that this is where my mind is at the moment, has really let me write again and it feels good to be true to myself.

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george-fabian-weasley · 3 years

Text

if we had 5 more minutes — f. w.

Summary: You thought you could save Fred from the rumbles of falling stones; you did your best, only to be in the rumbles with him instead.

Words: 2,160 words

Warnings ⚠ : ANGST, TW: Death, TW: Battle of Hogwarts, TW: war, TW: injuries, Fred died, you died, big Pain™, I strongly suggest tissues and a dozen of comfort chocolates, I cried so you will too, Basically An Emotional Rollercoaster, Read At Your Own Risk

Disclaimer: inspired by Billie Eilish's cover of The End of The World, so... ya'll know this is going to be a painful ride. Buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy. Reblogs and Comments are Highly Appreciated! <3 p/s: reading this with the song at the background really helps with the tear pouring effect ;)

Disclaimer 2.0: i know what yall are thinking... what tf is syaf doing, posting a fic when she’s in a hiatus she just posted yesterday? Also where is mad hatter chap 5 and epilogue? well, my brain likes to conjure up ideas at very inappropriate times (like rn) so bare with me and uh i’ve been really physically and mentally exhausted from work (retail is bathshit crazy) to write the mad hatter series so idk when will i update the two chapters but i’m working on it! thank you for being patient, and im sorry for causing you guys to wait for so long, ilysm don’t kill me <3

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The end of the world.

The Battle of Hogwarts looked like the end of the world. Curses and spells thrown left to right, different kinds of bodies found at each corner and crook, walls here and there crumbling as down as hope for freedom. And blood.

At that point of time, the pools of blood on the floor look the same; pureblood or not. Because they bleed the same anguish red.

You didn't need to see the apocalypse of the world anymore. Screw the end of Mother Earth; this battle in front of your eyes was more than enough — sadly — to be your end of the world.

“Hey,” You called, causing Fred to turn his head around to your direction, his lips etched up a smile before replying with another hey. You sat next to him, the place where George had sat before he got up and left to speak with Professor Lupin.

Evil is winning, and good is losing. But then again, what difference would it make; if good kills as many as evil? At the end of the world, there is no good and evil alone. There are desperation, madness, and hunger for power, lust for victory brought along with them.

So, at the end of the world, you chose to be side by side with your lover, Fred Weasley. The red-headed dork you’ve taught yourself to pour your love into had become the very source of your life. He is your elixir, he is your soul, heart, and happiness.

It was silent for a while, none of you had anything to say. Yet the silence was comforting, with only the presence of each other as calming as it is. “Y/N,” Fred suddenly turned his head to you, biting his lower lip in contemplation. “Hm?” “Can you just stay at the Burrow?”

You blinked, “What?” Fred sighed, “Can you just stay at the Burrow right now and not join the war? I- I don’t want you to join in-” “Fred-” “I-It’s dangerous and it’s literally a war a-and I don’t want you to get hurt I would- I would rather die than have you hurt-”

“Fred!” You raised your voice, your hand clasping onto his securely, an effort to calm his frenzied thoughts. He stopped rambling and stared at you with those doe eyes you adored so much, “You know I can’t do that.”

“We need everyone on board for this war. I am no exception- bloody hell, even your parents are joining in, Freddie!” You tried to explain slowly, and Fred closed his eyes in denial of defeat.

“I love you,” he suddenly blurted out. He noticed the slight fluster you had, your eyebrows were raised for a millisecond before they furrowed upon a realization, “Wait, why are you saying this now? I-“ “I love you, Y/N,” he repeated himself and you shook your head, realizing what he was doing, “Wait, hold on a minute, no-“

He was saying it in case anything happens.

“Y/N, I love you-” “Don’t you dare say it one more time like you’re not gonna make it, Fred Weasley, I swear to Merlin,” You cut him off, your jaw clenching at his absurdness. “… Aren’t you gonna say it back?” Fred asked, his voice was small.

“I-” You sighed, “No, I won’t because I don’t want to say it right now, given the circumstances,” You paused, your voice quieting down, “It felt like a goodbye when you say it like that.” “Then when will you say it? We’ve been dating for almost a year and you'd never say it before,” He said.

“Really? This is the time to argue about this?” You gave him a pointed look, but your expression softened as you understood the meaning behind his actions. “Look, Freddie, I- You know how I feel about us,” You sighed, looking down at your hands on your lap, “You know I’m not that expressive with my words but- but I’m trying and- okay, let’s make a deal,” Fred’s ears perked up the mention of a deal. "I'm listening," he drawled.

“I’ll say the words when the war is over,” Fred gave you a sour look that clearly said ‘really?’ and it caused you to huff a smile, “Once everything is over, and everything is okay again, I’ll say them as many times as you want me to, okay?” Fred leaned into your touch as you cupped his cheek with your hand, kissing his forehead.

“Even if I made you say it a thousand times?” He asked and you chuckled, your heart warming at his childlike question, “I’ll say it for an hour if you asked me to.”

It happened so fast.

One second you were fighting off the Death Eaters with Percy and Fred, and then the other, you find your body aching at the major pressure from the rocks and debris that used to be Hogwarts’ protective wall from the outside world.

It was dark, and it was dusty, but you were too unconscious to notice. That was until you felt your cheek being patted a few times. As you gained consciousness with a cough or two, you also gained the pending pain spreading all across your whole body. You couldn’t feel your legs, or safe to say your whole lower body part.

Memories of you a few moments ago trying to push Fred away from the rumbles but ended up facing the falling stones head-on with him instead began to flow back into your mind. How foolish could you be to act like a hero, as if you could sacrifice yourself for him to live.

“… Y-Y/N…”

You turned your head with a silent grunt, and your eyes fixate at the body beside you, a few feet away, Fred.

He had blood leaking from his nose and ears, probably from the impact, and his face was dusty with debris from the stones. As he looked at you, he threw you a smile; a weak, hiding the fact that he’s in immense pain kind of smile.

“F-fancy seeing you here,” he grunted with a wince, a smile nevertheless rested on his lips. “Fred…” you could only mutter his name, closing your eyes for a brief second at the growing pain on your thighs. The pressure from the rumbles had slowly increased, and you felt yourself losing consciousness again. Only to be brought back to open your eyes as Fred poked your cheeks a few more times, “Hey, hey, s-stay with me, love.”

“We’ll… We’ll be okay.”

You winced at the trickling sensation on your skin as you tried to move your fingers towards him, “It’s… It’s impossible, Fred…” You voiced out, your voice cracking up. You saw Fred’s lips quivered before he threw you another comforting smile, “Don’t… Don’t say that. We’ll make it… I-I know we will.”

“We… We will?”

Groaning from the injuries on his body as he tried to move closer to you, he nodded, “We will.”

You felt his fingers trying to reach for yours, and you handed him assistance as you hooked your fingers with his. His hand was cold, trembling. But it was Fred’s. And Fred’s hand is always warm.

“It’s… It’s so heavy,” You whimpered in pain, looking at Fred for comfort. All Fred wished to do at the moment was to be strong enough. Strong enough to push off these rumbles pressing onto his body. Strong enough to pull you out from the pain. All he wished for was for you to not be in pain anymore. But he knew he couldn’t do anything. The rumbles were too big, too heavy, and it would take a while for anyone to find them at the bottom of everything.

Fred breathed out heavily through his mouth, slowly finding it difficult to breathe through his nose anymore, trying his best to look strong for you, “Stay with me, love. S-stay with me. Five more minutes. F-five more minutes and they’ll- they’ll save us…”

“Fred…”

“Five more minutes, I promise…”

You saw the desperation in his eyes, trying his best to somehow keep you afloat until you two are saved. You heard muffles from the other side, Percy screaming for Fred and you. His screams were sad and painful to hear; you would’ve cried for him if it wasn’t for the constant high-pitched ringing in your ears.

“Fred, h-hold my hand. P-please,” You whispered, finding no more strength to say anything louder than a whisper. He instantly intertwined your fingers with his, stretching as far as he could to reach you; no matter how screeching the pain in his lower body was.

“Fred,” You called him again. He chuckled a bit, “You’re… you’re saying my name a lot of times right now, darling.” You huffed a smile, the corner of your lips twitched, “… I want to ask you something.”

“… Anything.”

Your eyes met his, even in the darkness, his eyes still managed to look so beautiful. So earthly beautiful. “… Are you happy, Freddie?”

There was something about the way you say it, Fred couldn’t get a touch of what it was but… it felt like a goodbye. As much as Fred hated to admit, he wasn’t holding on much longer either. He was bleeding heavily from everywhere, his wand was out of his reach, and his body was starting to numb. His vision began to blur by itself, hence he blinked his eyes repeatedly. Trying his best to see your features clearly, one last time, if the worst happens.

This is it, he thought. This is the end of my line.

Finding an urge to cry, but didn’t have enough strength to sob, Fred let out a tear or two onto the dusty surface he laid his head on, his eyes closing after the content stare of your beautiful— though bloody and dusty— face. How ironic, he’s slipping away first even though he was the one who said five more minutes.

If only you had five more minutes.

“W-with… With you? Heh, always… “ The whisper coming out from his mouth caused you to narrow your eyes at him. It felt strange, it felt wrong. Was he saying goodbye? Watching Fred close his eyes was alarming, so you gained all your strength to pat his hand a few times, “H-hey, Freddie… Five more minutes. Hang… Hang on for five more minutes, please.”

You squeezed his hand, and he naturally squeezed back, only this time it was weaker than usual. His grip on your hand started to soften, but you tightened yours desperately. The pain all over your body was partially forgotten, your only focus was on keeping Fred breathing and alive, as well as yourself.

“I’m… I’m trying, my love… but I’m sleepy… and tired…” he mumbled, his words became slurred by time. He was on the edge, you realized that. Upon the sad realization, you bit your tongue, trying your best to prepare for the worst. “L-look at me, darling,” Your voice quivered, feeling the sandy surface on your temple as you tried to force your eyes open, to properly look at him, “Look at me.”

You knew it. He was slipping away from your fingers, and you were slipping too. It didn’t matter anymore even if Percy bulldozed his way to you now, it was too late. Simply too late. And that’s none of his faults. It’s none of his and none of yours.

Some things are just meant to be.

You took your other hand and placed it onto his cold, dirty cheek. Caressing his cheekbone gently, you gave him a comforting smile, “Fred.”

He looked at you, a faint smile on his lips. He’s at the end, you acknowledged. You widen your smile to assure him, although the tears escaping your eyes say otherwise, “… You make me happy. You make me so so happy. And I… I love you.”

“I love you, Freddie.”

With a big smile, Fred widened his eyes weakly, letting out a sigh of content as he looked at you with gentle eyes,“… Now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?“

Gentle eyes that soon hollowed empty.

“Yeah,” the dam of your tears broke down, “Took me a long time...” You squeezed his now lifeless hand, trying to find comfort and warmth from him for the last time. You smiled at Fred, whilst tears rolling down your temple slowly as if mourning the passing of your lover for you. You inched closer to him, careful not to graze your injuries, and met your nose with his.

You caressed his cheek, finally feeling yourself lose consciousness. This is it, you thought, I won’t wake up ever again. “You said we’ll be okay,” You whispered weakly, huffing a content smile on your lips. Staring into his eyes that had held so much love and pure unadulterated affection for you all these years, now empty with no trace of life, had sent you into pain more powerful than the injuries present on and in your body.

“I guess we will be, after this.”

“… You spent your last five minutes with me, huh?” You felt yourself going in and out of consciousness, and your vision blurring continuously, “Aren’t you a sappy git,” the mere whisper escaped your mouth with a sigh. The warm smile never left your lips, and the only thing in your mind was how peaceful he looked as of that moment, and you wondered if you’ll ever be in that state of peace, with him.

“No- no- no!” someone was shouting. “No! Fred! no!” And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them with his hand on Y/N’s head, and the pair of lovers stared at each other without seeing, the ghost of their last smile still etched upon their faces.

On our last few drags of air, we agree

I was, and you were

Happy

TAGLIST:

@multifandom-but @sirenswhispers @lilac-skies-xd @obsessedunicorn24 @foggyturtleknightangel @evewithluv @softlyqoos @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lilypad-55449 @fiantomartell @hopemalfoyweasley @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @bucketandpotato @klausdatprettyboi @adoregin @littlechillies @phuvioqhile @sweetnspicysimp @wand3ringr0s3 @harrypotter289 @emptyporsche @tallyovie @potters-heart @amourtentiaa @lunalovecroft @loveboyhalo @lupinsclassroom @breadqueen95 @iwritesiriusly @rcwenaclaw @sevsbitxh @freds-slut @acosmis-t @colorfulprofessornickelangel @vote4weasleys @anchoeritic @alluringshawn @cute-sidney @anna-banana-13 @lostaurorax @emrysts @rosietoesy @lilgeorgie78 @prismarts @an2402lths

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #fredweasley #frederick gideon weasley

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tezzbot · 3 years

Text

applejack headcanons in a sort of timeline i have in my head based on the flashbacks/statements in the show lol this is gonna get long i apologise

aj is born in the sweet apple acres barn to bright mac and pear butter :D

we get the apple family reunion episode flashback where she is lichrally baby asking for apple fritters 🥺

she grows up a bit, just by family gene pool luck shes a strong little fucker and as she grows her family realises she's not just physically strong but strong willed too, it becomes a running joke that shes secretly part mule with how stubborn she can be :P

bright mac had a dog from when he was younger that he loved with all his heart, big mac loved him too but applejack thought was a grumpy old lump of a beast she just Did Not Like This Animal you know how kids can be lmaooo

applejack and big mac dont really leave the farm all that much, theyre homeschooled by their parents and granny smith so, generally they dont have that many friends their age in their childhood, they say hi and play a bit with fillies and colts they pass while helping out with deliveries, aj and rarity possibly have a few interactions through this but nothing really sticks at this point, they know each others names and thats probably it, the apple siblings are a big hit with usual customer and ponies who sell them things in the market

pear butter teaches aj how to play the guitar and she practices until her hooves hurt, her ma is very proud of her, they like to play duets when they have some alone time :] then, deciding to branch out from that applejack also picks up other instruments like the banjo and the fiddle, they find out she has quite a knack for music! (applejack is only slightly disappointed she doesnt get her cutie mark from it, but unlike applebloom would be in the future, she doesnt mind all that much, after all granny smith always said it'd come with time 😌)

not long after little applebloom is born we get the great seedling episode flashback which is a turning point in applejack, a moment like finding out santa or the tooth fairy isnt real, she matures a little bit that day, gains more of the work ethic we see in her as an adult

around this time is when bright mac and pear butter die :( i dont have a concrete headcanon on How they die but the dangerous trade routes the apples have to take to make deliveries may have had something to do with it, or maybe they were trying to protect the farm from something coming from the everfree forest, im not sure

the rest of the apple family make their way to sweet apple acres to give their condolences and help out in any way they can around the farm while our apples grieve :( its sad but it brings aj and big mac closer than they'd ever been

after shes recovered a little from that, i think aj kind of loses herself, i mean how can you not after losing both parents :(( so she decides to leave the farm in the hopes she'll be able to find herself again in manehattan, this is the cutie mark chronicles flashback and where she realises she belongs in ponyville, Runs home and gets her cutiemark

after a little bit, to help her become a little bit more social with foals her age, applejack goes to camp friendship where she meets little coloratura and the two Immediately click, aj gives her new best friend the nickname rara and they're practically inseparable the whole summer, their friendship starts to grow into something more but rara is heading back to manehatten after camp and applejack belongs back in ponyville, so they decide to give a lonb distance relationship a try, they manage to exchange letters back and forth for a long time, ultimately deciding a long distance relationship wasnt gonna work so they mutually decide to break up but still stay pen pals! after a while, the letters stop and they become just a memory in one anothers minds

sweet apple acres eventually returns to a business as usual state, with groups of relatives stopping by the farm now and again to give a helping hoof considering its now run by a late-middle aged lady, two children and a baby lol, applejack, while still doing a lot of tree bucking, is starting to take on a more maternal figure role in applebloom's life as well as being her sister, her and big mac feels more responsible and protective of the foal since she would be growing up with no ma and pa, they sort of took on those roles, applejack more intensely i guess i just see her as having strong maternal instincts embedded in her or something lol, but she for sure isnt "single mom"ing it, with granny smith and other relatives ready to take the little bugger when aj needs to get stuff done :P it takes a village and all that lmao

since at this time aj and big mac are starting to go into town more often and are free to do as they please as long as their chores get done, they start actually interacting more with teens their age in ponyville! applejack starts hanging out with fillies like rarity who she had known in passing but now could finally get to know and the cake's new apprentice and ponyvilles youngest party planner, pinkie pie

after starting to hit some awkward growth spurts as she reaches her teens lol, she starts taking an interest in the business side of the farmwork too, dealings with customers, looking into trade routes stuff like that, this is when the where the apple lies flashback takes place i fuckin love that episode please watch it, and this starts applejack's lifelong promise to never lie ever again which she keeps bc shes a legend as fuck <3

one day aj notices cloudsdale passing through probably to start preparing ponyville for the next season, and she hears a Thud coming from a row or two over from where she's working, she goes over to investigate to find a pegasus filly shaking off what aj can only assume was a crash, she asks if shes alright, n the filly is like of course i am im so tough toughest around actually thanks<3 and aj is internally like hm. this kids kinda annoying. they introduce themselves and applejack finds out rainbow dash is looking for her friend fluttershy, she likes to come down from cloudsdale to play with animals or something, but applejack hasnt seen any yellow pegasi fillies around so the little blue filly says thanks anyway and zips off at what aj can only describe as probably the speed of light, she somehow has a strange feeling this isnt gonna be the last she sees of this kid

she turns out to be right when shes invited to a happy visit to ponyville from cloudsdale party thrown for rainbow and fluttershy, apparently rainbow had bumped into pinkie while asking around ponyville for any idea where fluttershy and of course pinkie Had to make an event out of it once she had helped rainbow find her friend, the party was of course a lot of fun rainbow and aj somehow managed to turn every party game into a competition and despite their first impressions of one another they actually got along really well and gained a good amount of respect for each other, aj eventually found fluttershy sort of hiding away from most of the party and fluttershy actually opened up a little after talking with aj bc of how calming her presence was for her

over the next few years the five got to know each other quite well, anytime cloudsdale passed by rainbow and fluttershy would drop into ponyville to hang out or just say hi, and once they were old enough they moved into their ponyville houses and the five of them became just a regular friend group youd see hanging out on the streets of ponyville, fluttershy helps aj pick out a border collie puppy for help with wrangling critters on the farm (applebloom was getting too old to be sent off to mindlessly run after little animals all the time and she had started going to school so she wasnt around as much lmaoo) and just as a companion for applejack, she names her Winona :]

and then after those few years Twilight shows up! you know the rest from there :P

if i missed anything uhhh whoops<3 lol

#mlp #mlp applejack #tezztalks #mlp headcanons #might make more of these idk tho #block that tag if u dont wanna see em BDNVD #the hc tag i mean

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jikooksgirl19 · 3 years

Text

My Soulmates I 2

Genre: Soulmate AU, fluff,angst,eventual smut

Pairing: Idol Jimin x Lawyer Reader x Idol Jungkook

Warnings: mentions of death and abortion

AN: Thank you for your patience with this chapter. Not only did I delete it prior not once but twice, I had a personal loss happen that caused me to take some time away from writing. But I’m back on track and writing this story again. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It’s short but I have some big stuff coming in chapter 3. Please let me know your thoughts and give feedback. I love talking to y’all.

*****************************************************

The three of you found yourself on the Top floor in Bang SiHyuks office. He sat across from you, hands clasped tightly just staring at you all. He hadn’t said anything in the last 15 minutes after you and the boys explained what happened, except to call on his personal secretary. The silence was deafening and you were so so tempted to tell a joke just to break the silence. Just as you were about to open your mouth his secretary Kim Hyunjae came into to office with a stack of papers with all the information about poly soulmates. He began to explain in detail about how the bond between you three is deeper than a normal soulmates, and it plays a huge part in the emotional side of things. Not only do multiple partners have a stronger connection to each other but their emotions, feelings, even moods can be affected by the other people in the relationship. It had been documented that on some occasions each party could physically feel what his or her mates were going through during moments of heightened situations. For example if one party had a headache or got hurt or even was sexually active the others could feel this both physically and emotionally. They also could not be parted from each other for long periods of time without it causing harm to themselves. Though extremely rare the pull of the bond would act as a tether and bring all participants back to each other, or risk crippling illness and the eventual death from the one that left or was left in the relationship. Unlike a normal Soulmate bond it could not be broken except through death as the universe had decided that these were the most sacred of bonded mates hence why they were so rare.

Only one case with no death of the separated mate has ever been documented, and that is in the case of Korean Soulmates Song Jungman, Jong Ara, and Im Jinna . The group had decided they wanted children so both Jong Ara and Im Jinna had tried to conceive but only Ara was able to do so. In a jealous fit Jinna claimed that Ara somehow caused her infertility and wanted to break the three apart. She played the victim so well and convinced Song Jungmin to leave Ara. Together they would start a new life with just the two of them leaving Ara behind. Ara was devistated as she was expecting their child and knew if they left her with the intention to not come back she could get sick, lose their child or even die. She pleaded with them both claiming her innocence but unfortunately Jungmin did not believe her and they left her to move to Japan. Ara waited to fall ill knowing that the separation would be too much but her overwhelming love for her child triggered a new bond that allowed her to survive the loss of both soulmates. After several years it was discovered by Jungmin that Jinna had once had an abortion before meeting her soulmates and as a result she became infertile. He was destroyed by this information because he didn’t try to listen to Ara and wholeheartedly believed only Jinna. He threw away part of his heart because he believed the other so willingly knowing that it would lead to the death of Ara. He believed Ara to have passed away after they abandoned her all those years ago. He left Jinna to go home to Korea and accept his fate wishing to be buried next to Ara and their unborn child only to discover that Ara not only survived but had twins, a son and daughter and was married to a man that had lost his soulmate years earlier. Though he tried to make amends with Ara it was difficult for her to forgive him as their bond had been broken beyond repair. They were both still connected but since they had been separated for over fifteen years it wasn’t as strong, in fact it was like meeting an old acquaintance instead of a lover. Unfortunately his separation from Jinna became too much and he succumbed to debilitating illness and died only three months after reconnecting with Ara and his children. It was later found out that Jinna died the same day in a hospital in Japan. Ara was of course sad at this news, but the love of her children allowed her to continue living and she was able to find peace.

You had tears in your eyes and noticed that you were holding on to both Jimin and Jungkooks hands during the story. You were so wrapped up in this that you didn’t even realize you three had unknowingly gravitated towards each other for comfort. They were both choked up as well. Someone cleared their throat causing you to refocus on the gentlemen in front of you. You sat up straight and decided to get straight to the point.

“So where do we go from here? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be feeling at the moment, and now you’re telling me I have this life altering, can’t change a thing, you now have not one but TWO soulmates, and oh yeah, you will feel all their emotions and feelings and you can’t even be away from them for too long or you might just up and kick the freaking bucket situation going on...this is what you are saying to us right now?” You couldn’t help the panic rising in your voice. Your professionalism was flying right out of the proverbial window. Jungkook just looked at you, and then Bang PD and said “What she said.” You couldn’t help it you started to giggle at his brief statement then the boys started giggling with you.

Bang SiHyuk cleared his throat and got right to the point. “First we get you moved into the boys complex. You will have an apartment on the floor below the dorm along next to Jins soulmate Yuna. This will allow visits between you three without risk for now. Only essential staff will be told about this arrangement. Y/N you will be hired on as a permanent staff member within our own legal team. Also because you are also multilingual you will assist with our translation team while the boys are traveling, as well as help teach English to to boys. This will help with the questions the public might have about you being around the boys all the time. This is going to take some preparation before we can put this information out to the public. We are also going to have to get you started on the path to Citizenship here in Korea.” Said Bang SiHyuk loudly while clapping his hands together as though he just solved all the problems in front of him. “Now I suggest that you three get to know each other and settle anything else you might need to attend to quickly. Y/N I will have your apartment ready in two days. Is that enough time to get you packed up and ready to move?”

You sat there with your mouth open like a fish trying to digest everything that was being said. This was going too fast and you needed to pump the brakes on whatever this was that was happening. Realizing you needed to answer you opened your mouth to vehemently deny any of his requests and spoke up with a resounding. “Yes Sir.” It came out of your mouth like it was nothing. You immediately slapped your hand over your mouth and thought what on Gods green earth is wrong with me? I have lost my ever loving mind. While you and your inner bitch-demon continued to argue in your mind, the others started making arrangements for you.

You noticed that Kim Hyunjae didn’t seem as though he was fond of you or this situation you had found yourself in. He didn’t out and out say anything rude or with tone but your gut told you he was not happy with this relationship between you, Jimin and Jungkook. You chalked it up to the amount of paperwork this was going to cause him so you tried your best to let him know you would be as much help as you could and you would do your best for the boys and the company. At this point you were giving Jimin and Jungkook your current address and contact information so you could meet tomorrow morning for a “ Get to know you meal”. You excused yourself and prepared to go home when Jungkook caught up to you. “ I know this is a lot Noona and we are all a bit overwhelmed and know absolutely nothing about each other, but please know that I am so blessed to call you my soulmate. You seem very kind and you are beautiful and smart and amazingly funny even when you don’t mean to be.” He smiled at you and your heartstrings tugged in the most peculiar way. You were already becoming attached as you could feel a pull towards the younger man. He took your hand and shook it in a very businesslike manner and said “Till tomorrow malady” and bowed in a funny way causing you to laugh again. Jimin came out and grabbed your other hand and said he was looking forward to breakfast and getting to know more about you as well. You said your goodbyes and turned and left the building hailing a cab to take you home so you could process the events of today. You had not been prepared for the absolute crazy that happened today but deep down you were getting excited at the prospect of having and loving two adorable soulmates.

As Jungkook and Jimin were getting ready to leave Jungkook looked at Jimin and asked “What are you going to tell Somi?” Jimin just looked back at Jungkook with sadness in his eyes and shrugged his shoulders and replied “I have no idea.”

To Be Continued...

Taglist: @mrcleanheichou @itsminniekat @dreamescapeswriting @seaoffangirling @4evahevah @sonderkook @bisexualmess007 @chxustuff @aviwasabi21 @skyys-universe @ally22042000 @ramblingsofawolfgirl @eunoiavante @angelic-lawyer @purpleheartsfortae @the-obsessive-fangirl

#jimin #jungkook #bts jimin #bts jungguk #bts #jikook #jeon jungkook #park jimin #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #bts x reader #jikook soulmates #bts soulmates #bts poly #bts poly soulmates #bts soulmate au #poly bts x reader

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barnesandrogersfanfics · 4 years

Text

Ocean Eyes - Part 10

A/N- Another update??? What is going on??! hope you all enjoy this part 💕 Please like/share/reblog.

Within days of being back home from our weekend at Chris's the lockdown was announced and I spent a day packing up some of mine and Masons belongings that we might need while staying with Chris. While i was feeling very nervous about having to spend this time with Chris, Mason was over the moon! He was so excited that we had to go stay with Chris and Dodger.

Chris arrived early with Scott and they loaded our things into Chris's car.

"This is gonna be so much fun!" Scott said happily.

"Are you staying at Chris's too?"

"I am!"

"Oh god that means you're gonna be trying to get me drunk!"

"Well duh!" He laughed shrugging like it should have been a given.

"God help me you two are gonna be trouble" Chris said shaking his head as he helped Mason into his carseat.

"You knew what you were getting yourself into".

While Chris and Scott started bickering i turned and saw Brian coming out of his house, he stood and watched us and then started to walk towards us.

"Oh shit.... quick lets go, Brians coming over!"

"This guy!" Chris said through gritted teeth shaking his head and looking a little pissed off.

"Morning neighbour!" Brian called out, i turned and gave a quick wave.

"You and Mason leaving?"

"Yep, we're gonna ride this out with family" i nodded and felt Chris wrap his arm around my waist and pull me closer to him.

"Come on sweetheart we should go"

"Yeah sure, take care Brian"

"Wait, you look so familiar...." Brian suddenly said looking more closely at Chris "where have i seen you before?"

"I just have one of those faces, i get that a lot" Chris shrugged casually opening my door for me.

"Yeah maybe..... hey Y/N, i was thinking after this lockdown is over maybe you and i can get dinner...."

Was he serious right now??

"Dude really??!....." Chris snapped looking at Brian shaking his head.

"What?"

Chris closed my door and stood towering over Brian as they exchanged words i could no longer hear. Chris was soon strutting round to the driver side of the car while Brian stood there looking pissed. I turned to look at Chris as he got into the car, he was fuming. He started the car and pulled away onto the road, his grip on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles went white.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked him quietly.

"I will be knowing you and Mason are away from that creep"

"What did you say to him?"

"We'll talk about it later, i don't want Mace to hear"

"Okay, but can you please try and calm down....."

"Im Fine"

"Tell your face that, plus you're kinda white knuckling the steering wheel there....."

"Sorry.... sorry. Im fine really...." he loosened his grip and gave me a tight lipped smile.

"Always so protective" Scott chuckled from the back seat earning him a glare in the rear view mirror.

"Scott i swear to god...."

"Come on boys behave, this lockdown hasn't even started yet and you're bickering"

"You sure you don't wanna go stay with Ma....." Chris muttered at Scott making us all laugh.

The first week of lockdown quickly passed, there was no news on when the lockdown would let up so we were all just enjoying our time together.....It was just like old times. I called my mom and Hannah everyday just to check in and have some female conversation but other than that it was just me and the Evan's boys in our little quarantine bubble.

I was in the kitchen making breakfast when Chris walked in sporting a new haircut..... the buzzcut was back!

"Wow...... you've shaved your hair...."

"Yeah" he run his hand over his head blushing a little "fancied a change, its been a long time since i can just cut my hair when i want"

"Right, Marvel owned it before"

"No...."

"You know i'm right" i shrugged "i always did like the buzzcut look though"

"Yeah i remember....." he smirked.

"Morning family!" Scott said loudly walking into the kitchen "What happened to your hair??"

"Fancied a change, plus now i haven't gotta worry about my hair everyday"

"You know that actually sounds kinda smart..... have you seen my bed head??"

"Kinda hard to miss Scotty" i snickered behind my hand looking at his hair that was sticking up left, right and centre.

"Maybe i should do it too"

"And me!" Mason said smiling big at us "i want hair like dads too!"

"Oh my god Chris what have you started..."

"Sorry...."

"No its fine, its only hair. It'll grow back right.... i guess now is as good a time as any for a haircut".

After breakfast Chris took Mason for his hair cut while i showered and dressed for the day. The next time i saw them all three were sporting buzzcuts and i had to admit it was very cute!

"Let me get a photo of you three, this is just too cute to pass up" i smiled grabbing my phone. I snapped a few photo's and forwarded them to Chris and Scott before setting one as my lock screen and slipping my phone back into my pocket.

"Oh my god i love this.... i'm gonna get this blown up and framed on my wall" Chris smiled looking at the photo.

"Let me get one of you three" Scott jumped up and pulled me towards the sofa where Chris and Mason still sat.

"Oh.... we dont have to do that....."

"Come on, it'll be nice to have at least one photo of the three of us" Chris said looking up at me with those damn ocean eyes of his that always made me week.

"Okay, sure" i nodded taking the seat next to Mason.

"Move in a bit closer....." Scott said trying to get us all in frame, we both leaned in closer to Mason and smiled while Scott took the photo.

"Oh i'm good..... this is great you guys" Scott said before both our phones were receiving photo's from Scott. I couldn't help the smile on my face when i saw how lovely the photo had come out.

"Okay you did good, i love this"

"This ones going up too by the way" Chris looked at me with a huge smile.

"You don't have to do that...."

"You kidding me? I want to"

"Fair enough, its your house. I just don't think your girlfriend will appreciate it much".

"Okay..... who wants lunch??" Scott asked loudly interrupting, it had suddenly got a bit awkward at the mention of Lindsey so i just got up quickly and followed Scott into the kitchen.

Once Mason was in bed for the night the alcohol came out. We watched some old movie (that Chris found hilarious) played some card games which somehow led to childish drinking games and before we knew it we were all pretty wasted!

"Right you guys i'm going to bed, i physically can not drink anymore" Scott said getting to his feet and stumbling making Chris and I laugh.

"Dude you're such a lightweight" Chris rolled his eyes at his brother.

"Shut up. Goodnight.... love you both"

"Night Scotty, love you" i smiled up at him from where i was laying on sofa.

"Night bro, love ya".

Chris and I sat in silence for a few minutes, just the sounds on the TV playing in the background.

"You want another beer?" He asked getting up from the armchair he had been occupying all night.

"Sure, i'll have one more before bed".

While Chris went to grab the beers i sat and reached for my phone to make sure i hadn't missed any messages from my mom or Hannah. There was a photo from Hannah that made me laugh just as Chris walked back in with the beers.

"Hannah just sent me this photo..." i said to him turning my phone to show him a photo of Lucas who now had a buzzcut.

"Haha! Oh god i really started something didn't i?" He laughed looking a bit guilty.

"I sent her a photo of Mason's new haircut earlier, she said Lucas wouldn't shut up about wanting the same.... looks like he got his way"

"You gotta admit it looks cute though?"

"Yeah okay i'll give you that. Mason is like your little mini me, even more so than usual"

"He’s just missing the beard"

"I think we've still got some time until that happens" i laughed "you definitely have strong genes Evans.....that boy literally inherited none of my looks"

"No but he's got your attitude and sass"

"Hey!"

"Im kidding.... mostly"

"Ass" i muttered shaking my head at him before taking a mouthful of my beer.

"He might look like me but his personality is all you sweetheart... he's an amazing kid"

"Yeah he is, id be lost without him"

"I kinda love having you both here" Chris added avoiding eye contact with me.

"Its been nice, just remember its not permanent...."

"I know, i know" he nodded quickly "you know when i came in and saw you laughing at your phone, my first thought was that it might've been Derek.... i hate that guy and i don't even know him" he scoffed "how sad is that?"

"Chris....."

"I know, its none of my business who you date or whatever"

"You're right it is none of your business. But just for the record, there's nothing going on with Derek, we were gonna go for dinner before this lockdown stuff but i haven't spoken to him since"

"Oh...."

"Can i ask you something?" I turned to face him, he looked up and nodded finally looking at me.

"Why isn't Lindsey here?"

"What?...."

"Why isn't Lindsey staying with you? I mean you guys are obviously serious if you came looking for that divorce but she isn't here....."

Chris looked away again coughing to clear his throat.... was he nervous??

"Lindsey isn't here because i ended it"

"What?... when?"

"When i found out i had a son. When i saw you again and realised anything i thought i felt for her was a lie"

"Are you fucking with me right now?"

"No. Im just being honest. Y/N, i know i fucked up when i ended things with us.... it was the biggest mistake of my life and i regret it everyday.... but i never stopped loving you. Not for one god damn second...."

I suddenly felt very sober, my heart pounding in my chest.

“You’re just saying this because you’ve had too much to drink...” i muttered shaking my head.

“You’re probably right, doesn’t mean its not true. Ive just been keeping it to myself” Chris suddenly got up and came to sit next me taking hold of my hand “i know my timings sucks but i just needed you to know..... and i just need to know if there is any chance at all that you’d give me another chance.....”

“Chris i really don’t think now is a good time to talk about this.... we’ve both had too much to drink..... if you’re serious about this i think we need to have this conversation sober”

“But you’re willing to have that conversation?”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow” i nodded pulling my hand free and standing up “i’m gonna go to bed.... goodnight”.

I had to put some distance between us before i did something id regret in the morning.

It was safe to say i wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight.

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @rororo06 @supernaturalwintersoldier @fairlightswiftly @hiddelstannerbarnes

Ocean eyes: @supraveng @michelehansel @melissaglenn5 @denisemarieangelina

@mrsjeffwittek @mery-be @marvelfansworld @cmalass @capstopavenger @fallenoutofrose @kelbabyblue @biebsmylife95 @loser-alert @traceyaudette @w3lissax @jennmurawski13 @ford66steal @saiyanprincessswanie @christocrave

@jakiki94 @torntaltos @buchanansebba

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #reader insert #ocean eyes #steve rogers x reader

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 13: Paper And Ink]

A/N: Can I just take a second to say how happy I am to see all of your reactions to my little fic?! I have never been a super popular writer on Tumblr but I like to think that I have some of the cleverest, kindest, most thoughtful readers around. Your support for and emotional investment in my stories makes me so, so, so happy. Please enjoy this latest chapter...it’s the longest one yet! 💜

Also, MAJOR shout out to @writerxinthedark and her constant insanely astute observations!! Girl, I’m shook. Do you have ESP or what...? 👀

Chapter summary: Roger tries to reach a compromise, John tries to offer solace, Chrissie tries out some retro science, Y/N tries to process some alarming new information.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language! Discussion of substance abuse! Babies! Drama! Angst!!!

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen @anotheronewritesthedust1 @pomjompish @writerxinthedark

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

“You can’t leave,” John pleads. One of his hands—strong, nimble, a gold band on his wedding finger—is clutching the wooden bedpost. Chrissie paces back and forth beside him, gnawing her thumbnail until it bleeds, silent tears streaking down her ruddy cheeks.

You throw your open suitcase onto the bed and start yanking things out of drawers: panties and bras—the practical ones, not the sexy ones, I won’t be needing those in the immediate future—jeans, velvet dresses, sweaters, socks, mittens, scarves. It’ll be cold in Boston. “I’m going home.”

“Love, please...” Chrissie sobs.

“I’m not staying here.” Your voice is surprisingly steady, resolved even. “I’m not going to stay in this house with him. I’m not going to follow him around the world watching him fuck other women and humiliate me in tabloids. I’m done, I’m going home.”

“You have a contract with the record company, you’re the tour nurse!” Chrissie protests. “Jesus christ, they could sue you for non-performance! When does the band leave, a week from now?!”

“Six days,” John says softly.

“Six days!” Chrissie shouts at you.

“I’m not going. They can sue me, that’s fine.” I don’t have any money anyway. None that’s actually mine.

“You can’t leave,” John says again. His greyish eyes are wide and restless, desperate; you didn’t know it was possible for him to be this agitated. He’s not Queen’s unflappable bassist today.

“Yeah? Observe.” You pick the pink conch shell up off the dresser—the one John found for you on the beach in Ostia, during a tour that feels like a lifetime ago—and tuck it gently into a corner of your suitcase where it will be cushioned by knit sweaters. “John, I have a bunch of your sketches downstairs. There’re some on the refrigerator, some framed in the living room, a couple on the dining room walls...will you go get those for me, please? I can’t leave without them.”

John just stares at you, blinking and thunderstruck.

Next to the empty space on the dresser where the conch shell once lived is the Canon F-1. You consider the camera for a moment, then snatch it up and move to hurl it out of the second-story window.

John jolts out of his paralysis. “No no no no, I think you’ll regret that.” He gently pries the Canon out of your grasp and places it back on the dresser.

“What the hell are you going to do in Boston?!” Chrissie wails. “All your friends are here now! Your life is here!”

“I’m going to get a job at the hospital and marry some boring, predictable man and get a house with a white picket fence and fill it with two exceptionally average children”—if I can have them, and that’s a big if as it turns out—“and a golden retriever and live out the rest of my days in blissful, prosaic anonymity. Thanks for asking.”

“Oh come on, you don’t want that!” Chrissie snaps. “You’ve never wanted that, that’s why you came to London with the band to begin with!”

“I don’t want to feel like this!” you scream, and all those tears you didn’t know you were biting back start spilling out in hot, torrential streams. Your breath hitches; your throat burns. Like wildfire. John pulls you to his chest, murmurs that everything will be okay, cradles the back of your head with his palm. You know he’s exchanging a glance with Chrissie over your shoulder. That’s why she brought him here, after all; to help talk you off the ledge, to help convince you to stay.

“What a fucking mess,” Chrissie says in despair.

“It’s my fault,” you choke out.

“It’s not,” John whispers.

“It is,” you insist bitterly, sobbing into him. “Everyone warned me and I ignored it because I’m a complete idiot and now I’ve gone and ruined my life.”

“You don’t have to go!” Chrissie implores. “You can stay here. With us, with me and John and Mary and Freddie and Brian. You have British citizenship, you can get a job at a hospital in London if you really want to leave the band. You can stay with me and Bri for as long as you need to until you’re back on your feet, or with Freddie...they’d give you any amount of money you needed to get started...they’d be heartbroken if you left, love, you’ve been there for them through everything, since Queen was just a bunch of nobodies, since we were all flat broke...they’re never going to forget that loyalty you showed them, that faith. They’d do anything to repay you.”

You sigh shakily as you untangle yourself from John and wipe your eyes. “If I stay here, I’ll spend the rest of my life dodging Roger at birthday parties and holidays and restaurants. And being known as the wife he fucked around on. I’ll be a pitiful mess of a person. They had a photo of me in the News Of The World, did you know that? A tiny little circular photo under a huge, glamorous one of Dominique. ‘Look everyone, check out the dashing rock star’s sad, pathetic, unremarkable, soon-to-be-ex-wife. Surely you can appreciate why he’d shop around.’”

“Yes, I saw that part,” Chrissie says softly. She understands some of what you’re feeling, surely, and yet she must also have a sensation of gratefulness; plenty of musicians wander like tornadoes, touching down and sowing chaos wherever their compulsions take them, but few wives have the misfortune of seeing their names and faces paraded through the tabloids. Suddenly, Chrissie isn’t the most-wronged wife in Queen anymore.

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh god. My parents might even hear about this. They could be buying wine and Cheetos at the grocery store and see my husband and his girlfriend on the cover of a magazine in the checkout line.”

“I’m so sorry,” Chrissie replies, her voice hoarse. John crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing; but he kicks the wooden bedframe hard enough to send a crack down the center of the footboard.

Downstairs, you hear the front door open. Chrissie and John whirl to you, panicked.

“Hey, love of my life!” Roger’s chipper voice vaults up the staircase. Someone hasn’t checked the headlines yet. “Baby? You home?”

“Do you want me to stay?” John asks you.

“No, I can handle it.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ll stay for as long as you want me to. I’ll hide in the goddamn bushes outside the window if that would be helpful.”

“No, John.” You smile and climb onto your toes to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, to hug him goodbye. He’s warm and comfortable and sheltering. He feels more like home than this house ever has, isn’t that strange? And for a second, just one, you wonder what your life would look like if there had been no Veronica, no Roger.

You’d still be in Boston, you idiot, you chastise yourself. You never would have come to London with Queen if it wasn’t for Roger. And You’re My Best Friend wasn’t about you.

“Thank you,” you tell John. “But I have to do this part myself.”

“Okay. Don’t you dare go cart yourself off to Heathrow without telling me first, alright?”

“Sure,” you say, not meaning it. I can’t let him stop me.

“Good luck,” Chrissie frets, wringing her hands, twirling her wedding ring. “Call me, okay? I’m going to be a nervous wreck until I hear from you. I’ll chew my poor fingers to the bone.”

“I’ll call. I promise.”

“Hey baby!” Roger materializes in the bedroom doorway, pushes his prescription sunglasses up into his windswept blond hair, peers around the room at you and John and Chrissie. And you’re suddenly reminded of how a room changes when Roger walks into it, how everything shifts somehow, becomes brighter, more alive, brimming with magnificent potential; how cavernously empty the world would feel without him in it. Chrissie glares at him with her arms crossed, nostrils flaring, tapping one fashionable riding boot against the hardwood floor. “Uhhhh...am I interrupting something?”

“Bye, love.” Chrissie kisses you quickly on each cheek and breezes out of the room. You hear her boots clopping as she descends down the staircase. After a moment, John follows her.

“You despicable prick,” John hisses as he passes Roger in the doorway.

Roger is mystified. “Baby, what’s going on?” His eyes flick to the hastily packed suitcase, to the cracked footboard. “What the fuck happened to the bed?”

There are so many ways to ask the same question. When did you decide that you needed to have her? Who is she to you? How could you do this to me? What did she give you that I couldn’t? Instead, what you ask him this: “Have you seen the News Of The World today?”

His brow furrows into deep grooves. “No...” But something primal flashes in his vivid blue eyes, just briefly. Something like fear. He knows he’s done things that would hurt me. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unearth them all.

You grab the magazine off the bed and hurl it at him. Roger picks it up off the floor and flips to the front page. His shoulders slump, one hand comes up to cover his mouth, he exhales in a deep sigh; his whole body shifts the same way a room does when he walks out of it: dims, deflates, goes bloodless. He calmly lays the News Of The World on the dresser, folds his sunglasses and sets them down as well, rubs his eyes with the heels of his calloused hands. Then he turns to you.

He’s going to deny it, you think, revolted. He’s going to deny it just like Brian did, try to patch things up in some weak and gutless way, placate me so he can drift off to sleep at night imagining he’s a good husband.

But Roger isn’t Brian. He never has been.

He asks you quietly, in surrender: “What do you want to know?”

Your stomach plunges into freefall, because this is real. Maybe there was some part of me that was hoping this was a mistake, some naïve and hopeful sliver of idealism left over from childhood, from a time when everything in the world was either good or evil and nothing lived in the treacherous shadows in between. “How long?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, Roger, it matters.”

“Not long.” He waves a hand glibly. “She...ah...well she thought I was pretty maddening at first. It took her a while to come around to the idea.”

You flinch like you’ve been slapped. “Jesus christ, Roger. Thank you, that’s great, thank you for that information.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he protests, exasperated. “I’m really not, I don’t...I just don’t...bloody hell, I don’t know how to do this.”

“To do what? To fuck around?! Obviously that’s inaccurate—”

“No, to confess!” he shouts. “I never confess, I never admit it, I just avoid or deflect or deny it, and when that doesn’t work anymore I just walk out because usually I don’t care enough to have the conversation. But now I do so I’m really, really trying to give you what you want. I thought you wanted answers. So ask me whatever you want to and I’ll tell you the truth.”

Everyone lies. Everyone disappoints you. I knew that, I really did...but somehow I let him convince me that I didn’t. That he was built of nothing but light. “Do you love her?”

“No,” he replies instantly. “It’s a fling, that’s all.”

“So you didn’t corner her somewhere and tell her that you’re planning on breaking up with me.”

Roger winces. I wasn’t going to end up like Josephine, that was the first promise I made to myself on British soil. And look where I am now. “No. Never.”

“Why, Roger?”

He looks away, runs his hands through his hair; he genuinely doesn’t know how to answer.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you even sorry...?”

He speaks carefully, purposefully. “I’m sorry you had to find out, that you were hurt by it. And I’m really fucking sorry about that headline. Discretion is extremely important to me. I never would have let that happen, but you know...” He shrugs, smirking guiltily in that disarmingly bewitching way that he does. Stop, you warn yourself, feeling something in you grasping for reasons to stay. “I haven’t been thinking especially clearly lately.”

“Yes, between the coke and the drinking and the pills you’re quite the disaster, aren’t you?” Scalding tears slither down your face. “So you’re not sorry you did it. You’re not sorry that you’re an addict or a cheater.”

“It’s not about that. It’s...” He searches for the words like premonitions in tea leaves. “Yes, there are drugs and parties and women. There are a lot of those things. But I’m not addicted to any of them. I’m addicted to being Roger Taylor, drummer of one of the best bands in the world. It’s everything I am, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted to be. I never want to live in a world where that’s not who I am anymore. You understand that, what it’s like to feel caged and miserable, you know what it’s like to want to experience things. And so if it takes coke and pills to get up on that stage every night and drum under those blinding lights until it feels like my arm is split open again, okay, no problem, I’ll do it. If women are a part of the lifestyle, a part of being free, then I’ll take advantage of that. And why the fuck does it matter? Why do so many people think that fidelity is the ultimate manifestation of love? Plenty of faithful people hate each other. Plenty of people who screw around are irretrievably in love with one person, are fucking owned by them. I love you. I want to come home to you. I want to raise my children with you if that’s a possibility, and if it’s not then fine, whatever, I’m gonna love you all the same. You’re still on my list, Boston babe. You’re always going to be on my list. Why isn’t that enough?”

“John doesn’t cheat,” you object helplessly. Even if he has all the reasons in the world to.

“No, he doesn’t. But he’s a very different kind of man. A better one, probably. But you’ve always known who I was. And I never promised you an ordinary life.”

You shake your head, hide your face in your hands, can’t force the words to leave your trembling lips. It’s not enough for me. Maybe I thought it could be, but it’s just not.

Roger says, gently: “I know we said the marriage didn’t mean anything”—yes, that was your condition, wasn’t it?—“but that’s not completely true. It’s not just paper and ink. It does mean something. It means that you’re the person I want to take care of, the person I can rely on to provide for my family and friends if something ever happened to me. It means that I love and trust you in a way that is unconditional. That you’re my best friend.”

“I don’t want to live like this, Roger,” you whisper.

“So what’s next?” he demands. “So you’re going to take that suitcase and run back to the States and...what, get a job at the same hospital you were so desperate to escape from? Back out of the tour? Abandon the band and the friends you have here?”

“If that’s what it takes to get away from you.”

For the first time, you hurt him; you really hurt him. You see it ripple across his face like cold, swirling ocean waves. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already decided, Roger.”

“Come on, baby, please, we can work this out—”

“I’m not interested.” You zip the suitcase closed, heave it off the bed, and drag it towards the door.

“So even if we can’t work it out,” Roger erupts, bolting to the doorway, to stand between you and whatever a life after him looks like. “Don’t leave the band. Leave me, just me, but not the band. I know you don’t want to leave them. I know they’ll be devastated if you disappear, not to mention they might legitimately murder me over it. Bri can be a twat, sure, but he’s convinced you saved his life. You and I might be the only people on the whole fucking planet who can see how brilliant John is, who understand him. Freddie’s convinced you’re some kind of good luck charm, you know how superstitious he is, he’ll start having those meltdowns again where he insists he can’t sing five minutes before a show and that the band is doomed, the tour will be a complete disaster. We need you. And I want you to keep the job you love, the travel, the mansion, the money, I want you to have all of it. You’ve earned it. You shouldn’t lose it because of me.”

And as you clutch the handle of your suitcase, your mind dashing from one logistical step to the next—grab my passport and some cash out of the safe, collect all of John’s sketches, call a cab to take me to Heathrow—you start remembering things. But you don’t see them like flashes, like misty reveries, no; you feel them like heat from a roaring fireplace, like Mediterranean pebbles digging into the wrinkled soles of your feet, like the deafening screams of crowds filling the Rainbow Theater, the Hammersmith Odeon, the Apollo, the Budokan, Madison Square Garden. Memories of excavating shards of glass from John’s hand in a New Orleans mansion crawling with fantasies and nightmares, of toasting pink champagne in the lobby of the Chelsea Register Office, of museums and parks and beaches and apartments filled with threadbare couches and extravagant dreams, of Christmases and New Year’s Eves, of Roger convincing you to come to London with Queen on a June morning in 1974, cradling your face in his rough hands, promising you everything you’ve ever wanted: ‘Love...Accept. The fucking. Offer.’ And you could run to the other side of the world, sure; but you’re never going to be able to carve those memories out of your bones.

You let go of the suitcase, and Roger’s smile lights up his face like the sun.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Careful...careful, love...” Roger contorts himself to keep the umbrella over you and the Boston cream pie you’re carrying as rain pours out of a sinister grey sky. You both hurry beneath the roof that covers the front porch and ring the doorbell. Freddie answers wearing a tight green shirt, jeans, and an enormous toothy grin.

“Oh, for me?” he squeals, eyeing the pie.

You step inside as Roger stays out on the porch to shake off the umbrella and finish his cigarette; Chrissie hates people smoking in her house, and one should get what they want on their birthday. “Obviously, it’s for Chris. But I suspect she’ll share.”

Chrissie appears in a blue dress, her wide-set pale eyes alight as she gazes at the pie. “At last! I finally get to try one of these! And yes, Freddie, I’m only going to have the teeniest tiniest piece, so there will be more than enough to go around.” She embraces you and takes the pie. “Is this homemade?! It is, isn’t it?”

“Happy birthday, Chrissie,” you announce with a tired smile. Queen leaves for the News Of The World Tour in two days. You’re leaving with them, to everyone’s palpable relief; Freddie and Brian have never mentioned the headline to you, but they know about it of course. Everybody knows. It’s an elephant in every room, an ancient beast that quakes the floor when it walks.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy,” Chrissie tells you. “I always do.” But she’s a little thankful, too; because spending months away on tour is undoubtedly preferable to a permanent absence, a visibly missing piece like a chip in a tooth.

“I know. I’ll call.”

Roger steps inside the massive Chelsea home. “Happy birthday, Chris!”

She promptly spins away, ignoring him, and ferries the pie off to the kitchen. Freddie wraps an arm around Roger’s shoulder and steers him into the living room where Mary, John, a perpetually pregnant Veronica, and a host of assorted Mullens and Mays are passing the twins around like footballs and chatting over appetizers and tea and cookies. Biscuits, you correct yourself. And the shrimp cocktail are called prawns.

“What did you say your name was?” a middle-aged, rotund, bearded man asks John disinterestedly. “Josh? James?”

“John, actually. I’m the bassist.”

The man frowns as he gobbles down a shrimp. “Oh, how odd, I’ve never even heard of you.”

“Yeah?” Roger pipes as he sails over and claps the man aggressively on the shoulder. “Well let me introduce you. This is John Richard Deacon and he wrote You’re My Best Friend, you’ve heard of that one, right? He learned the electric piano to compose it. Yes, he doesn’t just play bass, he has all sorts of gifts. He’s massively talented. He builds amps and manages finances and can sketch pictures that look like freaking photographs...”

You wander into the kitchen where Chrissie is slicing herself a miniscule portion of Boston cream pie. “Oh fuck it, it’s my birthday. I’m having a proper piece of pie, thighs be damned.” She goes in for a second attempt. “You want any?”

“No, I’m alright. I haven’t been feeling well.”

Her brows knit together in concern. “Not compulsively consuming your own weight in snacks to avoid socializing with strangers? That’s unlike you.”

Well, since you asked, I was feeling even more piggish than usual until I found out my husband was fucking somebody else, and also that the entire country knows about it. “Yeah, weird.”

Brian enters the kitchen. “Oh, pie!”

“You want a piece?” Chrissie asks cheerfully. So they’ve made up somehow. Like they always do, like they always will.

“Yes, absolutely, but I’ll get it myself, love. You go enjoy yourself. It’s your day.”

She beams up at him and journeys out to the living room. You are in no rush to join her. Watching Roger charm the crowd, allowing him to dazzle you, to lull you back into his orbit like the subsidiary moon of a vast, ringed planet...no, you have no stomach for that at all. You pour yourself a glass of red wine and try to swallow without tasting it.

Brian’s doting demeanor evaporates like he’s taken off a mask. He sighs, mixes himself a Vesper, sips it as he leans against the kitchen counter and studies you warily. “How are things?”

“Paradisiacal.” Each night you sleep in the guest room with the blue-grey walls and the seahorse-patterned blankets. Roger tried to give you the main bedroom, still sleeps in a spare room in case you ever decide you want it; but you like that the blue room is smaller, more humble, that it smells like John’s brand of cigarettes, that there is no gaping emptiness where Roger usually is. Roger doesn’t try to talk to you about Dominique. He is attentive, optimistic, easygoing, affectionate; he lights the fireplace in the living room and brings you hot chocolate, he wears the red hat you once knit him every time he leaves the house. But he left the paperwork showing he’d sold the apartment—the ‘London Love Nest,’ isn’t that what the headline called it?—out on the kitchen table where you would see it. You know he’s waiting for you to forgive him, as if that’s an inevitability. And every once in a while you feel a guttural stab of fear that he might be right. Someone puts Hotel California on the record player out in the living room. “Every time I hear this goddamn song I get acid trip flashbacks. I start thinking of sharks for some reason.”

“It reminds me of...” Brian’s gaze goes murky. “Well, of a girl from New Orleans.”

The one from the hot tub. The one with a peach tattooed on her shoulder blade.

“We have a stop there,” you say. “You know, on the tour. We’ll be there for a few nights.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

No, perhaps that’s all he’s been thinking about.

“How are you these days, Bri? Two beautiful children, adoring wife, We Will Rock You becoming a fantastically successful single...your world must seem pretty golden.”

“You’d think so.” He peers out the window where raindrops are clinging to fogged glass and the November skies are illuminated with episodic flashes of lightning like Morse code. At last he says, very softly: “I think I married the wrong person.”

“I think I did too.”

Bri raises his eyebrows and clinks his Vesper against your wine glass. “So we were both right. Fantastic. Cheers.”

You gulp down the rest of your wine, feeling your stomach roil in protest. You pour another glass. Brian drains his Vesper.

“You want me to escort you out there?” Brian asks, gesturing towards the living room. “I’ll happily redirect everyone’s attention towards the twins if you’d like. They’re very convenient conversation starters.”

“No, thanks Bri. You go ahead.”

“Alright. If you insist.” A smile ghosts his lips. “I’m really glad you’re coming with us, love. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision. And I’m sure things won’t feel easy for a long time. But Queen wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get out there before I punch you in your fragile liver.”

Brian laughs, sets his glass in the sink, and disappears into the living room. You stall in the kitchen by yourself. You sip wine, browse through the family photos displayed on the refrigerator, listen to the polite chatter of the guests from a distance. Eventually you venture towards the living room before losing your nerve and veering down the hallway towards the back porch. Outside the rain is falling torrentially, the sky rumbling with thunder. John is sitting on a wooden bench under the roof and smoking as he gazes out into the storm.

“Hey,” he says, sliding over to make room for you on the bench.

You sit down beside him and hold out your hand. He stares at you for a moment, puzzled, before passing you his cigarette. You take one long drag and give it back to him. John blinks at you, stunned.

“That’s extremely bad for you,” he teases.

“So is getting hammered and driving into cop cars.”

He clutches his chest. “Ouch. I felt that in my soul.”

You shove him, chuckling. He points down at your boots. You swing your feet up to rest in his lap, and he lays his left hand on them while he smokes with his right.

“Go ahead,” he says. “I know you might not want to talk about it. That’s fine. But if there’s any baggage you’d like to unburden yourself of, I’m listening.”

I’ve got baggage, all right. I’ve got enough to fill a Boeing 747. “Everyone warned me. Everyone told me it was a terrible idea to fall in love with him. Everyone except you, John. Why is that?”

He’s slow and deliberate when he answers. “I never wanted you to be with someone because...you know...because you thought you should be with them. Because they were the ‘smart’ choice or the ‘safe’ choice or whatever. I wanted you to make your own decisions, whatever those were. I wanted you to be with someone...whoever that was...only because you wanted to be. Because you loved them.”

You nod. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

“I told you once that it didn’t mean anything to someone like Roger when he...you know. When he does what he does. I was telling the truth then, and I’m telling the truth now. I don’t think it meant anything to him. And I don’t know if that kills any of the pain I know you’re feeling, but I hope it does. Because you being in pain is the absolute last thing I’ve ever wanted. Are you angry with me for not trying to change your mind?”

“No,” you say immediately, and you mean it. “Not at all.”

“Good. Because they took away my driver’s license for a year and I’m probably going to need a lot of rides from you.”

You laugh, a brash authentic laugh, and John grins over at you.

Chrissie hauls the sliding glass door open and steps out onto the porch with a frustrated huff. “I know this party is technically for me, but when you’re the mother of infant twins sometimes all you really want is a smoke, a nap, and a bottle of vodka.” She lights a cigarette and plops down into a chair facing the bench.

“How are you, Chris?” What you mean is: Have you screamed much at your husband lately?

“I’m doing pretty well today, actually.”

“Is that because you’re genuinely happy or because you’ve trained yourself not to be sad?”

Chrissie smirks. “You’ll find those feel like the same thing after a while.”

“No, I won’t find out. Because I’m not staying with him.”

“Love...” Chrissie begins.

“I’ll stay in London. I’ll even stay with the band. But I’m not going to stay married to him.”

“Y/N, please, maybe you should think about this,” Chrissie presses. “I know you love him. And I know he makes you wonderfully happy when times are good. Maybe that’s all we can ask for, you know? Wives in our predicament. Maybe we can learn to cherish them when they’re with us, bottle up the magic, store it on a shelf to tide us over until they come back home. No one else is going to light you up the way he does. There’s only one Roger Taylor. Withdrawal from that is going to be hell.”

You glower out into the wind and rain and say nothing.

“And that woman, Dominique Beyrand? I’ve asked around about her, she’s got some husband back in France that she goes home to when she’s not working here. It’s just a fling for her too, it’s nothing serious. I don’t think there was any chance he would have ever considered actually leaving you for her.”

“He bought her an apartment, Chris.”

“Men do stupid things that don’t mean anything all the time. Isn’t that right, John?”

“Sure,” he offers ungenerously.

You stop yourself before the words tumble recklessly from your lips: Maybe you’re trying to convince yourself more than me, Chrissie. “I’m divorcing him,” you vow quietly.

“Okay,” Chrissie capitulates. “Okay. I’m sorry, love, please forgive me. I only got two hours of sleep, Teddy was crying all night.” She puffs on her cigarette and sighs mournfully. “I hate to say it, and I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I guess it was sort of lucky you never got pregnant. Can you imagine trying to split up when you have children together? Working out custody and finances and holidays, having to pretend like you don’t want to disembowel each other all the bloody time...it would be torture.”

John glares at her, his left hand still on your boots.

“Yeah,” you respond; but now you’re distracted, because you remember the reason why you had been so determined to ignore the phone when Chrissie called to warn you about the News Of The World headline. Because the kitchen phone was right next to the calendar, and the calendar would report in no uncertain terms that your period was due.

When was that? A week ago?

You can’t be late. You’ve never been late.

“Oh god,” you breathe.

“What?” John asks, concerned.

In reply, you lurch off the bench, stumble to the edge of the porch, and vomit red wine into the wet grass like a gush of blood. Chrissie soars to you and rubs your back as you retch into her lawn. “Oh no, you poor thing!”

“John, go away,” you choke out as he approaches. “I’m humiliated, I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“You saw me in a jail cell. I’m staying.”

You turn to look up at them. They read the raw horror and shock in your eyes. John’s jaw falls open and he shakes his head, firmly in denial. You could relate.

Chrissie gasps. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“No fucking way,” you wheeze. “After all this time, after all those months of nothing...”

“You better take a test,” Chrissie says. “Come on, I have a kit upstairs.”

She pulls you to your feet and leads you to her bathroom, deftly avoiding the increasingly intoxicated crowd downstairs. John waits just outside the door as Chrissie rummages around in the closet for the test kit. It’s a contraption that looks like a chemistry set, with a dropper and a test tube and a stand with a mirror. You piss into a paper cup—successfully although not with flying colors—and wash your trembling hands in the sink with a piece of pink soap shaped like a seashell. Then you lay on the cold linoleum floor with a folded towel for a pillow and a bucket within reach. Chrissie trickles a few droplets of urine into the test tube, mixes in the contents of a small plastic vial, and places the test tube in the holder that suspends it above the mirror.

Chrissie explains to John: “If she’s pregnant, the chemicals will form a brown ring in the tube. If there’s no ring, we’re in the clear.”

“How fitting,” you chuckle from the floor, dazedly, cynically. “That would be the only ring I’ve ever gotten.”

It takes two hours. The three of you loiter in the bathroom, Chrissie and John perched on the rim of the enormous garden tub, fidgeting and chitchatting anxiously. They alternate popping downstairs, mingling just long enough to not arouse suspicions, bringing back biscuits and bits of toast that they futility try to coerce you into eating. Chrissie doesn’t like the smell of cigarettes in the house, she never has; but now both she and John are chain smoking as they wait and periodically get up to check the test tube.

“This isn’t real,” you whimper. “This can’t be real, right? There’s no way the universe has this ironic a sense of humor.”

“Wait, something’s happening.” John waves Chrissie over to the test kit. She examines it.

“Love...” Chrissie begins, her voice tentative, her eyes glossy.

“No,” you insist. “No way, no fucking way, I don’t believe this...”

Chrissie turns the kit so you can view it, so you can see what she does reflected in the tiny mirror: a single dark ring that informs you you’re carrying Roger’s child.

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whatisthisidefk · 3 years

Text

The River, the Sea, and the Stars Part Five (SFW version)

They stood to bid goodbye to Dra's parents after the teapot was empty and the plate of sandwiches bare. Dra gave Therien the responsibility of repacking their bags with new supplies she gleaned from her parents, while she distributed half of her tea supply into clay jars on the kitchen shelves.

Soon, though, they slung their bags over their shoulders. Therien could almost see Dra vibrating, shifting her weight with the lashing of her tail as she turned her face to the afternoon sun that streamed across the road.

In a way, he understood. He wanted to be on the road, too, though the witches' cottage had been comfortable like a dream. He could see how easy it would be to get lost in this lazy little village among the herbs and flowers and forest.

"Merci, Mem, Din," he said. "I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality."

"Dra's talked so highly of you, for so long," said Mem, placing a hand on his arm in exactly the same way Dra often did. "I'm glad we finally met."

"So am I. I hope we can visit again when all this is over."

She patted his arm. "Here," she said, "Since you have room in your bag now, some pasties for the road. They'll stay good for a few days if you need 'em to." She handed him a parcel wrapped in a worn tea-towel, tied with yarn. Therien packed them away at the top of his satchel. They were still slightly warm, and though he'd just had lunch, his mouth watered at the scent of the herbs she must have used in baking them.

"Ready?" Dra called from the doorway, and Therien nodded.

"Let's go save Andros," he replied, and followed her into the morning.

***

They left the village behind in short order, staying on the road going westward. For a few hours, they were surrounded by thick forest on either side. Occasionally, they came to crossroads or offshoots, but each time Therien expected a clearing, there were only more trees.

He couldn't complain. The canopy provided shade, but enough sunlight made it through and dappled the ground. The road itself changed surface whenever they neared a crossroads or a settlement, but for the most part, it was well-tempered dirt and fairly even. The weather agreed with them, as well, warm but with a breeze that ruffled the leaves and made the forest whisper all around. It made for a pleasant walk, and it would have been perfect, except the silence gave Therien plenty of time to think about Andros.

As ever, the memory of Andros begging him not to follow replayed itself in his mind. But so did the sound of those chains, and the fear in his eyes. The tug in Therien's chest still pulled at him, guiding him, he imagined, though toward what, he didn't know. Was Andros in a cage somewhere, or enslaved? Was he afraid? Was he alone? Was he--

"You're quiet, even for you," Dra said, disrupting his thoughts.

Therien shook his head. He felt dizzy. "Thinking, that's all. Um...could we rest for a moment?" He slowed to a stop, swayed in place. "I feel like...not right."

She was at his side in an instant. "Here, off to the side. Sit on the grass. Easy, like that." She offered him a canteen. "Take a few sips. I'm sorry--it's been a lot."

The water helped. Therien wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Merci."

"Ça va?" She asked. He heard the concern in her voice and the use of French meant she worried about him somehow not having full use of his mental faculties.

Which was odd. "I'm fine, Dra," he said irritably. "What was that about?"

Her shoulders relaxed. "Sorry. I wanted to be sure you were okay. The Feywild is...it's a lot for mortals, you know? Things affect people here. You wouldn't climb a mountain without adjusting to the altitude over time, right? It's the same thing here. We just leapt in because it's urgent, but if we'd planned this, you would have come over and gone back a little at a time."

"You tell me this now?" He snorted a laugh. "It's probably all the glitter in the air. Honestly, I'm fine. I promise."

"Okay. But tell me if you feel strange again. A few minutes' rest won't make much of a difference in our journey, and you should be ready for anything."

He handed the canteen back to her after another swig and was about to agree to let her know, but they both stilled at a sound from the woods behind where they rested. He glanced sharply at her. "Did you hear something?"

She frowned. "I did. It sounded like--"

"--elp? Help? Anyone?" A querulous voice called, then, more quietly, as if to himself, "This is the worst bloody day. Help?"

Therien scrambled to his feet and, dizziness forgotten, he and Dra left the road to locate the source of the voice.

"Where are you?" called Dra as they moved through the trees. "Are you okay? Say something?"

"I'm here!" A note of hope entered the tone. "Careful of the slope by the large elm. I slipped and I'm stuck. Oh, for the love of the gods, help!"

They reached the tree in question. As they came around it, one on each side, they found a well-dressed young man thigh-deep in mud at the bottom of a depression in the forest floor. He clung to the broken limb of a tree that arced over the spot, and not far from where he was caught lay a wide-brimmed, feathered hat.

The man himself was quite obviously Fey, with icy blue skin and silver hair. He was also, Therien couldn't help but notice, very pretty. At the moment, however, those pretty features expressed a combination of annoyance and helplessness. He brightened considerably once he saw Therien.

"Ah, kind sir, lend me your aid?" He managed to bat his eyelashes and attempted to position himself in a more fetching manner, though that movement was hampered by the mud. Still, he gamely tried, and Therien couldn't help but laugh.

"Hold on," he said as he unhooked the rope from his belt. He handed one end to Dra. "Can you get this around the tree without falling in yourself?"

Dra gave a derisive snort. "My people are made for this," she stated. To the blue man, who had yet to acknowledge her, "How did you end up here, anyway? We're way off the road."

"My hat blew off," he said, with a sad glance at the offending accessory. "I chased it and almost had it, then I slipped." He pointed his chin at a swath of disturbed leaves that did indeed run from the tree to where he now waited. "I'm just glad no one was around to see that."

"Well," Therien said, bringing the man's attention back to him full force, "We'll have you out in a moment." He picked his way around to a shallower side of the depression and eyed the limb of the tree. "How secure is that, do you think?"

The man gave the branch an experimental tug. It held firm. "Seems strong to me…?"

"Good. I can use it for leverage. I'm going to throw this over the top, and you catch it. All right?" He tied the end into a large loop, big enough to go over the man's head and around his waist.

"Anything you say," said the man, a little breathlessly.

Therien glanced at Dra. "Got that end secured?"

"Yep," she replied cheerfully, with a little wave. She'd wrapped it once around the tree and braced the end in her hands. "Pull 'im out!"

He ran the rope across his back and around his forearm to his hand, then tossed the free end over the limb. "Catch!" The man grasped for it; as soon as he let go of the branch to wind his hands in the rope, he began to sink again. Therien gave him as much slack as he could without losing tension. "Get it under your hips and hold on!"

Therien pulled. At first, nothing happened, but then the man's legs began to come free with a sucking sound. Therien walked backwards to haul him out of the muck until the man could get both arms around the branch and his feet dangled in the air.

"Take up the slack, Dra," he called, and she did as he asked. It allowed him to keep his end of the rope secure as he moved closer to the man, sliding along the rope until he reached the downed limb and could put his hands out for the man to take.

After a moment, the man let go of the branch and allowed himself to fall into Therien's arms, safely away from the wet earth that had trapped him.

"Got you," said Therien.

"Yes, you do," sighed the man with a dreamy expression, "my hero."

***

Dra retrieved the hat while Therien set the man on his feet, though he seemed loath to let go of Therien quite yet. "Just a moment," he said demurely, "let me catch my breath. I'm in your debt, kind sir. Tell me, to whom do I owe my thanks?"

"Pretty sure you are the one who's supposed to introduce yourself first," Dra said dryly, which gave Therien a chance to extricate himself from the stranger's grasp.

"Oh, but of course. Where are my manners?" He bowed with a flourish. "I am Mnaer, prince of the Starlit Court. And truly, I owe you a debt of gratitude."

Dra rolled her eyes. "Oh, that makes sense on so many levels. Careful, Therien. He's got a reputation."

"My reputation is sterling," he began, then shrugged. "Actually, no, it's not. But sweet--Therien, is it?--please believe me when I say that I honor my debts. And," he added, "I have a feeling that repaying you for your help would be an utter pleasure."

"You really don't have to," Therien began, only to be cut off with a wave.

"I want to, lovely. At very least, let me buy you dinner." He seemed to notice Dra for the first time. "Both of you, of course. There's an inn not far from here. What do you say?"

Therien looked to Dra, who considered a moment. "Drinks, too?"

"I'll buy the whole inn if it helps." Mnaer's eyes returned to Therien's. "Please, allow a man a chance to express his thanks."

"All right," Therien said at last. "Dinner sounds lovely."

***

"What is that accent?" Mnaer asked once they were on the road. "I have never heard anything like it."

Therien ignored Dra's poorly covered snicker. "I'm French," he replied. "Um, from France."

"In the Mortal realm," Dra added, which seemed to startle Mnaer.

"You're a Mortal? How odd." His study of Therien took on a contemplative air. "I've never been there. Would you say something in your language?"

This was at least a conversation Therien had had many times before. Ever since he'd first gone to America, his accent had been a topic of interest. "Ah, je m'appelle Therien de Mer, et j'aime nager."

Mnaer faked a swoon. "Gorgeous. I have no idea what you said but it sounded incredible."

"I just said my name and that I like to swim." Therien shrugged. "It's just a language."

"Darling, it is not just anything. Maybe in the Mortal realm where they can't appreciate the sound of heaven, but here? The Feywild understands beauty, sweet Therien."

"Is literally everything out of your mouth some kind of flirtation?" Dra asked, irked. "Can't you see he's not interested? Gods."

As she stalked ahead, Mnaer frowned after her, nonplussed. "One never knows unless one tries," he called after her, but then he turned to Therien. "Is that true? Am I bothering you?"

Therien weighed his response carefully. "I don't mind it," he said at last. "But I am not interested in that kind of thing with anyone new."

"Oh. There's someone...not new?"

"I'm on a quest, according to what I've been told here, you see." Therien couldn't stop his soft smile. "I'm off to rescue my True Love."

Mnaer made a small sound of understanding. "She must be the fairest in the land."

"He is," said Therien with a sidelong glance. He didn't miss the way Mnaer brightened at that information. "His name is Andros."

The prince wound his arm through Therien's. "Now, this I must hear. Tell me all about him."

***

#river sea stars #jenny writes #original fiction #mlm #fantasy

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nearlymanaged · 4 years

Text

10. Des Mots Magiques

The last few weeks of the term seemed to fly by at the speed of light before the world came to a screeching halt. Remus felt not only pleased with himself, but also proud of his three best friends for how they finished their first half of their sixth year at Hogwarts. James and Peter had been doing better than just alright in their Potions lessons, and Sirius managed to scrape up an E on their mock History of Magic exam.

The four boys arrived at the Potters’ residence in the late afternoon on Christmas Eve. They spent the whole day playing two-a-side snow fight. James’ dad would occasionally join them, without leaving his study, by charming some snow balls to pelt whichever side was doing better at any given moment. They eventually got called back inside by James’ mum for some of the best dinners Remus had ever had the pleasure of eating - especially after exerting all his energy, trying to bring James and Sirius down.

He had been a guest of the Potters a few times before, and he always thoroughly enjoyed it. He would have never said a bad word about his own parents, but Mr. and Mrs. Potter seemed to love nothing more than caring for their son and his friends. Remus silently wondered if he could ever have such a home - full of love and laughter, instead of anxiety and quiet resentment.

He enjoyed chatting with James’ mum immensely; they would discuss topics ranging from Herbology to the ongoing war against Voldemort and his supporters. And James’ dad had such warmth about; Remus had never truly realised that dads didn’t have to be distant and strict and vague until he met Fleamont Potter.

Since Sirius now lived with the Potters, he had his own bedroom in their house, and he insisted that Remus take his bed that night.

“Your body gets wrecked enough as it is, we shouldn’t subject you to sleeping on that,” he pointed at the camping bed that Mr. Potter had set up in the room.

Remus had tried to argue but Sirius swiftly turned into a black dog on the spot, dragged a blanket off the foldout bed and onto the floor, and, after turning in circles a handful of times, curled up in the middle of it. “Thanks, Pads,” Remus had smiled at him and climbed into the empty bed.

On Christmas morning they all gathered in the sitting room to open presents and drink hot cocoa together (James had added a liberal splash of firewhiskey to each cup).

“Sirius, your hair is getting so long,” Mrs. Potter lightly brushed her hand over the top of his head as she walked past, collecting everyone’s now empty mugs.

“Yeah, I suppose it is…” Sirius tugged at a dark strand looking self-conscious all of a sudden, which didn’t happen all that often.

“It suits you, you look very handsome,” she beamed at him, effectively putting a proud grin on his face.

“I like it too,” Remus mumbled, more so to himself than anyone else.

“So what have you boys got planned for today?”

“We’re more than happy to help you cook!” Peter looked up at Mrs. Potter eagerly.

“So very sweet of you, but I’ll be quite alright. It’s your Christmas break, you should be having fun!”

“Well, actually,” Sirius got up from his chair and stretched. “I’ve been wanting to go to a record shop.”

“Great! Remus can come with you,” James grinned without skipping a beat.

“I suppose I can,” Moony agreed, albeit a little confused by James’ insistence. “What are you two going to do?”

“We’ve got...stuff, school stuff.”

“Oh really?” Mr. Potter peered at his son, but Remus never heard the rest of the conversation because Sirius grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room, evidently extremely eager to get going.

“It might not even be open today,” Remus pointed out but proceeded to put his shoes and coat on nonetheless.

“I know how to pick locks, remember?” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows.

“That is very much illegal, remember?”

The walk to the Muggle town took about thirty chatter and laughter filled minutes, towards the end of which Sirius started complaining about being cold. Of course, that was to be expected since he was wearing a leather jacket and no gloves or scarf or hat. Just as Remus was pointing this out, they rounded a corner and saw the record shop on the other side of the street. They could hear music coming from it, but when they walked up the steps leading to the door, they saw a ‘closed’ sign. Just for good measure, Sirius rattled the handle, but it unsurprisingly didn’t budge.

They could clearly make out now that the music coming out through the open window on the side of the building was some kind of a french song.

“What are you doing?” Remus asked slowly as he watched Sirius walk over to the window that was set in the wall just above his head, and, keeping his eyes on it, started walking backwards.

“I’ll just take a quick peek. Maybe they’ll let us in.”

“Sirius, that’s a bit creepy,” Remus laughed, watching him jump up a couple of times before turning into a massive dog. He could jump a lot higher as Padfoot and so when he leapt up again, he used his strong front legs to hang over the windowsill. “At least technically not illegal, I suppose…”

“Oh merde!” A surprised yelp came from inside the building. “Mais qu'est-ce que c'est?”

A brown haired boy, probably around their age, poked his head out the same window; after glancing around quickly, his eyes fell upon Remus. “Is this your puppy?” He asked squarely, a noticeable accent clinging to each word - French, Remus was sure.

“Er, yeah…” He pulled his lips into a smile, wondering how Sirius liked being referred to as a puppy.

The answer to that came in a loud, angry growl when the stranger tried to pet the dog. Then, Sirius leapt down to the ground and, having no choice at this point, sat down next to Remus looking rather like an obedient pet.

“Not very friendly? But ‘e has good taste in music.”

“Apparently so. We uh, didn’t mean to bother. Didn’t realise the shop would be closed.”

“Ah you are not bothering me. Come in...” The boy disappeared and seconds later opened the front door. “Please.”

Remus glanced down at Sirius, barely able to contain an amused smile, and gave him an almost imperceptible shrug before walking over to the boy. “Is it alright if my puppy comes in?”

“Of course. I don’t think my uncle would be pleased but ‘e is not ‘ere.”

“Does your uncle own this place then?” Remus asked, brushing his fingertips against the covers of records as we walked deeper into the shop, followed by Padfoot.

“Yes. I am only ‘ere for the ‘olidays. My parents think it would be charmant to spend Christmas in the English countryside. But I think it is so boring ‘ere. I only like this shop,” the boy motioned around as he stopped in front of a record player. “Do you know this song?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it…” Remus mumbled.

“I must play it for you from the beginning then!” And with that, the boy lifted the needle of the player and repositioned it at the edge of the vinyl disc. “It is a well known love song in France,” he added before lowering the needle again, allowing the music to fill the air.

The song was beautiful, Remus had to admit, even though he had no idea what they were singing about. He liked the sound of a beautiful language that seemed like it possessed magic beyond anything he’d ever learnt at Hogwarts. That night when Sirius was speaking French, talking him to sleep, Remus thought his heart was going to explode. He had listened to the hypnotising crooning of his voice, dreaming up images in his head of the words he was hearing were those of professing love. Of course, he was sure, Sirius was probably talking about how boring that week’s History of Magic lesson had been or something just as mundane. But he felt like he could have curled up in his voice all the same and spent a hundred years lying there, on that sofa, so close to him.

The boy wasn’t saying anything so Remus started pacing down the rows of boxes full of records, getting lost in the memory that the song had brought back in his mind. Sirius was striding alongside him the whole time, up until the song ended.

“‘E is comparing ‘is lover with the wind and smell of roses,” the boy spoke again right behind Remus, who hadn’t noticed him come up and flinched slightly. “‘E is saying that she is a beautiful love story, that ‘e will not stop reading it.”

“That’s...very poetic,” Remus blurted, feeling a bit out of the water discussing the topic. “What is she saying?”

“She says, it’s all just words. She does not believe ‘im anymore. She thinks it is only sweet, euh...fragile words.”

“So it’s a sad song?”

“Yes and no. Is it better to have passion that is very short and go away, or is it better to never have it at all?” Again, Remus didn’t really know how to answer such a question, and posed by a stranger no less, all while Sirius was listening to them. “You are turning red,” the boy stated to add to it all. “British boys are so shy sometimes, I have noticed this.” A strange smirk played on his lips.

“You ask complicated questions, I suppose,” Remus answered, growing a little annoyed by the boy's obvious enjoyment in making him feel uneasy.

“Red suits you. I am called Vincent,” he turned around on his heel and strode over to the record player before glancing over his shoulder. “What is your name?”

“Remus,” Moony shoved his hands in his pockets and cast a glance at the black dog who was starting to squeal and whine a little.

“Remus… I like it. Do you live here, Remus? I’ve never seen you.”

“No, I’m just visiting for the holidays as well.”

“Ah, I see. ‘Ow long will you be ‘ere?”

“For another week or so.”

“Were you looking for something specific? To buy?” Vincent casually changed the topic, again.

“Er, not really. Just wanted to browse around, I guess.”

“Then what should I play now?”

Remus looked at Sirius out of the corner of his eyes, hoping he’d indicate to him somehow which record he wanted to hear; instead, he was peering at Vincent with unyelding intensity, almost glaring, if his canine snout allowed for such expression.

“H-how about Velvet Underground? Do you know them?” Remus looked over at Vincent from across the shop.

“I do not think so.” Regardless, he strode over to the box labelled ‘V’ and pulled out a record. “You can come closer, I will not bite,” he uttered once he stood in front of the player again.

“I might,” Remus mumbled without thinking as he shuffled deeper into the shop again.

Vincent lifted his face as the first notes of Sunday Morning filled the room; there was that same peculiar smile etched in his features. “Who are you visiting for the ‘olidays? Not a girlfriend--” his breath caught, eyes gleaming, before he added, “or a boyfriend?”

“No, just a friend and his family…” Remus answered, wondering if it was the language barrier that made the whole interaction so strange. “So how long will you be staying here for?” He asked, more out of politeness than anything else.

“Two weeks. Maybe this trip will not be so boring in the end?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Remus shrugged with a small smile, not really understanding what the boy meant.

Sirius seemed to be eager to get out of there, his whining growing ever louder, but Remus didn’t want to seem rude and walk out right then, when Vincent had just put on the record for them. He shot Sirius a quick, somewhat exasperated look and turned back to the French boy. “What do you think? Bit different than your music, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is very different. Is this your favourite artist?” He looked vaguely put off.

“Not really. I like a little bit of everything.”

“Ah, I see. I like the first song more. ‘E sounds, I don’t know… ‘ow do you say? Aggressive maybe, no?”

“I suppose Lou Reed doesn’t have the most pleasant voice…” Remus laughed a little, bobbing his head.

“Your puppy doesn’t like it?” Vincent looked over at Padfoot who, for all the boy knew, was agitated by the music.

“Oh, he likes it alright.”

There was a pause that stretched while the song went on; an awkward pause, Remus felt, as his smiling eyes kept wandering from Vincent to Padfoot, to boxes of records, to the player. He started wondering if maybe the boy was growing bored, maybe he regretted letting them in, maybe it was time to leave...

“How did you get these scars?” Vincent spoke softly, yet unexpectedly, and lifted his hand, as if intending to touch a long-healed mark on the side of Remus’ face; instead, his fingers hovered inches from Moony’s’ skin before he retracted them.

“Er…I-- It’s...” Moony stumbled over his words, surprised by the bluntness.

“Forgive me, I did not want to offend,” the boy pressed both hands to his chest; now it was him who seemed to be blushing. “I think they are beautiful.”

“You...what?”

The boy let out a small giggle. “They look very unique...in a good way. I think they make you more ‘andsome.”

Remus felt his ears get hot as he stared at the boy; it was as though he only now took a good look at him since he had entered the shop. Vincent was shorter than him, probably a little shorter than Sirius. He had brown hair and eyes that were so dark, they almost appeared black. He had perfectly straight teeth and a tanned glow to his skin, even in the middle of winter.

Before Remus could respond, Sirius bounded across the length of the shop and put his giant frown paws on his shoulder, nudging Vincent out of the way as he did so.

“‘E is very funny dog!” The boy chuckled.

“He is…” Remus pushed the dog off himself; Padfoot wasn’t relenting, however - he snatched the sleeve of his coat and started tugging at it, slowly inching backwards, towards the door. Remus wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave now. He was overcome by a kind of curiosity - this French boy seemed to be flirting with him. “I er...I think I ought to get going,” he breathed out, trying to shake Sirius off. “Thank you for...er, thank you.”

He felt a rush of excitement as the boy gave him a rather disappointed smile. Remus had become so wrapped up in his feelings for Sirius that he was taken aback by how nice it felt to have this stranger notice him, how flattered he was by it.

Just then, Vincent took Remus’ hand in his. “Come back again before you leave, Remus?”

“I-- I’ll try,” he beamed at the boy before giving in to Sirius and getting dragged outside.

Sirius didn’t waste any time before turning back into his human self, which Remus found a bit reckless, considering the boy might have been looking out the door or one of the windows.

“Well that was a drag,” he folded his arms over his chest as they started walking back the same way they had come. “What a pretentious little git.”

“I think he was alright…”

“Zis is a song about love, eet is not aggressive but full of passion. But you wouldn’t know anything about eet, British boys are so pudibond,” Sirius did a cruel yet rather accurate impression and rolled his eyes. “Fils de pute prétentieux.”

Remus gaped at him, his whole upper body turned towards Sirius. “The fleas bothering you again, aren’t they? I’m telling you, we can get rid of them very easily,” he let out a melodious chuckle but Sirius merely pouted, hugging himself tighter.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #marauders #hogwarts #fanfic

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undertaker1827 · 4 years

Note

JWJWNAKAAN PROMT 1 AND 4 WITH GRELL AND HER S/O ANS HER S/O JUST WATCHED GRELL REAP THEIR BEST FRIENDS SOUL AND GRELL SEES THEM WATCHING AND IS LIKE SHIT FORGOT TO SAY IM A REAPER!!1!1!1 I LOVE UR WRITING AND I KNOW YOULL DO GOOD WITH IT 💕💕 HOPE UR STAYING SAFE AND DRINKING PLENTY OF WATER

I am drinking plenty of water, I hope you are too! Thank you and I’m glad you enjoy my writing, and I’m so sorry this took me so long, I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten you!!

Hope you all enjoy and have a look at my masterlist?

Today was going to be a good day. You had woken up early with the intent to get up and get out. It was summer, it was a rare occasion in which the sun was beaming down over London and it was overall the perfect day for your plans. More accurately the plans for you and you best friend. Today had been in the works for a long time, keeping you both sustained through cold days and times where the day had not been exactly right. You were going to meet each other at London Liverpool Street station, then grab the tube to the centre of the city. Breakfast was going to be somewhere along the banks of the Thames, probably sandwiches and a good, strong cup of coffee each. Then the day would truly begin. You were going to hit all of the major tourist destinations, despite having already been to many of them previously. You planned to visit some of the on location shoots of your favourite show, purely for the sake of taking pictures and being able to prove you had in fact been there. You were going Asian for lunch, though where more specifically you had not yet decided, and all out fancy for dinner. And if you didn’t get home until the early hours of the next morning, who was going to stop you? Especially given that your friend hadn’t been feeling so well recently. This was bound to list their spirits.

It was still early when you ran though droves of commuters at Liverpool Street, waving your travel coffee cup in greeting. Your friend lifted a hand in return, though even from a distance you could see they looked a bit pale.

“Hey, you alright?” you asked, a little breathless from having moved so quickly. They explained they had felt quite ill for the last few days, but absolutely rebutted your attempts at going home and postponing the day out. You had been planning it for too long, they said, and really, you were excited enough to agree. You were making your way along the South side of London’s great river, a quitter spot and certainly not on the average tourist information sheet, but it was very close to an on location shooting site. It was really just a case of finding the exact place…

“There!” You called out suddenly, briefly glancing over your shoulder to beckon your friend and then running full pelt, thrilled at your discovery. In your excitement, you failed to see your friend starting to lean heavily on a black fence, nor did you see them collapse to their knees and finally fall to the ground. Location confirmed, you turned to speak to your friend, only to find they were not there. Calling their name apparently did nothing either. Becoming increasingly concerned, you quickly retraced your steps, only to hear an achingly familiar voice speaking clearly from around the corner. A voice belonging to someone who claimed she was too busy with work to go out with you the Friday just passed. Your steps carried you forwards until you could see crimson flooding the now grey, drab street. So focused were you on the explosion of colour that you didn’t see what she was standing over.

“…August 1995, died July 18th, 2019 aged 24 years. Heart attack. No notes of interest.” With that you watched as your lover, your crimson Grell yanked a chainsaw out of the lifeless body of your best friend, having placed a stamp in a book and returned both to the pockets of her coat. “Apologies darling, you truly were so young. But there such is life, yes? Now I have to-“

“Grell?!” The scream ripped through your throat before you had time to second guess it. “What the hell have you done?!” Grell flew around to face you, coat flaring out to frame her body and hair whipping around her head, the bloody chainsaw held out to the side with a strength you hadn’t know she possessed. You were knelt on the ground by your best friend in seconds, holding their hand and whispering to them, illogically trying to get a response, any response. Focused as you were on their body, you hadn’t seen Grell’s eyes widen at the sound of your voice, nor had you noticed the shock passing over her features or the realisation adorning it not a moment later.

“I never told you...” Grell breathed, amazed by her own carelessness regarding someone she cared so much about.

“Never told me what?” You choked out, looking up through the mist coating you vision. “Never told me what?!” Grell’s typically concerned look faded to something much softer, uncharacteristic of her outside of home. A quiet, sad air passed over her.

“That I’m a reaper.” You felt sick. You felt so sick.

“You just murdered my best friend and now you’re trying to play games with my mind? What the hell!”

“Y/N...” Gasping for air that didn’t want to come, you tried to push back your nausea, tears running down your cheeks and shaking your head. “Please, I know it was careless of me I just never thought - look it’s a lot to take in, I understand. But please listen to me. Look! My To-Die list, dispatch give me a new one every day. Y/N look!” She was desperate, you could see that. But even as you took the leather bound note book and glanced over your friend’s entry, you absolutely refused. This was utter madness. You trusted Grell, you were supposed to be able to trust her!

You threw the book back at her, uncaring as to whether she caught it or not. But when you turned back to the body laying next to you, your fractured heart broke to see someone already moving them. Eyes widening, you shook your head frantically and stumbled to your feet clumsily following after a man dressed all in black. He had a hearse pulled over in a tiny backstreet opposite to where they had been killed and he appeared to be taking them to it. He had already laid them inside by the time you got there.

“W-wait, please,” you whispered, emotion overwhelming your voice as you all but pushed past the stranger. “That’s my friend. That’s-”

You had almost reached their shoulder as a hand closed around your wrist, gentle but firm and strikingly cold.

“Come away, now,” the man murmured quietly, sliver bangs covering most of his face but his mere presence somehow calming.

“Undertaker,” Grell warned from over your shoulder, grip on her weapon tightening. ‘Undertaker’ raised a placating hand, carefully extracting yours from his hearse and starting to lead you back to Grell. When you realised this, you dug your heels in almost immediately.

“No. Don’t, she’s a murderer, she killed them!” You pointed behind you, trying to get this man to understand what had happened. Only he saw Grell’s face fall into despair.

“She’s not.” You paused in your protestations, raising the wrist he was still holding between you. What? “What she told you is true, she’s a grim reaper. They harvest the souls of the dead, they do not actively kill them. I can only assume it never occurred to her that she should tell you.” You turned, looking from Grell to Undertaker and back again.

“Y/N it’s true, I swear it,” she murmured, expression pained.

“Did you never notice her eyes?” Grell frowned, and you both moved to face Undertaker. “You must have, surely.” You moved to run a hand through your hair.

“Of course I noticed, I just... I thought the thing about chartreuse phosphorescent eyes was just a legend. I never realised, I never knew it was real!” Undertaker nodded.

“Understandable. I will have to go now, though. A fresh stiff always attracts too much attention.” His hand raised to silence your words before you had a chance to say them. “You’ll be able to see them again, just not right away. I’ve got my own job to think about.”

You and Grell stood in silence as the hearse drove away. It took you a while, but you eventually mustered up the courage to turn around, grabbing her elbow to make her walk with you and then quickly dropping it again.

“Will you explain? Please?”

“Of course,” she whispered. “As both myself and Undertaker already said, I’m a reaper. I only collect people’s souls when they die, I don’t kill them. It was her time.” Hands stuffed into your pockets, you glanced over to the river you were now walking besides.

“Could I have done anything?” Grell gave a small, sad shake of her head. You nodded in return. After another 10 minutes of silence, she spoke again.

“Can I do something? What do you need?” You inhaled deeply.

“I want to go home,” you started. “I don’t want to be alone,” was added more quietly on to the end.

“Hold onto my arm?” You glanced up at Grell, weighing up your options for a moment before deciding what the hell and then doing just that. The next thing you knew you were standing back in your apartment. Your incredulity was met by the reaper explaining a form of portalling was also something they could do. She looked at you calmly, silently asking what else you needed.

“Please just hold me?”

Grell nodded, dropping the chainsaw - which she had explained was actually a death scyth - and walking towards you, proceeding to sweep her arm beneath your legs then carry you to an armchair, sitting comfortably with you curled into her. Head resting on her shoulder and eyes slightly glazed, she drew gentle patterns along your back.

“Thank you.” It came out as a hushed whisper. Grell shook her head, squeezing you tightly to her.

“I’m so sorry.” You just nodded, squeezing your eyes tightly shut and trying to make sense of everything. You thought it would take a while.

#black butler #black butler grell #black butler grell x reader #black butler grell sutcliff #grell #grell sutcliff #grell sutcliff x reader #grell x reader #female grell #black butker x reader #black butler reader inserts #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x reader

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gottlem · 4 years

Text

summer fl(in)g. gigi/crystal

a/n i made crystal sad about 3/4 through and im SORRY i was projecting. anyways theres a tiny tiny bit of angst but MOST of this is just dumb gays in l*ve. im still getting used to writing fics so be nice pls !!!! also if u want a pt2 be sure to let me know!

summary: lockdown in summer can be lonely, but Crystal and Gigi make sure they never feel alone. thank god they have good service. (3.8k words)

When lockdown was announced, Crystal wasn’t surprised. The pandemic was taking the world by storm and yeah, it fucking terrified her. But she had to look on the bright side. So that's what she did. Just as the announcement came to an end, Crystal’s phone pinged from her pocket and she smiled to see her friends' names light up on the screen.

JANtastic: well its official

miss cox: Yeah I’m gonna miss u guys!!!

goodegirl: you say that as if u won’t be spending lockdown with jan. i’ll be ALONE thanks for asking

CRYstal: hey i’ll be alone too !!! I’ll text u everyday to keep u company :-))

goodegirl: i’m gonna hold u up to that

And Gigi did hold her up to that. The country was two days into lockdown when Crystal received her first message.

goodegirl: ugh we are how many days into lockdown? And ive already had A MILLION people hit me up with “hows quarantine treating u ;)” i am SICK.

When Crystal read the text, an odd feeling bubbled in her stomach. She told herself it was because she wasn’t used to out-of-the-blue messages from Gigi yet, they just didn’t talk that much, but looking back she admits there was probably (definitely) more to it than that. Of course the girls had already been friends, but Crystal had never found it in herself to speak to Gigi that much because, well, she was intimidatingly gorgeous. They got on well in groups, where Crystal could try to focus her attention on someone who didn’t make her face red every time she looked at her, but she knew if she invited Gigi out by themselves, she would make a fool of herself. It was stupid really, it wasn’t even like she had feelings for her - she was just too pretty, and Crystal didn’t know how to handle herself around someone who looked like they belonged in a vogue magazine. A ping shook her from her thoughts.

goodegirl: like i get that ppl are thirsty rn. i get it. i am too. but is that really the BEST they can come up with?

Crystal needed to reply. But what could she even say to that?

CRYstal: at least u have people trying to hit you up ://

goodegirl: omg what??? ur telling me not ONE person has tried to slide into those dms? they need to get on that! ur a catch

Crystal felt her face flush at the comment. Did Gigi really think she was a catch? Or maybe she’s just being nice? That was probably it. Just friendly banter.

CRYstal: nope haha! ANYWAYS. hows quarantine treating u ;-)

goodegirl: very funny. bitch.

From then on, the texts flowed easily between the two and Crystal started to ask herself why she hadn’t done this earlier. So what if Gigi was offensively attractive? They clicked so easily - Gigi was smart, quick witted, and didn’t take anything too seriously. So really, she was Crystal's perfect match. As a friend. Platonically. That night, they texted until Crystal was struggling to even keep her eyes open. It was a conversation that felt natural to them, bringing up anything that came into their heads and letting eachother start stupid tangents without fear of judgement. Gigi found Crystal's ability to ramble on about any random subject impossibly endearing, but she wouldn’t admit that out loud. Not yet, anyways.

After three days of almost constant texting, Crystal facetimed Gigi for the first time. She picked up within seconds with wide eyes and a grin on her face.

“Hey you” If Crystal couldn’t see her smile (which she absolutely could) then she could definitely hear it. Gigi’s voice was soft and she hadn’t realised how much she missed it until she was reminded of it. The best thing was that Gigi sounded genuinely happy to speak to Crystal, it made her ecstatic. Crystal had called in the late afternoon, just before the sun had started to set, so she could see golden light shining gently onto Gigi’s features. It left her speechless for a second. How many times was Gigi going to leave her completely unable to reply by merely talking to her? This girl was going to be the death of her. When Crystal finally came to, she managed out a soft, but casual, reply, hoping that she had covered up the embarrassing amount of time it took for her to speak. If Gigi noticed, she didn’t mention it.

It took them a while to get into the rhythm of actually talking to each other - texts made it easy to think over before you send, and Gigi had never really been one to think before she spoke aloud anyway. She didn’t want to scare Crystal off with how blunt she could be, but after some awkward laughs and stuttered jokes, the pair slowly fell into a rhythm they felt surprisingly comfortable in; they bounced off each other's jokes and soon enough their cheeks hurt from smiling. A few hours into the call, Crystal was sitting comfortably on her bed, her phone propped up with pillows so she and Gigi could still see each other. She caught herself staring again. It started off as small glances that lingered a bit longer than they should, but it was easy to do that and quickly cover it up, especially on facetime. Soon enough, Crystal would completely daze off for minutes, just staring at the girl on her screen. She figured out she really liked looking at Gigi, and Gigi didn’t seem to mind.

Gigi thinks Crystal’s voice is her favourite sound. After about 5 minutes of hearing run on sentences about god knows what, she had already decided she could listen to her talk forever. About anything. She really didn’t care as long as it was Crystal and she was talking to her. As the call progressed into the late hours of the night, the pair had started to get giggly - the tiredness they were feeling was starting to take effect, but it made them anything but sleepy. At 11:56pm, Gigi decided Crystal’s laugh was her second favourite sound. She would sometimes giggle, sometimes she’d shake with silent laughter, but her favourite was when she gave into a full-belly laugh. The kind of laugh that substitutes for a full core workout. That was Gigi’s favourite.

Crystal was obsessed with Gigi’s smile. It softened Gigi, showed a side of her that Crystal hadn’t been acquainted to previously, but she was so glad she knew now. Gigi could be harsh sometimes, she had learned this years ago and had just accepted it as who Gigi was, but after seeing that damn smile, it was hard to think that Gigi was even capable of hurting a fly. Crystal was quick to realise the mean girl facade (which had only made her scarier to talk to, and somehow more attractive) was just that - a facade. Walls she had built up. Crystal was eager to break them down, and she felt like she was making a good start everytime Gigi smiled like that.

They hung up when Gigi started yawning more than she was talking, she insisted it was just because she was tired, and Crystal wholeheartedly believed her. When Gigi’s face disappeared from her screen, Crystal was still smiling. Her cheeks hurt and she felt whole. She took a deep breath and took in the silence for a moment - she was alone again. She didn’t feel lonely. Despite her ever-growing fatigue, Crystal just couldn’t fall asleep, her head was buzzing with Gigi’s voice, and her laugh, and her smile, and her eyes, and- Crystal was in deep shit. She was all too familiar with the feeling of butterflies manifesting in her stomach, the thoughts of a particular person on her mind constantly. To be completely honest, she hated it. Falling for anyone had never ended well for her, and falling for someone she was already friends with? Even worse. There was no way this would end without somebody getting hurt, and that somebody would probably be Crystal. And yet, being stuck in isolation, she thought the idea of possibly having a girlfriend didn’t sound too bad, but that might have been the lack of human contact talking.

Gigi let her thoughts wonder as she drifted off into sleep. She wasn’t one to get crushes, but when she fell, she fell hard. And willingly. There was just something about the drama of having such strong feelings for someone, and playing guessing games on how they felt. And by the way Crystal had been staring at her all night, Gigi felt like she was on the right tracks. She liked the way her cheeks would flush if she thought too hard about the girl, or how butterflies would dance around in her stomach, making her feel lighter than a feather. Maybe she was just a hopeless romantic, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She allowed herself to dream up scenarios of herself and Crystal being together once this whole situation was over. She quite liked how it looked in her head.

As the days passed, Gigi and Crystal found themselves spending more of their waking hours talking to each other over facetime than they did doing anything else. They were both falling quickly, only mildly aware of each other's adoration. It didn’t take very long for the casual flirting to start. Everytime Gigi gave an off-handed compliment about how Crystal sounded “really pretty today” or how her laugh is “the prettiest thing”, the other girl would turn bright red and freeze up. Gigi would tease her about it, which only made her more and more flustered. She thought she’d eventually get used to it, but she never did. Crystal tried to flirt back,really tried, she wanted more than anything to make Gigi stumble over her words like she does to her so often, but she would always be completely unfazed by every compliment Crystal could think of. Crystal found her ability to keep her composure so easily both irritating and compelling.

It took Crystal a few days to find something that would finally, finally break Gigi down. Pet names. When she had casually let ‘babe’ slip in the middle of a sentence, she could practically see the breath that got stuck in Gigi’s throat before she started to choke on nothing but air. When Crystal asked if she was ok, she answered with a question.

“Did you just call me babe?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Crystal genuinely wanted to make sure that it was ok, but the comment came off as less of a question, and more as straight up flirting.

“No. Nope. Not a problem at all. What were we talking about?”

Crystal doesn’t press further, taking pride in being able to make the girl so speechless, and continues what she was saying as if nothing had stopped her in the first place. She watched as Gigi’s blush died down very, very slowly, only to watch it burn up again every time Crystal repeated the pet name. She absolutely adored it.

“You’re cute when you blush, babe” Gigi made a noise at this. Crystal made a note of that before deciding that this would never get old.

Soon enough, the girls were in a comfortable routine - talking every day until one of them would give in to sleep. It was usually Crystal. Gigi would stay on the call for a bit, just to listen to the girl’s breathing, it provided an unexpected comfort to her. Plus Crystal was adorable when she slept. The routine was broken one day about a month into the lockdown, though nobody was really paying attention to what day it was anyway. Gigi had been awake for no more than an hour when she started to miss Crystal, so she gave her a call. Crystal didn’t pick up. Gigi called again, just in case Crystal had her phone on silent, but she was met with no answer. Instead, she was sent a text, a text which really didn’t explain anything. At all.

CRYstal: hey !!! sorry can’t pick up rn but i promise u i will call in like an hour or two ???? speak to u soon love !!!! <3

It was unusual for Crystal to miss out on a call - she was usually the one to be ringing Gigi. What could she even be doing? Gigi needed a distraction, something to pass the time instead of sitting and waiting. That was when she realised she hadn’t worn any makeup in weeks, so she sat herself down and started on a full face - the process of doing her makeup always calmed her down, so it was a welcome distraction. Just as she finished, her phone began ringing. She didn’t have to check to see who it was.

“Hi! Sorry I didn’t answer before I was kinda busy” Gigi was speechless. A pixelated Crystal was beaming at her from her phone screen. And she had green hair now. This is why she didn’t pick up? The bitch was dyeing her hair? It did look really pretty though. Like, really, really pretty.

“Quarantines really getting to you that much huh?” Gigi decided against gushing about Crystal’s new hair - that would be giving her what she wanted.

“Do you like it?” She loved it. Adored it.

“It’s nice”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“Needy are we?” That shut her up. She changed the topic in an instant.

“So... you look really pretty today!”

That night, the girls fell back into their easy routine. It had been hours since she first saw it, but Gigi couldn’t keep her eyes off of Crystal and her new look. It really suited her. It just felt so utterly Crystal. The green haired girl was in the middle of a long rant about how One DIrection “are definitely planning a reunion really really soon” when Gigi had to stop her.

“I fucking love your hair, Crys” She blushed at the out-of-the-blue compliment.

“Really? I thought it was just nice?” Gigi shook her head.

“I was teasing, of course I love it. It suits you so much, you look beautiful” She was smiling ear to ear. Crystal loved it when Gigi gushed over her like this. It made her feel like there could be something there, like this was more than friends bored in quarantine.

“Thanks,” Crystal paused for just a moment before her face lit up “Oh my God, you should do something to your hair too!” Gigi hated that idea, and shook her head affectionately at the girl's adorable excitement. She felt slightly bad when she told her that she would be caught dead before doing anything to her hair - she loved the deep brown colour it had always been, and was happy with how the length framed her face. Crystal however, was incessant. Gigi was surprised when she found herself telling Crystal that she’d “think about” changing her hair up.

Saying this was a huge mistake. Crystal reminded her every other hour that she had to dye it or cut it or just do something, and it drove Gigi insane. It took her all but two days to finally cave in - it irked her that Crystal had this much power over her. She wanted to do something shocking, something that would shut Crystal up about her damn hair for good. So she shaved it.

She did it when Crystal fell asleep after a particularly heated debate about her hair (the second of the night) and Gigi hung up to get to work on it. To call it an impulse decision wasn’t perhaps the most accurate, seeing as though she had been bugged about it for a solid 48 hours, but waking up that morning, Gigi hadn’t expected that all her hair would be gone by the time she went to sleep. Once she had finally bitten the bullet, it took her an hour to admit that she actually kind of liked the look - plus it was fun to touch.

When Crystal called her that morning, Gigi took a moment to herself before answering. She hadn’t told her about the change in her appearance and hoped she would like it, or at least be pleased that Gigi finally listened to her. She took a breath and picked up, feigning confidence with a casual “morning!”. She watched Crystal’s eyes go wide and her hands cover her mouth. Gigi acted oblivious.

“What's up? Is there someone behind me or something?” She looked at her screen and patiently waited until Crystal composed herself - she was used to her staring anyway. When Crystal finally spoke, she was practically squealing out a string of compliments. Apparently, she loved it.

“Are you keeping it like that? Please say you’re keeping it like that, it's so hot” Gigi wasn’t sure if she would grow it out, but after Crystal had said that, it was an easy decision.

“I guess I’ll keep it then. Just for you”

Crystal loved being so open with Gigi, and she really appreciated how close they had gotten during lockdown - but she really just needed today off. She had woken up one morning with a feeling of dread that she couldn’t quite place, and a persistent headache. This was going to be a bad day, but she was used to bad days. She ignored Gigi’s calls and sent no follow up text. She could speak to Gigi later. Right now, she was just going to go back to sleep.

So that's what she did. She woke up in the late afternoon and finally dragged herself out of bed to make some food in the evening. When she got back to the safety of her bed, she was still tired. And she kind of felt like crying. So she cried. Sometimes, especially on bad days, Crystal’s mind could get the best of her, she had learned to just let herself get all her feelings out when she got like this - bottling them up had only ever made them worse. This was when Gigi called for the millionth time that day, her texts had become concerned, then angry, then concerned again. Crystal felt like she owed an explanation, so with bloodshot eyes and a puffy red face, Crystal finally picked up.

“Ugh finally! You haven’t spoken to me all day I- what’s wrong?” Crystal felt a ping of guilt at Gigi’s initial response to her answering. Had she really kept her waiting all day? It felt silly, like an unreasonable excuse, but deep down Crystal knew what was good for her. She also didn’t know how to answer Gigi’s question. She was starting to regret picking up, having Gigi see her like this - god, she must have looked a mess.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have picked up. I'm probably bringing the mood down” She saw Gigi’s features become impossibly softer at that.

“Hey, no, it's ok. We don’t have to talk about it, but we can if you want to. But you’re not hanging up. And neither am I. If it means I sit in complete silence with you for the next few hours then so be it”

This was when Crystal knew Gigi was a keeper. Whether whatever they had going on would continue, or whether they would return to strictly just friends, Gigi was someone she needed to keep in her life. They eventually started talking, first it was about how Gigi’s day went - Crystal didn’t feel like speaking much, but once she warmed up to seeing that all-familiar smile, she felt comfortable enough to start to open up. They talked for hours. Crystal cried. Gigi cried (though not as much).

“I just wish I could be there to help, or at least give you a hug or something, god this sucks” Crystal saw this as an opportunity to lighten the mood.

“As if you would settle for just a hug” Crystal winked pitifully and Gigi laughed, but didn’t disagree.

Of course one chat didn’t fix Crystal’s problems, but at least now she had someone in her corner - and that was half the battle.

It didn’t take the pair very long to fall back into their rhythm, feeling closer and more comfortable with each other, their feelings getting stronger as each day passed on. Crystal found herself falling back into the habit of sitting silent, and admiring the girl on her screen.

“You’re staring.” Gigi told her. Crystal hummened in agreement.

“You’re pretty”

It was normal for the pair to bounce words like pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous between them. It was as if they both knew exactly how the other felt - like it was completely unspoken and yet so obvious. And maybe it was.

Two months into lockdown, Gigi was really starting to miss physical contact - she was starting to feel a thrill when she made eye contact with strangers on her way to her weekly shop, she was getting desperate. It was brought up with Crystal.

“I just miss human contact. I want to hold a hand. I want someone to hug me. I want a kiss! Oh my god I miss kissing.” Crystal felt herself blushing at the mention of kissing (kissing Gigi, nonetheless). She would give anything to see Gigi right now, to be close to her.

“When this is over, I’ll kiss you, don’t even worry about it” Crystal was only half joking. GIgi went red, but tried to act as if the thought of Crystal kissing her didn’t phase her at all.

“Oh will you now?”

“I’m not kidding”

“Well. I’d very much like that Miss Methyd” Gigi gave in, she refused to play hard to get with someone who she had fallen so hard for. She just hoped Crystal would stick to her word.

Summer was halfway through when lockdown was lifted. The instant the announcement was made, Crystal phone pinged - it wasJan, and she suddenly felt a wave of deja vu from when the lockdown started.

JANtastic: GUYSSSSSS i’ve missed you so much PLEASE say y’all are free to meet? Like right now?!?!

JANtatsic: Jackie’s already with me so, she’s down too :))

CRYstal: i’ve missed you too !!! i’m free to meet!

goodegirl: me too !!

The group reunited within an hour, Crystal shed some happy tears, and Gigi laughed as she wiped them for her. It was nice to be with her, to be able to stand next to each other. But it also felt odd - like something had shifted now that they were right in front of each other. So for the rest of summer, the girls shared lingering glances and awkward smiles, too scared to make an official move.

#this took so long to write #hope u liked it #there will be a part 2 maybe !!!#pls dont let this flop #just two gays in l*ve #so fluffy #also i cant flirt so i cant write flirting #sorry bout it #can be read as w/w or m/m depending on how much u squint #gigi goode #crystal methyd #jackie cox #jan sport #just jan #gigi x crystal #jan x jackie #lesbian au

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horansqueen · 4 years

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You & Me : chapter 14

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.2k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: this is only a conversation between Liv and Niall. i hope its still good and nice to read? idk, you tell me?

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : i did get all your requests ppl and ill use many of them in the next chapter! the request i used in this chapter is one i got when i was writing AM Conversations but i knew id use it at some point!

Chapter 14 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

The need to kiss him was too strong, especially after what he had admitted. I knew he wanted me to some extent but even if I wanted it more than anything, I didn't really think he still loved me like that. His lips moved harshly against mine and I still felt like he was not close enough, even if he was holding my body against his.

"Real love." he repeated low, his lips brushing against mine as I kept my eyes close.

My fingers moved up to his hair and gripped it tight. When was the last time I could touch Niall this way? When was the last time I could really taste him and feel him? I thought about the day his hand moved up on my pants, the same night I kissed his lips when I thought he was asleep, and realized that every time he touched me, his fingers left a burning trace as they moved on me. It seemed to reach my skin even through my clothes and then turn me into a pile of ashes. The truth was, I felt like a fucking phoenix with him. He always burned me down and brought me back to life. How the fuck did he do that?

He bent down more at my touch, groaning low before pressing his lips against mine again, not wasting any time and deepening the kiss to let me taste him some more. I felt my whole body throb as his arms tightened around me, pressing me harder against him. I didn't want this kiss to end but after a while, a bunch of thoughts came to my mind and I pulled away. His eyes opened and they roamed on my face as my lips parted. We were both a panting mess and it was a bit pathetic to see, but I knew we both wanted more. I also knew we shouldn't do anything and I licked my lips, taking a step back but still keeping a small smile on my lips. As I moved, the grip of his arms loosened and I felt his fingertips brush on my waist, once again burning me. Fuck.

"Uhm I just, I need a drink."

Without waiting for his answer, I turned around and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking what was left of a bottle of wine I had started with Louis a few days before, bringing two glasses and going to the living room. He had walked down the hall and was now standing near my couch, his hands in his pockets. I sat on the couch and poured wine in both glasses, pushing one gently on the coffee table and looking up at him, licking my lips.

"Thirsty?" I just asked, raising my eyebrows.

He seemed to hesitate but he ended up sitting next to me and taking the glass, looking down at the pale beverage. I wanted to make a cheesy toast but instead, I took a sip and I noticed he looked up at me from the corner of my eyes, making me swallow the whole glass quickly. I put my now empty glass back on the table and he chuckled, looking at it.

"Do you think it's a good idea to get drunk two days in a row?"

"I don't know if it's a good idea, all I know is that i'm doing it."

He chuckled again and grabbed the bottle, pouring me more wine before I thanked him. I stared at him as he drank in silence and tilted my head. He was so fucking gorgeous, I just wanted to-

"I know you want to ask me something, go ahead."

I blinked a few times, focusing on his words instead of his perfect face, and cleared my throat. Oh yea, I had a million questions to ask, but where the fuck should I even start?

"Why didn't you ever call me or tried to get in contact with me? Why didn't you ever just... try to get me back?"

He sighed and nodded a few times, leaning against the couch and staring down at his glass as he made it twist gently with his fingers. I brought my legs up on the couch and turned my body to face him but remained at a fair distance. I've always loved how he'd sit on the couch with his legs spread.

"I'm not gonna try to find excuses, Olivia, but I can tell you what went on in my head." he just said with a shrug. "Maybe it won't be good enough for you, maybe it makes no sense, but it's still that."

He looked up and his eyes met mine. I just nodded slowly and pressed my lips together. It was okay if it didn't make sense. It was okay with me, even if his reasons wouldn't make me feel better. I wanted to know if only to stop questioning it.

"At first I just wanted to have fun. I missed you, but you were right, I wanted my freedom more than anything else. It's all I cared about. But it passed quickly and I started asking about you. Everyone told me to fuck off. Everyone wanted me to leave you alone and deep down, I felt like they were right to ask me that. I had to do some introspection, I couldn't just go back to you and do the same fucking mistakes again. So I wrote, instead. I wrote songs. So many of them."

I licked my lips and took a sip of my wine, frowning slightly.

"Are you ever going to sing them to me?"

"What?" he asked with a frown.

"I'd just.. i'd love to hear them."

He stared at me for a few more seconds still frowning before his face changed and his lips parted. He put his glass away and moved closer, his eyes roaming on my face again. I thought he was going to kiss me but instead, he shook his head slightly.

"You can hear some of them whenever you want." he pointed out low. "On my album, you know? You listened to it, didn't you?"

"You..." I frowned too, feeling my heartbeats accelerate quickly. "Which songs are about me?"

Once again, he seemed in shock and frowned, shaking his head a bit harder.

"Almost all of them! Olivia who the fuck did you think my album was about?"

I could read panic in his eyes and I swallowed hard. I had wished at least one of his songs was about me but the way he pretended it was obvious made no sense to me.

"Heidi?"

The grimace his face twisted into surprised me and he shook his head again, moving slightly away from me. He rubbed his eyes before placing his hand on his mouth. I kept staring at him as a flood of feelings appeared on his face.

"You two dated and broke up like 3 times in the past year, didn't you?" I tried to explain, moving a bit closer to him. "I mean you always got back with her, clearly you love her, and you... I mean, it says you don't want the other person to leave but... you're the one who left me. You talk about brown eyes! Niall, how the hell did you expect me to think these songs were about me?"

This time, he bent his upper body down on his thighs, pressing his palms on his face and somehow, I wished I could read his thoughts.

"This is just a freaking color, Liv!" he pointed out. "As for the leaving part... I felt you leave, even when we were still together. I felt like you wanted out of this relationship, like you were unhappy with me. You were always so stressed that I was thinking about an other girl and, I know I made things worse and clearly didn't help. I was not patient or understanding with you and I fucked things up. But this album? It's about you. It's yours."

I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted him to climb on top of me and kiss me until I couldn't breathe. I wanted to feel the weight of his body over mine, trapping me to keep me with him forever but instead, I felt myself tear up and remained motionless.

"You honestly think I could write about anyone else than you?" he added in a softer tone. "That song you caught me singing the other night? It's about you. When I saw you for the first time in over a year at the bakery, I came home and wrote an other song. About you. It's always about you."

He sighed as he looked away from me, grabbing his glass and emptying it.

"We need more alcohol."

He got up and came back with an other bottle as we started drinking fast. It was even more obvious to me at that moment that I needed to be very very drunk. I had so many things to tell him, so many things to hear from him, and I had no idea how I'd manage all of this if I was sober.

"Even 'On My Own'" I finally asked as I took an other sip of my drink.

"What?"

"You said all your songs were about me."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Not all of them, some are concept songs, but On My Own is sort of about you, yea."

I raised my eyebrows at him and he laughed, his eyes sparkling probably because of how intoxicated he was becoming.

"Really!" he insisted. "Everyone around me was dating and shit, but I didn't want to date anyone unless it was you. I do prefer to be alone but you and me, we complete each other, don't we?"

I blinked a few times and my fond smile turned into an amused one.

"You're so full of shit!"

We both started laughing and I threw a cushion at him. He grabbed it and put it behind his back as I tilted my head on the side.

"I went to therapy." I admitted, making his smile disappear. "No, not because of you. Mostly because of me. Because I couldn't accept to be without you, and because it was time I stopped hating myself for things out of my control. My insecurities were ruining my life. They had ruined our relationship, I didn’t want to see that happen again."

He frowned a bit and looked down before looking up in my eyes. He suddenly seemed sad and I wondered if maybe I should have kept this for myself. I used to tell Niall everything but it was a long time ago, maybe it wouldn't work like that between us anymore.

"You didn't ruin anything. Your insecurities didn't ruin what we had. I did. I ruined that relationship. I should have been patient with you, I should have stopped flirting, I should have been clear with girls around that I was taken. I did a bunch of stupid stuff and i'm so sorry I made you feel like shit."

I nodded slowly, blinking a few times and realizing I was getting past the tipsy stage. The more I was drinking, the more I wanted him to make love to me, and something stirred in my stomach, bringing me near tears.

"I thought you replaced me." I whispered, frowning and looking down. "I thought Heidi took a place I felt was mine. Your best friend, your girlfriend, your... i don't know, your soulmate, maybe."

"When you left on that night, Liv... I said you would always be the love of my life. This is still the truth. I haven't changed my mind."

I sniffed and licked my lips, putting a small smile back on my lips. I wanted this to be fun. I didn't want to end up in tears again.

"Okay, let's just, throw truths at each other." I proposed making him roll his eyes. "Should be easy, we're both quite drunk. I can start if you want."

He squirmed on the couch to face me, a big smile gracing his lips.

"No it's my turn, uhm." he looked up as if he was searching for something good and his eyes finally met mine again. "I followed your tv show. Checked the blog every single day to see if there was something new. I love watching you act. I love watching your face."

"I google you every night. For over a year. Louis hated it but he allowed me about ten minutes every night. I didn't tell him but sometimes I just went to bed and googled you again on my phone. I kept googling you when I started dating Dylan, too. I even googled you last night. I guess It's an habit now."

His lips curled in some sort of victory smile and I rolled my eyes. I knew he liked it and I couldn't blame him. I liked that he cared about me enough to watch my show even if it was really amateur and even if we didn't talk to each other anymore.

"I dreamed of you a lot. In fact, I dreamed of you the night before we saw each other at the bakery." he admitted with a nervous chuckle. "I'd say it was fate if I didn't actually dream about you at least once a week."

"And what do we do in those dreams?" I asked with a smirk.

"Sometimes we just talk, sometimes we fight. Other times... you don't want to know!" he let out with a laugh.

I smiled more, not telling him that I really wanted to know, and finally breathed in. It felt so good to be with him alone, I couldn't explain how happy it made me.

"I found the card in your wallet."

I thought he would frown or at least take a few seconds to understand what I was saying but his face immediately changed and he sighed, closing his eyes.

"Fuck, I thought I lost it." his face changed into a suspicious expression. "Wait, why were you checking my wallet and why did you keep it?"

I laughed a bit. "It was that time you told me to get money in your wallet to pay for the pizza." I explained, making him nod as he remembered. "I saw that and, I don't know. To be honest, I didn't think you'd notice. I thought you had probably put that in your wallet a long time ago and just forgot to take it out."

He shook his head and the left corner of his lips raised sadly. "I kept that picture of us with the card in the frame... kept it on my night stand for months."

"Must have been awkward when you brought girls back home!" I joked with a laugh.

But he didn't laugh. He just looked up at me and my smile fell.

"I didn't bring girls home." he explained. "Hotels, okay. Sometimes their place. But in my house? No."

I didn't know why but it reassured me, somehow, and made me feel better to know he didn't bring random girls to fuck in the bed where we made love. It was not much when you really thought about it, but to me, it felt important.

"I put that picture away when Heidi told me to. I felt like it was a bit unfair for her to see that, I had to admit. I still have it in my stuff, and I couldn't throw the card away so i put it in my wallet."

I sighed and sent him a small smile before letting myself slide down the couch only to lay down on the carpet. I was drunk and a bit dizzy but I knew that all the feelings inside of me were real. There was no doubt for me. Absolutely none.

It took him a few seconds but he ended up laying down next to me, his head next to mine but his feet and body in the opposite direction. I turned my head to look at him and he did the same, a big smirk on his lips. It made me laugh and I pressed my lips together.

"I was sad when I realized I didn't bring that frame." I confessed very low, knowing he could hear me anyway. Our lips were so close I felt like we could kiss again. I felt like we should kiss again.

"I was glad you forgot it. Because I knew it wasn't on purpose. But selfishly, I wanted to keep it, even if it was a gift for you."

I didn't want to mention it, but I was glad he kept it if only to know that he kept it for months and then put the card in his wallet. That was worth not being able to keep it when I left. I brought my hand and with difficulty, I reached for his cheek, making him chuckle. I brushed my fingers on his cheek and sent him a fond smile.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?" I murmured again.

"A few times." he smiled more. "Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

This time, I laughed and nodded. "A few times."

We remained silent for a few minutes, just staring at each other, as my heart thumped in my chest. Why was it always so easy with him? Why did I always want to spend all my time with him alone?

"Liv, if there is anything you want to ask me, or tell me... I promise I'll be honest with you." he proposed after a while. "I want to be transparent with you. Always."

My eyes fell on his lips as he talked and all I could think about was that I was so close to kiss him again that I really needed to do something to stop me from going further.

"Did you have sex with that radio girl?" I asked, licking my lips and holding my breath. "And what about that girl who sent you a nude while we were camping?"

His face changed but he didn't look away. He was evaluating how much damage his answer could make and I felt myself tear up. I could read him so easily, even after all this time, and I didn't know how it made me feel.

"Is it really important?" he asked in a soft voice, making me raise my eyebrows. He sighed and closed his eyes. "The radio girl, no I didn't. I did sleep with Gia though."

I was waiting for him to explain himself, or say it meant nothing, but he didn't and I swallowed hard. He had the right to have sex with anyone he wanted. After all, I had sex a few times with one of his best friends, so I couldn't really say anything about it. Did it hurt me? Yes, it did. Because I remembered exactly what that girl's body was like, and thinking about his naked form over hers made me a bit nauseous, but at the same time, it was in the past and it had nothing to do with me.

"Why are you dating her?"

He raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised by my question. "Heidi?"

I nodded. "I know you think she's hot but it's not a reason to date someone." I pointed out with a grimace. "To fuck someone, yea, but not to date them."

"I don't know." he shrugged, a bit taken aback. "She's fun. We had fun."

"You have fun with everyone, Niall." I explained, rolling my eyes.

"What do you mean?"

The way he was frowning was adorable and my lips curled again. "You talk about everyone and call them your best friend, you say that everyone is super funny." I paused and raised my eyebrows again. "Have you ever thought that maybe you're the 'fun' one? Maybe you're the fun person and that's why you have fun with everyone."

It took a few seconds but his lips curled into an amused smile and he laughed, shaking his head.

"You're really something else."

"I just don't get why her. Maya, I get it, but Heidi? Really?"

"You liked Maya, uh?"

I didn't know if I really liked Maya but one thing I knew was that she didn't give me a bad vibe the way Heidi did and that she was gorgeous. No, I wouldn't say I liked Maya, but I understood why someone would want to date her.

"She hated you." he professed with an other chuckle. "She was so jealous of you, she wouldn't shut up about it!"

I felt my heart jump in my chest, a bit shocked that someone, especially someone like Maya, could be jealous of someone like she. She had everything and yet, she felt threatened by an average girl like me? Laughable. It reminded me that during the game, the night before, he had admitted to dialing one of his ex while being drunk and suddenly, I was sure he was talking about Maya and I swallowed.

"Which ex did you drunk dialed?" I asked as he frowned. "Yesterday, at the bar, during the game... you said a lot of things that I wanted to ask about."

"It was you." he laughed, closing his eyes in an embarrassed way and rubbing them. "But when I called it said you changed your number or something. One time I think I left a long drunk voice message to someone that was not you, too."

I chuckled and started nibbling on my bottom lip. This was not the answer I expected but fuck, I loved it.

"I wish I had heard it." I admitted, not knowing how I actually would have reacted.

"I can't believe you sent nudes to Harry but you never sent me any. Why?" he asked, amused.

"Because you never asked, and also, you never sent me any either."

"I don't send nudes." he just replied quickly.

"You should. To me."

His eyes dropped to my lips again and I smiled. I turned my whole body on the side and he did the same. Our faces were now so close I could feel his breath hit gently my forehead.

"Maybe I will."

I chuckled and licked my lips but as we kept staring at each other, I realized how deep the connection we had actually was. I realized how tough it was to stay away from each other and how crazy it seemed to even try.

"What we feel for each other." I started low. "It's visceral."

He nodded slowly. "You and me... we make so much sense, don't you think?"

I lost my smile and nodded slowly. It did. Nothing made more sense than that. I squirmed a bit on the carpet to get closer and brushed my lips against his. The fact that our faces were upside down made it slightly more exciting and when he slipped his tongue in my mouth, I felt my inner thighs start throbbing so hard that I knew I could cum in less than five seconds.

The kiss was slow and sloppy but it was so good I shut my eyes tight, making sure no other part of my body actually moved. I ended up squeezing his tongue with my lips and sucking gently on it, if only to taste him longer. It made him groan and I stopped, freeing his tongue as my lips curled. I was delighted to know I still had some sort of effect on him.

"Pet, don't do that, you're making yourself impossible to resist."

I knew we couldn't do anything and I didn't intend to. I wanted it, I couldn't pretend otherwise, but It was wrong and we both knew it.

"Do you want to sleep here?" I asked as he nodded. "In my bed?" He nodded again. "Are you gonna spoon me?"

"You know I will."

We both got up, almost tripping because of all the alcohol in our bodies, and we started laughing before walking (or more zigzagging) in the hall, dropping random pieces of clothing on our way. We ended up in my bed, under the covers with the lights off, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed on mine. I was wearing his shirt again and had kept my panties while he was just wearing boxers. I loved the feeling of his thighs pressed on mine more than I could explain. It burned and at the same time, it made my whole body vibrate. I was close to fall asleep when I heard his voice, making my eyes flutter open again.

"You didn't tell me."

I frowned and reached for his arm that was around my waist, running my fingertips on it gently.

"Tell you what?"

"I told you how much I loved you, but you didn't tell me how you feel."

My heart jumped in my chest and I remained quiet for a few seconds before squirming as I tried to turn my body around. I had to sit up for a few seconds to untwist my shirt and finally lied back down, facing him. His hair was a mess and I was desperate to slip my fingers in it again.

"I'm in love with you, Niall." I let out, staring in his eyes. "I've always been. You're my soulmate. I love you."

"Real love?" he asked, raising his eyebrows, a small smile playing on his lips as one also appeared on mine.

"Real love."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan writing #niall horan story #my fanfics #yam #im super nervous about this

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riceccakes · 3 years

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Earth, Wind, and Coffee: Chapter Three Analysis

chapter one analysis | chapter two analysis

back again for another chapter analysis. i think ive been looking forward to this chapter the most, it’s where some big decisions were made!!! this analysis is a long one, i hope that’s all right! i kinda got carried away. so, let’s dive right in, shall we?

some fun stuff before we start!

chapter three was supposed to be the last chapter of the fic

idk if any of you were there when i first started writing this fic, but it was only going to be three chapters with a possible epilogue. however, everything changed when i finished the end of chapter two. (lil atla reference there for ya) (sorry i know that was bad, moving on). like i said in my last analysis, i had an idea of what i wanted to happen (the separation of korrasami) so that they could come back together. it was just a matter of what separates them. so, i’m not sure where i got the panic attack idea but once i did, the rest of the story changed. i realized i couldn’t quite possibly finish the story in one chapter so i split the ideas i had and decided on it being four chapters

now, this being said, maaaaajor changes were made in my story outline. most notably: korrasami was going to be a couple in this chapter

this was originally going to be a full fledged “they meet, they get to know each other, they fall in love, happily every after” but the thing was, i planned on treating their romance as korra’s recovery; that being with asami is what made korra better, that all she needed was a partner, someone to love, and that is not what i wanted to portray with this story. i’ve never been a fan of stories that give a character a love interest and all of sudden their problems are fixed and they’re completely happy, and here i was about to do just that. i knew i’d never respect myself if i continued down this narrative, and when chapter two ended with korra’s panic attack, i realized her growth needed better love and attention. so, i changed what happened and gave her some therapy

this change in the storyline also let me explore more of kuvopal !!! (is that their ship name?)

so, back to LOVE WITCH for a second (because that glorious fic really did steal my heart) not only did it make me love kuvira’s character more, it also got me into the kuvopal relationship! and yet again, i wanted my own go at it. with the original timeline, there was just no space for me to include the lil bread crumbs of their relationship. however, however, however; by splitting the ending between two chapters (and adding some stuff in between) i was able to lay some foundation for them, which im very happy about :)

into the chapter we go:

let’s talk about the meeting! the whole reason this fic came to be! i’ll start by saying i always knew the project was going to get pulled out from under asami. 1) because thats some angsty/hurt shit right there and im a sucker for writing angst 2) i didn’t feel like creating a whole ass presentation because knowing my ass i would’ve made a powerpoint about it so i had every detail down to the font asami used and 3) getting the presentation taken away from asami was a pivotal point in her character arc.

i actually started the chapter in two different ways. at first, i’d written her whole entire morning with there always being one thing that was off. like, instead of a perfect omelette, it was going to split and asami would’ve had a scramble, still good, but not her favorite. instead of going through all green lights on her way to work, asami was gonna meet every. single. red. light. i would’ve gone through with this if it hadn’t felt strange; i wanted to give the impression that something bad was going to happen but i felt like having something go wrong with every thing in her morning was gonna be a dead give away that some even bigger big bad was about to happen, if that makes sense. so instead, i went with the picture perfect scenario, almost too perfect, if you ask me. and indeed, it was too perfect, because hiroshi was too much of a coward to tell his daughter any sooner that his board agreed to get a new presenter

im just gonna cite a bunch of my favorite lines/bits from this chapter because i really enjoyed writing it xD

Iroh has already begun but Asami hears no words, only a blaring ring in her ears. Her face feels hot and she wonders how red she is. She stares at the black binder, notes the natural grooves and curves of the material, the plastic covering over top of it, the metal spine peaking out at the bottom. She’s only brought out of it’s dark trance when she feels a hand be placed on her arm; Kuvira.

when you’re upset, do you ever just, hyper focus on one thing and its like you’re analyzing it under a microscope for the first time? yes? no? well, i do that, and personally, i do because if i focus on my anger/hurt emotions any more, im going to explode and i dont want to explode. so, this instance about looking at the grooves in the binder and each of the components of it just hits with me, idk if does with you too, but like bruuh.

Asami has her hand over her mouth, silently sobbing, feeling as if she’ll throw up. She leans her head on her wheel, her mind wanders to what could’ve been, what should’ve been. She feels as if her car is closing in on her, that the metal is compacting. The seatbelt keeps her locked down to the driver’s seat and she can’t leave if she wants to. The Satomobile holds her hostage and she lets it. Even while it’s hurting her, even while it’s harshly molding itself onto her, she stays at her father’s heel because, what else is she to do?

this is one of my favorite things ive ever done with asami’s character, is using future industries/satomobiles as a sort of vehicle (heh) for her relationship with her dad. this paragraph just kind of hurts, but the good hurt? but also not good hurt? it’s just, (and not me over here boasting about my writing or anything) it’s so poetic that she has this breakdown and she’s so upset with her dad, i mean “what should’ve been” like, asami KNOWS that the shit that’s just happened is more than wrong, yet asami is still somehow wondering how she can please her dad and it’s in the literal legacy hiroshi built for himself. “she stays at her father’s heel because, what else is she to do?” i remember writing that and being like “shit, am i really gonna do this? yeah” ugh, i could go on forever about how i love this section, but i’ll stop here for now.

Asami begins yelling, screaming at the top of her lungs, letting all the thoughts, all the insecurities her father gave her finally be released into the world. Kuvira lets her, simply nodding and following along on the couch while Asami paces her living room. She spews out word after word, about the work, about the presentation, about Iroh, his position, her position, the company, the CEO, and she only stops when she feels the weight of her father rest on her shoulders.

back with more diction; i really love this paragraph because of how we circle back to hiroshi. note how i first say “the CEO” and then a few words later say “her father” because, in a way, this is asami’s confession that hiroshi is CEO first and father second, if i haven’t already explicitly said so. it’s so heart wrenching and sad but my favorite thing about it is this isn’t even about korra. like THIS right here is a prime example about how i realized this fic became more than just a love story. in the planning stages of this fic, asami was going to go through getting the presentation taken away from her, but what was she going to focus more on? the fact that korra wasn’t around anymore. and yes, asami still does think about korra after this, but so much more happens for her. asami gets to know kuvira more, asami gets to know her lab partners more, (and my personal hc is that they’ve all been lab partners for two years and only NOW asami is getting to be friends with them in their senior year, but hey, better late than never!) and to me, what’s even better, is that a bunch of realizations come to asami w/o korra being there. asami is growing and the idea of being able to grow without needing to have a partner in order to grow is so important to me, not only for the fact that growth should be endless and something you do all the time for yourself, but asami literally wants to share it with korra. not boast about changing and growing and becoming better, but just be better with korra. sdlfakds i swear, im fangirling over my own writing, oops

okay, moving on from The Meeting and onto the rest of the chapter

this dock scene was also another part i wrote beforehand and it had a completely different ending in that asami was going to ask korra out on a date. of course, korra would’ve said yes, and then yay yay happy ending. this didn’t happen and i’m glad it didn’t. in one version of this dock scene, asami was actually going to be upset with korra for disappearing, and even worse, mad that korra wasn’t there to comfort her after the presentation. oof, i know. so so glad i didn’t continue down that line, cause it is toxic, and my girls aren’t like that at all.

Once Korra’s eyes meet hers, Asami says, “That doesn’t mean you always have to be on your own.” She smiles at Korra, at the girl who’s turned her world upside down. Her hand remains on Korra’s cheek and she feels the girl sink into her palm. “I’ll be here for you, and it seems like Tenzin will be too, what with saying he was calling you more. And you have his family, and your own family, even though they’re away, they’re here to support you, we all are. You can still be strong and turn to other people for help. It takes great strength to ask for help and I know for a fact you’re strong enough, those bags of coffee beans were nothing for you.”

i like this line of dialogue here for a few reasons, mostly because asami is so soft and so right and the joke at the really helped lighten the mood but didn’t take away from what she’d just said before. i don’t have too much else about the Reunions section, though if you guys have any questions or anything you wanna point out, please do so! i think what i will say is that i tried to be as real and gentle with korra’s progression. i was so nitpicky about everything i wrote because i didn’t want to get any of it wrong or over dramatized or fake. recovery from anything is so important and it takes time and it’s not a straight line so i hope i did a good job with it the rest of the fic.

moving on, i love the found family trope and this leads me into the next section, New Friends

when i think about this section, i like how soft it is, and i really enjoy the ending bits: korra recounting memories from the south, asami meeting tenzin. i think what i like about the end of this chapter is that, it kind of leaves the question: what’s next?

asami has grown, she’s changed, she sees the errors of her father’s ways but she’s not excusing them. korra has grown, she’s changing, she’s taken the first step in recovery. now it’s just a matter of, what happens with this growth now. and i really loved how i wrapped up the fic in the next and last chapter, so i hope you enjoy it too :))

honorable mentions:

there were a lot of changes in this chapter and one of them got changed twice! korra was gonna get a therapist but then i was like, we gotta get the krew together, and then i was like supppppoorttttt grouuuppppp, because lets be honest, all the krew has stuff they need to work through, and i know therapy isn’t for everyone, but mental health is so vital and important. asami is an advocate for therapy in the chapter but there are also other means to take care of yourself and your mental health and while i’ve never been to a support group, i understand finding comfort in knowing you’re not alone.

i guess what i’m trying to say is please take care of yourself and dont be afraid to lean on others. i know not everyone has the means to get a therapist/psychiatrist and i know that your friends aren’t made to only be your therapist. buuuut, don’t be afraid to reach out, there’s nothing wrong with needing help and support :)

anything i would’ve wanted to change?

honestly, i think the only thing i would’ve wanted to change was mako’s speech during the support group meeting. for me, it was a lil bit too poetically out of character. not to say i want to change the content, but rather the manner in which it’s presented. other than that though, i really loved writing this chapter :)

so this analysis was reeeaaaalllly long, i understand if not everyone made it to end. anyways, thanks so much for reading this analysis and the fic! once again, i’m very much open to questions and any comments, i love them very much! i’ll see you guys in the next analysis of the final chapter :)

#ricewrites #earth wind and coffee #coffee shop au #chapter analysis #writing analysis #korrasami #korrasami fic #korra #asami sato #lok

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