#we both kind of shakily remembered how to interact with the world in the first few sessions but theyre kind of...growing into their
Text
Reflection//F.W.
Pairings: Fred Weasley x Reader
Warnings: Implied eating disorder, implied body dysmorphia, body insecurities, insecurities in general, mentions of food/drink, language, angst, fluff, sad and insecure Freddie :(
Summary: Fred can’t even look at his reflection without feeling bad about himself and thinking about how you deserve so much more than anything he has to offer.
Word Count: 4.5k
A/N: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. No matter who you are or what you look like, you are absolutely beautiful. If you or if you know anyone who suffers from body dysmorphia (specifically men because it’s not talked about enough), please reach out to someone and learn more. My messages are always open!
Arthur Weasley. Molly Weasley. Bill Weasley. Charlie Weasley. Percy Weasley. Fred and George Weasley. Ron Weasley. Ginny Weasley. The Weasley family. While all connected by their Gryffindor house and flaming red hair, each member of the family was unique in their own sense.
Arthur and Molly were the parents. Arthur’s fascination with Muggles as a Pureblood and Molly’s blunt but loving motherly nature were what set them apart.
Bill was the oldest, the golden child. He was loved at Hogwarts and became a successful curse breaker. No one ever had problems with the wonder that was Bill Weasley.
Charlie forged his own path. The great Hogwarts Quidditch star who likely could have gone professional, had he not found his passion in dragons and made a new life for himself in Romania.
Percy. Perfect prefect Percy, the one who would grow up to be the Minister of Magic, at least that's what everyone thought. He had every aspect of his life perfectly planned out down to the last detail, and oh how Molly loved her rule-abiding son, never a troublemaker.
Ron had a more difficult time making a name for himself. The youngest brother in the family and yet not quite the baby. However, his friendship with Harry Potter and their knack for getting themselves into trouble every year made Ronald Weasley a known name around Hogwarts.
Ginny was the only girl, which made her unique already. Not only that, but she was fantastic at Quidditch, had the heart of a true Gryffindor Lion, and was overall a kind, vivacious, adventurous soul.
Each Weasley had one thing that set them apart. Everyone, that is, except the duo that could never be separated.
Fred and George Weasley. Not Fred Weasley and George Weasley. Fred and George. As if they were one person, joined at the hip with the same ideas, the same personalities, and the same feelings. No matter how hard they tried when they were younger, everyone always came back to calling them Fred and George. Even their own mother often got them mixed up, and showed no care in doing so. As long as it was one of the twins she was alright
.
Once their years at Hogwarts started, the two boys decided to stop fighting the inevitable, and thus began their reign as “Fred and George Weasley, Prank Master Extraordinaires.” They were always together. They were both Quidditch beaters. They pulled some of the finest pranks Hogwarts had ever seen together. They sat next to each other in all of their classes and would sometimes switch seats or call each other the wrong name to see if anyone else would notice. They never did.
“Freddie, you coming?” you asked your boyfriend, jumping up onto his back. It was Hogsmeade weekend, which meant the tradition of you and your friends raiding Honeydukes, Zonkos, and finishing out at The Three Broomsticks was minutes away from happening once again. Fred laughed and spun around, quickly getting dizzy and pulling you both down into the Gryffindor couch.
You rolled on top of him and pulled his chin in for a quick kiss, limbs awkwardly tangled in each other as you shared a sweet moment with the ginger you’d been dating for the last 3 months.
“Ugh my eyes!” George stood behind the couch, hands covering his face in order to shield his view from the innocent scene in front of him.
“Oh shut up George,” you said. “You’re just jealous.”
Fred smirked at his slightly younger brother and pulled you down into a deeper kiss. “Yeah, jealous,” he mumbled against your lips, which resulted in George physically separating your faces with his hands.
“You two disgust me,” he scoffed. “Are you guys ready?”
Fred struggled against his brother’s hand for a second trying to recapture your lips once again, but he eventually gave up once you caved and pulled away.
“I’m all set, has everyone else already left?” The rest of your small friend group consisted of Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet, who you had been close with since your first year. The three boys would run off and pull horrendous pranks while you, Angelina, and Alicia would roll your eyes, secretly coming up with new ideas for jokes to pull on Filch.
George jumped over the couch and hoisted you up by your arms, his strength making you fly through the air for a few seconds before you landed shakily on the warm rugs decorating the floor.
“Yep,” replied your friend. “They said they’d meet us in the Courtyard and we can go from there. If I remember correctly it’s your turn to buy butterbeers.”
You groaned and threw your hands to your pocket, making sure you had the money. “I thought you would’ve forgotten about that.”
George wrapped his arm around your shoulder and gave you a brotherly squeeze. “Never, love. Let’s get going.”
Giggling, you walked in step with your best friend and wrapped an arm around his waist. You turned your head and put out your other arm, gesturing for Fred to come join you.
“C’mon, Fred, what’re you waiting for?”
Fred wasn’t waiting for anything. In fact, the longer he saw you interact with George, the less he wanted to spend the day watching it continue to happen. He didn’t look at you and instead just fiddled with his sweater, the one you had stolen from him so many times until he finally took it back to appreciate how it now smelled like you.
“I’m not feeling too well today, you guys can just go.”
You pouted and fully turned to face your boyfriend. “You were fine just a second ago, do you want me to stay with you?”
He could tell you were about to walk back over and crawl into his lap, but he really needed to be alone. “I’m ok love, just not feeling it today. Bring me back something from Honeydukes though, will ya?”
You gave him a small smile and nodded, wondering if there was anything else you could do to help.
“Don’t worry Y/N,” said George, “I can take care of you. We’ll have a blast!”
“I can take care of myself, Georgie,” you said. Fred winced at the nickname. “But I thank you kindly for the offer.” You bowed sarcastically and began to howl with laughter as George tickled your sides and threw you over his shoulder. “See you later Fred, don’t have too much fun without me!”
He looked up at the last second, only catching a glimpse of your face contorted with giggles as his twin carried you through the halls of the castle.
Fred sighed and got up from the couch, sulking as he made his way to his now empty dorm room. He lied down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, imagination and worries running wild. What were you and George doing right now? Was he still holding onto you, laughing as he clutched your perfect body in his arms? Fred’s jaw clenched, thinking about his brother holding you, kissing you like he did. Because what was the difference between him and his brother? Why would you care if it was George that was touching you instead of Fred. They were the same. To everyone in the world, they were just the mirror images of each other. Just a stupid, unoriginal reflection.
He felt a few hot tears well up, so he turned onto his side and curled up, letting sleep take over and wash his troubles away.
------------------------------
“Alright George, put me down, you’ve had your fun.” The Weasley boy pretended to drop you, only making you clutch his shoulder harder.
“Oh I see,” George said smirking, “now you don’t want me to put you down, huh?”
“Sod off, loser.” You wiggled out of his loosening grasp and elbowed his side. George had decided to carry you not only out of Hogwarts, but also almost the entire way to Hogsmeade itself. An act quite impressive, but the beater was known for his renowned upper body strength.
Angelina came up and grabbed your arm, slowing you down so you would fall away from the rest of the group. “Not trying to steal my love, are you Y/N?” she asked, trying to glare at you but breaking quickly and smiling in the end.
“I don’t know Angie,” you teased, “if you don’t make a move soon maybe I’ll have to take both twins. Paris does sound very nice this time of year.”
She rolled her eyes and gave you a soft shove. “The annoying part is that you could probably pull both of them too. I see the way George looks at you.”
Your best friend, usually so confident and collected, was now very shy and insecure about her love for the younger of the Weasley twins. You and George had no feelings for each other. Both of you knew that and she of course knew that. But sometimes dumb thoughts plagued people’s minds.
“Angie, wanna know a secret?” you asked.
She looked up and nodded slowly.
“The reason George and I’ve been hanging out recently is because he keeps asking me about you. ‘What’s Angie’s favorite food?’ ‘What does she like to do when she’s not kicking ass on the Quidditch pitch?’ blah blah blah.”
Angelina laughed at your horrible impersonation of George’s voice. “You know he’s like a brother to me. I mean, if things between me and Fred keep going how they are then maybe one day he’ll be my actual brother.”
She nodded gratefully and sighed a breath of relief. “I know, I know. It’s just a little weird for me that you two are so close. I feel like I’m third wheeling whenever you guys are there, and you aren’t even the ones dating!”
“That’s just how George is. He’s so sweet, so he’s always there to cheer me up. But you have to trust me, there is not and will not ever be something between me and him. No offence to George, but that’s gross.”
“You’re dating his twin brother! How is that gross?”
“You of all people know that they’re not the same. I prefer my men cocky, arrogant, and pretty,” you quipped, calling Fred out.
“And I prefer mine sweet, compassionate, and handsome, but it looks like George has got a long way to go before he can earn that title.”
Angelina was referring to the scene in front of you, where the man in question was currently shoving Lee’s face into the snow-covered ground.
“Maybe we both need better taste in men,” you said, running with Angelina to tackle George and save your dear friend.
------------------------------
It was 2 weeks later, and Fred was once again missing out on a trip to Hogsmeade. Gryffindor had just played Slytherin in the game of the year, a close match that had the entire school screaming and on the edge of their seats.
“And there Malfoy and Potter go, racing into the sky with their eyes on the snitch,” Lee Jordan shouted into the microphone. “The current score is Gryffindor with 130 points and Slytherin with 110. It all comes down to who can catch this flying bugger.”
A loud crack resounded across the pitch as George sent a bludger straight toward Malfoy, hitting his broom and almost knocking him off.
“Amazing hit by Number 6, beater George Weasley. This could be the end of the game folks, this could be it. Oh! Malfoy’s back on his broom and racing to catch up to Potter. Weasley gave the young Gryffindor seeker a great head start, and it looks like he might have it!”
“Fred!” Angelina cried. Fred looked to where she was gesturing and saw the bludger coming straight toward him. This was his shot. He had a clear path to hit Malfoy, securing the win for Gryffindor.
You were in the crowd, screaming at the top of your lungs. He didn’t want to disappoint you, or the team, or his house. He didn’t want to disappoint people anymore.
“Number 5 Fred Weasley winds up to hit a bludger, he’s got a clean shot toward Malfoy! If he can get this hit it’s game over and victory for Gryffindor!”
With all of his strength he sent the bludger flying, but apparently his aim hadn’t improved with the extra practice he had been doing.
Lee continued to comment on the disaster that was about to happen. “One strong hit to the bludger, but it looks like it’s going in the wrong direction. Oh no! Instead of hitting Malfoy the bludger just hit Potter, sending him and his broom spiraling out of control! Malfoy has taken this opportunity to catch up to the snitch and...and...he’s got it. Malfoy catches the snitch, making the final score 260 for Slytherin to 130 for Gryffindor. A well played match by everyone.”
Except it wasn’t a well played match for Fred. He had let everyone down, again. He was used to it from his parents and older siblings, even most of his teachers. But he had never let down his house before. He had never let down his team.
Fred locked himself away in his room, refusing to talk to anyone. He pulled off his Quidditch robes and shirt and stared at his reflection in the wall length mirror hanging in his dorm room.
He stared at his body, something many girls would comment on and swoon over. He was Fred Weasley, star Quidditch player and resident hottie at Hogwarts. Except he wasn’t anymore.
The definition of his abs weren’t strong enough. He was gaining too much fat, eating too much food. He wasn’t working out enough, that was it. If he would've worked out more then he would’ve made the shot during the game.
Fred wasn’t as ripped as George, he knew that for a fact. Living in the same room for their entire lives, Fred knew how strong his brother was, how defined his biceps were and how he could lift you with absolutely no problem. Fred knew that George was the better beater. It was just statistics. He made the most hits, had the best aim, and won the team the most points.
The only thing Fred was better at was making jokes, but he knew no one liked them. His friends must’ve laughed out of pity. There was no way anyone could not find him annoying, especially with how cocky and overconfident he came across. They just tolerated him because of George. You just loved him because you saw him as another George. You should be with George.
Fred stared into the reflection of himself in the mirror, the one that looked equal parts like him and his twin brother. He groaned as he bent down to the floor, quickly starting another repetition of countless pushups until he would pass out from exhaustion.
------------------------------
Fred had stuck to his cycle. Wake up, eat (but not much), go on a run across the castle grounds, go to class, work out for 2 hours, eat dinner (but once again, not much), work out again and then pass out from working so hard. Any time he had outside of class was spent on the Quidditch pitch or locked away in his dorm, overworking his body and secretly comparing it to his brother’s. No matter what he did, he never caught up. He was still the more annoying, weaker, less attractive reflection of his twin.
“There’s something wrong with him,” George said to you, walking to the courtyard for one of your breaks. “He’s been so off lately and I can’t figure out why.”
“You’re telling me!” You had noticed Fred’s changes in behavior and tried to talk to him about it. He had become quieter and less outgoing, usually choosing to be alone and do God knows what while you went off with your friends. In fact, the two of you hadn’t had an evening to yourselves in over a month. Not ever seeing your boyfriend was beginning to take a toll on you too.
“I’ve tried talking to him and asking if anything’s wrong, but he always blows me off,” you complained. “He just seems so sad and miserable, and the worst part is, I have no idea why!”
George just shook his head. “Me neither. He’s my bloody twin brother and we never even talk anymore. He’s always on his broom or locked himself in our room. Doesn’t ever let me in, so I don’t know what’s going on back there.”
Thoughts began to race through your head. “Do you,” you gulped. “Do you think he’s hiding something from us? Or...or someone?”
“Oh Godric no,” George said suddenly, wrapping you up in a hug. “Fred would never cheat on you darling, he loves you too much for that. He would go on and on about how bloody beautiful you are and how you’re the perfect person for him and it took everything I had not to strangle the git sometimes cuz he would never let me sleep.”
You squeezed him back tighter. “When...when did he say these things?”
George paused for a few seconds. “A little over a month ago. I...I haven’t really heard him talk much recently…”
You broke down sobbing in your friend’s arms, lowering yourself onto a bench and turning to cry into his chest.
“Shh, shh darling, it’s not your fault. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. Freddie loves you so much, he would never hurt you, ever.” He grabbed your chin so you were looking up at him. “Do you understand me?”
You nodded, eyes red and puffy before going back to his chest to cry. You spoke to him through broken sobs. “I...I’m gonna talk to him tonight. I need to f-find out what’s...wrong.”
George stroked your hair soothingly and rubbed your back. “Sounds like a plan, love. You’ve got this.”
You thanked him and continued to cry until you felt all of your sadness release. George helped you up and walked you to the bathroom to get your face cleaned up for the next class. Little did you or George know that Fred, from afar, had just witnessed the entire scene.
------------------------------
In his usual place as of late, Fred was curled up on his bed, unable to move from the intensity he had just put his body through. He tried to shift to get into a more comfortable position but it only made him groan and his stomach growl.
His arms, which were supposed to be getting stronger, were weak from malnutrition. He wasn’t even strong enough to sit up and do his Potions homework, which only made him feel worse about himself.
All his life it had been Fred and George. It didn’t matter that his name was first, because there was always George to follow. They were the same person, and yet he still felt inferior to his brother. No matter what he did, how hard he worked, George was always going to be better. He was the stronger twin, the kinder one, the more compassionate one who knows when a prank has gone too far. He was everything that you deserve, and everything Fred wished he could be.
Fred was startled by a knock on the door. “Freddie,” your muffled voice called through. He stayed quiet, hoping you would leave and look for him somewhere else, or better yet give up on him altogether. He couldn’t stand to look at you at the moment.
“Freddie I’m coming in.” Before he could do anything you had cast alohomora and were standing next to his bed.
Fred turned his head away from you, trying not to let you see how red his face was from crying. He pulled the covers up over his face, blatantly ignoring you.
“We need to talk.” You sat down next to him and ripped the blanket off, revealing a mostly naked Fred aside from his pair of boxers. You grabbed his shoulders to roll him over to face you, but you jumped back as he let out a pained groan.
“Get out, Y/N. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “You haven’t wanted to talk for the past month and I’m tired of it. I know there’s something wrong, and it’s killing me to see you like this. Please, Fred, you need to tell me what’s happening.”
The boy rolled his eyes and slowly moved to face you. “Why?” he asked. “So you can run off to George and have him comfort you? Why don’t you just save us both the trouble and go be with him.”
You were shocked by his words. Fred had never been the jealous type. Whenever you would talk casually with your exes or other boys would flirt with you, Fred was understanding and calm, always saying that you were his and he knew he didn’t have to worry about anything. But now for some reason he was seething with jealousy, and over his brother no less. It didn’t make any sense.
“What in the world are you talking about?” you asked indignantly. “You know that George is just my friend, my best friend. He’s in love with Angelina and I’m in love with you.”
Fred scoffed. “Yeah, alright then. What did you and Angelina do, draw straws and decide who gets who? It’s not like it would matter, as long as you got one of the twins.”
You sat down on the bed, fuming with anger. “Where is this coming from? You know I love you. I don’t love George, at least not more than a friend or a brother. I don’t love anyone else and I don’t want to be with anyone else, just you.”
Your hand traveled to his shoulder but he jerked up so that he was inches away from you. “Don’t lie to me. You’re just like everyone else. You got one of the twins, and then you realized that you got the worse one, so off you are to go seduce George, because he’s just my reflection but better. I know exactly how you think you worthless bitch!”
Both of you went silent. Fred had never spoken those things to you before. Never once had he raised his voice in anger, and he had never even thought about calling you a bitch or anything of the sort.
You brought your hand back to slap him, but you hesitated when he just gave up and sighed, awaiting the hit and not even trying to do anything about it. He was weak and exhausted and had completely given up on everything.
Lowering your hand, you moved it to caress his cheek. He leaned into the touch, letting small tears fall from his eyes and drop onto your fingers. You pulled him into your shoulder slowly, where he sniffled and cuddled up next to you.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean that. You’re perfect.”
After a few seconds you finally spoke up. “I love you so much. You cheer me up when I’ve had a bad day with your jokes.” Fred hummed into your shoulder. “You’re always helping me relax when things get too stressful, and you take me on the best adventures I could ever imagine.” He turned his head to meet your eyes. “You and George, while you might look the same, are completely different. I could never love him the way I love you, because he’s not you. He’s sweet, compassionate Georgie, and you’re fierce, loyal, loving, optimistic, beautiful Freddie.”
Fred nuzzled into your shoulder and pulled you down so you were both laying down on his bed. He mumbled something that you couldn’t make out.
“What was that love?”
“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” He spoke so shyly, pieces of his insecurities finally becoming apparent.
You held his face in your hands and stared into his mesmerizing brown eyes. “I think you’re beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, pretty, and absolutely perfect the way you are.” You ran your hands down his toned abs, starting to understand what he had been doing those many hours each day. “No matter how much muscle you have or how big or small you are, I’ll always love you. You look perfect to me.”
To show Fred exactly how you felt you kissed him all over his body, starting at his neck and moving to his chest all the way down to his thighs and calves. “Just because you’re a guy doesn’t mean you have to be super buff and toned. All bodies are beautiful, and that goes for men too. And you are the most beautiful of them all.”
Fred squeezed you tight, mentally hitting himself for not talking to you earlier. You loved him and he knew that. You didn’t love George and you didn’t love him because he was one of the Weasley twins. You loved him because he was simply Fred. Fred Weasley.
You shifted out of his hold and started to leave the room. “Where are you going love, please stay,” he asked, giving you his biggest puppy dog eyes.
“I’m gonna sneak into the kitchens and get you some food. You need to eat, Freddie. I’ve seen you skip meals and it’s not healthy.” He nodded reluctantly, still self conscious about the weight he thought he gained.
“Speaking of not being healthy, I think you should slow down with the workouts. There’s nothing wrong with getting a better body, but you’re destroying yourself in the process. Can you take a break for a few days and rest up before reevaluating your workouts?”
It took Fred a second to think over. He still wanted a body like his brother’s, but you were right. He wouldn’t get it from not eating and constantly hurting himself. “Yeah, alright.”
“I think there’s leftover ham and potatoes from dinner, does that sound good?” Fred agreed, cozying himself back up under the covers.
“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll get food and we can eat and catch up, and maybe read that book I was telling you about? You said you wanted to read it with me.”
“Sounds perfect, love. Thank you so much.”
You nodded and walked out the door, closing it softly. Fred looked around the room he had spent so much time in recently until his eyes landed on the mirror hanging on his wall. With what was left of his strength he got up and stood in front of it.
It wasn’t going to be easy. He had so many deep seated insecurities that he would need to work out, and it would take time. But for the first time in a while, Fred could finally look at his reflection and smile.
#fredweasley#fred x reader#fred#fredweasleyfluff#hogwarts#georgeweasley#fred weasley x reader#fredweasleyimagine#fredweasey#fred x y/n#fredweasleyfic#weasley#tw eating things#tw body dysphoria#tw cursing
156 notes
·
View notes
Text
Riddikulus
Draco Malfoy x Gender Neutral Reader
A/N- In no way do I support JK Rowling and her views. This work is all about the characters created by their true author, Daniel Radcliffe. I do not also dismiss the actions of Draco’s character. My imagine of Draco will always be a different interpretation.
Word Count- 5011 words
Warnings- Mentions of death, drowning, angst, mentions of animal hearts, and fluff.
Defence Against the Dark Arts had never been a strong point of Y/N’s. Even more so now that they had gotten used to having a new teacher every year. It seemed being in the same year as Harry Potter caused staff to come and go for many particular dark and sinister reasons. They were glad that Lockhart was no longer teaching, as his ways of education was rather, in the nicest phrase, absolutely shit. So far, Professor Lupin had done more for the children in teaching the subject, than both Professor Quirrell and Lockhart did combined. Y/N was truly hoping that Lupin was a permanent fixture to the position.
While Lupin prepared the class for each lesson, nothing could prepare the students for having to deal with the Boggart.
“Can anyone tell us what a boggart looks like?”
Y/N looked around at the classmates near them, instantly noticing Hermione’s hand shoot into the air.
“No one knows. Boggarts are shapeshifters. They take the shape of whatever the person fears most. That’s what makes it so…”
“Terrifying, yes. Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a Boggart. Let's practice it now, shall we? Without wands, please... Riddikulus!”
Y/N joined their classmates in repeating the incantation.
“This class is ridiculous.”
Turning at the sound of the snide comment, Y/N locked eyes with Draco Malfoy. In Y/N’s world, Draco was a mere speck in the distance, and that greatly offended Draco. No matter how much he called them a mudblood or caught them in the corridors with his cronies behind him, as they teased the young wizard/witch, Y/N all but let the worlds roll off their back; like water on a duck. Draco wished, just once, that what he and his friends said affected them, but yet it never did, and that pissed Draco off to know end. Not because his words did not hurt them. But because he wished that he could affect them just as much as they affected him.
Draco hated to admit it, but Y/N was a constant thought in his mind. They had made home in his soul and his heart long ago, and yet, he meant nothing to them. Draco often watched them from afar. He admired how they interacted with anyone and everyone. Draco craved that kind of attention. He craved the good mornings and hellos that others around him were graced to from Y/N. He wished that he had never called them horrible names. That maybe if he never, had, they would have been friends. Or even something more. But Draco was a teenage boy, and even though he was a wizard, he still dealt with his feelings the same way most teenage boys do… he hid them.
Y/N simply looked Draco up and down as he sneered towards them. Quirking an eyebrow at the boy’s useless act to cause her fear, Y/N watched as the look on Draco’s face faltered and was replaced by a look they could only describe as nervousness. The longer they stared at Draco, the more nervous the boy became. So much so, his cheeks began to turn red. But it wasn’t nervousness Draco felt. It was embarrassment. Because the longer Y/N looked at him, the more he felt himself fall.
“Good. So much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone is not enough. What really finishes a Boggart off is... laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing. Neville, come up here, will you?”
Y/N pulled their gaze from Draco, as the class laughed at the conversation between Lupin and Neville. They watched as Neville nervously stepped forward. Leaning to try and hear what Professor Lupin whispered to the boy, Y/N watched as the wardrobe began to shake.
Lupin stepped to the side.
“Right then. Wands at the ready. One. Two. Three!”
Sparks shot from Professor Lupin’s wand. As they hit the doorknob, the wardrobe instantly opened to show a figure of Professor Snape crawling out. Y/N was surprised. They never really knew how terrifying Neville had found Snape. It must have been greatly if he feared him more than the woman who tortured his parents.
As Snape walked closer to Neville, they saw the boy falter with his wand.
“Come on Nev!”
Neville quickly glanced back at his friend. Y/N motioned their hand in the form of the incantation. Neville quickly looked back at Snape as he approached.
“Riddikulus!”
Suddenly, the figure of Snape transformed, as the man’s usual clothing was replaced with the ugliest outfit any of the students had ever seen. Instant laughter erupted around the room. Y/N covered their mouth as the laughter tumbled from their lips.
From behind them, Y/N heard Draco and his cronies grumble in annoyance. Rolling their eyes, the young wizard/witch chose to ignore them and instead focus on the hilarious figure in front.
As the class continue to laugh, Professor Lupin walked forward towards the gramophone. Placing the needle down, loud music filled the room, as the students looked at the teacher.
Spinning around, Professor Lupin pointed at Ron Weasley.
“Ron! Forward!”
The Gryffindor did as Lupin instructed; shakily stepping forward. The class watched in eager anticipation as the horrifically dressed Professor Snape’s figure twisted and twirled in the air. The mass of magic soon transformed into the largest spider any of them had ever seen. Shrieks could be heard from some of the students, as Ron quivered in his shoes. Y/N couldn’t help but look on fascinated at the sheer size of the creature.
Lupin quickly set Ron in a secure stance, tapping the boy on the shoulders. Y/N watched as Ron successfully produced the spell, causing the giant spider’s leg to be placed in roller skates.
Once again, the class erupted into laughter once more; with even the Slytherin’s letting out a chuckle or two. Y/N couldn’t help but glance at Draco, seeing the platinum haired boy quickly wipe the smile off his face at the turn of her gaze.
“Alright everyone! Line up and remember, to keep laughing.”
Y/N eagerly lined up behind their classmates. Placed behind Dean Thomas, they looked around the tall boy to see what everyone was facing.
“Ready to face your fear, Y/L/N? Bet it is something ugly and grotesque, like yourself!”
Y/N glanced behind them to see Malfoy and his followers laughing at his jibe.
A look of indifference fell on Y/N’s face.
“I’ve had to deal with you for the past three years Malfoy. I’m sure whatever it is won’t be as horrid.”
Malfoy’s smirk dropped as he heard the students around him laugh at Y/N’s rebuttal.
Y/N turned back to see that they were up next, watching as Dean turned the giant cobra before him into a helium balloon version of itself. They couldn’t help but giggle at the silly creature.
High fiving Dean as he walked past, Y/N stepped forward and waited for the Boggart to take whatever form it wished.
Y/N wasn’t sure what to expect when the Boggart began to morph. They found many things frightening like heights or clowns. Even birds creeped them out. But what they weren’t prepared for was to see a hooded figure crying next to a hospital bed.
The class ceased their laughter as confusion fell amongst the students.
It wasn’t clear what was in the bed as the cover was draped over the figure completely. A loud continuous beep erupted from the machine next to the bed. Whatever, or whomever was lying there was dying.
Y/N stood still in their tracks as the figure next to the bed let out a heart-breaking sob. The cries grew louder and louder; filling the room.
Just as Y/N drew their wand to cast the incantation, the hooded figure lifted their head, and whipped their gaze to Y/N’s.
The words caught in their throat as Y/N looked into the eyes of themselves.
Draco pushed himself off the wall and walked closer to where Y/N stood, his worry for them coming to the surface.
Y/N couldn’t pull their eyes away from the boggart, feeling like they were relieving the worst day of their life all over again.
Professor Lupin soon realised that the boggart wasn’t being changed. Ready to step forward and take over, he was stopped by the young student walking towards the boggart and stood on the other side of the bed.
The class watched in bated breath, unsure of what was going to happen.
Suddenly, Y/N looked towards themself. Looking into their own grief-stricken eyes, they watched as the figure stood up and walked toward the life support.
“No don’t do that! Don’t turn it off!”
Before they could reach their own figure, the boggart turned off the life support.
Y/N looked on in shock. Quickly turning their gaze down to their bed, Y/N saw the rise and fall of the sheet covered body stop.
Slowly, Y/N turned to face the boggart version of themselves, and before anyone could step in muttered the incantation.
“Reducto.”
Students shielded their eyes as the boggart disintegrated. Like I divine presence was in control, the record playing screeched to a halt and silence befell upon the class.
“I think that is all for today. You may leave, except for you Y/N. Can you stay for a moment?”
The class began to disperse out of the room, throwing confused and worried glances towards Y/N, who still stood staring at where the boggart once stood.
Draco stood still in his spot, contemplating whether to approach them or not. Before he could do so, Draco watched as Professor Lupin slowly and carefully escorted Y/N up into his office, closing the door behind them.
“Oi Draco, Crabbe and I are going to hex some first years before dinner. You coming?”
Draco tore his gaze from where Lupin escorted Y/N. Facing Goyle, Draco moved to step out of the classroom following the stupid Slytherin.
Y/N stood still in Lupin’s office, as though in a trance.
Lupin carefully walked around the student, moving objects around to make the room more spacious. He could tell that what had occurred was more than just a boggart.
“Would you like to discuss what happened?”
Y/N broke out of their daze and stared at the professor.
“There’s nothing to discuss Professor. I saw the boggart and failed to use the correct incantation. So, I apologise.”
Lupin shook his head at the person’s dismissal of the traumatic event that had just occurred.
Moving to lean against the desk, Lupin took in the stoic nature of how Y/N stood. It was more than clear that what had happened was truly affecting them.
“What happened is nothing for you to apologise for. I am the one who has to ask for forgiveness. I did not step forward when needed to. You should not have to have seen or faced what you had.”
A distant look clouded over Y/N’s eyes. A look that Lupin knew all too well.
“Don’t worry Professor. It’s nothing I haven’t faced before. Now, may I be excused?”
Lupin knew better than to push the student. Nodding his head, he watched as Y/N walked to the door and exited his office without another word.
Walking down the corridors, Y/N took in the gaggles of students walking to the Great Hall for dinner. As they entered the Great Hall, Y/N moved to sit at their house table, when suddenly their path was blocked by Draco’s buffoons; Crabbe and Goyle.
“Finished crying, have we?”
The two boys snickered as Y/N just looked at them with no regard.
“Yes.”
Crabbe and Goyle were thrown of at Y/N’s truthfulness. Shaking it off, the boys continued to jibe the person in front of them.
“Now tell us mudblood, who was it dead on the bed? I bet Crabbe it was your blood traitor of a mother. He thinks it was your worthless muggle father.”
Y/N wished they had stayed in Lupin’s office because then what would occur would probably never have happened/
Y/N stepped forward to and gave the pair a venomous look.
Crabbe and Goyle ceased their laughter, freezing in fear at the stare they were held under.
“The next time you think about calling my father or mother names, it’ll be you both dead on a slab. You got it?”
The pair silently nodded their heads and watched as Y/N walked around them, continuing to walk to their seat.
“Whoever it was, I bet they’re more than glad they don’t have to deal with you anymore.”
At the sound of their words, Y/N whipped around, pulling their wand out of their robes in a frenzy.
“Aguamenti!”
A flourish of water sprayed out the end of Y/N’s wand, instantly knocking the boys to the floor. Students around them screeched as they moved out the way of the spraying water. Y/N could hear those around them laughing at Crabbe and Goyle’s misfortune, but they didn’t care. Y/N would not allow anyone to disrespect their family in any way.
“Y/Fu/N!”
Ignoring the shout of their name, Y/N continued to spray water at the two boys. Pushing them further and further back, Y/N neglected the presence of the tears falling from their eyes. Watching as Crabbe and Goyle unsuccessfully tried to fight against the sprays of water, Y/N felt nothing but rage.
“Finite Incantatem!”
Suddenly, the water ceased spraying from the end of Y/N’s wand. Turning to give a piece of their mind to whomever stopped them, Y/N’s words ceased once they saw the Head of Slytherin house behind them.
The glare shooting into their own stare would have usually petrified them, but the emotion of the days was already clouding their mind. Before Y/N could defend their actions, they felt a sharp tug on their forearm.
Students watched in silence as Professor Snape dragged Y/N out the hall; Draco being among them. He had witnessed Y/N attack Crabbe and Goyle. It seemed his wish of Y/N being affected by the words from he and his friends had come true. But at what cost? Them being dragged away before Draco could even do what he had planned to do; step in and be heroic? The minute he saw his two idiotic friends approach Y/N, he knew that whatever they were going to say would not be positive. Draco was ready to walk over and stop them, but before he knew it, they were on the floor, drenched, and coughing up water. He had missed his chance to help once more.
As Madame Pomfrey rushed into the Great Hall, Draco followed the nurse and Professor McGonagall as they escorted Crabbe and Goyle to the hospital wing. While many would have thought he was accompanying his friends to see how they were, the minute Draco left the Great Hall he headed in the opposite direction; to where he knew Snape would have taken Y/N.
Y/N knew that their actions were irresponsible but after the day they had, they truly could not care if they were even kicked out of Hogwarts. They were scarred from the Boggart incident earlier on in the day and angered by Crabbe and Goyle’s horrible words. The day had just been too much to handle.
Snape continued to pull Y/N down corridors, weaving through the different paths around the castle before he reached his desired destination. Y/N obviously recognised the professor’s classroom as they approached the door.
Forcefully, Snape pulled the student into the classroom.
“Sit.”
They did not have the will to fight back at this moment in time. Feeling the exhaustion from what had just occurred, Y/N took a seat on the stool behind them; hardly having enough energy and strength to hold up their own body. The tears continuing to flow in rivers down their tear-stained cheeks; pooling in the creases of their hands which barely held their head up. What Y/N had seen had truly wrecked them, but what Goyle had said was what broke the dam.
“Now, enlighten me Y/L/N. What bewitched you to try and drown two members of my house?”
Y/N rolled their eyes. Of course, that was all Snape cared about.
“Do not roll your eyes at me child. Answer the question.”
“It was simple misunderstanding Professor.”
Snape rolled his eyes at the student’s attempt at dismissing the subject.
“Well, it must have been something for you to not only cause harm to your fellow students, but to nearly flood the Great Hall and now sit in my classroom and cry about it.”
“Like I said. It was nothing Professor.”
Before Snape could retort back once more, a knock came from the door.
Both Y/N and Snape turned to face the archway as they watched Draco open the classroom door.
“What is it Draco?”
Draco’s eyes flittered between the pair. He saw the tears that had stained Y/N’s face and the grimace on Snape’s.
“Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you. He said it was concerning the events of last week’s full moon.”
Snape glared towards Draco and headed towards the door.
Turning to face Y/N as he stands in the doorway, Snape pointed at the student.
“Do not leave this room. You will face the consequences for your actions when I get back.”
As Snape whisked his cape in a flourish and strode down the corridors, Y/N couldn’t help the scoff that emitted from their throat at the man’s over the top departure.
Draco stood in the doorway and watched as Y/N wiped away the tears. He wanted to help them. He wanted to help them with all he had in him. Seeing them cry felt what Draco could only describe as his heart breaking. It consumed him with guilt that the people who he associated himself with had hurt Y/N. But, yet, he knew, that the words he has said in the past have been just as horrible too. Except he had never seen the words affect them. Until now.
Y/N felt Draco’s presence still in the room. They could make out his figure standing in the archway of the classroom, watching them. Staring at them as they continued to wipe away their tears. They weren’t in the mood for anymore bullshit.
“Don’t even start with your pathetic, sarcastic comments Malfoy. Your cronies have done more than enough today.”
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but before even a breath left his tongue, Y/N pointed their wand towards him.
“I swear to Merlin Malfoy, leave me alone for fuck sake!”
Draco watched as the tears continued to fall down their face, tracing their blotchy cheeks, and falling into the curve of their neck, below their crumpled collar. He wanted to help.
Moving towards the potion cabinet, Draco searched through the shelves.
“What are you doing?”
Rolling his eyes, Draco continued to search the cabinets.
“Malfoy, what-”
“Will you be patient? And put that wand down for Merlin’s sake, I am trying to help.”
Y/N slowly lowered their wand. Placing the wand on the table, Y/N threaded their hands through their hair and leaned their elbows on the surface in front of them. Their body felt more and more heavy as the seconds went by. Like the weight of what they had seen and done had been placed around their neck and was dragging them further and further into the depths of despair.
Draco couldn’t stand seeing them like this, so he worked as quickly as he possibly could. Grasping the necessary ingredients, Draco positioned himself on the stool diagonally from Y/N and began working on the potion at hand.
As the smell of lavender washed over the room, Y/N carefully lifted their head to see Draco stirring a mixture in the boiling hot cauldron. He concentrated on his work in silence, giving Y/N the chance to stare.
While Draco thought Y/N saw him as nothing but one of the other students in the school, as a speck in their life, he was terribly wrong. Y/N noticed Draco much more than he realised. They noticed how much he cared about his studies, how he truly enjoyed potions the most. They noticed how he always started the day by eating eggs on toast for breakfast, just a different form of egg every day. They also noticed that even though he and his friends called them names, he unconsciously winced every time a horrible word was said towards them; like it hurt to even hear such things directing their way. Y/N also noticed how when the boggart had shifted into what she had seen earlier that Draco stepped forward and unconsciously held his wand tighter. She just didn’t understand why.
Continuing to stare, Y/N watched as Draco meticulously dissected the crocodile heart to his side, putting the necessary amount in the cauldron. Once he had done so, Draco mixed in the drops of peppermint needed and stirred the potion until completed. Pouring his creation into a bottle, Draco grabbed a piece of parchment, and teared a small piece off. Writing on the scrap piece, Draco tied it to the bottle and placed it on the table.
Draco slid the bottle across the table until it was in front of Y/N.
“What is this?”
“It’s a Calming Draught. You can take it for whenever you suffer shock, trauma, or an emotional outburst. You’ve already calmed down mostly so only take a few drops. But if you ever need to calm down quickly, take a large gulp. There’s enough there to last a while.”
Y/N’s eyes drifted from Draco to the bottle he had placed before them. They still felt the dried tears on their face and the tension in their body. They knew that continuing to think about what they saw would just cause them to cry more. Grabbing the bottle, Y/N did as Draco instructed, and poured a couple of small drops onto their tongue.
Instantly, as if the most soothing wave had rushed over them, Y/N felt calm. The tension in their back eased as they breathed a sigh of relief. No longer did tears pool at their eyes at the thought of what happened. They could only feel serenity, and at that moment, they were extremely grateful to feel only that.
At the sight of Y/N visibly relaxing, Draco himself felt the tension from his shoulders leave. Happy that he had actually helped as he desired to, Draco stood from his seat and began to put away the ingredients.
Y/N didn’t know what to say. Draco had always been irritable towards them. Making snide and awful remarks, but, as they had realised, it seemed it always hurt the boy to do so.
“Thank you, Draco.”
Draco paused for a split second as he held the jar on the shelf. He quickly continued to put the ingredients away.
“I’ve written instructions on how to further take the potion. You will most likely need to use it again if you find the memories of today too much.”
Draco turned back to face where Y/N sat.
Whilst he saw that they had calmed significantly thanks to the potion, he still saw an aura of sadness surrounding them.
“I’ve lived with that memory long enough to get used to it. But I still appreciate your kindness.”
Draco clenched and unclenched his fingers. The boy wanted to ask further questions about what she meant. However, he felt he was in no place to do so.
As Draco successfully packed away the items, he swiftly walked towards the door, ready to leave.
“You can tell Crabbe and Goyle that neither of them has won their little bet.”
Draco stopped in his steps. Confusion fell upon him.
“What bet?”
Y/N swung their legs as they sat on the stool, fiddling with the string of the potion in front of them.
“Crabbe thought it was my, in his words, ‘blood traitor of a mother’ who was on the hospital bed. Goyle said it was my ‘worthless muggle for a father’. They were both wrong.”
Draco was unaware of the exact words that Crabbe and Goyle had said to Y/N. Now that he had heard them, Draco wished he had his own supply of Calming Draught, as what Y/N did to them was in no means near how bad Draco was ready to deal with the pair.
Draco stepped closer to Y/N.
“What did you mean when you said you have lived with the memory long enough?”
Y/N ceased fiddling with the string in front of them. Turning to look at Draco, she saw a look that she never thought would be directed at her by the Slytherin Prince. He looked concerned. Almost sad to hear their words.
“For a lot of people, their boggart is something like a person or a creature. Mine’s more of something I had to do. I had no choice and I live with that every day of my life. I live with the fact that I had to turn off my brother’s life support as I was the only person he had left. He was all I had left. Now, it’s just me, myself, and I. Has been for a while.”
Draco was at loss for words. He could not imagine being without his parents or to have to lose someone so close to him.
“What happened to him?”
Y/N looked down at their lap.
“Accident at work.”
Draco moved forward until he was near the stool next to Y/N. Slowly taking a seat, he watched in case they chastised his actions. They stayed quiet.
“When did he pass?”
Y/N could feel the tears coming back. But they knew if they continued to bottle it up, that they would just react how they had before. Draco might have not been who they thought they were opening up to, but this was a day of surprising events.
Y/N flashed a watery smile to Draco as they sniffled their nose.
“Um, about a week after I started first year. He was nineteen and had just gotten a job as an Aura. One of the youngest ever to be one. He was apprehending a dark wizard when he was hit with a spell that I have no clue of. He was in muggle London and was found by a muggle who called an ambulance. If he was taken to hospital in the wizarding world he would have survived. But I can’t blame the person who called the ambulance. They didn’t know about magic. They did what they thought was best. I did what I thought was best too.”
Draco reached out to hold their hand. Just as his fingers grazed theirs, Y/N pulled their hand away. Confusion laced their features.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Why am I telling you this?”
“I don’t know either.”
Y/N stared at Draco, taking in his figure. He didn’t look like the confident, arrogant Slytherin that roamed the halls. He looked soft. Breakable like porcelain. Like if enough pressure would be forced on him, he would shatter into a million pieces. Draco looked how Y/N felt.
“Why did you help me Draco?”
There was so much Draco wanted to say. He wanted to tell Y/N how much he truly hated the horrible things he had said towards them. How he longed to have them say hello and good morning to him like they did to everyone else. How he was standing so close to them in DADA class earlier because he wanted to take down the boggart for them. How he was about to hex Crabbe and Goyle himself before they did. He wanted to say all this and so much more.
“I’ve always wanted to help you. I finally had the chance to now.”
Right as Y/N was about to ask Draco what he meant, the door to the classroom swung open once more. The pair watched as Snape walked through the door, his cape billowing behind him as always.
Snape looked up towards where Y/N sat to continue reprimanding the student. He ceased in his steps once he saw how close they and Draco were sitting. That their hands were inches apart. One look in Draco’s eyes and he saw himself at that age. Hopelessly falling into a feeling, he never stopped falling in to.
“Leave.”
Draco went to stand without an argument.
“The both of you.”
Y/N looked at the Professor.
“But I-.”
Snape whipped to glare at Y/N.
“I have greater matters to deal with than your hormonal outburst child. Now, both of you head to your dorms before curfew or I’ll have you both in detention for a month.”
Without a second glance, Y/N stood from their seat and followed Draco out of the classroom. The pair continued to walk in silence down the corridor. As they arrived at the moving staircase, Y/N noted that this would be where they departed. Just as Draco moved to walk down the steps, he felt a pressure on his arm. Turning around, Draco watched as Y/N stepped towards him. He could feel their breathe on his face. Draco Malfoy had never been so stunned for words.
“Thank you, Draco.”
As their eyes stayed interlocked, Y/N moved their hand from Draco’s arm and slid it down to hold his own. Giving the boys hand a squeeze, they let got, and moved to head up the staircase without another word.
Draco watched as Y/N strode up the staircase and passed a corridor. He watched until he could no longer see them. Looking down at his hand, he clenched and unclenched his digits, feeling the ghost of a touch that was there for a fleeting second.
Facing back to the stairs, Draco walked down them, heading to the dungeons. Just as he was about to pass the hospital wing, a sudden though came to mind. If Crabbe and Goyle thought they were spending the afternoon in there, they would think again. After Draco would be done with them, they were going to be in there for a week.
While Draco could be sweet and kind for Y/N, he was still the Slytherin Prince after all.
#harry potter#draco#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy#harry potter imagine#hogwarts#tom felton#tom felton imagine
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
Judgement - Yandere! Taehyung x reader
The Tarot Series
“You’re not mad?” Jimin was doubled over in shock, barely able to stay in his seat.
“I mean… I just want the best for you. But he’s such an obsessive person, and a complete control freak. I don’t think you deserve that.”
“He’s not like that! Well, not any more, maybe.” (Y/N) read her friend’s face. Nothing but pure earnestness, truly believing that Kim Taehyung was a good person.
“Did you want a refill?” Before she could say another word, Jimin was standing up with their coffee cups in his hands.
(Y/N) nodded dumbly. Her mind was plagued by the thought of her ex-boyfriend edging his way into her friend’s life to destroy it.
The last time she’d seen Taehyung, he’d sworn she’d never find anyone like him. If she did, he would slit their throat, he would pull out their teeth. Anything to make his “imposter” pay. The idea that the same person who’d made such violent threats had now happily moved on was a jarring idea, but one that soothed (Y/N). Now they could both live their lives for the better.
The smooth clunk of the cup onto the table awoke (Y/N) from her daydream, as she thanked her friend and blew on her beverage to cool it down.
As they drank their newly refreshed coffees and discussed trivial TV programs, all the tension seeped out of (Y/N) body. Finally, she felt like life was in order, and she could move on.
The friendly conversation was interrupted by the sound of someone unlocked the door, shuffling in and removing their shoes.
“Tae? You’re home!” Jimin broke out into a grin seeing his boyfriend, clambering over the couch to greet him.
His hair was longer now, (Y/N) observed. His style was different, his skin had some ethereal glow to it. For a second she was worried she could fall in love with him again, only to see him give Jimin a peck on the cheek as he removed his jacket. Taehyung didn’t even look at her as he tossed his jacket aside, those deep, mysterious eyes that had once been fixed on (Y/N) were now focused on Jimin.
“Speak of the devil, we were just talking about you.” Jimin beamed, giving Taehyung’s cheek a playful pinch.
“All good things, I hope?” He replied, settling down on the sofa besides (Y/N). She flinched slightly, wanting to shuffle away. Despite all of Jimin's assurances, she was still haunted by their last interaction.
“I was just telling her how you’ve changed. You’re a new man, and I hope you two can be good friends from now on.” Jimin gave them his best puppy dog eyes. “You’ll at least try? For me?”
(Y/N) nodded, still watching Taehyung from the corner of her eye. He met her gaze, but there was a new warmth to his eyes as if he’d found serenity. The look that made her want to forgive him so badly.
*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*
Not even her handheld fan to cool (Y/N) down from the intense summer heat was enough, as she furiously checked her watch. Jimin was late, and the movie was going to start in ten minutes. There was no way they’d have time to pay for tickets and snacks in time to be in their seats when the film starts.
“Sorry I’m late!” Suddenly, Jimin was in her line of sight, tugging some unexpected baggage with him.
“Tae wanted to come. I hope that’s okay?”
“Sure…” (Y/N) was too preoccupied to even acknowledge his presence as she led the couple into the cinema, almost groaning aloud when she saw the small queue.
Luckily, Jimin was pleasant company as always, chatting to (Y/N) excitedly about the movie.
“What kind of name is Wachowski anyway? I’d put money on him being the secret villain or something.” As they were called to the front of the queue, Jimin suddenly flushed pink.
“(Y/N), can you buy these for me? I really need the toilet before it starts! I’ll pay you back, I swear.” Before she even had the chance to object he’d left, leaving his friend and boyfriend behind.
“Three tickets for the two-thirty showing, please.” Taehyung didn’t say anything, just observing as (Y/N) ordered flawlessly, reeling off her and Jimin’s traditional assortment of snacks for cinema trips. But when it came time to pay, before (Y/N) could get her card out of her wallet he was already inserting his into the reader without a word.
“Taehyung, you didn’t have to-” He placed a finger on her lips, giving her a soft smile that made her heart melt.
“My treat.”
He picked up Jimin’s confectionery and followed (Y/N) as they navigated towards their screen, finding Jimin right outside. The grin that erupted onto Jimin’s face, as if he was being given the world, was a sight to see.
His best friend and his boyfriend were with him, giving him everything he could possibly want. (Y/N) couldn’t possibly bear to break his heart, and swallowed all objections to Taehyung’s presence. She could be optimistic for Jimin’s sake, to give him the fulfilment that he deserved. Perhaps Taehyung had learned he was better without her. Even if now, (Y/N) had started to want him back.
*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*
“(Y/N)! Open the door! Please, (Y/N)! We need to talk!” The sobs of Jimin accompanied by the banging on her door were enough to warrant (Y/N) removing her headphones and going to greet him, despite it being dark outside and herself being ready for an evening of watching netflix alone with a bowl of store-bought gnocchi.
Jimin didn’t even hesitate pushing past her into her apartment.
He was an absolute mess. His hair was sticking up, his nose and eyes were red and puffy, and his whole body was trembling intensely.
“You were right. He’s a maniac.” Jimin managed to say shakily.
“Did you guys have an argument? You can stay at mine for the-”
“He’s insane!” Jimin cut her off. “I-I-I was at his place, and I wanted one of his shirts to stay warm. B-B-But then I found this in his drawer.”
He dug into his pocket to pull out a pair of lacy black panties.
“At first I thought he was cheating on me, and that was enough to make me want to kill him. But then I realised.” He pushed the undergarments into her hands, a fresh wave of anguish taking over.
“These are yours, (Y/N). I remember, we picked them out for your first date with him. Look, there’s a tear in them, because we got them discounted?” The young woman was frozen with horror as Jimin continued. “So I confronted him. He said there was no point in acting anymore. He never gave a shit about me, and only used me to get closer to you again. He used my feelings so that you would forgive him for the sake of our friendship, and as soon as you two were well acquainted enough he’d discard me so that you two could date again.”
“Oh, Jimin, I’m so sorry.” (Y/N) pulled her friend into a tight hug, letting his tears wet her hair as heavy sobs wracked his body.
“I-I’m the one who’s sorry. I ignored your warning, and I let him back into your life stupidly thinking he was a new man.” He wailed.
(Y/N)’s attempts of comforting him were suddenly interrupted as she heard a tame knocking at the door.
“It’s him, it’s him. It’s got to be. (Y/N), what are we going to do?” Jimin whimpered.
“He can’t do anything, right? If he tries to break in or something, we can call the police.” (Y/N) whispered back. For a few seconds, there was silence. Then the door swung open, Taehyung strolling in casually. From the charm on the set of keys in his hand, (Y/N) knew it was Jimin’s spare set, and cursed the man internally as she held him closer.
“Jimin, you were the perfect boyfriend. Always letting me see your location on snapchat, letting me know where you keep your spare keys, not calling the police when things get a bit out of hand.” Taehyung cooed, striding towards them. “But I think our relationship is over now.”
“Get out of my home, psycho.” (Y/N) hissed, still clinging to Jimin.
“Come on, (Y/N), you should have known. After all, I told you I could never stop loving you until the day I die.” Taehyung had a familiar simper on his face, the exact expression he’d had when she’d broken up with him and he’d promised she would be back in his arms in a year.
“You’re a monster. You played with Jimin’s feelings just so you could be back in my life. And for what? To control me again, to make me your puppet again?” She snarled, her fingers slightly digging into Jimin out of pure anger.
“For you, my love. You can call me whatever you want, you can despise me from the bottom of your heart. But I will not stop until you are mine again, no matter what.”
“Go fuck yourself, bastard.” Jimin finally spoke up, his voice slightly hoarse.
“Jimin. You’ve been useful to me, but now that time is over. I think you should leave me and (Y/N) alone now.” Taehyung purred, one hand dipping into his jacket pocket.
Jimin shook his head, pushing (Y/N) behind him.
“You were good to me, Jimin. Don’t be a thorn in my side now.” Taehyung growled, but the older man refused to back down.
“Well then.” Taehyung drew a gun from his pocket. “I’ll have to get rid of you.”
Jimin was visibly shaking with fear, but he didn’t budge an inch.
“(Y/N), get out of here now.” He said, managing to keep down the tremble in his voice.
“I can’t.” She tried to suppress her overwhelming dread as she spoke. “What do you want, Taehyung?”
As Jimin was about to protest for his friend’s sake, Taehyung cocked the gun to silence him.
“This is why you’re perfect, my love. Always so kind to your friends.” He held out his hand to her. “We should get sushi tonight, we haven’t had a proper date in a while. Come on.”
When (Y/N) placed her hand in his, giving one last longing look at Jimin to beg for his safety, she was spooked by how familiar his touch was. Taehyung wasn’t a new man, he couldn’t change after all. For (Y/N), his obsessive love was everlasting.
#yandere kpop#yandere bts#kpop yandere#yandere taehyung#yandere taehyung x reader#yandere x reader#yandere bts au#bts#yandere au#yandere#taehyung x reader#bts v#yandere v#v x reader#yandere v x reader#yandere kim taehyung x reader#yandere kim taehyung#the tarot series
408 notes
·
View notes
Text
come on saturday afternoons, when it’s golden hour.| lee donghyuck
summary: Falling in love for a decade with a boy who’s as confusing as could be may be a mistake, but you’re too distracted by his nimble fingers making poisonous flower crowns and his golden honey-like skin to care. He seems too busy looking bitterly at the moon to forget to stop leading you on, too. So all is fair.
word count: 10.0k words
warnings: angsty and talks about insecurity and lowkey obsession with a person
a/n: by the way; haechan is called two different names in this. he’s called “donghyuck” when he’s thinking about himself and when y/n talks, thinks, or references him. he’s called “haechan” when it’s one of his other friends interacting with him, and also by y/n towards the end. it’s meant to signify the distance she puts between him and herself.
///
Donghyuck is the son of the golden hour. He has to be, you think, because there is no one that embodies the epitome of sun-kissed beauty as well as he does. You are a witness to this ethereal beauty because you’ve spent your whole life living next to him.
It’s funny, his house emits the same beauty he does. The way the vines are overgrown in the prettiest way, running over the window sills and growing into the muted yellow-painted wooden paneling. The way the cracks on the sidewalk leading up to his humble abode are filled with yearning budding flowers instead of cement and milkweed. Even the sculptures on the pathway to his house are covered in beautiful vines that wrap themselves around the bodies of the solid stone art, silently suffocating their inanimate figures. To most, that may seem dull, but nothing related to Lee Donghyuck could be dull to you. In some strange way, you saw the beauty in his beat-down and poorly taken-care-of yard.
You remember the first time you met him, a decade ago, when you walked past your chatting parents into his yard. It was golden hour then, too, you recall, because you remember the orange light soaking your memory’s walls. You walked up to the kneeling boy with caramel skin; he was picking flowers from the ground in the farthest corner of the house lot, the only place the ugly flowers sprouted. It was a corner shrouded in dark shadow and it was noticeably a few degrees cooler there. Every once in a while, before he moved in, you’d pass by the old house and stare at the corner, feeling a somber feeling come over you. But somehow the boy lit the area up, warms streams of light flooding the previously cold patch.
He was picking weeds, lacing them together into a wicked flower crown. He paid no mind to your mud-stained sneakers stopping in front of him, he only continued on with his actions.
“You know those are bad for you, right?” The young boy stopped his movements, looking up at you for the first time. You immediately took note of his dark brown eyes with flecks of amber in them, almost getting mesmerized by their still gaze.
His eyes scanned you, not really caring. He automatically went back to his poisonous flower crown, causing an uneasy feeling to stir within you. “I know.”
Silence ensued, making the air feel suffocating. Despite his cold shoulder, you sat down next to him in the patch of mud by his side, not daring to cross onto the patch of grass he sad comfortable on. He seemed surprised but quickly went back to his indifferent facade, scooting away from you.
Hours passed as he made more and more flower crowns, and you simply watched. There was no conversation between you both, only a mutually appreciated quietness. It was when there was no warmth left of the sun, and instead, there was only the biting chilly air of the moon that nipped at your skin, did he finally speak again.
“Don’t you think the flower crowns are pretty?” He asked, his head tilted to the side as he held one out to you. You saw the intricate interweaving of the milkweed stems with one another, not even the hairy peach fuzz took away from the delicate-looking crown. You nodded vigorously, hoping to please him. And you did, because he offered you one of the many he made before getting up and looking at the sky.
“The moon is kind of ugly, don’t you think?” You looked up at him, surprised at his randomness. But, you paid no mind to it, opting to simply stare at how his nose scrunched at the sight of the glowing orb in the sky.
“Yeah.” No, you didn’t. You loved the moon, the way it shone beautifully. The moon was subtle beauty. Donghyuck (his parents told you his name) was obvious, infinite beauty. But you wanted to please him.
He smiled a little, “Cool. We agree.” You awkwardly shifted on your feet, only giving him a tight-lipped smile. He didn’t even show you out of his yard, and he walked up the steps to his house that had warm orange lights illuminating the bushes in front of the windows softly. Not knowing what to do, you stood in place, watching him walked gracefully closer to the door.
Before he fully stepped in, he looked back at you with an emotion that you could never fully recall, speaking in a strangely authoritative voice, “Come back tomorrow and actually help me make some flower crowns. At golden hour.”
You went back the next day. And the day after that, and the week after that, and the month after that. Years passed and you’d still regularly meet with him in the back of his yard on warm Saturday afternoons. You never interacted with him outside of those times, and you were content with that. As you passed him in the school halls, only you would know the sacred time you spent together. You loved it because it was like having a little piece of him just to yourself.
You were eight then. You still had the milkweed flower crown, just now it was pressed into a glass frame that hung across from the foot of your bed.
///
When your legs started growing a little longer, and you noticed changes to your body that hadn’t been apparent before, you were eleven. You only realized you were going through puberty because the little patch of hair that started to grow under your arms, and the way you crinkled your nose when you sweated, the smell unfamiliar.
Some would call you a late bloomer, but you’d disagree. Late bloomers didn’t fall in love early. Late bloomers didn’t spend their days counting the freckles on Donghyuck’s nose -- late bloomers didn’t love so strongly. You told your friend that you thought Donghyuck was cute, and she laughed at you, muttering how he looked like a pumpkin with his chubby face. You frowned, reminding yourself to get new friends who were nicer. (She was the same friend who told you years later that he was light-years out of your league.)
Donghyuck still seemed to be stuck in his elementary school days, his baby fat still sticking to him cutely. You found it endearing, the way you had to look down at him when you talked with him in the cool corner of his backyard. You didn’t mind being taller than him, it gave you the perfect view of his eyelashes casting shadows against his golden skin.
“Can you stop staring at me and actually do something?” He sneered playfully, sighing dramatically and placing his nearly-finished flower crown on his knee. The surface layer skin was broken, little pellets of blood pooling. He had fallen at school, the mulch on the school playground rather unforgiving.
“Geez, sorry.” You muttered back, a small smile spreading across your face. You pick back up your flowers, interweaving the leave with delicate motions, careful not to break the bonds. It was silent again, the only sounds the ones of the leaves rustling as the sun dove under the horizon.
These were the moments you treasured with him. The ones where neither of you spoke and the sun would quietly dip under the horizon. The moments where you could stare freely as he paid no mind to you, off in his own little world.
“Haechan!” A voice called from inside. You both looked up, stopping your ministrations. His mom walked out of the backyard door, a bright smile taking your attention. “Your friends are here!” With the mention of those words, the temperature dropped. You tilted your head in question and glanced at him, confused. “It’s Saturday? I thought we were hanging out today?” The words seemed to swim past his ears. Hastily, he stood up, his hand reaching for yours. The burn of his skin on yours was enjoyable but it didn’t last, because he suddenly started to shove you out of the back fence. You watched as his pearl white sneakers stepped on the flower crown you were working on, the white blood of the flower spilling out, soaking the dirt beneath it.
The image of him stepping on your hard work caused your eyes to well up, your bottom lip started to quiver.
“Hurry and -- What? Why are you crying?” You wish you could say you heard care in his voice, but it felt more like you were an annoyance, like you were a problem to be dealt with. You shook your head, not giving him an answer. He groaned, quickly looking back at the silhouettes of his ‘friends’ in the window. His eyes analyzed the yard, grabbing the first thing laying next to your shoe on the ground and shoving it into your chest.
“Here, have this. I got to go. See you later.” And like that, Lee Donghyuck shoved an enormous hoodie in your hands that still hung in your closet. It was so big back then that you could wear it as a dress, but now it fits like a large sweatshirt. Even after all these years, it still smells like the freshly cut grass from back then.
///
Donghyuck always had a habit of flicking his thumb and pointer finger against each other when he was nervous. You didn’t notice it until you were in your Freshmen year of high school, age fourteen, and he got called by the teacher to stay after class and talk to her.
He nodded, and for the whole hour, his leg was bouncing up and down. You decided to stay after and take a little longer to pack your things up before school let out for the day. After the bell rang and the students poured out the single door, rushing to get to the buses, he got up shakily from his spot behind you.
You didn’t know why he didn’t sit next to you, you distinctly remember patting the seat next to you on the first day of class, but he just moved past your seat to the row behind you. He sat down with Jeno, a boy you recall was on the swim team. At least he sat behind you, you thought.
“Did you cheat on your test, Mr.Lee?”
Your eyes snapped up to look at the expression on his face. You frowned at his stuttering lip. “N-No.”
She raised an unconvinced brow, “Oh, really? Then why does your short answer look exactly like Ms. L/n Y/n?”
You saw his fingers start to move, anxiously flicking each other as he thought up a lie. You felt bad because you had told him he could cheat off of you before class; you knew he didn’t get much sleep the night before due to the soccer team practicing late that day.
Shoving your binder into your bag, you quickly zipped up the large pocket and headed over to the teacher's desk, a shy smile on your lips. She was unimpressed by your interruption, opting to glare at you. “Yes, Ms. L/n?”
“I’m sorry Mrs.Kim, but I heard you accusing Donghyuck of cheating,” she frowned at your choice of words, “and I’d just like to say, that it wasn’t him who cheated.”
A scoff left her red lips, and you couldn’t help but notice the wearing of the cherry red lipstick in the middle of her mouth. “That’s very cute of you, Ms. L/n. But he cheated off of you, I graded the papers.”
Donghyuck’s wide eyes stared at you, waiting for your next move. His fingers were still flicking each other rapidly, but his gaze was different. It looked like he was depending on you. Like he needed you.
“Sorry Mrs.Kim, but I was the one who cheated off of him.”
She didn’t buy it for a minute, “How? He sits behind you.”
Your eyes did a quick scan of the room, hoping to find something, anything, that could prove your lie. That’s when your eyes found a mirror hanging in the wall buy your seat. You fought your smile, “Well, I looked through the mirror next to me.” The teacher’s head snapped to the reflection of you three standing at her desk. “I learned to read backward in seventh grade for a science project.” It was true.
With a huff, she quickly grabbed a red pen and wrote a big ‘0′ on your paper before dismissing you both to go home. She left after mumbling things to herself, something about “bratty kids”.
The classroom was completely empty, the sun was dipping under the horizon again, a little early this time. It was daylight savings time, you remembered.
“Hey,” A smooth voice let out. You looked behind you, tearing your attention away from the golden light pouring in through the windows and at the handsome smile on Donghyuck’s face. His baby fat disappeared, his shoulders got wider, and his legs grew longer. But he still had that same breath-taking smile he always did.
“Yes?”
“Thanks. I’ll be more careful next time.” You recognized a playful tone, you nodded and giggled at him. “Please do that. I don’t think my mom will be very happy about the zero for a test grade.” He flung his black backpack over his shoulder and stuck one of his hands in the front pocket of his jeans.
“See you on Saturday.” He let his hand gently grab your shoulder, before letting it fall and trail down to your hand. He gave it one squeeze before walking away, not sparing you a single glance. Your hand burned at his warm, golden touch.
You didn’t mind taking the blame, because he let you see a little part of him no one else noticed. It was an eye for an eye, you told yourself.
///
You were sixteen and hated parties. They always reminded you of some bad teen movie where the girl’s heart gets broken and the boy watches as she goes to someone else to console herself from his memory. But Donghyuck’s strange persistence was new to you, and you happily obliged to go.
“Y/n, are you going to the party at Jaemin’s tonight?” You quirked a brow playfully at the busy boy, smiling. “What do you think? Hyuck, I’ve never talked to the guy. I don’t know anyone who’s going to be there.”
“Errnt. Wrong -- you know me.” He replied, a smile adorning his features as he tilted his head and closed his eyes childishly. You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your place on the white table set his mom had recently bought, stating, “You two are too old to be sitting on the grass and getting your pants dirty.”
“And you want me to go this time, why?” Donghyuck proceeded to put down his fifth flower crown and place his chin between his thumb and forefinger, thinking. “Hmmm, Oh, I don’t know -- because you’re my best friend and I want to take you places?”
Your fingers stopped moving, the plant temporarily forgotten as you stared, shocked, at an unnoticing Donghyuck. “W-What?” He had never called you his best friend before. Hell, he’d never called you his friend before. Some may have taken that as strange, but you considered it a weird aspect of your friendship. But hearing the words leave his pretty pink heart-shaped lips wasn’t good for your heart rate.
“What?” He shrugged, reaching over the table to push your forehead back with his pointer finger. “You didn’t think we were friends? After eight years?” You shook your head, a smile breaking onto your face. “No, it’s nothing. When do you need me to be there?”
“On second thought, can you pick me up with you? At eight tonight? Oh, and bring your polaroid -- I wanna take pictures.”
That was how you were standing outside, your yellow polaroid around your neck as the flies buzzed around your red solo-cupped drink. From the smell, you were sure it was vodka. You crinkled your nose and dumped it on the owner’s lawn. Sorry, not sorry.
Donghyuck said he’d meet you out on the barren back patio at nine, reassuring you that you could manage on your own for an hour and that he just wanted to say hi to some people and get a little alcohol in his system. You didn’t have the strength to tell him you didn’t care about his need for some illegal product -- you just wanted to go home -- so you nodded and agreed to wait.
But considering the weather forecast stated that it was supposed to reach forty degrees by nine, your decision wasn’t the best. You sat on the concrete ledge, butt cold and snuggling into your hoodie that Haechan had given you so long ago.
When your lungs got sore from the cold air, you buried your nose in the warm hoodie. It still smelled like him even after all this time.
“Ditched, I’m guessing?” A pair of vans with black straight-legged jeans appeared next to you, and you couldn't help the jolt that left your body. A laugh sounded, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” A boy you recognized as Jaemin, the host, sat next to you, a half-full red solo cup in his ring-covered hand.
“Oh, It’s...okay. You didn’t scare me. I was just thinking.” You shifted away from him, not too familiar with Donghyuck’s friends. His latter words popped into your head again, “and no, I didn’t get ditched. I’m here with...someone”. He noticed your pause and grinned, letting his gaze drop to the grass blades beneath his feet. “Relax, I’m not going to try anything.” He rested his arms and head on his knees that were near his chest.
“I didn’t think you were.” You assured. A silence that made your skin crawl ensued, but the attractive boy didn’t leave. “So,” he bobbed his head and looked around the yard, “who did you come with?”
“Donghyuck.” You answered, lifting the red cup to your lips, only to find that there was nothing there and awkwardly placing it down by your feet. “Donghyuck?” He questioned, “You mean Haechan, right? Lee?” You nodded, rolling your eyes slightly. “His real name is Donghyuck.” You scolded yourself for giving him any sass, poor guy probably just wanted to talk to someone. Though, you thought, there were plenty more interesting people inside the house where the heat was on rather than outside in the biting weather.
“...Yeah...” Jaemin mused, his eyes narrowing, “I know. I’ve known him since we were eleven.” This surprised you, and you whipped your head around to him. “Oh?”
“Yeah, I still remember going over to his house once and going into his backyard and there were a bunch of flower crowns everywhere. Not gonna lie, we poked fun at him for it -- ‘we’ being me, Jeno and Renjun -- it was light-hearted, though. But, turns out they were made by some ‘freak that lived next door that sneaked into the yeard.’ He quoted with his fingers, not paying any mind to the look that crossed your features.
Freak? Did he think you were a freak?
“How long have you known him?” He broke you out of your racing thoughts. “Oh, um, since we were eight. I’m his, uh, neighbor.” A startled wince appeared on his face as he muttered out an ‘oh’ and scratched his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine, I’m sure he was just playing.” Another round of silence and you were sure that the cinnamon-haired boy was going to leave, but he stayed. He was warm, probably from being inside, and it radiated off him onto you. It was nice, having someone sit next to you, for once. You supposed Na Jaemin wasn’t too annoying.
“So, how do you know Haechan? Like did you date or...?” His shoulders bumped into yours playfully and you avoided eye contact, hoping he didn’t see your blush from his prying. “No, we never dated, I’m his...” You stopped.
“I’m his...” you trailed off again, not really knowing what to call it. But, recalling his words from earlier, a giddy grin lifted the corners of your lips upwards. “Best friend. I’m his best friend.” Jaemin rose a brow and laughed, “It’s the first time I’ve ever heard about you...?”
“Y/n.” You gave him a tight smile, not knowing what else to say.
“Y/n.” He repeated, smiling. “That’s a beautiful name.” A hand came down to pat your arm, and it felt strangely comforting. “Thanks,” you glanced at him one last time, “Jaemin.” A breathtaking smile erupted from you saying his name, and it made you a little happier, too.
The atmosphere was idyllic, unusually so, because you honestly thought that you’d be spending most of the night alone. Looking at Jaemin, he was more of a cool boy, opposite of Donghyuck. Jaemin was like the night, in a sense. Cool, mysterious, yet open like the black sky. There was nothing to be afraid of with him. He wasn’t quite as smooth as honey and he wasn’t quite as enrapturing as the love of your life. But, he was warm in a way Donghyuck wasn’t.
But before your mind could wander more, a familiar silhouette of Donghyuck was cast onto the green backyard. It belonged to the drunken boy who stood in the doorway, a suave smile on his lips. Jaemin hesitated before ruffling the hair on your head and whispering, “Be careful.” in your ear before getting up to leave, grabbing Haechan’s shoulder and sharing a look with him briefly before heading inside. One last pitiful look and he was gone.
“What was that about?” You asked, leaning back on your arms to gaze at the glowing boy standing above you. He looked down at you and smiled. “Nothing, just reminding me to do something...or not to do something, I guess.”
“Let me guess, you’re not going to listen to him?” The boy’s expected nod made you laugh and shake your head, “You know me so well.”
“I know I do. I had to deal with you for eight years.”
“You deal with me? Isn’t it the other way around?” You were about to quip back when you remembered what Jaemin had said earlier about Donghyuck calling you a freak, and your voice died in your throat. Carelessly, he sat next to you, one beautiful hand threading through his hair. Donghyuck wasn’t looking at you, instead, he seemed to be glancing at his watch and swirling the smelly drink around in his cup. You could tell because you heard the sloshing.
“Anyway,” you cleared your throat, “why did you want me to bring my camera?” The boy’s eyes lit up and he smiled that heart smile of his that created daylight even in the middle of the darkest of nights.
“I realized that we didn’t have any pictures together, and I kind of wanted to take some.” You scoffed, he was never one for sentimentality. “Uh-huh, that’s totally the reason why.”
“Fine, you got me,” He giggled, “Mom wants to make a scrapbook for your mom’s birthday coming up. She thought it’d only make sense to have both of us in it, but I had no pictures to give her when she asked for them, so.” He shrugged, “I’m killing one bird with one stone.”
“That’s not how the saying goes, Hyuck.”
“I know, I’m not dumb.”
“Whatever, let’s just take the pictures so I can take us both back home.” This elicited a whine from Haechan and he plopped his head on your shoulder, making you go stiff. “I don’t wanna go yet~!” It was probably just you feeling guilty, or maybe it was his breath on your neck, but you agreed to take him home later. You could stay outside.
“Let’s take the pictures now! I’m keeping people waiting inside.”
“O-Okay.” You stuttered out, scooting closer to him. You still stopped a few inches apart from him and angled your polaroid to snatch a picture, but the boy chuckled and encircled his arm around your waist. He moved closer and placed his other hand on your face to squish your cheeks together, making a silly fish face. “Let’s make them cute for our moms.”
He posed you three other times, one with his legs over your lap and your laughter showing through the overexposed pictures, one with you both stroking your chins in 1940s detective style, and one where you two were playfully staring into each other’s eyes, in a staring contest. After that last one, you shyly told Hyuck that you couldn’t take any more because you didn’t want to waste your film, but really it was because you weren’t sure how much more your heart could take with all his golden goodness.
“Yeah, yeah -- one more.” He pouted, “Please?” You sighed and nodded slowly, secretly loving the way he giggled and clung to your loose arm like an excited kid.
“Okay, pose me, pose-master.” You dropped your arm to your sides, waiting for him to work his magic. He nodded and took your camera. “Hey -- ”
“Oh, hush, I’m taking the picture this time.” You glanced nervously at his carefree hand holding the polaroid but nodded again. “Okay, please don’t drop it.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes, “Of course, your highness.” A giggle escaped your mouth and you motioned for him to continue, but he simply moved even closer to you than before. Your heart rate was through the roof but you remained still and let him do his thing; but, after all the shuffling, he made no move to move you, instead, he put his face right in front of yours.
Wide-eyed, your eyes shot down to his lips before stuttering out, “W-What’re you doing?”
He put his finger against your mouth, effectively shushing you as you weren’t used to his warm honey skin touching yours. “This picture isn’t for mom. It’s for us.” You could practically feel his whisper on your lips. His slender fingers brushed back a piece of your hair, slowly tucking it behind your red ears. “Wow, your ears are so red,” he whispered, letting his palm completely cup your face.
Before you could ask what he was doing, his lips pushed onto yours. His metal rings burned your hot skin as they slid past your face and he cradled your neck, pushing your lips deeper into his. It was feverish. Deliciously so.
Words couldn’t describe your feelings. It felt like a dream -- a dream you’ve had since you were eight. His honey-sweet lips on yours, stealing your first kiss. One hand moving from your neck to resting beside your leg as he leans in to caress you with his kiss. His warm breath fanning against your lips, you breathing in his scent that wafted off his clothes in the cold moonlit night. It was beautiful. It was saccharine. It was like candy.
It was addicting.
Then the camera flashed. And you awoke out of your dreamlike state as he parted from you, not noticing as you trailed after him, wiping your mouth as a thin string of spit connected you both. He didn’t look at you as it came out of the camera, he simply gently shook the picture and stared as it developed, sucking on his bottom lip in impatience. Once it did, you managed to catch a look; and it was ethereal. The light captured your red ears and softly interlocked lips, and Donghyuck’s collarbones, somehow, caught the camera light. His cheeks were red, and so were his ears, but they were so faint you’d have to squint.
“Donghyuck --” You started, eyes shimmering as you turned towards him, about to ask him about the sweet kiss. There was a pool of hope growing in your stomach, bubbling like boiling sugar -- but it all drained as you saw his expression. Indifference. He looked at you like he always did, and his red flush was gone, the only evidence of your doings left on his lips as they swelled. The magical atmosphere seemed to diminish in thin air, and suddenly the cold was very apparent again. The wind picked up.
“It looks too blurry...but it’ll do.” With that, he half-shrugged and pocketed the picture, ignoring your shocked eyes as a corner of the picture began to dog-ear from being nonchalantly shoved into his jeans.
“I’m going to get some more vodka, I’m not drunk enough.” And he got up and left, just like that. No explanation. Nothing. But you didn’t need his words to understand that he didn’t mean the kiss like you wanted him to mean it. You just didn’t know what he meant by it.
Not knowing his exact reason was what acted as bait, your heart was getting tugged by his hook. You were still ensnared by this glowing boy.
Even with the tears welling in your eyes and your heart pounding painfully against your ribcage, you still smiled. It was a painful smile, but it was a smile.
Donghyuck had kissed you. You. That had to mean something, hadn’t it? You pocketed that shred of hope, holding it close to your heart as tears fell from your eyes. They were happy tears. They had to be. The love of your life had just kissed you, no one else. You.
Your tears seemed to shimmer in the patio light: they were a golden color as they rolled down your face and off your chin. They fell into a grass blade beneath you and caused a blade of yellowing grass to droop.
You thought it was beautiful.
He gave the picture back to you the following Monday, ignoring your questioning state and simply stating that ‘He didn’t need it anymore’. You were about to ask him what he meant by that but his friend, Jaemin you remembered, grumpily waved him over from across the hall. You were too overjoyed by having the picture in your grasp to remind yourself to ask again. You two never did talk about that kiss, though, or about the pitiful gaze Jaemin gave you as Haechan walked towards him.
///
Donghyuck was not the type to ‘like’ anyone.
It wasn’t that he thought he was too cool to do so, it wasn’t that he thought there was no one good enough for him, it wasn’t even that he was afraid of the love of his life falling for someone else. That’s not what he was afraid of.
He was afraid of the sunspots, the imperfections of himself. He was afraid of being open about his insecurities. He was afraid of someone not seeing him for who he was, but at the same time, all he wanted people to see was his perfection. People thought he was good-looking anyway, why let that all be ruined by his emotional trauma?
So when he turned eighteen and he started to look at your long lashes casting shadows on your face, and those luscious lips glistening from your tongue in a whole new light, he was scared. He didn’t like you, no, no, no. Surely not. You were just getting pretty, that was all. Your eyes were just getting bigger, that’s why it was so easy for him to get lost in them. Your body temperature must’ve been getting higher, that’s why the casual brush of your skin against his was burning him. You were just...changing. So was he, that was all. Man, was he going through puberty late, or what? All these unfamiliar emotions annoyed him. They made his nostrils flare; because for once, he wasn’t in control of his own emotions.
Not that it mattered too much, anyway. He wasn’t in love with you -- that was for sure. Love was much too strong of a word. He couldn’t -- not with all the things he’s done to you in the past, at least.
(That’s what he told himself.)
///
When you were eighteen, around Christmas time, Donghyuck asked you to spend the night at his house for the first time. Yeah, you’ve been to his house before, but you’ve never stayed the night. He’s probably seen your room more times than you’ve seen his parents, both of them, combined. But now that you were half a year away from graduation, you weren’t as focused on having fun. Surprising yourself, you’d called a raincheck on the past three flower crown sessions.
And even more surprising, he turned up to your doorstep on Friday at eight at night asking you to stay the night at his house, a red glow to his face. Without thinking, you nodded and quickly grabbed your things before leaving your mom a note and rushing out your door to his house.
“Why’re you inviting me over, anyway? I’ve known you for ten years and you’ve never asked me to do this.” You were closing the door to his house behind you, making sure it didn’t slam shut. “Oh, please,” he threw his hat on a coat hanger, “I’ve seen your place plenty of times.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never spent the night at yours. This is like a level up in friendship.”
He sneered, “Never say that again. God.” You rolled your eyes, muttering a playful ‘whatever’ as you bumped his shoulder walking past him into the kitchen. He faced the marble counters in an attempt to hide his smile, but you could see the corner of his lips quirk upwards.
He dug through the cabinets, grabbing out ingredients to make pancakes -- or at least, that’s what it looked like -- and you were left to trail your eyes over his broad shoulders. His smooth skin disappeared underneath his graphic t-shirt that lifted up to reveal the pastier skin of his hip whenever he reached up. This boy had you entranced, and you loved it.
He hummed a tune that was barely audible over the clamor of the metal pots and pans he took out, but your keen ear could tell his voice was just as beautiful as it was as an awkward middle school choir boy, probably even better.
The silence was broken by him clearing his throat, “Neither of my parents will be home for the weekend. And...I felt alone so...” he shrugged, “I wanted someone over. And, you’re the closest, so...”
You could tell his face was red without even looking at him. You bit your lip, hiding your smile. You moved from his island to right behind him, peering over his shoulder. Summoning all the courage in your nervous body, you rested your chin on his shoulder by standing on your tippy-toes.
Donghyuck stopped, his shoulder stiffening as he looked down at you with wide doe-like eyes.
It was his turn to admire you. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, you were the most beautiful you’ve ever been. With your dimples and rosy cheeks, crescent eyes -- all of it. You were cute, he couldn’t lie. And he couldn’t lie about his shock and loneliness from not seeing you for three weeks. Normally it was you sending him longing looks in the hallway, but this time around it was him watching your joyous figure hop around in festive spirit.
The one thing he noticed most of all, was the fact that you were on the balls of your feet to reach his shoulder. He beamed at you, shaking his head playfully before ducking down to, ‘be at your inferior level’. You laughed, shoving him away from you. His melodious laugh rang out, making your mind spin. Even his laugh was priceless.
The hours passed by as you both ate your chocolate pancakes and watched countless movies from your childhood. Donghyuck was never particularly touchy with you, but this time his arm fell into place behind your neck and his legs were pressed against yours. You could feel his warmth through his black fuzzy sweats. If he couldn’t see your red ears, you’d be shocked.
“Can we go to bed now? I’m tired of watching these lame chick-flicks.” The yawning boy complained, stretching out his limbs and pushing the coffee table with his feet in the process. “Oh, please, you act like you didn’t cry for the whole movie.” You retorted, flicking him on the forehead before getting up yourself, reaching your arms to the popcorn ceilings, stretching.
Donghyuck watched your pajama shirt ride up your sides, your smooth skin breaching his sight. The boy couldn’t help but rub the shell of his ear in embarrassment: since when did he get so flustered over a little piece of skin? He’s kissed you before for god’s sake.
He’s kissed you. The kiss that he thought about over and over again these past few months, even though it’s been two whole years since the kiss. For some reason, he’d dream of your shimmering eyes and moist lips. He smiled to himself when he could tell that you didn’t drink any alcohol that night; you didn’t taste like rum. Donghyuck was sure he did, though.
As you turned off the TV and took the popcorn bowl to the kitchen, he pondered about what had changed about you to elicit such a shift in his own heart. Was it because you were no longer awkward around him? Was it because your eyes focused on your work, even when he sat next to you? Was it because you no longer looked at him like he was the most important thing in your life? Or, Donghyuck shuddered at the thought, maybe I like her now. That was a thought he scrapped immediately. There was nothing special about you. You may have been in love with him, but it was not the other way around.
“Hyuck, what’re you waiting for? Let’s go to your room. Oh, and can you help me set up the air mattress?” You bounded up his carpeted stairs as you called out, knocking him out of his trance. “Oh, wait!” He yelled, switching off the lights in the living room quickly before copying your earlier actions. At the top of the stairs, you were rummaging through his linen closet, muttering about the dust. “Y/n, I said wait.” “Why? I want to get it set up now so I don’t have to do it when I’m tired.”
“Because we’re going to sleep together? Like I did when I slept over at your house?” The blood in your body must’ve all simultaneously stopped flowing because your fingers went cold and you became rigid. “W-What? Donghyuck, we’re not eight anymore. We’re eighteen.” But the aforementioned boy didn’t pay attention to your words as he plopped onto his bed, mocking you. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m eighteen seconds from forcing you to sleep on the ground if you don’t climb in here right now.” His sass covered up his pounding heart.
One glance at his side profile, and you were convinced. You slid into the blanket that was he cuddled in, wincing every time your skin brushed his. He had to have noticed your awkwardness.
But, if he did, he didn’t say anything. It was quiet. His room was dimly lit and the moon danced outside the window as the cicadas hummed their enchanting tunes. It was official, you noticed, Donghyuck was out of his prime time. It was no longer a golden honey paste painted across the skies, but instead a cool dark-toned black and blue painting, splotches of white catching your attention. Despite the change of environment, you had never felt more tranquil than laying next to the love of your life.
Donghyuck was freaking out. He hoped you couldn’t hear the songs his heart was singing. He hated it. He hated this feeling. He didn’t want to feel this way for you. He didn’t want to love you. Love meant vulnerability. It meant communication and working things out when they got hard. It meant being honest with your flaws.
After a few more minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence, you reached behind you and turned off your light, ready to sleep. But at that moment, Donghyuck opened his mouth. Internally, he cursed himself. Was it the haze of sleepiness the moon cast over him that caused his heart to feel so pliable? He’d think about it later because right now he was finally letting go. Finally being himself.
“You know, I hate the moon?” The piece of information was familiar to you, so you nodded, hoping he could tell through his closed eyes. All of a sudden. he looked up, his eyes staring straight at yours like gorgeous ebony daggers. How ironic that he hated night, when his eyes looked like all the stars were twinkling within them. “Do you know why I hate it?” You kept silent, the look in your eyes urging him on.
He turned back onto his back, staring up at his empty ceiling. He loathes this vulnerable and open feeling. Why was he talking to you right now? Why were you scooting closer and placing your head on his chest? Why was he allowing it? Why does he like it? “The moon is really barren. It’s just a gray surface littered with scars. Looking at it, I feel sick. The moon is... it’s vulnerable. If an asteroid crashes on the moon, it leaves a scar on the surface forever. It can never be healed or erased, even with time. But,” You heard him swallow, “The sun isn’t like that. The sun,” He sounded in awe, his indifferent and even disgusted voice he had when talking about the moon dissipating into wonder. “is strong. Nothing can hurt the sun. It commands attention and even mocks you as it does so because you can’t stare directly at it. You can’t get to close without getting hurt. It’s protecting itself.” His eyes were glimmering, and you couldn’t help but listen and stare.
“If an asteroid hit the sun; it wouldn't make a dent. The sun would just swallow it -- unbothered. Plus, the sun is so beautiful. It’s a marble of strength with reds, yellows, and oranges dancing only for the sun. The explosions put on little shows for the sun’s eyes only.” He stops talking for a minute, seemingly collecting his thoughts.
“The sun is like honey. It captures you; it captivates you. Once it has you in its grasp, you can never leave. It’s,” A smile broke out onto his face, one you had never seen before in all your years of knowing the boy. “enchanting. I want to be just like the sun.”
You didn’t say anything after that, because he dozed off. Little breaths left his mouth, and you laid there, thinking. If there was any Lee Donghyuck that you were in love with, it was the perfect golden sun version he described. Not the gloomy barren one who barely gave you glanced in the hallways in school.
Maybe the sun was better than the moon. The moon has so many imperfections; the sun is perfect. It’s warm and inviting. Donghyuck is just like the sun. He’s perfect.
He’s perfect. Was all you thought as you drifted off into dreamland yourself, satisfied with your conclusion that there was no imperfection on Donghyuck’s existence. You wouldn’t accept otherwise. It didn’t make sense otherwise.
(Could you not see his sunspots, Y/n? Because you’re about to.)
///
DOnghyuck had stopped talking to you the second you stepped out of the doorway to his house. That morning had been sweet, he told you good morning in a quiet voice and made you pancakes with cinnamon in them, he knew they were your favorite.
Your heart had pounded the whole weekend, anticipating Monday. Would he walk with you to school? Maybe even wait for you after school? Would he finally introduce you to his friend group? You didn’t know, but your smile was etched onto your face like plaster. Saturday was canceled, though, because he had to pick his parents up from the airport, but that was okay. You’d get to see him Monday.
And when the morning came, he wasn’t home. Apparently, he left early for the club, his mom had told you. You nodded and frowned at her words, turning on your heels and walking to school with a slightly downtrodden face. You still have the afternoon! Don’t worry! The angel in the back of your head assured you, replacing that frown with a toothy grin before you entered your classroom doors.
Yet, here was the end of the day, and here you were at your locker, taking books out to bring home with you, sighing. You hadn’t seen him at all. Maybe he was just slipping your slight, but a scary feeling in your stomach rose. Was he avoiding you?
“Hey, Y/n.”
The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you turned around, “Jaemin, you scared me.” A chuckle left the boy's lips, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just wanted to say hi.” You closed your locker, turning your body to fully face him. “Sure you did; nice to see you again, Jaemin. Is there something you need?”
The pretty boy’s brows furrowed, “Ah, yes, actually. Um, did you say something to Haechan recently? He’s been acting weird all day.”
“He’s here today! I didn’t see him at all! Is he okay? The last time I saw him was Saturday morning when I left his house.” Jaemin’s face looked shocked, “I stayed over for a sleepover, nothing else.” You laughed, shaking your head at the boy. “O-Oh, I knew that.” He tried.
“I just thought you said something to him because he’s had a dazed look in his eyes all day. His responses in the group chat are really dry, too.” You pursed your lips, “He doesn’t text me, so I don’t know what you’re talking about. He was fine when I left Saturday morning.”
“Alright then. Anyway, I was wondering if--”
“Hey, Y/n. Jaemin?” The voice that melted your heart for ten years appeared beside you, scaring the daylights out of Jaemin, who clutched his heart before sighing out loud. “Dude, you could’ve said something.”
“I did, though?” Donghyuck smirked, one hand gripping the straps of his backpack before looking at you.
“Y/n.”
“Hyuck.” You both spoke at the same time, Haechan’s eyes glimmered, and he ushered you to speak first, something he’d never done before. “Donghyuck,” your eyes traced his subtle features, landing back at his eyes. “What you said on Friday...you’re like the sun, you really are. Honey-like skin and all. You’re perfect, Donghyuck. ”
Donghyuck swore that his blood stopped flowing in his body. He felt his smile fall and his facial muscles tense, his fingers tightened around his bag before he scoffed, blinking a few times to make sure he was processing your words properly. You thought he was perfect? Did you not even listen to him on Friday?
One look back at your shining eyes, he knew the answer. You didn’t. Of fucking course, you didn’t. How could he ever expect you to understand him when all you’ve proven is that you’re blindly and stupidly in love with him? How could you understand him when he never let down his walls for you? Hell, even when he did, you never understood.
“You're pathetic.” The unfamiliarly venomous words leave his mouth before he can think them over in his head. You blink back in shock, confused. Hurt. “Excuse me? W-What?”
“I said -- you’re pathetic. You must be a fucking mole rat to be that blind. You don’t know shit about me.” His insults kept spilling out of his mouth, both you and Jaemin sitting there shocked. When he was finally done, you were still standing there, in front of your locker, processing his hurtful words.
What the hell? You were mad. Scratch that, you were livid. You had been by his side for so long, yet he had the nerve to call you pathetic? But you were so confused too because he had spilled his guts to you on Friday. He had called you his best friend, he had made flower crowns with you for almost every Saturday for the past decade. He had kissed you. He had fucking kissed you.
Your state of mind was still frozen, but you managed a few words to get out while you dwelled on his hatred. Your gaze was still trained on the ground, unfocused and blurry. “Why did you kiss me, Donghyuck?” Donghyuck thought your voice sounded strangely calm, but one look at your face and he knew what was going on in your head was anything but.
Glazed-over wet eyes, a tense jaw, red cheeks (from embarrassment and hurt, he guessed), erratic breathing, nervously fingering the straps on your bag. You weren’t calm. Were you hurt? Shocked? Pensive, rethinking every moment you’ve ever known him? Donghyuck didn’t know what effect his words had on you this time. Part of him wanted to break out into a blinding smile and tell you he was joking, and then go back to never talking to you again. Cancel the Saturdays. Move out of the house. Move to another country. Another continent. Pretend like he never knew you. His words hurt you, yes, he knew that much, but your words dug into his heart like the daggers dragging on a stone wall, forever etching a scar.
Why did Donghyuck kiss you? The answer was simple in your mind -- he had been drunk that day. He had been drinking vodka, anyway, he had reeked of illegal drinking. But drunk actions were truthful thoughts, you believed. So you held onto that frayed string of hope, clutching on for dear life, praying -- that he liked you like you loved him.
Why did Donghyuck kiss you? The answer was complicated in his mind -- he had never loved you before. Hell, he had never loved anyone before. He just wanted to kiss you to win a bet and, like the stupid highschool boy he was, he did just that. Stole your first kiss. At some point after that, probably when you stopped spending as much time with him, he realized that you had left a mark on his heart. He hated it; he hated the thought of liking you. But absence had made his heart grow fonder. A year and a half after the kiss, he was ‘in like’ with you, maybe even in love. He spilled his guts to you that Friday night, hoping you’d get him. Hoping you’d nurse his wounds, his scars of insecurity. Hoping that you’d accept him, moon and all. He held onto that frayed string of hope, clutching on for dear life, praying - that you’d get him like he hoped you did.
But alas, even after a decade of golden Saturdays spent together, you didn’t get him like he had hoped. And he didn’t like you the way you loved him. Then again, he never really let you in to meet the real him. But you never really knocked on the door to his heart either.
He didn’t know how to respond. But one look at the stance Jaemin was taking -- crossing his arms with raised brows behind you, your own tears pooling at your waterline -- he decided.
He decided anger. “God, I don’t know! Can you stop asking me such dumb questions? I was just curious Y/n! God, fuck! I don’t know!” Donghyuck ruffled his hair, irritated.
“Haechan,” Jamin’s nostrils flared, breath hot with hatred, “you know. You know, Haechan.” Your eyes darted over to Jaemin, dazed, then back to Donghyuck, weary. “Fine!” He exasperated, “there was a bet that I couldn’t kiss a random girl at the party. No one knew that I knew you, so I asked you to come with. I was drunk, okay. I- I wasn’t thinking straight.” The truth scraped his tongue on the way out; he felt guilty, taking your first kiss, taking a picture for proof, and then acting like nothing ever happened. He was sure he had broken your heart then. But he didn’t care at that time.
“Some random girl? You--” You paused, a painful and breathy laugh leaving your mouth, “You’ve never thought of me as anything more than a freak, have you Donghyuck? I was your embarrassment, wasn’t I? I was your dirty little secret you used for your fucking insecurities, wasn’t I?” The words attacked Donghyuck, and he hated it. He hated them because they were true.
“You’re overreacting! It was just a kiss!” He yelled, trying to defend what was left of his shriveling dignity. The devil on his shoulder urged him on -- that you really were overreacting. That you should’ve never fallen in love with him in the first place; that it was all your fault for not understanding him.
“It wasn’t just a kiss Donghyuck! I’ve loved you for years! Can’t you tell?” Salty tears dripped down your face, leaving cold tracks of water in their wake. The boy in front of you clenched his fists. “Actually, don’t answer that. You knew. You just used me. You always kept just enough hope to keep me going. Just enough. Well, Haechan. Fuck you, hope you’ve got what you’ve wanted.” The name his other friends called him felt weird coming from you, and he visibly winced at the way you spat out a distant name. There was a swell of pride deep in your soul, that he was getting a taste of his own medicine.
“YOU CAN’T JUST BLAME ME! You never tried to understand me either! I was just a perfect boy with no flaws to you! Do you know how that feels?” No, you didn’t. He was right in that sense. You had never really noticed his flaws, he was a blurred photo to you. He was beautifully perfect in the still moment, but in real life, he was just like any other person. You had to admit, your obsession with his love had blinded you. And that wasn’t fair to him.
But neither was leading you on for years.
“THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU LEAD SOMEONE ON FOR A DECADE!” Silence fell over you two, Jaemin shifting in discomfort behind you. You’d forgotten he was there.
“I--” He started to yell, stopping. “But I liked you too.” He thought to himself, digging his nails in his palm to stop the words. “I don’t get you.” Calmly, he fixed his bag on his shoulder, turning to leave. His feet kept going. One. Two. One. Two. Walk straight ahead, don’t look back.
He heard you scoff behind him, “Likewise, you bastard.”
The sun, look at it. Be like the sun, consume what hurts you, and move on. Donghyuck gulped, your words exploding against his heart like sun flares blazing against the surface of the star. Tears finally fell on his honey face. Donghyuck was sweaty, hot, and emotional. He felt sticky, he felt disgusting. He just wanted to get home and take a shower, wash off the memories of the decade he had known you. Watch them whirl around the drain, never to be seen again. He wanted to forget ever knowing you.
///
Months had passed, the school year ended, giving way to summer. Graduation went smoother than expected. You walked the stage with confidence, you personalized cap and gown making people marvel. There was a moon on your hat, and on your heart. You had always preferred the moon to the sun, anyway.
Saturdays took a while to get used to. It was lonely for a while. That was, until Jaemin had invited you to hang out. You had thought about declining, but in a moment of disregard for your moping self, you had accepted. You asked if he was still friends with Haechan, and he smiled.
“Yeah, it’s a little tense though. But it’ll make you happy to know that he’s changing for the better.” It did make you happy. Bitterly so, though, because it took breaking your heart for a decade to teach him a lesson.
Then, later, you declined Jaemin’s date. He was bouncing his knee, timidly asking to take you out, and not as friends. You bit your lip, apologizing, you weren’t ready. He understood. He walked you home, and you gave him a smile in return.
///
Walking into your room, you sighed. You had spent little time in your room since your fight with Haechan, everything reminded you of him in here. Most of your time spent was in the living room, lounging on the couch, working on college applications at the dining table.
You glanced at the boxes in the corner of your room, they were begging you to hurry and pack up your things for college next week. You decided to listen to them and not procrastinate, picking a box up and opening your drawers, folding clothes neatly in the small space.
Daylight was shifting into a golden spray, your room turning hues of orange and yellow. Suddenly, the barrenness of your room became apparent. The clutter was less now, and few things caught your eye.
One of the things was the glass-framed milkweed flower crown hanging across from your bed. You sighed, it slipped your mind that milkweed was poisonous.
Your heart squeezed as you stood on your bed to take it down, holding it in your hands for a few seconds, admiring how the plant was still clinging onto green when it hadn’t touched water in years. Softly, you threw the flower on your bed. Taping up the last of the boxes you were taking with you, you picked up one last small box.
///
“Tell me if you need anything, sweetie!” Your mom called out, she had always been jolly. Donghyuck loved your family. He loved how blissfully unaware they were of your and his relationship, or friendship, if you could call it that anymore. Donghyuck felt strange standing in your empty room. Apparently, you had left that morning for college, wanting to drive on your own. Your parents were going to meet you up there with the rest of your stuff.
Donghyuck had visited your house under the disguise that he had left something in your room that he was wanting to take to college with him. There wasn’t, he just wanted to see your room (and possibly, you) one last time before he left. Disappointment had flushed through him when he was told you were gone already, but there was also relief. What would he have said to you, anyway? Sorry? That was like putting a bandaid on a gaping wound.
It felt like it was missing something. He took notice of the missing frame that used to hang above your bed. He huffed, not focusing on the pinch his heart was experiencing. His gaze landed on a brown box that sat on your sheet-less bed. Curiosity got the best of him, and he made his way towards the middle of the room. His hand hesitated before taking the lid off the box.
Donghyuck saw the hoodie he gave you that one day when you were eleven when you started to cry about him asking you to go home early because his friends were coming over. He had given you the hoodie to stop your loud ugly sobbing, and to keep the other boy’s attention from seeing the evidence of you and him making flower crowns.
Donghyuck saw the polaroid of you and him kissing during on that cold night that one day when you were sixteen. He could make out the smile behind the kiss and his red ears that blended into the monochromatic red and orange splotches, though it could've been easily mistaken for a drunken hue.
Donghyuck saw the glass frame with the flower crown he gave you that one day ten years ago. His heart tightened before bursting with emotions he didn’t know he had. Regret. Sorrow. Desperation.
Finally, his gaze landed on an orange sticky note stuck to the very bottom of the box with messy words scribbled onto it that read, ‘golden hour doesn’t last forever.’ His tears fell onto the glass frame, the wetness slowly slipping off the edge of the clear crystal like honey and onto the dusty and scuffed wooden floors.
’Why am I crying?’ He thought. He fiddled with the glass frame one last time before rushing out the memory-filled house. Dashing back into his own abode, he ignored the corner of his yard that stared back at him like a bitter ex-lover. It was overgrown now, having not been touched for months. Green vines growing onto the white table you two used to sit at, the milkweeds prospering in the dingy corner that was always a few degrees cooler than the rest of the grassy yard.
Oh Donghyuck, it’s because you loved her.
///
#haechan#haechan fluff#haechan angst#haechan smut#nct dream#nct#nct haechan#nct dream haechan#nct haechan angst#nct dream haechan angst#nct angst#nct dream angst#nct dream smut#nct smut#lee haechan#lee haechan angst#donghyuck#donghyuck angst#lee donghyuck angst#haechan fanfic#haechan slow burn#slow burn
710 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lukadrien: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Seven
Read it on AO3: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Seven: Return
Adrien was suddenly ten times more grateful for Luka’s arms around him than he had been seconds before. If not for his husband’s support, he was certain he would have collapsed as his mind fogged over and his body went cold.
His father…dead?
Surely there was some mistake. His father wasn’t yet fifty. Adrien had just seen him six months prior when Gabriel announced Adrien’s impending arranged marriage, and Gabriel had been fine, the same as ever.
How could his father be dead?
“—ien. Adrien, can you hear me?” Luka was calling right next to Adrien, but he sounded so far away.
“Is he okay? He’s gone all pasty,” Rose fretted.
“Everyone step back and give him some air,” Anarka instructed. “Luc, lay him down on the couch.”
When the world came back into focus, Adrien found himself stretched out on the seat of the couch, his head pillowed in Luka’s lap, a cool cloth resting on his forehead.
“Hey,” Luka cooed, brushing Adrien’s fringe back out of the way. “Have you come back to me?”
“What happened?” Adrien muttered, finding his tongue slow and lazy, like a piece of rubber in his mouth.
“You just had a bit of a shock, Mon Poisson,” Anarka explained from her station at the end of the wraparound couch. “Nothing to worry about. Everything’s fine.”
“Let me go get you something to drink,” Rose volunteered, rushing to her feet, eager for some useful task to do with her nervous energy.
“My father,” Adrien remembered suddenly, looking to Luka.
His mate grimaced, shaking his head. “Juleka heard from Alya that talk in the city is that the king died yesterday evening.”
“Oh,” Adrien breathed, trying to recall what he had been doing the previous day. “I…I have to…”
“See if you can sit up a little and drink this,” Rose coached, kneeling beside the couch and holding out a glass of blackcurrant tea.
Luka carefully helped Adrien back to vertical and took the cup from Rose, holding it up to Adrien’s lips.
“Thank you,” Adrien directed at them both when he was done. “I need…I think I need to go back.”
Luka’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t protest.
“If that’s what you think you need to do, we support you,” Anarka assured. “Just tell us what you need.”
“What do you mean you need to go back?” Rose demanded with a frightened whine to her voice as she looked around the room in confusion. “That’s not your world anymore.”
Juleka was noticeably silent, sitting on the far end of the couch with her gaze glued to the floorboards, looking visibly shaken herself.
“I can’t abandon my people,” Adrien replied, still half dazed. “I’m their king now. I can’t just turn a blind eye and leave them to fall victim to whatever despot wins their bid for the power grab in my absence. I have to go back.”
“Permanently?” Rose gasped, stricken by the prospect.
“No,” Adrien quickly assured. “No, not permanently. Just for a little while. Just until I can make sure my people will be in good hands.”
Anarka nodded her approval, pride for her newest son coming off of her in waves.
Adrien shakily got to his feet and looked back mournfully at Luka. “I have to go,” he whispered.
Luka gave an indignant snort as he stood and announced, “I know that, Silly. I’m going with you.”
Juleka gave a jerk, finally coming back to awareness. “You’re what?! Luka, you can’t go! There are all those humans! It’s dangerous!”
Luka went over to his sister, giving Adrien’s arm a reassuring pat as he passed. He knelt down in front of Juleka, taking both of her hands in his.
“Jules?” he called softly. “It’s going to be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen. I’m strong, and, even then, Dri will be there to protect me. Right now, my mate needs me by his side, so I have to go, all right?”
She shook her head but didn’t protest. “…Come back soon, okay?”
“As soon as we can,” Adrien promised.
Luka wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t the warm welcome that they received.
Apparently, the prince was well-loved by his subjects. As Luka and Adrien made their way through the city, people swarmed Adrien and wept and shouted in joy when word got around that their prince was alive and well and had been returned to them.
Luka soon began to see why they adored Adrien so much as he observed his mate interacting with the people. Adrien knew their names and asked after their grandchildren, various ailments, and particular hobbies.
“I thought you said you didn’t really have friends,” Luka hummed quietly once they got away from the crowds. “Your people love you. That woman named her daughter after you. You’re on a first name basis with their pets. It seems like you have many friends among your people.”
Adrien grimaced, replying in a hushed, regret-filled tone. “Can it really be considered friendship when it’s not reciprocal? They’re good, kind people, and talking with them was always the highlight of my day, but they don’t know me, Orpheus.”
Adrien shook his head sadly. “I could never open up and be my true self around them. We’re acquaintances. Friendly acquaintances. Not friends. I couldn’t tell any one of them how much I was suffering, about my attraction to men, about my mother. They love the mask I put on to serve them. They don’t really love me.”
Luka slipped his hand discretely into Adrien’s. “I love you.”
“Yeah,” Adrien chuckled softly, a faint smile coming back to his lips. “I’m insanely lucky like that.”
“Not lucky,” Luka corrected. “Just wonderful. Wonderful people deserve wonderful things.”
Adrien gradually came to a stop and turned to look at Luka.
Luka quirked a questioning eyebrow.
“Thank you,” Adrien whispered earnestly.
“You’re welcome. …For what exactly?” Luka’s head tipped to the side.
Adrien shook his head and shrugged, smiling self-consciously. “Loving me. Choosing me. Fighting for me. Coming with me. …I can’t tell you how much I love you. Once again, I’m terrified, and I feel like the earth is crumbling out from under me, but, once again, you’re here to ground me. I don’t know where I would be or what I would do without you.”
Luka squeezed Adrien’s hand gently. “You would figure it out. You’re stronger and smarter and braver than you give yourself credit for…but I’m happy to be here to support you so you don’t have to be.”
Adrien reined in the urge to throw his arms around his husband and kiss Luka silly right then and there on a public street where anyone could see them. Instead, he squeezed Luka’s hand back.
“Thank you, Orpheus.”
Once they got to the palace, Adrien politely asked some of the guards to round up various advisors and have them meet in the King’s study.
“Doing okay?” Luka whispered as the monolithic obsidian door closed behind them, sealing them inside the austere, monochrome library.
Adrien blew out a sigh, going over to stand at the head of the long, glass table where Gabriel’s documents were still spread out.
“I don’t know yet,” Adrien answered honestly, resting his palms on the surface and leaning forward to stare down at the scattered papers. “I don’t think it’s really hit me yet. I’m still…struggling to process.”
Luka came over to Adrien’s side and rested a supportive hand on his back, beginning to rub comforting circles. “It’s okay. Just…hang in there. And let me know if you need anything. I’m here for you, but I don’t want to step on any toes or get in your way. I don’t know how your world works,” Luka explained sheepishly, “so I’ll just take a backseat role and follow your lead. Please tell me if there’s anything you need me to do, all right?”
“Thanks. Thank you, My Love. I will,” Adrien assured with profound gratitude as he straightened up and stepped in to press his lips to Luka’s.
The study door opened to reveal a wide-eyed Nathalie, and Adrien wasn’t certain if the cause of her surprise was that she had caught the tail end of Adrien and Luka’s kiss or if it were just his sudden appearance after six months of absence.
“Nathalie,” he breathed, breaking away from Luka.
“Your Highness,” she replied formally with a bit of a bow.
Adrien rolled his eyes, rushing over to her to envelope her in a fierce hug. “Is that any way to address a child you raised?” he scoffed into the high neck of her gown.
She smiled faintly, loosely wrapping her arms around him, patting him on the back. “Adrien,” she corrected. “I’m grateful for your safe return. The palace has been so bleak without you these past six months.”
“I missed you too,” he confessed, pulling back with a smile. “Nathalie, meet Luc.” He turned to his husband, holding out a hand for Luka to come over and take.
Obediently, Luka went to Adrien’s side, slipping his hand into his mate’s.
“Luc, this is Nathalie, my father’s…everything. I believe I’ve mentioned her?” Adrien looked up at him questioningly.
Luka nodded. “She was the one who helped your mother raise you and see to your education, right?” He turned to face Nathalie and bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Nathalie responded with an answering bow.
“Nathalie,” Adrien continued nervously, “This is Luc…my husband.”
To her credit, the sum total of Nathalie’s reaction to this news was a single blink. “…Well. I believe congratulations are in order.”
Adrien instantly relaxed, the tension draining from his body and making it feel like gelatin. “Thank you,” Adrien sighed, almost breaking into tears of relief.
“You’re welcome,” Nathalie replied neutrally, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “A word of advice: It would probably be best to issue a royal proclamation legalizing same-sex marriage. Shall I arrange it?”
Adrien blinked. “Oh. Yes, please.”
“Now?” She cocked her head to the side slightly. “It might be prudent before you introduce your husband to anyone else.”
“Yes,” Adrien decided, not wanting to chance getting Luka arrested and executed. “Please. Thank you, Nathalie.”
She was only gone five minutes before returning to announce, “Everything is in order. They’ll start announcing the new proclamation any time now.”
“Thank you,” Adrien repeated, motioning for them to move over to the armchairs and sofa positioned around a coffee table in front of the massive fireplace. “Shall we sit while we talk? I’ve probably missed a lot over the past few months.”
“You have,” Nathalie affirmed, taking one of the armchairs.
Adrien tugged Luka along to sit on the sofa beside him. “Nathalie, what happened?” Adrien entreated once they were settled. “My father…?”
Nathalie’s gaze dropped to her folded hands in her lap, a pained expression wrinkling the corners of her mouth and eyes. “Your father…”
Luka took in how pale and sick she looked. Standing, Nathalie had been a tall, solid, commanding presence. Her erect posture still gave her some gravity, even while sitting, but she looked smaller, more tired in the chair.
“…He drowned,” she finished softly.
Adrien slumped into Luka who gave him a bolstering squeeze.
“Drowned?” Adrien whispered breathlessly. “…Like my mother?”
Nathalie pursed her lips, debating how to answer.
Should she tell him how profoundly Adrien’s disappearance had affected his father? How Gabriel had turned even more brooding and withdrawn as the months stretched on without a trace of Adrien? How Adrien’s absence had reopened the wounds caused by Émilie’s death for which Gabriel still blamed himself?
Should she tell him that there had been no sign of a struggle? No sign of foul play? No wound to indicate that Gabriel had hit his head and been unconscious when he’d fallen into the water?
Luka could see the lie forming before Nathalie spoke it.
“It was an accident,” she reported. “He went for a walk out in the gardens near the reflecting pool. As best as we can tell, he must have slipped and fallen in. An accident,” Nathalie repeated, trying to sell the story.
“Oh,” Adrien breathed. “I…I’m so sorry.”
Nathalie shook her head. “Why are you apologizing, Adrien? This isn’t your fault.”
Luka could tell that she didn’t blame Adrien at least, no matter how Adrien’s absence had affected his father’s mental state.
“This is no one’s fault,” she stressed. “Accidents happen. All we can do is carry on.”
“Yes,” Adrien agreed softly, regaining some of his composure. “I just…You must be…” He shook his head, trying to clear his muddled thoughts. “I can’t imagine losing Luc…so I’m sorry. I’m sorry your grief can’t even be publicly acknowledged.”
Luka schooled his face into a non-reactive mask of neutrality. As much as Adrien had talked about Nathalie as a second mother and her role raising him, Luka hadn’t connected the dots concerning her relationship with the king.
A soft half-smile quirked Nathalie’s lips. “Thank you, Adrien, but your acknowledgement is the only one that’s ever mattered.”
She went on to abruptly change subjects, pushing aside her still raw feelings and filling Adrien in concerning events at court while he had been gone.
During Nathalie’s report, several stout, balding men came in. Luka was not introduced, but he picked up on their names during the course of the conversation: Bourgeois, Raincomprix, and Damocles. They appeared to be noblemen who had served closely under King Gabriel, and it seemed that they had known Adrien his entire life, for, as much respect as they made a pretense of showing, they didn’t seem to take Adrien very seriously. It reminded Luka of the people back home who still treated him like a child even now that he was grown because they had minded him for Anarka when he was little and couldn’t think of him any other way.
Luka half paid attention as Bourgeois, Raincomprix, and Damocles took turns speaking to Adrien about various official matters (with Nathalie often interrupting to clarify or correct things that the men were saying).
Adrien, on the other hand, devoted his full concentration to what he was being told, absorbing it in much the same way as he had hung on every word Anarka said to him when she was explaining government affairs.
So focused on the matter at hand was Adrien that he didn’t seem to notice when two young people slipped quietly into the room. One was a tall, tanned man about Adrien’s age in a guard’s uniform.
Luka supposed this to be Adrien’s best friend Nino, as he recalled Adrien asking for him to be sent to the study along with the advisors.
The other was a young woman with milky skin, obsidian black hair, and piercing cerulean eyes. Marinette, Luka’s mind supplied, Adrien’s seamstress and close confidante.
Adrien had failed to mention how unspeakably gorgeous Marinette was. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed, not being attracted to women. Luka thought this a shame, even though he had personally benefitted from Adrien’s oversight. The girl was lovely and much deserving of admiration.
Luka mentally slapped himself as he remembered how deliriously happy he was in his marriage. There was no need for his eyes or his thoughts to rove when he already had Adrien.
“Then we’ll arrange for the coronation ceremony to be held tomorrow,” announced the man whose chin had fused with his neck (Bourgeois, Luka thought).
“I’ll have the King’s chambers prepared for you, so that you can rest and refresh yourself from your journey, Your Majesty,” the squat man with untamed facial hair offered with a bow (Luka thought his name was Damocles). “I’ll also ask the servants to prepare a guestroom for your friend.”
Adrien frowned. “That will not be necessary. Are my chambers as I left them?”
There was a collective wince, and the noblemen shared glances, hoping that one of the others would bite the bullet and break the news to the new king.
In the end, Nathalie was the one who replied, “Your father was much upset by your disappearance. When you had been gone two months, he had your things disposed of. Your former rooms are now being used as storage.”
“I see,” Adrien replied tersely, clearly displeased and disappointed but not surprised.
He turned to Luka, explaining, “My father pushes the things that upset him away and tries to make them disappear. After my mother died, he walled up her chambers for a little over a year before I persuaded him to unseal the rooms.”
Luka nodded, recalling some of the stories Adrien had told Luka about his father and his maladaptive coping behaviors.
Adrien turned back to his advisors and sighed, “Very well. Please prepare a guestroom for us for the night. We’ll see about long-term arrangements tomorrow.”
Damocles blinked, casting a sidelong glance at Bourgeois and Raincomprix.
Raincomprix, a redhead with rapidly thinning hair that he was attempting to hide with a combover, cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, the guestrooms are not fit for a king. Please allow us to have the servants prepare the King’s chambers. We’ll see to it that your friend is very comfortably situated in our finest guestroom.”
Adrien’s eyes narrowed as he fast lost patience with the bureaucracy. “I will not be sleeping in my father’s bed. If you must, please prepare my mother’s chambers, and Luc and I will sleep there.”
The three advisors shared another baffled look before Damocles helpfully informed, “There’s only one bed, Your Majesty?”
Adrien gave a snort. “Perfect. I usually share a bed with my husband.”
Luka tried not to laugh at the flummoxed expressions the men were making, and he wasn’t the only one. Adrien was doing a good job keeping a straight face as he messed with his advisors, but Nino and Marinette had their hands over their mouths, battling against the threatening giggle fit.
Luka was pleased to see that his mate’s friends looked delighted at the announcement of Adrien’s marriage.
Nathalie too was attempting to keep her expression blank, but her lips quivered slightly, fighting a smile.
“Your Majesty,” Bourgeois chuckled amicably, trying to make Adrien see reason. “You cannot have a husband. Our laws forbid it.”
“Actually, My Lord,” Nathalie interrupted, “His Majesty the King has issued a proclamation legalizing same-sex marriage.”
Marinette caught Luka’s eye as her hands fell to her sides, her jaw dropping and tears of astonished joy starting to bead in the corners of her eyes.
“His Majesty can have a husband as of approximately half an hour ago,” Nathalie concluded.
“Even still,” Raincomprix broke in, huffing in discombobulation. “They can’t be married already if the proclamation is only thirty minutes old.”
“We’ve been married six months,” Adrien informed with authority. “Luc’s mother, the local clan leader of the fae of the nearby enchanted forest, performed the ceremony.”
The air seemed to freeze as the three advisors slowly slid their gazes to Luka in horror, registering the word “fae” as one man. Collectively holding their breath, they stepped back conspicuously.
Luka couldn’t contain a snicker.
The advisors flinched at the noise.
Meanwhile, Nathalie rolled her eyes at the grown men acting like frightened children.
Luka was sorely tempted to drop his glamour and let them see just how otherworldly his appearance truly was. He imagined them screaming and jumping into each other’s arms after seeing how icy blue Luka’s eyes were, how turquoise his hair, how shimmering his skin.
Bourgeois seemed to regain his wits first. He swallowed hard and gently replied, “Your Majesty, I’m afraid that we do not recognize fairy marriages as legally binding.”
“And the servants will be scandalized,” Damocles added hastily, looking like he was trying not to imagine Luka and Adrien making love and failing, “an unwed couple sharing a bed.”
Adrien turned to Nathalie. “Am I able to issue a proclamation about acknowledging fae marriages as legal?”
She nodded. “Yes, but, for appearances’ sake, it might be best if Your Majesty were to have a marriage ceremony performed before the coronation tomorrow. Since same-sex marriage is new to many people, it may help them see it as official if their king were to go through the ceremony as an example.”
Adrien began to nod, seeing her point.
“…It may also help other same-sex couples have their marriages seen as legitimate if the king goes first,” she added.
Adrien turned to Luka. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you came here for, but…would you be willing to go through a wedding ceremony with me?”
Luka reached up and cupped Adrien’s face, leaning in to nuzzle his husband’s hair. “I came here to support you in whatever way you needed support, and I will happily marry you as many times as you like.”
“Thank you,” Adrien chuckled happily, pressing his forehead to Luka’s before drawing back and turning to Nathalie. “Thank you, Nathalie. Could you please make the arrangements?”
“Right away, Your Majesty,” Nathalie responded with a seated bow.
“Wait,” Raincomprix chimed in, looking to Bourgeois and Damocles for support. “We’re not going to crown the fairy too, are we?”
Adrien turned to Luka who shrank a bit, scrunching his nose in distaste. “I really would rather that you didn’t, unless it was absolutely necessary. I have strong opinions about monarchies, and I’d rather not participate in one any more than I already have by being married to a king.”
Adrien looked at Nathalie who frowned, considering.
“…It might be best if we do crown your spouse,” she decided after some thought. “It would lend your union a feeling of legitimacy. After all, female spouses of kings are crowned beside their husbands. I think it’s important that we set a precedent that Luc is every bit the equal of a female spouse.”
Adrien turned to Luka for approval.
Luka sank lower on the couch, grumbling, “Fine. Nothing too ridiculous, though. Just give me a simple circlet.”
“Wait,” Raincomprix protested. “Are we really going to give this fairy a title?”
Adrien shot up to his feet and glared the balding redhead down, hissing, “This fairy, as you call him, is my husband, and he outranks you both in this kingdom and in his own land where his mother is ruler. You will show him respect, or you will learn the hard way that I am my father’s son.”
The implied threat was given extra weight by the fact that Adrien’s eyes had begun to flash a glowing, toxic green in his anger.
Raincomprix fell over backwards, landing hard on his rump.
“…Very good,” Bourgeois agreed, clasping his hands, leaning in, and ducking his head slightly as he did when he cajoled his daughter Chloé. “Now that that’s settled, may I ask what title we are to call your esteemed spouse by, Your Majesty?”
Adrien sank back down onto the couch, wrapping his arm possessively around Luka’s shoulders. “That’s…a good question,” he confessed.
Luka tipped his head towards Adrien. “What would you call me if Adrien were female?”
Damocles and Bourgeois looked at one another in puzzlement.
Nathalie frowned. “I know there is a word for it. Forgive me. I’m coming up blank at the moment.”
“Prince Consort,” Marinette spoke up, making everyone but Luka, Nino, and Nathalie jump. “A reigning queen’s husband is a ‘prince consort’.”
“Marinette!” Adrien trilled with glee as he spotted his friends. “Nino!”
“Your Majesty,” Marinette replied with a wide smile and a deep curtsey.
“Majesty,” Nino echoed with a smirk and a bow.
Adrien looked to Nathalie. “It sounds like we’re all set here. We’ll have the wedding and the coronation tomorrow evening. …Has my father already been entombed?”
Nathalie nodded wearily. “This afternoon.”
“I see,” Adrien sighed solemnly. “I’ll have to go visit him and Mother later, then…. Thank you, Nathalie. Is there anything else we need to discuss before Luc and I settle in for the night?”
“Sleeping arrangements?” Damocles inquired cautiously, afraid of awakening Adrien’s wrath.
Adrien rolled his eyes, heaving a tired exhale. “Prepare my mother’s rooms for me and my father’s rooms for Luc until we’re officially married so that we don’t…how did you phrase it? ‘Scandalize the servants’?”
“Very good, Your Majesty,” Damocles replied happily as he gave a little bow, satisfied with the outcome.
“I’ll make a list of the tasks that need to be accomplished for the wedding and the coronation and then assign duties,” Nathalie announced.
“Please let me know if you need any help,” Adrien urged. “I know things have probably been overwhelmingly busy with my father’s unexpected passing, and I don’t want to pile all of this extra work on you.”
Nathalie’s lips spread into a thin smile as she shook her head. “Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty, but I can manage. I think it’s best for me to keep busy. I’ll let you know if there are any issues, though.”
“Thank you, Nathalie,” Adrien repeated warmly before turning to Bourgeois. “Luc and I will sup in Father’s rooms tonight. Please have the kitchen send up dinner in an hour and a half.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Bourgeois replied, clicking his heels together and bowing at the waist.
“Everyone except Nino and Marinette is dismissed,” Adrien decreed with a polite nod of his head. “Thank you, everyone.”
Nathalie and the advisors filed out, and, as soon as the study door closed, Adrien sprang to his feet and ran to his friends.
#Lukadrien#Miraculous Ladybug#Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction#Adrien Agreste#Luka Couffaine#Fae AU#Fae Luka#Prince Adrien#Fluff#Hurt/Comfort#Emotional Support#Mikau's Writings#Among the Wild Things
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
breaking the circle.
a/n: i don’t claim to know everything about how parental relationships work, but family is family whatever form it comes in. Single parents included. Found family included. Friends included. Show some love to the people in your life who helped make you, you. And know that your past doesn’t define you. <3
summary: five moments in beca’s life. devolution, evolution, and everything in between.
word count: 2072
also read on AO3.
one.
When Beca is little, she crawls into her parent’s bed. It is her mother who holds her first - her mother who first picks her up off the ground and guides her safely into bed.
Nothing feels safer than lying in between her parents - lying between the two people she trusts more in the world.
When she wakes, it’s with bleary eyes always and her stuffed bear is somewhere near the floor. Her vision clears to her father leaning over her and grinning before he picks her up and swings her around to the faint protest of her mother claiming that she needs to get ready for school.
Beca falls asleep to her mother and wakes to her father – and that’s how it is for as long as she can remember.
It’s safe and consistent. It’s gratitude and love.
It’s everything a child could ask for.
two.
The first time Beca wakes to nothingness is the day after her father leaves her mother. When she cracks open her eyes, she feels all the aches in her bones, like she was hit by multiple sledgehammers.
She spent the night crying, but she did so alone because it felt wrong to crawl into bed with her mother to fall asleep - her mother who spent a large portion of the night asking her father to stay.
Tentatively, Beca flips back her own covers and makes her way to her mother’s room. She can hear sniffling. She feels helpless for the first time, without the strength of the parents’ joint love and with trembling hands, she pushes open her mother’s door.
It feels different, waking up to her mother in this state.
Beca blinks and slowly crawls onto the bed - onto the empty space in a suddenly vast and sprawling bed.
Her mother says nothing for the longest time, so Beca reaches out to hold her hand.
“It’s going to be okay,” she reassures her own mother.
“It’s going to be okay,” she repeats, wondering if she’s reassuring herself.
two and a half.
“You can tell me anything, you know,” Chloe says softly. She brushes her fingers through Beca’s hair in a soothing manner - a familiar way. It makes Beca’s eyes flutter shut and she quickly presses her nose and mouth against Chloe’s neck before she can do or say anything else.
A part of her thinks Chloe wouldn’t understand. Chloe seems to speak brightly and happily of her own family, though she does so sparsely. But all Beca knows is that Chloe doesn’t come from a broken home. That Chloe and her siblings grew up with a father who never left and a mother who never checked in and out.
But the trust that wells inside her - Beca finds herself blushing under the momentary embarrassment of the intimacy she suddenly wants to share with Chloe. Since they started dating months ago, Beca has opened up steadily to this woman - this woman who manages to find every last crack and insecurity.
(Additionally, the family Beca found in The Bellas is both a gift and a curse. She never has a moment’s rest, but she’ll take that over crippling loneliness any day.)
So Beca thinks she’ll tell Chloe about reconciliation with her father. She thinks she’ll tell Chloe about wanting to have her own family but fearing a repeat shortcoming of her own.
“I know,” Beca murmurs finally.
Chloe’s fingers never cease their stroking through her hair. Steady as their heartbeats, so in sync.
three.
Beca meets Chloe’s family with nervousness settling into the pits of her stomach.
But the nervousness settles into something else.
Chloe’s father is a severe-looking man and Chloe’s mother is all smiles and fluttery eyelids. It’s the most jarring dichotomy Beca has ever seen and she has to blink twice to make sure she’s not imagining it - like she’s not imagining Chloe’s mother is a little too tipsy for mid-day, considering they haven’t sat down for lunch yet. Like she’s not imagining the way Chloe’s father grips her shoulder with surprising force. Force that only Beca can see because Chloe’s entire body seems to stiffen.
“Happy father’s day, daddy,” Chloe says softly, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Beca blinks at the change in Chloe’s attitude and the way her shoulders kind of slump. The delicate way she reaches for Beca’s hand again is so unlike Chloe’s usual confidence and love. The contrast between this and the way Chloe sometimes tugs Beca’s hand out of her pocket forcibly just so she can hold it. “This is my girlfriend, Beca.”
“Nice to meet you, Beca,” Chloe’s father says after the longest, most awkward moment. Beca swallows back excess saliva and tries not to stumble over herself to shake his hand. She’s grateful that he doesn’t immediately break his hand, but he speaks again and she stumbles. “It’s nice to know Chloe’s made some good friends at that school.” His eyes cut to his daughter. “Considering she’s been going there for so long.”
Chloe opens her mouth immediately and Beca sees the emotion warring in her eyes.
Then Chloe closes her mouth, saying nothing and looks away. Beca wonders what kind of dimension she’s stepped into.
Later, after the most horrifyingly awkward and passive aggressive lunch, Chloe ushers Beca upstairs when her brother and sister make themselves scarce into their own rooms. Beca quickly puts as many plates as she can in the sink before Chloe can do so and thinks she catches an appreciative glance from Chloe’s mother, but it’s hard to say with how hard her mother was hitting the wine.
The moment Chloe’s door closes, Beca barely has time to appreciate the soft pastels of Chloe’s room – totally on brand for her girlfriend – when the shouting starts.
It’s faint at first, but grows in volume before it’s steady.
Chloe fiddles with her bedspread awkwardly and tries to smile up at Beca, but it comes out as a little bit of a cringe. Beca can relate completely.
“Chloe, I…” Beca trails off, not sure what to say, do, or ask. So she sits beside Chloe on her bed and holds her hand because she just wants Chloe to know that she’s there.
“Everything’s not what it seems,” Chloe shrugs. Beca sees the briefest flash of pain in Chloe’s eyes - the briefest moment of insecurity as they sit quietly in Chloe’s childhood bedroom. The echoes of screaming float up like the whispers of the loneliest of childhoods.
Two sides of the same coin, Beca thinks.
four.
“We have to talk about this, Bec,” Chloe urges when Beca hesitantly makes her way to bed. Chloe’s eyes track her movements as she removes her wedding rings and places them carefully on the dresser in their usual spot.
Chloe has been wanting to talk about this for months.
‘This’ being the fact that Chloe wants to start a family.
“You’ve been pushing off this conversation,” Chloe continues in a soft, even tone. Beca chews her lip as she turns back the covers on her side of the bed to lie next to her wife. The moonlight dances over Chloe’s features and she looks concerned above all, but Beca can see hints of anxiety creeping from the shadows that dance across her wife’s face.
“I…” Beca finds herself stuck. Like the words just won’t escape her.
“Do you not want children?” Chloe asks, quieter still, but with no hint of judgement or fear. Just the barest hint of sadness.
Beca knows that deep down, she does want children. She had dreamt of it all those years ago when they started dating. Maybe even sooner, if she considers how much she enjoyed seeing Chloe interact with children. Chloe has all the instincts of being a loving, doting parent. Beca can just tell.
But she’s not sure that she shares those instincts. She’s not sure that she has any good model to follow. She can’t bear the thought of being a failure of a parent to her child.
Beyond that, she feels excess fear and anxieties that come from hypothetical questions and comments from their as-yet hypothetical child: where’s my father? Who is my father? Did he leave me? Does he love me?
All the intricacies of navigating the world as two women in love – well, Beca has enjoyed that journey with Chloe. She’d have no other partner. Chloe understands her and loves her through all her faults and shortcomings. And Beca, the same. She loves Chloe’s heart and her forgiving nature. She loves the way Chloe encourages her to see life in color.
She loves Chloe and Chloe loves her.
She’s just–
“I’m scared,” Beca blurts. It tastes bitter and acidic on her tongue. She clears her throat, ready to test out the phrase again. “I’m scared, Chlo,” Beca continues. Chloe says nothing. “I’m scared of not being enough. Of not being present or just there for this baby. Of not being ready. I’m scared - I’m so scared that I’ll do something wrong.”
“Beca,” Chloe says softly, once she’s sure Beca is done speaking. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” Chloe shifts so she’s facing Beca on her side. “It’s normal to feel afraid, you know? I’m scared too. But I want so much to have a family with you because you’re the love of my life and I can’t imagine anybody else I’d want to start a family with.” Her hand reaches out to trace Beca’s cheek, pleased to note there aren’t any tears (yet). “I love you, baby.”
“I don’t want to be like my dad. Or my mom,” Beca says shakily, when she manages to battle back a fresh wave of tears.
“I know,” Chloe says in understanding.
“I just...can’t. I can’t be like them. I don’t want that.”
“I know,” Chloe repeats, softer still. She shifts closer and pulls Beca into her arms, wrapping Beca up in warmth and impossible softness. “You’re not going to be like them.”
“But how do you know,” Beca chokes out.
“Because you’re you,” Chloe says simply. “And you’ve spent your whole life becoming this wonderful woman you are today. The one I married.” Chloe inhales deeply when she feels Beca take a shaky breath. “I married you because I love your resilience and your strength. And I know you’re not going to be like either of your parents - or either of mine for that matter - because you have the biggest heart ever.”
“Not as big as yours,” Beca grumbles, headbutting Chloe in the chest gently.
Chloe pauses. “Well, yeah,” she agrees. She giggles when Beca headbutts her again. “But I’m me and you’re you. And we’re going to figure this out together.”
Beca likes that. “Together,” she repeats, tasting it on her tongue.
She likes that a lot.
five.
Parenting is a journey on its own. Beca can’t say that any book really prepares her for the joy of parenthood.
They decide to adopt and to Beca, it makes the most sense. Her and Chloe and everything about their history. Found family and opening their hearts to people they’ve grown to love.
When they finally get to bring home their daughter – Alanna Nicole Beale-Mitchell – it’s after a long and arduous process. Alanna is nearly four months old by the time they bring her home.
When Beca holds her daughter with the promise of permanency for the first time, every book she read about bonding and parenthood and adoption flies out of her head. And all she can see is the mess of light brown hair atop her daughter’s head and the startlingly green eyes - green eyes that neither Chloe or her have.
“Hi,” Beca says softly. “Hi, my love.”
Chloe looks like she might start crying at any second, but she surprisingly holds herself together long enough to ensure all the paperwork is processed accordingly and everything is legally sound. Beca can’t imagine being able to focus on anything but her daughter.
“I’ve been waiting for you all my life,” Beca says softly, continuing to speak to this baby who doesn’t have a clue what turmoil Beca and Chloe went through.
Chloe steps back to her side, reaching out a finger slowly. To both their delights, Alanna giggles (or gurgles) and grasps Chloe’s finger immediately.
“Ready to go home?” Chloe asks softly.
“Yes,” Beca says.
She’s ready to finally go home.
––––
fin / my fanfic
#bechloe#mine#pitch perfect#fanfiction#my fanfic#beca mitchell#chloe beale#text#pp3#pp#anna kendrick#brittany snow
108 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Three Body Problem: Chapter 9
AO3 | Wattpad | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10
Elytra weren’t allowed during war-related activities, but Grian always kept one in his inventory anyway. It was this Elytra that the Watcher equipped midair. Had they been any less of a talented flier, they probably would have plummeted to their death anyway.
Watcher, stop, tell me what’s wrong, let me help you -
But Grian’s shouts did nothing. The Watcher was completely on autopilot, flying determinedly to some location unbeknownst to Grian. They veered sharply to the left as the beach came into view, and as they flew over the ocean, Grian’s base came into view.
Watcher flew all the way up to the top of the base, the wind drying their tears and burning their skin, then dived down the centre. They pulled up a second too late and tumbled across the floor. Team STAR’s flag tangled up in their limbs.
Watcher, please…
Again, the Watcher ignored them. They untangled themself and made their way over to the entrance to the infinity room. They crawled inside and wrapped their arms around their knees, hiding their face and sobbing.
Grian was at a complete loss for what to do. The Watcher wouldn’t listen to anything he said - didn’t recognize him, even. How was he supposed to help them like this?
But maybe…. The Watcher didn’t recognize Grian, but they might recognize Poultry Man. Did he want to risk going AFK, though? What if the Watcher came back to themself while he was AFK and needed help? He didn’t have any other ideas, though, so AFK it was.
Poult? Can you hear me?
grian? hey! is the war over?
No, but I need your help. Watcher needs help, something’s happened to them. I think they might be having a flashback or something; they don’t even know who I am.
oh my goodness. what can i do?
I’m hoping that hearing you and sensing you will be enough to snap them out of it. They’re in the infinity room right now, though, so I completely understand if you can’t.
Poultry Man hesitated. can you get them to close their eyes?
They were closed when I left, actually.
i can do it, then.
Together, they stopped being AFK. The Watcher’s eyes were still closed.
watcher?
“What? Shut up, shut up, shut up…”
watcher, it’s me, it’s your friend.
“No you are not,” they shouted, slamming their fists on the ground. “Shut up, ∴ᔑℸ ᓵ⍑ᒷ ∷!”
i - hang on, is that galactic?
What’s Galactic?
it’s a language. i learned it in the Void.
I thought you were alone in the Void?
i was. it... it sounds silly, but i learned it from the Void. They cleared their throat. watcher? ↸𝙹 ||𝙹⚍ リᒷᒷ↸ ⍑ᒷꖎ!¡? {do you need help?}
That shocked the Watcher into not crying. “∴ᔑℸ ̣ ᓵ⍑ᒷ∷? ||𝙹⚍ ↸𝙹リ'ℸ ̣ ᓭ𝙹⚍リ↸ ꖎ╎ꖌᒷ ||𝙹⚍∷ᓭᒷꖎ⎓.” {∴ᔑℸ ̣ ᓵ⍑ᒷ∷? You don’t sound like yourself.}
╎'ᒲ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ᒲ||ᓭᒷꖎ⎓. ╎'ᒲ !¡𝙹⚍ꖎℸ ̣ ∷|| ᒲᔑリ. {i’m not myself. i’m poultry man.}
“Poultry Man? But that’s - I’m a Watcher, I’m not a Hermit yet, I -” They curled and uncurled their fingers. “Grian?”
Right here, buddy.
“What’s happening?”
I think you’re having a flashback.
They held up Team STAR’s flag, which has begun to tear at one of the corners. “I was in a war.”
Team STAR and G-Team.
“But… no, no, it wasn’t that. It was us versus them. Me versus… me versus them.”
watcher, were you a soldier?
“No. Yes. Not on purpose.” They hunched over again and wrapped Team STAR’s flag around their hand.. “∴ᔑℸ ᓵ⍑ᒷ ∷ said it wasn’t real. That it was just a game.”
Oh, no, Grian realised. And I told you the same thing.
“Don’t worry,” the Watcher reassured him, “I’m smarter now. I know you were just trying to make me feel better.”
If Grian had been in control of the body, the heart might legitimately have broken. Watcher, I swear to you on all my Elytra that no one is taking the war that seriously. I mean, it’s not even a war, it’s, it’s just a bunch of silly pranks that escalated.
The Watcher’s brow furrowed. “But - but back home it started the same way. Just silly little things. And ∴ᔑℸ ᓵ⍑ᒷ ∷ told me we were going to play a game and we were going to win. But we lost instead and they were all so angry.”
Your side or their side?
“Both.”
it’s not like that this time. Rarely was Poultry Man6 serious, but if ever there was a time he needed to be, it was now. all the hermits are still friends, and they all love each other just as much now as they did before the war.
He’s right. Remember when Ren tried to help us on the roof when he realised something was wrong? He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t care.
The Watcher unwound the flag and stared at it. “I do remember. I - I think -” Their eyes went wide. “I told everyone I’m not you!”
what?!
It’s okay, Grian said quickly, I’ll talk to them about it. I’ll tell them whatever you want me to. If you want me to tell them the truth, if you want me to tell them the truth but make sure they don’t interact with you, if you want me to lie - whatever. I don’t want to force you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.
The Watcher swallowed. “They’re our friends. I think they deserve the truth.”
you up to it? you don’t want to rest first?
“If I don’t do it now, I’ll chicken out.” They stood up and dusted off their pants. “Can I ask everyone to meet in here?”
can you meet in the main room instead? sorry, it’s just…
“Oh my goodness, I completely forgot! Poult, I’m so sorry. Here, let me -” They closed their eyes and fumbled blindly for the exit. “Okay, I’m going to message everyone.”
[can everyone meet me on the bottom floor of grian’s base?]
Almost instantly, Ren messaged them back: [are you okay????]
[we’re fine. Can you meet us here? It’s important.]
[omw]
The Watcher pocketed the communicator and exhaled shakily.
Watcher?
“M’fine.”
In hardly any time at all, every single hermit was gathered on the bottom floor of Grian’s base, waiting for an explanation.
“So…” the Watcher began awkwardly. “I think most of you heard me say that I’m not Grian.”
There was an assortment of nods and mumbles.
“My name is Watcher, and I’m from Evo.”
That elicited some curious whispers. Impulse said, “Evo? Isn’t that Grian’s old world?”
The Watcher nodded. “Yes. I’m one of the Watchers who, well, watched it. Some… some bad things happened, and I was lonely, so I tried to talk to Grian, and now. Well. Now we’re stuck in the same body.”
“Wait a second,” said False. “If you and Grian started sharing a body in Evo, then that means you’ve been in Hermitcraft for as long as Grian has. Why didn’t you tell us you were here?”
Grian’s voice in the back of their mind was soothing. You’ve got this.
“I was afraid something like this would happen - something like the war. I didn’t want any of you to know I was here in case… in case something else bad happened.” The Watcher stood up straighter. “But Grian and Poultry Man helped me understand that this war isn’t really a war, so here I am.”
“Whoa, back up; Grian and Poultry Man?”
“Ah, right. Poultry Man is actually a separate entity from Grian and I. He also shares the body. It’s… a bit crowded.”
“How does that work? Are all three of you in charge at the same time? Or do you have, like, shifts?”
“Only one of us can be in control at once, but the other two can see and hear everything the body sees and hears.”
“Can Grian and Poultry Man hear us now, then?” asked Stress.
“Yes.”
She waved. “Hullo, Grian! Hullo, Poultry Man!”
Hello.
hi!
“They say hello back.”
tell her i like her adopt-a-chick program.
“Poult says he likes your adopt-a-chick program.”
“Aw, thank you.”
The Watcher looked at the flag in their hand and held it out to Doc. “I believe this is yours.”
But Doc shook his head. “You worked hard to earn that flag.”
“But it’s Team STAR’s last flag.”
Doc shrugged. “Guess G-Team won, then.”
“But… you’re not upset that you lost?”
“Why should I be? You said it yourself: this isn’t even a war, really.” He gently pushed the flag away. “Congratulations on your win, G-Team.”
“Who got the flag, anyway?” asked Stress. “Was it you, Grian, or Poultry Man?”
“It was me. I was… a bit overzealous.” They scuffed the floor with their foot and looked down. “It’s lovely to finally talk to all of you, but today has been kind of exhausting, so I’m just going to let Grian take things from here.”
As the Watcher gave Grian control of the body, Grian whispered, Well done, Watcher. I’m proud of you.
Thank you.
#grian#grianmc#hermitcraft#hermitcraft au#evo#minecraft evo#minecraft evolution#watcher!grian#watcher grian#poultry man#minecraft fic#ttbp#whycraft writes#my post#only one more chapter!
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Little Love
Warnings: Single parenthood, mention of years of emotional suppression, mention of years of sexuality suppressions, sex mention. Mentions of family members deaths, orphaned children.
Ship: Logicality
Plot: Logan spent most his teenage years not knowing how to love, But someone, in the form of a mistake he once made, teaches him a lot about what it means to have a heart. Years later, that lesson still continues, and in a very different way, he learns to love again. (Single father!Logan)(Single father!Patton) (Human!AU)
--
He was 19 years old, standing outside a hospital room with his face as white as a sheet. He and the mother had not been on speaking terms for the past nine months, mainly because of him, she was actually a lovely girl for the most part, and if the words “I’m actually gay,” hadn’t come from his mouth maybe there could’ve been more for the two of them.
Except she wanted nothing to do with their “mistake,”. They had talked about adoption, but it was to be finalized after the birth. Logan paces some more until a nurse places a gentle hand on his arm and asks if he could follow her.
People talk about seeing their child for the first time, that it’s a magical experience. Logan had always thought the idea silly, it was after all just a child, children are born every day all over the world that’s not a special thing. But the moment the baby is placed in his arms, he needs to sit down.
She’s so small, with tiny hands and tiny feet, so delicate, and still. Her wide eyes, a deep color of blue much like her father’s, are blinking curiously. Logan feels. That shouldn’t be such a simple statement that carries such weight, but for once he can’t suppress this, the jolt of happiness that runs up his spine, the complete disbelief that this child had somehow been made by two people. Textbooks were one thing, biology another, this, this was something so new.
It takes him a moment to realize he’s crying, holding the baby against his chest like he’d just unlocked the secret to the universe. It takes him another to identify the racing of his heart, the heat in his cheeks and the overwhelming content, as love. He loved this child. “Oh God, I can’t give this baby up,”
His parents weren’t exactly happy, his father had been furious initially, but his mother had immediately sat down with Logan and started to explain what a big deal this was, whether he’d be suitable as a father. “I have to at least try,”
The mother is more than happy for Logan to take responsibility “I’m too young to be a mother,” She says quietly “I don’t even want to see the baby, really, I’m scared I’ll love them,” Logan sits beside her, and she’s startled to see the tear tracks on her face.
“I’m sorry I’ve put you through all this, really I am, you’ve been incredibly strong,” It’s a brief moment to see Logan speak from his heart, a heart that for so long had been so cold. “But maybe one day, when you’re ready, you can come to see her, you don’t have to tell her you’re her mother, that can remain confidential, we can introduce you as a friend or something,”
“Maybe, Logan, but for now, I just want rest,”
He leaves her, she signs papers, he signs papers, and the baby goes home with him.
It takes a while to really, truly warm up. He learns quickly that it’s hard to rationalize with a human that has not yet understood rationality. Logan’s mother helps a lot and shows him how to change diapers, shows him how to feed the baby, and in general is just there as an extra pair of hands. Even when the baby cries, Logan doesn’t lose his temper, no matter his frustrations he never raises his voice at the child. For the first time, the woman thinks that she might have also got her son back as well as a grandchild.
--
“Come on Ruby, you’ve got this,” Logan beams as the four-year-old races towards him, leaping into his arms, he twirls her around and she giggles ecstatically. “Good girl,” He holds out his hand and she high fives it. Her face is a picture of happiness, for the days that they actually have time to go outside and play together.
Ruby Sanders, now 4 years old, was somewhat of a force to be reckoned with. She was an extremely energetic child, with bright blue eyes and loves hugs more than anything. Logan loves her more than anything, more than, 4 years ago, he thought he’d ever been or would be capable of. He was still nearly the same with other people, nearly, he was still quite cold and calculated, but with her, he had all the heart in the world.
“She’s adorable,” Logan turns to see a man beaming, he’s wearing a flower crown on his head, in shades of pastel blue. “Sorry, I just love kids, I have two of my own,” He points off towards the swing set of the park where a teenage boy is pushing a much younger little girl on a swing “Adopted, but mine none the less,” Logan offers a polite smile, although he’s unsure what to say. “My name’s Patton, and you?”
“Logan, this is Ruby,” Patton beams, holding out his hand for little Ruby to shake, she giggles and places her tiny hands on his.
“High five!” She giggles and Logan can physically see Patton melting as he beams, eyes wide as he places his hands over his cheeks with excitement. “Daddy? Can we go play with?” She points off at the two of the children in the park.
“Okay, okay, but remember you have to ask, first okay?” She wiggles her way down to the ground and she walks beside him and Patton, his concentration on making sure she doesn’t fall which is a difficult feat given his own height. She toddles over to the two, and the teenage boy crouches down to hear her talk, he looks around presumably for her father and sees Patton and Logan, Logan gives him the thumbs up and he places her in the swing, pushing both his own sister and Ruby.
“So what're their names?” Logan asks as they sit on the bench and watch the children play. It’s the first time he’s really seen Ruby interact with others, he is a single father, after all, one who works from home, and getting out often is not easy for him between work and making sure Ruby is well looked after.
“The tall one is Virgil, and the small one is Amelia,” Patton smiles fondly “I was their Godfather,” His smile falls a little “They were my sister’s children,” Logan’s gaze softens, sympathy written on his face “She passed away, unfortunately, when Amelia was only 2, and Virgil was 12, so I took them both in, it was in her will and I’d already promised I would look after them if anything happened to her,”
Logan looked down at his hands, and then back at the children. The tallest, Virgil, was wearing a baggy purple sweater, with a black t-shirt and jeans with rips in them, he looked sad, but content, happy to cheer up the little girls. Logan wondered if it was a distraction from his own sadness and then had to remind himself to stop playing a psychiatrist on strangers. “I’m sorry for your loss,” He says gently.
“It’s okay, I lost her, but I gained two beautiful children, who are absolutely wonderful, and you know, as long as I have them, I still feel as though I have her,” Patton took a deep breath and exhaled shakily “But anyway, enough sadness, do you like food?”
--
As it turns out Patton owns a bakery, and the moment Logan says the word “Cake” to Ruby, he knows he’s not going to have much say in the matter. The little girl scrambles onto his shoulders, giggling almost maniacally. The bakery was already open, with the employees inside, but the moment Patton walks in, there’s a collective sigh of relief.
“Patton! Virgil! and hello little Amy,” Says one man, who has a smile that stretches across his entire face, and gentle brown eyes. His name tag says “Roman,” and Logan supposes they must be close as Amelia struggles from her brothers grasp and runs to the man with a happy cry of his name. He immediately picks her up. “Some people in the kitchen need your help Patton, I’ll keep this one entertained,” Roman looks to Logan, who is trying to stop Ruby from yanking his hair out. “And who might you be, pretty boy?”
The taller goes through seven shades of red as Virgil snorts. “Leave him be, Ro,” The teenager gives him a playful shove but Roman’s smile only widens, which Logan had not quite thought was possible. “What would you like?” Virgil asks, his eyes note meeting Logans at all as he talks. Anxiety? Perhaps, but again he had to make a note to stop psychoanalyzing strangers.
“A tea and whatever cake looks like it has the most chocolate on it,” Ruby nods in agreement “She’s insatiable when it comes to chocolate,” Virgil seems to relax a little, smiling.
“Yeah, Amelia’s the same,” They walk up to the counter, and Virgil orders whilst Logan tries to get Ruby off his shoulders without losing his hair or glasses. They finally get her down when the cake and tea come, as well as a tall milkshake. They join Roman and Amelia on the couch, the younger making grabby hands at Virgil, or Virgil’s milkshake. He pats the seat next to him with an affectionate smile and the young girl jumps next to him. Ruby has started picking off bits of her cake already.
“Can I have some?” Amy asks and Logan looks at Ruby with a careful look, hoping if anything he’d at least taught her kindness.
“Of course!” Ruby holds out the cake and the two sit next too each other, picking it apart piece by piece. Logan feels relief wash over him, it was nice to know he didn’t completely fail as a father after all. Roman looks fondly at the children and then back at Logan.
“You look fairly young to be a father,” He commented, “Happy accident?” Logan smiles slightly, before nodding. “I love children myself but it’ll be a while before I start thinking about having my own, maybe after Amelia is grown up,” Logan realizes he can’t actually remember the last time he talked to someone, just talked about life, and he looks at Roman with a small smile. “It’s nice to see Patton talking to people, making friends again, for the past four years he’s been either at home or at the bakery, Logan was it?”
“Yeah, Logan,” He holds his hand out and Roman shakes it. “I think it’s just a single parent thing,” He comments with a hum of consideration “Once you have children they become the center of your life, quite rightly too, but you forget about yourself most days,” Roman gives a hum of agreement before looking up.
Logan can’t help but smile, as Patton walks forward, and today seems to be a day for a lot of firsts because he genuinely thinks that the other man is undeniably adorable. He has sugar and flour on his face and clothes, his flower crown balancing precariously and his glasses have a smidge of cookie dough on them. He remembers that feeling, the feeling like your heart is opening up after years of being clenched, from years ago.
Logan smiles, Patton meets his eyes and smiles back.
--
They start arranging to take the kids to the park together so that they could have friends mostly, though there is a more hidden agenda around seeing and talking to each other. The question does finally come “So Ruby is she...biologically yours?” Logan sighs and nods, leaning back against the bench “You must have been really young, like 19? She’s four right?” He nods again.
“When I was a teenager,” Logan starts, “I was not a very kind person,” Patton’s eyebrows furrow “I was very cold, closed off, and my entire existence revolved around keeping one secret, that I was gay,” He already knew, from meeting and talking to Roman, that Patton was not a judgemental person, so he felt comfortable, as comfortable as he could feel, about divulging this. “In the result I became very repressive, my emotions, my sexuality, they just weren’t there, it made me a hard person to love, even my parents struggled at times,” Logan looks over at Ruby, who is trying desperately to get Virgil to give her a piggyback ride, unfortunately, simultaneously, Amelia is also trying to do the same. “I didn’t know love, until she came into my life, a complete accident as a result of my own heartlessness,” he looks away from Ruby back too his companion “there was a girl, a one night stand, and then, nine months later, there was Ruby, it was in hindsight my own fault, I was blackout drunk, and I didn’t think about protection or anything, but I wouldn’t change Ruby for the world,”
He bites down on his lip, anxiously recounting the story for the first time since it occurred “She didn’t want anything to do with her, I left the offer there, if one day she wanted to come and see her she could, I gave her my new address after I moved and everything, but for the first time in years I really knew what love was, and I wasn’t letting go of her,” Patton looks a little teary-eyed, and before Logan knows it he’s being hugged.
It’s nice hugging Patton, he decides rather determinately. He smells like pastries and tea and his clothes are really soft and actually so is his skin. He can feel the other man’s cold nose brushing against his cheek.
He really could get used too it.
--
Patton invites them both over for dinner one evening and Logan pretends not to see Virgil smirking over his phone as he does so.
Logan spends nearly an hour deciding what to wear, then another hour trying to get Ruby to have a bath. He always lets her pick out what she wants to wear as long as it’s practical for whatever it is she’s doing (The number of times he’s had to explain to her that glitter and mud don’t bode well together is almost laughable).
He knocks nervously at Patton’s door, with a little girl balanced on his hip and a potted plant in the other hand (He recalls Patton saying he doesn’t like bouquets, they make him sad because he knows they will always die). The elder man is ecstatic to see them, taking the plant with a blush and placing it on the dining room table. Virgil, once again, is smirking, Logan can’t tell if it’s a good sign or not.
He gets his answer as Ruby and Amelia disappear off to Amelia’s room to play with toys (”Don’t make a mess!” Patton had called after them), and Patton had gone to finish up dinner. Virgil sits quietly for a moment, before he sighs and puts down his phone “Okay I’m going to be straight with you...even though I’m gay,” Logan feels his cheeks heat, his hands shaking just a little, this is far different from talking to the parents, somehow, it’s more nervewracking, perhaps because it’s more important. “He does not stop talking about you,” Logan’s eyebrows fly up “Seriously, he really likes you and he adores Ruby,” Virgil looks like he’s on the verge of having a panic attack, “In my entire life, that I remember, I have never seen Patton like this, and certainly not since...mom died,” Logan nods. “So if you’re interested in him, in a relationship with him, then you should go for it, it’s nice...too see him so happy, so eager to go outside, to go anywhere and speak to anyone that isn’t here or at the bakery,” He pauses, taking a deep breath “But if you’re not interested you need to make it clear too him now before you really break his heart later on,”
Logan swallows dryly because he knows he does want a relationship, finally in his life, and he knows he is interested in Patton, romantically, there was just much more to this than just the two of them. “I am interested, in Patton, romantically speaking,” He tries to remember what words were “I respect him greatly, and I think in time there could be more too this, but I can’t just consider mine and Patton’s feelings in this situation,” Virgil flushes red, and looks down at his phone fidgeting. “You, Amelia, and Ruby are all just as important, and whilst I want a relationship with Patton, I need to consider how this will affect you guys too,”
Virgil nods, fidgeting, eyes down at his shaking hands, and Logan decides to ask a brave question “Virgil do you have an Anxiety Disorder?” The teenage boys head shoots up “No judgment, here at all, I studied psychology before Ruby was born, I was planning to become a psychiatrist, but I know the signs of an Anxiety or Panic Disorder, and...sorry if that's too personal,” Virgil finally nods.
“Yeah, I have a Panic Disorder, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder, with a fixture on Social Anxiety,” He pauses “Seeing your mom die will do that too a person,” Logan wondered if this was what heartbreak felt like, as tears welled up in his eyes and his heart clenched in his chest. “I’ve heard the ‘I’m Sorry’s’ a hundred times, so please don’t, I need or want your sympathy, but yeah, I was there, she had a bad asthma attack, we hadn’t been able to afford an inhaler, I kept telling her to tell Roman or Patton and that they’d help, but she said she couldn’t,” Virgil closes his eyes for a moment and leans back against the couch. “Patton and Roman blamed themselves for a good year afterward,” Virgil sees a brief look of confusion on the other’s face, and reaches conclusions “Roman is Patton’s and my mother’s brother, my uncle, he helped Patton set up the bakery, although he can’t bake for shit,”
Virgil smiles again “I love Roman to bits, he’s a wonderful uncle, but I’m glad Patton took us in,” A low snort of laughter escapes him “He’s the sort of man who thinks you can live off beans on toast and be completely fine,” Logan laughs, despite the heavy information he’d just received “And I think having to attend every single one of his plays would genuinely be enough to send me running to Patton,”
“So you don’t call him dad?” Logan asks curiously, Virgil shook his head.
“Nah, I see him as a father figure, he was the only father figure I’ve ever had in my life, but by the time it got to the point where he’d become the parental guardian I was used to calling him Uncle Pat, Amelia calls him dad though, she’s too young to remember mom, and one day we will have to explain to her,”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Logan says gently “You’ve been through a lot, Virgil, if you need any extra support, or more medically based information, I will be happy to help, no matter the future for me and Patton,”
“Thanks...Lo,”
--
Dinner was lovely, so lovely that Ruby had eaten all of hers and then finished off Amelia’s for her. Eventually, though, the young girl had tired out and was falling asleep with her head on Logan’s lap and her little feet on Patton. Amelia is curled up over Virgil’s lap “I should probably head off,” Logan pretends he doesn’t see the little glint of sadness in the other man’s eyes.
“I mean,” Virgil said with a sigh, not wanting to see Patton’s puppy dog eyes “Amelia has a bunk bed, Ruby could stay on the bottom bunk with Amelia on the top and Logan could crash on the couch, it is like,” He looks at his phone “Past 11 o’clock at night, it’s a bit late to be driving home, the responsible thing would be to stay here,” The young man is trying very hard to contain his smile as Patton’s face lights up. Sometimes Logan wonders who truly is the adult in this house.
Virgil takes Amelia to bed, whilst Logan carries Ruby, the little girls complain tiredly, but Amelia is over the moon to have her new friend stay over and wakes up much faster as she starts to find pajamas for the little girl. Virgil and Logan help them into their clothes, watch as they tiredly giggle about having a sleepover.
“Alright, night ladies and this room better not be a mess in the morning,” Virgil flicks the light off as the girls yawn between giggles, quickly falling asleep. Virgil catches Logan's eye “This one is my room,” The door was painted dark purple, and somehow the elder imagines it’s just as much of an emo nightmare inside, as Virgil is himself. “If you need me, it’s where I’ll be, but if not, see you in the morning Lo,”
Logan’s smiling too himself as he walks back downstairs, Patton’s cleaning up the dishes, yawning slightly “Need any help?” He asks as Patton nods, he moves past the other, hand resting on his lower back briefly as he squeezes between Patton and the kitchen table. He begins to dry the dishes, listening to Patton humming a melody as he does.
“Virgil seems to have taken to you,” Patton finally says softly “That’s important, he doesn’t take to many people,” Logan nods, understandable really. “And Amelia and Ruby seem to get on really well,” Patton drains the sink, handing the last dish to Logan, his eyes meeting the others. “So now I guess I just have to know, what about us?” Logan smiles.
“I think we’re getting on very well Patton,”
--
Roman babysits for them. Logan asks Patton out on a date that night, and Roman looks after Amelia and Virgil, and Ruby simply insists she sits and plays with her new friends. It’s been a couple of months of backward and forwards at this point, and Logan trusts Roman to look after his daughter.
Logan drives them to a small hill, as the sunsets, and produces a picnic basket. Patton squeals with excitement and Logan can’t help but find him rather endearing. They can’t stay out too late, because they have children to get back too, of course, but they eat sandwiches and drink some lemonade whilst the sun drenches itself in pinks and purples.
Logan kisses Patton on the cheek goodbye as he and his daughter leave that night, Patton doesn’t stop absentmindedly touching his cheek for the rest of the evening. Roman and Virgil exchange knowing looks.
--
When the day does come, they've had four dates, many hugs and lots of holding hands. Everyone but Patton knows, and everyone but Patton is in on the situation. When Patton comes through the door that night, he’s happy to see Ruby running up to him, always gleeful to see the little girl, and of course her father too. She holds out a piece of paper for him and he opens it.
“So, I’m not very good with talking, most times, about my feelings, it’s a character flaw, but there’s something that needs to be said, and I really do need to say it, so I decided to write it down, from Logan,” He folds the piece of paper, just as Amelia comes running up, with yet another piece of paper. “So I employed some help and advice from very special people, who’d know exactly what to do, they’ve all been paid handsomely in chocolate, I don’t run a child labor program,” Patton giggles, and thanks Amelia, looking up for Virgil to come trudging through the door, with a bag of chocolate coins in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. His cheeks are slightly flushed as he hands it over to Patton and continues eating his chocolate.
“I’ve honestly never felt the way I feel about you, for anyone, I’ve known love before, for my daughter, and along the way for my parents, but this is something new and different, not better or worse, but different, and I suppose that it’s been a while now, we’ve gotten to know each other greatly, but I’ve known from the first day I saw you walk out with flour and cookie dough all over you that you, and your family, were going to be very special to me,”
It’s Roman who comes in last, perhaps the most excited out of them all, as he mock bows and hands over his piece of paper “For his royal highness,” He grins, Patton is almost crying.
“I adore you, Patton, and perhaps even love you, you’ve become a constant in my life that has made me see that there’s hope for me, and my daughter in the world, your never-ending kindness I think pushed the last block of the wall I had built up many years ago, and made me truly feel all that I could, I hadn’t even realized that wall was still in place until it had crumbled,”
Roman grabs the girls and hoists them up, moving them too sit on the kitchen dining table, Whilst Virgil hovers anxiously in the doorway, stuffing chocolate coins in his mouth. Distantly he hears Amelia telling him off, saying that all the chocolate will make him sick. But he’s not paying that much attention, because lastly, Logan trails out of the living room, his cheeks flushed and his hands shaking and looking so utterly nervous. “I hope you realize, that you mean a great deal to me Patton, and not just you, this family, means a great deal to me, and I’ve spoken to Virgil and Amelia, and Roman, because their opinion matters just as much, I tried to talk to Ruby about it but she’s already convinced that Virgil is now her big brother anyway,” Patton laughs, tears in his eyes as he takes Logan’s hands.
“Thank you,” Virgil respectfully trails into the kitchen to help Roman control the two little girls demanding chocolate.
Patton’s hands are warm on Logan’s cheeks, as they trailed from his hands, up his arms to rest finally, against his cheekbones. His eyes are full of emotion, and Logan feels like any piece of who he used to be, those days that he couldn’t forgive himself for, had disappeared. His lips are soft too, every movement was gentle and full of care, and although brief, was everything both of them needed.
“Are you two finished playing tonsil tennis?” Roman sticks his head around the door, a grin on his face “We want to watch Disney movies,”
Logan and Patton both laugh, their fingertips interlinked. Logan wouldn’t change Ruby for the world, and perhaps if he hadn’t been the way he was, he wouldn’t have her, and that was something he never wanted to think about. But right now, it felt like the teenage years he’d never really had, hand in hand with a man that he loved.
A little love really can go a long way, he thinks as Roman sets up the TV and Virgil throws all the blankets and pillows in the house on the floor, helping the little ones construct a pillow fort. Patton leans into his side, prompting Logan to wrap his arm around his shoulders. Content, he hopes this all works out, not just for his and Patton’s sake, but for the kids too. Virgil, who looks as peaceful as he has in days, laughs as he’s bombarded with pillows, Ruby, who until meeting this family had barely had the chance to interact with others, giggled, trying with her entire little body to bring the pillow down on the other, instead she topple onto him with a resounding thud. Amelia laughs at them both, seeing the opportunity to attack.
He smiles at them, smiles at their laughter, and finally, he relaxes.
@analogical-mess // @unikornavenger // @mycatshuman // @creativity-killed-thekitten//@theresneverenoughfandoms//@charmingprincey//@aclickonapostwillchangeyourlife//@heck-im-lost//@k9cat//@stilljittery//@romansleftshoulderpad//@sanderssideslibrary//@max-is-tired //@therealmoshar//@punsterterry //@trashypansexual
Add yourself too my taglist: Sanders Sides/Thomas Sanders
Ko-Fi
164 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shades
4.
Ten minutes after Stan left to go meet Oliver, Felicity’s consciousness swam up from the darkness Stan’s drug put her in. She sped up towards a small circle of light, as if she was rising from the bottom of a deep well. Cobblestone walls flashed past her during her ascent, and as she passed, images from her life began to appear in the stones---her mother tied to a chair, Oliver taking her into his arms as the possibility of a nuclear bomb was about to detonate, Laurel dying on hospital gurney. There seemed to be hundreds of these murky images swirling around her as she made her way to the light above.
Then her eyes fluttered open and she was back in the small room Stan had put her in. As her senses began to clear, Felicity could see a thin light illuminating her surroundings. The first time she had come back from Stan’s administered sedative, she did not have enough time to get a really good look around. Now, with the shallow light cast from a single floor lamp, she saw everything.
As her senses returned, Felicity noticed three things that were different from the first time she came back from Stan’s darkness. The first thing was that her arms were no longer zip-tied to the metal headboard above her. They were now lying across her chest, folded over each other as if she were hugging herself. The second thing she noticed was nausea swirling in her stomach and a slow buzzing in her head. There was also a light sheen of sweat on her brow.
She turned her head to the left and saw the third thing that was different. There was a wooden chair sitting in the middle of room. On the chair, Felicity saw four items. She saw three syringes lined next to one another. There was clear liquid in each of them. Were those more sedatives? Did Stan plan on injecting her three more times? The other item on the chair was Felicity’s gun, the one that Anatoly had given her to use on Diaz, the one she always carried with her now.
Felicity swung her legs off the bed and shakily stood up. There were no windows in the room, and the only apparent way in was a door at the foot of the bed she had been in. The weak light from the floor lamp threw molted shadows on the gray walls. Next to the door, Felicity spotted the coat she had been wearing when Stan abducted her, hanging from a nail. On the floor beneath the coat were the bags of presents she had bought for Oliver and William. A mystery, Felicity thought. She hated mysteries.
She began to notice how cold it was in the room and moved over to retrieve her coat. She put it on and then moved back over to the chair. She bent and scooped up the syringes and stuffed them into one of the pockets in her coat. Then she took the gun into her hands, suddenly feeling comforted by its weight. She ejected the clip and saw that it was fully loaded. What the strange kind of hell was Stan playing at here? He unbound her from the bed, put the syringes containing his control over her on the chair and left a fully loaded gun. This mystery just kept becoming more and more complex.
Felicity went back to the door and pulled on it. It opened about three inches then stopped. Okay, it was locked from the outside, which so far is the only thing that made sense to her since she woke up. Well, whatever he was up to, Felicity was going to be ready when he returned. She hefted the gun in her hand. He knocked her out two times now. There will not be a third.
She backed herself up against the wall next to the door and waited to see what comes next. Felicity had no idea that she had just an hour before the poison in her system finished its infiltration and killed her.
*
Oliver approached the remains of Verdant, abandoned and forgotten for over three years now. There was one streetlamp parked in front of the club, spilling a weak illumination onto the sidewalk below. Oliver moved over to it and stepped into light. There was no more hiding in the shadows for Oliver. He had taken off his mask and decided to face the world as Oliver Queen. As he made his way to the old nightclub, Oliver began to work out his part in the coming confrontation. Stan was nuts. That was really all he needed to know.
Yet, after interacting with the man back at Slabside, Oliver felt as if he had learned something vital about the little psycho. He had hero envy. He had latched onto Oliver like a stray dog that had been fed and couldn’t get rid of. But Oliver also discovered that Stan was not entirely without guile. In the end, he had manipulated everyone. He killed that guard, set up Turner and found enough inventiveness to escape. He was no sidekick. He was a dangerous killer, the kind who always seemed to find a way out of the spotlight of capture. Except for Slabside. Oliver didn’t know how he got there, but it was the right assumption that he belonged there.
Oliver’s anger towards Stan for kidnapping Felicity tried to force its way into his heart and bring out his own killer in him. But that was not the right play in this scenario. The only thing that mattered to Oliver was getting to Felicity. Stan was the means to that end. So, Oliver would play his game, and maybe even find a way to gain Stan’s trust enough to have him take them to where he was holding his wife.
“Oliver,” a familiar voice spoke from behind him, coming from the shadows at the perimeter of the streetlight. “I knew you would come.”
Then Stan moved into the small circle of light and reunited with Oliver.
“Where is Felicity,” Oliver growled at him.
A small smile touched Stan’s face. “She is closer than you think. Don’t worry GA, she is safe…for now.”
“What do you want,” Oliver asked him, already knowing the answer.
The smile fell from Stan’s face and he looked at Oliver with calculating menace. “You know what I want,” answered. “I want us to be partners. I told you on the phone. We are so much alike. I want to take the fight to those out there who have it coming. I think together, we can clean up this city and make it safe.”
Oliver put on his psychological hat and followed Stan down the rabbit hole. “I agree,” he replied.
Sudden suspicion filled Stan’s eyes. “You agree…I don’t think…I mean why…”
“Stan, forget that you kidnapped my wife. By the way, the old me would not have hesitated in snapping your neck the second you walked up here. You have made it plain that we need each other, for the moment. I need you to take me to Felicity and you need me to help you become a hero. I get it. So okay, let’s do it.”
Stan shook his head, as if he had awakened from a long nightmare. His suspicion seemed to drain from his eyes and was replaced with hope. “Really,” he breathed. “You really mean that?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve shown some real fortitude and promise by escaping from Slabside. That is not easily done. I’ve killed quite a few people myself over the years. I understand your rage. I might have found a different way then your methods, but at the end of the day, both of us have looked the devil in the eye and survived.”
Stan was beaming as Oliver’s words penetrated through his insanity. “Oliver, you are right on the money. I didn’t want to kill all those people, but they didn’t understand that I was only trying to help them. Like you help the people of this city.”
Oliver nodded. Just keep him off-balance, he thought. Let him lead you to Felicity. Call him a hero or a deranged psychotic---just keep him in front of you.
“Stan, if we’re going to team up, we are going to need Felicity. We’re going to need her skills on the computer to track down all the people who have it coming.”
Stan nodded. “Right. Okay.” He turned and pointed back up the street Oliver came down. “Do you remember passing an old abandoned apartment building about four blocks that way?”
“Sure,” Oliver answered. “It was called the Barony Suites when I was a kid. Is that where Felicity is?”
Stan smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I told you she was close by. Oliver, I wasn’t ever going to hurt her. The poison I gave was only an incentive to get your attention.” He looked at the watch on his left wrist. “We still have twenty minutes to reach her and give her the antidote.”
“Okay, well let’s not stand here and flap our gums. Lead the way Stan.”
*
Felicity heard movement outside the door and was ready for anything. She also heard voices, but they were muffled and not recognizable. A rattling sound scratched at the door and Felicity held her breath. Then the door swung open and Stan was the first one through it.
Felicity raised her hand and pointed her gun at the lunatic’s head.
Oliver came in behind Stan and saw movement to his right. Then he saw what was about to happen. “Felicity…no…” he called out.
It was too late. She pulled the trigger.
@it-was-a-red-heeler @memcjo @swordandarrow @hope-for-olicity @cruzrogue @lageniuswannabe @icannotbelieveiamhere @keabbs
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
~Late Night With Darkiplier~ (Darkiplier X Anxious! Teen! Reader)
Authors Note: Sorry for being inactive. I have a lot to do, so here’s some Dark fluff with his kid :)
Fandom: Markiplier Egos
Pairing: Darkiplier X Anxious! Teen Reader
Warning(s): Anxiety attack, cursing, PLATONIC Reader
Anyways, please enjoy~
~~~~~Y/n P.O.V.~~~~~
This was a mistake.
I should have left while I could.
My friends said they were having a small party. Of course, my mind was thinking of about 6 people, but my friends decided to be dooshes. At first, it started out with the three of us, but then more and more people started coming. The party started to get crowded and wilder by the second. Of course, it wouldn't be a high school house party without beer and any kind of drugs they could get their hands on.
I am currently locked in the bathroom, not daring to go out into the sea of drunk and high teens. I could always call one of the egos to come to pick me up but they're all asleep.
Well, except for one.
Do I dare call Dark to come to pick me up from a party I didn't tell him about? Maybe he would understand. After all, he should know parties aren't really my thing. I would much rather stay at home playing video games and eat junk food all day then get high as shit off of the dollar store kush.
I look at my phone for the time. "1:48" I curse to myself, hoping Dark is still up. I took a deep breath as I hit the call button. I gave a shaky breath as I waited for him to pick up.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" I heard Dark's annoyed voice through the phone. "H-hey demon dad #1. Hows-hows your night going?" I shakily asked, trying to sound casual. "Don't try to flatter me, that never works. “What's wrong?" Dark asked. He knew something was wrong by my voice. Of course, I didn't even try to hide my nervousness from him. He would find out one way or another.
"You know how I was going to hang out with my friends for a small get together?"
"Yes."
"Well, that 'small' get together turned into a teen rave party with probably over 100 people. I may or may not have locked myself in the bathroom." I explained on the phone. I could hear a sigh with some shuffling coming from the other end. I can feel my body starting to shake more furiously than before. For me, talking to Dark was never easy. I had a sense that I was always bothering him in some way. Eather I was casually talking to him or I was just standing in the same room.
"I will be there in 5"
I gave a small thank you as I hung up and shoved my phone in my pocket. I could feel the tears prick up in the corners of my eyes as I sat next to the bathtub. My chest began to feel heavy while my breathing quickened. I dug through my backpack I brought to try and find my earbuds/headphones. As I vigorously shoveled my hand through the bag, I found what I was looking for and pulled them out as quick as I can. I untangled the thin wire and plugged it into the device.
I let the soothing music flow through my ears as I pull my hood over my head. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath as I cradled myself from what lurks beyond the bathroom door. Tears rolled down my face leaving spots on my sleeves. I try to focus on the soft lyrics of the song but it was sort of hard to do while there was loud banging on the door.
Wait.
I snatched my earbuds/headphones out and started to panic while someone angrily knocks on the protective barrier that shields me from the outside world. My breathing quickened as the knocking got louder and more vigorous.
'No no no, please go away. Not here, not now. Please get here soon Dark.'
The doorknob wiggled.
'No please leave me alone.'
Pounding on the door.
'Don't come in! Please give up and walk away!' My fast breaths turned into hyperventilating as I sat in the tub trying to hide myself. My hands were covering my ears as my body shook. It felt like an invisible figure sat on my chest trying to suffocate me. More tears spilled from my eyes on to my cheeks.
There was a loud thud as I felt arms wrap around me and lift me up. I look up to see Dark with a stern look on his face. His red and blue 3D effect grew as the ringing became louder and louder until it fully blocked the music and laugher out. I didn't know what to do besides snuggling my head in his chest. That's just what I did.
My shaking form was beginning to relax as Dark walked out of the house. He set me in the passenger's seat of his car and quickly got into the driver's seat. My breathing was still heavy but not as bad when I was in that stupid house. I curled up in the seat and watched the buildings fly by as we drove off into the night.
As we came up on the street the house was on, dark didn't slow down. Instead, he drove right past. "Where are we going?" I turn toward the dark entity. We came to a stop at a stop sign and Dark turned to me. "I figured I would... make you feel better by taking you to a cafe. It's late at night and nobody will be there besides ourselves." I gave a soft smile as the car started moving again.
We arrived at a small cafe that is open 24/7. The both of us walked in and took a seat in one of many empty booths. A waiter came and took our order. Dark got a plain black coffee while I ordered a (drink). There was a silence between the two of us until I spoke.
"Sorry"
"What are you apologizing for?" Dark asked, confused. "For bothering you all the time." I fiddled with the sleeves of my hoodie.
The waiter came back with our drinks in hand. She placed them on the table and walked off. "Since when have you ever bothered me." Dark raised an eyebrow. I took a nervous sip of my drink. "You are one of the only people that haven't annoyed me in any way, and that's saying something."
"Really?" I was surprised. I knew he was being honest because he usually is forward with his hatred toward someone. Dark nodded as he took a drink of his coffee. Feeling better about myself, I gave a bright smile.
We both talked for a while as we enjoyed the nice silence of the cafe. We usually never get this kind of quiet at the house. It's always hectic there.
I leaned back into my seat as I felt comfortable, but not totally comfortable. I needed someone to vent to about my friends and maybe get some advice. Someone that's not fully male.
"Um, Dark?" Dark gave a soft hum. "Do you think I could talk to Celine?"
Dark paused mid-sip at the question. He carefully set the mug down on the table and folded his hands. "What's your reasoning?" Dark raised an eyebrow. I swallowed nervously as I answered. "I just needed advice from a female figure, is all." I sunk back into my seat as I waited for him to answer. Dark sighed and gave a small nod. I watched as his 3D effect became fully red. Dark opened his eyes. Instead of seeing his pitch black eyes, they were red. Not a bright, blood red, but a smooth and warming shade of red.
They blinked a couple of times until their focus was on me. "Hey their Y/n, It's nice to talk to you again." There was a more feminine voice mixed into the echo. She gave me a warm smile. "It's nice to finally have some kind of female interaction. I don't have a lot of that back home." Celine giggled. "So, what are we gossiping about?" She leaned closer into the table. I gave a frustrated grown. "My friends are dirtbags." "What did they do?" I rested my head in my hand as I leaned on the table. "They have been awful in the past few weeks. They make me late to my classes, steel my food, I'm pretty sure they're talking behind my back right about know, and the stupid party they didn't tell me about!" I laid my head on the table in frustration. "You might need to find some new friends." "You think?" Celine gave a confident nod as she stood up and pulled my arm to pull me out of my seat. "You seem frustrated. I know a place that always calmed me down." Celine threw some money on the table and marched out of the door and into the car. I hopped in and buckled myself up while she did the same.
We were driving for a while until we came to a stop at a hill full of flowers. The both of us got out of the vehicle. Celine linked her arm with mine and led me to a particular spot that was lit up with some sort of glowing rocks in a form of a circle. "What is this?" I said in awe. "Damien, William, and I came here sometimes to get away from the world. It is just as beautiful as I remembered." Celine smalled as she plucked some of the flowers. I did the same with some red and blue flowers.
I was snapped out of my concentration on weaving the stems when I felt something placed onto my head. I reached out to touch what was placed on my head and felt a bunch of flowers in a row. I smiled and continued my flower crown.
I placed the last flower in its place and looked at it proudly. Celine looked like she was spacing out so I carefully placed the crown on her head. She jumped but started giggling as she felt what was on her head. Her giggling started to turn into chuckling as her red area started to fade into blue. I thought Dark was coming back but the blue started to glow brighter than the red.
"Y/N!"
I was pulled into a massive hug as we fell back into the flowers. I was laying on his chest while he was hugging me tightly. "It's wonderful to see you again!" I laughed as I hugged back.
"It's nice to see you to Damien."
I was going to get up but Damien squeezed me tighter in his arms. I giggled while snuggling into his chest. "How have things been?" He asked. I sighed and buried my face in his coat. "Okay, I guess." "That doesn't sound too convincing. tell me what's wrong." I look up at the mayor. "I guess it's just stress from everything that's been happening," I answered truthfully. I look into Damien's soft blue eyes. "Don't let the pain of the world get to you. Everything will be over soon, I promise." I gave a tired smile as I lay my head back onto his chest. "Thank you." was the last thing I said before sleep consumed me.
~~~~~3rd P.O.V.~~~~~
As you fell asleep, Damien smiled down at you. "Your welcome."
The blue area started to face into its normal size along with the red. Dark's eyes turned black as he blinked a few times. He looked around and then at you. A small smile formed on his face as he gently picked you up.
He carefully walked back to the car and set you in the passenger's seat. Dark drove home in silence, glancing at you to make sure you were comfy or awake.
As Dark brought you into the house, he made sure everyone was still asleep. He took you to your room and carefully removed your shoes and placed you in bed.
Before leaving, Dark threw a blanket over your sleeping form and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.
#Darkiplier x Teen Reader#darkiplier x reader#Dark with a kid is so fucking adorable#markiplier egos fanfic#markiplier egos#fanfiction#my works
74 notes
·
View notes
Text
ERROR 404- A JSE Egos fanfic: Winter Holidays special pt. 1
Recap: Our Marvin has finally returned from the dimension he was hiding in, and he regrets every single bit of his prior actions, however, he is forced to spend the next few months in the hospital for while his severe injuries heal. Meanwhile, however, it was discovered that another, much stronger Anti, from a separate universe, has found his way here, and allegedly plans to conquer ours, in his attempts to conquer as many worlds as he can. But, all hope is not lost, as his world’s version of Marvin- whom goes by the name ‘Merlin’ as to not cause confusion- has also come to this universe, in attempt to stop him, and bring him back to the pocket dimension that they apparently came from.
Previous chapter
Next Fic
[December 25th]
Marvin opened his eyes, and let out a short scream as he realized where he was. He was in yet another vision, and this time, he was falling very fast. He flailed around desperately for some sort of way to catch himself, but to no avail.
After a few solid minutes of falling, he was suddenly picked up by the talons of a bird, and quickly flown somewhere, only to be flung forwards, as the bird turned away and the world dissolved to darkness.
“Marvin, thank god I found you!” The child’s voice from his previous visions spoke.
“You again? What- What’s going on? Who are you?”
“My name is Liam. I’m a different version of your Jackie’s newborn son. It’s a long story.”
“Wait, newborn son?! When- When did Jackie have a kid?!”
“Two.”
“What?”
“I have a twin. We were born almost an hour apart, but on separate days. I, the 15th of December, and him, the 16th.”
“... On the anniversary of Overnightwatch, no less..”
“Yes, but for my universe, that would not happen for a fair amount of time.”
“Well, anyways... Why are you contacting me? What do you want?”
“... To warn you.”
“Warn me? About what?”
“About him.”
“Him? Who’s ‘him’? You’re not making any sense, kid!”
“... My Anti. Currently, you are in stasis. He captured you quite a while ago. He.. replaced you with a false. You were the first to go. Now, only Seán and your universe’s version of my father remain untouched by his strings.”
“What?! Wh-How?! Why?! Why tell me?!”
“You’re the most important factor to work against him. It is your kindred nature and determination to fight for the others that will ultimately prove most vital if we plan to save your universe, or at least you and the other egos. Wake up, Marvin! You have to wake up! We need you now, more than anything else! Merlin needs you!”
“Wait-!” He began, but it was too late. The vision had already begun fading.
~~
Marvin shot up, eyes snapping open as he gasped for breath. He looked around. Oh god, it was true! The other egos..! They were here, too! He stared in horror at the sights before him- Schneep hung from an unseen object, green strings wrapped around his wrists tight enough to keep him suspended. JJ was lying on the floor, his movements completely hindered by strings, too. Robbie was partially dismembered, with his body sort of spread across a small area on the floor. Worse yet, Chase was propped up against an unseen wall, a small line of blood trailing from his mouth. The vlogger’s shirt had a fresh patch of blood in it, and he knew in the back of his mind that Chase had been the most recent one to suffer. Then, he saw the children, and his heart sank with dread. Grayson and Samantha were cuddled up against each other, their faces stained with tears and blood, while two little baby boys, whom he assumed to be Liam and Brandon, were huddled in their lap for warmth. This Anti... went after the children?! Oh, how it pained to even think about what he could possibly even have done to them. He looked around more, and his heart sank more and more as he took in all of his surroundings.
He got up after a while, and attempted to shake the egos awake, one by one. He didn’t bother with Schneep, though, because he knew it was probably too late for the doctor. Schneep’s chest was almost entirely covered in blood. He slowly approached the kids, and shook each of them. Only Grayson stirred, but he just shifted. The poor boy didn’t have the energy to open his eyes, and it hurt Marvin to know this.
He sighed dejectedly, and turned, going over to where his now partly bloodstained mask rested on the floor, picking it and his cape up. Opening a portal, he looked back one final time, feeling his heart on the verge of shattering as he gave one final goodbye to his real family, and stepped through the portal, silently praying he had managed to get the coordinates perfect this time.
As soon as he exited the portal, however, he tripped, and smacked into the ground with a loud thump!, sighing in annoyance as he realized he’d put it a little bit too low this time.
~~
Merlin could feel the world shifting, and, despite his hopes, knew this was the final hour for his new friends. He swiftly ran back to Jackie and Ava’s place, his heart racing as his mind spiraled into a mad flurry of not-so-positive “what if”s. If he was going to save someone, he knew, deep down, that it had to be Jackie and his family. He couldn’t let them down! Not like this!
The thought only made him run faster, and, not even bothering to go inside, he used a few trashcans and the outcropping over the entrance to the apartment complex to jump up to their balcony, and opened the door quickly, yelling for Jackie and Ava to “Get ready for shit to get really fucking bad in a few minutes!”
~~
Seán sensed something in the world change, but he couldn’t place exactly what. He quickly went to one of his windows, trying to see if he could tell what it was from there.
A yelp of surprise, followed by a slightly quieter crash and a loud thud, caught his attention, and he turned to see Marvin on the floor behind him.
“Marvin?!”
“Oh, hey Seán. Didn’t know you’d be here.” The magician stood up, rubbing his head.
“What the hell are you even doing here?! I thought I told you I never fucking wanted to see you again!” He spat.
“Wait- Wh-What?!” Marvin stuttered, backing up a bit as his eyes widened. Seán stared at him, as he realized the shock was genuine.
“How do you not remember?! It- It happened right after you forced Jackie to nearly kill Anti!”
“Wait, what?! I-I never did that! I-I’ve been stuck in another dimension for ages! I don’t even know what day it is!”
“What?! But- Then- Who have we been chastising for betraying our trust this entire time?!”
“I-I don’t know-“ The light sound of a foot hitting the floor interrupted his speech, drawing both adult’s attention.
“A copy. You’ve been interacting with a copy of him for several months now.” Seán looked to the source, shocked to see what looked like a hologram projection from one of those old sci-fi shows of a child. Not to mention that the kid looked a bit like Jackie, too.
“Liam?! What are you doing here?!” Marvin exclaimed as the kid stepped closer, the hologram effect fading as he seemed to cross into their world.
“Liam- Wait, what’s going on?! Marvin, what the hell-?!”
“We don’t have any time to discuss this! My world’s Anti is going to kill you all if we stall any longer!”
“Shit, you’re from his world, aren’t you?!”
“Come on!” Liam yelled, as he grabbed Marvin by the sleeve, and gestured for him to follow as he practically dragged Marvin back through the portal he must have used to get into Seán’s house. Seán sighed inwardly as he followed, not wanting to risk getting killed because he didn’t listen to the kid with obvious superpowers.
~~
Chase woke up, and groaned quietly in pain. His wounds still ached, but the blood on his shirt was drying. He wiped as much of the blood on his lower jaw away, and shakily sat up, trying to remember what all happened. All that he knew was he had been ambushed by two Anti’s on his way back home. Raising his gaze to look around himself, he froze, horror wrenching his gut as soon as he saw the scene before him.
Schneep hung from above, his body limp, eyes closed, and work scrubs covered in blood. He looked... He looked like how Robbie had described him looking after Anti almost gutted him, back on the glitch’s birthday! Oh god, how long had he been here, like that?! His eyes finally managed to break away from the doctor, and with each new ego he saw, his heart shattered more and more. JJ was on the ground, his head bloodied and partly cracked open, like it had been after Marvin attacked him. He shuddered at the memory, which was still freshly scorched into his mind. Robbie was nearby, his arms and a leg detached from his torso, with his right arm being in three pieces.
Chase checked the area for signs of either Antis’ return, and when he saw nothing, took his chances, and made the agonized dash to JJ’s side. He had planned to take the mute back to where he had been prior, but his eyes fell on his and Jackie’s kids as he looked up, and his heart stopped.
Making sure he didn’t drop Jameson on the ground as he made his way to the kids, he practically dropped to his knees by their side, and, placing JJ on his other side, checked to make sure they were still alive.
To his relief, he could definitely feel their hearts beating, and, despite the circumstances, began to cry in relief. He hugged his poor babies, wondering why Stacy hadn’t told him they were missing. As he sat where he was, his biological children and nephews held closely by one arm, his dearest brother Jameson hugged by the other, while tears slowly fell down his cheeks, he smiled faintly to himself. Something, almost like an instinct of some kind, inside of him told him that this was it. The world was ending. But, yet... He didn’t care. As long as he got to spend his final moments with JJ and his kids, he would be happy to die.
~~
Marvin had no clue what the hell was happening anymore. Everything was a blurry mess at this point. Liam was cowering fearfully behind him and Seán, as they used a protective spell to hold back the out of control glitch before them, who was too focused on trying to break down the spell to realize he could probably just warp behind them and attack from there.
Their magic briefly faltered, and the terrified look on Seán’s face confirmed that they had detected the same thing. Not a moment later, the world started quaking, and he could feel their reality beginning to break. A bright light erupted from somewhere in the distance, and the last thing he heard and saw as the world was enveloped in white and he slammed painfully into the ground, was Liam shouting his name and running to him.
~~
Merlin was using his magic to put a barrier between his Anti and Jackie, Ava, the babies, and himself. He knew it was probably game over, since the glitch had them cornered, with no visible means to escape anywhere between them and their attacker.
Then, a flash of red streaked past his barrier, as he felt the world beginning to crumble, and he screamed for Jackie to come back. The world began to go pitch black as the last thing he saw was this world’s version of his oldest brother getting brutally cracked in the face by his greatest enemy, while all he could do was trip while attempting to run after him, forgetting he was supposed to be protecting the hero’s family, screaming for him to turn around. The last thing he heard was Ava shrieking in pain-
...
You blink, wide-eyed. Oh, god, what the hell happened?! Where was the universe?! Why were you cut off from it? You bang on your monitor a couple times in confusion, attempting to see if it’ll reboot. The monitor just glitches briefly, and presents you with the dreaded Blue Screen.
You sigh, and turn your attention to the WorldView monitor. Blank. Nothing of importance was happening right now. Shit.
Swiveling around to the only other monitor in the room, you turn it on, and access the Error Logs.
[...]
[....]
[.....]
[Error... Camera Viewpoint connection lost.]
Damn it.
[<Attempting to reconnect...>]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[<Attempt failed. Try again?>]
[Yes]
[No]
You put your hand on the mouse, and swivel it over to the option you intended to click.
Now, it’s up to you, dear reader! Which do you choose to do- Sacrifice your ability to view more stories from World Initiative, or do you try again, hoping desperately to restore what you’ve lost? Respond with your choice via an ask, a comment, or a reblog!
——————————————————
Next Chapter
@antis-loyal-puppet @tiny-septic-puppet @rorald-spooks @septic-dr-schneep @ihaveanunhealthyteaaddiction @insaneangel18-blog
#WritersofJack#jacksepticeye#jacksepticeye egos#jackieboy man#marvin the magnificent#wi!marvin#wv!marvin#wi!anti#wv!anti#wi!seán#wi!jackie#little baby liam#bold little brandon#fanfic 2#World Initiative#WorldView
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
9 & 17 for the prompts!! :D :D :D
hello lovely!!! this prompt has been a joy - thank you for checking in and specifying Stanlon. I’ve actually not written straight up Stanlon before, so I hope I did them justice - and tbh, Richie ended up commandeering the whole thing anyway. I really couldn’t stop him. so - bonus Reddie!!!
Anyways, if you like this fill even half as much as I like you, I’ll consider it a success.
so, here is like a thief in the night, baby’s first Stanlon ficlet prompt 9 (”so you’ve started stealing my socks now”) and prompt 17 (”you owe me a cookie”)
and if you’d rather read it on Archive….here you go :)
It was rare that Mike Hanlon felt that he didn’t know what to do.
He’d grown up knowing that his father would insist upon his being prepared for every minor occurrence, and so he had become a young man that was fastidious about knowing what he was doing before he did it. He researched, he practiced, he did whatever he could do to make sure that he was ready and able to face any task that came his way.
The irony of the fact that it was love (of all things!) tripping him up wasn’t lost on Mike. He’d read countless love stories, and had watched his friends fall in and out of love a zilliion times over the years. He thought he was prepared to take on the challenge.
He was very, very wrong. Love in practice was way different than love in theory, and Mike wasn’t even sure how to talk to the object of his affections, let alone, like…ask the person out or something.
Unfortunately, people were starting to notice his lack of confidence.
“Has everything been all right with you, Mike?” Stan asked him one day as they were preparing to head home after a sleepover at the Toziers’. “Or, rather, is there something you’re upset with me over? We haven’t really talked in weeks.”
“Oh.” Mike had been avoiding Stan, but it had nothing to do with being upset - quite the opposite, actually. “Um. No, we’re good, Stan. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
Stan smiled a rare, warm smile, and touched Mike genially on the arm. Mike felt the pressure of Stan’s hand on his elbow like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. Perfect, straightforward, no-nonsense Stanley Uris, keeping Mike’s life in place without even knowing it.
God…the love stories he’d read hadn’t even come close to describing what it really felt like to have a dizzying, world-altering, soul-shattering crush. This was torture.
“I’m not hurt, Mike, don’t worry. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
“I’m okay,” Mike confirmed, and watched with a knot in his stomach as Stan nodded, confident that he’d resolved things, and walked out of the Toziers’ front door and towards his old blue Ford Taurus.
When Mike went back to the farm, he was greeted with the exciting news that his mother and father were planning on managing the farm themselves that morning, so he wouldn’t be required to join them until the afternoon. Great. More time to himself to mull over how stiltedly awkward his interactions with Stan had become.
If he’d just had more time…if he’d asked Stan to wait a minute (no, that would have been too weird), or offered to carpool (too late - they’d both taken their own cars over, and also they didn’t live anywhere near each other, so that was out), or even offered to take him out to coffee (too much like a DATE, Mike, come on), he could have explained himself, or at least gotten over the stupid mind block that seemed to be popping up every time Stan was within fifty feet of him.
How could he buy himself a few extra minutes with Stanley Uris?
The answer didn’t come to him that day, but rather a few days later, when he was going through his drawers in an attempt to find his favorite purple t-shirt and prove to his mother that she was crazy for thinking that it was in the wash. He’d just about made it to the bottom of his shirts drawer when he saw it: a crisp white button down with navy blue pinstripe patterning.
How had Stan’s shirt ended up in his drawer?
He had a veritable collection of clothing from the rest of the Losers, now, because they spent a lot of time at Mike’s parents’ farm in the summer and as such, lost items weren’t a huge deal, because they knew that everything would turn up again eventually. The current pile included but was not limited to: Bill’s cheap cereal-box watch, an old t-shirt of Ben’s, a belt that was too small to fit any Loser but Bev, tiny tube socks that Mike was pretty sure he’d seen Eddie wearing a few weeks ago, and a pair of Richie’s underwear (it was a long story)…but Stan never forgot anything. Stan kept a detailed inventory of all of his things, clothing included…and even if a shirt had slipped under Stan’s radar, there was no reason at all for it to be in Mike’s drawer.
Mike’s mother had been right about the purple shirt, but Mike couldn’t even bring himself to be mad about it. He had an opportunity in his drawer, now, and he was ready to use it.
He pulled Stan aside after the Losers’ next excursion to the Aladdin, and opened his bag awkwardly, hands fumbling with the zipper, and then with the shirt.
Stan’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that mine?”
“Um.” Mike moved a hand up to his face, half mortified and half nervously excited. “I found it in my room. Figured you were probably looking for it.”
“Oh.” Stan gently took the shirt from Mike’s hands, and then smiled softly up at him - and oh lord, had Mike ever seen Stan smile like that? It was like he’d let his guard completely down - there was no sharp, cynical edge to his features at all, only genuine appreciation, and Mike felt all of his resolve shift towards a single goal: getting Stan to smile at him like that more often.
“Right.” Mike found his voice for long enough to shakily respond. “Yes. Right. Um. Did you like the movie?”
Stan laughed softly, and shrugged his shoulders, turning to rejoin the rest of the group. “It was fine. Could definitely tell that it was Richie’s choice today. You?”
Mike stared at him for a moment, and then his legs kicked in, and he was shuffling along after Stan. “I thought it was funny - and it was probably extra funny for me, because I was sitting next to Eddie, who just kept turning redder and redder the whole time. Richie mouthing along to the dumb jokes really got to him, I guess.”
Stan shook his head, and Mike watched his curls bounce, entranced. “Those two are such a mess. I hope they sort themselves out soon…it’s getting annoying.”
It took Mike a minute to process what Stan was saying, but once he’d realized the implication in Stan’s words, the beginnings of a plan lit in the empty spaces of his mind.
“So you’re saying you think Richie needs help with Eddie?” he asked quickly, wanting to make sure he was understanding things right.
Stan paused and looked back towards Mike over his shoulder. “I mean, not exactly my point, but Richie could always use assistance in interacting with other people.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“No reason,” Mike said quickly, trying to figure out the best way to get Richie alone.
—-
Mike didn’t end up having to plan a thing. Richie showed up by himself the next day.
“Buenos dias, Mikey!” Mike looked up from his gardening with a frown as Richie drove his banged-up old truck off the road and over the grass towards where Mike was squatting.
“What do you want, Tozier?” Mike asked, willing Richie to stop before he accidentally ran over an important plant.
Richie slammed on the brakes, and Mike winced at the high-pitched noise they made. Richie really needed to have his car looked at. Mike was surprised that Eddie hadn’t taken a wrench to it already, but considering the state of things between Richie and Eddie, it kind of made sense that normal friend occurrences were falling by the wayside.
“Was in the neighborhood,” Richie said, opening the truck door and swinging himself out. “Thought I’d stop by and pet a chicken.”
Mike crossed his arms over his chest. Richie had pet the chickens exactly one time - one peck on the hand had been enough to get him to swear up and down that they were evil and that he would never touch them again. “Interesting, but why are you really here?”
Richie stopped and stood next to Mike, lanky frame towering over him in the sun. It would have been intimidating if it were anyone other than Richie. “Stan sent me over. Didn’t tell me why, but made that really scary Stan face at me, so I figured I should actually see what he was on about.”
Mike nodded, wondering how Stan knew that he wanted to talk to Richie. That boy was better at social inferences than anyone gave him credit for. “I won’t tell him you’re scared of him if you don’t tell him what I’m about to tell you.”
Richie’s face lit up, and he crashed down onto his ass, sitting cross-legged next to Mike. “Secrets, eh Micycle? I happen to be a master secret keeper, you know–”
“Remember when you told the whole ninth grade that Bill was interested in Kelly Jenkins?” Mike asked flatly.
Richie was undeterred. “Details,” he said flippantly, grinning at Mike. “So, what’s up?”
“I, um.” Mike felt his face going red, and silently cursed. Richie was never going to let him live this down. “I want to….talk to Stan more.”
Richie’s half-surprised, half-elated face looked a little bit like someone had electrocuted him. It was very unattractive, and Mike wanted to tell him so, but Richie was talking before Mike had the chance to say anything. “YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON STAN THE M–PHHHH”
Mike clapped a hand over Richie’s mouth, and braced himself for the inevitable licking. Sure enough, after about three seconds he felt Richie’s tongue against his palm…but he wouldn’t relent, not this time. “Shut your trash mouth, Trashmouth. Yes, I am….interested in Stan…and you are not going to tell anybody. Anybody. Are we clear?”
Mike removed his hand from Richie’s mouth with a jerk, and Richie was left with his tongue hanging uselessly out. He spluttered, took a quick breath, and then nodded, an inquisitive look in his eyes.
“Crystal. Gotta say, though, sexuality-wise I’ve always thought you were more of a Prince than a David Bowie.”
Mike shrugged. “Eh. I just like who I like, I think. Doesn’t really matter. My folks don’t care, as long as I’m being responsible.”
“You and Stan are like…the definition of responsible.” Richie immediately made a face at that realization. “Oh, God, that’s terrible.”
“Anyways,” Mike continued, ignoring Richie’s obvious disgust at being surrounded by people who actually did well with rules and structure, “I think I’ve got an idea about how to buy myself some extra time with Stan without being weird or forward about it, and I need your help.”
Richie held out two fingers. “Two things. One, I don’t know what your plan is at this point, but knowing both of you I guarantee you’re wrong about things not being weird.”
“Fuck you,” Mike said sourly. “What’s the second thing?”
Richie leaned up so that he was uncomfortably close to Mike’s face. “What’s in it for me?” he asked, putting on a voice, and Mike felt like he really had no choice at that point but to shove him.
“Pick an accent and stick with it, dude.” Mike shuddered and stood up, picking up his gardening shovel. “I was thinking I could make sure you and Eddie got some alone time at sleepovers. You know, so you don’t have to keep making up excuses for dragging him off.”
Richie’s eyes widened comically behind his glasses. “Wh–excuses? Me?”
“All of us know that Eddie wouldn’t actually join you for a smoke break.” Mike rolled his eyes,and offered Richie a hand up. Richie took it begrudgingly, and Mike pulled him to his feet. “Admit it - neither of you are smoking out there when you go.”
“Fine, fine.” Richie was uncharacteristically flustered: his ears were red, and he kept fidgeting with his hands. Mike thought it was kind of funny - like watching a cat try and fit itself into a space it was too small for. “How long are we talking, here?”
“Upwards of thirty minutes,” Mike promised. “Way better than the ten minutes here and there that y’all have been sneaking.”
Richie pretended to consider Mike’s proposal, but they both knew what he was going to say. “Deal,” he finally conceded, reaching out a hand for Mike to shake. “Now, what’s this plan of yours? Oh my God, wait - Stan…plan…..”
“Don’t go down that road,” Mike warned, “and here’s what I think I want to do.”
By some incredible miracle, Richie managed to hold off his laughter until after Mike was finished explaining his whole idea. Unfortunately, that meant that when Richie started laughing, he couldn’t stop.
“Mike!” Richie wheezed. He’d fallen back down in his fit of giggles, and Mike was scowling at where he was curled up on the ground. No way he was getting a hand up this time. “That is…….without a doubt……..the STUPIDEST–”
“Will you do it or not?” Mike asked, exasperated.
“Yeah,” Richie said, with obvious fondness in his voice. “You know what, I fucking will.”
—-
Richie was an idiot, but he was an idiot that was true to his word, and two days later, Mike was in possession of Stanley Uris’s watch.
“Stole it from right off his wrist,” Richie had bragged, “arcade finger skills at work. If you ever need a heist team, Richie Tozier’s your man–”
“Thanks, I’m not bailing you out of jail,” Mike had told him, shutting the door in his face and mentally trying to make a list of things that the Losers could do without Richie and Eddie. (It was a long list of things. Richie and Eddie were so loud most of the time that it was often actually more pleasant to do certain things without them.)
Stan had been far more startled to see the watch than he had been to see the shirt.
“Where did you get this?” he asked incredulously when Mike handed it to him outside of the ice cream parlor. He’d asked Mike to hold his ice cream while he re-fastened the watch to his wrist, and Mike had acquiesced excitedly - it felt kind of official, to be holding Stan’s ice cream like that. He wondered if that was how Richie and Eddie felt all the time.
“Found it in my bag when I got back from the Aladdin a few days ago,” Mike lied. “Must have fallen off and in…lucky it didn’t land on the floor of the theatre.”
“Strange,” Stan frowned, “I thought I had it when I got home from the movies…”
Mike shrugged helplessly. “Minds are weird things. Yours must be playing tricks on you.”
Stan sighed and shook his head, holding out his hand to indicate that he’d like his cup of ice cream back. “It’s too much time with Bill is what it is. He’s making me forgetful by proxy.”
Mike jolted upright at Stan’s words. Had Stan and Bill been hanging out together? Privately? He could see why Bill might want to spend time with Stan - Stan was the funniest Loser, after all, and the smartest, and the bravest, and oh God, Bill probably had a crush on Stan, didn’t he? He would be stupid not to….but…was Bill even gay? Did Stan even–
“Not that I spend time with Bill outside of group hangouts, of course,” Stan continued, interrupting Mike’s frantic train of thought, “but still.”
Mike shifted, embarrassed at the path his thoughts had taken. “Do you spend time with anyone outside of group hangouts?”
“No,” Stan said, turning to face Mike. “Not really…but I’d like to, with some people.”
Mike felt his eyes grow wide, and he swallowed hard, not knowing how to respond. “Well–”
“You guys coming?” Bev called pushing her bike up next to them. “Hurry up and finish eating, slowpokes. We want to swim.”
“We’ll be right there,” Stan promised.
“I think it might take Richie and Eddie a while, though,” Mike quickly added, trying to uphold his end of the bargain he’d made. “Eddie spilled his and had to get a whole new one. They’ll probably be late.”
Bev rolled her eyes. “Idiots. Anyways, hurry up. Bill, Ben and I are leaving.”
Once Bev was out of earshot, Stan turned back to Mike with a bemused grin. “Eddie spilled his ice cream, huh?”
“You don’t want to know,” Mike muttered, and begrudgingly began making his way towards the trash can.
—-
Mike’s plan was short-lived for two reasons: Richie was a terrible thief, and Stan had excellent attention to detail.
The ice cream cover-up had assured Richie that his arrangement with Mike was mutually beneficial, and so he’d agreed to continue smuggling items over for Mike in exchange for the occasional cut-out with Eddie. Unfortunately, he was stupid enough to try and make a grab for Stan’s stuff on the night of a sleepover at the Uris residence, and Stan was a notorious stickler about people touching his things.
The confrontation had gone down in Stan’s room, while most of the Losers were curled up in the Uris living room watching Nightrider. Mike had noticed Richie sneak off, and had subsequently noticed Stan follow Richie upstairs with suspicious eyes, so he figured it was probably in his best interest to follow both of them to make sure they didn’t end up in a no-holds-barred brawl.
He had, of course, been right.
“So you’ve started stealing my socks, now?” Stan was hissing on the other side of the door when Mike reached the top of the stairs. “What the fuck are you doing in here, Richie? Are you just trying to mess up my stuff to make me mad, because–”
“No, dipshit,” Richie shot back, “I’m looking for my bag–”
“Your bag is downstairs and you know it,” Stan snapped. “What is going ON with you? I thought you’d be happy with the fact that Mike’s trying to give you and Eddie some space, not try and sneak off on your own to cause chaos, you idiot.”
“You know about the space stuff?” Richie sounded confused, and a little upset. “Wait, how much of my agreement with Mike are you in on?”
“Mike’s helping you and Eddie,” Stan said carefully. “That’s it, right?”
Richie gave a short laugh. “Ohhhh, nope. Stan my Man, you are in for quite a…como se dice….surprise–”
“That’s enough, Richie.” Mike entered the room before Richie could do any more damage. He knew what that probably meant as far as what he’d have to admit to Stan, but it was better coming from him than it was from Richie, even if that meant that Mike’s stomach was currently doing Olympic-level backflips. “Go back downstairs. Eddie’s wondering where you are.”
Richie looked as if he kind of wanted to stay and find out what the outcome of the Stan and Mike discussion was going to be, but the mention of Eddie’s name was enough to lure him back downstairs. “Aight. Good luck, friends. Thoughts and prayers to you in this trying time.”
Richie departed as quickly as his gangly limbs would allow, and Mike was left staring back over at Stan.
“What was he talking about, Mike?” Stan asked quietly, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I asked him to take your stuff,” Mike explained, unable to meet Stan’s eyes as he confessed.
Stan jerked backwards in surprise. “Why?”
Mike took a deep breath, concentrated on Stan’s forehead, and said, “I wanted to have an excuse to spend more time with you.”
Stan’s eyes widened, and he blinked at Mike for a few silent, agonizing seconds.
Then, he burst out laughing.
“Mike!” Stan was doubled over, almost in tears already. “Oh my gosh, Mike - I did the same thing!”
Mike squinted at him, unable to figure out what was so funny. “I don’t follow.”
“I made sure that shirt was in your dresser!” Stan wheezed, looking up at Mike with bright eyes. “I wanted an excuse to talk to you!”
Oh. OH. That made a lot of sense - there was really no way the shirt would have gotten into Mike’s dresser if Stan hadn’t put it there himself. Oh.
Oh.
Stan had stopped laughing, and was moving slowly towards Mike - shyly, like he almost expected Mike to turn him away.
“Of course, I might be misunderstanding,” Stan said in a low voice, and the air suddenly felt heavy.
Mike willed himself to look anywhere but Stan’s lips when he responded, “I don’t think that you are.”
“Good,” Stan whispered, close enough to pull in and….and….
Mike had never felt less prepared for a moment in his life, but it was upon him: Stanley Uris was brushing his lips against Mike’s lips, and every single one of Mike’s nerve endings was on fire.
Stan pulled back far enough to be able to examine Mike’s face, and seemed to be satisfied with what he found there. He smiled, brushing his fingertips against Mike’s cheek.
“You want to spend some time together, maybe?” Mike asked, words like a waterfall out of his mouth. “You and me? Alone? Together? That was what you were talking about at the ice cream place, right?”
“Very good,” Stan nodded, beaming. “I was, and I would like to.”
“Adorable. Fucking disgusting, actually.”
Apparently, Richie hadn’t left after all. Mike and Stan turned to find him leaning against the doorway.
No, wait - Eddie was in tow. He’d left, and then come back.
“Is there something you want, Richie?” Stan asked coldly.
“Yes.” Richie jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Get out.”
Stan gaped at him. “This is my room!”
“And Mike owes us some alone time,” Richie said, gesturing between himself and Eddie, who looked absolutely mortified at Richie’s behavior, “and you, Staniel, promised me a cookie for sneaking that shirt into Mike’s drawer, and here I am, cookieless, so the least you could do is clear the room and let Eds and I get busy on your bed–”
“Not on the bed,” Stan hissed at the same time that Eddie yelped, “Gross, Richie!”
“Okay, okay.” Richie held up his hands. “Not on the bed, clothes stay on, and so on and so forth. Now scoot. Bill only sleeps in thirty minute increments. Fucking psycho.”
Mike and Stan looked at each other, and Stan proffered a hand out to Mike.
“You ready to take this outside?”
Mike smiled. Finally, finally, finally, the reins were back in his hands - finally, he knew what to do.
“Let’s go.”
#stanlon#stanley uris#mike hanlon#reddie#richie tozier#eddie kaspbrak#losers club#it 2017#Stephen King's IT#stanlon is so pure i'm so happy
55 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
toastedratt
ratt
ladylooch
hockey, cause I like pain
ditosecontraditos-blog
Entre perdidos e achados
rhode-island-real
Certified Rhode Island Posts
optiwashere
Anotheropti on AO3