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grim-faux · 3 years

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25 _ The Husk of a Memory

First

Always raining in the Pale City of gloom and despair. Nothing in the skyline but regrets, nothing in the windows but hollow faces staring into the endless snow of distortions and buzzing electric escape. And through the alleys of this desolate place, across the slimy walls, through yawning vacant roads, stretched a shadow.

His feet drag him closer to that awful place, the space about him vibrating and humming, fragments and particles flashed. It was already too late, but better late than never. Never was the delay of inevitability, tardiness was the verdict of deferment. Unforgivable. Irredeemable. Monster.

It was all his fault. He did this.

The rain cloaked his shame, swaddled him in impenetrable threads of icy lace. The tower loomed impossibly high in the sky, piercing the vortex of clouds. Its featureless wall gazed down upon him, mocking his retreat from the world. His sulking return, as expected.

He tipped his head down, the rain slicked off his hat. The child cradled in his arms was colder than the air swirling, nipping through the static. He did his best to shelter him from the rain, but he had come in haste and the wind knew no mercy. The small face bloodied, the faithful coat cut to ribbons - fluttered in the vicious gale. It was a cruel trick of the Tower, a horrendous and vile deception. Not once, never in a million cycles, did he ever question the probability of existing beyond the child.

Had they really become so detached?

W҉̶̧H̢A̧͏T̴̨̧͜ ͘͠H̸͘͘͟A̢̛͜͠͠V̨̕E͢͝͏̷ ҉Y̡̛O͘͟͜͞U̶̢͝͏ ҉̴Ḑ͘͟͢͝ON̷E̛͝

̶͜͠C̴̸͜H̶҉̶I̡͘͞L̴̴̢D̶҉?̶̸̡͘

The walls will croon. As if they didn’t know. Innocent in their pretend ignorance, the playful mockery, their ghastly gleeful grinning. What indeed? What indeed?

This can’t be fixed. He’s too far gone. It isn’t fair, but this world didn’t care.

It thrived on the struggle for survival and fortitude in the bleakest despair, and drank up every drop of failure and misery squeezed from its hapless victims. Savored all the flavors of agony, lapped up each and every victim in turn when they came crawling through the transmission – seeking freedom, escape, and peace from the pain of existing in this miserable world.

Ţ̡͟͡͡H̵̛͜͡͡E̴̸̸̸ ̴̕C̵̶͝͠Y̶̡͟͞͞C̛͜͠͞͏L̶̕E̴̴͡ ̸͟͡͝C҉͠Ą̶͢͡R͘͘R̸͢͜͜͝I̴͘E҉̵͜͞͞S̴̷̨͢͟ ̶͟͏̸̕O̶͠͝N̡W̨͢͏A̵̛͢R̵̛͢͢͡D͏̧̡͞͞

̸̴̸̧̕

̸̵̛̕͠U҉̛͏̸N͜I͘͠Ņ̷̕̕͜T̷̡͘͟Ę̸̨R̶͝͞R̷͢U̢͢͝҉P̧̢͡TE̷͠D̶҉̕͢

͏̸͘

̛̕͠C̨͟O͏̨M͜͟E̵͘͢͡.̶̛҉

̴͠

̷͠W̕͢E̴͘͡͞ ̸̷̷͞͞C̷̕A̛͞N̕͟͡

͞͝͝͝

͏̛M̵Ą̵͟K͏̢͜E̸̢̕ ̧̛͠Ų̵S͜͏Ȩ̡ ̡̡̡͢͠O̶̸̵̡F͟͠͠҉ ̴͢͡T̸̨͟͡H̢̨̧̛̛Į͠S̵̢̢̕͞

The massive doors swoop outward, revealing light tinged rose and peach, velvety blood reds and deep blues. Tile floors stretched forth placid and plain, small things for children glitter in thin air. A toy duck, a bear, all easily loved, easy to cherish in a world so intent on mangling and tearing bones apart.

W͠H̴̢̕͞͡Ą̵̨T̷̸̢ ̵̢͠Ḩ̷A͏̛͏S̸̸͟ ͜͟A̶̢͟͞L͏͘͠҉W͘͟҉A̴̛͟͟Y҉̴̷͢S͏̸̵͘͢ ̶̶͠B̷̨͝E̸̡͡͡Ę̡͘͡N̶̡ ̧̢̛

S̡̨̢H̴̴̨͜A͜͢͜͡͡Ļ̛͜͠҉L̵̢̡͞ ̸͢͢A͝L͠W͏͞͏Ą̴̡Y̛͝͠S̨̧͘ ̛͝B͜͝E͜͝͝

He stepped into glittering light, departing the rain and its cleansing embrace. The moment his shoe sole pressed down onto the tile, the surface dipped sharply. Eyes began peering from cracks in the walls, more fissures ripped loose – it was laughing.

Behind him, the door shut with a booming Clack!

The world plunged into a vacuum of silence.

The Thin Man jolted, grabbing for his slacks. He dithered a moment, as the shaking oozed from his long limbs. Dark.

No, he could see. There was no light, but he didn’t need a spectrum of radiance to gather his surroundings. He was muddled and confused, lost in the fog of… of….

He brought a hand to his face and rubbed out the image. He could still feel the awful implication of the Flesh, mocking. Pleased.

His hands drifted to the desk before him, touching the grainy surface. Grounding himself in this realm. This reality. What it made him see, was not real. It wasn’t real, it didn’t make him see anything. A dream haunt. An unpleasant, unnecessary fear. It was fine. It was all right.

Or was it?

His fingers brushed the scrap of cloth on the desk. It’s not a scrap of cloth, it wasn’t so remedial. He pressed his hand over it, smoothing the wrinkles. It was still drying.

In a smooth sweep, he’s on his feet and at the door. The room he hides within is the only one of the residence which he bothered to secure. It’s a simple matter of convincing the lock, and he’s through the corridor to the spare room with the dresser. The fog dense sky distorts the light, even so, the child already knew he was there. Even before he touched the grainy doorframe.

The little face against the windowsill angled up a bit to peer at the shroud leaning at the portal. He can’t help but stare back, unsure what he was meant to do when he arrived. He wanted to see for himself, reassure it was only a sick hallucination of his worst fears. Mono is awake, hyper tuned, and alive.

He looked alive enough.

This time, the child wore a ripped piece of shirt over his shoulders. The gaze he imparts to the Thin Man is eerie in its silence, accepting without opposition the fate nailed through his shoulders.

How much time transpired, since he bid the boy on his way? When was it that they last shared speek? Days and days passing, meant not a thing in this world. It couldn’t have been that long, he’s certain. It couldn’t… he was so bad at keeping track of the days.

Mono seemed so much smaller than he recalled. So feeble. Except for those hauntingly familiar eyes, set on him. There was some note of recognition within, but something else he couldn’t quite grasp. It wasn’t distrust, it was… a flicker of emptiness.

The miniscule movement ripped him out of the thoughts, when Mono sank back down onto the sill. He bundled the scrap of cloth tighter over his shoulders, and gazed off into nothingness, perhaps dozing in the fringe of shadows and present. There wasn’t much else he could do in his current state.

On the spur of a thought, the Thin Man crept into the room, easing down as he inched closer to the child. Mono didn’t move at all, aside from breathe. There was no other place he would go, in the few days he had been active, the Thin Man had not seen him anywhere but this room.

While there remained some space between them, he knelt and reached out. Very gently he touched the child’s head, brushing some of his hair back. Not one bit did Mono react, aside from blink.

He couldn’t decide if there was something he should say, or if a question was preferable. Not that Mono would respond. Relentlessly, he wondered how long it had been? What happened? There was a way to fix this, but it would… it needed time.

Mono wriggled under the makeshift blanket, and pulled the edge up over his head. There was a little space for one eye to peep out, along with a scraggily tuft of hair. The Thin Man withdrew his arm, and sat a bit longer puzzling. The child wasn’t afraid, he just… didn’t want him around. Which he could understand, this was too much damage. He’d done enough.

Throughout the week this is the dominating trend. The child persisted to sleep, only awakening to eat, and whatever he eats is dunked to sodden slop in water. When the Thin Man stepped by to check in, the child was either in the dresser drawer, but most days he doesn’t bother leaving the sill – even for a short exploration, let alone a glimpse out the doorway. Whatever his body endured before the collapse (or in), it needs time for intensive recovery. If he can recover, to resume his reckless ways. He assured himself the boy would recover. Eventually.

In all of that time not a sound leaves the boy. Not even a whimper or sniffle. On occasion the Thin Man did catch him in a trembling frenzy, due to some dream haunt he was locked in and unable to flee. No matter what, children do not make noise. A fitful child is always found and killed, that is why there are no children crying out in the night. They are not allowed to exist. Even ones that do make a speek, will always shut down when they rest. This is normal and isn’t worrying.

On the chance he did happen on the child amidst a sleeping fit, he’d set a hand on the little body and hushed him. He hoped that was calming and didn’t escalate the turmoil. However, the child’s breathing would ease out and the tension evaporated. A good sign, but he remained cautious.

The recent onset of mutism did concern the Thin Man. What was it caused by? Or, by who? Was it an impairment or a choice? Mono had no trouble hearing, his sense never wavered and remained as refined as ever. However, the child’s whole body and movement was devoid of sound, like a muted television program. For the life of him, he couldn’t grasp the reasons. And when asked directly, the child would peer at him without emotion or intonation. It was… disconcerting.

Much of the time, Mono didn’t react to his presence, aside to acknowledge he was present and accept foods. The Thin Man repaid in kind, resolving to limit his interaction with the child and remain as detached as possible.

Except the rare day when he needed to change the bandages. The one in particular on his arm, which was miscolored from dunking it in water, and in a questionable state.

He knelt low by the dresser, where Mono was resting this evening. This instance the child was apprehensive about his proximity, the eyes glittered beneath his weedy hair. He inched back, glancing over the rim of the drawer and debating jumping ship. Debating how far he could get if the man in the hat was so intent.

“Your hand.” The Thin Man raised his own hand beside the drawer but waited. “Let see.”

The child slipped his arms around his back and withdrew to the corner of the drawer.

“Come now,” the Thin Man sighed. “Change. Let me see hand.” Mono folded down a little and inched his knees up. “I will force, if not let see. Hand. Let me see hand. Please?” The child tucked his face between his knee and shoulder.

With the defiance asserted, the Thin Man reached over the drawer and took Mono by his shoulder. The boy did not try for escape or resist, aside from twitch. Very carefully, he plucked the compromised arm loose with his thumb, and then he could secure it with his free hand. Mono cringed down into the clothing nest, and looped his remaining arm over his face.

It didn’t take longer than a minute to remove and replace the arm bandage, but by the time he completed the task, Mono was shaking. When he released the freshly dressed limb, it lay loose at the child’s side. He was cautious, was he not? He did not hurt him. The Thin Man nudged the shoulder of that arm, and Mono tugged it close to his side.

There was no way to avoid the scenario. He wanted a better look at the cut and its progress as well, but he disregarded that impulse. He had hoped he could check the leg as well, but there was no way that would happen.

He departed for the back room with the desk, where Mono’s coat had been dismissed. Some of the dirt and grunge was scrubbed out, and now would be a good time to present it to the child.

When he managed to garner Mono’s dubious attention, the boy immediately lit up at the sight of his faithful friend. The Thin Man remained collected and impassive as he set the offering on the side of the drawer rim, allowing Mono to claim it in his own pace. The child nearly toppled out of the dresser as he took the coat and draped it over his shoulders. That looked a little more like the boy he knew. The child even smiled.

Ah, he had one more item to return. The Thin Man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the little discarded hat. He set it on the rim of the drawer as well, a safe distance from the child.

He is smitten with confusion when Mono actually recoiled from the hat and glared at the innocent item. The child looked from it to the Thin Man, eyes wide. Nothing was outwardly remarkable about the item, it was a short top with a narrow rim, a little rumpled, not as classy as his own. Was it not lost? Was something wrong with this particular hat? He took the offensive treasure and palmed it.

Mono clambered out of the dresser and climbed up to the windowsill. He crouched between the windowpane and the edge, studying the Thin Man. He didn’t understand. This didn’t make sense. For the time he settled to go scarce and let the child recover from the ordeal.

Admittedly, he expected Mono to desert completely following the offensive hat incident. He suspected the child might be capable of leaving soon, which spurred him to change out the foul rag that his bandage had become. In the least he could provide, he wanted that done. Instead, the Thin Man becomes more perplexed and uneasy about the child’s drastic change in behavior.

In the days that follow, Mono plunged. He becomes more remote and forlorn. The boy was not restricted to the room, even the entry door had been unlatched if he so chose to escape there. At times, when the Thin Man glimpsed in the dresser room, the child would no longer be in the windowsill or the dresser, but curled up in a corner of the room. As if trying to burrow out of this existence. During his periodic visits, the child would uncoil to watch him with an intensity and focus he’s not accustomed to.

On other occasions, the child was bold enough now to venture from the room and wander through the residence. He would see him about, as if searching for something in an empty room. At other times, he’d catch the child at a doorway or by the wall a distance from his current placement, watching. During these events he was satisfied to retire to the desk room and jam the lock. Or, he would simply fade out and take to the city, check the weather, or any mundane task to take his mind off this whole… debacle. And wonder, was it at all necessary to return?

Perhaps because he knows that face and who this is, and their disastrous history future. It’s almost frightening in the silence and unknown, he doesn’t understand the child’s desires. He seems primed for something, though what remained unclear. Though it isn’t his own future he is concerned for – his acceptance for his eventual demise never wavered – he’s frightened for this irreparable damage, and… something else.

But he had to be fair, was he not like this after his abandonment to the Tower? The only difference, he didn’t have an immediate target for his rage. He bottled it up, set it aside and bided his time; allowing the emotions and hurt to brew and fester, year-after-year. Endlessly, it would seem. Mono was waiting as well, but for what? He’s almost afraid to ask.

He doesn’t know if Mono is capable of answering.

The most aggravating of all became the days Mono wouldn’t eat. The Thin Man didn’t need sustenance like the child did, but he could still tell the difference between the right and bad foods. Was the provided food not good for other reasons? It would have been infinitely better, if Mono didn’t insist on dumping everything into a bowl of water. A child’s handful of food was not substantial.

One day, he waited until it appeared the child finished with what he was eating. The appetizer that would make an ant cry. He entered carefully in a languid dip and brought a fresh bowl of water.

“Is foods bad?” he posed. “Not good?”

In silent response, Mono ate a second handful – all while shuffling back to the corner edge of the sill, and keeping unwavering attention to the Thin Man. While he was on his way out, the child relocated to a far corner of the room and curled down, back to him.

His temperament for the child shifted, it was either distress or exasperation. There was no middle ground. Everything Mono did mystified him, he was no longer an echo, it was a shell. The husk of the child. He saw more and more of himself emerging, and it troubled him greatly to actually witness the transformation. It made perfect sense that he could not tolerate himself. It didn’t matter where the child was left, the same outcome incurred. He isolated himself to a room and bided his time; except, no one would come and open the door.

If the implication was not so horrifying, he’d try to deduce if it was possible this madness broke the cycle.

For a short time he left, working and puzzling how to remedy the shattered scenario he now found himself. He patrolled the city with intent to get away, perhaps run away. But found himself actively seeking edibles that were in a better state, the sort of foods he leaned on as staples – meats and biscuits – whatever few items endured better in age.

The city was the same stagnant place he had left it – when he was a child or when he was an adult – it never changed, always foreboding and depressed. The televisions remained the escapism from the disappointment of the true world, for those that sought, for the abundant mindless who fled. The city had nothing to offer, and he was a prisoner within its borders. Did it matter if he remained or ceased to be? Not in the slightest. Only the child mattered, the inheritor of the grim task. The cycle continues, though warped and distorted it had become.

What has always been, shall always….

It appeared that the child would not recover from this, he was as stagnant as the city that ensnared him. Just as the Tower demanded. The child’s health reached a plateau, though he – in his own youth – was locked in this state of anguish when he fell, and reached the bottom of the abyss. All of it frustrated him with his failure, his inability to hold remedial foresight of eventual probability. There was nothing more he could provide, and his presence caused distress.

When he eventually found his way back to the location where he left Mono, he entered the residence carefully. Still cautious, though he knew indisputably where Mono would NOT be. It was indisputably dark outside, but day or night hours meant not a thing to children.

As expected, the child abandoned the room. However and peculiarly, he was not far from the location. The Thin Man set the procured items on the windowsill and returned to the corridor. He located the child in the room with the desk chair set; the room he retired to when he needed alone and… when he couldn’t contend with the unnerving gaze.

For one he’s surprised the child could manage the climb. Not that the chair was high, but he didn’t see Mono do much of anything this past week but climb a makeshift step. On the other hand, he couldn’t fathom why the boy wanted to isolate himself in a dark, dead end.

Unceremoniously he scooped the smaller one up, prepared immediately for the brutal retaliation. Mono panicked and fought, but the Thin Man was accustomed to this frenzied movement so locked his hands a little tighter around the spindly limbs to secure him from an unfortunate accident. In the fleeting walk to the other room, the child’s wild movement diminished. Perchance he fell into shock. The Thin Man didn’t pay much attention, and dumped the boy in the dresser drawer. Then, returned to his determined quarters and jammed the lock.

The next day, nothing had changed. On the sill, the food was left untouched. As for Mono, it didn’t appear he budged from the dresser drawer; he sat swaying, head dipping. When he sensed that the Thin Man was looking in on him, he tipped his head up. Then, promptly collapsed into the wad of clothing and didn’t move.

Perturbed and a smidgen apprehensive, the Thin Man entered in a low bow. He bent lower to check the drawer and found that Mono was only asleep. This… enigma of a child, was a sequence of fractured pieces trying to coexist. Had he been this hopeless? But given the outcome, he supposed none of this should be viewed as dramatic. He left the room to fetch a fresh bowl of water and left the child for the rest of the day.

On the fourth or nineth week – honest, he lost count. Was it possible the child didn’t need to eat anything anymore? The Tower sure as hell didn’t provide him with food, the transmission was enough to sustain him. He decided not to worry of it anymore. This was the last time he would check in on the child, Mono seemed mostly… recovered. Whatever followed would have to be the boy’s responsibility and response.

He paused in the doorway to watch a moment, as the child did temporary speek on the window glass. Mono fogged the sleek plane and marked in half hazard shapes, somewhat lethargic, a little distracted. For a spell, the Thin Man tried to decipher some of the obscure images, some would be self-explanatory – bird, tree, animal, sack, clouds, chair, lopsided toy. Others, he couldn’t grasp the meaning.

In silence he swept low and stepped close the windowsill. Mono cued in on him immediately, but addressed him with a slight tip of his head. He knelt a distance back from the sill, and evaluated the outer edge of the window where he was certain Mono would climb out if he was aptly motivated. Mono fogged the glass and began marking in the shape of a box.

“No more of me, see,” he explained. “I will leave. You will be left to do as you… as want. Go. No fear to see me, no follow. No more chase. I am to gone. Do you understand? No follow. No chase. Safe.” The expression he was offered was… unreadable. As always, no sound left the child, except maybe a soft choking. But there was a flash of something like resignation… or relief.

Mono scooted back from the glass and let himself down off the windowsill. He crossed over the to the dresser drawer and gripped the edge, for a few minutes he stood there, confused or uncertain on how to get over the edge.

The Thin Man observed. What was it this… difficult child yearned to convey? He resolved to give in, and let the child be. This was the only option, and his company hindered whatever recuperation Mono needed. The reinforcement that he would not be harassed anymore, would hopefully rekindle some drive toward the illusive spark that died.

Carefully, he rose up from his knees and made his way out the door, down the corridor. He barely straightened up from the threshold when something snatched at his ankle. This time he is leery when he pivoted and looked down, crossing his arms. Expectedly, he mouthed:

What?

Mono inched back a few feet, one hand tugged at the bandage on his wrist. After some fidgeting, he raised his arms up and stood on his toes.

The Thin Man wasn’t sure… what to make of that? He raised a brow under his hat, as Mono waved his hands upward and edged closer. Almost up to his shoes.

Curious, the Thin Man leaned low and stretched an arm out. Mono moved closer to his grasp, until the Thin Man settled to tighten his hand around the brittle little chest. When the child didn’t struggle or resist – why would he? – the Thin Man lifted him from the floor and held him outstretched, as one would inspect an interesting rock or opaque jar.

Mono’s arms hung loose over his hand, expression unwavering from the stoic chisel. His heartrate spiked a bit, but not to an alarming point. He just stared at the man in the hat, as if something about this whole episode struck a chord. Then a frail cough, spooking the Thin Man – who loosened his grip a smidgen, and was about to set the child down—

“You.”

He hadn’t heard that voice in quite some time. Though it was huskier than he recalled, as if full of grit.

Mono wheezed, “Caught… me.”

Oh. Well… the Thin Man wasn’t sure what to say on that.

“Stole. Me?”

The implication hit him. The Thin Man returned to the room. “I believe I am retired from chasing children.” He set Mono in the dresser drawer and pulled a shirt sleeve over his shoulders. “You will get better when am gone.”

Mono had the most desolate and blank expression. “Not….”

“You won’t survive while I am around.” This time when he left the room, he shut the door.

No better way was presented to do this. He gave the child fair warning and stepped back into the city for one last patrol, acquire additional edibles to certify the child’s necessary time for recuperation. That was the most he could leave, and it was more of an advantage than he ever had. Though, his trials ended at the Tower. Mono was no longer the child he once was, he was someone else.

When he returned to the residence, he did venture to the room for a last check. And to leave the door ajar.

It didn’t appear Mono left the dresser at all, if the gradually growing pile of debris was any indication. He sat at the edge tearing slivers of wood from the drawer rim, and flacking off paint with some intense focus. His presence didn’t deter the child, but he did NOT want to draw attention to himself. All the better if the child remained… distracted.

This wasn’t the best solution, he admitted. Yet, he had no alternatives, no insight what to do with this child. His very presence induced turmoil; the child was cast aside by the one he considered a ‘friend’ – a ‘friend’ who initiated this entire downward spiral. The boy would manage on his own, it is what children did best. If he remained cautious and crafty, he had all the tools needed to survive. It wasn’t impossible for the ones so poorly equipped. What more could Mono need? The answer, was something the Thin Man could not supply.

The Thin Man shut the door to his reserved quarters and sat at the desk. He leaned far back in the chair; hands clasped over his eyes. He was… exhausted with trying to do what was right, and nothing ever turning out fair. Let alone sane. If his predecessor had any insight as to what breaking the cycle entailed – if truly this cycle was corrupt and shattered – he could see why there was minimal effort to revolt. He remembered why he stayed in that damned Tower.

For the better part of the evening, he pondered these conundrums and contradictions, far into hours he did not recognize, and were not kind to his rattled thoughts. The plan was go without warning, like a thief. Fade into the shadows of nightmares, as if he never existed but for some residual suffering. But he’s cautious, and conscious of the little whittling at his ribs. He thought he jammed that door. It barely occurred to him that Mono could teleport.

Why would he do this? The Thin Man didn’t recall having claws when he was little, but maybe he didn’t remember right. He tried to loop his fingers around the knotted bundle, but he couldn’t discern where the edges in Mono’s coat should be. The child clung to his suit like his life depended on it, and maybe it did.

He relented in this tedious task and simply settled on cupping his hands around the heap, unraveling Mono by a fraction. The child resisted, o̡͞f̵ ̛̛̕ç̧͞o̷͏͡u̵̢r͘s͏e, but it was easier to loosen the limbs and situate him a little higher, hopefully to stave off that obnoxious digging. The Thin Man leaned back in his chair and propped his legs on the desk. Mono remained latched and rigid like a spiked orb, particles of static sizzling….

“Mono….”

A muffled, Mm? Barely audible.

“You’re an obstinate little brat.” He dipped his hat over his eyes and tried to chase down some rest. He wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon.

A deep sigh exhaled, and Mono burrowed a bit more into his suit. Defiance asserted.

He placed a hand over the quivering child and felt the slight twitch – but that was how children were. Once Mono recognized there was no danger, or that he wasn’t to be removed, the little body relaxed. It was a different feeling from when he was sifting through exhaustion; it was as if his bones dissolved. This time the loose state was not from crushing defeat.

#little nightmares #little nightmares fanfic #mono #the thin man #fanfic #fanfiction #little nightmares fanfiction #the man in the hat #found family #thin dad #reluctant dad

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serifsans · 3 years

Text

Vladimir walks into Jean-Paul's apartment to find the vaporvolph sniffling while eating homemade frosting out of a bowl. It looks surprisingly good, actually, and Vladimir feels a little rush of pride because hell yeah, his partner-in-crime made something in spite of the fact that they have enormous self-doubt about their ability to create anything worthwhile. Paulie usually doesn't attempt anything more complex than (vegan) eggs and maybe pancakes if they're feeling daring. JP considers their ability to order out a sign they've not only made it as a human being but also a personal fuck you to everyone who was ever cruel to them when they were homeless.

"Hey, what's the matter? You're going to get tears in that bowl," he says. JP told him on the phone that he fucked up something horrendously but didn't elaborate. Knowing JP, she could have either been caught shoplifting or he fucked up his nail polish. Vlad doesn't know why they keep on doing their own nail polish when he does a better job of doing their nails. Actually, he also doesn't understand why JP will throw their money around on everything else but absolutely refuses to go in and get a manicure.

"I'm a failure," they say around a mouthful of frosting, the most dejected look possible on their face. Vladimir locks the door and then sits beside them on the couch, JP immediately burying their face against his chest for comfort and because they're a pec man. Vladimir welcomes this.

"Come on now, you're not a failure. What happened?"

He pets JP's hair soothingly and his ears pop out, the boundaries of his pink ears shifting with color in a way that used to give him a headache if he focused on it too long. He's used to it now, even though JP rarely shows off his ears and tail and flat-out refuses to let him look at him in his natural state if he can help it, even though Vladimir's seen him before volph-like and he's so fucking adorable.

Vladimir does not give them ear scritches. His soul cries out for it but he doesn't want to treat his cute alien boyfriend like a dog because that's kind of fucked up. JP redirects his hand to their ears. They're so soft and velvety and it's so fantastic that he'd cry if he didn't have to be strong in the face of JP's great tragedy. Life is good sometimes.

"My mother was right," they sniffle. "I'll never be able to keep up a household. I can't even bake a cake. It has instructions on the side of the box, Vladimir. How could I fuck something up so basic?"

He gives his ears a real good rub. A pink tail makes itself known and thumps against the sofa. They are so fucking cute.

"These things are hard, my love. You cannot get them right on the first try, sometimes not the fifth. Also, fuck that woman."

JP lets out a sad little sound of disbelief and mashes their face further against his chest. Vladimir has the distinct feeling how JP might need to be comforted through the terrible trauma of messing up a cake and he is perfectly fine with that.

"I'm older than this solar system and I can't do simple tasks. I can't provide for anyone. I'm a mess of a human, darling. I used to be so put-together and now I need you to solve all my problems. It's not fair to you."

Okay, so this is definitely not really about a cake. Most things with JP aren't about what JP thinks they're about: the impulse purchases, their petty grudges against people they barely know, their insistence on wearing a suit at all possible times.

"You've solved a lot of my problems. I can solve some of yours," he replies. "Besides, solving problems for people is kind of sexy, don't you think?"

The earns a snort and another thump of a tail against the sofa.

"Maybe a little," they say.

They gather in the kitchen to inspect the problem: a still-warm cake still sitting in the cake pan. It looks a little funny, like maybe JP threw a bunch of flavors into it, which is probably the case. It's probably still good though.

"I greased it with butter like they said but I just can't get it out of the pan," Jean-Paul explains, his tail drooping.

Okay. Okay, this isn't a big deal. It's just a cake. Vladimir can solve it. Jean-Paul has the weak arms of a baby even though they can make themself buff at any time, so they probably weren't applying enough force.

Vlad picks it up, turns it upside down, and gives it a good thump because that seems right. Probably. Vlad doesn't bake but it can't possibly be that hard.

The cake doesn't budge. He thumps it again. Still nothing. A third time. Nothing again. Okay, Vladimir's got a pretty strong arm because he lifts for fun, so this has got to be a pretty powerful cake right here.

"I already tried that. It's stuck."

"It's just a cake. How hard can it be? Do not worry, I will get it out. Do not fret, my dear Mr. Poinsette."

Vladimir does not get it out, no matter how hard he thumps it. It has defeated him. His hand kind of hurts even though it's just a dinky little cake pan made of aluminum or some shit. He hopes this isn't an indication that he's getting old but he's sixty, so he guesses he is old now.

He tries not to think about his advancing age too much. Mortality is unpleasant. If someone offered him the chance for immortality, he'd take it in an instant. Humanity's highly overrated.

"It's fucked, darling. I'm going to have to throw the whole thing out, aren't I? And I spent my entire paycheck on baking supplies."

Okay, they're definitely going to have a conversation about that because Jean-Paul's throwing his money away left and right on frivolous things lately and that usually means he's going to spiral down into one of his bleak moods, but that's going to wait a bit.

"No, I'm going to get this," Vladimir declares. "Hold on."

He takes a detour to the closet for a second and returns with something that's sure to get that stubborn cake out if he can't rely on his own arm.

"I'm sorry, darling, is that a hammer?"

He doesn't understand why JP's looking at him aghast. It just needs to be thumped real hard.

"It's a mallet. Do not worry, I will be gentle with it. I won't dent it."

This is a really good idea. Vladimir's helping. He feels so proud of himself for his ingenuity.

"No, absolutely not, you're not taking a mallet to my cake."

"I'd be taking it to the cake pan," Vladimir says, which is the wrong thing to say. Paulie snatches up the mallet and shoves it into the junk drawer, which is not where tools go but whatever, this is JP's place, they can do whatever they want.

"Nope, we're done here. I'm throwing in the towel. My cake's a failure," Jean-Paul declares as he moves to throw it away.

"No, no, I can still save this. Let me save this."

He can tell by the look in their eyes that they don't actually believe their mistake can be salvaged but they let him try anyway. He can pry this out with a knife. He's pretty sure that's a thing people do, right? It doesn't look nonstick, so it should be fine. Vladimir will provide for his greedy little alien. This is a test not only of his ability as a partner but his very manhood itself.

His gaze falls on a novelty paw-shaped spatula. This has to be better than a knife: more surface area. He brandishes it like a weapon.

"Don't eat all the frosting," he says. "We're going to save this cake."

Vlad takes the spatula and carefully slides the spatula in between the cake and the pan to loosen it. He's doing it. He's freeing this cake. When he's done, he flips it over and half of it falls off onto the waiting plate below while the rest remains behind.

Oh. That isn't right.

"Well, we tried," JP says with a sigh. "The only thing left is to throw it all away, I guess. I'm never doing this again. Baking's overrated."

Maybe this can still be saved.

"Hey, no, listen to me: it's still good. Just put some icing on top and some ice cream and say it's a crumble. Maybe don't take it to your party though."

The icing immediately melts off because the cake's still too warm. JP throws way too much ice cream on it because of his innate volph sensibilities. The cake/crumble is too moist and tastes a little like pistachio pudding. It's not great but he's not going to say that.

Vladimir still eats every bite.

#ooc #drabble

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vidimillion · 4 years

Note

Jasico in Atlantis/Treasure Planet &/or Pirates AU?? Mostly just thinking about that fantasy treasure huntin' adventure flavor...

it took a while for me to get the time to write this and even longer to get the inspo for it. honestly was a blast to think up tho. thanks for the req!

jason grace is the son of the king, groomed to one day be the one to take the throne. whether he liked it or not.

the young prince was the king's ideal son— handsome, smart, athletic, kind... the picture perfect image of a leader. a young man who liked to read stories about adventure and ride horseback into the kingdom, where he'd look at the other kids his age, playing around.

look. look, and never join.

his older sister thalia, the ex-crown princess, has not been seen since jason was a little kid. at least, not officially, because in reality she had been visiting her baby brother in secret for years. she'd been on the run the whole time, but always found a way to come back to her brother.

jason loves her, he does, but he resents her a little for leaving the pressure of the kingdom (and their father) on him. though every time he asks her, she only smiled at him and whispered, "don't worry about anything. I have a plan."

he never understood what she meant. he wanted to believe her, but as his eighteenth birthday and thus his coronation grows closer, he still doesn't even know what he's supposed to be believing in.

a few weeks shy of his coronation, thalia asks him to meet her at the beach three days before the big day. he never expects her visits, them being few and far between, so her setting a schedule was a surprise to him. he worries about being caught, with their father doubling down on security as the coronation draws closer. she insists though, and jason yields. three days before his coronation, he sneaks out to go to the beach, but she isn't there.

he walks around for a little while, trying to look for her, and for a second he worries that she was caught by someone while she was waiting for him. before he can begin to freak out, he hears a low hum in the distance. he walks around the beach, by the rocks, and decides to try the cliff to find the source of it. by the time the cliff is in view, the humming starts to sound like a baritone song. his mind doesn't think to question it, doesn't recognize anything amiss, and before he realizes it he's running for the cliff's edge and he's staring straight down into the sea.

when he wakes up, it takes his hearing a while to come back, and the first thing he notices is the moon is still high in the sky.

"—lure him into the water, I didn't want you to make him jump off a cliff!"

that voice sounds like thalia, jason thought, the first coherent thing he's conceptualized in a while.

"I can't help where he goes, I just tell him to go!"

that sounds like the voice he heard before he jumped.

"hey, he's awake."

that voice sounds... hot.

jason's eyes open to a black-haired, olive-skinned boy with a jawline that could cut fucking glass. he mumbles groggily, "Did I die?"

Hot Guy smiles like jason told him a half-funny joke, "Why do you think you did?"

jason groaned like he was both in pain and was immensely tired. "You look like an angel."

that was definitely not the answer Hot Guy expected, because he immediately flushes red and sputters. jason's eyes focus behind the Hot Guy and sees thalia wolf whistling at him, and a fucking siren with a long sea-green tail bursting into laughter. "You're not dead Jay," thalia says, "but we're definitely very far from home."

(more under the cut. like a lot more.)

apparently, his beloved sister became a fucking pirate after running away. jumping from ship to ship, she’d been gaining a reputation for herself before pledging her loyalty to one of the most formidable pirate crews on the seven seas (and the only one that's all-female). the 'plan' she'd had, that she'd foreshadowed for almost years, was just to get her half-siren friend percy (who can apparently go from siren to human form at will, which jason thinks is awesome) to lure jason into the sea where they could get him.

jason politely admits that it sounds super stupid. thalia does agree, but enforces the fact that it did work.

the ship jason is currently on is apparently, percy's. he's the captain of a crew of five, six if you include him, named hazel, frank, leo, piper and annabeth. thalia just likes to visit sometimes.

they're tiny, and they're all very young, but jason's doubts about their capabilities vanish once percy tells him that people call them the six. jason's heard of them, obviously— his father has been trying to catch them for months now. his father was already furious knowing he wasn't able to capture a crew so small in size, imagine what would happen if he found out the oldest one of all of them is nineteen.

jason, on his first few days on the ship, feels numb. thalia had percy set him up in the med bay, at the back of the ship where the only thing he can hear is the crash of water. he thinks about his kingdom, his father— what was he going to do without an heir? what was the kingdom going to do without a king? he feels relieved, he feels guilty, he feels like he's failing the one thing he was born to do and feels like he has a chance to pick what he wants to do.

jason closes his eyes, thinking, and doesn't notice someone had come in until a cold hand lays on his forehead. he jolts his eyes open and it's nico, the Hot Guy who was with thalia and percy. nico tells him he was just checking jason's temperature and he turns to leave, but jason stops him and asks him to stay. there was "no" already on the tip of his tongue, but jason didn't stand for it. nico desisted, only to wonder why jason was so adamant about making him stay.

jason asks why percy didn't call him a part of the crew. hesitantly, nico tells him it's because he isn't. he's not an official pirate of any crew, and instead runs around ship to ship and coast to coast, either striking deals with the more reasonable pirates or taking out crews of them all on his own.

jason asks him why he keeps moving around like that. as a short answer, nico tells him it's for his father's work. jason feels like there's more to it than that, but he doesn't push.

the medicine thalia insisted he take was making him a little loopy. he barely recalls what he was saying, but apparently it was stupid enough to make nico laugh and respectful enough to make him stay. the medicine doesn't make him too loopy for very long, just a few hours, but the next night when jason found himself wanting company again, he played stupid so nico would stay with him.

(hazel, nico's half sister and apparently the only reason he sometimes travels with their ship for a few days, was the one in charge of taking care of him while he was forcefully bedridden. he realized she knew what he was doing when all three of them were talking one day and she gave him a thumbs-up behind nico's back.)

nico leaves once jason's off bed rest. he asks hazel whether or not she knows when they're gonna pick him up again, and she tells him the week and a half he was there with them was actually the longest time he's ever stayed.

he keeps asking for a while after nico's left. after four weeks, he stops asking.

six months later, they pick nico up again at a bustling port. it's also the same port where jason decides to leave.

jason spends the first night off the ship in a warm little inn, but he doesn't sleep. he thinks he really should sleep more when he didn't realize a fucking intruder got into his room until he heard the soft thump of their feet on the floor. he gets into a melee battle with the black-hooded figure, still quick on his feet even though he hasn't slept in weeks, but eventually the intruder has him pinned down to the nearest flat surface. jason almost bites them before the figure rips off their mask to reveal— it's just nico.

somehow, they end up sitting on the roof of the inn, sharing a bottle of wine nico denies he stole but jason absolutely knew he did.

nico asks jason why he decided to leave the crew, even after getting so irreversibly close with all of them— which he knows jason did.

jason answers that by telling him about his kingdom, back across at least three seas by now. he tells nico about how the town square shines gold almost all hours of the day and glows even at twilight, but the further you get from the kingdom gates the more you see filthy alleys and dirty children. he tells nico about the times he'd go into town in disguise and see how many horrendous things are happening, then eavesdrop on council meetings and figure out why.

he also tells nico about his father, and he keeps it as brief as he can but nico understands what he means.

he tells nico he has to go back, get his kingdom and his crown no matter what chaos he knows would've erupted. he thinks of the councilmen, of dukes and lords he knows will be doing anything for a chance at the throne, now that the crown prince is missing. he tells nico about them, then he tells nico about his people, and he doesn't need to tell nico the rest to know he gets it.

nico still asks why he has to be the one to go back, when on the sea he has percy, piper, leo, thalia, freedom. in return, jason asks why nico is always running.

because i have to, is the answer to both their questions. maybe i'm wrong, but i think i have to.

three days later, after additional goodbyes and promises to write, they start a journey back to jason's kingdom. jason tells nico he shouldn't come, that it'll be a journey of peril that won't get any easier when they do get to the kingdom— nico just glares at him and continues to pack two horses even more aggressively. jason relents.

so now it's just the two of them, both running back and running away, but at least this time they've got a friend.

#jasico #pjo #jason grace #nico di angelo #percy jackson #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #pirate au #royal au #(???)#my writing

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seeneverything · 3 years

Text

today i decided to replay nick’s dlc! not only to catch back up and remain canon, but to look into his journals and the notes / environment around a little deeper to see if i can discover anything more about him, the game’s story, and the timeline of the game.

i have to say it somewhat surprised me that nick has handwriting that’s legible. i figured it would be similar to sally’s -- very here and there with hardly any grammar, punctuation, and horrendous spelling. yet nick’s journals though brief, are quite linguistic. a pleasant surprise.

but without further ado, my metas are under the cut! a very long read so i hope you enjoy it. i tried my best to divide it into some sort of organization as i could. <3

GENERAL LORE :

ever wondered what an original joy bottle looks like? well, nick has one.

it’s tucked in the far back in his kitchen, behind a light on his shelf. initially i thought it was some random drug and it was more proof of the dlc being pre-game. but if you look closer, the words underneath wellington wells’ emblem say “EVERY DAY, JOIN THE FUN” which is a clear indication of what it actually was. and beside the emblem, just to the right, if you really squint, it says “FLAVOR:” but it’s hidden and you can’t sneak around to the other side. however, considering how old it is, especially from the wear and tear on the sticker, one could probably imagine it being haworth’s own vanilla.

which intrigues me. i wouldn’t doubt that nick was one of the very first people who got the initial batches. virgil dainty found him when he was still a young poet in his teenage years. meaning he probably snatched him when he was around 16. if we play it out like he was 16 when the train came and took all 13 and under, nick would be around 32 during the base game. but i honestly doubt that since the make believes released more singles than albums, and they released the album around the time of strawberry’s release, as inferred by the cover of the album. so for now and to me, nick is somewhere between mid-late 30s.

speaking of joy though, does anyone remember the whole debate about the type of joy nick was taking in the dlc? it wasn’t any type at all. in fact, it was something sally made herself.

“Vibing my guitar always helps me remember things. Like where I put my Sally Specials.”

Those reds and yellows are just another one of the many street drugs that Sally sells to her clients. Probably something like rainbow and the like, but much, much weaker and not as long-lasting. After all, Nick has to take five at one time to black out. Probably at least three of them to feel any sort of a buzz at all. ( as a side note, it personally makes me wonder if sally had anything to do with the production phlash. i’d love to see if there were any notes of it anywhere. )

I had a headcanon a while back that the woman using the power cell was using a sex toy. After all, she has a suitcase that’s cleverly hidden under her bed. If Nick believes it’s this, it makes sense that he’s aware of the “fun part of town,” unlike Arthur and Ollie once in the Parade. Yes, he goes there for sex and relief, but also because he makes deals with the owners to sell adult-themed merch. Wouldn’t be surprised if there were dildos, lube, even lingerie like Nick’s threads -- very, very plausible if there are full sex dolls.

With the Sally Specials and the Joy Bottle being so old, it could still be proof that it’s pre-game as well. After all, if Nick is still around Sally ONLY to obtain to drugs from her, then it could be easily inferred. After all, Sally remembers her time with Nick in the past together, not in the present. And that is pre-1964.

A LITTLE MORE ABOUT NICKY :

it’s absolutely no secret that nick hates himself. from the scratches on the mirror that hide his face and spell “USELESS,” to the inferred suicidal attempts from downing entire bottles of joy with alcohol. the puke is always so rancid in the sink. but there’s also this, too.

it’s funny how nick tends to keep scratching at his head and his eyes. the persona is who he’s trying to cover up i imagine, considering that there are multiple voicelines in the game that says he never meant to cause any harm. and he never meant to commit all the unpleasantries that come with being a rockstar. one of them being infidelity and adultery, and another being a general asshole to the public. overtime i believed that nick gained celebrity syndrome. which is essentially just being a karen on steroids. nick believes he doesn’t need to pay for anything, and he also has the innate ability to give orders to people. just because, in his mind, he’s the best in the world. the avalon’s manager wants to get back at him once and for all for his bossy attitude. but he’s not the only one who feels that, either.

petunia does as well.

nick’s love-life is an extremely complicated one. aside from the the various forms of substance abuse and exposure to said substances, nick has always had his rockstardom become the center of his universe. see, this is all headcanon but, i personally believe that nick was coddled as a child by his overbearing mother. mama told him the world would love him. and mama told him that the world would never hurt him, and that it would be perfect and easy to get through. but then he saw just how hurtful people could be, and just how much hate the world had to offer. and to him, at that. it was extremely difficult to find love in anything and anyone. especially himself. so finding petunia was very, very reassuring. after all, she did promise him, as nick said during the boss fight, to be the lighthouse on all his rocky shores. indicating that she would be the one to lead him back home, and make him stable. and i’m sure for a while, it did.

canonically, until nick lightbearer overtook norbert pickles. he found so many more people who loved him that way. and thus, he let the life of his own stardom take over everything else. including his love life. even more so when the birds threatened hatred and slander to his name if they couldn’t shag him. and if they didn’t manipulate him, nick was so afraid of losing another fan that he wouldn’t care. it felt good anyway, why not fuck people? he keeps a fan, doesn’t worry about being hated, and keeps the life of love toward him going.

not even thinking about petunia in the process. and instead of showing him that he didn’t need all the fans, instead of showing him that he needed to remain faithful and loyal, she lashed out and belittled him from every other corner. though he did deserve it for encouraging her into polygamy and bigamy and definitely by his demanding attitude(later in the note it mentions how he was a henpicker), she did not help his mental state in any capacity. petunia, the moment she didn’t help him anymore and show him the love he thought she promised him, became nothing more than someone who belittled him. truthfully nick never meant to hurt her, but it’s seen through his celebrity ideology that he truly believes in quantity over quality. a sad shame. nick’s mental state is so fucked he doesn’t even really know what true love is by this point. meaning he could potentially be easily manipulated without realization.

despite all this though, i found this to be especially intriguing:

a little hard to read, but this is during the scene before he fights the fans at the contest. his journal reads:

“They think I’m an IMPERSONATOR? Have I lost the Lightbearer aura? How much lower can I sink?”

this heavily implies that nick sets his own idolism over his chances of being a murderer. meaning that somewhere, deep in the crevasse of his subconscious, nick is so desperate for some true love and still can’t grasp hatred that he is clinging onto his persona for as much love as he can. even if it’s fake. thrice as intriguing when one learns that, during his breakdowns, he always explains how he wants his fans to know who he really is:

“i wonder if i remember how to sound polite,” “things are sure to look up once i’m not soaked in hemoglobin.”

an intelligent, young man who was so wrongly brought up into the world by an attached mother who never taught him what punishment really was. nick has been using his celebrity name as a clutch for so long that he’s having difficulty remembering who he really was, or if he can ever be norbert pickles again. he cannot handle being a celebrity, and he never could because of what his mother taught him and grew him to be. yet somewhere deep down, he knows his true self is there. but what nick doesn’t know how to do is accept the hatred of the world enough, especially to him, in order to ever take norbert pickles out.

it’s a constant mish-mash. he can hardly handle the hatred from being a celebrity, but what he does handle from stardom is what keeps him going with it. a war between nick lightbearer and norbert pickles. but neither side has proper ammo because the battlefield is strife with a lack of vegetation.

nick lightbearer in himself is an irony. he shines so bright for everyone around him but yet truly, the light is most needed for himself.

#; 🎸 | META DRABBLES .#tw: suicide mention #suicide mention tw #( SECOND ATTEMPT HERE WE GO )#( SODFBJFDSFBNGF )#( I AM SO PROUD OF ALL THIS!! )#( it took me a few hours to compile this all together so <3 )#( i'm v confident in it )#( no wonder why it's sympathy for the lightbearer gbogfdnsrk )

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chubbyheroesworthyheroes · 4 years

Note

Oh, wait, that should have been Xander + 🐷. Sorry.

I got you, Nonnie!

Being the crown prince of Nohr was no easy task.

Xander was highly aware of his luck in life compared to those that lived on the harsh streets of Nohr’s cities; he did not want for food or shelter, and he had access to healers and teachers. But, still, there was a price to pay for his station. The weight of the country had long since been set upon his shoulders, and as next in line, Xander had been forced to grow into that expectation. He had done his utmost to always please his father where possible, and to show the people that he was a worthy ruler – once his time to take the throne arrived, of course.

Xander had spent much of his youth training his mind and body, learning any and all skills that were deemed beneficial to have in his arsenal as future king. He didn’t have a talent for magic or even any supremely impressive strength as a boy, so he’d had to strive for every achievement he’d made in life. It had been difficult at times, but it was worth it to know that he would be a capable leader to the people and country he so dearly loved.

Still, in spite of how Xander did his best to be what his country and people needed, some were impossible to please. The courts were a battlefield on all levels, and rarely did courtiers play fair. Nohr was all about getting as far up as you could, no matter what sorts of dirty tactics you had to employ. And, if the heir to the throne was somehow…no longer considered viable to the King, that could open up doors for others waiting to pounce at the chance.

Hexes were rather prevalent in Nohr, after all, and so very difficult to trace…

It had been the usual affair with the courts. A gala, one of the many excuses for the elite to throw a party. His father, Garon, wasn’t one for these sorts of events – not unless it was actually important – so the duty of making a showing from the royal family fell to Xander. Socializing wasn’t something the crown prince took any pleasure in, but he handled it like any other duty – even if he would rather be looking after his younger siblings, and helping them find their way in the complex life of Nohrian royalty.

The night dragged on horrendously. It was all empty chitchat and baseless rumors from nobles, hanging off his arm and nipping at his heels every time he thought he’d gotten away. Xander kept his head, though, doing his best to placate without actually giving them the attention they craved for whatever verbal trap they were attempting to set.

Of course, working through the mire of conversations was bad enough, but many courtiers did their best to ply information or favors out of him with food and drink. They didn’t let up at all that night, and while the portions were small, Xander could feel his stomach gurgling with the discomfort of bloat after too many politely accepted plates or glasses.

One of the ladies must have caught on to his slight discomfort, giggling conspiratorially and handing him a thin glass with a pink, bubbling drink. She tittered on about how she often overate at these sorts of events, too, but that she always knew what drinks to look for in order to quell an unsettled stomach. Xander forced an appreciative smile onto his face, and dutifully drank from the glass as the woman winked and left to go talk the ear off some other nobleman. The drink fizzled strangely in his mouth and down his throat, making his eyes water the faintest bit as he finished it. It was cloyingly sweet in its flavor, almost to the point of Xander fearing he’d become ill right then and there, before a heavy, calming sensation hit his roiling gut. Sighing in relief as the bloated feeling started to recede, Xander continued with his duty of small talk.

It wasn’t until later in the night, perhaps an hour or two after drinking that bubbly liquid, that Xander felt something was very, very wrong.

The gala was in full swing, not even that late into the night, when the prince found himself spacing out during conversations. Highly unusual behavior, even in the times where he was exhausted, Xander was quick to excuse himself when he realized he couldn’t recall a single thing that had been said to him in the past few minutes. Walking slow and steady through the glamorized mass of nobility, Xander made it out into one of the hallways without any real issue – despite the way his head felt as if it were filled with fuzz, and his limbs moved sluggish and clumsy. Leaning against the wall, he took several steadying breaths – and was immediately assaulted with the overwhelmingly delectable scents that were coming from the kitchens.

Elegant in their own right, as most things were that Garon took pride in, the castle’s kitchens were a sight to behold. A bustling, culinary city within its own walls; Nohr lacked a great many things when it came to food, but procuring items and those who knew how to cook them best for his own personal kitchen was something the King seemed to take pleasure in collecting. Whether by fair payment or by force, they were never wanting at the royal tables.

The courts glutted themselves among fine furs and jewels, while many of the common folk eked out a brutal living in the dark and the dirt.

Xander had never been exceptionally keen on this particular perk of royal life, but right now, he found himself inexplicably drawn to the smell of rich, succulent food. His feet were moving with hardly a thought from himself, a strange desperation rising in him – as if he were starving, hadn’t eaten in days, though he knew that couldn’t be right after everything he’d already eaten that night.

The kitchen was warm – almost stiflingly so – as he entered, staff hurrying about to keep up with the demands of the party-goers. Their work didn’t end until everyone had gone for the night, of course. So busy were they, in fact, that they barely noticed the prince stumble in. With his hands pressed harshly against his rumbling stomach, as if applying enough pressure could silence the noises, Xander nearly whimpered at the amount of food before him. Fresh ingredients, food in the process of being cooked, and dishes waiting to be brought out to the nobility milling about several rooms away.

The hunger suddenly spiked to a painful lurch in his gut, and despite the voice in the back of his head, telling him that it would be wrong to do so, Xander found himself reaching for one of the set plates of food. There was plenty to go around, one part of his brain told him, it wouldn’t be missed if he took one or two things just to get him passed this strange onslaught of hunger. He just needed a little something to quiet his stomach, and then he could return to the gala. The prince grabbed something small, something that should have been enough – but as soon as he took a bite of the sweet, sugar-topped tart, everything spiraled completely out of control. His focus seemed to narrow down to just the food in front of him, and he couldn’t stop himself from attacking the dishes like his life depended on it.

It was a flurry of desperate gluttony, perfectly manicured hands soon becoming messy as he haphazardly grabs food and shovels it into his mouth, similarly dirtying his face and the front of his clothes as he does so. Plates clatter and tip over and off the table they’re set on in his haste to eat, and while this doesn’t immediately catch the attention of the staff in the already noisy kitchens, the prince’s presence doesn’t remain unnoticed forever.

In his ravenous state, Xander doesn’t notice the way his features were changing, morphing with every bit of food sloppily shoved into his mouth.

With every mouthful of food or drink gulped and swallowed down, his toned stomach seemed to bulge out, unable to hide for long against the extravagant clothes he was wearing for the evening. They had just enough looseness earlier in the evening that Xander had been quite comfortable, but, as his body started to bloat and inflate with supple fat, the tunic and trousers were quickly becoming too tight against him. With the noise and mess he was making, it didn’t take long for the cooks and other staff to notice him, but outside of voicing their shock, they were at a loss for what to do; seeing the crown prince gorge himself without a care in the world was bizarre enough, but seeing him transform right before their very eyes was something else entirely.

Ties on his shirt were snapping against the burgeoning pressuring of his fattening breasts, the hem of his tunic steadily rising over his swelling stomach – having untucked from the expanding flesh taking up more and more space before it simply couldn’t hold back the weight of it anymore. His trousers, having been a close fit previously, weren’t holding up much better; seams tearing open helplessly to expose the plush flesh of his ass and thighs.

Above the plump swell of his ass, where the waist of his trousers had been forced down on fat hips, a curly pig’s tail pokes out of his tail bone. Among curly, blond hair, pale ears flop down against his skull; the tips managed to get in the way as he continued to glut himself, staining the pale pink skin with food debris and sauces. His face – a complete, sloppy mess of food at this point – slowly but steadily pushed out into something akin to a pig’s upturned snout.

Of course, he ran out of food after a while, and as soon as he did, the mad rush of trying to cram whatever he could into his mouth was broken. Seeing the utter mess and embarrassment of himself, Xander felt his chubby cheeks heat up with shame. Luckily, it had been a relatively small amount of people who had seen him acting like…well, like a pig, and it would be easy enough to deny any rumours as nothing more than unflattering hearsay from castle staff. But, if this was some sort of magic, that would mean getting the spell reversed by one of Nohr’s skilled magic users. And, of course, to do something like that, it meant groveling to his father.

Xander couldn’t stifle a nervous, piggish squeal at the thought of his father seeing him in such a disastrous state. He was sure there would be hell to pay for having fallen for such an easy ploy to begin with, but extra on top for coming out of the entire ordeal looking like a fat pig…

#Anonymous #male weight gain #male wg #pig transformation #pig tf #chubby!xander

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leejeeno · 5 years

Text

Liability | College Student AU! Mark Lee.

Description: “I understand, I’m a liability, get you wild, make you leave, I’m a little much for everyone” (Lorde - Liability.) You are head over heels for Mark. You really are. However, every time you get together you break up with him moments later, creating this endless circle of getting back together only for you to break up with him. It’s always like that. Until he meets her. Until he gets tired of your game.

Genre: angst | fluff | humor Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader Warnings: Mention of past abusive relationship (nothing physical happened and the abuse is not described), reader has low self-steem.

Word Count: 13.100+ (it got too long, sorry.)

You are sitting in the counter of Chenle's massive kitchen. A loud song is playing in the background, some top charts pop with a happy beat. You are sipping from a red cup, filled with flavored vodka, looking like the cliché sad college student in a frat party.

Except, that you can't count Chenle's house as a fraternity no matter how the boys almost live here as they expend more time in the large living room than they do at they own dorms.

Chenle is the rich boy that has the soul of an angel. An economic major. He lives alone in a house that has way more room than a family of six can need. He parents rented it for him as they always spend a horrendous amount of money on the boy in a way to make up for their emotional detachment. Chenle is a lonely boy that loves his friends more than he lets go and for that he always makes sure that his house is filled with them.

You meet Mark in one of Chenle's famous party. It was Jaemin who invited you, even though you didn't him past the girl's rumors, only recognizing him as the loud and funny guy from your English literature class. You said yes because you like to drink and you like to dance so it couldn't be bad.

It really wasn't. You met Mark in the roof of the house. He was drunk and watching the stars, you were slightly sober and trying to hide from all the loud and drunk people from the party. Mark met you with adorable brown eyes that burned into your figure.

He had a blond hair at the time, all messed up and pointing into every direction making him look like a little lion. His cheeks were puffed and slightly red and his lips were pouted. He looked like a major happy idiot and if that isn't exactly the type of man that you like.

"Sorry" you awkwardly stuttered. "Didn't know there was someone in here."

Mark lips twitched and he smiled drunkenly at you.

"Nah," he chuckled and made a weird movement with his hand. "It is alright, roof is big enough."

You sat close to him and spread your hands back to give you support. You stared at the dark sky and left a breath of relief from being away from so many people after hours and hours of partying.

"It can be too much, 'ight?" Mark said, his raspy voice breaking the silence. "The party."

"Oh, yeah." you nod your head in an agreement.

"Jaemin is the one organizing it. He is... a little too much." Mark said with a click of his tongue. "But he is a really good friend! Don't get me wrong, ok?"

"I won't" is all you offered him, biting the inside of your cheek because you couldn’t think of anything else to say.

He smiled at you again, his drunkenly expression shifting to a sweeter one and your lips couldn’t help but copy his. Mark looked at your bottom lip, then at your eyes and then at the stars. He leaves a laugh and so do you and neither of you bot knows why you were laughing.

You both had stayed in the roof all night, talking about life and the future, your childhood and the past, and what you two want to do after college ends. Mark gets sober and sober but he never stops smiling in that soft happily way, he never gets up to leave and he never changed from who he was when he was drunk. He remained a happy idiot thought all night.

Then, when the sun was starting to rise, he looked at you with shine in his eyes and happiness all over his face. At the roof, at that time, he looked at you like you were the most precious thing that he has ever seen, like he could write poems and songs about the night that he had just spent with you, and you feel your heart blooming with spring flowers, filling with summer warmth and april excitement. You feel butterflies in your stomach and you can't help but ask.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling way to nervous. "Can I kiss you?" you whispered.

Mark wetted his plump lips with his tongue and nodded his head, getting closer and closer until you felt his erratic breath fanning against your face, you could already taste the alcohol and an artificial strawberry flavor. His slender finger slid along your cheeks and then settled in your jawline, pushing your head upward towards his face.

"You are the most beautiful of things." his mouth moved along yours in the most romantic thing that you had ever heard.

After that, you two were a thing. Walking around campus with fingers entwined, laughing about some inside jokes, stealing kisses before classes, making your head spin with adoration and secretly glancing at each other with eyes filled with love and devotion.

He introduced you to the Dream Boys, as he called his group of friends and you laughed at that name but also thought that it was one of the cutest things that you have ever heard. Just like their friendship.

You had dates, you had amazing sex, you hold hands, you went to late night adventures, you said you loved him for the first time and he said it back with tears in his eyes. Loving Mark was like an endless summer, you never fought, you both loved each other like it could never end.

But it did. Again, and again and again. Because if Mark is summer then you are winter. You aren't exactly cold but you are dry and afraid. You doubt yourself too much and always kept thinking that he was way too good for you, that you didn't deserve this happiness and all those thoughts made sure that you always broke up with him. One, two, three, four and even five times you got away from him but he always found his way back to you. Mark tried to break the iceberg that is your own insecurity so many times that eventually he got tired.

That's why, now, you are drinking alone in one of your best friend's party while Mark is laughing and dancing with her. His new girlfriend, the one he met after you broke up with him for the sixth time with a lazy excuse.

Now, you understand why regret is one of the worst feelings that a human being can feel.

"Jeno!" you drawl, calling him. "Can you help me with the assignment for the creative writing class?"

Jeno is one of the best things that Mark gave to you. He is one of the Dream Boys and an English major just like you, he is soft, kind and has the humor of an old man. He is always trying to help and please others whenever he can and his smile can bright everyone's day. When you last expected you two were already best friends.

"Sure, can do" he quietly reply, smiling delicate at you, and brings the library chair he is sitting in closer to you.

"What word did you get?" you question him full of curiosity. In your creative writing class, the teacher came one day with a bucket filled with small papers, which one having a single word written in then, and everyone had to pick one, read your word and write a whole ass poem with that single word to guide you.

"Everlasting." he answers showing you his white piece of paper. "So, I wrote about an everlasting love, you know the typical thing."

You almost feel jealous of Jeno because everything that he writes come out looking like a fine masterpiece even when he writes it at 5am, rushing to get it done before his 8am class. He writes about lost, love and happiness like he can understand every feeling. However, in real life, you know Jeno is, sometimes, just awkward as you are.

"Ugh, that should have been me." you complain, taking the end of your pencil between your teeth.

Jeno laughs as you huff once again and leans back into your chair. He finger-flicks you in your forehead and you soon brings your palm to the hurting place.

"Why are you doing that to me?" you quirk a brown.

"Because you are doubting your writing skills again, Y/N" you best friend reply with a firm voice that doesn't opens space for jokes or fights. "Now, c'mon, what is your word?"

You lift one finger for him to wait and with the other hand you fish for the paper inside your jacket pocket. You show it to him.

"Relationship." you huff frustratedly.

"Oof!" Jeno brings his hand to his heart and give you a sympathy looks. "That hits too close to home."

"Yep. And I don't want to write about him but I also don't know what to write about and that's why I need your help."

Jeno doesn't say nothing about a moment and you just know that he is thinking really hard if he should force you to talk about the big man in question or if he should just let it go. He knows you are avoiding talking about it with him, because Jeno is the one that can see through you like you are made of class. Your words aren't enough to distract him from how much your heart is hurting, at this point he knows you like the palm of his hand and always catch you falling into your old habit of doubting yourself.

Finally, Jeno opts for the second option and you can't help but feel immense relief filling your small body.

"Ok, I will help you."

You are almost done with your poem, writing about a perfect relationship of a modern married couple. You are almost happy with the way it is all coming along, almost feeling confident in your writing. That goes down the drain when you see Mark in of one the halls of your campus.

His hair is black now and you know that she was the one that helped him dye it, because you have the worst impulse of checking his Instagram story even though you know you shouldn’t. He posted innumerous videos where you could see the reflection on the mirror, he laughing at someone that was at his side, he teasing that someone in a lovely way and then, almost in the end, you could hear her calling him babe and telling for him to stop, her voice mixing with her laugh. You blocked your phone instantly, not wanting to risk to see a photo of them both.

You are going and he is coming and you know that you will walk by him and there is no scape but having to talk to him for one of the first times since you two broke up for good. You don't know what to say but your feet aren't stopping and neither is his. He has a weird look on his face and you can't tell if he is sad or if he pities you.

You two get closer and you can feel your hands sweating and your bottom lips trembling. You clear your throat, swallowing nervously.

"Hey!" you greet your ex with a fake smile painted on your mouth. "Are you going to Chenle house this friday?"

A bunch of expression pass thought his face as you know that he didn’t expected for you to try to keep a conversation with him, and you can't catch any of the emotions but soon, he settles for a grin that is either a happy or an amused one. Either way you know that is a fake one because you know him too well. Despite of that, he doesn't point that you are also faking, so you retributes the favor.

"Yeah,” he trails off embarrassed. "It is a movie night right, just us?"

You let all the air that you were holding go and tightens your hold to the straps of your backpack. Hearing Mark saying just us opens a bunch of ideas and memories in your mind, things that you shouldn't be thinking about right now, in front of him. You remind that he isn't talking about you and him, about you two being a thing, he is simply saying that it will be just our group of friends. The Dream Boys and you, the girl that made your away into their lives so deeper that they couldn't let you go even after you broke up with one of them way too many times.

"Yep, missed those." you reply sheepishly, but honestly. "Not that I mind the parties but-"

"Jaemin and his parties can be a little too much, I feel you." Mark laughs breathlessly and shake his head.

You look down at your finger as you remember this phrase from a time where things were different. It seems like it was ages ago and you hate it.

"Mood" you simply nod at his words. "Well, see you then!"

Mark nods and then looks down to your face, right into your eyes, his gaze uncertain. You can see that there is too much stuff that he wants to say to you and too much stuff that you want to say to him. You also sees that it is too late and you can't find a place and time to say those things to him, and he can't gather the courage to voice out the things that he wants to say to you because he is happy with his new girlfriend, he really is, and he can't open old things that he isn't sure that later he will be able to close them again. So, for different but close reason, you two swallow your words.

"Okay," his voice is small and you barely catch it. "Be there-"

"Or be square, I know." you bite your lip, trying to suppress the nervous giggle that is trying to make its way up your throat. "I will see you friday."

Then you both walk away.

The week soon comes to an end and before you realize it is Friday after noon and Donghyuck is impatiently honking his car outside your apartment complex.

"Y/N you friend is here!" your roommate calls you from the living room. "It is that one that I always want to punch right on the face."

"Tell him that in coming, Bella!" you scream back from your room, gathering your pajamas and pushing them into your backpack as tonight everyone is planning on doing a slumber party.

"She is getting ready, jesus!" you hear Bella screaming angrily at the top of her lungs and the honking stop.

You get everything that you need and rushes for the front door but before you can exit you feel your roommate hands wrapping around your arm and stopping you.

"Why are you doing this?" she blurts out as soon as you look at her.

"Doing what?" you reply tilting your head in confusion.

"Going to his friend's house!"

"They are also my friends."

"But they were his friends first, not yours." she warns you in a caring tone.

"The relationship between me and Mark is over,” you sigh and pause. “but not my friendship with the boys. Everyone is mature enough to understand that."

"Fine!" Bella drop it taking her hands off of you but also points a finger at your face. "But don't say that I didn't warm you!"

You roll your eyes and slam the door behind you, repeating in your mind that Bella is just your friend and she is just worried, that nothing is going to happen, everything is alright and you two are mature enough to separate your relationship from the friendship that you both have with the boys. However, you can't stop from letting her words get to you.

You greet and joke with Donghyuck like nothing is wrong, you sing along with him to an old Taylor Swift song that no one needs to know that you two like, you laugh at his jokes and enjoy the ride as if you are just fine. Pretending that deep down you aren't thinking way too hard about the warnings of your roommate.

"Y/N? Y/N?" you are brought back to life with Donghyuck voice. "Chop chop, girl. We are here and I want to eat some popcorn before the guys eat it all."

"Oh." you whispers more to yourself than to your friend.

You grip your things and exit the car, embracing yourself for the worst.

The worst never came. What came is so horrendous that you don't even have a word for it.

Donghyuck pounds the door like an angry old man and you bump your shoulder into his to let him know that he needs to be gentler. It is Renjun who opens the door.

"Ah, it is the devil!" he grumbles with a monotone voice before turning to you and letting his expression become softer. "I'm not talking about you Y/N, you are a blessing and we are really thrilled that you are here."

"Is it Y/N?" you can hear Jeno screaming from somewhere inside the house but you can't answer because Renjun and Donghyuck starts bittering with each other.

"Guys!" you elevate your voice and put a hand in their shoulders. "Let get in and watch some gore horror movie, please!"

"Hell yeah!" they say in unison and finally you get into the house.

Jeno is the first one to come to you, giving you a big hug and whispering into your ear that you are his best friend and that he missed you and he loves you. You find it all too strange but Jeno is a needy boy so you simply pat his back, says that you love him to and let it go.

Then Chenle comes with popcorn and blankets.

"I reserved a whole couch for you, Y/N!" he informs you with a big proud smile.

"Well, you have like five couches so that isn't too hard." you joke and mess with his green hair. "But thank you. I would rather share it with you guys, I missed this!"

Then there is Jaemin who comes running into your direction and you don't even see him before he is slipping his arms over your shoulder in a protective way and bringing you close to him.

"You can share with me then!" he says with a flirty voice and a wink that doesn't really mean anything.

Jaemin guides you into the living room and as soon as you get there you realize why they are acting so strange and overprotecting.

There, in a chair that is too small for two, is Mark and his girlfriend. They are rolled up in a blanket, so close together that they almost look like one being. Mark has a gleam upon him as he looks at her face and her hands as she is talking about something that you can't hear from afar, but from the way her pink lips are moving and the hand gesturing that she is doing it seems to be a hell of a good story.

You had never seen her at a good lighting. You evited Mark like the plague once Jeno told you about his new relationship, taking different paths to get to your classes, eating lunch in the safety of your home or at Renjun's dorm, hiding in the kitchen when he brings her to a party.

You knew the basic about her because you couldn't help but bug Jaemin until he stopped his game and told you almost everything you wanted to know. Her name is Celeste and she is French but her family moved to Korea a few years back and she is just a junior at your college. He tells you that Mark met her at his chemistry class and you laughed bitter at the irony of it all. He tells you that she was the one who asked him out. From all the things that you heard here and there, she seemed like a smart, bubbly girl that just ooze confidence, and you gather all your strength to not hold it against her because you know it. You know it is nobody's fault but yours, you are the one who let him go and she was just lucky enough to be there to catch him. She did nothing wrong.

However, right there seeing they both wrapped in their own world, holding hands and looking at each other like the universe began and ended with them, you couldn't help but feel a nasty feeling rising in your guts.

Nobody told you how pretty she is, with her silk blond hair that falls into her back, her perfect nose and plump lips. Her smile. Her eyes. Her accent. Everything seems amazing and you can't help but compare yourself to her. You can't help but feel inferior at her presence.

You can feel yourself shaking, Jaemin hands on your shoulder, Jeno right at your side, but nothing makes your brain stops. You feel your doubt rising and you finally realize that there is no coming back. Every time that you broke up with him, Mark would navigate towards you again and you two would fit like a puzzle. It was an endless circle, on and off. And, poor you, that didn't realize until now that this circle has been broken as soon as Mark talked to her. Naive you that didn't realize that things really ended and this time there is nothing that can make you guys one again.

You are feeling like your heart is coming apart in a pathetic way, right there in the living room, for everyone to see. And then Mark gets away from his own world with Celeste, he looks at the guys and then, finally, he eyes settles on you.

He looks like a deer caught in the lights.

"Hi!" You greet them with a fake happy voice that almost sounds like a yelp.

Luckily, you are quick on your feet and manages to gather all your emotions before Mark can see them all.

"Hi." he reply quiet, softer than a whisper.

You can feel the tension in the air rising and it is making the situation all too weird but you don't know how to fix it. You are just standing there, in the center of the living room, looking at Mark and his new girlfriend like they aren't from this world.

Thank god that Jaemin comes to your rescue.

"Which couch do you want to sit?" his voice breaks through the uncomfortable atmosphere.

For some reason you point to the couch that is closest to the chair that the lovely couple is in. Jaemin doesn't comment on it, simply guiding you there and sitting at your side while he hands you the blanket. You can feel Mark's eyes following your actions and you can feel the other boys letting a big breath go as they are finally of the zone of gunfire.

Then, everyone gets settled in like nothing happened at all.

"What kind of gore are we going to watch today?" you question Chenle in the best imitation of a narrator voice that you can find.

Chenle clears his throat and opens his Netflix account.

"Ok, so, I know we always watch some gore movie with a lot of blood and stupid things like that," he starts and everyone in the room groans because you guys just know where he is going with it. "But! It's been a long time since we, you know, didn't get together being sober, so I thought we could watch an 80's movie about friendship and things like that, right?"

You hide your face into your knees because you already know that all of the boys are going to break into an argument.

"Please, I won't watch the Breakfast Club!" you hear Jisung voice rising above all of the others.

You let a huff leave your mouth and you can hear Jaemin laughing at your side, you take your head out of your hiding just to shoot him an ugly look, but that isn't enough to make him drop that stupid smirk of his.

"Let's do this," he screams really loud and everyone else stops. "Y/N should pick the movie."

"Why?" you splutter, choking because of his words.

"Because you are my favorite person in the room."

Jaemin shrugs his shoulders like it obvious and you roll your eyes at him. In the background you can hear Renjun and Jisung faking to be sick at the clinginess, Donghyuck booing and Jeno and Celeste laughing.

Jaemin winks at you and you turn your head to the other way, felling your cheeks getting redder. You know he means nothing about it, he is like that with everything that has a pair of legs, but even after almost one year of friendship you can't help but blush when he is acting like that.

At your periscope vision you can see that Mark is looking at you and Jaemin like you two are a mystery that is too hard to crack. That makes you snap out of your head.

"Ferris Bueller's Day Off?" you ask Chenle, uncertain.

"I thought you hated Ferris." his voice breaks in for the first time since you awkwardly greeted each other.

You look in his direction, but not at his face. You turn your attention to his hands that are seated in Celeste's thigh, making small circles with his thumbs. You sigh.

"I do." you answer honestly. "But is a classic, you know?"

Then you finally face him and with a force that you didn't even know you had, you send him a big smile.

"Oh, I hate him too!" she snoops in with her velvety like voice. "He is a douche."

You take a deep breath and lets out a fake giggle. Celeste is looking at you with nothing but good things in her expression, nothing but want to know you and to be close to the only girl in the room and you can't help but feel like you are going to be sick.

You don't think she is your enemy, but it is really hard to look at her and know that now she is the one that kisses Mark, now she is the one that jokes with him at ogle hours, she is the one who wakes him up to tell about her weird dreams, she is the one that holds his hands, make him smile. She is the one now. Not you.

"I guess we haven't met before, did we?" she frown her brows trying to remember about you.

"We didn't," you save her from all the thinking. "I'm Y/N! You are Celeste, right?"

"That's me!" her voice gets mixed with her warm laugh and you want to throw up.

You look around the room trying to find someone to save you as Mark seems to be just uncomfortable as you are. The first pair of eyes that sets on you is Jeno, of course, always there to help you.

"Ferris it is?" he asks with a soft voice and a knowing smile.

"Ferris it is!" before you can say anything Chenle screams and already press the play button on the movie.

After that, everything gets a like quitter. Jaemin puts an arm around you and you settle against his torso, the bucket of popcorn between you both.

Donghyuck is on a couch all by himself and you can see that he is half paying attention to the movie and half paying attention to his cellphone, as he finally got the number to the cute girl in his algebra class. Chenle and Jisung are close together and commenting everything that happens in the movie, making snarking comments while Renjun is giving them some ugly stares to try and make they shup up. It isn't working.

In that moment, it seems like the perfect night. The lights are turned off and the slightly blue gleam that comes from the huge TV makes everything seems like is coming out of a dream. You feel your shoulders relaxing under Jaemin arm, you feel your heart being filled with love and caring for all the boys in the room, even the one that you managed to break and hurt. You think about how grateful you are for that party that put them in your life, all the moments you had with them and how they make your life more exciting than you could ever hope it to be. Even with all the storm, you manage to find moments where you can be happy.

Then, in the scene that Ferris is singing to the Beatles, your eyes catches Jenos eyes and you mouth a thank you for earlier. He gives you one of his classics smiles where he eyes turns into crescents moons.

Yeah, even after everything, you are happy that even the bad things brought these idiots into your life.

The movies end with laughs and screams (those are from Chenle, of course). Jaemin stretch himself and takes his arm from your shoulders.

"Ok! Time for the gore now!" he announces.

"Finally!" Donghyuck exclaims and they both get up to search for the perfect movie.

You shake your head in disbelief and let a laugh escapes your lips.

"Who you make the second round of popcorn?" Jisung quirks.

"It's just microwave popcorn, is not that hard!" Renjun mumble.

"Yeah, but it's cold and I'm comfortable in here!" Jisung argues and you have to give that to him, it is a good argument.

"I'll do it." Mark butts in with a confident tone.

He gets up from the way too small chair and stretches his legs and torso and you have to look away when the shirts rise up to show his defined muscles. You curse him and almost think that he is doing that on purpose.

"I can help you!" Celest exclaim with way too much energy.

Oh, yeah. Mark doesn't need to do anything to get to you, because he already has a beautiful and lovely girlfriend right here.

"It's ok, babe," his voice is low and delicate when talking to her. "Stay here and get to know the boys better, promise they don't bite."

You fish your phone from the pocket of your sweater and pretend to be texting someone, so they won't know that you are listening to their conversation like a pathetic and jealous little girl.

"Ok, honey." Celeste voice is graceful and it seems like she gets happy with everything that anyone says. You almost want to be like that.

"Y/N can help me!" Mark pulls that out of nowhere and you can't help but widen your eyes and look like he lost his mind.

"Me?" your voice shake as you question him and points a finger to yourself.

Mark only nods and make a movement with his hands that leave you with no options than following him. You shoot a panicked look to Jeno before you disappear into the kitchen, but he is too busy making small talk with the French girl. Great.

"Do you know where Chenle keeps the popcorn?" your ex asks as soon as you two get to the kitchen.

"Top shelve, right there." you point the direction to him.

You sit in the center balcony, watching as Mark gets out at least six package of microwave popcorn and the same amount of bowls.

"Shit," you let it escapes you. "We should have gotten the buckets that we used earlier, so we don't make a bigger mess."

Mark looks at all the bows in front of him and sighs.

"Yeah, that seams smart." he says with a little smile. "We stupid."

"We are," you shrug. "But we can force someone else to wash the dishes with the excuse that we already did the tiring quest of turning the microwave on."

Marks lets a real laugh at that and it feels like you are hearing the sun if it could speak. His laugh is warm and welcoming and you can't help but also let a small laugh to keep him company.

"Well, I'm doing all the work here!" he points at the popcorns and the bowls.

You roll your eyes and gets off the counter.

"Here, let me put them in the microwave for you then." you sticks your hand out for him.

"Hm." he pauses for a moment. "Should we put them all in the microwave and risk burning the house or should we stay here for at least 20 minutes putting one by one?"

It is a good question.

"As much as I know that Chenle has enough money to deal with the burning the house thing, I think we shouldn't risk that."

"Yeah. They will probably be still arguing about horror movies when we get back."

"Hope your girlfriend doesn't get bored." you can't help but let the venom drip out from your tongue, but you regret it instantly.

That ultimately kills the mood and Marks hands you the first round of popcorn without looking at you. Then, the only sound in the kitchen is the microwave working it magic and the pop sound. Then there's a beeping and the first packet is ready. Mark handles you another one.

Things go like that until right before he is handing you the third packaging. You reach it for it but he drawn it back, looking at you again. He takes a deep breath and ask you the most absurd thing he could ask.

"Are you-" his voice shake and also does his head. "Are you and Jaemin a thing now?"

He finally gives you the popcorn and you almost drop it to the floor. What the hell? You and Jaemin? The one Jaemin that doesn't leave you alone because every time he sees you, he just need to ask your roommate number even through you always says that he should grow a pair of tidies and ask it himself? That Jaemin? And you? A thing? And even if you guys were, which you are not, why does that concern your ex? Why is he acting like he is afraid that you are going to confirm his question? Is that why he asked for your help? So, he could get you alone and ask you this?

You can feel your head doing turns and turns and if you were a computer you would have now a sign in front of you with big red letters saying Error!, however you aren't and you can't scape the question.

You take a breath and look at Mark right in the eyes, firm and certain.

"No." your voice is sharp like a knife. "We are not a thing. We are friends, Mark."

The microwave beeps and the third package are ready. Instantly, without breaking the eye contact, Mark handles you another one.

"The way you two are acting, it seems like you two are." he says with fire coming from his throat and you know that he has the full intention of getting in your nerves.

"Why do you care about the way I act with other people?" you question him with fury. "I can act like I want with anyone. We aren't in a relationship anymore."

The microwave beeps again. One more package ready. Two to go.

"Why is that?" he screams whispers so no one else you hear you two. "Whose fault is that?"

You stop working. You stop looking at him with blood in your eyes, you stop holding your grounds, you let it all go out. All the fury and the rage of the moments drops out of you and is soon replaced with pain and embarrassment. You never thought that Mark would say those worlds to you.

They are indeed truth but you never expected the boy that you thought that was nothing but sunshine would throw then in your face with so much bitterness. You can see that his face also drops and that his hands is shaking and that he didn't meant to say that. Well, good, but it is too late now, the words left his mouth and went straight to your heart, to break it again and again. You lost count of how many times you hurt Mark and he hurt you right back.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to say that." he says, voice all soft and his hands reaches out to you but you give a step back.

"I know." you say and your voice manage to stay firm even though you feel like you could cry at any moment.

"I'm sorry too." you offer. "I'm sorry for making you fight too much for me, I'm sorry that in the end it wasn't the lack of love but my own doubt that got us here. In this mess."

"Hey, don't say it like that." his voice is reassuring, but that isn't enough.

"It is the truth, Mark." you lamented, rising your eyes to look at him. "I'm sorry for messing us up."

Mark were already gazing you when you looked at him, his eyes has so many emotions blotted in that even you, who knew him better than anyone, couldn’t point them all. Everything you could see was a mix of sadness, disappointment and truth. The last one was the one that hurt you the most, the way he is so ready to be open to you, to listen to you, to hear you. Even after all the damage that you caused to him.

You know that he is one step from saying all the things that he wants to say, all the words that he swallowed before, all the pain and all the love. It is almost all getting out, but you can't do that. Not right now.

"Are happy, Mark?" you mutter, cutting him even before he can open his mouth. "With her?"

Mark fidget with his fingers, taking his gaze away from your face. He takes a deep breath and you can see that his hands are holding the edge of the balcony behind him so hard that his knuckles are turning white.

"I am." he replies shyly, but honestly. "I am happy with Celeste."

You simply nod your head, already knowing that this would be his answer. You knew from the way he talked to her, how his eyes shined upon her and how he acted like everything she said was like the best thing he ever knows. You knew that it wasn’t love, but you also know that it can be. Mark looks at her in the way that he used to look at you, in the beginning, with flushed cheeks and half smiles.

You knew all of this already. However, that doesn’t stop your cheeks from flushing hot and bright. You need to take a breath to calm yourself down. You count to five. One, two, three, four and five. Then, you smile at him, a little and tight one, the kind that only lift slightly the corners of your mouth.

"Then that's all that matters.” you say truthfully. “I'm happy that you are happy with her."

"But...” he trails off.

You shake your head, signaling for him to shut up. Despite the smile on your face, you can feel the tears forming in your eyes, ready to come out at any second. You turn on your heels, away from him and focus on the task of putting all the popcorns into the bowls.

You can't bear to talk about it right now, not in this kitchen, not when your friends are waiting for you both. Not when everyone expects you to act like you a bubble of happiness. You can't open this door now, not when you are so vulnerable for everyone to see.

"Not now." your tone comes out soft, barely above a whisper.

Mark looks exasperate like this is the only time he has to says those things, like all his courage will be drained out of him and he will never be able to expose those feelings again. You know better, you know that even though you are not together, you and Mark navigate around each other like two planets, united from a force bigger than you both. There will be a time for him to discuss those things with you, sooner.

Mark seems to get that or to even reconsider. Even without looking at him, you know what is going on his mind. He is probably thinking about Celeste, in the living room, waiting for her boyfriend to return. He is thinking about you and what is best for you. For those reasons, he drops it.

You two don't talk again in the kitchen. You two splits the bowls and take them to the living room. Like Mark said, the guys are still discussing about which horror movie to watch.

You are sure that it was a good horror movie, because Donghyuck was the one that picked it and he is a master in finding the most horrifying movies on Netflix. However, you can't even remember how the horror movie ended. You can't even point a part where the jump scares got you. You can't even think about a single part of the movie where your mind wasn't focused on Mark. Your mind kept drifting to the conversation you two didn’t had on the kitchen.

You could hear Donghyuck teasing Renjun because the boy is the one that gets most affected with these kinds of movies. You can hear Jisung and Chenle laughing, Jaemin planning to scare Renjun in the middle of the night with Mark. Everyone is having a good time, even Celeste, the poor thing that is just as scared as Renjun, but it feels like you aren't actually there. Like you are in another plane of existence where the only thing that happens is your conversation with Mark in the kitchen, once and once again playing it all in your head.

"Y/N?" Jeno's voice brings you back to the present and everyone's attention turns to you. "Are you ok?"

You are caught in the with your hands dirty and you can't think of another excuse.

"I'm not." you stutter to everyone in the room. "I'm fucking scared. Who choose that movie? I hate it."

The tension is gone as fast as it was formed and everyone in the room turns into laughs. Everyone but him. Mark knows you are lying but he doesn't say anything about it.

"It's okay!" Donghyuck says with a happy tone. "We'll all sleep together here, if some demon tries anything, we can outnumber it and kick it ass!"

"Oh, so for Y/N you give a lovely encouraging speech but for me!" Renjun rebuked, throwing a pillow in Donghyuck directions. "You guys are planning to scare me in the middle of the night and I know with. The favoritism is showing!"

"Of course, it is!" Donghyuck reply in a childish voice. "Everyone know that the babies of the group are Y/N and Jisung, so yeah, the favoritism is real."

You shoot Jisung an empathic look and he just shily smiles at you, shrugging his shoulder as he is trying to say that there is no escape from being the baby of the group. You feel a little better after that and let the conversation flow with a little smile on your face.

You offer to help Jeno and Chenle with the mattresses that they are bringing to the living room while the others take the couches out of the way. You also get pillows and blankets for everyone.

And then when everything is settled and everyone is laying down, as the classic tired college student that everyone in the room is, the conversation dies rapidly and everyone falls asleep.

Everyone except two people.

You can't seem to find a single drop of sleep in your body, your mind is working way too fast to open space for sleep. You burry your face into your pillow and wait for it to go away. You try to think of the movie, your next week exam, the way you feel like you are falling behind in one of your classes. You try to busy your mind with other problems that you have right now, but that just isn't enough to take your mind away from the elephant in the room.

You lift your head from the plush pillow and look to a specific part of the living room. Your eyes lay first on Celeste, who is sleeping soundly in her mattress, her face is looking peaceful. Then your eyes fall into the mattress that is right next to her, it is empty.

It feels like an invitation. Like a come and talk to me, type of thing. Like an open door to get to a final conclusion. You take your eyes away from the empty mattress and ponders the pros and cons of getting up to find Mark.

You know where he is and you also know that he has something to say to you. However, you will be able to hear it? Will you be able to hear it and then pretend like nothing happened? Is it really the best option?

You stay in those questions for at least thirty minutes, repeating then in your mind. Finally, you huff in frustration and get up. It's now or never.

When you get to the roof, Mark is sitting there, his face illuminated by the stars and the moon, the things that he is looking up to with so much admiration in his gaze. It feels almost exactly like a year and a half ago. Except that today, nobody is drunk, there is no sound coming from the house and his soft smile doesn't reach his eyes when he looks at you.

"Hi." he greets you quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

"Hi." you greet him back, quieter and softer.

You sit close to him and you blush when you feel his arms brushing against yours, Mark seems to not notice this, or if he does, he doesn't comment on it. The weather isn't warm like the first time, winter is already in the corner so it is cold and you can't help but shiver at the wind. Mark doesn't put his arms around you like he would when you two were together.

"Couldn't sleep." you confess to him, even though he already knows. "Kept thinking about what you wanted to say."

Mark Lee is a beautiful man. You think for the million time when you look at him. The black suites him, he has a more mature face, sharpen jawline, deeper eyes and a more grown up vibe. However, you know him this time. You know how he likes his breakfast, you know how he drinks his coffee, you know how it is to make sex with him, you know his fears and his desires. You know how he isn't sure that he is in the right path, the right major, you know that he likes the stars and he likes to dance. You know that he writes rap songs about everything that he feels and keep them away from the world, only showing them to you.

(You wonder if he already showed them to Celeste, but you don’t pursue this thought, as it can do more damage than good.)

You definitely know that he is a happy idiot but you also know that he is more than that. So much more. He is the most hardworking person that you even met, he is easily flustered, he is romantic to the bone, he is smart and kind and everything that you could hope to find in someone. You know that he is your biggest regret.

Like he can read your mind, Mark finally turns his gaze to you and asks the big question.

"Do you remember when you told me that you love me for the first time?" his voice is so quiet that you almost loose it in the wind.

"I do." you simply nod your head.

You were both sitting in the couch of your house. Your roommate was away for the weekend, gone to visit her parents. Mark took you to the supermarket and helped you buy everything that you needed, he insisted that you got into the shopping cart and he carried you around, running, laughing and screaming. You felt like you were back in your fifteens and you were actually living those romance movies that you liked to watch nonstop.

Then he took you home, never letting go of your hand. You made dinner and then sat down in front of the TV to watch a show that you both enjoyed at the time. You remember that you two weren't going out for too long, only a month and a few days, but you felt it. Deep into your bones. Into your hearth and into your soul. You could feel it flow into you and get bigger and bigger and you couldn't hold it to yourself anymore.

"I love you!" you declared between one episode and another.

Mark almost dropped the plate that he was holding and looked at you with widen eyes and parted lips. You said, ok this is it, you said it too soon, too bold and he doesn't know how to act. You thought that you had screwed everything.

However, Mark soon put his plate away, coming closer to you to hold your face in his hands. His finger caressed your cheeks and you inclined into that feeling, closing your eyes to pay attention in his breathing fanning your face, the way his fingers were shaking and how warm his hands were.

"I love you too!" he gushed between laughs. "So much!"

Then his lips met your and you could feel his soft smile into your skin. He pressed his lips into yours so softly that you felt like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"We were happy, weren't we?" you ask him with tears in your eyes.

"We were." he reply with honesty dripping from his velvety tone.

Mark can't take the way you are looking at him anymore so he looks back to the sky and you copy him. You don't try to stop your tears this time, letting they flow through you, all the pain getting exposed to him, leaking trough you and dripping in the wooden of the roof, you could feel that you are coming apart at which word that leaves his mouth. Mark still doesn't hug you or makes any movement to console you.

"Do you remember the last time we broke up?" he quirks, his voice coming out hoarsen.

"I tried to forgot. Turns out, I can't." you reply with an ironic laugh.

You were crying and so was he, tears expressing your brokenness, your force running out of you. Mark was sitting on your bed begging for you to stop.

"Why you don't trust me?" he asked between sobs, holding so tightly into your blanket that you suspected that it could rip apart at any moment.

"It's not that, Mark. You know that." you hiccups, forcing his hands away, away from you, away from your blanket. "I'm not enough, not for you. You need someone who is happier, who will love you better. Someone that believes in themselves and is confident enough to accept your love."

"But I don't want anyone else!" he snapped, tears running freely in his face. "I love you and you alone, Y/N. Why can't you accept that?"

"How? How can you love me, Mark?" you yelled right back. "Look at me, I'm too hard to please, I'm not too good looking, my personality sucks and..."

Mark got closer to you and hold your face into his hands, whipping out your tears and kissing your forehead innumerous time. You wanted to hold him into your arms until you would change your mind, but you didn’t. Your hands stayed heavy by your side, not giving him any form comfort.

"We talked about this, babe." he whispered and his mouth brushed against your skin. "Remember in the roof when I said that you are the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen? It was and it is the truth. I love you. All the things about you. Your personality and your face."

You shake your head. You can't believe in him, not after everything that happened to you. All the things that you never had the courage to tell him or anyone else. All the things that your ex made you believe and now, years after that relationship ended, you can't get these things out of your head.

"This is my decision, Mark." you got away from his hold and looked right into his eyes. "I'm not going to bring you down. I'm not going to let you get stuck with me and my mess. I don't want to."

You could see that he was tired from going through this every time. You could see that he wanted to try, just one more time, but he didn't have the energy to do so. Not after everything that you made him go thought, all the pain you caused to him and all the hope you have him to just broke up with him again.

Mark got up, looking at you with tears in his eyes, for the last time. Giving you one more chance to not let him go.

"This is the last time." he said to you. "If I get out of this door, I'm not going back."

You wanted to scream it, let it flow through you, tell him how much you love him and how much you wanted to be with him, but you didn’t know how. You didn’t know how to be with him without hurting him over and over again. In the end you didn't say anything.

Mark walked out of your room, leaving a trail of sadness and regret behind you, leaving you to sob quietly in your room by yourself. Only a month later he found Celeste.

All the memories are too much for you and you can't help but sob quietly into your arm, not wanting to make too much sound and wake up everyone else.

"I'm sorry," he offers for you. "I'm sorry for how I said it. I was angry and tired and sad."

"I know. I was too. I'm sorry too." you laments.

Mark nods and accept your apology. His eyes then turn away from the sky and he looks at you with tears in his eyes, a broken expression painted in his face and you almost jump to hug him and tell him that it is ok. You two will be ok.

"Why you didn't believe in me?" he asks you between softly sobs. "Was it something that I done?"

That broke you more than everything did before. All this time Mark was thinking that he was the one that did something wrong. All the time he has been blaming himself.

"You didn't!" you quickly answer, your voice raising a bit. "It was nobodys fault but his.”

You finally open up about it, about the way you’ve been hurt, about the thing that you feel weakest, about the past that you can't let go. “I had a shit ex. Abusive. He would tell me horrible things, that nobody would love me, that I was ugly and not enough for him. That I needed to change, that I needed to try hard to be who he wanted me to be. And I tried. I tried so hard, you know? But in the end, he left me for a friend of mine."

You take your eyes away from Mark, feeling weak in front of him. You can't handle the way he is looking at you, pity mixing with anger and sadness.

"Before he left me, he came to my parents' house and screamed at the top of his lungs that I was nothing, that I was just a game that he got tired of playing and I was hard maintenance and that everyone that falls for me is doomed." you sobs more and more as the words leave you for the first time in forever. "My mom had to call the cops to throw him out. Never saw him again. Moved to Korea just to make sure of that."

At that, at your words, Mark finally hugs you with all his strength. You buried your head in his neck and cry in there, feeling his warmth around yourself, feeling his smell, feeling his arms. You cry there in his arms, the place that you feel most secure in the world.

Mark put his head in your hair and takes a deep breath. You missed being this close to him so much and he missed you right back.

"This isn't true." he whispers into your head. "I'm sorry that it happened to you and I wish I could make you see that It isn't true. None of these things are and this guy is a fucking douchebag, ok?"

You nod against his neck and you can feel his hands moving gently up and down in your back.

"I wish I could make you see how beautiful you are. How amazing you are." he still whispering softly just for you and the stars. "How much you helped me how much I grow up with you. How much you taught me and how grateful I'm for you. I wish I could make you see how I still love you."

Your breath gets stuck in your throat and you can't do anything except hold him tighter and closer to you, crying even harder than before.

"I wish I could make you see those things. But I can't. I can't, Y/N. You need to do it yourself. You know?” he quirks, lips moving against your hair. “And it isn't weakness to seek for help. Professional help. It is strength. And you are the strongest person that I know. Please, help yourself because you are the only one that can do it."

He goes a little back even though you are holding so tight into his shit that it seems like you will never let it go. Mark holds your face into his hands and brings you towards his face, making you look right into his shinning eyes.

"But I will be there for you." he says, looking at you with a gleam in his brown eyes. "And all the boys are too. We love you and we will be right here whenever you need us, you know that right?"

You look at his eyes, searching for anything to feed your doubts but you can't find anything. Right in front of you is Mark, holding your face between his big hands, saying words of love and hope. Right in front of you is the boy that showed you love, that made you believe in it again, the boy who told you all his secrets, the boy who trusted you with his life. The boy who fought for you more times than anyone ever did. The boy that loves you and would never do anything with the intentions of hurting you.

"You are the most beautiful of things." you whispered to him, turning your head slightly to kiss his left hand. "And I love you. I still love you. You will always be part of me. Thank you for everything, Mark Lee. Thank you for being yourself."

He laughs a little between his cries and brings your forehead so he can touch it with his. You can feel his breath against you skin. You can feel his fingers shaking and you can feel all the love that he is sending to you right now. You close your eyes and leans into that feeling. It is a great thing, to just be here with him, sharing the love that you both have for each other, telling things that you both wanted to tell since that day in your house.

When you came to the roof you carried a thought with you. You said that everything began in this roof so it is only fair that it ends at it too.

However, this is and ending. This is the beginning of something new.

You and Mark get down from the roof only after the sun has risen. You two stayed all night talking about your relationship, all the laughs, all the cries, all the goods and all the bad. Then, together, you came down.

Everyone in the living room was surprisingly awake, they seemed worried but that changed as soon as they saw you both coming from the corridor that leads to the roof. Everyone stayed still, giving each other weird looks.

You looked at Celeste and she seemed so small and lost, looking between you and Mark with betrayal and hurt in her eyes. Mark must have seen the same thing because he turns to you with a questioning look.

"Go." you give him a kiss in the forehead and let go of his hand.

You let him go to her, you see as he takes her hand and leads her for the backyard. You see him walking away with her. And it hurts. It really does, but less than before, because this time when he gets back you will be there at his side. As his best friend.

"Is everything okay?" Jeno is the first to get to you and he ask this with the softest voice he can find. "Are you two back together?"

"Nope." you reply with a click of your tongue.

"Then why are you smiling that much?"

"Because I know everything will be alright." you simply says. "And also, now you have a rival as my best friend."

At that Jeno fakes a groan that soon turns into a smile that you are gladly to join him into. He leads you into the living room and you hug all your boys.

You are finally feeling happy without needing to deal with a heavy burden into your shoulder.

Everything will be alright, as you said.

Six months after that and everything is indeed alright. You found a good therapist that was helping you like no one else could, but of course that was only possible because you are being open for the help.

You wrote a poem about Mark for your creative writing class. Jeno helped you with that. The poem was about a beautiful relationship that transformed into an even prettier friendship. You wrote about how you can love the same person in innumerous ways.

You gave a copy to Mark and he cried like a baby. You two seemed to cry a lot after that day, you do cry but you also talk, about the future, the past, your classes, your fears and your dreams. You walk around campus with him by your side, laughing about some inside joke or teasing each other about something cringe that you used to do when you were a couple.

(Deep down you still missed those things, but those are the kind of secret that you don't need to share with Mark.)

You even began a truly friendship with Celeste. However, before it could really grow, they broke up. Turns out that she wasn't really the one. She had to go back to big old Paris two weeks after that night and her and Mark tried the long-distance thing for almost a month before it couldn't work out anymore.

"Hey, how are you and Celeste?" Renjun asked one day when you were all sitting in a big table at the coffee shop near the campus.

Mark took a deep breath and looked at you.

"It wasn't working out." he simply answered.

You looked at him too.

"I'm so sorry Mark, I know how you liked her." you said with empathy.

You two never talked about that anymore. You didn't make an effort to get back together and neither did him.

Then, one day, you were sick of your roommate. Not that you don't love her, you do, but the finals are just around the corner and you can't help but groan every time she invites her study group to your apartment to discuss something about physics, calculus, or whatever else they are discussing that day.

You know that Renjun's dorm is your safe space, but he has a test in two days so you don't want to bug him. Chenle and Jisung are away, visiting Chenle's parents for some reason that you didn't quite understand. Jaemin is, well, Jaemin which means that he will only text you back four hours later.

So, you text Mark and Jeno and hopes for the best, hopes that one them you will able to help you.

Jeno replies quickly saying that he is doing some paper work for his teacher as part of his internship. You groan, damn Jeno for being such a good student. Them, five minutes later, Mark also text you a whatsupp, doing nothing want to come here?, and thats how you end up in his dorm in a thurdays afternoon, when you should probably be studying for you own finals, just like Mark also should be. Neither of you mentions that.

"Hey," he casually greets you when you get there. "not to be rude Y/N, but why are you here?"

"Rude!" you jokingly point out. "My roommate was talking about physics again and I needed to get out."

Mark make a face and you chuckles at it. You two hates physics.

"My roommate is out for a basketball game," he says. "do you want to go and watch it?"

Mark's roommate is a guy named Jaehyun, he is a year or two older than you both, and is a little celebrity in your college, due to his good looking and his heart of gold. You think he is a little overlooked, because Mark is clearly prettier and smarter (your own roommate says that you are biased, so your opinion doesn't count.)

"Uh, I don't really want to..." you trail off, biting your lips and looking at the two comfortable beds. "But I will go if you want!"

Mark ponders for a moment, frowning his brows. "I don't think I want to." he drawls, sleepy. You let a soft and caring smile escapes you and he do the same.

"Take a nap and then grab some food?" you offer to him.

"That sound too good, let's do it." he grins at you before jumping on his bed.

You lay down on Jaehyun's bed, because he isn't here to see it, so he will never find out and will never get angry. Mark gives you a quizzing look, however he doesn't voice out what made him so confused.

You two lay down in a comfortable silence for a good half an hour and when you are almost there, almost drifting away to the land of sleep, Mark brings you back.

"Sometimes I still miss her," his voice is quieter, softer than a whisper, you barely catch it. "But sometimes, I'm happy she isn't here anymore."

You turn into the bed and face him. He is looking straight to the celling and you don't blame him, he probably been wanting to say these words out loud for so long, but he didn't have the courage to. Now, when is just the two of you, he feels more comfortable to do so, because he trusts you like he trust no one else.

You let his words soak in, not making a sound, waiting for him to put everything that is troubling him out into the privacy of his small dorm room.

"I wonder what that means, you know?" he quirks, but it is more to himself than to you. "Does it mean that I didn't like her that much?"

He takes a deep breath in, holding the air. Mark then turns his gaze to meet yours, his eyes are carrying pain and doubts, a feeling that you know well. A feeling that you've been trying so hard to get rid of.

"Did you felt like you liked her when you were with her?" you ask, softly with velvety voice.

Talking about Celeste doesn't hurt you like it did before. You don't if it is because now you don't have the heavy burden of feeling that it is your fault, that you were the one who let him go and now he is with someone that isn't you, or if it is just because you've been closer to Mark these past months in a way that you never been, in a way that you can understand and respect his feelings even more than before.

You don't know if it is the lack of jealousy because they aren't together anymore or if it because you are actually improving with the help of your therapist. You hope that it is the last one.

"I felt like I could love her," he confesses, only to you. "If he had more time I would definitely fall in love."

You hum, nodding your head. "Then there you go, Mark. You liked her, see."

That doesn't seem to settle down his worries, his brown is still frowned and he is doing that little face that he does every time that he thinks too hard about something.

"But, then, why do I feel happy that she is gone?" he asks you like you have the answer to all his problems.

You don't have that. However, you do your best to help him.

"Do you still like her?" you tilt your head to the side, chewing on your bottom lip.

"Nah, don't like her like that anymore." he replies with his voice dripping with certain.

"Ok, then you are happy because you don't like her anymore and you aren't being forced to maintain a relationship with a person that you don't like."

You shrug your shoulders like is the obvious thing, even thought you had to think really hard and really quick to give him an answer. Mark made a sound that seems like a sound of agreement.

But then he questions you again.

"Then why do I miss her?"

You sigh, a little tired. You didn't expected to have a heart to heart conversation today, but you don't want to leave him hanging. You roll again into the bed, now facing the celling, because the words that are about to leave your mouth are too coward to go out while you are facing him.

"I miss you sometimes," your voice is barely above a whisper. "Like, you are always around and I love your friendship, but..." you trail off.

Mark doesn't say a thing.

"I miss how we were, I guess." you continue, voice now shaking a little bit. "I miss our relationship because it was part of my story, I miss our relationship because I was happy with you and for a bunch of other reasons. I think it is the same for you and Celeste, you miss her because once you liked her and once you were happy with her. Is just that, don't think too hard about it."

Mark doesn't reply right away and, truthfully, you didn't expect him to. You just entered a dangerous zone with your worlds, a past that you two talk about, but not without feeling this sense of sadness. Not without being taken with the thoughts of what if. Not without the regret.

"I miss you too." he admits after a while. "Once you loved me?"

"I always love you." you says, honestly and with a firm voice. "I love you right now."

Then you roll your head to the side and your gaze meets his. He is looking at you with his mouth apart and deer looking eyes, like he didn't expected that you’d blunt that out that easily. Well, it is the truth and now, after all your improvements, you don't see why you should hide the truth. Even if he doesn't feel the same anymore.

"I love you rigt now too." he confess, lips curving into a satisfied smile.

You don't take your eyes away from him. You simply look down at his lips, they are a beautiful pink color, begging to be kissed. You blush hard at that thought and let an awkwardly giggle leave your mouth.

"Ok."

"Wanna grab food now?" Mark offers, voice rising to a happier mood, like nothing happened.

"It is a date." those words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

"Ok. A date it is."

You didn't knew if he really meant that.

Now, three months later you are again at a party that Jaemin organized. There is a loud song playing and you aren't hiding in the kitchen this time.

You are screaming the lyrics to the song with Jeno while you jump up and down with Renjun. Mark has an arm throwed around your shoulder and is happily sipping some stupid drink that Jaemin made.

You play beer pong with Jaemin and is almost winning when he disappears into the crowd with your roommate. You laugh so much at that Jeno has to catch you so you don't fall.

You scream and shouts Chenle’s name as he is participating in a contest of who can drown more shots in a minute. He owns and the other guy throws up into the carpet.

"I almost feel bad about not telling him that Chenle is like a pro at shots." you chuckle, turning to Mark and elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

"Nah," he answers. "That guy is a pain in the ass and he deserves to lose to Chenle."

You laugh even more and agree with him.

You dance, drink and party like you do best with your boys by your side. You feel really happy to have them. You really do, but they also can be too much.

"I'm feeling a little tired." you complains to the nearest person you can find.

It turns out to be Mark.

"Do you want to relax in the second floor?" he asks you. "We can play some video games there. And I can beat your ass."

"Oh, Lee, you are on for it."

He does beat your ass. Almost ten times at Mario Kart before you get too angry to play the game and gets up to go to the balcony.

The second floor has a big balcony with a pretty view of the city. From there you can see the people walking the street, laughing and having a good time. Cars moving. Restaurants and bars playing some music. You like that, you like to watch the people.

"I wonder why I don't come here too often." you whispers to Mark who is now by your side.

"Because the roof is better to see the stars." he says like is the most obvious thing.

You laugh at him and slightly push him back but he doesn't even move. Mark gives you a dorky smile and you roll your eyes.

"I like people watching and you like to do some star gazing." you state it. "Here we can do both."

Mark looks up at the starts and the sky is really beautiful tonight. Then he looks down at the people and they all seems interesting, all in their own worlds, all minding their own business. Just like stars in their own galaxies.

"Like Hannah Montana said," he doesn't even finish the sentence and you are already laughing. "The best of the both worlds."

You throw your head back with a laugh and he settles for a smile, satisfied that he was able to make you laughs.

You get closer to him until your bodies are touching. Mark has his head up to look at the stars and your gaze is fixed in a cute restaurant that seems to be a hit between couples as more and more of them walk out of the establishment with silly smiles and red cheeks. You smile found of them.

"Taeyong asked me out." you drop it out of nowhere and the boy next to you almost chokes. "You know, the art major from the fourth year. He is pretty."

"I know who Taeyong is!" Mark answer with a weird voice. "What did you say?"

"Nothing yet." you shrug your shoulders. You know the game you are playing.

You turn your body towards Mark and looks at him with an innocently expression, battling your eyelashes at him. He looks at your eyes and then down to your lips.

"What should I answer?"

"No."

Mark says way too fast but that doesn't seem to embarrass him. You smile at that and he smiles back at you. It feels right.

The lights of the second floor are turned off and the only lighting is the one coming from the street below or the moon above. Mark faces looks angelical from this lighting and you can't help but take a step closer to him. He does the same.

You two are so close that you can feel the heat radiating from him and he can feel how fast your heart is beating. You look at his face and you think about how you two grow up in the past six months. How your connection got stronger than ever, how you spend together all the time you guys got to spare and how you have been more open to him than you have ever been to anyone before. You think about all the new things that you learned about yourself and about him. You think about all the parties and all the movie nights. You think about all the lunches he brought to you and all the coffee you gave to him.

You think about your friendship and you think about how you never stopped loving him. That love only got bigger and bigger.

You look at Mark's face and you catch his eyes falling to your lips. You think about everything you two went through. You see him wetting his lips with his tongue and you think about all the times that you could swear that you guys would kiss but that kiss never came. You think about how amazing Mark Lee is and how you are so sure that he is the one.

You think that he would never hurt you and you would do your best to never hurt him again. You guys hurt each other in the past, that's true, but now. Now you have nothing but love to offer him.

So, you can't help but ask.

"Mark Lee," you say as you get closer and blushes your lips against his. "Can I kiss you?"

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fantastic-fantasy-fanfics · 4 years

Text

TIMELESS

This fic is for @katie-my-lady (imma send this to her since tumblr is trash and won’t let me tag her)

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS! Here’s your special WonderTrev Secret Santa fic! I hope you enjoy feel free to ask if you want me to DM it to you or invite you to the GoogleDoc! Also i really love your blog, I’m so glad I was matched with you and I hope we can become friends!

Steve Trevor x Diana Prince

Word count: 1687

Summary: Steve and Diana show their love in many various ways, some more unconventional than others.

Warnings: This jumps around a timeline and is a little of an AU? Like, Steve and Diana live happily ever after and nothing bad ever happened to them.

1983

Diana thanked the vendor as she grabbed her sundae and Steve’s milkshake from the counter and walking to their little table by the window. “Strawberry, with two Oreos on top, just how you like it,” she grinned, setting the glass cup in front of him.

Steve gave her a quizzical look. “I’ve never had an Oreo before,” he said, ripping the paper wrapping off his thick straw, “how could that be ‘just how I like it’?”.

A little smirk of pride crept onto Diana’s lips. “Try it…” she said, nodding her head at the little cookie. She knew what she was doing.

He tilted his head, chuckling. This was ridiculous, but he trusted her. He took the cookie in between his fingers, licking the bit of whipped cream off of it before shoving the whole thing in his mouth. His eyes went wide as the sweet flavor touched his taste buds. “Holy shit…” he mumbled through his full mouth.

“I know, right?” she giggled, watching his reaction as she took a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

“You’re always right,” he nodded, taking the other cookie, also eating it on one bite.

“Do you want me to get you more?” she laughed, wiping some stray crumbs off his lip with the pad of her thumb.

“Yes please,” he nodded, mouth still food.

1918

Steve smiled as Diana rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping his arm around her broad shoulders. “What’s that one?” he asked, pointing to a particularly bright spot in the night sky.

“That one is actually Mars, named after the Roman god of war,” Diana answered, staring at the little dot, “you can tell it’s not a star because it doesn’t sparkle, like the other ones,”. She loved little moments like this; cool summer nights, exploring the skies with the love of her life.

“I know who Mars is… he almost killed me,” Steve chuckled, still in disbelief that he survived that whole debacle. He lifted his gaze back up to the stars, amazed as he watched a comet fly across the atmosphere. “Diana! Look! Make a wish!” he beamed, squeezing her closer in excitement.

She watched it disappear into the darkness very confused. “What?” she asked, “wish? Why? It’s a star…”.

His face fell into an expression of slight disappointment. “It’s a shooting star, you don’t see those every day…” he explained, pointing up to where the star blazed its path, “when you see one, you close your eyes and make a wish,”.

“Oh,” she hummed, liking the whimsical concept. Diana looked back up at the sky, closing her eyes gently. her eyelashes grazed her cheeks as she made her wish. She opened them again, the moonlight highlighting her brown eyes. “It didn’t work,” she frowned, looking at Steve for an explanation.

“Well what did you wish for?” he asked, giggling as he kissed her nose playfully.

A smile broke out on Diana’s illuminated face. She settled back into her comfortable position, tucked into his side. “Nevermind, it worked,” she sighed.

“What? What did you wish?” Steve asked, a bit confused, but mostly curious.

“You kissed me,”

1985

Things were very different in this time. Fashion, politics… but the one thing Steve was glad hadn’t changed was art. Sure, style and medium had changed, but he was glad art was still important to people. Steve sat on the bench in front of the Mona Lisa, simply staring at it. Even though it was almost closing time, there were still a handful of people in the museum adoring the piece and taking pictures. But, to be honest, Steve didn’t even notice they were there.

Almost every day Steve would come into the Louvre an hour before closing. At first it was so he could walk home with Diana after she was done with work, but after a few weeks, he’d come early just to look at the art. He’d wander around for hours, lost in the peace and quiet of his thoughts. He loved all the art, but his favorite, of course, was Lisa. It was such a surreal feeling to think he was in the physical presence of a piece of history.

“Visiting your friend again?” Diana asked, startling Steve out of his trance.

“Oh! Hi… uh… y-yeah…” he nodded, giving her an adorable half-smile as his cheeks turned red. He grabbed his wallet off the bench and shoved it in his pocket as he stood up, “I swear I’ve seen her twenty million times, but I never get tired of her,” he said, turning back to get one last look at the canvas.

“I should let you see my office sometime,” Diana hummed, holding his hand as she took in the mastery of the painting, “you’d be amazed by everything I have on display in there,”.

Steve gave a little chuckle, slipping on his jacket. “I’m afraid I’d get distracted by one masterpiece, as I usually do,” he said, looking into her eyes with that special look.

Diana caught his drift, shaking her head at the dumb pick-up line. “You’re awful,” she chuckled, walking towards the exit.

“Who said I was referring to you?” Steve said sarcastically, unable to keep from laughing.

With a dramatic eye roll, Diana playfully shoved his shoulder, “let’s go home, you dork,”.

1919

The sun beamed down on the shores of Themyscira, the crystal blue waves crashing gently on the shore. Steve laid on the sand, wearing nothing but a cotton tunic, letting the warmth soak into his skin. The cool water touched his toes, making him stir from his catnap.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Diana grinned, kissing his head as she returned with a tray of fruit and wine.

“I never want to move,” he grinned, flipping onto his back, “I just want to stay here with you forever,”.

She grinned, kissing his head and brushing the stray hairs out of his face. “Well you’ll have to come inside eventually, even if I have to carry you inside,” she said, sitting beside him, shifting her white dress around her legs.

“Ooh! Will you?” he grinned, sitting up. Steve liked to think of himself as very masculine, but his one weakness was being carried by and piggyback rides from Diana.

Diana laughed as he kissed her knuckles, making her blush a little bit. “Yes, I can do that,” she promised, “as long as you actually go to bed tonight! You’re not keeping me up ‘til sunrise again,”.

“Oh, like you didn’t like it,” he winked, seductively placing a hand on her strong thigh, leaning closer to kiss her lips.

“Oh don’t start again, I need sleep!” she giggled, playfully pushing him away, “I’m part of the royal family, I have a lot of responsibilities, responsibilities that require SLEEP,”.

He rolled his eyes sarcastically, kissing her cheek before grabbing a fresh peach. “Sure, sure,” nodded, smiling and lying back down on the sand, “but after you’re done with your ‘responsibilities’, you can come to me for… ‘stress relief’,”.

Diana just flicked a grape at his head, making him laugh.

1980

“Say ‘cheese!’” Steve grinned, focusing the camera on Diana as she stood in front of the Eiffel tower. She gave a professional smile, sitting up straight. “Aw, c’mon Diana, give me a big smile!” he teased, adjusting the film to get ready to take another.

“I don’t have to listen to you,” she joked, grinning as she tried to smile bigger, the wind blowing her hair into her face, the locks getting stuck in her lipstick.

Steve thought for a moment, getting an idea. “Hey Diana!” he called.

“Hm?” she answered, pulling her hair back, confused about what he was doing.

“Are you France? Because Eiffel for you!” he grinned, hoping that’d make her laugh.

She just rolled her eyes. “That was terrible,” she giggled, hissing through her teeth like a silly snake.

“Are you a thief? Because you’ve stolen my heart!” he called, his smile getting wider as his brain kept coming up with terrible puns.

“Steve,” she called, not sure if she could handle such bad humor, “honey, I love you, but you’re not that funny,”.

“One more, one more! I know I can make you laugh!” he called, getting ready to snap a picture of her reaction. This had to be a good one. “Are you a beaver? Because DAAAAAMN!” he said, holding his breath as he waited for her to react.

Diana stood there, her lips set in a straight line. Steve had thought he had failed until he heard her chortle. She showed off her pretty smile, laughing out loud at the horrendous pick-up line.

Steve quickly snapped a picture before going up to her. “Am I funny now?” he asked, pecking her lips.

“No, but that was so bad I had to laugh,” she sniffed, catching her breath.

1921

It was quiet. It was dark. All you could hear was the calming sounds of rain and thunder as the moonlit up the small London apartment. Steve laid on his stomach beside Diana, the light coming through the window highlighting his face.

Diana was sleeping beside him, a hand laid on his bare back as she shifted closer. Neither of them was awake, but they felt each other’s presence; they were drawn to it. They could each sense their warmth and hear their soft breathing.

They could feel when the other was having a nightmare and hold them closer, they could feet when the other was cold and cuddle up to them, it was like their brain waves were connected.

Steve shuffled closer to his wife, resting his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. That always soothed him, it was like music, a song of her life.

Diana shifted, wrapping her arms around him, kissing his head in her sleep before settling back into slumber.

Each of their souls reached out to one another, intertwining in an ethereal “I love you,”. Truly, they were made for each other, crafted by the gods to fit each other perfectly. Little did they know, their love was eternal, written in the stars

#wondertrevsecretsanta #wondertrev #wonder woman #steve trevor #diana prince #diana x steve #diana prince x steve trevor #ww84 #dc #dc comics

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cancerousjojian · 5 years

Text

cookie dough cupid | steve harrington

summary: robin just like, really wants her two best friends who don’t really know each other to fall hopelessly in love with one another. so far, it’s working.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

a/n: guess who’s back on her steve harrington bullshit! this bitch! i’ve tried to write this exact fic so many times and none of them felt write, but i’m so in love with steve i needed to write for him. also, this might become a series if enough people like it.

Steve finds comfort in monotony. He likes knowing what to expect.

So when Robin shows up to Scoops Ahoy one day blabbing on about you, her best friend who would totally be great for you, Steve, it’s safe to say he freaks out a little bit. She says your name and he freezes. He remembers you from high school. You were pretty, smart, and far out of his league. You never even looked twice at him, but he thinks maybe it was because of the the was when he was in high school. Or maybe you did, and he just never noticed because he was too busy sucking face with your lab partner, Nancy Wheeler.

Whatever. You didn’t like him then, and you wouldn’t like him now.

But Robin is not giving up. “Please, Steve! You’d really like her.” She says. She’s stocking the cookie dough as Steve sits on the counter, mindlessly toying with a broken ice-cream scoop.

He sighs at his over-enthusiastic friend. “It’s not a question of whether I’d like her, it’s a question of whether she can stand me enough to be in my presence for more than ten minutes.”

Robin’s heart aches at that, setting the beat-up clipboard down to have a heart-to-heart in the middle of the Scoops Ahoy stock room. “Is it because of the way you used to be, emphasis on used?” She tries to speak as evenly as possible. The subject of his past-self made Steve cringe, he hated talking about it.

He doesn’t bother answering. But his silence is confirmation enough.

Robin hops up onto the counter next to him. “I’ve told her about you, you know. I told her you’ve changed.”

Still no response. Everyone tells him he should be proud of the person he is today, and how he’s long abandoned that Steve. And he was, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still feel awful about it. And it’s not like he’s ever done anything particularly awful to you, he was too scared to even talk to you most of the time.

“She’s… intimidating,” He speaks finally, staring at the blue and white tiled floor. “If I ever meet her I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

Robin’s face grows into a mischievous grin. “Well, you can see for yourself that she’s a really cool and laid-back person when she comes to pick me up tonight.”

His eyes widen, heart rate picking up. As if on cue, Erica Sinclair dings the bell in the front of the store for her daily sample taste test. In a single motion, Robin is hopping off the counter and making her way over. “You’ll like her, Harrington!”

I already do, he wants to say, but the words that come out of his mouth are, “Damn you, Buckley!”

And so, Steve spends the rest of his shift on edge. He’s simultaneously dreading the moment the clock strikes 8 and oddly looking forward to it. To tell the truth, he hasn’t dated in a while. He feels silly for even prospecting that the two of you might become something more than friends, you haven’t even met him yet. His wandering thoughts only serve to make the time pass even faster.

So when the burst through the entrance at 7:50 and flash him a polite smile, he almost passes out.

It takes a moment for you to read his nametag and realize it’s the Steve Harrington. The guy Robin had been talking up all week about how great you two would get along and how she doesn't like men but if she did, she would be all over Steve.

Sure, you told her, you’ll meet him if it would make her happy.

You just didn’t realize that it was Steve Harrington, the assclown you’d known in high school.

You feel like you might vomit all over the rocky road flavor.

Steve realizes he’s staring. “Are-are you Robin’s friend?”

But before you can even get an answer out, the girl in question appears out of nowhere as if she had super-hearing, or could sense whenever her two best friends engaged in an awkward moment. “Yes, she is!”

You’re too consumed by something of embarrassment and shock to react. You try to remember how Robin was telling you that he was a completely different person, and you really would genuinely like him.

A deep breath later and you’re ready to speak. “Yes, I am.”

Steve takes a moment to collect himself, meanwhile he’s hyper aware of everything. (Was his hair okay? Did he forget to put on deodorant this morning? Shit, he was eating cookie dough this morning, did he have chocolate on his face?)

You offer him a friendly smile when he doesn’t say anything. Little does he know, you’re in your head contemplating the entirety of your high school career. You always felt guilty about having a crush on Steve. He really was the worst. Robin never quite knew about your crush, or so you thought. You try to tell yourself that it’s okay now, he was different. But you wouldn’t give in that fast.

Robin coughs.

“Okay, well. I just realized I forgot to take inventory of the toppings in the freezer,” she says with fake disappointment, and you swear you could scream at her in the moment. “Be right back!” She’s so giddy about it, she almost skips back to the freezer.

And alas, he plan to get you and your high school crush alone has proved successful.

Steve sighs, deciding to clear the air straight out of the gate. “Look, I know I was terrible in high school. I just wanted to apologize for anything I ever did to you that made you feel… I don’t know, shitty.”

You shake your head, the apology kind of hurts your heart. But still, you’re glad he’s owning up to how horrendous of a human being he was. “You never really did anything to me specifically. But yeah, you were a shitty person.”

You watch, his dark eyes softening. He looked he might cry.

God, he was so sorry.

“But I’ve heard you’ve changed now, so maybe we should start from scratch,” you give him an apologetic look, stepping closer so that you’re only separated by the obnoxiously colorful cash register, sticking your hand out. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

He grins. He takes your hand and shakes it without hesitation. “I’m Steve.”

It’s a nice moment, and he doesn’t know it, but he’s already taking a huge liking toward you.

Dammit, Robin Buckley, you match-making wizard.

“I know what it’s like,” you speak, suddenly pulling Steve from his thoughts, “to be ashamed of the person you were. To not even identify with your past-self. It takes a lot of soul searching to admit how truly awful you can be. It definitely takes your esteem down a bit, but it’ll all work itself out. It always does.” You give him a genuine smile.

You’re so nice he feels sorry for even doubting your kindness, for thinking you may be one to hold a grudge against him. It was clear to him that any hostile feelings you once had towards him had dissipated since graduation.

“Thank you,” he forces himself to choke down his emotion, “for understanding.”

You’re nodding. He’s watching, and he doesn’t know if its the immense empathy you possess or the way your smile makes you look like you’re an angel sent from heaven, but his heart breaks a little as he watches you survey the room. He’s wondering how it’s possible that he’s developed a crush on you in just mere minutes of talking to you. Maybe that was just the normal effect you had on people. He wonders if everyone falls in love with you upon your first meeting, and he thinks about how he could really use someone like that in his life.

“Um, anyway.” you clear your throat, suddenly aware of the palpable tension between you, “Robin and I were going to go the movies next weekend. I have room in my car for one more, if you wanted to-”

“Yes,” Steve says it like he’ll die if he doesn’t. And maybe he will. “Sorry. Um. Yeah, yes. I’d love to come… if that’s what you were going to ask.”

A giggle escapes your lips and it makes Steve stomach do a flip. “Then it’s a plan, Harrington.”

“What are we talking about, guys?” Robin’s voice breaks you both out of your conversation, and you both turn to look at him.

“I was just asking Steve if he wanted to come with us to the movies next weekend.”

“... And?”

“And, Robin, I said yes.”

Her eyes light up like a child on Christmas morning. “Alrighty then! We’l; see you next week, then, Steve.” She says, her hand grabbing your arm as she’s heading towards the exit. She’s wearing a shit-eating grin that makes your cheeks red.

“See you then.” He says, but it’s so quiet neither of you hear it.

Frantically, you wave to him before the doors close behind you. He smiles and waves back when he sees you pointing to the corner of your own mouth. He’s confused for a moment before he sees his reflection in the glass protecting the ice cream.

A smudge of chocolate.

He shakes his head and wipes it off in one swift motion. You’re grinning from outside the store, giving him one final smirk before disappearing around the corner with Robin.

He can’t wait for next weekend. He thinks about how much he already likes you and how much Dustin is going to get a kick out of this when he tells him about it.

Yeah, he likes you a lot.

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #stranger things

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kyvir · 4 years

Text

Sincerely Yours

Sarada loves her job, and lost an opportunity because the President gave it to his son, Boruto. Why did Boruto take it? Because he heard there was a feisty manager on the team. Watch them fight, argue, tease, flirt, “accidentally” fall in love, and deny it to the bitter end.

Rating: M Pairing: BoruSara

Collaboration with @kairi-chan!

Chapter Four

previous |

Two weeks after starting his new job as Marketing Director, Boruto was up to his neck in paperwork. His father was a great man, he was kind and thoughtful when it came to his family, his friends and his employees too. Everybody loved him because he was so easy to love.

But he was an idiot.

His desperation to have the position filled made a lot more sense once Boruto had enough time to get in and look into everything. It took time and patience, two things Boruto didn’t have much of with everything else to worry about.

Regardless of how annoyed he was, Boruto kept his complaints to himself and did the work, catching up on all the paperwork. Contracts needed renewing and there were several meetings with clients both old and new to handle. Planning around Naruto’s schedule and everyone else’s was even more of a hassle, but Boruto accepted it.

Everything was fine and well until Naruto denied his son’s most recent proposal. That was when Boruto had it and his complaints were about to fly freely.

While dealing with everything else, Boruto was determined to bring his own suggestions for new products. After all, he had a knack for these things and his father knew that. Never in a million years did Boruto think he’d be shot down and the email he received from Naruto was absolutely horrendous.

Boruto,

Yuck. I will never approve of something so atrocious. Burger flavored ramen??? Not a chance.

Get over it,

Dad

“This bastard!” Boruto groaned, half wanting to punch his computer monitor or at least sling it across the room.

Not bothering with a reply, Boruto instead got to his feet and left his office. He’d confront his father directly over this. For the entire week, Boruto had been thinking about this project and working on it along with everything else. He had Inojin make a mock-design, Chocho make a social media plan and Sarada make a promotional campaign plan. He even managed to get Kagura to commit a few accounts without having the full details on the product. Shikadai even made a projection for him, moved around their stocks so there was room for this new flavor to get on the market.

It was a lot of shit.

And Boruto wanted burger flavored ramen.

When he made it to his father’s office, he didn’t knock. He slammed the door open and glared at the man who was on the phone, kicked back in his seat with his feet on his desk. Naruto scrambled around to straighten himself at the intrusion, nearly dropping his phone in the process.

“Uh, Sorry Gaara, we will talk numbers later. Something came up. Call you later?” Naruto rambled once he pulled his phone back to his ear.

“Alright, dear,” Hinata replied and Naruto’s face paled.

He apparently hadn’t realized he’d accidentally put the phone on speaker when he was fumbling with it. Boruto just rolled his eyes as Naruto hung up the phone and set it on his desk.

“What the hell, Dad? We’re having burger flavored ramen added or else.” Boruto would win this battle.

Naruto’s brows furrowed. “Watch your tone, Boruto. You may be my son, but you still report to me here.”

“Right because your email really set a professional standard.” Boruto scoffed. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked on this project and need I remind you who came to whom begging for help.”

Naruto stood from his table, rising a few inches over his son. “I asked HR to hold the position for you. Just because you have it now, doesn’t mean you will get what you want.” Daddy Naruto was gone, and in came the president of Ichiraku Ramen Corp. “We just released a new line. That’s five products. You do realize that releasing another one within the year will cannibalize them, right?”

“So you would be willing to lose this potential? I just laid down a gold mine in front of you… and this isn’t the first time so you already know. There’s a reason you wanted me here.”

Naruto’s gaze softened and he sighed. His son always came up with creative and innovative ideas. Although a burger flavored ramen does sound atrocious, it could have some novelty potential, as long as it was priced and marketed right. He took a few moments, doing the math and thinking of a way to save the new line but get Boruto out of his office with no more whining.

“Six months. Rotational, on K-mart shelves only.” Naruto raised a finger when Boruto looked ready to retort. “And price it at novelty. I need to gain back my capital for creating a new flavor on short notice.”

“That’s ridiculous. But I’ll accept, only because I have other projects that will be on your desk shortly. If anybody needs to get over it, it’s you.” He couldn’t wait to see Naruto’s reaction to his other ideas.

He would hate them all.

Barely a moment after he returned to his own office, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket with a curse, but his face and mood softened once he saw it was his sister. He hadn’t been keeping in touch like he should. He hadn’t even went to visit in a week.

“Hima?” He asked after clearing his throat and making sure his tone held none of his earlier annoyance.

“I cooked you dinner last night.”

Shit.

“I made your favorite strawberry cake too.”

Double shit.

“I called you… and when you never answered or showed up, I went by your place with your dinner and the whole cake. But you didn’t answer the door.”

It was all over for him.

“Now, just wait a minute, Hima. Work has been a little hectic and what time did you come by?” He had to have already been asleep, otherwise he would have heard her knocking.

“You haven’t called me in days…”

This wasn’t good at all.

“I’m sorry. Don’t be upset, please.” Boruto frowned just as someone knocked on his office door and he sighed. “Come in,” he knew it wasn’t Sarada whenever she didn’t just peek in immediately. As the door opened, Himawari groaned in frustration, she was mad at him. “I’ll make it up to you, okay? Let me take you to dinner, I’ll buy you something sweet and we can do anything you want after.”

“Flowers?”

“Flowers. Got it.” Boruto said as he glanced over at Chocho who was stepping in quietly.

Himawari giggled. “Okay, bro. Pick me up at six. You better not be late. I love you!”

It wouldn’t be easy getting out of work in time to make it happen, but he would no matter what. “I love you too.” He said and then ended the call to give his attention to Chocho. “What’s up?”

She stood there, mouth hanging open and trying to form a cohesive sentence. But didn’t get to spit it out without making some weird noises first. “I just… umm… the meeting got moved to three? And it’ll be in the Noodle Room. Sarada told me to tell you.”

“Right, thank you.” Boruto smiled at her. “Tell her I’ll be there and please have her reschedule my five o’clock to tomorrow sometime.”

Chocho blinked. “Your five o’clock? Isn’t that with the agency?”

“It is. She’ll make it happen. I have to get out of here early today.” There was no getting around it and he couldn’t get out of the meeting so rescheduling was the only way.

“Okay…” was all she could say before going out of his office and practically running down the hall, back to the marketing department’s area. This was big news. Wait ‘til the gang hears their boss was cancelling an outside meeting for a date.

Once Boruto entered the meeting room, his team was already sitting down, whispering to each other about something he couldn’t hear. Sarada was sitting at his left, not saying a word or looking at his direction. She was typing furiously, writing an email and setting a new meeting invitation.

“Sorry I’m late,” Shikadai came in, holding on to his laptop. “Just had to check something before heading here.” He took a seat next to Boruto and hooked up his screen to the projector, showing an excel file with numbers and rows. The columns were full of the products, numbers showing off their demand per month.

“For the cells in yellow, these are the new products. The blue ones are for the burger ramen.” He looked around before proceeding. “I moved the yellow cells down to the end of the year, spreading some of the demand a little thinner for K-Mart to make some room. This is my first suggestion. But what I really recommend is we limit to three or four products for K-Mart and then slide in the burger to take two shelf spaces instead.”

Chocho and Inojin exchanged looks before looking at Sarada. She did not look happy.

“I know, I know,” Shikadai held his hands up. “It’ll hurt the line, but look, “he opened the other tab and showed more demand for other channels. “I got Kagura to get the supermarkets to take more. That way, we don’t hurt the target, and get to let the Burger shine on the convenience store shelf a little more.”

Boruto grinned. It was a sound argument. Didn’t expect anything less from Shikadai. “I like it.” But before sealing the deal, he looked at Sarada. “Thoughts?”

The look she gave him was cold. Oh, she was angry. About what, he didn’t really know. “We would have to redo the whole campaign for K-Mart,” Sarada started. “The commitment I have for the Point of Sales would have to be terminated and reworked. Did Kagura say he could have the account accept it?”

Boruto pouted. What did the sales guy have to do with it?

Shikadai rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, he’s working on it. Hard to deny when Naruto himself asked the account…”

Sarada’s lips turned into a fine line and she looked at Chocho and Inojin. Both of them looking fearful of their incoming workload. “Well, if Mr. Uzumaki insists, we can only make sure it’s launched well.”

Things were going as smoothly as they could, but Sarada was definitely upset with him about something. Boruto didn’t have time to question her about it, having less than an hour to complete his work for the day after the meeting ended. He was rushing and stressed, but as long as it was for Himawari’s sake, it was fine.

It was still after five before he hurried out of his office, already calling her on his way towards the elevator. She sent him to voicemail, probably thinking he was going to cancel on her which made him feel even worse.

“Hima don’t be like this. I’m leaving work now, I’ll be to you before six. Be ready for me okay?” He ended the call and finally reached the elevator, quickly pressing the button to call it. He had no idea where he would get flowers from on the way, so he was now trying to search nearby places on his phone.

He heard heels clicking on the floor and immediately looked up, it was Sarada, on the way to the ladies’ room. Perfect.

“Hey, Sarada!” Boruto beamed as he jogged over to her. “Do you know of any good flower shops near here?”

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, face impassive but still obviously not happy about needing to interact with him. “Flowers? It depends. What’s the occasion?”

“Huh what?”

Sarada rolled her eyes and drawled, “Celebratory? Did someone pass? Or, did you screw up and need to apologize?” She waved her hands around. “Like that.”

Still a little stressed and worried, Boruto didn’t even think about her sassing him. “The latter.”

Again with her lips being in a thin, fine line. “Inojin’s mother has a flower shop down at Seventh. For whatever the occasion.”

“Awesome! That’s on my way. Thanks for the help, Sarada. I’m sure I’ll find something to make her happy there.” He grinned and winked at her before hurrying back to the elevator. He’d missed it, but it was still waiting thankfully and he was able to get on his way.

If he was late, he’d never hear the end of it.

The flower shop was only ten minutes from him. He walked inside with flowers on his brain. So many options, but what would she prefer? Definitely yellow. Sunflowers maybe? His head hurt from overthinking as he opened the door. A bell chimed to announce his entry and he walked in, inhaling the calming aroma of many different flowers.

Boruto walked through, looking at some arrangements that were already made for the day and then at all the different selections they had. These things were difficult for men, especially doting brothers.

A lady with long blond hair and a pretty smile came out from the back and grinned at him. “Hello, dear. What can I get for you?”

“Wow, you must be Inojin’s mother. I see who he gets his looks from.” Boruto grinned back. “I’m looking for something sweet and yellow. Do you have sunflowers by chance?”

The lady’s hand went up to her cheek and giggled at his compliment. “Oh thank you. I’m Ino, by the way. I’m sorry, but we just ran out. I have some daisies and carnations. What would you prefer?”

Thinking quick, he replied, “Daisies.”

“Okay,” she walked around the counter and fetched some from a base nearby. “Do you have a budget I need to keep in mind?”

Judging by how upset Himawari sounded earlier? “No, go crazy.”

Ino’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wow, not many young men your age say that around here. Must be a really special one, huh?” Ino picked up more flowers along the way and laid them all on the counter.

“Oh yeah. She is. She gets what she wants, always.” Boruto shrugged. He had no plans to change that either. He loved spoiling his sister.

The lady nodded and continued arranging the flowers for him, it wasn’t even done yet but it was starting to look like a huge one. “Known her long?”

“Her whole life.” Boruto nodded and chuckled softly.

Ino hummed and smiled. “She must adore you, then. Quite young, I assume?” She teased. “You look to be just as old as my son.”

“Yeah, she’s a few years younger than me.” Boruto smiled as he stared at the forming arrangement. He was damn glad she hadn’t been his older sister. She wouldn’t have been as cute then.

Ino chuckled and placed the ribbon on the wrapping. “Do you need a card, dear?”

“Yes, please.” He said and when she pulled one out, Boruto pulled his sunflower pen out of his chest pocket and wrote a simple, I love you, before putting the pen back and handing over the card for her to finish up. “It looks great, she’s going to be so happy.”

“Any girl would be,” Ino smiled sweetly and showed him his bill. Boruto thought he was seeing double but even if he blinked twice, it was still the same amount. It didn’t matter, though. He wanted the best flowers for his sister, and these were definitely it. He handed his card over, and Ino processed the payment quickly. When she returned it, she wished him a good night and watched him leave the flower shop with a large bouquet of flowers.

By some miracle, Boruto pulled into his parents driveway with ten minutes to spare. He finally breathed a sigh of relief as he exited his car, flowers in hand. Himawari has never called him back, obviously wanting him to stress over her even more. She really liked giving him a hard time, but he still adored everything about her. The door was unlocked and he let himself in, peering around all the flowers to look for her.

“Hima! I’m home.” Boruto called as he walked through the home, going into the kitchen first.

She came in as soon as he set the flowers on the counter. “Ooh, pretty!” She cooed and danced over, bumping him aside so she could get a closer look—and a feel, and a smell. “Wow, Boruto. They’re perfect. You came straight from work but at least you look nice. Where are we going for dinner?”

“I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

“Okay, you’re forgiven.” She grinned and hugged him tight.

Himawari decided on having burgers at their old favorite spot. It was a good thing that she had adapted to liking almost everything he liked and even if he was willing to spoil her with anything else, she still took him into consideration. She was an angel like that. She deserved the world and Boruto was here to give it to her.

They took their time over dinner, catching up on his life at work, her life at school and their mom. Boruto hadn’t been to see her recently either and had only seen his dad at work for work. He knew he had to do better and he was going crazy without his mom's cooking anyway and Himawari’s too. She’d learned a lot over the years, things Boruto’s mind just couldn’t seem to comprehend.

So, he promised to join them over the weekend for dinner to catch up after he’d taken Himawari for ice cream and then to the park just to walk by the water there. It was late, but he was able to see his mom for a moment and his dad, without them talking about anything to do with work. It was nice and even though it was a work night, he didn’t mind getting back home late. It had been a good night, Himawari was happy and he had enjoyed himself as well.

Now if only the next day wouldn’t be so bad at work, he would be in a good place.

#borusara #borusara fanfiction #borusara multichapter #Sincerely Yours #Chapter four #borusara office au #double tsundere #boruto and sarada #Kairi-chan #ss-tyytyy #collaboration #Hima is a spoiled princess #Boruto making burger flavored ramen a thing #Sarada is so over him

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