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wowwwwwweeeeeeee
#being left on read being ignored getting ghosted is a massive trigger#why did it take me this long to figure it out#like. bro fell asleep while we were makin plans to see each other last night#this morning he apologized bc. well what else is there to do#and it was an accident i KNOW he didn’t do it intentionally#he worked yesterday I’m sure he was tired#logically it’s all said n good n fine#BUT IM STILL UPSET AND I KNOW ITS MY OWN BRAIN MAGNIFYING THE SITUATION AND HE CANT DO ANYTHING ABOUT THAT#I’m upset and sad and feel small and alone and FOR WHAT#FOR!!! WHAT!!!#i KNOW i sound stupid and dramatic and worse things have happened to other people AND ME!!#and i wanna explain it to him but idk how????#I told him I spiraled last night and all he sent was a sad face emoji like#if I send a whole paragraph he’ll give me a fucking crumb#I FEEL SO CRAZY AND INSANE LIKE WHY.#gfrjrjrjrjrjrksjdjejdjdjehshfhe#can my brain be normal please can. my brain not take things so personally#edge speaks#edit: i may have ruined everything w my crazies#edit 2: no I didn’t
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You Are Not the Kind of Boy (Who Should Be Marrying the Wrong Girl): Part Three
A/N: Happy Day Three of @sjmromanceweek! This is the final part of Regency Elucien, and for this one, there's no prompt squinting needed since there's actually a proposal. Hope everyone enjoyed this little sequel as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Read on AO3 // Previous Part
Lucien Spellcleaver is going mad.
That’s the only explanation. It’s the only way to describe the way his mind has been spiraling, the way his thoughts swirl and swirl around only one singular thought. Only one singular person. It’s the only explanation for the way his heart writhes and throbs between his ribs, a palpable, tangible pain. The only explanation for why he’s pacing back and forth across his study, scrubbing a hand through his hair until it’s a tangle of knots.
“Well, this is a sad sight.”
Lucien rolls his eyes at the sound of that voice, whirling around to find Eris leaning casually against the door jamb. “What do you want?”
“Can’t I come visit my favorite baby brother?”
“Half brother.”
Eris shrugs, straightening and stepping further into the room. “Mother said that you were sulking.”
“I am not sulking.”
Eris raises an eyebrow, looking pointedly toward Lucien’s desk, toward the pile of paper and ink sprawled across the wood. Three letters. He’s written three letters and received not a single answer. Three letters, each one dissolving more and more into a mess of words and smeared ink and desperation.
He should have told her. He should have told her down by the lake before anything else had happened. But he'd been stupid. He'd been selfish and drunk off the way it felt to finally kiss her, to have her in his arms. Addicted to the way her skin felt against his own, what it was like to have her pliant and beautiful beneath him.
He’d been sure she must already know exactly how he feels. How he’d do anything for her if only she said the word. How his heart beats only for her and he’d gladly tear it straight from his chest and place it in her awaiting hands.
But then she’d vanished in the night like some sort of wraith.
He’d tried to give her space at first, thought that was what she needed and wanted to respect that. Then he’d tried to call on her, only to be informed by a neighbor that the Archerons weren’t home, off to the quick and quiet wedding of the eldest.
That’s when he sent the first letter that went unanswered.
He’d tried to catch Elain in town next, practically loitering at all the places he knew she frequented, but that had been just as unsuccessful. And had led to the second letter that went unanswered. Hoping for his opportunity at the promenade had followed, but the entire Archeron family was oddly missing. And his third letter went unanswered. Then, just a few days ago, he was sure his time would finally come at the house party hosted by Kallias and his wife Viviane, but it seemed the Archerons were uninvited from the festivities.
So, now, here Lucien is. Over two weeks removed from that night with Elain. And absolutely losing his mind.
“I don’t understand why you’re still panting after her,” Eris continues, pushing off the door jamb and stepping fully into the room. “You can’t possibly have missed the Archeron family scandal.”
“And yet, if I recall correctly, weren’t you courting the eldest Archeron not long ago?” Lucien fires back, still remembering the ball his father hosted last season, the way Eris had spent most of the evening twirling Nesta across the dance floor. He still remembers the way Eris’s proposal had been denied, Nesta with little interest in moving to Paris.
Eris hums, his face the perfect mask of boredom. “I can’t decide if I dodged a bullet or if I should be offended that she couldn’t be persuaded to warm my bed unwed.”
“Jealous of a Scotsman, Eris?”
“Never.”
Despite the growled tone of his half brother, Lucien doesn’t believe Eris for a moment. Still, he doesn’t have time for this. Doesn’t have time for their mother’s attempted meddling. Doesn’t have time for Eris’s judgment or opinions. He doesn’t have time to keep pacing around his study if he’s being honest.
“Look, I need to… if you’ll excuse me.”
It’s all that Lucien offers before he brushes past Eris and out the door. He doesn’t stop, heading down the main stairs and all the way out of the estate. He forgoes a carriage or even a horse, hoping the walk will help him clear his head a bit, will help him decide exactly what he intends to say.
But the afternoon sun does little to dispel the anxiety churning low in his gut. The late summer breeze only winding through his lungs, swirling with the tension there and squeezing. By the time the iron gates of the Archeron manor come into view, Lucien’s heart is a thunderous beat between his ribs. He just prays it doesn’t show too badly on his face as he makes his way up the front steps and rings the bell.
It feels like years while he waits, but soon the door is being pulled open and Lucien is met with a pair of blue gray eyes blinking as confusedly at him as he feels.
“Feyre?”
“Lucien. What are you doing here?”
Lucien clears his throat, flexing his fingers where they’re tucked neatly behind his back. “I was hoping I might speak with Elain actually.”
“We’re not allowing callers,” Feyre explains, already beginning to close the door in his face before she hesitates for a moment. “Sorry.”
The door closes with a soft snick, and Lucien can do nothing but gape at the wood, stare at it as if it will magically open and Elain will be standing there on the other side. With a frustrated huff, he spins on his heel, scrubbing a hand through his hair while he makes his way back down the front steps.
“Denied as well?”
Lucien snaps his head in the direction of the sudden voice, surprised to find Rhysand Night leaning casually against the wall of the manor, partially hidden in the shadows cast by the tall branches of the trees lining the street. The Duke looks almost out of place in the bright afternoon, with his dark hair, his black jacket and pants. Still, the sight of him has Lucien raising his chin, squaring his shoulders even as he shoves his hand in his pockets to give an air of indifference.
“Don’t tell me you’re calling on Elain Archeron as well.”
Rhysand chuckles, picking a piece of lint off his jacket sleeve and flicking it aside. “Don’t worry, Spellcleaver. No one but you is calling on your Archeron sweetheart. Especially after what Cassian pulled.”
“He’s your friend I thought.”
“He is, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still think him an idiot. Unfortunately, there was no talking him out of that one. Something about Nesta Archeron has had him ensnared for years.”
Lucien glances back toward Archeron manor. “Nesta MacLeod now I hear.”
“And are you hoping for Elain Spellcleaver?”
Lucien snaps his attention back to Rhysand, quick to fire back, “Are you hoping to make Feyre a duchess?”
Rhysand laughs again, shaking his head. “Touche, Spellcleaver.”
“I wish you luck. Feyre and I sometimes had lessons together as children. I remember quite distinctly the way she swore she’d never marry,” Lucien offers, not even bothering to bite back his smirk at the memories. Rhysand will certainly have his hands full if Feyre is who he continues to pursue.
“So she keeps telling me,” Rhysand mutters, rolling his eyes, but Lucien swears it’s not annoyance in the Duke’s expression. It’s almost excitement at the challenge brewing beneath that violet gaze.
“Is your plan to lurk in the shadows here then? Until she changes her mind?”
“What can I say? I’ve never been one for more traditional courting. Perhaps you might consider the same.”
Lucien scoffs, turning away from Rhysand and walking out of the Archeron manor gate. He makes his way down the path that leads back to his family’s estate, but Rhysand’s words continue to ring in his mind. Like a small, needling voice prickling along the back of his mind, scraping and digging their claws in. It’s stupid. It would be stupid. Possibly the most stupid thing he’ll ever do.
But isn’t idiocy what got Lucien into this mess in the first place?
He waits until the sun starts to dip low in the sky, shadows growing across the grass and purples and blues bleeding through the world around him. He waits until the flicker of candlelight casts the windows of the manor in glowing orange. Thankfully, he remembers enough from his conversations with Feyre, finding the balcony she often mentioned using when she’d sneak away in the night.
It’s more difficult than he anticipated, finding the right stones and bricks to use as hand and footholds, his grip slipping a few times. But soon, he’s pulling himself up over the railing and onto the balcony, more scrapes and bruises than he wanted but still worth it. Just like in Feyre’s stories, the door is unlocked, and Lucien is able to slip inside with ease.
He has to be quick, but he has to be quiet too. He tiptoes down the hall, pausing at each door and pressing his ear against the wood to listen for voices. He even dares to open a few, just a crack, to peek into the rooms beyond. Finally, on the fourth door he tries, Lucien is greeted with the sight of long, beautiful curls of golden brown hair.
He darts into the room, closing the door quickly behind his back. Elain whips her head around at the sound, brown eyes widening in surprise and her brush clattering against her vanity table. She’s on her feet in a second, and for a moment, Lucien feels struck dumb. Her hair is a beautiful curtain of gold where it falls along her shoulders and down her back, her night dress lacey and white. Her warm, brown eyes draw him in as much as the pink beginning to dust across the constellation of freckles on her cheeks.
“Lucien,” Elain exclaims, snatching up her robe and tugging it on. “What are you doing here?”
“I am going insane,” Lucien explains exasperatedly, stepping closer to her. “You have made me insane, Elain.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’ve been avoiding me. And do not say that you are not because I know you are.”
Elain crosses her arms across her chest, not quite meeting his gaze fully, and Lucien knows that he was right all along. Knows that her sneaking out of his room, that this silence between them, was fully intentional. He dares to step even closer to her, until they’re practically toe to toe, until he can fully track the way her bottom lip finds home between her teeth. His hands reach up, skating a hair's breadth away from Elain’s arms before he hesitates, dropping his arms back to his side again.
“Did I do something wrong?” Lucien asks gently, practically pleading. “Did I hurt you our night together?”
Elain opens her mouth before seeming to think better of whatever she was going to say. She swallows hard, and when she finally speaks, her voice is quiet enough that Lucien almost doesn’t hear it. “I missed my monthlies.”
“Oh.”
It’s all Lucien can think to say, the only word, the only syllable he’s able to push past the pressure suddenly squeezing in around his throat. It’s certainly a turn of events. Certainly not how he expected this night to go. But there’s no denying the spark that flares to life in his gut, fanning the embers glowing warmly between his ribs.
“I’m so sorry,” Elain says, turning away from him completely.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“You’re going to be a Duke after your father. I am sure you do not wish there to be any bastard children. But don’t worry. I’ll speak with my mother. Perhaps, there is somewhere far away I can go. Then no one will ever know.”
“Go away?” Lucien splutters, reaching for her shoulders and trying to turn Elain back around to face him. “Elain—”
Elain steps out of his grip, but she at least whirls back around, brown eyes misty with unshed tears. “And I won’t tell anyone. I swear it. I will lie if I have to.”
“Elain…” Lucien feels near hysterical, finally giving in to the desire twitching through his fingers and cradling Elain’s face between his palms. “Marry me.”
Elain huffs, tugging his hands away from her face. “Don’t be stupid, Lucien. I did not tell you to trap you into wedding me. You’re going to be a Duke. You’re meant to have a respectable wife.”
“And who says you are not? Who says you are not everything a gentleman could ever dream of in a wife? Who says you are not everything I could ever want?”
“You’re crazy. What will your father say? Marrying an Archeron after everything that’s happened?”
“Let him try and stop me. And if he does, I will give up my title. Gladly.”
“Lucien!”
“Dammit, Elain. I love you.”
Elain rolls her eyes, and if Lucien wasn’t so exasperated, he would be more endeared by the gesture. “You are not thinking straight. I know our night together was… pleasurable… But I didn’t think—”
“You think this is just because of that night?” Lucien asks with a frustrated huff of his own. He grabs Elain’s hands in his, clutching them to his chest, to where his heart beats solely for her. “Elain, I have loved you for months now. I’m sorry that my poor courting attempts have not made that abundantly clear. For all your accusations about me being a scoundrel, being around you turns me into a fumbling fool. I never know what to say. And oh, I wanted to say it. That night. Before that night… But my love, you were the one who said no talking. The one who promised we’d speak only to sneak away while I slept. I would have asked you for your hand right there beside that lake. I would have asked you that night in my bed. And I am asking you right now. Marry me.”
The tears slip free from Elain’s eyes, and Lucien is quick to reach a hand up, catching them where they roll down her cheeks. “I can’t.”
“Elain,” Lucien begs, his voice almost broken.
“I have not told you everything.” Using their hands that are still joined, Elain tugs Lucien toward her bed until they’re both sitting. “It’s about my family… You know that my father is a merchant, but what you don’t know is that there was an awful storm. It sank all of my father’s ships with everything on them.”
“Okay, but what does that—”
“You don’t understand, Lucien. We lost everything. My family has nothing now. We had to dismiss the staff. Mama has had to sell her nicest jewels just to keep food on the table. It’s why Nesta was going to marry Viscount Mandray, and now? Now, we’re nothing.”
Lucien squeezes Elain’s hands in his. “You think I care about that?”
“But you should! You’re going to be a Duke someday.”
“Elain,” Lucien starts, leaning close until his forehead rests against hers. “Do you love me too? Do you want to marry me?”
“It’s not that simple,” Elain whispers, already beginning to shake her head.
“It’s a yes or no question, my love.”
Elain sighs softly, sliding her hand across Lucien’s cheek until it’s cradled in her palm. “You already know the answer.”
“Then that’s all I need to know.”
Lucien closes the breath of space between them, pressing his mouth to Elain’s. She makes a quiet, contented sound into the kiss, parting her lips under his ministrations, and it feels right. It tastes like coming home. It takes everything within Lucien to will himself to pull back, to not allow himself to sink and drown in the feeling of Elain’s soft, golden hair threaded between his fingers, of her body pressed warmly against him, of her lips slotted firmly and perfectly against his own. But he does all the same, pulling away from Elain and pushing up to his feet to stride back across the room.
“Where are you going?” Elain asks, jumping up to her own feet.
Lucien pauses with his hand curled around the latch to the door. He turns over his shoulder back toward Elain, offering her a smirk and a wink, before he yanks open the door and slips out into the hall. It’s easy enough to retrace his steps, back out of the balcony, to climb over the railing and jump down onto the grass. He takes a moment to brush off his pants, straighten the cuffs of his sleeves, and then he’s stalking back around the manor and right to the Archeron’s front door.
He has to ring the bell twice before the door is finally pulled open. Lady Archeron’s face is pinched in annoyance, but Lucien watches the exact moment her eyes widen in recognition, realizing just who is standing on their front step. In an instant, her face morphs into a polite smile, and she dips into a small curtsy.
“Your Grace. To what do we owe the pleasure at such an hour?”
“Lady Archeron,” Lucien greets, dipping his head politely. “I am actually hoping to speak with your husband.”
Lady Archeron’s eyes glance away, further into the house, before meeting his gaze again. “Forgive me, your Grace, but we are not currently accepting callers or visitors.”
“I must press, my Lady. It is quite urgent.”
Lady Archeron’s attention darts away again, and Lucien can see the conflict playing across her expression, but finally she appeases. She pulls the door open fully, gesturing for Lucien to step inside. His footfalls echo across the floors, through the silence of the front hall. He glances around, spying Elain standing at the top of the stairs, one foot raised as if she’s about to step down. He waits until her mother’s back is turned before sending her another wink and following Lady Archeron further into the manor.
“You’ll have to forgive our home, your Grace,” Lady Archeron offers, leading Lucien down the winding halls. “A terrible sickness has torn through our staff. We had to send them away tonight.”
Lucien hums in understanding, not correcting her or letting on to the fact he knows the real reason for the lack of staff in the manor. Lady Archeron comes to a stop in front of a door, but she doesn’t even bother knocking before pushing it open, revealing a study on the other side. Lord Archeron sits behind the large desk in the center of the room. Papers are spread across the wood around him, but judging from the glass of amber liquid at his elbow, the way his head is cradled in his hand, Lucien suspects little work is actually being completed.
Lord Archeron looks up in surprise at the intrusion, practically jumping to his feet when he takes in exactly who is stepping inside his study. “Lucien Spellcleaver. I must say I am surprised to see you in my study.”
Lord Archeron shares a pointed look with his wife, the two sharing some sort of silent conversation, but Lady Archeron doesn’t seem to back down from her husband’s ire. She merely closes the study door and walks around to stand at her husband’s shoulder. Lucien takes it as his cue to settle into one of the open seats on the other side of the desk.
“I do apologize for the intrusion,” Lucien begins, leaning back casually. “But I simply could not wait. I’m here to ask for your daughter’s hand. For Elain’s hand.”
Lord Archeron clears his throat a bit awkwardly, turning to share another look with his wife. “We are, of course, honored at such a proposal, your Grace…”
“I am well aware of your family’s financial situation, Lord Archeron, if that is your concern.” Neither Lord nor Lady Archeron are able to cover their surprise, their panicked expression, but Lucien merely chuckles quietly. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of informing the gossip mob of the ton. But I do wish to marry your daughter. I will write for a Special License. We can keep the ceremony small and private if you’d rather avoid your family being the center of the gossip ring any more than it already is.”
“You’re a mad man,” Lord Archeron scoffs, shaking his head.
“Maybe I am.”
“If you’re aware of our financial situation, then you know we have nothing to offer. You’d really marry my daughter without a dowry?”
“I will. Feel free to draw up the contract right now,” Lucien offers, leaning forward and meeting Lord Archeron’s gaze head on. “But I will have Elain move into my family’s estate tonight. You’ve dismissed your staff, and I will not have my wife living in such conditions.”
“Your Grace…”
“Do we have an accord?” When Lord Archeron doesn’t answer right away, Lucien stands up, leaning over the desk. “Do we have an accord? I can assure you, you will not receive such an offer from any other gentleman of my status and title.”
Lord Archeron considers for a moment, eyeing Lucien, but then he’s turning back to his wife. “Gather Elain.”
Lady Archeron nods her head, vanishing back out of the study and closing the door behind her with a soft snick. It doesn’t take Lord Archeron long to draw up the contract, even with the way he pauses in bewilderment each time Lucien demands the conditions be most favorable to Elain, with the way he practically balks at the pin money suggestion Lucien makes. But the ink has barely dried before Lucien is taking the pen and signing his name.
There’s a knock at the study door, and when the door swings open, Elain is standing there with her mother. It takes barely three steps for Lucien to stride over to her. He takes her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“Lucien…” Elain whispers, peering up at him in confusion.
“Pack your bags. I’m going to go get a carriage from my family’s estate, and then I’m going to come back for you. Wife.”
~ * * * ~
Lucien all but sprints up the gravel walkway to his family’s estate, yanking open the large front doors and rushing inside. He quickly glances around the front hall, spying one of the house maids with a bundle of linens in her arms. Her eyes widen at his slightly frazzled state, the way he all but burst through the doors, but she seems to come back to herself quickly, dipping into a low curtsy.
“Have you seen my father?”
“I believe he’s in the east drawing room, your Grace,” the house maid offers quietly.
With a nod of thanks, Lucien starts to head in that direction before another thought occurs to him and he turns back around. “Oh, and can you inform Mrs Baxter to have one of the room’s in the west wing made up? My betrothed will be arriving at the estate tonight.”
Lucien doesn’t wait for the house maid to confirm she understands or to say anything else. He continues down the halls, his strides hurried and determined until he comes to the door for the east wing’s drawing room. Thankfully, his father is indeed there when he steps inside, lounging in one of the large, comfortable chairs, a book opened in one hand and tea still steaming on the small table at his elbow.
“Lucien,” Helion greets, his smile slipping away after he takes in the state of his son. “Is everything alright?”
“I’m getting married,” Lucien explains, deciding not to bother with beating around the bush. “To Elain Archeron.”
Helion closes his book and sets it aside. “I see…”
“And there’s no point trying to protest or stop me. I’ve already signed the marriage contract with her father.”
“Well, then I—”
“Lucien Spellcleaver,” Aurelia’s clipped tone precedes the door swinging open again, his mother’s pinched face coming into view. “What is this I hear from the staff about you being engaged?”
Lucien winces at his mother’s expression, but he refuses to back down. “Because it’s true. I just came from the Archeron manor, and Elain will be moving into the estate tonight.”
Aurelia huffs, her exasperation clear. “And you didn’t think to tell your mother what you were planning?”
“Weren’t you the one who taught me that love makes you do crazy things?”
“You do then? Love her?”
Lucien thinks of the honey strands of Elain’s hair, the way they curl around her face and cascade down her shoulders and back. He thinks of the deep brown of her eyes and the way they spark beneath the afternoon sun. He thinks of her kindness, of the beautiful sight of her smile and the melody of her laugh. He thinks of the sweetness of her kiss, and the adorable expression that takes over her face when she calls him a scoundrel.
“I do,” he breathes, unable to fight down a grin. “I really do.”
His mother steps closer, reaching a hand up and lovingly patting his cheek. “Well, alright then. I best go make sure everything is ready for the future duchess.”
Everything seems to happen in a whirlwind after that. His mother vanishes back out the drawing room door, and his father helps him to ready a carriage. Then, Lucien is off back to the Archeron manor. The footmen work to load all of Elain’s trunks and bags onto the carriage while Elain takes the time to hug her younger sister goodbye.
When everything’s secured, he holds out his hand, Elain’s fingers curling around his palm as he helps her into the carriage. He slips into the carriage as well, closing the door behind them and signaling out the window to the driver. The carriage jerks forward, and Lucien turns his eyes back on Elain, watching as she curls and twists her fingers through the fabric of her skirts. He reaches across the carriage, capturing Elain’s hands in his own, squeezing and tracing his thumbs across her knuckles soothingly.
“What if your parents hate me?” Elain whispers, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
“That’s impossible,” Lucien assures her, moving to wedge into the space beside Elain. “They will love you as much as I do.” He reaches forward, pressing his palm against her stomach. “Love both of you as much as I already do.”
Elain reaches her own hand down, covering Lucien’s and lacing their fingers together. “I overheard some of the other ladies talking at the market. Apparently, even if you miss your monthlies, it’s still possible it will merely come late.”
“Then we will just have to try again,” Lucien explains, moving his free hand up so that his fingers curl around the nape of Elain’s neck, his thumb tilting her chin up. “And again.” He brings her mouth to his, kissing her. “And again.”
When Elain pulls back, her lips are parted, eyes slightly glazed over before she blinks and comes back to herself. “You truly are a scoundrel.”
“Get used to it, my love.”
“People will talk, you know,” Elain sighs softly, fiddling with the laces of his shirt like some sort of nervous tick. “I’m sure the whole ton will have something to say about… the speed of everything.”
“Let them. Let them be green with envy over my beautiful wife.”
Lucien pulls Elain into another kiss, all but hauling her against his body. He presses her back against the walls of the carriage, until she’s laughing breathlessly into his mouth. It’s his favorite sound, one he much prefers to her worrying. He pulls back but doesn’t go far, settling his forehead against Elain’s. Even in the low light, it gives him the perfect opportunity to count every eyelash where they kiss her skin, to count every freckle dotted across her cheeks. She reaches a hand up between them, fingers gently tucking the strands of his hair behind his ear.
“Lucien Spellcleaver, you are something else.”
“And you are everything, Elain Spellcleaver.”
—
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#elucien#sjmromanceweek#elain archeron#lucien vanserra#pro elucien#elucien fanfiction#elucien fic#elain x lucien#acotar#my fic
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As the Sun Sets // Misunderstanding // Part Nine
TW: Name calling?
Theos POV:
The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement. Banners hang from the ceiling in green and silver and in blue and bronze. The first quidditch game of the school year, and the last. Dumbledor has called for a half day due to the excitement of today, though I am feeling anything but.
I have been trying my hardest to avoid Scarlet. Watching her run to Adrian that day, after the horrid things he has done to her. Hearing him tell her it was him or me, cemented the fear in my brain that I will never be enough for her.
The mere thought that she has chosen him over me sent me spiraling into a sea of disappear. My fathers voice rings loudly in my head. My deepest fears of never being enough, losing my best friend have come true. That night I vowed I would leave her be, and let her be happy. Even if it was with that bloody git and not with me. She deserves the world. She deserves to be happy.
Blaise and I had one more practice early this morning, causing us to be late to breakfast. We make our way to our spot at the end of the long table, I hear her laugh first. That angelic sound that sends heat pooling throughout my body. Her laughter fills my body with happiness and anguish all at the same time.
Pansy and Scarlet are wearing their Slytherin house pride gear. Their outfits consisted of green and silver dots placed strategically around their eyes. Pansy is wearing Blaise's spare jersey, while Scarlet is wearing Draco's jersey from last year. Her hair is pulled half up and tied with a silk green bow, as her curls loosely cascade down her back. She looks absolutely beautiful.
I ignore the pang of sadness in my chest as the sight of her as I swallow my feelings and walk over to the group with a plastered look of indifference.
“There you boys are. I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up.” Pansy states, picking at her eggs. “Are you two big manly men ready to kick some Ravenclaw arse?”
“This is stupid.” I take a seat next to Pansy, so I don't have to look at Scarlet. “We have bigger things to worry about then some bloody Quidditch match.” I grumble under my breath, pouring myself some tea to keep my hands from fidgeting.
Pansy smacks my shoulder as I take a sip of my tea, spilling it on the table below me. “What the hell Pans?” I shout, as I clean the mess she caused me to make.
“She's right. We need to act normal. Which means going to the game. Act excited, like we always are.” I hear the silky voice of Scarlet from next to our raven haired friend. Even though I can't see her, I can just imagine the sorrowful face she is making. She has been making it alot lately.
Pansy hums in agreement. “So, that means me and Scarlet will be in the stands as always. Though, this time Draco will be with us.”
“Whatever.” I mumble under my breath getting up from my seat. Ignoring the scoffs and attitude from the group. They can all sit around and pretend like nothing is happening but I can't. The anxiety I feel for my two best friends -- two people who I care the most about in the world are going to be in danger and I am told I can't do anything to help. The feeling of uselessness is suffocating.
I look around and spot Padma, walking over to her, I tap her shoulder. “Hello, Padma. Beautiful day for a walk isnt it?” This has been our code word over the last two years. If we ever need a distraction, we will ask the other about taking a walk. Whether it be tired of studying, parents on our arse, or just plain horny.
Padma turns around with a smile on her face. “It is Theodore. Shall we?” I extend my hand out for her as she grasps it, excused herself from her friends and we walk side by side to my dorm. Since everyone is out at breakfast the room should be empty.
As we make our way out my eyes wander around the room and meet with Scarlet's green ones, though they are foggy with occlusion. Sadness envelops me as I force myself to look away.
“So, what is with the doom and gloom Theodore? It's the first game of the year, you should be bubbling with excitement.” Padmas voice drags me away from my thoughts of Scarlet. I don't know what to tell her. How to explain the storm that is raging on within my head and my heart, So I tell her the truth.
“Adrian gave her an ultimatum. Him or me.” I cough to cover the cracking within my voice, giving away the sadness that I truly feel.
“I see.’ Is all she responds with, as we continue to walk in silence to my dorm.
Padma takes a seat on my bed, sitting against the headboard. I drag my legs to move me to the edge of the bed. Staring off into space in front of me, losing the interest of the distraction beside me.
After a couple of minutes of silence, I feel her move closer to me. Placing a gentle hand on my back. There is no sexual intention in this act. It's friendly. Sympathetic.
Padma speaks up. “Theodore--” Her voice low in a soothing tone. “Dont.” I interrupt. “Do not give me some bloody speech about how I should tell her how I feel. I've gotten that enough from the rest of them.”
She huffs but doesn't remove her hand. No, she's now rubbing my back, slowly. “Fine. I won't. “ Moments of silence. I should be getting ready for the game, but this heavy feeling in my chest just won't go away. Padma stands up, and I suspect that she is taking her leave but she turns to face me.
Her tone has shifted from sympathetic to one of annoyance. “What are you so scared of, Theodore? That she doesn't feel the same? Or that she does?”
I clenched my fists so hard I feel as if I will start bleeding. “Both.”
“She’s your best friend Theodore, you love her.” Padma said softly, sensing my anger from the conversation. “You’re in love with her.”
Of course I love her. How could I not.
“Your silence speaks volumes.” She states, with her arms crossed. I still don't respond. I just keep my head down. Ignoring the cowardice that I feel.
“Theodore,” Padma whispered as she stalked closer, once again placing a hand upon my shoulder. “You can’t keep avoiding her forever. You’re not only hurting yourself, but you're hurting her as well.”
I turn away, tensing my shoulders. “I know. But what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins our friendship?”
“What if she does?” Padma countered with a small smile. “What if she’s waiting for you to take that leap? I don’t know Scarlet very well, but you do. Could you think of any reason she would have not to put herself out there?”
My eyes met hers, vulnerability shining through. Of course. Scarlet has always hidden her feelings. She always puts others before herself. In her head, making sure everyone else is happy is what's most important. “I can’t lose her, Padma. I need her in my life.”
I heave a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of my words on my chest. “Maybe this is just all we will ever be.”
“Love is a risk, Theodore.” Padma said. “But so is regret.”
She stepped back from me, turning towards the door. “Tell her, Theodore. Tell her how you feel. Life is too short for unspoken words. You never know what may happen.” With that, she leaves me alone with my thoughts. Thoughts of what a life with Scarlet being more than just my friend could mean.
Fuck, what I would give to be more than friends with her.
——————————————————————————————————
I talk the long route to the quidditch pitch. Padmas' words rung in my head on a loop. “What if she does?” “Love is a risk, but so is regret.” Is it possible that the girl I have been in love with for years feels the same way? Scarlet Johnson.
The girl who I have spent everyday for 5 years admiring? The girl who learned how to brew Blood-Replenishing potion, Murtlap Essence and Essence of Dittany in order to heal me after trips home to see my father. Who will stay up late with me to discuss the magical theory of potions, or will help dissect the ingredients of a potion piece by piece to figure out where I went wrong. The girl who will put everyone's needs in front of her own, if it means they will be happy and safe.
Could she possibly love me too?
I sure as fuck hope so.
——————————————————————————————————
“Nott, I want you to keep an eye on Cho.” The git's voice brings me out of my thoughts as I look in his direction. He still has bruises around his left eye and along his jaw. A sense of pride surges through me knowing that I am the one causing the bloody arse pain.
“Cho? You want me to follow the seeker around all match?” I know he is just doing this as a way to get back at me for beating the piss out of him.
“Yes, Nott. Do you have a problem with that?” He flashes me a cocky smile. Whoever voted for this git to be captain must have been drunk off Ogdens. “Whatever.” I grumble, as he gives the rest of the team a play by play.
I am the lone survivor in the locker room, when suddenly Adrian crashes into me, a malicious smirk on his face. "Enjoying my sloppy seconds, Nott?" he sneers, "She loves it rough, especially when you yank her hair. She's always been a masochistic slut."
My blood boils as I hear him speak, but before I can react, Blaise restrains me with a firm grip. "He's not worth it," he says in a pleading tone. I shake off Blaise's hold and seethe with anger. "I can't keep watching him treat her like utter garbage. She deserves so much better."
Blaise looks at me with a mix of confusion and concern. "Yes, she does deserve better, but resorting to violence won't solve anything."
I roll my eyes, knowing that Blaise will do anything to prevent Draco and I from getting into another brawl. "It's not just about her anymore. They're not even together." My shock is palpable. "W-what? What do you mean?"
In that moment Blaise drops a bombshell on me; "She chose you, mate," Blaise declares with a hint of admiration in his voice. “How'd you not know? He hasn't been around since that day. Scar has been an utter mess--” He pauses looking at me with a sense of pity. “You haven't been around much now that I think of it…”
Scarlet and Adrian broke up. She chose me. Scarlet Johnson chose me and I have been ignoring her. My body is fighting with itself. To be overjoyed or to feel regret and disdain for myself for being a bloody wanker for the past week.
“I have to find her.” I shoot out quickly. I must apologize. I need to see her.
“We have a game mate. Find her after. You know where she'll be.” Blaise gives me a sly smile and pats me on the back pushing me towards the door that leads to the pitch.
“I'm going to tell her. I'm going to tell Scarlet Johnson that I love her.”
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#theodore nott#theodore nott fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#theodore nott imagine#ao3#Theodore Nott#Theodore Nott Fluff#Theodore Not fic#theodore nott fic#Theodore Nott FanFiction#hp fandom#hp fanfic#wanna be writer#writer on ao3#fanfic writing#writer on wattpad#wattpad#slytherin gang#blaise zabini#draco malfoy#OG Lestrange#theo nott fanfiction
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“I Don’t Hate You Like I Hate Myself” (Bucky x reader)
“I don’t hate you like I hate myself”
Bucky x reader
Word count: 4224
Warnings: eating disorder/bulimia, self hate
Summary: Reader suffers from an eating disorder and Bucky finds her purging one night.
A/N: Sorry it’s been so long, I really am. It’s been a hell of a few months. Still working through it and writing has been helping me. I hope you are all doing well, reach out to me if you need me, and of course, if this in ANY WAY may harm your journey, feel free to skip <3
------------------------
“Goodnight guys” you said, a slight laugh in your voice. You stood up with your empty plate and placed it in the sink. There were a few groans around the table.
“But it’s so early,” Tony said, the others nodding in agreement
You looked at the watch on your wrist. “It’s 8 pm, Tony.”
“Exactly!” Thor said, shaking his head as if it were obvious.
You shook your head at them. “Goodnight everyone,” you said, turning around and walking up the stairs.
As soon as you were out of sight, you let out a breath of relief and dropped the smile. You rubbed your face in exhaustion and closed your eyes a little, feeling heavier with each step. Truth be told, you were exhausted. But you still had something else you had to do.
You pick up the pace walking to your room, thoughts spiraling faster as you closed the door and locked it. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn on soundproofing.” you said.
“As you wish, y/n.” the A.I. responded.
You sighed, and went into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you. You knew no one would come in, but it was a force of habit by now. You tied your hair back and filled a hidden water bottle with tap water before chugging it, and then lifted the toilet seat. ‘Damn family dinners,’ you thought to yourself. You took a deep breath as you leaned over the toilet, pushing one hand into your stomach and used the other to stick 3 fingers down your throat. After a few small gags, you started choking up your dinner as well.
You had tears streaming down your face, not necessarily from sadness but from exertion. You coughed after one particular gag, until eventually nothing more came up. You placed your hands on either side of the toilet to steady yourself, back heaving up and down as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart raced and your head pounded, so you tightly shut your eyes and shook your head slightly.
You stood in front of the mirror, sideways. You lifted your shirt and sucked in your stomach as much as you could. It was flat.
‘That’s much better,’ you thought to yourself. You flushed the toilet and turned on the shower. You became emotionless, running through the routine you always did. Wash your hands, cold water to the face, spray the air freshener, and take a shower to wash away the shame.
You didn’t want to do this to yourself. You just didn't know what else to do.
You thought it was just about the food. It was just about the way you looked, the size of your clothes, the number on the scale. That was all it was supposed to be. How did it grow to be so much more?
Every time was supposed to be the last time. You never meant to do it. But any time you ate anything, you just felt sick to your stomach. At first it was with shame and anxiety - now it was a physical nausea that overtook you. You thought this would make it easy to eat less, and it did.
Until you felt sad
Or mad
Or stressed
Or a mission went slightly wrong
Or you began overthinking the smallest things
And whenever you felt anything negative you just needed to replace that with something else. A distraction, something to numb you out. To make you feel less than this overwhelming, crushing emotion. You needed to get it out.
So you ate.
And then you threw it all up with all of your emotions, until you were left in a quiet bliss
You knew, logically, as a human, that you needed to eat. But it always felt wrong. Like it wasn’t for you, like you were weak for eating. You weren’t naive, you knew the side effects of bulimia. You had begun to experience a few of them - dizziness mainly. But it hadn’t become an issue yet. It didn’t interfere with your work, therefore, it wasn’t a problem. No one had caught on aside from a few minorly concerned looks. Not that you would ever let anyone in.
It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the team, God no. You loved them and would trust them with anything other than your mind. No, it was more of an embarrassed sickening feeling you got. You didn’t know what to say, there was no reasonable explanation for this. Hell, you didn’t even quite know why you did what you were doing. It was easier this way, simpler.
It was your problem to fight. Not theirs. You knew your limits.
With a sigh, you turn off the shower water, stepping out and wrapping a towel lazily around yourself. You kept your eyes from the mirror as you stepped into your room and over to your dresser to put on some pajamas. Sweatpants and a tank top. You sat on your bed and flopped back, rubbing your hands over your face.
Another day done. Countless more to go.
You looked at your phone to check any notifications. Aside from a few news updates, there were 2 texts from Bucky:
‘You okay?’ received 42 minutes ago
‘If you’re not you know where I am. Sleep well’ received 38 minutes ago.
You smiled a little. You were all a family, you and the team. Bucky and you seemed to bond in the way that introverts tend to. The way that brings out the extrovert in the other. The way that hanging out didn’t have to mean you spoke because you both found comfort in the silence. You grew the closest with him, often checking in with each other. If he had a nightmare, he came to you. Or you went to him, depending on how bad it was. You would talk to him about small matters, but you would never think of telling him about any of this.
You shuddered at the thought. No one could ever know about this.
You closed your phone after deciding it was best not to respond. It had been too much time since he had sent the messages, and if you sent something now he might wonder what you had been doing for almost 45 minutes. Best to not reply until morning, blaming it on the exhaustion that never left your body.
You placed your phone on your nightstand and rolled over, shutting your eyes and willing sleep to come easily. Over time you began sleeping less and less, and now it was a miracle if you were able to at all. Maybe it was the hunger pains, or the reflux, or this overwhelming fear that something bad was going to happen. The stress of being an Avenger, of keeping up your act, of being perfect all the time.
It was exhausting. But not in the way that sleep would ever be able to fix.
No, this was a type of tiredness that kept you awake. You had to stay alert all the time. Sleep wasn’t restful or enjoyable anymore. It was elusive. You needed a break from your life. Sleep wouldn’t ever be able to provide that. Not when you would be waking up to deal with it all over again.
You sighed. You hated this. You hated what you were doing, you hated that you couldn’t stop. You hated that you couldn’t tell anyone about it. Not because you didn’t trust them, but because you didn’t know if you wanted to stop. And if you let them in, you didn’t want to be letting them down by slipping up. And you wanted to stop but...you didn’t know how. You didn’t feel good enough, you didn’t feel like you deserved it. And nothing else could make you feel better like this could
You hated yourself. You hated yourself in a way that no one else ever could. In a way that made you wonder if you would ever be able to love yourself with the innocence you once did.
You turned over again, willing your racing thoughts to slow to a steady jog at least. You took deep breaths, still trying to calm your pounding heart from earlier. As you started to relax a little, feeling closer to sleep, you remembered one last thing you had to do.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn soundproofing off,” you said softly.
“Of course, Y/N,” the A.I. responded.
And with that, you drifted off.
-----
You were rudely awakened by a few sharp knocks at your door. You startled awake and sat up quickly, only to be greeted by a huge headrush. “One minute,” you called out groggily, rubbing your eyes and standing up. Once again, your vision began to black out but you ignored it. You were used to it at this point. It always went away eventually. You pulled over a cardigan and padded over to the door, opening it.
You opened the door to a very much awake Bucky, who seemed to have just gotten back from a run. You weakly smiled, hoping you didn’t look as tired as you felt. Unfortunately, you don’t think that was the case, seeing as Bucky’s smile almost immediately faltered as he took in your tired face. Dark circles under your eyes and a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.
“Yes, Buck?” you asked, pulling him out of his concerned stare.
“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. He knew what being tired felt like, but he had never seen it to this extent on anyone aside from him. He knew you had been tired lately, going to bed early, waking up late, yet seeming to grow more tired by the day.
You sighed and rubbed your eyes a little. “Yeah, I’m good. Just trying to wake up a little.” you said with a little laugh, dismissive.
Bucky worried about you. He felt close to you but he worried that you didn’t feel close to him. He could always count on you to be someone he could turn to. But no matter how hard he tried, you didn’t seem comfortable opening up to him. He knew it would take time and he didn’t take it personally. He just wanted to be able to be there for you the way that you were there for him. He knew something had been bothering you, he just didn’t know how to approach it.
He looked into your eyes. “You sure about that?” he asked.
You mustered the best smile you could. “Yes, I am fine. Just -”
“Tired. I know what that’s like,” he said with a slight laugh. “You know that you don’t have to be fine right?” he said reassuringly. It had become his line with you, to make sure that you knew he was there if you wanted to open up. And while you found it very sweet, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You wanted to trust him, and you hated making him feel like you didn��t trust him. You just didn’t know how.
Instead you opted for a nod with a small laugh, desperate to get as far away from this conversation as possible. “I swear, I’m fine,” you said a little more strongly this time.
Bucky nodded, unconvinced but willing to drop it. If you weren’t ready to talk about it, that was okay. For now. “Do you want to come down and get some breakfast? I think Sam and Clint were making a ton of food for everyone.
You ran through your options. If you didn’t go down, people would be suspicious. If you did, you would have to eat and find time to get rid of it after, plus deal with the banter of the team for leaving so early. You weren’t supposed to eat yet, it was far too early. But Bucky was already suspicious, so it would be best if you just went down and got rid of it later. All of this ran through your mind in a second before you said:
“Yeah, sure, I’ll be down in a few minutes,” to which Buck turned around and you closed the door.
After a few seconds you closed your eyes and sighed heavily, resting your head against the door. You cursed yourself internally for agreeing but knew it was the option that raised the least suspicion. You went into the bathroom to wash your face quickly and before you knew it you were studying your body. Turning around, looking at yourself from every possible angle. It happened every time. Coming back to reality, you dressed quickly in some baggy clothes before taking a deep breath and heading down to the kitchen area.
You were greeted with the smell of all things breakfast, and when you walked in you saw loads of everything there could possibly be. They really went all out. Which made you even more nervous: you didn’t want to seem ungrateful or hurt their feelings.
You had stopped at the door, and Tony was the first to see you.
“Morning Sleeping Beauty,” he said, bringing the small conversation to a stop for a moment while everyone recognized your appearance. You gave a small wave and a smile before coming in and sitting down. You tried your best to not show your anxiety or exhaustion. There was so much food, and you didn’t want to offend people by not eating but you didn’t know if you would be able to stop once you started.
Everyone was sitting around the table making small conversation and starting to eat. You were taking deep breaths as nonchalantly as you could. You grabbed a few things to put on your plate, trying to keep a steady hand. You didn’t want to draw any attention to yourself. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem - you’d have a few days of no one noticing you skipping meals, then have dinner all together before you all parted ways. You could prepare for that. But breakfast the morning after was sprung on you, and you didn’t think you should be eating in this small of a time window.
You tried to join in on the conversation, pushing things around on your plate as you did so. You thought you were hiding it well, but from across the table you caught Bucky glancing your way with concern. So you started eating more.
It was delicious, you couldn’t deny that. You soon cleaned your plate and began filling it back up with more this time. You could feel your stomach expanding and your heart rate was picking up. As you finished your second plate of food, you felt the anxiety set in. You tried to remind yourself that it was a normal amount, and that you hadn’t been eating enough for a normal person. Eating was normal. Eating was normal.
But you weren’t normal.
“Well, this has been great, and thank you Sam and Clint, but I think I’m going to go lie down,” you interjected into the conversation, pushing your chair out.
“Leaving again so early?” Tony asked, not unkindly. You looked around the table before landing eyes on Bucky, concern filling his face.
You swallowed nervously before saying. “Yeah, sorry guys. See you in a bit!” you added and hoped you didn’t sound as desperate as you felt to leave the room. You turned around and walked towards the door, conversation picking back up while Bucky watched you leave. Something didn’t sit right with him.
After you had gotten around the corner you picked up the pace, resisting breaking into a jog. You made it to your room, heart pounding in your chest and nearly threw yourself in, closing the door and turning to the bathroom. You closed that door too, locking it as a force of habit. You were usually methodical about this process, you had a system. But you were desperate at this point. You tied your hair up messily and filled up a hidden water bottle at the sink before chugging it and turning to the toilet.
Back in the kitchen, Bucky decided that he was going to go check on you. He excused himself and thanked Sam and Clint for the food before heading in the direction of your room.
You were bent over the toilet retching. You hated this so much. It hurt, it didn’t feel good, but you felt so relieved doing it. You couldn’t explain it. You didn’t like doing it, but it somehow was the one thing that helped you feel better.
What you didn’t realize was that you hadn’t locked your room door. Nor did you turn on the soundproofing feature of your room.
Bucky knocked on your room door, to which he was met with silence. You simply didn’t hear him. Not liking the feeling in his stomach, he let himself in. To his surprise, you weren’t there. But then he heard you retching.
He furrowed his brows. Why hadn’t you said you were sick? Closing the door behind him, he walked over to the bathroom door before knocking. And you froze.
“Are you okay in there?” you heard him ask.
Shit.
You swallowed before responding with “Yeah, I’m fine.” You cursed yourself for the weakness and wavering in your voice. You quickly flushed the toilet and turned to the mirror. You were a mess, red face and tear-streaked face. You washed your hands and then your face, trying to get rid of as much inflammation as you could.
You took a deep breath and leaned against the sink. How could you have forgotten the most important parts of your process? How could you have been so stupid? How were you going to talk yourself out of this?
“Y/n?”
You opened the door with your head down as you tried to walk around Bucky. But he gently stood in front of you before guiding your face to his, his eyes widening at your red eyes and face.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?” he asked.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
“You’re not fine if you’re throwing up. I swear, if Sam made something that made you sick -”
“It’s not like that” you interrupted.
Bucky paused for a moment. “What do you mean it’s not like that?”
You clenched your jaw and looked away, backing up a little. “Nevermind.”
Bucky stood in front of you again, a little more insistent now. “No, what do you mean? Are you sick?”
“Buck-”
“Y/n.” he insisted.
You took a deep breath. “I throw up sometimes,” you said quietly, but loud enough for Bucky to hear it. He shifted on his feet. “What do you mean?”
You looked at him sadly, shaking your head. “It won’t make sense,” you said.
“Then help me understand,” he said.
You took a few breaths before trying to piece it together. “I don’t know what happened. I was just supposed to lose a few pounds. And sometimes I would eat too much, and throwing up made me feel better. And now I can’t stop. It was just supposed to be about losing weight but now I can’t stop,” you finished before finally looking him in the eye again.
Bucky’s face contorted to one of more concern. Your eyes filled with tears at finally revealing your secret. Bucky came closer to you and pulled you into a hug as you sobs started wracking your body. Bucky held you tightly, whispering that it was okay. He breathed deeply and steadily, hoping you would be able to fall in rhythm with him.
You were able to start breathing with him and calming down. After a few moments of silence, Bucky asked “How long has this been going on?”
You shook your head. “I don’t even know.” you said, defeated.
Bucky took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
You shrugged weakly. “It wasn’t your problem.” you said.
“I want to help, y/n,” he said, pulling away to look at you. “You always help me or anyone else on the team whenever we need it. If we were going through this wouldn’t you want to help us?”
“Of course I would,” you said firmly, tears building up.
“Then why can’t you let me help you the way you help me?” he asked.
You shook your head lightly. “It’s not that simple, Buck.”
He looked at you, confused. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not like that,” you said a little louder, turning around. You could feel yourself beginning to break.
“What’s the difference between me and you? Why can’t-”
“Because I don’t HATE you!” you exclaimed, turning around with pain in your eyes. “It’s not the same thing because I don’t hate you. I want to help you, because you are a good person, and I like you. I don’t like myself. I deserve this so I’ve accepted that this is what I need to do. I don’t care if it hurts me, because I don’t care about myself!” you yelled, tears streaming down your face again and breathing heavily. “That’s the fucking difference.”
Bucky looked at you sadly. “Is that really how you feel about yourself?” he asked, saddened even more when you began nodding. “What did you do that was so wrong?”
You shook your head, anger calming down into sadness. “I don’t know. I never liked myself. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere, and I never have. And I’ve accepted that I may never feel like I will. This isn’t the kind of sick I know how to heal. People catch a cold or break a bone and there are active steps to fix it and a set timeline before it gets better. And it won’t bother them again. But this,” you tap both sides of your head repeatedly, “this I can’t fix. I don’t know how, I don’t know where to start. I’ve tried but it never really goes away. There’s no medicine or action or rest period or any kind of shit like that. It’s me against me. I’m always gonna lose this battle. I’m not the kind of sick that can get better, Buck,” you shrugged slightly and shook your head. “Not for me.”
Bucky’s face saddened even more, knowing all too well the feeling of not belonging. He knew the pain of self doubt and self hate, and feeling like you were a bad person. But he had done so many things as the winter soldier, how he killed so many innocent lives. You were one of the kindest people Bucky knew. He didn’t understand how you could feel this way.
Bucky started walking closer to you slowly. “Y/n...I know what that feeling is like. You know that. But I don’t understand why you would feel that way about yourself.” he was now standing in front of you. “You’re one of the most generous people I know, you’ve helped me so much. I know you’ve helped everyone here. No one here hates you, y/n.”
“I know,” you said. Before Bucky could respond you continued, “I know there’s no reason for me to feel this way. I know logically I didn’t do anything wrong. But it’s just this...this thing in my head. And it never goes away. And I know all it tells me is lies but the only way I can make it stop is by throwing up. I know it’s messed up, I just can’t make it stop,” you said, looking down again.
Bucky guided your face back to meet his. “Can I try to help? You can always talk to me about anything, you know that right?”
You breathed out. “I don’t know,” you said truthfully.
Bucky noticeably stiffened, and you quickly added, “It’s not that I don’t trust you. Not at all, I do, it’s just that I don’t want to disappoint you.” you said. “I don’t want to fuck up and hurt you because I couldn’t be strong. I don’t want to bother you every goddamn day with this petty bullshit I have going on.” you took a deep breath and looked away again. “I don’t want you to leave out of frustration that I couldn’t be strong for you.”
“Is that really what you think I would do?” he asked. When you nodded, he went on. “I would never be disappointed at you trying your best. It’s okay to mess up, to have bad days, it’s not going to be perfect. Life can be a little fucked up sometimes, but what I’ve learned is that the hardest way through it is alone.” he said with emphasis, knowing all too well the pain of keeping your emotions in.
You leaned into him again, his arms wrapping you into a hug. “Promise you won’t leave?” you asked softly.”
His arms tightened around you. “I’m not going anywhere.”
#marvel#MCU#mcu fanfiction#mcu imagine#Bucky Barnes#buckybarnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x y/n#bucky imagine#bucky#tw eating disorder#tw bulimia#tw insecurity#fanfiction#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#comfort#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barns x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barns x y/n#bucky barnes comfort#comfort fanfic
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Denki Kaminari Self Harm Comfort
Hello lovelies! this is the second MHA Characters Self Harm Comfort fic I've made, and this one is about your boy Denki! I hope you enjoy, and TW/disclaimer this does mention c*tting and if that triggers you please do not read, I want you all to be safe. I also do not want any of you to cut I simply write this as a substitute/replacement for actually hurting yourself.
Please stay safe and enjoy the fic!
Denki, was typically oblivious, to say the least, but even he noticed how you seemed more reclusive, opting out of most of the Baku-squad's antics.
All of them worried by this they decided to call a squad meeting.
The whole squad debated how to discreetly check in on you, with even Bakugo voicing some concerns about your new behavior.
They decided they would have a squad sleepover that weekend. Promising Aizawa this wouldn't affect how well they did in class, Though he only allowed it upon seeing their obvious stress over his answer.
Mina and Denki went to tell you about the arrangements, seeing how Mina could bribe you with your favorite snacks and how Denki knew how to persuade you, as he spent the most time with you, and had probably gotten the closest to you of all your friends.
As the last class of the day ended, you saw the two approaching. Yet your attempt to pack up your stuff and leave before they could come over was quickly ended when your pencil pouch fell out of your bag, its contents spilling everywhere.
Needless to say, they helped you gather your things and told you about the mandatory hangout. Then leaving with a hug before you could answer.
-Day of the hangout-
You could never bring yourself to admire the work though, it was never enough. You could get lost in thought staring at the blood, losing hours and it only felt like minutes, making it oh so easy to lose track of time.
The whole Baku-squad sat in Mina's dorm. Anyone could feel the uneasy tension as the squad sat with the T.V. on in the background. No one really watching.
"They must have just forgotten.. right?" Said Kiri voicing everyone's question. The underlying question much heavier, the question of if you were actively and knowingly ignoring them.
Denki glanced up, still fiddling with his Pikachu onesie "Yeah... um, should I go get them?"
"Of course dunce face! Your the closest to them!" Bakugo growled. The feral Pomeranian.
Slowly he stood up, knocking the chips off his lap, and walked towards the door. Uncertain of why he felt so nervous, you were his friend right?
With as much enthusiasm as he could, he knocked on your door. Scaring you half to death, and attempting to hide any trace of blood.
"Dude you forgot about our hangout! The squad sent me to get you, also remember it's onesies night!"
"Oh yeah..." you trailed off, too busy trying to hide your stuff to remember to tell him not to come in, so he opened the door.
You looked very suspicious, just standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, but with no obvious answer to what you had been doing minutes before.
Brushing it off, he took in your outfit, a simple sweatpants and hoodie. "Welp guess you have to go without the onesie." Denki sighed dramatically.
You giggled uncomfortably "... maybe I shouldn't go.. I have homework and...stuff."
Denki was not having it, somehow crossing the space in seconds and swooping you up bridal style in his arms with surprising ease. "No can do sunshine, Bakugo would kill both of us if I didn't return with you."
Unfortunately for you your band-aids weren't well applied and were leaking through onto Denki’s hand, which was angled just right to feel the blood seeping through the sweatshirt.
“Y/n? What's this” He whispered, looking at his bloody hand.
Denki turned around, back into your room, and sat you on the bed
You hung your head in shame, looking desperately to the still-open door.
Denki walked over to the light switch by the said door, so he could better see what had happened to you. Spotting the opportunity that his distraction gave, you dashed out of the room.
Him quick on your heels after realizing your movement.
You were quick, but not quite quick enough, as he manages to catch up and grabbed you from behind, pulling you into an embrace so you couldn't escape.
Silently picking you up and holding you as tightly to him as he could he walked back to your room, clutching you as if he were holding onto life itself.
This time he locked the door as he entered back into your room, still holding you as he sat on the bed and texted the Bakusquad you two would be a minute.
Placing the phone back down he buried his face into your hair and whispered a small "what happened...."
All your bottled-up emotions and pain began to spill out, filling the silence with memories of depressive spirals, panic attacks, and the overwhelming loneliness you felt having to bear all the emotions yourself.
For once Denki didn't make stupid jokes or tease, he just listened.
Grabbing some bandages from the nearby nightstand, he winced as looked at the newly forming scabs and the mix of fresh and dry blood. Not knowing how to properly bandage you up, he did his best.
You continued to vent till you felt exhausted, abruptly finishing off a sentence and just snuggling into Denki. He looked at you with a sadness you almost mistook for pity before he said "You know... you know I love you and if you ever, EVER are feeling like this please come talk to me... I know it's cheesy but you are never a burden and I just... want to be there for my little spark as you have been for me and so many others... I never want anything as electrifying as you to hurt"
You chuckled weakly at his attempt at a pun, even in such a grim situation.
"Let's go to the sleepover, you need all the love and support you and get and we can give you all the cuddles you want. You just... need to be out of this...sad... place for a bit ok?"
You nodded sleepily, letting out all those pent-up emotions taking a toll on you mentally and physically.
Arriving in Mina's dorm, you happily were laid on the bed of pillows by the electric boy. Denki shooting a look of 'be gentle they have been through a lot' and whispering something to the angry blond, who looked stunned and worried and left the room.
Too sleepy to care, you embraced the warmth of all the people snuggling you.
Later, a worried Aizawa peered into the room and gave a somewhat sad smile at the sight. Bakugo had already cleared your room of anything dangerous and was now cuddling you too along with all of the bakusquad.
"Take care of them problem children..."
#tw depression#denki comfort#kaminari comfort#mha kaminari#sad reader x denki#denki x sad reader#tw selfhate#tw slfhrm#tw self loathing#tw intrusive thoughts#kaminari x reader#denki x reader
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I'm OBSESSED with your writing. Can you try.. Maybe, Donnie being a filthy boy being an 'stalker-ish' of his long time crush? Be checks their FB for new posts, saves every picture of them he finds? He doesn't mean to be a creep, feels guilty, but just doesn't know how to ask for more than friendship?
Good afternoon Anon. Here is my short story in relation to your ask.
I wasn't sure where you wanted me to take this, so I had to do a bit of guessing on my part. I hope this something like you were wanting.
I will admit that this ask was a bit of a struggle for me, not knowing a clear direction to take it outcome made me a little unsure of my writing and guessing abilities LOL. However, I will admit to crying along with the characters in this story more than once.
Thanks again for the ask and the initial compliment. I hope to continue to earn your favor in future posts.
· Stalker [noun]: 1a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention. 2a person who hunts game stealthily.
· Donnie stared at the definition on his one of his monitor screens while his various other screens were busy flashing receipts of files downloaded, text trail streams from your phone, notices of any social media post/update/like/heart/emoji, a GPS line grid of your routes today (overlayed over the routes you’d taken previously), and data search hits of anything and everything that pertained to you.
· At this point, the boy had literally every picture you had ever posted, anywhere, of yourself. In fact, he had all the pictures that other people posted of you in them. He had even gone through the effort of designing a face recognition program that picks you out of the background of total strangers’ pictures and, yeah, he had those in a file too.
· He has special file folders that compile things that you like, things you don’t like, things that make you happy, things that make you sad. He is your own personal Pinterest and you didn’t even know it… and maybe that is the part that keeps bothering him so much.
· He sits staring at that word and definition and chewing his bottom lip. True, he knows the word and the meaning, but he needed to LOOK at it, analyze it, mull it over in his guilt ridden brain.
· He just KNEW the word Stalker couldn’t apply to him.
· After all, he isn’t harassing or persecuting you, you don’t know! So, it isn’t necessarily ‘unwanted attention’. It is just…unknown attention.
· Stealthily, hmmmm, did that part apply to him? Well, He isn’t EXACTLY being stealthy.
· If you knew about technology like him, then you would probably see his programs running on your devices and be alerted to his activities. AND, if you shared his love and view of technology, then you would probably be more understanding of his activities and not consider them stealthy…just data mining. In fact, you might applaud him.
· ‘Ok, that was taking it a bit too far’, Donnie thinks to himself and he feels a band tighten and squeeze around his infatuated heart.
· He is almost certain that you would be shocked to learn of his extra curricular activities and how they revolve around every aspect of you.
· Regardless of how he tried to spin the truth and wiggle out of the definition of stalker, Donnie still felt guilty for invading your privacy. However, he honestly couldn’t help himself…at least not anymore.
· He has fought the urge, the nagging thoughts and the burning need, to know more about you for what seemed like an eternity.
· Listen to him, he is starting to sound dramatic like Mikey! What is his turning into? He is losing his rational edge!
· To be accurate, it hasn’t been an eternity. In fact, he has known you 1 year, 36 days, 14 hours, 11 minutes, and 23 seconds to be exact. However, you started occupying space in his mind 2 minutes into meeting you and your claim over his mind has grown exponentially over time.
· You were quiet and reserved during that first meeting, so there wasn’t much to go on. It started as a simple visual interest with a thought of ‘Oh. She’s pretty’.
· However, then you started talking and that changed everything.
· You opened up more and more each time you hung out with their little group, revealing layers and layers of interests and personality. You were fascinating…and that’s when his thoughts about you really started to snowball and spiral out of control.
· You went from being a simple pretty face to being a walking embodiment of everything he seriously ever dreamed of having in a mate.
· Early on, there were three sticking points that really made Donnie’s feelings problematic. 1. He was a nearly seven foot tall walking talking turtle and you weren’t. 2. You had a boyfriend that you were deeply in love with and adored. 3. Donnie was too insecure about #1 and how you felt about inter-species dating to let you know that you had started to OWN his heart.
· Now, thanks to his surveillance, there were only two sticking points….#1 and #3.
· He still remembers the feelings of that day, 44 days ago, when the blip of information popped up on this screen alerting him to the fact that your boyfriend was starting to stray.
· Donnie had severely conflicting feelings bombard him at once and it was overwhelming.
· The initial knee jerk reaction was elation, one of the problems blocking him from you may soon be null.
· However, the feeling of elation only lasted for a second or two before the intense anger and sadness set in. Donnie was honestly shocked at the depth of his anger, he didn’t even know he had that level of malice in him. Had he been in physical proximity to your boyfriend at that moment in time, Donnie isn’t sure that he wouldn’t have hurt your guy…or worse.
· How COULD this guy do this? WHY would he? He HAD YOU! What the heck was this guy thinking? Not only did he have you, but you thought the world of him. When you spoke about him you would smile so genuinely, your eyes would shine and gaze off into a bright imagined future. Donnie was always so jealous to watch it happen, he wondered what it would be like to be THAT GUY. And here the idiot was throwing it all away and meeting up with another girl!
· WHAT THE…(yes, this called for a curse) HELL…IS WRONG WITH HUMAN MEN?
· As the anger set root in his heart, the sadness engulfed Donnie like an all-consuming wave. He realized he was going to have to share this information with you, somehow, and that he was going to have to watch as it destroyed you.
· At first, Donnie had a plan to try and save you both from that fate. True, it would hurt him more to save your relationship, but he would rather be the one facing the pain and not you.
· He TRIED to circumvent the situation. He sent anonymous messages to your boyfriend stating that he knew about the infidelity and that he would tell you if needed. However, it didn’t seem like your boyfriend cared because he sent messages back stating Donnie could, basically, go fuck himself.
· Life had cruel sense of irony, thought Donnie, that is exactly what I do since this moron has the woman that I love.
· So, after trying for nearly two weeks to stop what was happening behind your back, Donnie had no choice but to let you in on the secret.
· Donnie couldn’t come right out and tell you that he caught your boyfriend cheating by hijacking your data streams and the data streams of those around you. So, Donnie intercepted some texts between your boyfriend and his mistress and he then sent you a text, under the guise of your boyfriend, telling you to meet him at a specified restaurant for a date.
· It had been a gut wrenching night for Donnie. He remembered watching it all play out on camera feeds from around the restaurant and street outside. He watched you dressed up in your pretty dress get out of your cab in front of the restaurant. You had such a lovely smile on your face, you must have thought you were in for a romantic evening.
· He watched as you walked inside and how the hostess got flustered and confused by a 2nd girl showing up for your boyfriend’s seated-for-two table.
· Donnie stopped breathing as your eyes found the new couple holding hands and giving each other sweet kisses across the table. Hands and lips that were supposed to be yours were touching some stranger.
· Donnie watched your smile and eyes die…the light of your inner sun go out…
· …and it killed him.
· He’s not sure who was crying the hardest, you standing there in that restaurant witnessing the scene or him back at the lair watching your world crush around you on his monitor.
· It had taken a while for you both to recover from that night.
· His brothers noticed his melancholy mood for a couple of weeks but Donnie wouldn’t tell them what was bothering him. And you stayed in your bed, refusing to face the world, for nearly as long.
· Eventually, the group began to notice your silence and absence, so April stopped by your apartment to check on you. She was the one to pull you out of bed, get you to shower and eat. She visited everyday and made sure you had someone to vent to and a shoulder to cry on.
· Donnie was glad that April could be there for you when he couldn’t. He didn’t think it was appropriate for him, a male, to be your confidant at that time. Especially since he felt so much guilt over having to be the one to expose you to that pain.
· No, he didn’t CAUSE the pain, but he did have to make you face it and he didn’t like not being able to protect you from it. You were such a rare, precious creature and watching you in pain felt like he was suffocating slowly.
· There were some points during those first few weeks that he questioned if he did the right thing, but logic told him it would have eventually come to pass with or without his involvement. It was better to rip the bandage of quickly and let you start to heal than it was to let you linger and drag out the inevitable.
· Donnie did secretly check on you every single night during patrol. And, of course, his surveillance feeds were always running. He watched from a distance as his beautiful phoenix burn down to ashes and, eventually, started to rise again.
· Now, it’s been over 3 months and you’ve begun to be more like your old self. Donnie can tell there is a silent sadness there, but you are able to laugh and smile with the group during your get togethers. And each time you two are left alone, his mind nags at him about those last two sticking points.
· Would you be at all interested in him? And HOW does he go about telling you that you have become the center of his world?
· Still staring at the monitor and the Stalker definition, Donnie sighs and rubs the bridge of his snout to release of the pressure now pushing against the inside of his head. The memories of what has happened, the emotions of what was and what is, it was all starting to be too much.
· “Bro, what’s all this?”, Mikey says standing behind Donnie’s chair, talking around a mouth full of pizza.
· “NOTHING!”, says Donnie, voice breaking from the stress of being caught. A startled Donnie quickly taps some keys on his keyboard and the screens revert back to the standard lair camera feeds.
· Mikey may look or even come off as naïve at times, but he’s no fool, he can sense that his older brother is trying to hide something. “Dude, seriously, what was that? I’ve been standing back here reading the screens. I saw Y/N’s name and that looked like her phone number on that other file…, you know the file that looks like texts messages. And why is there a plotted map of the area around her apartment, her work, and to the lair? What’s up?”, Mikey said giving a disapproving look at being thought a pushover.
· “Just standard surveillance, Mikey, nothing to worry about.”, Donnie says trying to placate Mikey’s curiosity. Donnie hates lying, especially to Mikey, but he’s feeling so guilty about being such a…(inward sigh)…stalking creep that admitting the truth is hard to do.
· Mikey stands there staring at Donnie and, as he does, Donnie begins to fidget with his computer chair armrests.
· Mikey stuffs the remnants of the pizza slice into his mouth and does his best Leo impersonation by crosses his arms and staring down at Donnie as sternly as his jolly face can achieve, “Dude, I’m not going to ask you again. You’ve been weird for months. We’ve let it go for the most part but now you are hiding things from me…from ME, dude! You and I, we’re like peanut butter and jelly, we’re ice cream and chocolate fudge, we young dudes have got to stick together. Trust me, bro, I’ve got you!”.
· Donnie stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet Mikey’s eyes any longer. He gave a heavy sigh and reluctantly started to speak, “Sorry Mike, I…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m doing things I never thought I would do, I’m feeling so guilty about it, but I don’t know if I can stop doing it either. I feel…lost.”.
· Mike relaxed his leader stance and leaned against one of Donnie’s lab tables, “Bro, I can tell you’ve been carrying some heavy stuff lately. You need to let it out.”
· Donnie felt the heat rise up through his body like he was suddenly being consumed by a fire and he ripped his glasses off his face and drew them down on the desk in frustration, “Mikey, I’m in love with Y/N. I have been for a while. I have been…”, Donnie hangs his head in shame, “…tracking all her digital foot prints and watching her. In fact, I’m the reason she found out that asshole boyfriend of her's cheated.”
· Mikey’s mouth drops open at Donnie’s demeanor and use of the word ‘asshole’, “Whoa, dude, why didn’t you say something earlier?”.
· Donnie can feel a stinging at the corners of his eyes, this was so embarrassing, so frustrating, so…..so many things at a once. He didn’t have a response for Mikey, all he could do was shake his head.
· Still with his head hung down and staring at the floor, Donnie starts to hear Mikey chuckle. Donnie looks up to see Mikey’s eyes on him and for some reason they are full of merriment at his painful dilemma. Donnie stares at his, normally, very considerate brother in astonishment, this isn’t like Mikey at all!
· “Mikey, I’m more than serious here, now is not the time to make fun of me. What is so funny?”, Donnie asks exasperatedly.
· Mikey shakes his bald head and claps his brother on the shoulder with his green hand, “Bro, she thinks you’re cute.”.
· “W-What?!”, Donnie stammers out.
· Mikey, still chuckling, says, “Yeah, dude, that’s why I asked WHY you didn’t say something about liking her sooner, she’s always thought you were cute. She and I talk about it all the time.”.
· Donnie just stares at his jolly brother in silence. His mind is too blown to form a sentence.
· Mikey turns to leave stating, “And by the way, dude, stop watching her like that…that’s just creepy.”.
@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @kokokatsworld @nittleboo @the-second-circle-of-shell
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hi hi ! first off, just a tip if you'd like more requests/asks in general you should prob turn on anon since this is like the only time i've sent a non-anon ask. but anyways, i'm assuming requests are open and i'd like to ask if you would write either just ranboo fluff in general or something like the tommy confession headcanons but w ranboo :D what you've posted so far is great <3
Thank you so much for letting me know! I thought I had anon turned on already, but it’s 100% turned on now! Regarding your request I got a little carried away and wrote both some general fluff and some confession headcanons for Ranboo so this post is a little long... Hope you enjoy! :D
(It’s important to note that these headcanons are a combination of ones pertaining to his Minecraft character in the dsmp and him outside of the dsmp roleplay!)
General Ranboo Fluff
- Dreamsmp Ranboo -
The first time Ranboo cries in front of you is when you confess to him and he is so happy and relieved that you reciprocate his feelings. He even smiles through the pain of his tears as you panic to cover the skin beneath his eyes, so your hands catch his tears to stop the pain.
Ranboo likes to ask if you need any resources from time to time and once you finally give in and answer, he spends the rest of his day trying to collect as much of it as he can. This has led to a few incidents in which you came back to your shared indent in the snowy mountain to find a chest stacked full with polished stone and countless ores. You’ve scolded him but the way he responds with big puppy dog eyes wishing to “just be helpful.” Sets the butterflies caged in your chest free every damn time.
Ranboo in addition to asking you for want you want he is also very observant in noticing what you need. Any tools close to breaking? Brilliant, he’s already got three more of the same tools ready for you to grab when you need it. He also names them using the anvil to some silly super cheesy pet names.
One of his favourite things to do with you is stargaze. You both travel to the top of your snowy mountain and clear out a space free of snow to lie down and simply hold each other. Ranboo has started asking Techno (on the nights you are away) to point out the stars and tell him their corresponding stories. He happily relays all of this information to you in exaggerated detail, looking at you in awe as your expressions change with the twinkling lights above.
Ranboo almost always carries a little umbrella around with him in case it begins to rain. Most of his friends notice and all start to buy him some. He now has a full collection that line his wall just next to the door. It’s those small things that allows him to remember who his real friends are.
Ranboo LOVES having his hair played with. He will fall asleep within minutes of you beginning to tousle his hair as he rests his head in your lap. He may make soft enderman noises, but you don’t dare tell him. Content on keeping that little secret to yourself.
Ranboo has to be kinda careful around snow considering that if it melts it will hurt him. Meaning he has to sit out on any snowball fights that occur. And they occur more frequently than you would think. It usually starts with Phil throwing a rogue snowball at Techno when Phil notices him slumping his shoulders. Which means it doesn’t take long until it’s a full-blown war. You usually find yourself smack bang in the middle of it and have to dive down to avoid getting pummelled in the crossfire. Ranboo will call you over to hide behind Techno’s house. As the onslaught continues between the two. you giggle and commentate over the fierce battle together.
- Outside of Dreamsmp Ranboo -
Ranboo enjoys watching you whenever you are focused on something. He’s incredibly observant and finds himself mimicking the small little nuances he sees you exhibit. He gets incredibly flustered whenever you notice that he’s picked up on them, but he doesn’t bother to deny it.
Ranboo finds himself staring at you a lot. He doesn’t mean to but he can’t help it. You catch him frequently, “Watching me real closely, hm?” He tries to stutter out an answer to defend himself, but you just smile and tell him it’s okay.
Ranboo finds a lot of comfort in doing ‘domestic’ activities with you. However, one of his personal favourites is when the two of you go out to get groceries together. His mum will give him a small list and he’ll try his best to dawdle around the store whilst swinging your intertwined hands to make the visit as long as possible. It makes him think of a future in which the two of you get to do this every single week and that alone warms his heart.
Ranboo always has to be near you, he doesn’t have to be physically touching you but he prefers to just be stupidly close to you. It always makes you laugh when he sits just close enough to you that you don’t touch, so now he has to do it forever.
Your laugh is one of his favourite sounds. To the point that if you giggle or laugh at something, he will just keep doing it over and over again for as long as you keep laughing at it. Which eventually leads to the both of you red-faced and gasping for air.
Ranboo is a terrible cook. But he tries so hard to follow recipes and they always flop. He also for some reason, cannot attempt cooking without making an utter mess of himself. Whether it’s spilling flour all over himself, getting egg yolk splatter somehow in his hair or just spilling copious amounts of milk on the floor so that he slips. This boy is a walking, talking kitchen DISASTER. So now he can only cook with you supervising him. Which turns out, wasn’t as much of a punishment as it should have been. As your tutelage seems to have slightly improved his cooking skills. However, now you also get flour spilt all over you as well.
Ranboo Confession Headcanons
- Realising he likes you -
Ranboo denies he has feelings for you at first. Believing that you’re just a good friend whose company he really enjoys. But the more he focuses on your friendship the quicker he realises he would prefer if you were more to him than that.
This thought alone sends him into a little bit of a spiral for a few days. Grappling with the thought of rejection and the guilt he would feel if he ever hurt you.
He spends most of the time grappling with his feelings he continues to try and act as normal as possible around you. You finding out would be his worst nightmare.
Ranboo realises he has absolutely no history in the dating department and desperately needs some guidance. He may ask Phil on a whim who would try his best to give the poor panicked boy some words of wisdom. Ranboo takes the advice to heart immediately, promising Phil he will update him on how his feelings for you turn out.
Ranboo finds himself writing about you in one of his many journals. He finds putting words on the page seems to help clear his mind. He tries to script his confession a few times. Desperately floundering to find the right words, but he always seems to fall short. He usually ends up scribbling all over those pages until you can barely tell someone had even written on them. Hoping to somehow erase the thoughts in the process.
He even tries drawing you a few times when he finds himself with enough spare time. He doesn’t think they’re any good though. Sure, the sketches look like you, but they don’t make him feel the way you do. When he looks at the page his chest doesn’t tighten because of your beauty, but instead because of the way you’ve made him feel. Which he comes to the sad conclusion is something he simply cannot capture in his words or his drawings. He has to show it through his actions. Not exactly his strong suit. But he’s determined to do right by you. So, he devises a plan.
- Confessing to you -
This boy plans the whole day down to a t, he has multiple back-up plans just in case his first one falls short.
Ranboo invites you over for lunch. Arriving at his place you notice how clean it is. He spent the last few days cleaning it top to bottom.
You spend a few minutes in the house chatting. You notice Ranboo is on edge almost immediately. Shoulders a pinch too tight, his smiles a little too wide and none of them reach his eyes.
You ask what you’re going to be having for lunch and he reveals a wicker basket from his kitchen. “A picnic!” Your heart warms, “I would’ve brought something if you’d told me beforehand.” He smiles at that, “Exactly. I even cooked without you, you should be proud.”
He shuffles on his feet a little, wishing to be praised, “We’ll see how the food tastes first, maybe then I’ll tell you how proud I am.” You tease, moving to elbow him lightly. You notice the way his face flushes as you move into his space. His mother appears from upstairs, “Are you two leaving? I could drive you, y’know!” “No thanks mom!!” He is quick to grab your hand and practically drag you out of the house and away from his all knowing mom.
The bus ride is on the longer side and you find yourself feeling brave enough to scoot a little closer to Ranboo. “Hey, is it okay if I?” You gesture between your head and his shoulder, the cute, shocked expression he sends you causes you to grin. “Uh s-sure!”
You softly press your head against his shoulder, “Thanks, pretty comfy shoulder you got here should’ve asked you to share it sooner.” You tease, nuzzling his shoulder lightly just for a reaction. And you get one alright, his skin goes such a lovely shade of red all the way up to the tips of his ears. You giggle softly, trying your best to hold it in and failing miserably.
You even manage to fall asleep despite your own heartbeat quickening at Ranboo’s closeness. You are tapped awake by him, “Hmm?” You rub one of your eyes knowingly appearing adorable and the way he looks at you makes it all worth it. “It’s our stop soon, we gotta get up.”
You nod and lazily stand and he follows suit. Only for the bus to brake abruptly, promptly shoving you into his chest. He wraps his arms around you quickly to steady you whilst you desperately cling to the wicker basket, “You okay?” You both mumble to each other before laughing it off and nodding. “Oh crap.” Ranboo grabs your free hand and you both scramble to get to the front of the bus to hop off. Sparks fly up your arm at the extended contact, even as you jump off the bus.
Ranboo happily leads you to a spot he had picked out earlier in the month. A soft patch of grass below a large willow tree that now sways softly in the warm breeze. You set up your carefully packaged feast with haste now that your stomachs are grumbling.
Ranboo forcefully tries to make himself relax knowing you’ve probably noticed his tense state by now. But you choose not to push him on it, taking an educated guess on why he’s so stressed.
You are quick to compliment his cooking skills when he divvies out a freshly baked quiche. Even though you know his mom for sure did most of the work. It’s the thought that counts. You hope that may snap him out of the stupor he seems to be in. However, no such luck.
“Hey Ranboo, do you want to talk about something?” Ranboo goes into full panic mode. He did not have a plan for you asking something like this. He thought you weren’t confrontational!! You watch as his expression changes rapidly. You look away, “You don’t have to tell me, it’s okay. I just thought you might want to-“
He takes one of your hands in his. Why is he doing this??? This isn’t part of the plan at all! “I…” His throat goes dry. All those hours obsessing over what he was going to say to you are sent out the window when he finally meets your eyes.
“I think I like you.” He hasn’t realised he’s even said it until its waaaaaay too late. Your eyes widen, you didn’t think he’d actually admit it to you. You squeeze his hand as you watch his eyes seem to lose focus, “I like you too.” He is silent for several long moments until he starts blinking rapidly, “Huh!?” The look of utter surprise on his face causes you to burst out laughing.
“Wait, wait, wait you’re serious?” He grabs your arm as a grin slowly starts to creep onto his face. “Sure am.” And as you meet his gaze you realise that his grin actually reached his eyes, for the first time in a long while.
“So, you gonna kiss me now or what?” You tease as his face shines a dark red. “W-well I, uh-“ His stuttering only allows for you to sneak closer and press a firm kiss to his cheek. Somehow, he grows even redder and you sigh pleasantly. “My heart definitely made the right choice with you Ranboo.”
Meanwhile Ranboo is too busy freaking out over the fact that you weren’t even meant to find out he liked you until you were stargazing together later tonight. His plans are utterly ruined! But as you squeeze his hand again to bring his thoughts back into the present, he wonders that perhaps spontaneity isn’t such a bad thing sometimes.
~My ask box is always open if you’ve got any requests or just want to vent about the dreamsmp lore!~
#mcyt#ranboo#x reader#ranboo x reader#fluff headcanons#mcyt x reader#confession headcanons#mcyt imagines#mcyt headcanons
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tape 5: play
Pairing: Zhong Chenle x reader
Themes: angst, ex! au, college-ish au, small town au. It goes back and forth a lot
Warnings: heavy angst, bittersweet ending, swearing, its very sad, chenle is a jerk
Wc: 6k
Playlist: 2 kids by Taemin, Gone by Rosé, Instagram by Dean, I still do by Why Don’t We, Believed by Lauv
Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @chicksung @1-800-seo @blueprint-han @jenosslut @cupidluvstarrz @kkakkdugi @sweetlyjaem @vera-liscious @leetaeyonglover @kunrengui @unknown5tar @kisshim @intokook @mrkcore @coco-riki
Summary: A year after your boyfriend moved away, you find yourself sitting in your room with five tapes, earphones, a cassette player and what you hoped, and feared, was closure.
Authors Note: hello! this fic was supposed to be a small blurb but then i got inspired and lo and behold its a full fledged fic! I can’t believe I wrote this in two days sdfjfjkfjk. Feedback would be very much appreciated for this, since I’ve never written anything like this before ;-;
Midtown, almost got a place out of midtown, Instead I took a plane out of this town, And missed out on us
~
It was a sunny Saturday morning, as you pulled into your driveway, coming back from the store.
Parking the car and getting the bags, you walked up to the door, knocking it and waiting. You were met with your mother’s smiling face as she took one of the bags of groceries from you.
You lived in a small sleepy town, and attended the college there as well, which meant you still stayed with your parents. You were fine with that, you liked living there, and you could forgo the stress and anxiety of having to re adjust to a new place.
This was your home. It always had been.
Of course, you had been on holidays to other places, you had visited the other town, but when it came to it, you had always found yourself back where you started. There was no other place for you, there never would be.
It was the truth, but it held something bitter.
Then again, you had enough going on already, with being in your freshman year, straight out of high school, college life was very different. You had been to a total of two parties so far, courtesy of your best friend— Lia— dragging you with her.
You had enjoyed them, but it wasn’t something you would voluntarily participate in again.
The workload was something that had definitely changed, bogged down with mandatory lectures and assignments, tests popping up like a bad smell, you had more than enough to occupy you.
“Something has arrived for you!” Your mother said, almost excitedly, “It’s on the table.”
You helped her put away the groceries, walking to your living room, eyes falling on the package sitting on the table. It was somewhat shabbily wrapped, with tape haphazardly stuck on it to keep it together, and a tag pasted on the top.
Picking it up, you pass it from your right hand to your left, feeling its weight, reading the little tag. It held your address, your name and another name you hadn’t seen in almost a year.
Your mind ran at a hundred miles per minute, wondering why it was here, why his name was on it. It made no sense to you.
“Darling? Are you okay?”
Your mothers voice snapped out of your reverie, nodding slowly, “I’ll be in my room, finishing off a project”, you said carefully, trying not to show any sort of emotion as you climbed up the stairs of your house, two at a time, making sure not to drop the package.
Closing the door, you place it on your bed, reading over the tag again, a bitter taste filling your mouth. A name you hadn’t thought of in a year coming back now. It was so random, so absolutely unnecessary.
You curled your fingers around the messy brown paper, tearing it open as your mind reeled. The crackling sound filled the silence as the contents of it make itself known to you.
A shoebox.
It’s dusty, a dark blue colour with a line of red running at its side. There were two holes on either end, lined with metal piping and you could just about make out the nike symbol on the top. You brushed your hand over it, the dust coming off easily and sticking to your fingers.
Why would he send you this?
His name sticks out on the tag like a sore thumb, reminding you of what you lost, mocking you. Always content with where you are, hmm? His voice comes back, as clear as day. It’s as if he’s standing there, giving you his chesire cat grin as he spoke the words.
Zhong Chenle.
Lifting the lid off the box, you’re thrown into confusion. A cassette player, a pair of earphones, and five tapes. Picking up the player, you smile briefly at the dramatic set up. He could’ve called you, or sent a message, so why did he take the pains of sending you something as old and unnecessary as this?
Then again, it had been a year since he stopped picking up your calls, since you stopped trying to call him. A year since all contact had been cut off, as if he had never existed in the first place.
Sometimes you wondered if Chenle had been a hallucination. An imaginary friend.
Friend.
The questions filter in. Why? It had been a year, so why had he sent you this now? You had finally told yourself you were over it, that you didn’t need an answer, but somehow as soon as you did that, you found yourself sitting in your room on your bed with what could be it.
The tapes were numbered in permanent marker in his messy handwriting, from one to five, indicating the order in which they were to be listened to in. You picked up the first, slotting it in the player and waiting.
You didn’t know what you were waiting for.
You pressed play. There was crackling, but only for a moment, until it went silent. Maybe this was all a mistake, maybe this wasn’t even happening. Maybe-
i] tape 1: you deserve to hate me
Hey
His voice cut through your spiraling thoughts as you froze in place. He sounded the same as you last heard him, a little muffled due to the recording but the same. At the same time he sounded like a stranger. There was silence for a moment again, before he spoke up.
This is stupid isn’t it?
You felt the urge to answer, but your mouth went dry. It had been so, so long, and even though you had adequate time to get over him, it suddenly felt as if you were treading unfamiliar territory once again.
I-I don’t know why I’m doing this. I think it’s because I feel so horrible, I need an outlet. I guess speaking it into existence and recording it makes is my outlet. Making it all real.
But that’s fucking terrifying.
You don’t think you’re following, confused once again.
Y/n
You hear him take a deep breath right after your name, and it sends a chill down your spine, hearing him say your name once again. You had almost forgotten how it sounded.
I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this, or listen to it. If you don’t I’ll actually be glad. You don’t deserve to, I’ve been a jerk to you. I’m sorry. I hope you hate me, I definitely deserve it.
I’m moving in two months.
The realization hits you, this had been recorded a year ago as well, two months before he left without a word or warning. It was old, he was here when he recorded it.
You didn’t quiet know how you felt, not yet anyways.
And you won’t know until I’m gone.
I’m moving to Korea, and I refuse to tell you, even if it makes me the bad guy, even if it feels worse, because that’s my dream.
I got signed by a record label after sending them that demo I did —remember it? We both went to the studio together, you listening outside as I sang. You were right by my side, all the time.
Except now when I record this, except when I leave.
I refuse to tell you, because the moment I do I know it’ll be real, realer than it is now as I say it. I don’t want to see the look on your face when I say I’m going, I know it’ll make me want to stay, but I don’t want to stay.
You knew exactly what he was talking about, you could recollect that day clearly. There was a small studio a little outside the town. That day, he had booked it for two hours to record a demo, his singing mentor with him and you tagging along.
It had always been like that, the two of you against the world, until, of course he left.
I physically can’t stay, I hate it here Y/n. It’s not for me, I want to get out, that had always been the plan. I want to get out and be free, I want to achieve my dreams. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe I don’t deserve a minute more of your time, but I want it all.
That’s why I’m not going to tell you —so I can have it all, at least until I don’t have you.
But you, you don’t deserve this, do you? Of course you don’t, but I suppose you’re the one with the shitty luck, you’re the one who ended up with me and now I’m going to hurt you.
He laughs a dry, breathy laugh. It was half hearted, as if he was trying to get himself to believe the situation was funny.
It’s not your fault I-fuck I’m sorry.
You heard a click and the tape died off, he had stopped recording there. The first tape was finished, and honestly, you didn’t know how to react. One part of you wanted to feel nothing, you wanted to put the player and the five tapes back into the box and send them away, or lock them in your closet to never find them again.
But the other part of you wanted to know more. You wanted to know how he felt, what went through his mind during that time. You wanted to know just how you lost Chenle, the first boy you ever loved.
Suddenly you felt overwhelmed, vulnerable almost. It was as if someone had opened up an old wound and left it open.
You got to your feet abruptly, pulling the earphones from your ears and dropping them on your bed, taking a step away and blinking rapidly. You couldn’t get caught up in the past, you couldn’t put yourself through that again.
But it was hard when the past was in your present.
Wasted, and all of my regret, I can taste it, If I had a time-machine, I would take it, And make it back to us
~
That night you couldn’t sleep.
The box sat on your desk, right next to your laptop, staring at you. You turned around on your bed, looking the other way, only to be met with the white of the walls.
You never liked the colour white.
It was too plain, too open for interpretation. It never had a solid answer. You liked stability, you wanted something permanent. You were the type of person that needed that reassurance.
Perhaps that’s why you were happy where you were, you didn’t find the appeal in starting over, because that meant nothing was certain. You stayed where you were because everything was already laid out for you.
It was like a colouring book in your little town, the lines all set out, everything drawn for you. Change meant you had to sketch everything from scratch. What if you messed up?
Needless to say, it was a good thing you weren’t an art major.
“This is ridiculous”, you whispered to yourself, sighing at the fact that you were now talking to yourself. You rolled over so that you were lying on your back, staring at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars shone with their dull green light. You remember the day you had put them up, with Chenle.
You shared a lot of memories with him.
“Fucking hell”, you hissed, sitting up, swinging your legs off the edge of your bed and walking to your desk, sitting on the chair. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you picked up the second tape, inserting it in the player and putting the earphones on, waiting for it to begin.
ii] tape 2: milk before cereal
I know I’m making some terrible decisions, I really do, but if there’s one thing I stand by, its the fact that milk definitely goes before the cereal.
Why am I talking about this?
Well, because today you came over, Y/n, you came over and the two of us were watching a movie, and in the middle of it, you decided you wanted to have cereal, specifically frosted flakes.
So what do we do? We have cereal because I can’t say no to you. You’re welcome by the way, honestly, I deserve the boyfriend of the year award.
A moment of silence.
No I don’t. I really don’t.
You bit your lower lip, shutting your eyes. It was the way he switched, the way his demeanor changes so suddenly that made you want to scream. Sometimes it felt like he was telling a story, one you knew and loved.
Only for the next moment to bring you down to reality, reminding you that all stories don't have happy endings.
Anyways, we got the cereal and you objected when I put the milk first, saying that it was wrong, but how? In what way? Here me out Y/n, I shall tell you why I’m right, even If I’m not actually talking to you.
You couldn’t help but scoff at this, shaking your head at Chenle. He had always had a flair for being dramatic in the littlest ways possible. It was endearing.
Putting the cereal first means it sits in the milk for longer! If you put the cereal last, you can have it crunchy! Isn’t that ten times better? Unless you’re one of the devils spawn and like soggy cereal. If so I’m hypothetically breaking up with you right here right now.
Ah...bad wording. I keep forgetting I have to break up with you. I don’t want to, is that selfish?
You deserve the truth, if only I was strong enough to give it to you. Staying silent is so much easier.
It’s not lying, not completely anyways. I’m not lying if I don’t tell you at all. I suppose it’s a half truth then, with the truth hidden in plain sight.
*click*
Lying. That’s what he did, even though he spent the last few minutes of the tape trying to justify it, he lied. He trampled all over your heart without a single warning.
You had trusted Chenle, having known him since you were thirteen. He had completely destroyed that trust. Something like that couldn’t be fixed so easily, not even if he had sent you these tapes.
Then again, you didn’t know why he sent them.
You retreated to your bed, turning away from the tapes, the words and memories they held, facing white once again.
You had met Chenle when the two of you were thirteen, in eight grade math. The boy was failing the class, and one day you found him sitting early morning in class, with his head in his hands as he groaned over some sort of equation.
You had offered to help, and the smile he gave was the brightest one you had ever seen, he was practically grinning from ear to ear. That was the beginning of your friendship, and the two of you were inseperable.
Ninth grade it was confirmed that the two of you were best friends, sitting together, complaining about teachers together, going places together so your parents didn’t need to tag along.
In your last year of high school the two of you started dating, and when you had told your parents, they were ecstatic, confessing they had always thought the two of you would end up together.
He was always there for you, every time you needed him. You could give him a call and he would be outside your door. If you were feeling insecure or scared, he was always there to hype you up.
You had been best friends before, you were lovers then, and it was amazing. You loved everything about being with Chenle. You loved everything about him, from his toothy grin to his obnoxiously loud laugh.
You loved the way his eyes sparkled when he had an idea (which, for the most part, were absolutely terrible. Needless to say the two of you got in trouble a lot), when he sang for you when you stayed over, the way he would always make sure you were never cold.
You loved him.
It was written in the stars, you were meant to be, it was the perfect combination. Chenle was the right person for you- the perfect person.
A year later you woke up with him gone, no texts, no warnings. He had just gone, leaving you alone.
Right person, wrong time.
Monday came around sooner than you thought it would, the weekend passing in a blur as you walked out of your first class, spotting Lia leaning against the wall outside your class, scrolling through something on her phone.
She was an exchange student, not originally from your town, but had fit right in. Sometimes you wished you could be like that.
“Oh! You’re out! Listen, there’s a party on Friday and you’re coming with me”, she stated. It wasn’t a request, it was a fact, you were to go with her. In her own words, ‘if I didn’t exist you’d probably have no social life.’
To be fair, she wasn���t wrong.
You nodded defeatedly, walking with her down the hallway, “I assume you want to go because of the cute new guy?”
She glared, but didn’t refute your accusation, “His name is Mark”, she said, “And that is none of your business.”
You snickered, “Oh it so is, you like him don’t you? Is this going to be another one of your crushes?”
Lia was notorious for having a new crush almost every week, being a very flighty person, her mind changed before you could even say her name. This was a bit of a problem, considering you went to her for advice a lot.
Her indecisive nature was not the best for that.
She rolled her eyes at this, “He’s cute, why not? Wonder if I can get him to dance with me at the party. You’re going to be my hype woman-”
“And the sober buddy?”
Lia ignored that.
“Also there’s this new singer”, she said, handing you one of her earbuds, “apparently he came from here!”
Taking one of the earbuds, you were hit with a familiar voice. It sounded amazing honestly, catchy, everything a song needed, but it was the voice that hit you. You didn’t even need to ask Lia for the singer, swallowing the lump in your throat and glancing at her phone, which confirmed your suspicions.
Filling with some sort of dread, your hands immediately went to hold your hand, specifically the bottom where the cassette player and the tapes were. You had been carrying them around with you, as if scared they would disappear if you left them alone.
“Isn’t he good?”
You nodded, not daring to answer as you bit your lower lip, “Hey Lili, I need to use the washroom so see ya later”, you said, handing her the earbud and taking off in the other direction, pushing open the doors to the washroom and getting into one of the stalls.
You had stalled listening to the next tape all Sunday, you didn’t even know why, but hearing him sing, that fact that he had actually made it, it struck something in you. You wanted to feel proud of him, but all you felt was bitter.
Was it a coincidence that this new singer had come out- Chenle himself- right when you received the tapes?
Pushing the top of the toilet down, you took a seat, taking the player out and plugging in, you pressed play for the third tape, waiting for it to begin playing.
tape iii] ill miss our dates
Remember when we went for that field trip? Ninth grade? We sat in the back of the bus together avoiding the stares of our teachers when they told us to sit down?
Then they pulled us apart? Yeah, mean fuckers.
Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about, I just felt like reminiscing for a sec there, but today we went of a date! Well, I mean we got ice cream and then went to the park, but hey, it was fun.
You smiled. He had always jumped from one topic to another without any meaning to either. Sometimes it was a frustrating habit, (you had been on the receiving end of these useless conversations several times, which ended with you glaring at him exasperatedly), but for the most part, extremely comical.
I’m going to miss that. I’m going to miss you. Your little smile — have I ever told you just how pretty your smile is? Your eyes light up and crinkle at the sides and its something I don’t think I’ll ever forget, even when I’m gone.
You clutched the cassette player, marveling at the irony. He was talking about your smile, but why did you want to cry?
It’s a month left now, and I want to make the most of it. Tomorrow I’m taking you to the amusement part and then next week I’m surprising you with dinner. I guess doing things for you —for us — makes me feel better, like I’m compensating.
You deserve the world Y/n, and I want to see that world while you’re happy where you are.
You don’t deserve having to deal with me.
*click*
Your eyes burned, because you remembered each of those events. You had been so happy, so overjoyed at them. They burned with tears because there it was again, that reminder that you were destined to be stuck right where you were, because you were that idiot who was content.
But if someone, anyone, asked you at that very moment if you were happy, the answer would’ve been an outright no.
1 YEAR AGO
~
“Hey Chenle?”
“Hmm?”
“Why do you want to leave?”
The boy thought about this for a second, before smiling wistfully, “Don’t you want to know how it is outside home?”
“But everything I need is here.”
Your eyes held a question, you were genuinely baffled by his reasoning, the way he was so stuck of getting out. You studied your bewildered expression, shaking his head. “You’re lucky”, he said finally, “You know exactly what you want.”
“Of course I don’t, but I know what I need Chenle, and that’s all around me.”
He shook away his other thoughts, “Hey maybe we’ll go exploring the world together some day.
You blinked, “You want me there with you?”
He nodded, grinning widely, “I want to take you along, Imagine, it’ll be fucking awesome, and hey this time there will be no teachers to separate us. We can even stand in the bus-if we’re taking a bus, that it.”
You laughed, “Maybe”, you mused, looking back down at your phone, “While I don’t exactly see the appeal, it would be fun to be with you.”
Chenle’s smile faltered, but he didn’t let it fall completely, wrapping his arms around you and sighing, closing his eyes and whispering something just loud enough for you to hear.
“Maybe.”
Why did it feel this way?
Chenle was right- you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to feel this way at all. It had been a year, so why did it affect you?
Why was it all happening at once?
You clicked your tongue, eyeing the player with contempt. You felt pathetic for being curious, for still feeling so attached to old news. It wasn’t as if it was going to change anything, so why?
Why did you still want to know?
Curiosity killed the cat. You wondered if knowing would somehow kill you.
No one was at home currently, so you sat in the living room on your couch. The items you were trying so hard to ignore were sitting on the small table in front of the couch, as if waiting for you to pick them up once again.
You wondered if you should tell Lia and ask her opinion about the situation. She may not be that helpful, but hell, she could help you burn the tapes if worse came to worse.
Sometimes you wished you had never met Chenle, that your history with him could be erased from your memories. You wished it never existed because fuck, it still hurt.
Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and pressed play.
tape iv] firsts with you
Do you remember our first kiss?
We were eighteen, in my room, playing Jenga. That was a year ago, oh god, I can’t even imagine, how has it been a year? You were wearing one of my shirts and jeans, your hair was in a ponytail. The two of us were sitting on the carpet on my floor.
You had successfully gotten one of the wooden pieces out of a risky area of the tower, but then it was my turn, it feel to the ground, destroyed.
I blamed you, and you laughed, and our banter continued. We argued and at one point I started tickling you to get you to shut up, because honestly-Jesus Christ Y/n you’re fucking stubborn.
Anyways I ended up on top of you and the two of us were laughing. You looked so pretty, hair messily scattered around your face as you attempted to get out of my hold.
I leaned down and kissed you.
Your throat closed up as he spoke. Your eyes stung and you raked your hand through your hair, biting down on your lower lip. The way he was speaking about it, as if he would do anything to go back, it struck something in you.
Because if you had the chance, you would go back as well.
You tasted like that strawberry chapstick you liked to wear. I could tell you were surprised, because you didn’t kiss me back for a good two seconds —which, by the way sent me into a panic for a moment there.
But then you kissed me, and fuck, it was like everything had stopped. I couldn’t think for a second, it was like the world had started spinning around me, and the only thing that was keeping me grounded, was you.
Was it supposed to hurt like this?
You sucked in a sharp breath, fingers fisted the material of your shirt as you tried keeping your composure. You didn’t want to cry, but he was making it so, so hard for you.
You remembered how it felt when he kissed you, you were legitimately so confused, was he really kissing you? Your best friend, the boy you had loved quietly for so long, kissing you?
Chenle was your first kiss, and it was the most perfect first kiss you could have ever asked for, even if you were on the floor, with random Jenga blocks scattered around the two of you.
The smile you gave me after I pulled away, I wish I could remember it forever. It was goofy as you burst into giggles, and asked me, “What was that for?”
I blinked in surprise, wondering how you seemed so normal, when for me everything had changed. I had kissed my best friend, the one girl I care the most about.
I must have looked like a tomato oh god.
Instead of waiting for my to answer, you sat up, pulling me into another kiss. This time it was me who was unprepared. The kiss was messy, it had no structure or plan, but I realized in that moment, that I really liked kissing you, and I wanted to do it more often.
You became my girlfriend.
The wistful tone he was using was starting to affect you. You had loved Chenle, almost too much. You could almost feel that nostalgic happiness you felt that day when he kissed you for the first time, the disbelief and joy that wrapped around the two of you.
A wave of sadness followed that nostalgia.
Our first date was so fucking awkward. We were at that little cafe you loved, you ordered a cheesecake and I got a smoothie, and then we sat in silence for a good five minutes.
It really shouldn’t have been that painful, considering we knew everything about each other already, then again that might be why it was awkward, I had nothing to ask you about.
So naturally I brought up school and that started it, the two of us complaining about the amount of assignments we had, and Mrs. Choi’s annoying squeaky voice- I swear to god that woman took a second for each word.
But I digress.
Slowly our conversation felt normal again, it was just us, eating cheesecake and drinking smoothies, together.
That wave of sadness crashed down upon you like a tsunami, trying to snuff you out. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, you were struggling to keep yourself together. You were struggling to stay afloat, you had lost any leverage you had that was holding you up.
You couldn’t fight the waves.
My flight is in two hours. It’s four in the morning and we’re about to walk through the door and get to the airport, but I wanted to talk to you once again, even if we’re not really talking.
I’m pathetic.
You’re sleeping, in your bed at your home, you don’t know I’m going because I’m the coward that refused to tell you the truth. I’ll be gone by the time you wake up and then you’ll know.
You’ll know how much of a waste of time I was.
And then you were angry.
You were angry because he had no right to just come back into your life like this, no fucking right to make you cry. He wasn’t even here, but somehow he had managed to make you fall apart just with his words, with his voice.
He had no right to tear your world apart, the little composure you had standing. You had finally accepted the fact that he was gone, you had moved on, and even tried to forget.
But here he was, making sure you could never forget.
You hated how selfish he was, how absolutely fucking oblivious. He had no clue, not even one as to how you felt when he just disappeared from your life, as if he never existed. He had broken you and here he was, breaking you again.
With trembling hands, you stopped the tape from playing any further, angry tears making their way down your face as you flung the player across the room. You had no intention of listening any further, you didn’t want to, you didn’t care.
Closure hurt more than him leaving.
You buried your head in your hands, letting yourself fall apart, but just this once.
tape iv] continued [unheard]
I’m sorry Y/n. I’m so fucking sorry.
You don’t have to believe me, because I’m leaving anyways, so I suppose that cancels out my apologies huh? I’m the worst person you ever met. I’m not stopping, I’m not going to leave you a text.
Because I don’t want to hurt you anymore.
I’ll be gone before we could ever be.
Should’ve believed in us, while we existed, cuz now the whole things fucked, and just a figment of my imagination
~
Time heals all hurt, and reminders bring them back, cutting through your skin like a knife, making you bleed.
A week later, you found yourself sitting in your favorite cafe, the same cafe Chenle talked about in the last tape. You ordered a cheesecake and a smoothie, inserting the fifth and final tape into the player.
The last time you did this, you were left hurt and distraught, promising yourself you would never go back to listen to him again. You had put the shoebox in your closet, hiding it behind your clothes that hung from the rack.
Yet here you were.
You didn’t bother finishing the fourth tape, you didn’t see the need to.
This tape, you observed, was newer looking, with less scratches on the plastic, even the marker on the side looked more recent, a little rushed if you went into detail.
The cheesecake and drink arrived, and you took a bite, pressing play.
tape v] play
Hey.
He sounded a little different too, older perhaps. His voice was smoother, but he sounded unsure of himself. It sounded as if he was trying to figure out how to approach the topic. He was being cautious.
It’s been a while. I...I don’t know why I’m doing this. There’s no point- you’re not even here. I found these stupid tapes yesterday in my dorm when I was cleaning out and gave them a listen.
Silence.
I envy you, Y/n. I wish I was like you, happy wherever I was. But I’m not, and I probably caused you great unhappiness while trying to search for my own- but I was happy with you, so happy it was ridiculous.
I sabotaged that.
You sighed, realizing you felt nothing. You were tired of crying over Chenle, you were done doing that. Instead you felt empty, like you had been tired out, like it didn’t matter anymore. At this point you were to get it over with, to finish it off on clean ending note.
My song comes out next week, and it’ll be done. I’ve made it Y/n, I’ve gotten to where I wanted to be, the place I had worked so hard to get to. I’ve sacrificed so much for this and it’s all been worth it- except one thing.
I don’t expect you to listen to my song, I just wanted to tell you. I..I hope you’re proud of me. Even if I was a jerk, I hope you can be proud, at least a little bit, because then I’ll have finally made it.
I miss you.
The same words are at the tip of your tongue, I miss you, I miss you so fucking much, but they never came out. They didn’t have to, it would be useless. He would never hear them.
Instead, you swallowed them back down.
And even though I made fun of you for staying home, I hope you’re happy like I am, I hope we’ll meet again one day. If we do I challenge you to a game of Jenga, loser buys the winner ice cream.
I-fuck this is the hardest part- but I hope you’ve moved on. One of us has to.
*click*
You don’t take the tape out of the player, you don’t touch it at all. You feel oddly calm as you take another bite of your cheesecake, savoring the strawberry reserve that it came with it. You could almost imagine yourself at eighteen again sitting opposite your new boyfriend.
You missed it, the memories that came along with it. That was it, you missed the feelings you had.
But you were okay. You would be okay right where you were, because that’s where you belonged. It hurt, yeah, but it had hurt back then as well. Now it was just a dull ache, all that was left was regret.
Regret that it didn’t work out, regret over unspoken words and unnecessary pain.
A familiar song filled the cafe as you smiled somewhat sadly, leaning back in your seat and closing your eyes.
“I’m proud of you Chenle”, you whispered, “Because you did what I couldn’t”
You left the cafe a little later, with the cassettes in your bag, an empty plate and the smoothie sitting on the table, untouched. After all, that smoothie wasn’t for you.
There was nothing to wait for anymore. You had loved and you had lost, Chenle was a stranger with your secrets and a familiar voice and that was it.
You had forgiven him a long time ago, even without him being deserving of it. Now with all the loose ends being tied up, it felt like you could finally let go of him, you could finally move on.
And forget.
#chenle x reader#kpopscape#nctcreations#neoculturecafe#nct-writers#cznnet#neowritingsnet#zhong chenle x reader#nct chenle x reader#nct#chenle#zhong chenle#nct fanfiction#chenle angst#chenle fluff#chenle fanfiction#nct dream#nct dream scenarios#dreamies#dream chenle#chenle oneshots
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Whumptober Day 1
all trussed up and still nowhere to go
“you have to let go” | barbed wire | bound
kingdom come - corrupt!zelda au | part 2
warnings: survivor’s guilt, trauma, gory imagery/body horror (descriptions of Ganon), injury mention, burn mention, blood mention, nausea, head injury, loss of consciousness, acceptance of death, binds, manipulation
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Looking out at the rolling plains, the baby blue sky, the lively green grass, and the flourishing wildlife nearly everywhere he could see, it was hard to believe that Hyrule was decimated a century ago. Where life bloomed now, death had once spread, and it was anything but beautiful when the fields were burning—when guardians and monsters alike chased down any and all living things. It was hard to take down powerful beasts and even more so when they didn’t stay down.
But just like those vile creatures who only wanted to cause chaos, Hyrule never really died either. It was the quick and clever thinking of Princess Zelda that saved them all by containing the beast of Calamity inside of the very place she once called home. She was a thing of myth some hundred years later when people recalled her beauty or her bravery. If it were not for the moons scorched with blood, or the chilling cry of a colossal demon, or the guardians still roving over the land, one could find themselves thinking that the story of Hyrule was nothing more than a cautionary fairytale. What moral could come from such devastating times? Do not run from fate, or you will end up as caged as the Hyrulean Princess? Do not put heart above duty, or you will fall just as the legendary hero? Or perhaps, do not put trust in things you cannot always control?
Really, there was no lesson to be learned. Destruction would come as it did, and there was nothing they could’ve done to stop it. At least, that’s what Link told himself on the many nights he was found unable to sleep, too haunted by the ghosts of his past and terrorized by the stalling sensation of guilt. How solemn that sounded, how pitiful. He did not want pity. What good did that do him, when he’d already lost everything? He’d fallen once, and that cost him his friends, his life, the place he called home–pity would not bring that back. Hymns of brave soldiers and lost princesses would not bring that back. Stories that turned a traumatizing cause of devastation into a life lesson would not bring that back.
The only thing he wanted, months after waking in a shrine to a beautiful voice and with a fractured soul, was peace. He wanted to toss the sword of legend aside and never look at it again. He wanted to curl up in the bed of his Hateno home and sleep for another hundred years, or at least, until the pictures of a burning kingdom and the unholy screeching of Calamity Ganon disappeared just long enough for his mind to go quiet. He wanted to try to be normal, for even just a moment. No hero, no revenge, nothing of the sort.
It was a shame that the image of what he wanted was incomplete without the princess he’d once devoted his heart and soul to. He could not remember her in the way he would’ve liked. Link was granted a glimpse of her face here, a whisper of her voice there, a ghost of her touch when the loneliness became too much. On the few occasions he remembered more, when he could see her so very clearly in a moment framed in time, it felt almost like a dream. A dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. And just like a pleasurable dream that left one feeling warm and special, Zelda slipped through his fingers like liquid, faster than he could process and unable to be stopped. In its wake was a blank space of aching emptiness, right where he knew she should be. She was all he had left, the one thing that could connect him to the world he lived in, because without her, he had no purpose. He had no guidance. He was nothing.
So Link scoured the whole of the continent, from icy tundras to scorching deserts, climbing active volcanos and harnessing what the wild gave him, to grow stronger. He tamed the Divine Beasts and freed the shackled spirits of his long lost friends. He offered his company to the princess on the nights of the blood moon, where she would warn him and assure him that he was doing well, and that she was alright. He sought out the legendary Sword that Seals the Darkness and underwent trials upon backbreaking, painstaking trials to prove himself worthy of the full power the Master Sword was capable of.
And then, he hesitated. He hesitated because he could not recall what Calamity Ganon looked like, or was capable of. Freeing the Divine Beasts became something horribly tedious, something that stoked a new sort of trauma in him, because the Scourges were certainly not for the faint of heart. The first time the malice surged past him and combined to form a twisted amalgamation of a beast, Link thought he was going to die again, with no hope for recovery this time. Every blight was grotesque, dripping with the glowing incarnation of hatred, and over twice his size. Their sickly skin stung to touch, leaving angry red burns everywhere it could. Their weapons were brutal and chaotically, skillfully wielded, and it was by miracle alone that he’d survived this long. There was nothing quite as agonizing as being shred alive by an ancient demon, only for his fire-filled nerves and ragged skin to stubbornly patch itself back together before his very eyes. Mipha’s Grace should not have been used so kindly on him.
For as much trouble and agony the Scourges were, they were only extensions of Calamity Ganon, small pieces of the monstrosity awaiting him deep within Hyrule Castle. Just thinking about it rendered him on the brink of a panic attack. Princess Zelda had faced it utterly alone for decades, so what if he failed to do the same? What if he could not defeat the beast, and would therefore be responsible for yet another destructive wave? All of the friends he had made, all of the new life that’d bloomed, it would be devastated by his hands if he could not slay the Calamity. What of Princess Zelda, then? Surely it would kill her, too. Picturing her expressive green eyes dulled by the kiss of death made Link feel so nauseated that he could not eat for hours.
Shamefully and pathetically, he put it off. He searched for that hundredth Korok Seed, he filled the Hyrule Compendium, he ran every single errand and helped every single person that he could, all the while wishing that the darkness of night or comfort of walls could hide him from Zelda’s ever watchful gaze. It did nothing to quiet the screaming in his skull, the longing in his chest. It was only when his guilt had him by the neck that he swallowed his nerves and stormed Hyrule Castle before the courage could leave him.
Every room was empty. Sad, decrepit, and empty. Of course, the Calamity would want the biggest stage it could find and so, to the top floor of the castle he climbed. The guardians were pesky and the monsters relentless, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the beast, free of its prison, towering over him like it was starving and ready to feast.
He thought he saw a glimpse of golden hair, precious and fleeting, just outside of his peripheral vision, but the Calamity lunged for his neck and Link was forced to throw himself to the side, searching for any opportunity to counter the attack. For a monstrosity of a size that rivaled the Divine Beasts, it was quick.
A jump at the wrong time, a split second too late, caused the Calamity’s ancient axe to slice through his skin. It was nothing more than a nick, but it stung enough to make him stumble and gasp, clutching at his arm through his rapidly soaking shirt. In the pause it took for him to steady himself, Ganon had crawled up onto the second floor like some ginormous spider. It looked ready to pounce on him and, Hylia above, there was nowhere he could hide. It would crush him easily.
But it did not crush him. He wished it had, because it aimed the rapid red dot of a guardian’s laser on his chest, sending a spiral of panic through his spine and into his stomach, where it curled and lurched and made him want to vomit. He raised his shield, but the blast sent him spiraling through the air until his back hit a solid beam, knocking the wind right out of him. The Master Sword was sprawled uselessly out of his grip and he reached blindly for it, but his supporting arm slipped out from underneath him and his head hit the ground with a sickening crack. His vision was blurred. He wondered why he could see something walking towards him, something far smaller than the Calamity. It was Hylia, perhaps, coming to resolve his hideous fate at last. He tried to summon Mipha’s Grace, tried to will the strength back into his body, to will the excruciating pain away, but then Hylia was crouched before him, and her fingers felt so lovely and comforting in his hair that he wanted to fall headlong into her touch. He wanted to let her take him away.
“That’s it,” she cooed softly, brushing the bangs from his forehead. The motion was so jarringly familiar, the voice was haunting—this was not Hylia. “My dear Hero, look what they’ve done to you.”
Link choked on his attempt to speak, trying with everything in him to move, to take her hand, to see her clearly, but her hands pushed him gently back to the Sanctum floor and he groaned, his voice strained with pain.
“It’s alright, Link,” the figure assured him, threading her fingers through his hair again like she was trying to subdue him. “The pain will fade soon, I promise. Can you do something for me?”
Death must’ve been approaching. He tried to nod, to tell her he would do anything for her, but the heavy ache in his head made it hard to do much of anything. She must’ve gotten his answer somehow, though, because her hands were cupping his face.
“You have to let go,” she whispered, her thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “Let go, Link, and I will catch you.”
She sounded so sweet, so incredibly lovely, and she felt so warm. Link felt his body relax, going completely still beneath her hands, and he wondered, vaguely, if they had all been wrong. If she was not sealed, but dead, ever waiting for her knight to join her so that she may be the one to welcome him into the afterlife. Princess Zelda’s green eyes came into clarity for no longer than a second, but comfort washed over him and he was quite happy that, for a second time, she was the last thing he was going to see.
There was a high pitched ringing in his ears and his head was swimming. Link tried to fight the grogginess that kept his eyes from opening, but he had very little success when the light was painful and his head was pounding. He raised a hand to rub his eyes, but the rough and tattered surface of what must’ve been a rope rubbed against his wrists, leaving them stinging with a brush burn he already knew would scar. That was his first indication that this was not his only time fighting his way back to consciousness. The pain brought him a little more clarity, even with the panic welling up in his chest.
He could see the Sanctum floor below his head, but trying to turn it to get a better look at his surroundings made him wince and squeeze his eyes shut again. He took a shaky, shuddering breath and, in one quick motion, tried to force himself to sit up. All he’d managed to do was make himself dizzy. His vision swam again, leaving him vulnerable and impaired, and he could do nothing but lie there as still as possible, waiting for the feeling to leave. When it did, it took the ringing in his ears with it.
He heard soft humming instead, backed by the horrid squelching of malice and a rumbling that chilled him to his core. Link tried slowly to tilt his head and immediately wished he hadn’t, because Calamity Ganon was among the last of things he needed to see right now. The beast was sitting, if one could even call it that, on the floor just below a balcony, right across the room from him. It seemed content to just sit there, watching him through orange, evil eyes. He tugged on the restraints again, sending another spike of pain down his spine, but he was stuck. Should it pounce, he would be done for.
But it didn’t. It sat there, staring him down. He thought he could make out a smile, cruel and unsettling and awful. It unhinged its jaw then and made a noise, a screech of unimaginable volume, and Link curled in on himself with a quiet whimper.
“I was just beginning to wonder when our guest would come out of his slumber.”
His eyes opened, wide and wild, and he tilted his head up towards where he thought the voice had come. There, sitting on a throne in the deck above the Calamity, sat Princess Zelda. It was the first time he’d seen her clearly in over a century. He could not breathe then, choked by his swell of emotions and the scratchiness of his throat.
“Then again,” she continued, tilting her head with a cruelly beautiful smile, “our little hero is prone to sleeping in. Do be gentle with him, Ganon, and try to keep your patience.”
Those words meant nothing to him, but the Calamity turned its ugly head back towards Link and growled. Zelda clicked her tongue, beckoning the beast into silence, and it struck a horror into Link so deep that he felt the ache in every joint of his body.
Calamity Ganon was obeying her.
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masterlist | whumptober by day | whumptober by collection | original post
#whumptober2021#no.1#bound#you have to let go#legend of zelda#fic#survivor's guilt#trauma#gore#injury#burn#blood#head injury#nausea#acceptance of death#loss of consciousness#manipulation#corrupt!zelda#zelink#i feel like i have too many tags#can never be too safe i guess#idk im new to this#botw#that too
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Saturday Challenge: Continue a Fic You Wrote for Jasonette July
Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Continue a fic you wrote for Jasonette July Rated: M (for violence and strong language)
Then Perish : Part 2
Marinette tossed the helmet aside, she glanced over at the desk and grabbed a letter opener. She tried to take several swipes at him, all of which he evaded with ease before grabbing her by the wrist. Marinette tried to drop the letter opener into her other hand but he caught it before she did. “Nice try, mind telling me why you’re so desperate to kill me?” he asked, Marinette could just about hear him smirking under the mask. Up close, she noticed that, in addition to his dark hair, there was a white streak of hair framing his face. His eyes were still covered by the domino mask as they looked down at her. “You killed my parents,” she growled. “So is that what this is all about…tell me, what makes you so sure that I did it?” he asked. “I saw you, I saw people begging for their lives just before you killed them.” she recalled, “I saw you standing over their dead bodies.” He pushed her back with very little effort, but before she could charge at him again, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. He tossed it to her and she caught it, the cold metal felt heavy in her small hands. “If you are so certain that I’m the one who did it,” he said, “then let the punishment fit the crime.” Marinette looked down at the gun in her hands, she knew exactly what he was asking her to do. She took aim with the gun, her hands shook as she pointed it at the Red Hood. Her eyes were wide, her hands were shaking, she tried to steel herself. She tried to ignore the voice in her head telling her that something wasn’t right. It couldn’t be this easy, there had to be a catch, a struggle, something. She brought her other hand to the gun, trying to hold it steady. She hoped he couldn’t hear her heart hammering in her chest, she tried not to think about how frightened or nervous she was at that moment. Meanwhile the Red Hood remained calm, beckoning her to shoot him. “Come on I’m right, here, need me to draw a bullseye?” he taunted. Marinette squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the trigger, she heard a loud BANG, followed by silence. She slowly cracked open an eye to see her target. “You missed.” Red Hood remarked. Marinette tried to make another shot, but the gun went CLICK, it was empty. She looked down at the empty gun in her hand, before glaring up at the Red Hood.
“Look kid, you’re after the wrong guy. I’m not the one who killed your parents.” he explained.
Marinette eyed him suspiciously “More lies.” she scoffed as she glared at him.
“Fine, but the camera doesn't lie,” he walked over to the laptop on his desk and pushed a button. A projector screen appeared and began playing footage from a camera during that fateful shootout. Red Hood continued typing away, until he found the right camera to see the events unfold. “There, camera 5.” he finished typing and turned to watch the footage with her.
Marinette stared at the footage, her eyes widening in shock. She saw their final moments and it made her heart ache. She watched them go looking for her while she was helping other people as Ladybug. She wondered if she had left those people to die in Park Row, would her parents still be alive and well? She watched her parents run into some mobster with a gun, he tried to mug them. Her father tried using his large size to threaten the mobster, but he had a gun and her father didn't. Tom Dupain was then shot in the head, Sabine held his dead body begging for the mobster to spare her.
Upon hearing her mother’s cries of mercy, Marinette dropped the gun and fell to her knees. Her hands were balled into fists, trying to latch onto the carpeted floor beneath her. There were tears dripping down to her cheeks and clouding her vision. Even so, she could not bring herself to look away, she had to know who this man was. The man then shot Sabine in the head. He ran away, just as the Red Hood showed up on camera to inspect the unfortunate couple who walked past Park Row.
Marinette wailed as the video footage ended, “No more, please no more,” she cried. “<Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry.>” she cried to herself in French.
Jason watched the girl cry her heart out after watching her parents get murdered. He couldn’t blame her, no one could. He sat on his desk, as she continued crying. He brought up zoomed camera footage and a mugshot up on screen. Once he was done he stepped in front of her.
The Red Hood standing right in front of Marinette was enough to stop her from crying, she looked up. “You want the man who killed your parents?” he asked. Marinette could only nod. “Luca Angelo, known associate of the Falcone Crime Family.” he stepped aside and pointed to the mugshot. “Last spotted in the Falcone Slaughterhouse.”
“You want him? We’ll go together at sunrise.” he told her. Marinette stood up and nodded, wiping her tears on her sleeve. “All right Suzie’ll bring you back to your room, they’ll pick you up again later.” Marinette then left the room, escorted by Suzie Su.
Jason looked over at his window viewing the Gotham Skyline. “I know you’re there Batman, come on in, it's unlocked.” Batman emerged from the shadows.
"Isn't she the French girl that was in GCPD a few weeks ago?" Asked Batman, staring straight at Jason.
"Yup" said Red Hood, "Sent back to Paris, if I remember correctly. Came back to Gotham thinking I was the one to kill her parents." Red Hood shrugged and sat on his chair, feet resting on his desk.
“She could have killed you.” Batman pointed out. “It’s nice to know you care, Bruce.” Jason said sarcastically, “You saw what happened there, she couldn’t even get a scratch on me.” he explained. “Not without her powers anyway,” he thought. “She could have killed me...just like how I could have killed the Penguin.” Jason told him. Batman sighed, remembering how Jason explained that the Penguin didn’t really die the night that he shot him. One of these days, Jason was going to give him a heart attack with all the elaborate stunts that he pulled.
"Why are you two going to the Falcone Slaughterhouse?" Batman asked, as Jason poured himself a drink.
"Closure." Jason told him, "You and Dick should know how important closure is when you lose your parents."
"Luca Angelo is dead." Batman stated, "That gang war was unsanctioned by the Falcones, they killed him to appease you and the Maronis."
"You're right, but she'll need to learn that herself.” Jason nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his drink. “At that moment she’ll have to make a choice, whether or not she wants to find peace or let her vengeance spiral out of control?” “That’s quite a risk to take,” Batman pointed out, “what makes you so sure she won’t choose the latter?” His eyes fell on the helmet that lay discarded on the floor. “Call it a calculated risk,” he said “sometimes you just have to give people a chance.” Batman narrowed his eyes, Jason looked back at him over the rim of his glass as he took another sip.
"Fine," Batman relented. "but I'll be there to watch you two." “Say hi to Yo-Yo Girl for me, next time you see her.” Jason said nonchalantly, “She was a huge help getting people to safety that night.” “Yo-Yo Girl?” Batman asked, Jason looked up and cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry, thought she was one of yours,” he said, before finishing the last of his drink. Batman decided not to ask anything more about it, before he crept back into the shadows and vanished. That morning, Marinette opened the Miracle box and took out Tikki’s earrings. Tikki gave her a sad look, “Are you sure about this, Marinette?” she asked in a soft voice. “I saw the man who really killed my parents,” Marinette told her, “if I let him walk free, all this would have been for nothing.” Tikki sighed but had no choice but to comply. “Spots on” she said, she transformed into Ladybug, ready to face the real culprit. When she stepped out onto the rooftop, Red Hood was waiting for her. He turned to see the Yo-Yo Girl who was getting civilians to safety that night, it explained how she managed to avoid meeting her parents’ fate that night. Still, this should be interesting. “So you got a name or is it really just ‘Yo-Yo Girl’?” he asked. “Ladybug,” she told him, “let's get this over with.” she said. Red Hood grappled away and Ladybug followed with a very creative use of her yo-yo.
Later, Red Hood and Ladybug snuck into Falcone Slaughterhouse. The pungent smell of blood gave Ladybug the sinking feeling that livestock wasn’t the only meat that was cut up here. They quietly knocked out the guards as they made their way in. Red Hood pointed to the door with a sign above the said "Foreman". He then kicked the door down, and they quickly subdued the two guards in the room.
"What the fuck?!" cried the foreman as Ladybug ran up and bashed his head with an ashtray.
She wrapped the string of her yo-yo around the foreman's neck. "Where is Luca Angelo?!" she yelled.
"Rat-faced Luca? Motherfucker's already minced meat by now!" the foreman laughed.
"W-what?" Ladybug stuttered, “No, you’re lying!” she yelled. This had to be a trick, he was probably hiding somewhere, relishing in the memory of making her parents feel helpless. She would not be so easily defeated.
"Are ya deaf? He's dead." The foreman drew a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Ladybug. A shuriken then hit the gun, knocking it away from his hand.
Ladybug tightened her grip on the wire. As she was strangling the man her hands shook as rage consumed her. The man gasped and struggled for air, but she held it tight. “Please” he croaked, “have mercy.”
“Why should I show you any? My parents were shown none!” Ladybug growled, baring her teeth. She pulled the string tighter, as if she was garroting the man. She pictured how her parents had suffered, her mother’s cries for mercy echoed in her mind.
“Please...I..have..a..daughter.” The foreman barely managed to speak, he tried to paw at the wire with his hands but it wouldn’t budge. Ladybug paused, she looked at her reflection in the window. She had seen what she had become.
Shame and guilt filled her as the man became limp. She let go of her yo-yo, and released the man. She brought her hands to her mouth as she stumbled back in fear and guilt. What would Tikki, Alya and her parents feel if they knew she had blood on her hands? Her breathing became more rapid as panic set in.
Red Hood calmly walked over, placed two fingers on his neck. “He ain’t dead.” he commented. Ladybug ran, tears streaking down her cheeks. Red Hood didn’t follow, he knew she needed time alone to think. He hoped what she saw was enough to give her closure. He tried to be optimistic that Ladybug would not walk the path of vengeance, but he wasn’t known for his optimism. Roy would have known what to say to her, but thinking of Roy at all made his heart sink.
Ladybug ran, she had no clue where she was or where she was going, she just needed to be alone. She didn’t know how long or how far she had traveled, she just found a secluded rooftop. “Spots off” she muttered, Tikki didn’t say a word as she looked up at her. They sat on the edge of the roof, watching Gotham at night. They both sat in absolute silence, as Marinette came to terms with the tempest of thoughts, guilt and anger that stirred in her mind. She wondered if she could bring herself to use the Ladybug Miraculous again? If she could trust herself not to lash out at innocent people? A part of her began to question if she was even fit to be Guardian of the Miraculous?
“I almost killed an innocent man,” Marinette croaked, tears welled up in her eyes. “I don't know what to do Tikki, the man who killed Maman and Papa is already dead. It still hurts.” she cried harder.
Tikkie floated in front of Marinette’s face. Marinette didn’t even try to look at her through the sheen of tears in her eyes, “Marinette, I know, everyone needs time to grieve and move on.” Tikki told her, trying her best to comfort her.
“How, how can I move on? What should I do now? Go to Shanghai and live there?” Marinette asked.
“Maybe I can help,” came a voice from behind. Tikki zoomed straight to Marinette’s pocket and hid in there. The figure walked up to her and took a seat beside her on the edge of the roof.
The man wore a leather jacket, looked like he was a few years older than her, and he held a takeaway bag with him. She was about to ask who he was until she recognised that distinctive white streak of hair. Her eyes widened as he handed her the bag.
“Go on, dig in,” he said, pushing the bag towards her. She apprehensively took the bag from him until the scent of freshly baked bread hit her nose. “I had a friend make those for you, he’s an amazing chef and baker.” he told her, “Don’t eat his waffles though, they taste like paste.”
Marinette gave a small chuckle at his joke, “Thank you” she quietly said. She opened and tearfully ate the baked goods. They were just as good as her father’s baking.
“There’s not much left for you in Paris, and I know you don’t want to go to Shanghai. Why don’t you stay here in Gotham?” He asked.
Marinette paused to think, she had no plans on what to do after she had her revenge. She had just spiraled into obsession. He was right, she had nothing left in Paris, and Shanghai would be a struggle to start all over.
“I know you’re underage, why don’t I be your Guardian until you’re 18?” He suggested, “Then you can swing away and do whatever you want.” Jason thought she could do a lot worse for a Guardian, besides, Batman and Catwoman weren’t the only ones who were allowed to take orphans under their wing.
Marinette stayed quiet, thinking of her options. It was either Shanghai or Gotham. After a few minutes of contemplation, she nodded her head.
“Name’s Jason, Jason Todd.” He held out his hand.
Marinette shook his hand, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but I guess you already knew that.”
“You don't have to call me ‘Daddy’ unless you want to,” Jason Joked. Marinette wrinkled her nose and playfully shoved him away. For the first time since her parents died, she actually smiled. “I’m already a Guardian myself” she said, “but I always wanted an older brother.” “I have one, trust me it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he said. They sat in silence for a long moment, “so what’s the story with you and Ladybug?” he asked. “I helped one old guy across the street, and he decided that was a good enough reason to make me a superhero.” she explained, “I had to fight against a villain who was using people’s negative emotions to control them.” “Well, good thing he hasn’t found his way here, plenty of those going around in a city like this.” he said, trying to make her feel better. “How about you?” she asked, “Were you always this big bad crime lord?” She said the last part as if it was merely a facade or the stuff of legend. “My dad was sent to jail when I was a kid, my mom didn’t last that long after that,” he told her, “so I spent a few years living on the streets of Gotham.” “Was it always like this?” she asked, her childhood in Paris was already looking rosier by comparison. “Gotham? Almost certainly.” Jason told her, “When I was 13, I thought I’d be joining my old man in prison sooner or later, before I met the Bat himself.” Marinette’s eyes widened, she remembered hearing Alya gush about Batman and his various sidekicks over the years. “I thought he’d just beat me up for trying to steal the wheels off of the Batmobile, instead he gave me a hot meal and a place to call home.” he told her. “You’re looking at the second Robin,” he said. Judging by the sad smile he had on his face, Marinette could tell this story didn’t have a happy ending. “So, what happened?” she asked cautiously, he took a deep breath as he tried to find the words. On the one hand, the last thing he wanted, the last thing anyone needed, was this girl making the same stupid mistakes that he did. On the other hand, she had been through enough, it would have to be a story for another time. “That’s a story for another day,” he decided “but I promise you, one day I’ll tell it.” Marinette looked down at the city streets before her, it was a far cry from Paris, but maybe one day she would come to see it as home. Batman watched the two of them from a distance and smiled slightly. Maybe this girl would keep Jason from going too far down the treacherous path he was on, much like Tim had done all those years ago after he lost Jason. Only time will tell if that proved to be true, but for now he was pleased to see the two of them getting along. He grappled away, leaving the two of them to talk, laugh and joke with each other.
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Fuck, Marry, Kill (part 2)
Summary: After kissing your dad’s co-worker at a party, the two of you meet again and discuss the events.
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader
Warnings: age gap (reader is in college) , fingering, handjob, use of the word daddy, dirty talk
part 1
One week. No text message. Nothing.
No one knew about the events that spiraled from last week’s party. However, the attitude that you presented told another story. You were grumpy, annoyed, and even sad... And you hated it. It was Bucky’s fault. You needed to talk to him.
That’s how you found yourself sat in your dad’s office, doing meaningless paper work for him. You somehow convinced your parents that your strange attitude was due to the fact that you hated being indoors all day since coming home from college. You needed a new “scenery”. The great scenery of your father’s office.
“I’m not going to be able to drive you home...” your father’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts.
You watched as your father checked his watch. “Actually, Barnes shift ends now, I’m sure he can drive you home.” Your head shot up from your desk and your back straightened. It was the last thing you wanted to hear your father say.
“I’ll call him into the office...” Your father quickly went to dial a number to connect to Bucky’s office. He spoke quietly to Bucky’s secretary. You swallowed thickly, tidying up your area, waiting for Bucky’s arrival as the minutes went by. Why would he even agree? He’s been ignoring you for days.
“Hey, is everything alright Mr. L/N” Bucky’s head stuck into the room as his eyes slightly widened at the sight of you. You quickly locked eyes with him. He scratched the back of his neck before turning his attention back to your father.
“Y/N decided to tag along today but I’m staying late. Think you could take her home for me—?”
Your father looked up from his paperwork. Bucky stuffed his hands awkwardly in his pockets and nodded.
“Y-yeah, of course...” his voice cracked lightly but he cleared it up with a cough.
“Are you ready, Y/N?” Your name rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, your father didn’t even feel the tension happening underneath.
Bucky leaned against the doorway, his eyes wandered back to yours. He took in your figure shamelessly. The short skirt and blouse already creating an uncomfortable situation for him. You nodded meekly, waving goodbye to your father as you followed Bucky out the room.
As you headed towards the elevator, you mentally cursed yourself. Calm down. What’s the worst that could happen? If it’s awkward, you’ll just take an Uber.
Bucky’s eyes lightly glanced over you as he pressed the elevator button. The two of you were alone for the first time. You wanted him to say something. Anything but, it was silent. The only thing heard was the crappy elevator’s holiday music. Once the elevator dinged, Bucky walked out.
Your legs wobbled slightly, as you followed him.
Bucky walked towards his car and opened the passenger door for you. You looked up at him, his expression on his face was vague. You quickly slid into the car as Bucky closed it and rounded the car to the driver’s seat. The awkward silence was dawning.
“So... are we going to talk about what happened?” You broke the ice first and Bucky sighed lightly, fumbling with the car keys in his hands.
“I’d rather not.”
“You never texted me back—! Are you mad at me?” You slightly yelled, immediately becoming embarrassed by the sudden change in your voice.
Bucky ran his fingers through his hair and raised his hands up in defense. His face softening as he looked at you.
“Come on, Y/N I’m not mad at you. I can never be mad at you— but you have to know why I didn’t text you.”
“We kissed—“
Bucky stopped you right there. His hands clutched his keys to turn on the ignition which in return overpowered your low voice. His arm stretched out over your seat, as he pulled out of the parking spot and headed onto the road.
He spoke lowly. “And that’s never going to happen again.”
Of course, he would fucking said that.
Bucky had been calling the shots for one week. But, It was your turn now.
“Yeah, right” You scoffed, turning your body to face towards him. You folded your arms, as you stared him down. He drove with one hand and then turned his head slightly at you. He chuckled lightly at your ‘annoyed’ face.
To him, you looked adorable. He missed you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He casually lit a cigarette as the car stopped at a red light. You watched as his teeth wrapped around the substance inhaling for some time and then blowing it out. He knew exactly what he was doing.
On the other end of Bucky’s poised face, however, was a man who was just as afraid as you. Anxious. It’s the reason why he never texted you back. He thought about you each and everyday. Playing different scenarios in his head. Each one never forming a happy outcome for the both of you.
“What I’m trying to say is you can’t just pretend like nothing ever happened, Bucky. Ignoring me for one week is extremely childish. I’m the one in college, not you. God, I should of known all men are the same, doesn’t matter their age-”
You rolled your eyes, finally looking out the window. As you turned your head, you noticed that Bucky was driving in a different from your house.
Bucky listened to you as he drove silently down the road recalling the moments from the past week.
He tried to push away these new feelings for you. Bucky even invited a random girl he met back to his place. But, for the first time, he couldn’t even get hard. It was embarrassing.
“That’s a new one! What the hell is going on with you? Do I have to take you the doctor? Like, I know you’re old but you’re not THAT old“ Sam chuckled lightly as he took a sip of his beer at Bucky’s house.
“Shut up, punk. You just don’t understand” Bucky trailed off, cringing as he remembered his date storming out of his place.
“This is not the way to my house.”
“I know that” You watched the road become smaller and the lanes turn into empty masses of land. Eventually he pulled into a secluded place which captured the view of the city.
He planned on taking you here sometime this week but the opportunity already granted itself. It was supposed to be a talk where you’d both promise to forget about the night of the party. Go back to how everything was, but he was weaker than he thought.
He couldn’t push his feelings away anymore.
“You’re right...” he mumbled, parking the car and burning the cigarette against the ashtray. He sighed softly before looking at you. It was the first time in a week since he was able to take in all of your features.
“What?”
C‘mere” his hands slid across the seat and patted it lightly, your tongue awkwardly fiddled against your mouth. You unhook your seatbelt and scooted over. The two of your staring at one another. His eyes flickered down to your lips.
Before you could ask him what he meant, Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips gently against yours. It was sweet and gentle at first. Almost, like he was trying to say sorry. But, It didn’t take any time until the kiss turned into a full blown make-out session. Your hands finding their way into his hair as he cupped your face, his tongue exploring your mouth. He missed this. You missed this. It was intoxicating.
Your hand trailed down his chest until they stopped at his jeans, surprisingly a bulge forming against his jeans. You pulled away breathlessly, his eyes half lidded filled with a new found happiness staring back at you.
“Do you want this?” He mumbled.
Of course you wanted this. It’s been one whole week of waiting for a response. You weren’t going to back out now.
“I do...”
“Then come back here, baby...”
The name sent goosebumps down your spine. He grabbed your hand and brought it back to his budge. You squeezed it lightly causing him to groan. His lips pressed soft kisses onto your neck as his hands began to unzip your jeans and tug them until your panties was exposed to him.
His fingers pressed against your panties and he licked his lips. “You’re soaking... is this for me?” You whimpered, working to take off his jeans. He helped you by tugging them past his ass. The size from his outline startling you a bit. You courageously leaned down and pressed a kiss against his boxers.
Bucky sucked in a breath before pulling you back by your hair. You whined lightly but as his fingers rubbed you through your panties, you quickly got the memo.
“If we do that, I don’t think you’ll get home before your father. That can wait another time, baby, like when you’re on my bed or my couch. ” he winked. So, he wanted this to become a reoccurrence..
As Bucky pulled his cock out, your breath hitched at the sight. It was a shame he wouldn’t let you wrap your mouth around it.
“You’re so big” you blurted, wrapping your hand around his shaft. He sucked in his bottom lip before tugging your panties down, wasting no time to tease your folds. His middle finger circled your opening before collecting the wetness and sucking it off his finger. As he did this, his eyes bored into yours. The action alone could make you cum.
“And you taste sweet. God, can’t wait until I can eat this pretty pussy”
“I’m sure it will be sooner than you think, daddy”
With the amount of nerves you had, you couldn’t control that mouth of yours. Blurting out every thought was your last resort Hopefully, he didn’t mind your new nickname for him.. But, as you looked up from pumping Bucky’s cock, a smirk grew on his face as so did small grunts fall from his mouth.
You tried to cover up your nerves by continuing to pleasure the man you had a crush on for the longest. You leaned down and spat on his cock, the salvia dribbling down to create a sort of lube. Your hand quickly pumping his shaft and massaging his balls.
“What was that you called me, pretty girl?” Bucky hissed from your actions as his thumb rubbed your clit at a pleasurable pace, his middle finger ready to fuck you.
“Daddy...” you moaned.
“Shit— already calling me daddy... I don’t think your father is going to like that” He teased.
“You want daddy to finger this pretty pussy. Make you cum... hmm?” Bucky grunted in your ear which made you whimper as his fingers thrusted into you with one swift movement, his other hand holding onto your hips.
“Feels so good!” You bucked into his hand, and Bucky stared down at the scene in front of him. He never knew he could be so turned on from your small hand stroking him and your moans. His head already thrown back against the chair as he thrusted a second finger into you.
“You’re clenching, baby... already close, huh?” His fingers thrusted faster, as his palm collided with your clit. He pulled your body closer as he lips sucked onto your neck. You could start to feel Bucky twitch within your hand, signaling he was not too far either. He started to take the lead and thrust into your hand.
“God, why didn’t we do this sooner?” He hummed against your skin, his lips continued to attack your skin. A big bruise would sure form by tomorrow. Good thing, you just brought a new concealer. His fingers curled inside you, hitting the sweet spot that only one of your ex’s could ever find.
“Agh—Bucky... think I’m close—“ you played with his balls in an effort to get him to release at the same time with you. Your release hurrying by the second.
“Yeah, baby. I’m right with you. Let go-“ your mouth hung open as the wave of pleasure took over your body. Bucky slipped his tongue in your mouth, as his fingers pumped you through your high. His cock thrusted into your hand wildly, as he pulled away slightly.
“Fuck, Y/N!!” With one shout, Bucky was a goner, his seed shooting against your mound. You bit your lip at the sight in front of you, your hands going to his shoulders. For some reason, you needed to be close to him, preferably wrapped in his arms.
As exhausted as Bucky was he hooked his arms under your legs and settled you on his lap. You smiled, falling into the crook of his neck. The two of you panting in a state of bliss. He pulled some of your hair away, to leave feather light kisses on your neck and shoulder.
His hands trailed up your body until they cupped your face. You bit your lip staring at the man who was only a few inches away from you.
“I’m sorry for not texting you. I was thinking...”
“You were thinking.” You mimicked back raising your eyebrow, already frowning at his answer. He chuckled softly at your face, shaking his head before kissing your nose to reassure you that it was going to be good answer. You scrunched your nose lightly, playing with the hair on his neck.
“Yes. About us.” He explained.
“Go on...”
He tucked the loose strands of hair behind your ear before speaking. “I’m willing to make this work, if you are.” You smiled at his words.
“I want this to work but what about my parents...” you mumbled slightly, the most important factor barely being discussed.
He stroked your cheek and sighed. “Well, baby, we can tell them when we are ready.”
“There’s no need to rush, don’t you think I should take you out on a few dates first to see if you actually like me” he said playfully which made you giggle. Okay, he had a point.
“But, how will I be able to see you all the time without them being ya- know.. suspicious?” He smirked slightly, already having an answer for that.
“I do need a new secretary...”
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader smut
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save me a dance // n.l.
summary: Hi!! Could I please request a Neville x Slytherin! Reader? She has a kind soul and became friends with Hermione (who’s the only person that knows about her crush on Neville), but she kept her distance because she knew about what happened to his parents. She goes to the Yule ball with another Slytherin that eventually ditched her, so she sneaks into the kitchens and hangs out with house elves until Neville comes by (knowing that she always hung out with them when she felt sad) and he confesses ^^
warnings: very brief mention of unwanted sexual advances if you squint, mentions of food
word count: 5k
a/n: my first neville fic!!! i’m so excited for you all to read it, i had so much fun writing it :)
[i do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other platform]
For what felt like the hundredth time, you woke up to the same view; your Yule Ball dress hanging loosely over the four poster bed, the sunlight streaming through the fabric and onto your chunky bed sheets.
The dress was quite stunning, but Godric, did you dread wearing it. You didn’t exactly feel like dancing the night away alongside some Slytherin bloke while you looked around at all the happy couples, wishing ever so desperately that that could have been you. That you could be the one dancing the night away with the person who had captured your heart effortlessly.
Unfortunately, that plan hadn’t exactly fallen into place. Hermione had done her best to help you out in getting him to ask you, but you ended up being put on the spot when a Slytherin boy named Jasper had asked you during Transfigurations. So, you had said yes, but deep down, that regret was starting to multiply by the second.
You let out a groan, tossed your head back against the pillow, and lifted the warm comforter off of your body. The fireplace in the centre of the room was still crackling away, but within the stone walls of the castle, the cold seemed to never fully fade.
So you threw on your house sweater, your scarf, robe, and a pair of trousers, before heading down to start the day. The snow was accumulating rather quickly outside as Christmas drew nearer, rendering you quite glad that you brought your scarf.
“At least you’re prepared,” Hermione mumbled as the two of you made your way to Divinations, “It’s always freezing in Professor Trewlaney’s room! Oh, how I wish I could have brought mine. Rather silly of me.”
You chuckled, keeping your eyes on the long winding staircase as you responded to her, “Not to worry, I’m sure Ron has a sweater you can borrow.”
Though you weren’t facing her, you could practically feel her eye roll as she scoffed, “Very funny. Such a clever idea. You really are filled with those.”
“I’m just saying,” you turned back to face her quickly before pulling down the ladder to the Divination classroom, “I’m sure he’d think you look amazing in it. Isn’t that what guys like? When their girlfriends wear their clothing?”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” she shushed you as you climbed up, “Be quiet!”
You apologized with a laugh as you climbed into the classroom and made your way to your usual seat at the front by the window, Hermione coming over to join you. Harry and Ron were seated not too far away, but that didn’t really matter to you. From across the class, you spotted Neville.
He was accompanied by Seamus — who seemed quite interested in the tablecloth at the moment — but you so wished that you could be the one sitting across from him.
His vest hung loosely against his body and his dark hair was littering his forehead, eyes scrunched shut as he let out a yawn. As he opened them, you noticed they darted in your direction before snapping away.
You felt a frown form on your lips. Why did he look away so fast? Instinctively, you raised a hand to the top of your head to check if there was anything in your hair.
“What are you doing?” Hermione asked as she dug through her bag, placing the heavy Divinations book on top of the circular table. The book, with its golden lettering, seemed to twinkle under the pink hues of the morning sky.
You shrugged, “Nothing.”
Her eyes followed to where you had previously been looking, and she let out a sigh, “Relax. You look wonderful. There’s nothing to fix.”
You sulked back into your chair, “Hermione, he asked Ginny to the ball. Don’t try to continue your matchmaking.”
She leaned forward on the table, pushing her thick hair behind her shoulder, “Doesn’t mean you don’t stand a chance. Look, I like Ginny, but maybe they’re going as friends. Like you and Jasper.”
“I think Jasper has more than friendship on his mind,” you muttered under your breath, thinking back to the way his hands lingered on your lower back a little too long after you agreed to be his date.
She gave you a sympathetic glance, opening her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Trewlaney announcing her presence. The class began shortly after, and you spent the time reading Hermione’s palm and deciphering what your own dreams meant.
According to the textbook, you were going to stumble upon a lot of money as well as possibly fall down a sewer within the next week. Nothing new, really. It was better than Harry’s, who once again, was told he was doomed for death in the coming months.
As the class ended, you stuffed the books and parchment into your backpack and thanked Trelawney for the lesson, following Hermione out of the room. As you made your way to the ladder, you spotted a little red ball on the ground.
You crouched to pick it up, immediately recognizing it as Neville’s remembrall. How oddly convenient that it land right at your feet.
“Oh, thanks,” he muttered as you turned to hand it to him, fingers brushing against his as you placed it in his palm, “This thing likes to try and escape.”
You grinned at him, “You should keep it safe in your dorm.” You tried your best to keep your voice steady as you spoke to him, which was odd, really. Why did you always become so nervous around Neville, who was one of the shyest, kindest people you’d ever met? Crushes were quite strange.
He gave you a small smile and a shrug, “I like to carry it on me. It’s from my nan. I don’t want to leave it behind.”
Your chest felt like it was going to swell at his words, “That’s really sweet. I’m sure she appreciates that you care for it so much.”
As you turned back to face the ladder, Hermione gave you a quick wink and a thumbs up before darting away with Harry and Ron, clearly insinuating that you should walk with Neville. You mentally scolded her before making your way to it, Neville not far behind.
“She does,” he said, fondness clear in his voice, “It’s not like I get anything from my parents, so I cherish anything I get from my family in general.”
Your heart sunk in your chest. Neville had always been very closed off when talking about his family — especially his parents — so the way he mentioned them so casually had you doubting what to say next. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by continuing the topic, nor did you want to brush it off like it was nothing.
“I’m sorry,” you said, facing him once the two of you began going down the spiral staircase, “I can imagine it’s difficult. But your nan clearly cares a lot, and she’s lucky to have you.”
His ears turned slightly pink at your words and you had to fight a grin.
The next few minutes were silent until Neville once again turned to face you. There was something about him that always seemed optimistic, despite the fact that he had just spoken a bit about the difficult situation with his parents. Whether it be the smile on his face or the sparkle in his eye, you couldn’t be sure what it was. But Merlin, did you ever adore it.
“She sent me my suit for the Yule Ball, actually,” he said, a bit of a hop in his step as he said the words, “It doesn’t fit perfectly but I’m sure it’ll last the night.”
You let out a small laugh, “That’s awfully sweet of her. I’m sure you’ll look dashing.”
As you said the words, you regretted them instantly. Well, not so much regretted — you meant every syllable — but more so, you wished you could currently fall into the sewer that Trelawney had predicted you’d stumble into.
Throwing out a compliment like that was quite possibly the last thing you wanted to do. Would he react badly? Would he think you were coming onto him? Would this change things?
Were you overthinking?
The corners of his lips curled up into a shy smile and he gave you a nod and cut you short of your internal rambling, “Are you excited?”
Yeah, definitely overthinking.
You let out a sigh, trying to move past your embarrassment and continue your walk to your next class, dodging a few passing students, “Kind of. I’m excited for the music. Not so much the dancing. I’m not very good at that.”
He chuckled, “I wasn’t either. I taught myself, actually. In my room. The lads loved to make fun of that.”
The image of Neville dancing away in the cramped boys’ dorm brought a smile to your face.
“You’ve already got a step up on me, then,” you faced him, “Get ready to watch me humiliate myself on the dance floor.”
You stepped a little closer to him as a group of Ravenclaw pushed past in a rush, and Neville’s hand reached for your arm to help steady you.
“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling away and avoiding your gaze, “But anyways, I’m sure you’re not as bad as you think. Ginny has never danced either, so you won’t be the only one.”
You tried your best to push past the surge of jealousy that washed over you. You already knew he was going with Ginny — hell, you’d know for a while now — but it did not make it any easier to hear. Especially coming from him.
“I didn’t expect you’d ask her,” you admitted, “but I’m sure you’ll both have a wonderful time. She’ll have a good leader to help her maneuver the moves.”
You gave his shoulder a small nudge, trying to act like you weren’t drowning in your own feelings. The thought of Neville holding Ginny close to his body as they swayed to the romantic music nearly made you sick. You liked Ginny a great deal, she was such a sweet girl with a fierce attitude that you admired, but you really wished Neville had asked you instead.
“We’re just going as friends,” he said, “I was going to ask someone else but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I’m pretty sure Ginny was also interested in another person in the first place.”
You tried your best to hold back a sigh of relief. They were going as friends. That didn’t mean it would make it easier to see them together, but maybe you could push past the jealousy you felt about seeing them as a couple.
But then the next thing he said hit you; he wanted to ask someone else. Someone he was interested in romantically? Perhaps he actually did like someone, even if that someone wasn’t Ginny. Who could it be? And why were you so irritated? You didn’t even know them.
“Well,” you said, unsure of how to change the topic, “I’ll be looking out for you two on the dance floor.” You wanted so desperately to no longer speak of the Yule Ball. The thought of the night was now dizzying and had you feeling a little faint, to be completely honest.
It was going to be a long day.
— —
You were honestly quite surprised by the appearance of the Great Hall. Usually filled with long tables, chairs, and candles, it was now glistening like a winter wonderland. There was fake snow falling from the ceiling, but it never touched the ground. The room smelled faintly of pine trees and sweets, and you figured that there had to be at least seven Christmas trees littering the room.
To put it simply, the space was beautiful.
Music played softly from the dance floor ahead, and to your right, there was a small table with a few snacks and drinks. There were also quite a few seats around, already occupied by couples and friends.
“What do you want to do?”
You turned to face Jasper, who was waving over at a group of Slytherins further on the left.
“We can go dance,” you suggested, praying he wasn’t going to drag you over to his housemates. Jasper seemed alright enough, but you weren’t a fan of his obnoxious friends. You could very well go the night without hanging around them, thank you very much.
He shrugged, “Sure.”
He linked his hand in yours and tugged you along behind him, bringing you over to the dance floor. Once you got there, you noticed a few familiar faces.
Hermione and Viktor were not far away, and she gave you an excited grin before pointing at her date, who was obviously making love heart eyes in her direction. You couldn’t blame him, honestly. Further along you spotted Fred and Angelina, dancing away as if they were the only two in the room. It caused you to chuckle.
“So do you want to dance, or…?” Jasper asked, placing one of his hands on your waist.
You shivered under his touch. It wasn’t a good shiver, it was discomfort. You wanted more than anything to be dancing with Neville — who you currently spotted over with Ginny, his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders.
“Yeah,” you squeaked, awkwardly stepping closer to him before putting your arms around his neck. Your throat began to sting as you watched the two of them glide across the floor, laughing as they spoke to each other. It felt quite juxtaposed to the uncomfortable, weird situation that you found yourself currently in.
You began to sway to the music, trying your best not to dart your eyes to Neville every couple of seconds. Jasper was clearly not enjoying this, but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care what he wanted. He wasn’t going to get what he came here for and you weren’t going to be guilted into it either.
You honestly couldn’t be thankful enough as the slow song ended. You quickly pulled your arms away from him and you crossed them over your chest.
“I’m going to go get a drink,” you said, not waiting for his response before taking off to the table by the entrance. You heard him call your name as you pushed your way through students, holding the skirt of your dress in your hands to avoid being stepped on, but you didn’t look back.
There was a clearing near the table and you took a deep breath, dropping your skirt and letting out a sigh. Your shoulders slouched as you walked over and grabbed a small glass, not even sure if you were thirsty. The excuse was simply to get away from Jasper. You were regretting your decision to come here more than ever.
“I recommend the punch.”
You spun on your heel, nearly coming in contact with Neville. He was standing behind you, taking a step back after realizing how close he really was.
“Oh—,” you nodded, “Thanks.”
The punch bowl sat in front of you, glistening red under the shimmering lights. You grabbed the spoon and poured yourself a little bit, enjoying the scent of the fruity drink.
You turned back around, giving Neville a forced smile, “I’m sure it’s delicious.”
His eyebrows furrowed and he fiddled with his waistcoat, “Are you alright? I don’t mean to prod or anything.”
Your heart fluttered at his words, “Yeah, I guess I’m alright, really. Just not having a great time.”
Neville’s eyes scanned the dance floor where he spotted Jasper’s familiar blond head scanning the crowd, “I’m guessing it has something to do with your date.”
His eyes found yours again and you nodded, placing the glass down on the table behind you, “My situation is kind of like yours, I guess. You wanted to ask someone else. Well, I wanted someone else to ask me.”
You could see his shoulders sag before he frowned, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I’d say anyone would be lucky to have you as their partner, but something about him tells me he’s not enjoying himself the way he should be, being by your side and all.”
You had to fight a grin at his words. How Neville could be so awkward, yet so effortless in his words, you’d never understand. It was one of the reasons you knew you wouldn’t be getting over your crush anytime soon.
“Thanks,” you gave him a smile, looking down to the ground before meeting his eyes again, “You should go back. I don’t want to keep you from dancing.”
You could see the hesitation in his eyes as he scanned your face, but he gave a slight nod, “If ever you want to get away from him, I’ll be there to help you.”
“Thanks, Neville,” you smiled genuinely, maintaining eye contact. He stood there for a moment, looking into your eyes, and you could practically feel how reluctant he was to walk away.
As cliché and typical as it sounds, it almost felt like you were alone in the room, completely lost in his gaze. His eyes brought you comfort that nothing else could provide, and you only wished you could look into them more often. Like dancing, for example. How easily you’d find yourself lost in his eyes if you were dancing.
“No worries,” he gave you a small smile, scanned your face once more, and took off into the crowd. As you watched his head of dark hair vanish, you let out a deep breath. If life could go your way, he’d have his hand linked with yours as he led you back to the dance floor.
But life wasn’t fair like that, was it?
You completely disregarded the punch behind you, stomach feeling like it was in knots, and made your way back to where you left Jasper. Only, you couldn’t find the familiar mop of blond hair anywhere. He was rather tall, so it wouldn’t be difficult to spot him. And yet, somehow, he was nowhere to be seen.
Until you looked to the entrance door and saw him hand in hand with a ginger Slytherin girl, both of them stumbling over their feet as they made their way out.
“Well, that was fast,” you mumbled, a frown on your face.
You stood alone on the floor, couples swaying to the music around you. It kind of felt like a movie — the kind of movie where the girl gets her heart crushed by a guy, and then is ditched by another guy, and then is left alone in the end. A crappy movie, you thought, but one that seemed to fit really well right now.
The music was practically taunting you, so instead of staying put or going to finish your drink, you once again gathered your dress in your hands, and made your way out of the room.
The hallway felt a lot fresher compared to the Great Hall, but that was understandable. Hundreds of bodies in one room compared to the corridor with an open doorway to the winter air.
Though, that wasn’t where you were going. You decided you’d go down to your usual escape spot, and now that all the teachers were chaperoning the ball, you would make it there with minimal interruption.
You spotted the familiar painting by the kitchen entrance, the bowl of fruits, and raised your hand to tickle the pear. The painting swung open and you crawled through the little stone passage, making sure your dress wasn’t going to get caught, before landing on both feet on the tile floor.
“Oh! Miss Y/N!”
Dobby, donned in a little scarf and hat, waved at you from a tabletop.
“Hey, Dobby,” you grinned, “Sorry to interrupt your quiet evening in here. I didn’t know where else to go.”
He patted the table next to him, “Why did you leave so early? Dobby heard the ball was lasting all night.”
You gave him a little smile, sitting down on the stool in front of him, “Wasn’t as fun as I expected. I’d rather spend my evening here. Where is everyone else?” The stool was rather small for a human being, considering it was most likely made for an elf, but if you leaned forwards against the table and kept your feet plastered to the ground, you managed to balance just fine.
He gave a little smile and looked at you with those big eyes, “They are all tired! We have been putting the ball together for days now! They all went to bed.”
The corner of your lips curved up, “Well, now you have company, Dobby.”
He clapped his hands together and let out a little laugh, “Let me show you what Dobby found today. It was in the Gryffindor common room!”
You nodded, knowing that it was most likely a knitted hat. Hermione had been leaving those scattered around the room for a little while now. Little did she know Dobby was the one collecting them all.
As you watched his little body disappear through a small doorway on the far wall, you took a look around the kitchen. Despite the fact that you were certain they had been working non-stop in here for days on end, it was nearly spotless. Pots and pans shimmered under the candlelight, tabletops were clear, apart from a few fruit bowls and snacks. The counters were clean, as well as the floors.
If this place had windows, or maybe a little more light, you felt it would be quite nice.
You sat there silently for a little while, already beginning to feel the sadness of the evening creep in. It was quite a bummer, really. You didn’t know if you wanted to go back to your own dorm tonight or stay out wandering the halls, mind running through all the scenarios on how tonight could have gone differently, how it could have been better.
The only sound you could hear was a light creak, which you eventually realized was the painting swinging open to let someone in.
Panic began to settle in and you stood off your chair, moving to the other side of the table. You would still be very much visible if you ducked, so there was no point in doing it, but you did it anyways.
The last thing you wanted was for Snape or Moody to catch you where you shouldn’t be.
Except, the person that crawled through and landed sturdily on their feet wasn’t Snape or Moody.
It was Neville.
You popped your head back up, eyes locking with his. He looked a little disheveled in terms of his hair, and his bow tie was slightly off centre, but the smile on his face showed relief.
“Neville?” you asked, already feeling a little less panicked. You only hoped Neville was alone. The last thing you wanted was for a girl to crawl in behind him. He wasn’t that kind of guy, you knew that, but your mind went there anyways.
Thankfully, he was alone. The painting swung closed behind him and he gave you a small smile.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, walking back around to the front of the table, this time deciding not to sit on the stool.
His cheeks turned a little pink but he brushed it off and shrugged, “I saw you rush out of the room. I wanted to see if you were okay. I remember you once told me you come here when you’re upset, so I gave it a shot.”
Your mouth felt like it fell open so you shut it quickly, blinking rapidly, “I’m surprised you remembered. Only you and Hermione know about my little escape spot.”
He gave a small chuckle, stepping a little closer, “Are you alright, though? I saw you leave and I didn’t see your date anywhere.”
You gave a shrug, averting your eyes, “He left. With another girl. I wasn’t interested in him that way, but it still sucks.”
He furrowed his eyebrows and gave a shake of his head, “You’re better off without him,” he stepped a little closer, catching your attention once more, “But I get why you’re upset. Funny story, the same thing happened to me. But not in the same sense. Ginny managed to get a dance with Harry.”
You were close enough to put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry.”
Realization caught up to you and you noticed how stupid this gesture probably was, so you snatched your arm back and held it against you. Neville noticed your quick reaction and you could see his gaze fall down to the ground before meeting yours again.
Just like at the punch table, it felt as if time stood still while you looked into his eyes. You could see he looked like he wanted to say something, his stare darting back and forth between your lips and your eyes, but he didn’t say anything for a good moment.
Until one of his hands reached across and held yours. His skin was warm, and you could feel his pulse against his wrist. His heart was beating fast, and if he could feel your own pulse, he’d say the same about you.
“You look—,” he took a deep breath, “You look beautiful tonight. Well, not just tonight. You look beautiful most of the time. I’m just saying, it’s — never mind.”
Your heart seemed to stutter in your chest, goosebumps rising on your skin at his words. They had caught you so off guard that you couldn’t find a way to respond. No words seemed to find their way into your mind. All you could do was smile. A bright, genuine grin that hurt your cheeks.
“Thanks,” you let out a small laugh, linking your fingers with his, “Also, you look pretty dapper yourself. I told you you would, and I was right.”
He stepped closer, his other hand locking with your free one. It wasn’t an overtly intimate gesture — people held hands all the time — but Merlin, did you ever melt into his touch.
“Do you — Can we have a dance?”
You bit your lip to hold back your smile. How you went from standing alone on the dance floor, starring in the most depressing teen flick you’d ever heard of, to standing alone in the kitchen, your hands locked with Neville’s as the candles flickered around the two of you, you’d never know. But you were so, so grateful. And happier than you can ever remember being.
“I’d love that,” you nodded, stepping closer and resting your head against his shoulder. His hands let go of yours and went to your waist, and it felt so right. So right that you completely forgot about how it felt when Jasper was holding you instead.
Your hands went up to his neck, draping them around him and leaning into his touch. There was no music, but it almost didn’t feel necessary. The two of you began to sway slowly back and forth, the only sound being the click of your shoes as you took your steps. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about whether Dobby would walk back in any second now.
He rested his head against yours as he led the way. It wasn’t much of a dance, but it was quite possibly the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to you. You wished more than anything that you could freeze this moment and live like this forever.
“A hat! Dobby was left a hat — Oh! Hello!”
Neville pulled away instinctively and grinned awkwardly, taking a second to process what had happened before nodding his head in the direction of the house elf, “Hello, Dobby.”
You fought a grin, turning your head back to face Dobby, who was awkwardly looking between the two of you, a large knitted beanie in his hand.
“Dobby can sense he is intruding,” he muttered, giving a little bow before backing up through the door he left through before, “Good night!”
The moment had sort of been interrupted, but you didn’t move away from Neville’s touch, resting your head against his shoulder once more as your laughter died down. Of course, the curious little elf would walk in at the worst moment.
“I knew that would happen,” you laughed, tightening your grip around him a little more. He chuckled, head falling against yours. You could feel his hair tickling the side of your face, the strands unruly and curly as they brushed against your skin.
The night ended up being way better than you expected.
This one you would never forget.
——
taglist
@grierpilots @hxfflxpxffs @mikumana @msmimimerton @pit-and-the-pen @diary-of-an-onliner @thoseofgreatambition @theweasleysredhair @haphazardhufflepuff @awritingtree @thisismysketchbook @valwritesx @vogueweasley @hufflrpuffforfred @phuvioqhile @marvelettesassemble @shadowsinger11 @breadqueen95 @hahee154hq @inglourious-imagines @amourtentiaa @spacexcowgirl @lumos-barnes @gcdricreads @bolaurel
#neville longbottom#neville longbottom imagine#neville longbottom imagines#neville longbottom x reader#neville longbottom reader insert#neville longbottom one shot
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Fracture
Theo Hotchner breaks his arm.
A mini-fic set post ITSWM. (I know I haven’t finished posting that yet but I wrote some fluff for this universe because I needed the serotonin, and thought you might too.)
Rating: General
Words: 2.5k
It happens in slow motion. Aaron watches as Theo falls from the jungle gym, landing awkwardly on his arm as he hits the ground. There’s a beat of silence, a moment where Aaron thinks everything might be ok when runs over, and then his son starts crying hysterically as he sits up.
When he sees Theo’s arm, bent at an unnatural angle, his first thought is that Emily was going to kill him.
____________
Emily feels her phone ring in her pocket for the second time in as many minutes and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She knows it’s Aaron without looking, having rejected his initial call only a minute before with the intention of calling him back the minute she was free. He never calls her at work, knowing the pressure of her job since he had once done it himself.
He usually texts her, sends her a photo of the kids as they do something adorable or slightly mischievous. Photos of Amelia smiling widely at the camera, or Theo and Jack playing Mario Kart together, matching looks of concentration on their faces. They helped, reminding her of what was waiting for her when she got home from horrific case after horrific case, that despite everything she still had her family.
She’d never tell Aaron that they also hurt at times. Tiny reminders of what she missed out on when she was away.
The fact he was calling her twice in such quick succession could only mean something was wrong.
Emily looks at the team as they deliver the profile to the local detectives. Dave catches her eye and gives her a quick nod as she lifts her phone and tilts her head down a hallway.
She answers the phone just as it’s about to ring out. “Aaron, is everything ok?”
Aaron sighs over the phone. “It’s Theo, he’s okay I promise, but he’s broken his arm.”
For a moment she swears her heart stops in her chest, panic seeping through her body at the thought of her precious little boy being hurt. “He’s not okay if he’s got a broken bone, Aaron.”
“Sweetheart.” He says firmly, preventing her from spiralling any further. “He’s in a bit of pain but he’s ok. He’s just convinced me this means we get to have ice cream for dinner.”
She barks out a laugh that catches in her throat. “That boy will do anything for ice cream.” She pauses to take a breath, her emotions still overwhelming despite Aaron’s attempts to distract her. “What happened?”
“He fell off the jungle gym.”
She frowns at this, indignation running through her veins. “Aaron, I-”
“Yes, I know you told me he has almost fallen off of it before. I can’t exactly tell him he can’t go on it though sweetheart.”
She sighs, and feels the anger leave her just as quickly as it came. She looks over her shoulder when she hears the room full of local officers and detectives start to disperse.
“Do you want to talk to him?” Aaron asks gently.
“Yes please.” She breathes out, and waits a second as she hears Aaron talking to Theo in the background, the sound of the emergency room they were in almost drowning out their conversation.
“Hi, Mommy.” He sniffs, sounding incredibly sorry for himself. Her chest feels tight at the sound of it, at the use of the name ‘mommy’ when her 8 year old had mostly been calling her ‘mom’ lately.
“Hi, sweetie. How are you feeling?”
“My arm hurts.” He grumbles. “The doctor said I could get a cast in any colour.”
“Really?” She asks, voice full of fake enthusiasm. “What colour are you going for?”
“Green.” He sniffs again, a sign that he had been crying that broke her heart. “Are you coming home?”
Emily closes her eyes, and she blows out a breath. “I can’t, sweetie. I’m working, remember? I’m in Texas.”
“Okay.” The disappointment in his voice is palpable, and it takes everything in her to not start crying there and then. Thoughts of how she could leave in the middle of the case, assign someone else as agent in charge and just go home and hug her son.
And maybe smack her husband for letting Theo go on the jungle gym in the first place.
“Emily.” Dave’s voice interrupts her and she turns to look at him, holding up a finger to show she just needed another minute.
“Theo, honey, I’ve got to go okay. I love you so much. I’ll call later.”
“Love you too.”
She smiles at that, as she has done every single time since he first said it. “Can you pass me back to Dad?”
There's another shuffle on the other end of the phone, a quick curse from her husband as one of them nearly drops the phone. “Sweetheart?”
“I’ve really got to go, I’m sorry.”
“Baby, we get it.” He reassures, clearly able to hear how sad she is, how torn she is over what to do. “Theo gets it too usually, you know you’re the first thing any of us wants when we’re sick or hurt.”
Emily nods despite the fact she knows he can’t see her, and she hastily wipes away the tear the movement drops onto her cheek. “I know, you Hotchner’s really can’t cope without me.” She jokes.
“We can get by until you wrap up the case.” He replies, and she can just imagine the grin on his face, the way it would bring out his dimples. “I’ll text when we’re home okay?”
“Yeah, thank you. Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
She hangs up the phone and turns back to Dave, who is standing behind her still, with concern all over his face. “Is everything okay at home?”
Emily sighs as she puts her phone back in her pocket and starts to walk back to the conference room, Dave keeping pace at her side. “Theo’s broken his arm, so Aaron took him to hospital.”
Despite how neutrally she tries to say it she clearly fails, Dave coming to a stop and putting a hand on her arm. “The poor kid. We can always manage here if you need to head back.”
She frowns at him. “I can still do my job, Dave.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I never said you couldn’t, Bella. I just know that you aren’t going to believe he’s fine until you see him for yourself.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I am fine.” She practically growls at him before walking past into the conference room.
“Yeah.” Dave says to himself. “That was definitely said in a way a person who was fine would say it.”
____________
Emily was aware that she was in a foul mood, snapping at the team as they asked questions or every time they came up against a dead end. The need to get home as quickly as possible clawing at her throat. Photos that Aaron had sent her the night before of Theo with his bright green arm cast, and a bowl of ice cream in front of him only further deepening that need.
It culminates in her shouting at Derek like she never had before, something that made him say the ‘Hotch attitude’ was finally rubbing off on her. She threatened him with victimology for the rest of his career and then stormed out, ignoring the way the locals looked at her as she did.
She finds solace in the women’s bathroom, or at least she did right up until Dave followed her in.
“You shouldn’t be here, Dave.” She says as she briefly turns to look at him, before going back to looking at her weary face in the mirror. Sleep had not come easy for her the night before, George Foyet always making his way back into her subconscious every time someone in her family was hurt.
“Neither should you, Emily.” He clears his throat, clearly ready for an argument. “Which is why I’ve booked you a flight home.”
Emily turns quickly at that, stares him down. “You did what?”
“I booked you a flight, it leaves in two hours. I’ll drive you to the airport.”
She takes a step towards him and crosses her arms across her chest. “I can’t just leave in the middle of a case. I am the Unit Chief.”
“And you’re a damn good one, but you’re also an excellent mother. And I know that you need to see your little boy more than he needs to see you.”
Emily stares at him before nodding, relenting to doing exactly what she had been wanting to do in the 30 hours it had been since Aaron had called her. “You’re right. I’ll go. But I expect updates about what's going on here.”
“As you wish.” He stands out of her way so she can get past him and leave the bathroom. “The ticket is first class by the way, so drink some free champagne and do everyone a favour and chill out.”
Emily grimaces as they walk back towards the conference room. “Have I really been that bad?”
“You owe everyone at least one drink. I think you owe Derek a month off of paperwork.”
“He wishes.” Emily scoffs.
____________
Aaron watches in amusement as Amelia climbs onto the couch next to Theo and starts to, not very gently, stroke his hair. It’s what Emily did for all of them, Aaron included, when they were sick or hurt and Theo lets his sister do it, despite it clearly being the last thing he wanted. Watching his two year old daughter mirror her mother made his heart constrict, and he wished more than ever that his wife was here.
His phone rings and he grabs it, smiling as he sees Emily’s name and picture on the screen. “Hey, how are things?”
“I’m on a plane.” She replies, a small laugh in her voice. “Dave bought me a ticket and drove me to the airport. Took me as far as security would let him to make sure I got onboard.”
Aaron couldn’t pretend he was anything other than relieved. He’d noticed the tension in his wife during the brief phone calls and text exchanges about their son’s injury. Not to mention Theo was miserable, barely putting up with his little sister's antics anymore, and getting crankier by the second.
“What time do you get in?”
“Too late for you to even think about picking me up, I’ll get a cab home.”
He wants to argue, to go get her and tell her everything is fine, but he knows that's not what she needs him to do. She would want him here, in their home, with their kids. “Okay, just text me when you land.”
“I will. Love you.”
“You too.” He says as he hangs up.
“Everything okay, Dad?” Jack’s voice comes from behind him.
Aaron turns to look at his 17 year old son. “Yeah, Emily is on her way.”
Jack smiles at him, the same smile he inherited from Haley. “Uncle Dave sent her home?” Jack laughs at Aaron’s nod. “That’s a whole day sooner than you said it would happen.”
Aaron laughs. “She must have been in a really bad mood.”
____________
When Emily gets home it’s already well past Theo’s bedtime. As soon as she is in the house she sneaks into his bedroom and her chest tightens at the sight of his bright green cast laid on a pillow next to him. Archie held tightly under Theo’s good arm. She walks over to his bed and presses a kiss to his forehead, whispering apologies for not being home earlier into his hairline.
Amelia is also asleep. Emily sits down on the edge of her bed and tucks her in a little bit tighter and runs her fingers through her daughter's increasingly unruly hair.
Jack was still up, playing video games online with his friends. She pops her head in his room and quietly says hi, aware she had accidentally embarrassed him in the past. He throws her a grateful smile and a wave and she closes the door behind her.
When she gets to her own room Aaron is sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her, and immediately stands as she closes the door behind her. She’s in his arms before she can really register it, and the lump that had sat in her throat since Aaron called her about Theo dissipates almost immediately.
Emily wraps her arms tightly around him, and presses her face into his soft t-shirt. “Hey.”
Aaron presses a kiss to the top of her head and rubs a hand up and down her back. “Hey sweetheart.”
He encourages her to get ready for bed, and joins her. Their nighttime routines are easily done around each other, years of practise behind them. Once they settle into bed he immediately pulls her into his arms and rests her on his chest.
“You ok?” He asks gently, fingers running up and down her arm.
“Yes.” She swallows against the word, and it tasted like a lie. “No. I just feel like a bad mom.” She admits into his chest, the fear that had been circling around in her head for longer than the last couple of days bursting out of her. “I know I’m not.” She says as she feels him take in a breath to admonish her, and she rubs the tension from his chest with the palm of her hand. “Being their mom is my favourite thing, but when I can’t be here when my son hurts himself...it really sucks.”
Aaron hears the way her voice cracks, and the way her body shudders when she tries to hold back the tears he had no doubt she had been putting off since he called her to tell her about Theo’s accident.
“You’re okay, Em. And so is he.” Aaron kisses the top of her head. “He’ll be so happy when he wakes up to see you tomorrow, and I’ll go back to being second favourite even though I gave him ice-cream two days in a row.”
She pushes herself up by the hand on his chest, her tearstained face coming into view. “Two days in a row?”
____________
Theo is delighted to see her the next morning, all but forgetting about his broken arm as he launches himself at her. He begs her to sign his cast, to draw a picture on it for him, and she smiles when she sees the scribbles on it clearly left by Aaron helping Amelia hold the pen.
When her daughter realises she is home she squeals and demands to be held by her mother for hours.
They watch a movie together, all of them piling into the living room. Theo chooses the movie, Monsters Inc, and Aaron levels a glare at Jack when he opens his mouth to complain.
“Breaking your arm is fun.” Theo exclaims as he sits in between his parents, ready to watch his favourite movie.
Aaron and Emily exchange a look over the top of their son’s head and they both suppress a laugh.
They were all going to be fine.
#Hotchniss#hotchniss fic#hotchniss fanfic#aaron hotchner#emily prentiss#aaron hotchner x emily prentiss#WTB Universe#ITSWM#David Rossi being a busy body#The OG hotchniss shipper#mini fic
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tender-hearted sadness pulls me through the day
7.9k || ao3
Carlos is hurt, badly, and TK is faced both with the awful possibility of losing him and the fact that his parents still don't know about them. He promised Carlos he could tell them in his own time though, and he doesn't intend to break that promise for anything. Even if it means he can't be there, even if it means he has to hope from a distance. He would do anything for Carlos, after all.
aka that Carlos’s parent’s fic I’ve been working on for what feels like forever. It’s finally done and since @officereyes was the one who insisted I write it in the first place and it is her birthday, it feels only right to offer it as a part 2/on the actual correct day gift (surprise). I hope you enjoy it Jamie!
This idea was also requested by @noxsoulmate after I had already started writing it so I also hope you enjoy, and that it was worth the wait! This was started around the same time that 2x04 aired so it is definitely no longer canon compliant, though I did tweak a few things as the season progressed. Thanks to @justaswampdemon for reading through it last night to tell me if any of it actually made sense or not because I wasn’t sure after working on it for so long!
--------------------
TK couldn’t stop staring at his hands.
They were shaking and though he had nearly scrubbed them raw he could still feel the memory of the blood that had coated them only a half-hour before. It was Carlos’s blood and the reminder sent his hands trembling all over again. The sight of the accident was still so fresh in his mind. It was everywhere, trapped in all of his senses — the fear of realizing just who it was trapped in the crushed vehicle, the overwhelming scent of the blood stuck in his head, the sound of the heart monitor flatlining and his own desperate pleas for Carlos to stay with them, the helplessness of Carlos’s life leaking away under his fingers — he couldn't shake it. He knew he wasn’t likely to until he saw Carlos, until he had proof that he was okay.
But he was also a medic and he knew that the alternative, the thing he was trying so hard not to think about, to not put any energy into, was just as likely an outcome as any.
His anxiety spiral is interrupted by the sound of frantic footsteps that pause as they grow closer to his seat.
“TJ?”
He sat bolt upright at the sight of Carlos’s parents, expressions tense and eyes full of fear, before him.
“Mr. and Mrs. Reyes,” he stammered, standing up and shoving his shaking hands into the pockets of his pants, “hi. Uh, have they told you anything yet?”
“No,” Mrs. Reyes said fearfully, “we just got here.”
TK nodded, anxiously twisting at the interior of his pockets, “I’m sure someone will be by soon,” he assured her, “he’s only been here for about an hour.”
“And how long have you been here?” Carlos’s father asked him, studying him with a piercing gaze.
“About an hour,” TK repeated, “I was on shift, we responded to the accident. I rode in on the ambulance with him and since it was the end of my shift anyways and my Captain knows Carlos and I are...close, she told me just to stay.”
He met Mr. Reyes’s gaze, refusing to look away and hoping desperately that he hadn’t noticed his falter. It wasn’t a lie, but the omission weighed on him. Never once since their start had he denied his feelings for Carlos. He had made that mistake once, in the very beginning, and it had nearly prevented what they had become. But he had no other choice; he had made Carlos a promise. And he wouldn’t break it, not for anything.
The other man’s father nodded, eyes zeroing in on the paramedic badge on his shirt. “I thought you said you were a firefighter?”
“I was, the paramedic thing is pretty new. We lost one at our station, during the volcano, and I was already dual certified from New York so…” he trailed off with a shrug, his gaze drifting from the parents before him to the doors of the trauma wing Carlos had been wheeled into upon their arrival.
“You treated him?”
TK snapped his gaze back to find Mrs. Reyes looking at him with wide eyes. He swallowed, and nodded, “I did, ma’am,” he confirmed, voice soft with repressed emotion.
“And?” she asked him desperately, eyes shining with unshed tears, “How is he? How is my boy?”
How did he tell them? How did you tell your boyfriend’s parents that not even an hour ago you had been scared out of your mind that he was going to die in your arms even as you and your team worked desperately to save him? How did you do all of that without showing the emotion, how did you do that when they don’t know — when they can’t know — that his presence is what allows you to sleep soundly each night, that his smile is the thing you most look forward to seeing each and every day?
They were both looking at him as if he held all the answers and to be fair, he did. In terms of what had happened, at least. He was just as clueless as anyone else as to what would come next.
“He was involved in a very serious accident,” he settled on. “He lost a lot of blood but we managed to get him stabilized in the field. That’s all I know though. If I knew more…”
He trailed off but Carlos’s mother shook her head, reaching out to place a warm and trembling hand on his arm, “Thank you,” she told him, “for telling us, and for saving him. Carlitos is so lucky to have such a wonderful friend.”
“Of course,” he said without hesitation, even though her well-intentioned words stung, even though he had to swallow what would have come next: he would do anything for Carlos.
------------
It’s another few hours before his dad and the rest of the 126 show up. He may have been exaggerating when he had told Mrs. Reyes that his shift was ending when they arrived at the hospital. The reality was that Tommy had told him to stay. She had said that she and Nancy could handle the last few hours without him and that he would be too distracted to focus for the remainder of the shift so he may as well just stay. She had been right, but that meant there had still been a shift to be finished before anyone else was available to join his vigil.
A doctor had come by, a short while ago to give them an update. The surgery had gone well and while they had repaired the damage, they cautioned them that he was not out of danger yet, that the next several hours would be key. The knowledge had settled like a lead weight in TK’s stomach, the dread seeping through his veins. He saw his own fear clearly reflected in the eyes of Carlos’s parents and knows that they are all connected by it, even if they don’t know it.
When the doctor told them that Carlos was being moved to a recovery room where he would be closely monitored and that a nurse would be by when he was settled to let them know, TK realized a whole other layer to this nightmare. He won’t be able to be there. There is no way he can justify sitting by Carlos’s bedside to his parents as a “friend from work.” In order to be there for Carlos, he would have to tell them the truth, and he can’t do that. Not when he made Carlos a promise.
That’s how his team finds him: alone in the waiting room, leg anxiously bouncing against the floor as he stares in the direction of the recovery rooms, wanting nothing more than to be able to be beside Carlos, to have concrete evidence that he hadn’t lost him.
He allowed himself to be pulled into hugs and subjected to comforting pats before anyone asks the question he’s been dreading. It’s Marjan that does, her unwavering and empathetic gaze studying him as she speaks the words: “Is he still in surgery?”
“No, he’s in recovery now.” TK assured them, allowing them a moment to take a breath of relief before he continued, “The doctors said that the next few hours will be crucial, that those will be what really makes the difference. So we’re just...hoping for the best.”
They all nodded, but Paul’s piercing gaze studied him, “If he’s in recovery, why are you out here and not in there?”
TK bit his lip, turning his gaze downwards. He and Carlos hadn’t exactly shared their conflict about his parents with their friends. If TK was being honest, he had been hoping they wouldn’t ever have to, that they would cross that bridge before it ever became an issue. Clearly, the universe had other plans.
“His parents are in there,” he replied, hoping that maybe they wouldn’t push, that maybe they could just leave it there.
But these were their friends, and they wouldn't be so easily satisfied.
“Is he not out to them?” Marjan asked gently, taking the seat beside him.
“No, he’s out to them it’s just...complicated.”
“How complicated can it be?” Judd asked as he settled into a seat across from them, “he’s out and you two are solid. Seems pretty uncomplicated to me.”
TK didn’t know how to explain it, exactly. “They don’t know he’s in a relationship,” he settled on, “and he’s not ready to tell them. We...talked about it a few months ago, and I told him that was fine. That we could move at his pace. I mean,” he broke off here with a shrug, meeting the eyes of his teammates, “it’s the least I can do for him, right? Extend him the same understanding he gave me?”
The others exchanged glances that TK couldn’t read. Judd looked in the direction of the recovery rooms, “This ain’t right kid,” he said softly, “Carlos would want you there. You should be there.”
TK shook his head firmly, “I promised him he could tell them on his own terms, Judd. I told him I would wait as long as he needed. I can’t make that choice for him, and I won’t. I made him a promise.”
There was silence in the wake of his words. The others exchanged glances and TK looked away, not wanting to see their pity. He knew he was making the right choice, but that didn’t make the reality of it any easier to face. Carlos had nearly died in his arms just a few hours ago. The cold fear of losing him was still fresh in his mind, he still hadn’t been able to shake the chill from his bones. And now he was in a room just down the hall and TK couldn’t be there. Of all the challenges they had faced, this might just be the worst one yet.
Paul let out a low breath and shook his head, “I hear you man, and it’s admirable. I get you wanting to respect Carlos’s wishes, but you’ve got to think about yourself too. Maybe it would be easier for you to not be here? Sitting here and not being able to be with him has to be hard. You could go home, wait there instead. We’ll let you know if there are any updates.”
TK gave him a tight smile, “I appreciate it, but no. Even though I can’t be with him, I can’t imagine not being as close to him as possible. I’m not going anywhere.”
------------
His friends come and go, but TK simply waits. He assures them that he’s fine when asked, but otherwise, he is not great company. All he can manage to do is sit quietly and wait. And hope. He takes a turn around the waiting room, he bounces his leg anxiously at his seat, he fiddles with his necklace. He does everything he can to keep his body busy while his mind is fully occupied.
He knows that right down the hall his boyfriend, the person who he might just love more than anyone else on this planet, is in a medically induced coma. He knows that he can’t be there, and he knows why.
That doesn’t mean he hates it any less.
That also doesn’t mean that the last image he has of Carlos — bloody and crashing on a gurney being rushed to a trauma room — is going to leave his mind any time soon. He needs to see him. He needs visual confirmation to cancel out the nightmare image running through his head. He knows that he can’t, not right now, but he won’t leave until he can.
The waiting room empties and fills again several times during his vigil. The daylight he had entered in had faded long ago and the dark night sky was visible each time the hospital doors slid open. It was still a few hours before he saw Mr. and Mrs. Reyes leave from his corner of the waiting room. They stepped through the hospital doors hand in hand, Mr. Reyes rubbing comforting circles on his wife’s back as they headed back to their car, presumably to go home and get a few hours of sleep.
TK, who had been coming close to dozing off in his seat, was suddenly wide awake. Carlos’s parents were gone, he could go see him. He was out of his seat in an instant, his feet carrying him towards the door he had been staring at all day before his head could properly catch up. It wasn’t until he neared the door that he slowed, that he processed.
It felt almost wrong to be sneaking in. He felt almost guilty for waiting for Carlos’s parents to leave, for jumping on the opportunity the moment it presented itself. But he needed to see Carlos. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to settle until he did. He could not have the last image of him in his mind be what he had looked like when they exited the ambulance. He may have gotten the same updates from the doctor but that did nothing to ease his fear. He had nearly felt Carlos die under his hands all those hours ago. He needed to feel him breathing too.
He stepped in quietly, though he knew there was no danger of waking him. He had barely made it over the threshold before he froze, nearly toppled by the wrongness of seeing Carlos so still. To the casual observer, he probably looked like he was sleeping. But TK knew Carlos Reyes. The man was an energetic sleeper. He moved constantly in the night, always shifting and reaching out to pull TK closer when he felt he had strayed too far away. Always striving to press his body against his, always keeping them close; even in sleep. But it was more than that. His face was all wrong. Carlos’s face was expressive, even in sleep. Whatever he was thinking or feeling or dreaming was always laid out in full display for TK to read but now his face was blank. That more than anything struck TK as so foreign, so unusual.
He took a deep, wavering breath as he crossed the room, running his eyes over him as he drew closer. From the outside, he didn’t look too badly injured, but TK knew with a cold certainty that most of the damage was hidden by bandages under the blankets. He knew that there was so much more to this than met the eye, that as wrong as Carlos looked in this bed it was a far sight better than the alternative — than what he had feared from the moment they arrived on the scene.
“Hey babe,” he said softly as he reached the side of the bed, reaching out to run a hand through Carlos’s curls, “you look better than you did earlier. I hope you’re feeling better too.”
He paused here, taking another moment to study him up close now. He bit his lip against the tears that wanted to come. He didn’t know how much time he would have here, he wasn’t going to waste any of it crying.
“I know it’s going to take some time,” he said instead when he managed to steady his voice, “and I want you to know you should take all the time you need. We’ll be fine until you’re ready. I’ll be fine. I just,” he broke off, took a steadying breath, and started again, “I just want you to know that I probably won’t be here a lot, just in case you ever wonder why you can’t hear me, if you can hear any of us. I need you to know it’s not because I don’t want to be here or that I don’t love you. Because I do, so much. And there is nowhere I would rather be than right here with you at all times. But I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it. It’s…” he trailed off, taking another breath as he leaned forward, taking Carlos’s hand in his own, “it’s the least I can do,” he finished softly.
He lapsed into silence then, savoring in the sight of his chest lightly rising and falling with each breath. Not so long ago he thought he might never see that again. He had never realized just how much he had taken the concept for granted. He vowed that he never would again.
He leaned forward now, resting his head on the arm not intertwined with Carlos’s. “I just need you to come back to us,” he said quietly. “I need you to come back to me. I don’t want to face life without you. Don’t make me, please.”
Even though he knew there would be no reaction, even though he knew the other man was heavily sedated, he studied his face for any hint of recognition, any glimmer of hope he could sustain himself with. There was none and it was that truth and the weight of Carlos’s hand in his that saw him off into a fitful sleep.
------------
The sound of footsteps woke TK, causing him to sit bolt upright and glance around frantically, heart thudding in his chest.
“Relax,” an unfamiliar voice instructed, “we definitely don’t need a cardiac patient on our hands, on top of everything else.”
It took several tries to blink the sleep out his eyes before he could make out the scene in front of him. He was in Carlos’s room. He must have fallen asleep here. He pulled himself fully upright, stretching and rubbing at the back of his neck with a grimace as he studied the nurse checking Carlos’s vitals. She glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow, “Good morning.”
“What time is it?” he croaked out.
“Just past 6, so I’d imagine if anyone were to come back after going home to sleep for the night they’d likely be back soon.”
“How’d you…”
She shrugged as she checked Carlos’s IV, “Call it an educated guess. I mean, I know you paramedics are pretty dedicated but I have yet to see any of you spend an entire day in the waiting room for a patient. Figured there had to be a bit more to it than meets the eye. That, or I have to call security on you.”
“He’s my boyfriend,” TK said softly, reaching out to take Carlos’s limp hand in his own, tenderly rubbing his thumb across it, “but his parents don’t really know. It’s...complicated.”
The nurse’s eyes softened as she studied him, “You probably have almost an hour before anyone else shows up, visiting hours don’t officially start until 7 anyways. After that, you should try to get some sleep. You’re starting to look like you should have a bed of your own.”
TK shook his head, “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, sounding wholly unconvinced. “Well if you are around later and want an update feel free to ask for me at the nurses’ station. My name’s Becky.”
“Thank you, Becky,” he said with a small smile, “you have no idea how much I appreciate that.”
She waved off his thanks as she headed towards the door. She paused on the threshold, turning back to study him again, “Hey, Paramedic?”
“TK,” he provided.
“TK, then. If I find out you’re lying to me and that I should have called security…”
He gave her a grin and a tired laugh, “Then you know where I work,” he reminded her, gesturing towards his uniform, “pretty sure you’ll be able to track me down.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I hope everything works out for you two and for what it’s worth, he’s doing okay.”
“Thanks, Becky,” he said softly, turning his gaze back to Carlos’s still form before Becky smiled at them from the doorway and stepped quietly out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
--------------------
“This is an intervention,” Paul announced.
TK looked up sharply to see his team gathered around him several hours later. He had slipped back into the waiting room around 6:30, heedful of Becky’s warning. It was now just past 10 and he was currently being stared down by his team. He furrowed his brow in confusion and was just about to ask exactly what the hell Paul meant by that when Marjan continued.
“You’ve been here for over 24 hours now, TK. You’re still wearing yesterday’s uniform, you haven’t eaten and I doubt you’ve slept much.”
“I got a few hours!” he interjected but faltered when he was met with 4 equally unimpressed looks.
“And while I’m sure that was adequate sleep,” she continued in a tone that made it clear she did not in fact believe that, “you need more than that. Preferably in a bed. Preferably in your own bed.”
TK looked down and Judd continued, voice gentle, “You need to take care of yourself, kid. You can’t be there for him if you keel over. Let us help you out.”
TK bit at his lip. He knew they were right, logically. There was only so long he could keep this up. Soon enough his body would start protesting. He could already feel the effects of little sleep and no food in his sluggish thoughts. Realistically he knew they were right, but he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Carlos. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. The thought that something might happen when he wasn’t there was enough to keep him rooted to his spot in the waiting room, consequences be damned. “I can’t leave him,” he choked out, “if something were to happen…”
He trailed off, but Paul simply shook his head, “Nope, you’re coming with us. Judd and I are going to take you home. You’re going to shower, change, eat something and get at least 4 hours of sleep. Then - and only then - we’ll bring you back. Marjan and Mateo will stay here and let us know if anything changes. If it does we’ll bring you right back, promise.”
TK scanned the faces of his friends. They wore matching looks of determination, and he knew that this was not an argument he was going to win. He nodded, pulling himself out of his seat and throwing another glance in the direction of Carlos’s room. He felt a hand on his arm and looked over to see Marjan giving him a sad smile, “Don’t worry, we won’t let you miss anything.”
“Yeah dude, we’ve got this!” Mateo assured him as he plopped into an empty seat.
TK gave them both a grateful smile. He wished he could have offered more, but he couldn’t find the words. Nothing his mind produced seemed adequate enough to express the level of gratitude he felt for each and every one of them. He hoped they knew.
He allowed himself to be led to Judd’s truck and as they pulled away from the hospital, his mind began to wander. Logically, he knew Carlos was in good hands, that leaving the hospital did nothing to hurt his chances. But not being there just felt wrong, as if he was tempting fate. As if his desperate hope could only have an effect from within the same building.
TK was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice how close they were to their destination until the truck came to a halt outside of the condo. He froze as he looked at it, the thought of stepping foot inside their shared home without Carlos washing over him. He knew he was being too quiet, he knew that the other two had noticed that something was wrong. Judd eyed him in the rearview mirror.
“Is this okay?” he asked. “I can bring you to your dad’s if you’d rather, but I figured all your stuff is here so…”
“No,” TK said, voice too soft. “No,” he tried again, voice a little more sure this time, “you’re right Judd, all my stuff is here. It’s fine, really. Thanks for driving me.”
“Yeah, we’re not just going to leave you,” Paul told him, pushing open the passenger side door and climbing out, “we’re staying with you to make sure you actually do the things covered in our bargain. Plus,” he added in a gentler tone as he opened TK’s door and met his eyes, “you don’t need to be alone right now.”
TK swallowed and nodded. He slid out of the truck without a word, crossing to the front door and pulling his keys out of his pocket. He inserted his key into the door with trembling hands and pushed it open, holding it open behind him for Judd and Paul. Once they were all inside he shut it behind them, the sound of the lock clicking into place the only sound. They stood in silence as TK looked around, trying to take in the once familiar surroundings that now felt so foreign. The clutter of day to day life was scattered throughout the living space, left waiting for them to return home and resume their lives. It was a cruel reminder of just how sudden this had been; of how much they stood to lose.
Paul gave him a gentle shove towards the stairs, interrupting his reverie, “Go and get showered and changed, we’ll work on the food. Come back down when you’re ready.”
TK nodded and ascended the stairs without a word. He entered their bedroom without really looking at anything, making a beeline for the dresser so as to avoid the sight of the haphazardly made bed; left rumpled when they had both decided on a late start the previous morning, abandoning their usual morning routine in favor of other pursuits. He grabbed the first pants and hoodie he found, pulling them out and heading to the bathroom without even a glance at the garments in his hand.
Several minutes later he was forced to admit that the hot water felt good. It revived him in a way the restless sleep at Carlos’s bedside hadn’t, and it allowed him to peel back the layers of everything to find some of the positives. Namely that Carlos had survived surgery, that while he wasn’t out of the woods there had been no changes for the worst (or for the better, but a hot shower was a place for optimism.)
He stepped out feeling renewed. As he reached for his towel he reminded himself that it hadn’t even been 36 hours. In the grand scheme of things, that was practically nothing. For injuries like those, it was perfectly normal. There was no reason to expect the worst, not yet.
He pulled on the clothes he had grabbed, soft joggers and one of Carlos’s APD hoodies that he had claimed as his own months ago and tried to keep focusing on the positives, but his optimism faded along with the lingering warmth of the shower. Maybe the worst hadn’t happened and he was certainly grateful for that, but where they were was a world away from “good.”
He made his way down the stairs, turning the corner to find Judd and Paul in quiet conversation in the kitchen. They looked up when he appeared, Judd answering the question on his lips before he could even ask it: “No, no updates from the other two. Seems like all’s quiet there.”
TK nodded gratefully and slid into the seat across from them. Judd slid a bowl of something that TK knew objectively should smell amazing in front of him, but all he could do was stare at it.
“Thank you, but…”
“No,” Judd cut him off firmly, “you need to eat. Unless you want to be the one to tell my wife that you wouldn’t eat the food she sent over for you?”
TK sighed and picked up the fork pointedly taking a bite, and Judd huffed out a laugh, “Smart choice.”
The other two returned to their own bowls and they ate in companionable silence. TK appreciated their understanding. He was beyond grateful to his friends for everything, but even the thought of any conversation right in this moment felt like torture. The only thoughts he could manage right now were of Carlos, and the checklist of tasks required by his team before he would be allowed to return.
He finished his food in silence, getting up and crossing to the sink to rinse it out and place it in the dishwasher. He had just reached the sink when a hand stopped him, taking the bowl from his grasp.
“I’ve got this,” Judd told him, “you need sleep.”
“4 hours,” Paul reminded him from the counter, “in a bed.”
“If there are any updates…”
“We’ll let you know,” Paul assured him.
TK swallowed and nodded, turning and heading back upstairs with a soft thanks. He entered their bedroom again, this time unable to ignore the queen-sized elephant in the room. He lowered himself onto his side of the bed, muscle memory guiding him to lay on his left side, giving him a full view of Carlos’s empty pillow.
The sight of him hit him harder than anything else and suddenly he felt as if walls were closing in around him. All the feelings he had been pushing back, holding at bay so he didn’t fall apart at the wrong moment breached his tenuous barriers. The catalyst grew harder to see as his vision was clouded with tears. He rolled over, turning his back to the reminder as his body shook with sobs too long repressed. He let 36 hours of pain and fear and panic out as he lay in their bed, hoping desperately that the aching emptiness beside him did not become his new reality.
Eventually, he drifted off into a fitful sleep; head resting on his tear-soaked pillow and clinging to the desperate hope that when he woke up, things would look better.
————-
Things didn’t look much better when he woke up, but his head did feel a little clearer.
He woke with a jolt at the sensation of someone lightly shaking him. He sat up quickly to find Paul standing next to him, hands raised in a placating manner, “Easy man, it’s just me.”
TK could feel fear creeping through his mind. If Paul was waking him up then…
“What happened?” he choked out. He knew he shouldn’t have left. He should have fought them more, he should have insisted on staying, no matter what.
“Nothing,” Paul assured him, voice even and soothing, “everything’s fine. It’s just been a bit over 4 hours and while personally, I would love to let you sleep longer I figured it was only fair to wake you up and let you decide. There are no new updates and no one is going to judge you for taking the time to get a little more sleep.”
TK took a shuddering breath, willing his heart rate to go back to normal. He shook his head and pulled himself out of the bed, “No, I should be getting back. Thank you though,” he added to Paul, “for waking me up, for everything, really.”
“Of course man. We meant what we said: we’re here for you. I can’t imagine how hard this is, especially given everything, but you’re not alone in this. Don’t forget that. We all care about Carlos too, and we care about you.”
TK looked down, not sure quite how to respond to that. Thankfully, Paul knew him well. His friend put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. TK looked up and gave him a smile that Paul returned, “Take some time to get ready, Judd and I will be ready to leave when you are.”
He nodded again and watched as Paul stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He then took a breath to steady himself before he surveyed the room, actually thinking about what he might need this time around. He grabbed his phone charger and shoved it into his pocket but couldn’t think of anything else he might need. All he could think about was getting back to the hospital as soon as possible. He met the other two downstairs and at his nod they head out without a word, TK only pausing on the threshold for a moment as he glanced back at the empty condo. Soon he would be coming back here, with Carlos. He was sure of it; no other option was acceptable.
He shut the door behind him, turning his key in the lock until he heard the telltale click, and climbed into Judd’s truck for a silent ride to the hospital. When they arrived, he went to climb out but was stopped by Judd’s voice as the older man turned to look at him from the driver’s seat.
“I know you’re worried about him brother,” he said softly. “I can’t even imagine what it must feel like and what a mess I would be if it were Grace, but you still need to take care of yourself, remember that.”
TK swallowed down the emotions that rose up as he met Judd’s eyes.There was so much understanding in them and he knew that the other man knew what he was going through more than most. He gave him a nod, and a promise: “I’ll try.”
Judd nodded in satisfaction and TK climbed the rest of the way out of the backseat, giving his two friends a wave before he stepped out and headed back inside. He immediately headed to the nurses’ station and was about to ask for Becky when a familiar voice sounded behind him.
“TJ? What are you doing back here.”
TK froze at the sound of Mrs. Reyes’s voice. “Hi, Mrs. Reyes,” he began, “I was just checking in to see how Carlos was doing.”
The older woman’s expression softened and she reached out a hand to lay on his arm, “You are such a good person, my son is so lucky to have you as a friend.”
TK swallowed down the bile at the word, at the reminder of why he couldn’t be in there with Carlos. “How is he?” he managed to ask in a normal tone, “Has there been any change?”
Mrs. Reyes shook her head sadly, “No, but the doctors say that is to be expected right now. They say that if things remain as they are they will likely start weaning him off the sedation soon, so I guess that’s a good sign.”
“It is, he assured her, because despite everything she looked worried and he didn’t want her to suffer. “It’s a very good sign. Normal means that nothing is wrong, that things are healing. Paramedic,” he reminded her with a shrug when she shot him a curious glance, “I’m no doctor but I do know a decent amount about traumatic injuries.”
She smiled at him and squeezed his arm, “And I am so glad my Carlitos had someone like you working on him. I know it couldn’t have been easy to see someone you care about hurt like that but you helped to give him a fighting chance. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.”
“No thanks needed,” he told her softly, “it’s my job.”
“Still,” she insisted, pulling him into a hug. “I am so glad you are my son’s friend. He deserves wonderful people like you in his life.”
TK stiffened in the hug, her words hitting wounds she didn’t even know existed. He cleared his throat as he gently pulled away. “Thank you for the update,” he told her, “I appreciate it.”
She nodded, “Would you like to come sit with him for a bit? We don’t mind, there is plenty of room.”
The thought of being so close to Carlos but not being able to hold him, of having to stay distant so as not to blow their secret in front of his parents was too much. He was certain he wasn’t strong enough for that.
“Thank you,” he told her, “but I should get going. I don’t want to intrude and I just wanted to see how he was doing.”
“Of course,” she told him warmly, “but if you change your mind, feel free to stop by.”
He nodded and with one last hug she let him go and he stepped away, heading towards the doors. He didn’t know where he was going, there was nowhere else for him to go. He needed to be here, but he couldn’t be in there with them. He couldn’t be so close without revealing their relationship and he refused to do that to Carlos.
He stepped outside into the late afternoon sunlight, trying to decide what to do next. Trying to tamp down on the tears threatening to rise. It was too much. He had thought he was strong enough to handle this but he wasn’t. He couldn’t do this.
“TK?”
His name, said like a question from a familiar voice, caused him to turn to see Marjan heading towards him, a tray of coffees in her hand and a frown on her face.
“Hey Marj,” he said, hoping his voice sounded normal. Judging by the look on her face, he failed.
“What happened? Paul said you just got back. Is there any news? Mateo and I have been keeping an eye out but we didn’t see…”
“No,” he assured her, “no, you didn’t miss anything. Things are still fine. I just…” he trailed off, took a breath and started again. “I just ran into Carlos’s mother. She was very pleasant; offered to let me sit in the room with them. Told me what a good friend I was to her son.”
Marjan’s face dropped, “TK,” she said softly, but any response he could have given was swallowed by the tears he couldn’t stop. He thought he had gotten them all out a few hours ago as he lay in their bed, but clearly he was wrong. There were still plenty more. He felt arms wrap around him as Marjan pulled him into a hug, simply holding him as he cried.
--------------
TK was thumbing through the book Paul left him when Becky approached him. His heart was immediately in his throat and he was about to ask her what was wrong when he noticed that she was grinning.
“He’s awake,” she informed him, “has been for a little bit now. The doctors are running some tests right now so his parents have stepped out, but they should be done shortly, if you want to go see him.”
“Yes,” TK said immediately, “of course. Thank you.”
Becky gave him a warm smile, “It’s the least I could do. I do love a happy ending, after all. Give it about 5 minutes and then the doctors should be done.”
TK nodded, hardly daring to believe that this was real. Carlos was awake. He was okay. “Thank you,” he called out to Becky again as she walked away, “really.”
She gave him another smile before she disappeared around the corner and he was left to wait. He pulled out his phone to send a quick update in the group chat: Carlos was awake and he’d give them more details when he had them. There was a flurry of enthusiastic responses and well wishes before TK realized the 5 minutes were almost up and pulled himself out of his seat, heading towards Carlos.
He crossed to the door almost hesitantly, not quite able to shake the fear that maybe Becky had been wrong, that maybe he was somehow imagining this whole thing. But when he stepped inside and was met with a warm, exhausted gaze from familiar brown eyes, he almost staggered in relief.
“Carlos,” TK breathed and the weak, tired smile he received in return was without a doubt the best sight he had seen in days.
“What are you doing way over there?” Carlos asked him and TK was across the room in an instant, skidding to a halt at Carlos’s beside and placing a tender kiss to the top of his head. He blinked away the tears threatening to fall as he studied Carlos. There was so much he wanted to say to him, so much he needed to say. He just wasn’t sure where to start.
“Hi,” he settled on, and winced. As bedside greetings after a traumatic injury went, it wasn’t a good one.
Thankfully, Carlos chuckled, “Hi to you too. How are you doing?”
“Me?” TK asked incredulously, “Carlos, I’m not the one who nearly died.”
“No,” Carlos agreed, voice growing more serious as he studied him, “but my mom spent some time going on about how my friend ‘TJ’ saved my life. If that had been me and it had been you, I don’t think I would be okay.”
TK shook his head, “Can’t you just worry about yourself for once like a normal person,” he gripped, but there was no heat in his words. Carlos raised an eyebrow at him before he sighed. “It’s been rough,” he admitted, “it wasn’t easy and definitely not an experience I am ever looking to relive, but if it meant saving you I would do it a thousand more times.” He held Carlos’s gaze for several long moments in the wake of his words, making sure that his boyfriend understood just how much he meant it. Any amount of pain or suffering on his own part was acceptable long as Carlos was alive and well at the end of it all.
“But you’re awake now and you’re going to be okay,” he concluded after some time, “nothing else matters.”
“From what I’ve heard, there might be one more thing that matters.” At TK’s questioning look he explained, “My parents. They referred to you as my friend. Did you…?”
He trailed off but TK shook his head vigorously, “No,” he said firmly, “of course not. I promised you you could tell them on your own terms, that I was fine with being the friend as long as it took. I meant that.”
“Ty,” Carlos said softly, squeezing their linked hands and giving him a sad look, “babe. You could have said something. I wouldn’t have been mad. Thinking about you going through this by yourself is worse than any possibility of my parents’ reaction.”
“I wasn’t by myself,” he reminded Carlos, “I had my team. Our friends. I was never alone in this.”
“Remind me to thank them.”
“Oh don’t worry,” TK quipped lightly, leaning into this new topic in an effort to leave talk of his parents and the endless waiting behind, “I am sure they will be here the moment you are allowed more visitors.”
Carlos laughed lightly until he broke off with a grimace of pain. TK leaned forward anxiously, “Are you okay? Does it hurt too badly? Should I get a nurse? Do you--”
“Ty,” Carlos said firmly, “it’s okay. I’m okay. I just jostled things a bit, stop worrying.”
“I don’t think you are ever going to make that possible, Carlos Reyes.”
“Look who’s talking.”
TK opened his mouth to fire a response back but any retort he may have made was interrupted by the arrival of Andrea and Gabriel Reyes in the doorway. TK froze and went to pull his hand out of Carlos’s grasp, but Carlos held tight.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Uh, out of here?” TK answered, though it came out more like a question, “To give you some time with your parents?”
Carlos shook his head, “You’re not going anywhere. You belong here.” He turned to his parents, who were watching with curious gazes from the doorway, “Mom, Dad, there’s something I need to tell you.”
TK leaned in closer, voice low in Carlos’s ear, “Maybe waking up from a medically induced coma is not the time for major life decisions, babe. You don’t have to do this now.”
Carlos turned his head to meet TK’s dubious expression with his own, “If not now, when? You said it yourself: nothing ever stays the same.”
“Are you sure?”
Carlos smiled at him and squeezed their still intertwined hands, “Yeah, I am.”
He turned his gaze back to his parents, who were watching the proceedings curiously, “I know you’ve already met TK,” he told them, “and I told you he was a friend from work. But I lied to you, he is so much more than that. I’d like you to formally meet my boyfriend, TK Strand.”
TK anxiously watched their reactions only to see that while there were many emotions playing out on the Reyes’ faces, surprise was not amongst them.
“You knew,” he blurts out, unable to help himself.
Gabriel Reyes shrugged, “We were pretty sure after we met y’all at the market, but when you didn’t say anything when we got here we weren’t so sure and we didn’t want to press,” he began. “But seeing how worried you were, and how often you were here, I figured there was something we didn’t know. Plus, you’re wearing his shirt.”
TK looked down at the old APD sweatshirt he barely remembered grabbing on his trip home sheepishly and he could feel Carlos laughing light beside him.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Andrea asked him, eyes wide with sympathy, “All that time you spent waiting by yourself…”
“I made Carlos a promise,” he said simply, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand even as he spoke to his parents. “I promised him he could tell you on his own terms in his own time, and I would never break a promise I made to him for anything.”
The next thing he knew Andrea’s arms were around him again, squeezing him in a bone crushing hug. He nearly staggered back from the force of it, shooting a bewildered look over her shoulder to Carlos, who is smiling fondly at them.
“I was hoping we were right,” she told him softly, “all that time you were, how deeply you cared for him. I am so glad we were, and so happy that my son has someone to love him as much as you do.”
She pulled away to give him a teary smile that he returned. Gabriel stepped forward to wrap an arm around his wife’s shoulder and lean forward to offer TK an outstretched hand.
“It’s a pleasure to properly meet you, TK,” he said warmly. TK smiled at him before taking the offered hand.
“Likewise, sir.”
They ended the handshake and TK looked back to Carlos to see him beaming at him. He shifted over in his bed to make room for TK to perch on the edge beside him. TK did, happily, readjusting the grip of their joined hands so they could rest comfortably in Carlos’s lap.
“I always knew they would like you,” Carlos told him with a grin, raising an eyebrow at his parents, “but I didn’t know what detectives they were.”
“I am a Texas Ranger son,” Gabriel deadpanned, “in case you have forgotten.”
Carlos rolled his eyes at his father, earning him a lackluster admonishment from his mother and TK let the warmth of this moment settle around him. He could tell Carlos’s parents still had questions, he knew there would be some hard conversations to be had in the coming days. But for now they were all here together, and Carlos was okay. Their secret was out and TK didn’t have to hide the love he felt for this man for anyone ever again. He leaned over to press a soft kiss to the top of Carlos’s head, savoring the ability to do so and the way Carlos leaned into him in turn.
Things weren’t perfect but at this moment they were pretty close, and that was more than enough.
#911 lone star#911 lone star fic#tarlos#tarlos fic#my writing#userkimmy#userjilly#userac#usermaximus#userbones#tuserpaige#laeipoo#maizsnex#buckybarnesalways#immortalstrand#reyeslonestartag#hierophvnts
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8 letters 💌
pairing: best friend!jay x female reader
genre: angst, best friends to ?, one-sided love
synopsis: sitting on the top shelf of your cupboard sat a pretty pink box, full of love letters. they were never sent out, addressed, they were merely there for you to express your emotions for your best friend, jay. one day, jay happens to stumble upon said box, and things start spiralling from there.
warnings: sad (and open) ending, miscommunication, friendship breakup
wc: 3.9k
a/n: this is my first fic, so i apologise if it’s not very well done 😅 i hope you enjoy it though! also read till the end for a spoiler~
jay has been your best friend for 11 years now. the two of you watched each other grow up, mature, shared the worst and best life experiences, fell in and out of love. well, he fell in and out of love. you, on the other hand… you had only fell in love. with jay.
in all honesty, you didn’t know when or how it happened. all you could remember was that he tried to set you up with some guy from his soccer team called jake when you were 14, and it failed horribly. jake wasn’t a bad guy from what you could remember, you just couldn’t see him as anything more than a friend. one night that you went on your first and last date together, you had told him that you didn’t want to continue, and that you were sorry. you just couldn’t bear to lead the sweetheart on. but all he did was look down and laugh, before looking you in the eyes and saying, “it’s ok, i understand. you should go for him you know. i can see it in both your eyes.”
you didn’t want to agree with him, or maybe at least admit it, both to jake and to yourself. but the days following that conversation with jake were spent with jay and you just couldn’t help it anymore. you liked jay park.
he was good at almost anything, he was on the soccer team with a guaranteed scholarship into the best universities you could imagine, he could cook, he could sing AND dance. he was just slightly lacking in his academics, but that wasn’t going to stop him. meanwhile, you were almost the polar opposite, aside from the dance part. teachers were nominating you for any possible award they could simply from your grades alone. and so you had taken on the challenge to help him improve his grades, giving you more excuses to spend time with him.
your feelings for him just kept growing, and it physically ached whenever you even spared him a glance. despite that, you knew you could never let him know how you felt. unlike you, he had his own fair share of relationships. every time he introduced you to a new girl, you felt like the odds of ever ending up with him were decreasing.
soon enough, your urge to let your feelings out became overwhelming, forcing you to turn to pen and paper. writing your emotions out became an escape eventually, and now you had 8 letters (and counting) tucked away in a pink box, all written with your precious black fountain pen, on leaflets from the local bookstore that you and jay had spent years of your life exploring.
one day, jay had came over to your place to study again, but unannounced this time. you had just returned home from dance practice, surprised to see jay in his favourite blue hoodie, standing at the kitchen island talking to your mom and brother.
“you’re finally back! jay has been telling us about how you topped the class for calculus again. it's good to hear you’ve been helping him too.” your mom beamed as you used your hand towel to wipe the droplets of sweat rolling down the sides of your face.
“yeah, she’s been a great help! i’m hoping she could help me with chemistry today.” jay grinned at you, making your face even redder from 2 hours of dancing.
“well then, i’ll leave you two to it. I'm bringing your brother out, can you settle dinner on your own?” your mom asked. you nodded at her, as she grabbed her purse and led your brother out of the house.
jay was already making his way down the hallway, very familiar with the layout of your house after visiting at least 4 times every week for the past decade. he entered your room, plopping down onto the bed, not hesitating to make himself comfortable.
you followed after him, dropping your backpack onto the floor next to your bed. “i’m going to go take a shower, you can take my chemistry notebook out from my bookshelf, it’s on the middle shelf if i’m not wrong.” he acknowledged it with a nod as you grabbed some clothes and exited the room for the bathroom.
jay opened up the big wooden cupboard that stood tall next to your desk. it had 3 shelves filled fully with textbooks, storybooks and files. he could never understand how organised you were, but then again, that was probably why you topped the class in almost every subject you took. he scanned the middle shelf in search of the familiar dark green spine, when something caught his eye.
a pink box, sitting tucked on the highest shelf. jay had never seen that box before, the space usually occupied by your mint green box full of paperclips and other stationary supplies. curiosity overcame jay as he grabbed the box off the shelf, sitting down on the edge of your bed before lifting the lid. inside the box sat a stack of folded paper, with the one right at the top with a number “1” on it.
he heard the water running still from the bathroom down the hall, so he carefully took the stack of folded papers out, feeling the familiar sense of the leaflets you buy a new pack of every week for note taking. as he shuffled the papers around in his hand he realised that each one was labelled with a number and a date. feeling even more intrigued now, jay set the box onto the bed beside him and unfolded the paper labelled “1”.
it’s been about a week since my date with jake, and a week since that conversation we had at the diner. i can’t stop thinking about whatever he said to me, especially now that i’m really convinced that it’s true. not that i only thought so after he told me but, it kinda woke me up.
maybe i do like jay. no, i’m sure i do. i don’t know why, there’s just something so right about him, how he runs around like a cheerful kid, how he’s always there for me when i’m sad, or upset, and how he cuddles with me sometimes. and i don’t know what i’m gonna do about it, or if i’m going to do anything about it at all.
i’ll think about it, i just don’t think he feels the same.
8 june 2016
jay sat in silence as he folded the paper back to how it originally was. he couldn’t believe what he just read. you? have had a crush on him since 2016? that was 5 years ago.
the sound of the water hitting the ground stopped suddenly, and he panicked, shuffling the letters back into as neat a stack as he could produce before placing it back into the box. as he heard the door open, he slid the box back onto the top shelf and sat himself back onto the spot at the edge of the bed.
you entered the room, drying your hair with a towel, in a white tee and cotton shorts. “so, are you ready to learn some chemistry?” you looked at jay expectantly.
he gulped, uncomfortable after learning the truth about your feelings. it’s not that he was weirded out by it, he most definitely wasn’t, it was just a lot to suddenly find out that your best friend of 11 years looked at you as more than a friend. “actually, i’m not feeling really well, i think i need to go home and rest.”
furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you offered,” why not just take a rest here? i can cook some of that soup you li-”
“it’s fine, i’m gonna get going now.” jay scrambled to grab everything he brought, rushing out the door and down the hallway. you saw the last ray of light peak through your front door as it closed behind him.
why did he suddenly run off? did you do anything wrong? was he hiding anything from you?
whatever the answer was, it wasn’t going to be easy getting an answer out of him.
-------
it was a norm for jay to pick you up on the way to school after he got his liscence a few months ago. he drove the most luxurious Porsche that his parents gifted him on his 18th birthday, all red and shiny, you remember that it was the talk of the school when he first drove into the school lot.
however, as the minutes went by as you stood along the pavement, waiting for the red Porsche to drive down the street, you realised that jay wasn’t coming to get you. he wasn’t answering your texts or calls, and he’d always contact you first if he was going to be late.
it’s ok, he might just not be feeling well from yesterday, there was no need to worry about anything except for the fact that you were going to be late for class.
you hopped onto a bus that went a few blocks down from your school, but nevertheless, you were already 15 minutes late by the time you reported your latecoming to the main office. as you swung open the door of your classroom, the last thing you expected to see was jay, in his usual white button up and black ripped jeans, sitting in his seat at the back of class.
he had looked up at the sound of the teacher being interrupted, coming eye to eye with your expectant gaze. but he felt guilty, guilty for ditching you and ignoring all your calls and texts, but he just needed some time away to think. about your friendship, and about his feelings.
you expected jay to shoot you that usual smile of his, but he’d just lowered his head and went back to scribbling furiously on his textbook.
“well, are you just going to stand there or do you actually want to take a seat and learn?” you heard your calculus teacher ask. flushed from both running and embarrassment, you hurriedly took your seat diagonally in front of jay, pulling your calculus textbook out of your bag.
you turned behind to look at jay, but he didn’t return the gaze. strange, what’s up with him?
once the bell rang, you turned again, only to find jay’s seat empty as he rushed out the back door. why was he avoiding you? it was way too obvious now. you headed for your locker, which coincidentally, was right next to jay’s. he was standing there, shoving books in and taking books out.
despite whatever cold treatment he was giving you, he still looked so good.
you took a deep breath before approaching him. the sound of you opening your locker startled him, as he physically flinched away from the noise, eyes wide open as he looked at you. you leaned against the door of your locker, returning his gaze, which he quickly turned away from.
“why have you been avoiding me? and why didnt you pick me up this morning?” you asked, hoping you didn’t come across as demanding or ungrateful.
“i forgot, i’m sorry. i need to go to biology right now, i’ll text you, ok?” jay shut his locker, clutching his biology book in his arms before speeding away. you tilted your head, something just didn’t feel right, he seemed so closed off. jay was never closed off, not to you, but at least he didn’t seem angry.
you closed your locker, heading for your next class.
----
you had dance practice after school on mondays, giving jay the perfect opportunity to head back to your house. he hated snooping around, but he wanted to read more of your letters and understand how you felt.
as the front door of your house swung open, jay was greeted by your mom. “well hello dear, what can i help you with today? i’m afraid y/n has dance practice today so she isn’t home at the moment.”
of course jay knew that already, but he just put on a smile and replied,”ah i see, well i couldn’t find her after school but i needed her help with a few calculus questions. do you mind if i stay here till she gets back from her dance practice?”
“sure thing dear! you’re always welcome here, please come in! if you need anything i’ll be in the kitchen baking some snacks,’ she replied, stepping aside as she smiled even wider (if that was possible) and let him in. he made his way down the dimly lit hallway, footsteps echoing loudly with the absence of people in the house.
jay entered your room, the usual scent of your lavender bed spray filling his nostrils immediately. he never realised how recognisable your scent was, it followed you everywhere, to school, even in his car. it was a pretty scent.
he opened your shelf, which had very obviously been reorganised since he last left it. books had switched positions, with a few sticking out slightly. your usual box of stationery was also back in its usual spot so jay had to remove it before the pink box came into sight.
it felt cold in his hands, likely due to your overnight air conditioning. he carefully opened the box, not wanting to ruin it or its contents. the stack of letters sat there, as if nothing had ever happened and he didn’t just find out you had been keeping such a big secret for so long.
as he fumbled around with the second letter and slowly unfolded it, he realised how short the first one was in comparison. in fact, the more letters he opened, the longer they got. the 8th one took up the entire A4 leaflet, and it was dated very recently, slightly more than a month ago on 2nd september. he picked up the creased leaflet on the bed and started reading.
maybe i’m expecting too much now. it’s been 4 years, and nothing has happened. maybe i’m just not fit to be with jay, maybe we’re better off as just best friends and not anything else.
summer break is almost over and i feel like we’re drifting away more than ever. we used to spend every day of summer break together or with our friends. but ever since he started dating that girl, calista, it feels like he doesn’t have as much time for me. i don’t know why i’m even complaining… we’re 18 and he himself told me that we should start seeing people, “live life a little”, but how do i do that when the person i want to be with is him?
it’s the way he can always when i’m feeling down, and brings me my favourite bubble tea or snacks when i don’t even ask him. and how hardworking he is, it’s so inspiring to see how much he works for the things he loves, like soccer and dance.
it’s so, SO hard to not fall in love with him, i find myself just wanting to be around him even though we’ve been together for more than 10 years already. hell, i even picked some of his cutest habits.
the jealousy is intoxicating but i can’t help but feel that way.. why not me? am i not his type? i know he likes outgoing and sporty girls, and i’m anything but. sighs, do i even have the right to be jealous of something that isn’t mine?
i don’t know how people fall out of love but it hurts, and i really do wish that i could fall out of love with him too. he seems very happy with calista anyways, and i don’t want to jeopardise that. i just want to graduate, go to college and stop seeing him. it’d be better for me that way, i think.
2nd september 2021
jay didn’t realise that he was choking up, tears welling in his eyes.
you wanted to go to college and never see him again? after all these years you guys had spent together, all the crap you’ve been through, all the memories you’ve made, and you wanted to leave him? just like that?
he scoffed, the name calista bringing back a wave of memories, both good and bad. they’d ended things right after summer break was over, never speaking to each other again. she was just another girl he liked, dated, and then broke up with. no one special, and you were willing to cut ties with him because of her.
he stacked the letters before shoving the box back onto the shelf, letting the cupboard door shut close by itself.
your mom shot him a confused look as he walked past.”oh jay! i thought you were staying till later?”
a sad smile hung on jay’s face, his usual smile lines gone. “sorry maam, something urgent came up at home so i need to leave. thank you for letting me stay for a while though!” she nodded at him before saying a quick “bye” as jay dashed out the door, hopping into his car and speeding down the street.
it wasn’t until an hour later until you reached home, dragging your feet up the porch, absolutely drained from the secon day of dance practice straight. as you entered your home, you heard the faint sound of the TV playing, and your mom greeted you as you walked into the kitchen, entranced by the smell of freshly baked cookies and muffins.
you playfully dodged your mom as you grabbed a cookie (presumably chocolate chip - it was your mom’s specialty) off the tray.
“mmm, they’re fresh! you make the best cookies mom, i swear.” you said, mouth full of the delicious malty chocolate, crumbs falling from your mouth.
she shook her head and giggled to herself, before a look of realisation came across her face. “that’s right! i almost forgot, jay came over just now, he said he needed some help with some calculus problems.” you swear you felt your heart skip a beat. wasn’t he avoiding you?
“you might wanna give him a text, by the way. he said something urgent popped up at home, he might appreciate you checking up on him, and some help with his homework.” she continued.
giving her a quick nod, you wiped your hand on your shorts and ran to your room. something was very, very wrong. he couldn’t have? could he? you threw open the door to your cupboard, grabbing the sacred pink box from the top shelf. and when you opened it, your heart dropped.
#8. that... that wasn’t possible. you had always put #1 on the top, and the most recent letter at the bottom. your hands started trembling as a thousand thoughts ran through your head.
he’d read the letters.
———————
one thing about your friendship with jay was that you rarely went over to his place. there was no real reason as to why, whenever the two of you were together, somehow you’d just end up back at your place. it wasn’t a secret that he was rich, he lived in a million dollar mansion, right at the end of the street you lived along, but you’d only ever come here for birthday parties, an occasional movie night and to study, once in a blue moon.
you were panting heavily by the time you had walked the incline leading to his family’s mansion, trying to keep your composure at the same time. there was a stretch of black gate around the white mansion, creating a stark contrast. approaching the gate, you pressed on the intercom, before the gate opened automatically. honestly, you still weren’t used to that.
as you made your way to the house, past a mini garden, the front door swung open. there stood jay, standing in a grey sweater and sweats. he wore no expression on his face, standing at the top of the stairs silently as you walked towards him.
before you could take a step up the stairs, he finally spoke. “what are you doing here?” it didn’t sound accusatory, but it did feel like he had given you a shove in your shoulder, causing you to maintain your position at the bottom of the steps.
“you’re upset.” you pointed out. he wasn’t just avoiding you anymore, you could tell from how cold and distant his voice sounded, void of any emotions. he raised his eyebrows, which somehow only made you feel even more upset.
“yeah, i am.” he crossed his arms, clearly seeming uninterested in having this conversation.
the two of you stared at each other in silence, the tension growing thicker as the seconds passed by.
you looked up at him, observing his reaction before stating,”you read the letters.” that came out a lot more straightforward than you had expected, but the tense environment was really putting you on edge.
jay didn’t reply, which made you even more annoyed. couldn’t he see that you were trying to communicate with him? you were trying to salvage as much of this friendship as you possibly could, and he was making things difficult for you.
“i don’t get it, why are you so upset? you’ve been avoiding me like i’m the plague.”
he snapped his head up to look at you, eyes shooting daggers into your own.
“you said you never wanted to see me again after we graduated. what happened to our plans to go to college together? we’ve been best friends for 18 years for god’s sake! does this friendship mean nothing to you?” his sudden outburst took you aback. you had never fought like this, your arguments barely lasted before one of you would suck it up and let the other have their way. but not this time.
you were tired, none of this felt right anymore.
“what about my feelings, jay? do my feelings mean nothing to you?” you murmured. your hands started shaking and felt yourself choke up, a sob threatening to escape any time. “you don’t know how hard it’s been for me all these years, seeing you together with other girls. i know that sounds so selfish, but it really pains me, jay. the past few years have caused me nothing but constant jitters and it just hasn’t been easy.”
his eyes had softened after hearing your words, and he yearned for nothing more than to reach out and embrace you, to let you cry your heart out onto his shoulder. he extended his arm, wanting to pull you into himself, but you flinched away. as if he was going to hurt you.
jay understood what you meant now, what you meant by pain. he never wanted to hurt you, the person he cared about most aside from his family, the person that had stuck by him through it all. all he wanted was to continue having that and ensure that you were happy. and now he was someone capable of harming you.
at this point, tears had started trickling down the sides of your face, mixing in with the perspiration from the humid evening weather. you looked at him one last time, sharp cheekbones and high nose all a blur to you as you turned your back to him and walked away.
those were the last few words you were ever going to speak to jay.
or so you thought.
—————-
a/n: that was all! for now ☺️ spoiler alert! yes, there will be a sequel to this fic in the near future~ do look forward to it!
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A Moth to a Flame - Chapter One
Marcy watched the sun slowly set on Newtopia as she’d done many an evening before. The sharp squawks of the gulls rang through the orange sky. She looked quite the forlorn figure standing by the hotel entrance, the gentle evening breeze that ruffled her cloak underscoring her solitude.
Her eyes remained fixated in the same direction her friend had taken off, maybe in some fleeting fool’s hope she’d change her mind and come sprinting back right into her arms.
Not a chance, Marbles.
Anne was long gone by now. Hopefully, she’d caught up with the Plantars’ fwagon before they reached the city gate. Judging by how quickly she booked it, the odds were in her favor. That girl didn’t make varsity back home for nothing.
Marcy only hoped those sweet, simple frogs knew just how lucky they were to have someone like Anne in their lives.
Sighing, her head lowered, she licked her wounds slowly.
Really? That easy, huh?
Could Anne have made it any more obvious that she wanted to get out of there faster than she did? After they’d been apart for so long, and for a family of farmer frogs whom she’d known for what? Months?
No, don’t do that, she pulled herself up. It wasn’t right for her to be mad at the Plantars. This wasn’t their fault. Sprig and Polly were a barrel of fun at the slumber party, providing you disregarded their life-threatening encounter with the jelly-fish ghosts. Hop Pop, meanwhile, reminded her so much of her own grandpa it was uncanny. They were sweet, decent folk who’d taken Anne in and kept her safe all this time. It was just...
Her lips twisted into a bitter frown. How else was she supposed to feel but a little rejected?
However, was she really allowed to complain when holding her tongue was so normalised for her by this point? Marcy was a people pleaser, she understood that much about herself. Anytime Anne and Sasha got into an argument, she was there to keep the peace and everyone happy. So if Anna-Banana wanted to spend more time with her bumpkin frog family than her literal best friend since preschool, who was she to say no?
The story with her folks wasn’t all that different either. When they pressured her to keep up her studies, up to and including PSAT prep despite it being years away, she did as she was told like a good girl to make them proud, and they were. She hoped they were.
Goodness knows what they must be thinking right now—
Nope nope nope! Don’t go there, don’t go there.
She’d already lost too much sleep at night ruminating over the unspeakable pain she’d most surely put them through, it was the last thing she needed right now. She tried to do the logical thing and focus on the positives instead. That usually worked.
Anne wouldn’t be away for too long. They’d be together again as soon as Hop Pop’s contacts returned the Box to Wartwood and then it was off to the first of the three temples to get those gems recharged. Once that side quest was done and dusted, it was a simple matter of finding Sasha and making their way home.
Looking down, she caught herself wringing her hands.
Home.
That sure was the plan.
I mean... what else are we supposed to do?
“Always sad to see someone go, isn’t it?”
Marcy quickly wiped her eyes and glanced over her shoulder to greet the towering form of King Andrias.
Almost instantly, her mood perked up a notch. He was the one person whom she trusted, more than anyone else in all of Amphibia. Ever since she first landed outside the city walls, he took her under his wings and ensured her smooth transition into this brave new world.
Andrias was without doubt one of the kindest and wisest people Marcy could have ever hoped to meet. He was a true listener, and there were very few you could say that about, her parents included. How often had he been there to lend both an understanding ear and sage advice over games of flipwart?
Games she won more often than not, she wasn’t humble enough not to brag.
It was also he who sent Marcy on the daring missions that would eventually make her the hero of Newtopian society she was today. All because he recognised the value of her talents beyond passing an exam or helping her friends with their homework. No other 13-year-old had their own solid gold statue adorning a city bridge.
She owed this king a debt she couldn’t possibly repay, but one he was far too altruistic in nature to demand.
Then, why did he look so... solemn?
“Come along, Marcy. We need to talk.”
Maybe it was his serious tone of voice or those specific choice of words, but they made the hair on the back of Marcy’s neck stand on end. In an almost pavlovian manner, she corrected her posture and she held her chin erect.
Shoving whatever remaining conflicted thoughts aside, she silently followed Andrias back to the castle like a pilot fish tailing its great white. She was so puny next to this tremendous salamander, he could crush her with a single blow of his fist if he so chose. Not that a gentle, goofy giant like Andrias would even dream of doing such a thing.
So when he was dead serious, Marcy knew better to zip it, listen, and do as instructed.
Their quiet journey took them all the way back to the castle and into the royal throne room, a place she was all too familiar with by now. To enter this hallowed hall was a privilege bestowed only to a select few. For Marcy, it was where she had her morning debriefs over bugachinos.
Instead of going straight up to the throne for their pow wow as she anticipated, Andrias guided her down a small passageway to their left.
When they made their way up to the statue of what Marcy recognised as one of his ancestors, one of the great rulers of Amphibia, they came to a stop. Andrias then gazed down at her with the most serious look she’d seen him give anyone.
“Marcy, before we go any further,” he spoke sternly, “I need to be absolutely crystal clear about something. Okay?”
“Y-Yes, Andrias?” Marcy asked, shivering a little. She did not like being pulled out of her comfort zone, not like this.
“You’re about to enter the most secret place in all of Newtopia,” he continued, now down on one knee and his hand hovering over her shoulder, as close as they could be to eye level. “What I’m going to show you... I need you to swear you won’t share with another living soul. Not to Anne, not to Lady Olivia, no one. Do you understand? I can’t emphasise this enough, Marcy.”
“Of course,” she answered earnestly, trying to sound more confident. “You know you can always trust me, Andrias.”
A ghost of that warm, fatherly smile returned to his big blue countenance.
“Trust is a hard thing to come by, kid, and you’ve gone above and beyond to earn mine. It’s just that I’m not exaggerating here when I say this is a big one.”
Marcy simply placed one hand over his huge index, the other over her heart.
She smiled back at him sweetly, genuinely, “I promise.”
“Very well.”
Nodding in approval, Adrias rose. He reached out, pushing a luminous coral torch upwards.
It didn’t take an encyclopedic knowledge of ‘Creatures & Caverns’ for Marcy to predict that the statue was going to shift to the left next, revealing the spiralling staircase leading to Frog knows where. She probably should’ve been more surprised, but come on, it wasn’t exactly the first secret passage she’d come across in this castle lately.
“Follow me,” was all Andrias said, before he pulled off the same coral torch, then proceeded down the stairs without another word. Marcy followed obediently, unable to ignore the unnerving chill that was now travelling up her spine.
Was it... always this cold around here?
Something about all this just felt so unsettling compared to last time. She couldn’t really explain why; she knew she was safe with Andrias and that he wouldn’t do anything to intentionally put her in harm’s way. It was a gut feeling and that sort of thing bugged a rational person like her to no end.
She tried to take her mind off it by hazarding her best guess as to precisely what he was going to show her. Either she did that or started getting all worked up dwelling on Anne again, which she’d rather not at the moment.
Another secret library, perhaps? Probably not, though she wouldn’t be at all disappointed if it was. Maybe there were forbidden texts about the dark arts hidden away down there. Magic users were incredibly rare in Amphibia these days—Marcy had already searched far and wide—so might this be her chance?
Oh, how the very idea of being able to cast actual magic excited her. Being Chief Ranger of the Knight Guard was a great honor and nothing to sneeze at, but to be a powerful sorceress, one who could communicate with spirits, raise the dead, shuffle the orifices on her enemy’s faces—
Okay, rein those snails in, Mar-Mar.
Her musings were interrupted by a strange noise emanating from below. At first she figured it was just her imagination, but the further they continued their descent, the clearer it became.
It sounded an awful lot like beeping. Yes, that was it. A progressively growing cacophony of bleeps, bloops and chirps, the kind she’d expect to hear from a high-tech supercomputer. Something absolutely alien in a world like Amphibia, she and her friends excluded.
Before Marcy could ask Andrias if he heard it too, she was distracted by the emergence of an orange glow chasing away the darkness below. It was a warm, almost heavenly light that conjured the mental image of a crackling fireplace on Christmas morning, protecting you from the snowstorm outside.
The chill in her spine had by now spread to the crown of her head and the tips of her toes. Her throat tightened up. Beads of cold sweat dripped down her forehead.
What the... Marcy could not say a word, only think.
There was something down there. Something greater than any library, however inconceivable that sounded. Whether it was good or bad was irrelevant to her at that moment.
It called her.
The duo finally reached the foot of the staircase and entered the sacred sanctum.
Marcy’s jaw dropped.
“Woah.”
There were no shelves of books. No ancient Amphibian artifacts. There weren’t even any walls that she could make out from where she stood. Just an apparently endless sea of darkness encompassing a large round platform from which both the enticing glow and the lowkey din of beeps originated.
Marcy resumed taking Andrias’ lead as they stepped out onto the platform, the clink-clank of their boots confirming her assumption it was made of metal. The whole thing appeared more at home on an alien spaceship than in the dungeons of a castle.
Upon arriving at its centre, Andrias knelt down on both knees and, much to Marcy’s curiosity, removed his crown and set it down on the floor. She took the hint by following suit.
Any lingering fears melted away the more she basked herself in the radiance. It was as if the beams were steadily pouring into her body, clearing up her headspace, reducing any tension in her body. She recalled a favored memory from when she was five-years-old, when she and Anne spent a whole summer afternoon by the beach. How the tides would come in and out without fail, washing away the ruins of their sandcastles, the seaweed, one of Anne’s sandles and the teeny tiny baby seahorse they rescued.
Like a nice blank canvas.
Was this a private place of worship? Not according to her expansive studies of Amphibian anthropology. Or maybe it was a place for Andrias to meditate away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the castle. Seemed a skosh excessive if that was the case.
“Truly captivating, I know.”
Andrais’ baritone brought Marcy back down to earth. She straightened up and tried to refocus herself. They were down here for an important reason, at least she believed they were.
“One can spend hours down here,” Andrias boomed ominously. “Adrift in their own thoughts and... dreams.” The light cast his face in a rather unnerving shadow as he stared ahead into the void. “But I’m sure you know I haven’t brought you here to show off my retreat from the world.” He took a long, deep breath, like he was mentally steeling himself for what he said next, “As much as it pains me to say it, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, Marcy.”
He produced from his sleeve what appeared at first glance to be two giant pieces of parchment and unfolded them neatly on the metal surface. A closer inspection told Marcy they were in fact pages torn from an exceptionally large book. Judging not only by the size, but the font and format as well, she easily pieced together its origin.
“Are these...?”
“From the book we “found” in the wing?” Andrias chuckled mirthlessly. “Yes. Still kinda surprised you didn’t pick up there were pages missing, but that's not important right now. Please, read.”
The platform provided ideal reading light. Marcy’s ability to read at a 12th Grade level meant she cruised through the text and finished within minutes.
She read it once, then twice. A third and fourth time just to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.
Her bottom began to tremble.
No... Nononono, this... this can’t be right. I-It’s impossible! How in the world can it...?!
No amount of curative rays could unfreeze the blood in her veins. The metaphorical pistons in her brain were firing on full cylinders in a vain attempt to digest this earth-shattering information. For a split second, she thought she was going to pass out.
Desperate, she turned to the stone-faced Andrias to plead for some kind of answer, but she found no words with which to speak. All the personal growth and development that made her Newtopia’s champion had been stripped of her and she was reduced to nothing more than a helpless lost toddler.
A comforting set of giant digits placed themselves under her chin, the same way a father would do for his daughter.
“All this time, I’ve been testing you,” Andrias told her, his voice full of pride. “The games of flipwart, the missions, the “secret library”, even the barbari-ant colony I had lured to the city. I was watching you, studying your every action. With each challenge I issued, you excelled my expectations. You’re an exceptionally talented human being, Marcy, truly worthy of the name ‘Wu’.”
Even if these words were meant to serve as comfort or encouragement, they had only the opposite effect for Marcy. Tears were leaking out the corners of her eyes.
She mustered only a pitiful whimper, “I-I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he promised, “you will soon enough. He’s so excited to meet you.”
“... He?”
Lifting his mighty hand in the air, he thrusted it into the nothingness facing them. Marcy instinctively followed its direction.
“Marcy Wu,” Andrias’ thundering voice resonated throughout the sanctuary, “allow me to introduce you... to my master.”
No sooner had he finished, the whole world started to tremble at Marcy’s knees, throwing her off her balance. A rumbling, mechanical ROAR struck her ears so loud she had to cover them to protect the drums from rupture. Yet despite this sensory assault, she somehow forced her eyes to stay wide open. She needed to face whatever was coming.
Marcy gazed into the abyss.
And the abyss gazed back with all thirteen of its eyes.
Terror. Pure mounting terror overwhelmed every cell of her being. Her pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks. If her mouth stretched any wider, her jaw risked snapping clean off its hinges.
Everything around her faded into black. Andrias, the platform and its glow, the beeping, all vanished into the ether. All now that existed were herself and those colossal demonic eyes plucked from the deepest recesses of her nightmares, their leer burrowing into her very soul.
Marcy wanted to scream until she coughed up her lungs. Moreso, she just wanted to wake up. This was all a dream, it had to be. A lucid dream that had gone on for far too long. She and her friends weren’t in another dimension inhabited by talking frogs, such a notion was a scientific absurdity. She sure as heck wasn’t a ranger in some anthropomorphic newt army.
Any moment now, her wizard kitty alarm would ring and she’d wake up in her soft, cozy bed. Dad would have left for work by now, planting a goodbye kiss on her sleeping forehead as he did every morning since she was little. Mom would be already making her her favorite congee rice and youtiao for breakfast. Then she would begin the process of packing up her room for the big move to Oregon like a good girl.
Yes, she would even happily do that. Anything to bring an end to this ordeal!
Shhhh
Her train of thought screeched to a sudden halt.
Marcy
It’s gonna be okay
And just like that, as if those were the five magic words required, everything was fine again. No more panic, no more existential terror. Her heart rate lowered to a steady, non-life threatening level.
The tide had risen up and washed Marcy’s mind clean.
Like a nice blank canvas.
What quickly followed was an epiphany of sorts.
There was nothing for her to fear. Once she accepted that fact, the warm sensation from before returned greater than ever, engulfing her in what could only be described as a spiritual hug. She could feel the pair of hands, tender as her own mother’s, caressing her face and flicking away her tears. They even ruffled her raven hair in the same playful manner.
Come to me, daughter of Wu
Let me get a good look at you
Marcy obeyed. Getting down on all fours, she crawled across the nonexistent ground—the laws of physics evidently had no place here—until her face and the eyes’ chief pupil were within inches of each other.
Fresh tears, now ones of ecstasy, trickled down her cheeks and evaporated in the pulsating heat.
“You’re beautiful.”
I know
We’ve gotta lot to talk about, Marcy
And I have a feeling...
You and I are gonna become the best of friends
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