#and that’s why I asked my mom! because I wanna get the core straightened out

[freddiesaysalright]

Peace Like A River Part 2

A Gwilym Lee x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a stand up comic with a pretty dark past. She has a three new lights in her life: her daughter, Violet; her anonymous correspondent, Dear Friend; and Gwilym Lee.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tag List:  @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @simmisblog, @assembledherethevolunteers, @lookuptotheskiesandsee If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Wow, you all caught on to the inspo from She Loves Me real quick lol! One of my favorite musicals of all and definitely a part of what inspired this fic. Hope you enjoy the update!

Part I

Part 2 here we go!!!

Saturday was approaching faster than you wished. On Friday night, before getting on stage, you were tempted to text Gwilym and cancel. And then call your mother and cancel going to the reunion as well. If it hadn’t been for Stacy, you absolutely would have done those things. Unfortunately, your assistant was strong willed and persistent. You were going. You thought her real intentions were to get you to see Gwilym more romantically and forget about Dear Friend. But you could never forget Dear Friend, even if Gwilym was sickeningly handsome and fun to hang out with.

On Saturday, Gwilym arrived to pick you and Violet up from your hotel around noon. You wore a simple blouse and jeans and had Violet in a dress your mother had sent her a few weeks earlier. Violet twirled around in the lobby and giggled. 

“Careful, sweetie, you’re gonna get dizzy,” you warned gently.

“If she falls, I’ll catch her,” Gwilym said as he walked up.

You beamed at him. “Aren’t you a gentleman?”

“I do what I can,” he returned. “Are you ladies ready?”

“We are,” you said. “Violet, can you say hi to Gwilym?”

“Hi!” she chirped, waving to him.

“Hello, sweet girl!” he returned, along with the wave. He looked at you. “She’s certainly friendlier today.”

“It’s amazing how different they are when they aren’t tired,” you said. You turned to your daughter. “Take my hand, baby.”

She obeyed. She reached her other hand toward Gwil. 

“It’s the rule,” she told him.

“Well, who am I to argue with rules?” he said with a smile.

He offered her his hand and she wrapped her little fist around his pinky. Together, you all walked out of the hotel and to the waiting car. Gwilym helped Violet in first and then you. You looked at the floor and smiled. He had brought flowers. He climbed in beside you and closed the door.

“Flowers?” you questioned.

“Naturally,” he replied with a shrug. 

He picked them up and you saw there were two bouquets and a small bunch. He handed a bouquet to you.

“For you,” he said. The small bunch (which consisted of only three flowers) he handed to Violet. “For you, dear.”

“Thank you,” she said happily.

“And the last is for your mother,” he finished.

“Gwil…” you trailed off. “This is too much.”

“I’m just a dedicated actor,” he joked.

You laughed. “Whatever you say.”

The reunion was in Central Park. You and Gwilym discussed a plan and decided to go with as close to truth as possible. You had filmed together years ago and recently reconnected. It was just vague enough that it wouldn’t be hard to explain the “breakup” to your mother in a few weeks. You reached the park in no time and Gwilym helped you out of the car, just as he had helped you in. He held your hand as you walked across the grass toward your mother. Violet took off running to her grandmother, who scooped her up and kissed her cheek, leaving a big red lipstick mark. 

“Hi, Grammy!” Violet giggled.

“Hello, sweetheart!” she returned.

You and Gwilym finally caught up just as she was returning Violet to the ground. Immediately, her cousins pulled her aside to play. You smiled as she ran around with them, her curls bouncing right out of her ponytail.

“Mom, this is Gwilym,” you said. “Gwilym, this is my mother.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Gwilym said, extending the flowers to her.

She took them and smiled wide. “Oh, how thoughtful! Are you a special friend of Y/N’s?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” you lied. 

She let out such a shriek of delight, it startled you. She yanked a shocked Gwilym into a tight hug as she giggled.

“Finally!” she cried. “Thank God!”

She pulled away and straightened his shirt, still grinning like a madwoman.

“Mom, what the hell?” you demanded.

“I can’t help it, dear,” she returned. “I just - you know how long I’ve waited for someone to take care of you since you left Henry. Now you won’t have to do anymore of that vulgar comedy!”

“I’m still gonna do comedy,” you told her. “I’m not having this argument again.” You looked at Gwil. “Sorry about this.”

“No worries, love,” he assured you. 

“Oh, he’s so English,” your mother gushed. “Well, come on and meet the rest of us, Gwilym. We won’t bite you...until we know you better.” She giggled at herself.

“Mom,” you groaned.

Gwilym chuckled.

“Don’t encourage her,” you snapped.

“What? It was cute,” he argued.

Before you could answer, he was being dragged away by your mother to meet your dad, siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. You felt sorry for him as she paraded him around. The way she acted, you would think you’d won a prize. But to your mother, there was no greater prize than having a man in your life. Gwilym handled it all well, charming everyone. In fact, everyone was so enthralled with your pretend boyfriend, you were pretty much ignored. It hit you once again just how angry they still were at you for leaving Henry.

Your family was traditional. No one had ever gotten a divorce until you. What made it all the worse was that they loved Henry. He had them all so wrapped up in his big personality that no one saw that you were deteriorating beneath him. They never saw the monster that he was. When you divorced and announced that you were cutting him from your life - he was never to contact you again - they were devastated. They believed you when you explained you were abused, but none of them ever fully believed the extent of it. They were shocked to their collective core when he signed away all his rights to Violet. Now as you watched them fawn over Gwilym, that neglected feeling returned. Your stomach churned uncomfortably.

You took a seat on a bench and tried to swallow the lump that had appeared in your throat. It was especially bruising since you knew that if you were a man, you would be considered successful. You had two Netflix specials, after all. You were completely financially independent and provided a good life for your daughter. But because of your family’s backwards ideas, none of that meant anything. Simply because you were a single woman. Your eyes found Violet where she ran with her cousins. You could not allow her to grow up around people who made her feel less than just because of her gender. You took a deep breath.

A sigh escaped you just as Gwilym took a seat on your right. You looked at him and concern clouded his face as he handed you a glass of wine. You took a large gulp of it.

“Woah, are you alright?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, not really. I don’t wanna talk about it, but this is the last time I’m coming to one of these fucking things.”

“Did something happen?” he pressed.

“No,” you told him. “It’s what’s been happening my whole life. I left my husband to protect my daughter, and I’ll leave my family too if I have to.”

“I’m confused,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him. “It’s just...it’s my own shit that I’m realizing now that I brought someone here. Thank you for coming, Gwilym, really.”

“I’m sorry for...whatever it is that’s hurting you,” he replied. “I’m glad I was helpful to you. Your family is certainly unique in their beliefs. Your mother mentioned twice to me that you refused to give Violet her father’s last name.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, not that again.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked. “Just out of curiosity.”

“Because she’s not his,” you said. “She’s mine.”

“So he has no contact with either of you?” 

“No,” you said firmly. “I’d never let my daughter around that animal.”

A beat passed as he looked at you. It was not pity in his gaze. Admiration lay behind his eyes, and you appreciated that. So many people pitied you when you talked about your marriage. Part of the reason you joked about it was so that people would not look at you with pity. Humor has a way of showing people you were over it, even if you weren’t.

“It amazes me how you were able to pull yourself out of that,” he told you. “I know another woman who was in a similar situation and had the courage to leave, and I can’t say it enough...you’re impressive.”

Tears stung your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. 

“Thank you,” you said.

Somehow, it was exactly what you needed to hear. His timing was almost as good as Dear Friend’s. Your heart rested again. Even so, you only stayed for about another hour before you left the reunion. As the car pulled away from the park, relief began to wash over you. Violet crawled onto Gwilym’s lap and dozed against his chest. You closed your eyes and leaned your head on his shoulder. 

“I’ve got some tired girls,” he said with a small laugh.

You nodded. “Sorry if this is weird, I just feel heavy.”

“Rest, Y/N, I don’t mind,” he replied.

When you reached the hotel again, Gwilym carried the now sleeping Violet up to your room. You followed close behind and felt an ache in your heart. Why couldn’t she have had a father like him? Or like Dear Friend? It was so unfair. He put her in bed and you pulled the covers up over her shoulders.

“Thanks again,” you said to Gwil. “For everything. Let me know if you ever need a fake date to something. I’m your girl.”

He smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You walked him to the door and you found yourself sad to see him go. You didn’t know when you would see him again.

“I’m sorry your day was so difficult,” he said as he took hold of the knob.

You held his gaze. “Not all of it was.”

He released the door and pulled you into a hug. You held each other for a long moment. It felt like it was two years ago. Like he was truly your friend. You heaved a sigh in his arms and drank in the moment, telling yourself you would do better about maintaining the friendship this time.

“We’ll see each other soon,” he said, sounding just a little unsure.

“I’ll make sure we do,” you replied.

With a quick goodbye, he left. You watched him disappear down the hall. With another sigh, you closed the door. 

The following week, you were in Boston. You felt lighter now that you had rid yourself of the burden of your family. Even though you only ever saw them at reunions, it was freeing to get away from that. However, your heart grew heavier the longer it took to hear from Dear Friend. It was taking longer than usual to get a letter back, and it sat in the back of your mind as you went through your set.

“It’s hilarious to me when men argue about women’s issues,” you said to another large crowd. “Like, women can say something as simple as ‘hey, can we maybe get paid the same amount of money to do the same job as you?’ and men immediately go ‘oh, so we can hit you now?’”

You heard mostly women in the audience laugh.

“Oh, it’s ridiculous. How is that even related? I would love for someone to explain that logic to me. Because in case y’all didn’t know, you’re already hitting us and getting away with it,” you went on. “My ex-husband beat the shit out of me and I never once got a check in the mail afterwards.”

You took a drink of water as they laughed some more.

“When has that ever been the exchange?” you continued. “And what the fuck do you mean ‘we can hit you now’? You’ve only not been able to legally hit us within the last hundred years, before women were being paid to do anything! Not to mention, you still fucking do it anyway! Our salaries have never made a difference in whether or not you hit us!”

About half the audience cheered, and you soaked in the applause, but your mind wandered briefly to Dear Friend once more. You caught a glimpse of Stacy backstage and hoped she had a letter for you.

“I realize the men in the room are probably a little uncomfortable right now,” you said. “But to be honest, fellas, I didn’t know y’all were coming.”

They laughed.

“So just sit there and take that shit, honestly,” you finished with a shrug. 

You continued on through your set and got to the end, where you talked about Violet and shared that part of your life with them. As you took your bows and headed off stage, Stacy smiled at you and held up an envelope. Your heart skipped a beat. You would recognize that handwriting from anywhere. Dear Friend. At last.

“Finally!” you cried, taking the letter from her and tearing it open.

“Good show, by the way,” she said, smirking.

“Thank you,” you replied distractedly. You opened the letter and your eyes scanned across it, taking in every word.

“Dear Friend,” it began, as that was his name for you as well. “I’d like to begin by apologizing for this letter taking so long to reach you. I’m travelling right now and my post is being forwarded to me. I do hope you weren’t too worried. I could never abandon you, darling. I’m happy to hear all is well with you. I read a quote from Tolstoy the other day that made me think of you and our relationship. It went, ‘I already love in you your beauty, but I am only beginning to love in you that which is eternal and ever precious - your heart, your soul. Beauty one could get to know and fall in love with in one hour and cease to love it as speedily; but the soul one must learn to know. Believe me, nothing on earth is given without labor, even love, the most beautiful and natural of feelings.’

“Isn’t that a lovely sentiment? Although I don’t know what you look like, I feel I do know your soul. We have worked hard to establish such a love. I do feel that I love you. Have I ever said it to you before? Well, I’ll say it again. I love you. I love you. I love you. Who cares what it means to others as long as we know what we mean to each other? Looking forward to your response as always. Yours, Dear Friend.” 

You hurried back to your hotel, tucked Violet into bed, and then sat down to write a response. Your heart was fluttering around in your chest like a hummingbird. He loved you. You could now tell him you felt the same. Yet another sense of freedom washed over you. You were in love. For perhaps the first time in your life. With a trembling hand, you began to write back. 

Dear Friend. That was a lovely sentiment from Tolstoy. I admit I haven’t been reading as much lately since I too am travelling. Where are you in the world? My heart goes with you!

I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to know your true feelings! It’s given me the strength to be vulnerable and express my own! I love you. I love you. I love you. Can you believe we’ve gone so long without saying these simple words? I’m so relieved to have them out there. And I can safely say I’ve never felt so strongly for another person before.

You started to write the next line, but the sound of a voice from the hallway turned your blood cold. The voice of a man who was everything Dear Friend was not. He was talking on the phone judging by the lack of responses between phrases. But what on Earth was your ex-husband doing in Boston?

Shaking your head, you reasoned with yourself. Henry was a sergeant with the NYPD. He was much too busy to be making random trips out of town. You had to be mistaken. The mystery man and his frightening voice faded down the hall, and you released a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding. Nearly four years had passed since you left him, and Henry still scared you stiff. You hated his lingering hold on you.

You glanced at Violet, who was still sleeping soundly.  Feeling an extra need to be near, you got up and walked over, sitting carefully next to her. You reached out your hand and ran a gentle finger through her curls. She barely stirred and rolled over, cuddling closer to you subconsciously. She took a deep breath as she nuzzled down into your lap and you felt a surge of affection for her. 

What you said to Dear Friend wasn’t necessarily true. You had felt a strong love - perhaps the strongest in the world - but he didn’t know about Violet. That felt more like an in-person conversation to have. If you could ever work up the courage to meet him.

Out of nowhere, your phone buzzed on the bedside table. You snatched it up and saw that the caller was Gwilym. A smile claimed your lips as you swiped to answer.

“Hello?” you whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” he wondered.

“Violet’s asleep,” you returned lowly. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Oh it is rather late, isn’t it?” he chuckled. “Are you still in Boston?”

“Yeah,” you told him. “Are you in town?”

“Not yet,” he replied. “But I will be tomorrow. I’ve got this charity gala thing that...well, a person invited me to, and let’s just say it would be better for my pride if I had a date.”

“Oh, I see,” you said with a smirk. “Your ex invited you.”

“How’d you guess?” he asked with a laugh.

“Gee, I dunno, maybe it was the vague ass description and the fact that you need a date,” you teased.

“Can you come?” he pressed.

“Yeah, tonight was my last show, and I don’t fly out for another two days,” you assured him. “Do I need to get a gown?”

“Yeah, it’s black tie,” he said.

“How sexy do you want it to be?” you wondered.

He chuckled and you felt your heart speed up. You narrowed your eyes at yourself. What the hell was that about?

“Make it classy,” he said. “But with a little something extra.”

“Got it,” you returned. “How’s the promo going?”

“It’s loads of fun, but I’m looking forward to doing something else for at least one evening,” he said. “With some fresh company.”

“I’m telling Joe you said that,” you joked.

“Eh, he won’t hook up with me for a few days, but it’s no big deal,” he replied.

You snorted.

“How’s tour?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s sort of the same stuff every day, so I’m looking forward to changing it up as well.”

“Glad to be of service,” he said. “Hey, have you ever thought about touring in England?”

“You think I’d do well over there?” you pondered.

“Sure you would,” he assured you.

“I am a pretty funny fucker, aren’t I?” you remarked.

He laughed. “The funniest of all the fuckers, no doubt.”

You giggled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gwil.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.”

You hung up. Violet stirred again and her eyes fluttered open. She looked sleepily up at you.

“Mommy…”

“What is it, sweetie?” you asked.

“Had a dream,” she said.

“What did you dream?”

“You and Mister Gwilym got married,” she said. “In Mexico.”

“Oh?” you chuckled. “Was it a nice wedding?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Until I got captured by monkeys.” 

You laughed. “That would make it a sad day.”

“S’okay, you saved me,” she assured you.

“I’ll always protect you,” you said, stroking her cheek gently. 

Her eyes slowly closed again, and she was asleep. You got up and went to finish your letter to Dear Friend. You read over your words again and your heart soared. You were in love. The most beautiful and natural of feelings.

[hitchell-mope]

(Film three. After “pirates medley”. The hook sisters have just run into an alleyway near the marketplace)

Harriet: ya shouldna done kiddo

Cj: why not.

Harriet: because it wasn’t a good move

Cj: you might like men drooling all over you but I hate it.

Harriet: you agreed to it.

Cj: I didn’t think they’d try that. So I’d apprecrie you dispensing with the victim blaming if you please.

Harriet: yeah yeah whatever. Lookee o’er there

Cj: aw FUCK!

(They’ve just spotted chadeficent and Ursula some ways away)

Harriet: SEA WITCH!

Ursula: oh god. (Fake smile) Harriet! To what do I owe the

(Cj shoots her in the stomach with a blunderbuss)

The sisters: where is he.

(Ursula straightens up and the bullet flies out of her stomach hitting some poor sap in the head)

Chadeficent: that was Balthazar yes?

The other three: who the hell cares?

Harriet: where is my brother?

Ursula: hmmmmm. Dunno don’t care. That work for you?

(Harriet lunges are the sea witch but Cj holds her back. While this is happening Hadie poofs back in slightly singed and very pissed off)

Hadie: for the record Rodan. I don’t appreciate being sent to Dark Mountain. Chernabog may be insultingly attractive but he’s far too fatherly for my tastes.

Cj: shove off spawn. There’s more important matters at hand

(Hadie chuckles sinisterly. Then force chokes the sisters)

Hadie: oh look at that. Fragile necks and bravado are such an inexplicable combination. And as you will see very soon. Deadly

Harriet: he.. he he mi...dea.

Cj: he...gone

Hadie: what? What’re you talking about?

Chadeficent: oh I think you know

(Hadie’s eyes glow bright grey. He drops the sisters, takes out a silver knife and throws it at Ursula. It slashes her cheek)

Hadie: ever heard of phlegathon tempered steel? It cuts you. Then heals you. But keeps you in burning unbearable pain. Until such time the wielder chooses to release you from it.

(Ursula’s cheek is starting to burn. Steam is curling from the edges of the cut)

Ursula: I was exiled from Atlantica. Whatever petty wound you deal me is of no consequence.

Hadie: yeah but (he sighs) cut you enough and it burns away your very being. So. What’ll it be bitch?

(Ursula growls in irritation and disappears in a torrent of water)

Hadie: now that that’s over oh cripes they’re gone.

(Chadeficent and the girls have left the scene. At the Jolly Roger Hook is waiting on deck)

Hook: GIRLS! What the hell have you been doing. Dukes is dead. And the men say you killed him Cj. If you keep doing this you’ll never land a husband.

Cj: aye. And what of it father?

Harriet: oh god not now.

Cj: yes now. Our brother has been missing for a year now and may as well be dead and all he cares about is his disgusting heterosexual misogynistic bastards of a crew

Harriet (coughing): code red. Code red

Hook: what’re you saying Cj?

Cj: what d’you think I’m saying dad?

Hook: it sounds as though you’re thinking to much like your freak of a brother

Harriet: Harry was bisexual pops

Hook: like I said. A freak. Men are with women. Women are with men. It’s the law of the world. And I expect my children abide by that

Cj: yes and when they don’t you cast them out and they need to take refuge somewhere else. Say a restaurant run by a squid

Hook: if you have something to say then say it.

Cj: ok. I like girls. Always have. Always will. And you cannae change it or me

(Starkey hobbles outside with a tea set. Sees the family feud. Starts to make his way back inside)

Hook: STARKEY! Did you know about Cj’s affliction

Cj: oh here we go

Starkey (diplomatically): uhhhh. I believe that. She. Wanted

Cj: it’s ok uncle Starkey. I told him last year. Considering he was the one that raised me while you were brainswashing Harriet into being Captain Hook 2.0 and Harry was fuck knows were trying to get Tick Tock to chomp his hand off in a vain attempt to get your approval!!!!

Hook: in time this will pass and you’ll be just like your sister

Cj (scoffing): of course. Be like Harriet. The pretty one. The smart one. The obedient one.

Harriet (for once very sheepish): Ceej. Could ya please lemme outta this?

Cj: no. He’s always wanted me to be like you. But guess what. I’m never gonna be who you want me to be

(This is when “sit still look pretty” happens. After the song Cj storms off)

Hook: and do you have any oddities you’d like to share Harriet? Because if so nows the time

Harriet: yes. As a matter of fact I do. For the past seven years I’ve been in uh heh “cahoots” with Gaston junior.

Hook: like the freak and the pansy

Harriet: sort of. Except theirs was more emotional. Ours is. Purely on the physical side. And yes. I’m the boss.

(Hook goes puce)

Harriet: uncle Starkey. I’ll be back presently

(She runs after her sister)

Hook: take me back to my quarters Starkey

Starkey: of course sir.

(He wheels the captain back in side. Harriet catches up with Cj. She finds her in an alleyway surrounded by the felled bodies of ten dogs and one cat)

Harriet: what the hell did you do.

Cj: the one thing I ever got from him, that wasn’t a hand me down from you or Har, was this.

(She holds up a whistle)

Harriet: wow

Cj: yep. Turns out it’s a dog whistle. Which pretty succinctly explains how the bastards could hear it all the way across Neverland when Jane found the treasure

Harriet: and the morbidly obese demon on four legs?

Cj: Tremaine’s moggy

Harriet: right. What you did was incredibly brave you know.

Cj: I don’t like animals.

Harriet: I meant what happened at home just now

Cj: I know. Like I said. I don’t like animals.

(At the core fours old apartment chadeficent has just arrived. Only to see Jafar watching tv)

Chadeficent: hello worthless. Miss me?

Jafar: who...?

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): this better?

Jafar (exasperated): you couldn’t have taken control of a pretty one?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): fuck off you crypt keeper

(Jafar looks taken aback)

Chadeficent: bugs are to be worked out

Jafar: what is it?

Chadeficent: spawn of Cinderella

Jafar: you couldn’t have got the ash girl herself?

Chadeficent: too strong willed (Chad’s indignant voice) hey! (Maleficent’s voice) SILENCE! (Both voices) I am creating a cult. To destroy our children. Ursula is aboard. What say you?

(The next morning. At Evie’s palce)

Mal:...and Ben found them this morning passed out on the couch with like eight tubs of deluxe rocky road ice scattered at round.

Jay: deluxe?

Mal: chocolate marshmallow ice cream instead of chocolate ice cream

Jay (hopefully): Christmas list?

Mal (generating a tin with magic): why wait?

Jay: ooh yay!

Evie: AH! No. Not yet

Jay: awww. I’ve been here for an hour

Mal: let the man eat sis. It’s the least you can do since you are stabbing him with pins when you could just use 🎶🎶magic🎶. By the way. Your hair remarkably black today

Evie (snarling): get outta workshop

(Mal leaves cackling. She goes to the kitchen where Carlos is giving a plate the thousand yard stare)

Mal: hey kiddo. What’s up?

Carlos (softly with a lot of feeling): the cake...it’s gone. An entire macadamia nut chocolate sponge cake. Gone. How? There was enough for fifty people to have two slices each. And it’s all gone. How can it all be gone?

(The twins and Gil come racing pass the room screeching at the top of their lungs with food all around their mouths)

Mal (aside to Carlos): I think I know. (Normal volume). Gil! Could you bring the kids in here please?

(Gil troops back to the kitchen with the twins trailing behind. All three look terrified. Carlos and Mal lift the twins up onto the counter)

Mal (“mom” voice in full effect): now boys. Did you ask your papa to get the cake from the fridge?

Twins: uhhhh...

Mal: it’s ok. I’m not mad. I just wanna. If it was you then that’s ok. If it was Dude then we need to get him to a veterinarian.

Carlos: WHAT?!?!

Mal: oh shit. Sorry honey.

Carlos: listen to me you rotten little————(the twins look at him with the epitome of puppy eyed innocence) 🎶dad. Where are you. You’re good with this type of stuff🎶

Mal: paperwork

Carlos: fuck

Gil: it was us. Squeaky wanted a snack and I couldn’t find anything in the fridge but the cake. We only meant to share a corner but Celia oh crap

Mal: 🎶oh Celia🎶

(The girl melts out from the shadows clutching her stomach)

Mal: did you help Gil and the twins eat the entirety of Jane’s birthday cake?

Celia: if I says yes what would you do.

Mal: give you an antacid and advise you to take it easy with the party food.

Celia: then yes. I helped.

Mal: come on then.

(They head to the bathroom. But Mal’s phone starts ringing)

Mal: it’s Ben. Do you know how to get to the bathroom?

Celia: Dizzy sent me a schematic last night

Mal: good. That’s good. If evo finds out I will plead the fifth. You do know that don’t you?

Celia: wouldn’t expect anything less. See ya

(She runs off)

Mal (answering her cell phone): hello your majesty. Any idea on your eta or should I send your apologies to Jane?

Ben: I wish I was close to being done. But there are so many papers to get through and there’s no use in denying it. People are terrified at what ever killed the guards.

Mal: I could come and help you?

Ben: no. Definitely not. Go have fun. Do the routine.

Mal: but you’ll miss it. Though a private rendition for your eyes only could also be very interes-

Cogsworth: ahem hello my lady

Mal (trying not to laugh): sorry Carlton.

Cogsworth: that’s quite alright dear. I’ll just uh go ahem away

(He leaves and bal bursts into laughter)

Mal: oh that was oh god that

Ben: I I’m so sorry

Mal: don’t be. Just sorted a domestic so a I needed a laugh

(As they’re talking Mal’s walking outside)

Mal: what on the office menu today

Ben: chargrilled Damon foie gras and quinoa

Mal: what no pizza?

Ben: fraid not

Mal: I can always zap you some sausage rolls and mac and cheese cupcakes from the party

Ben: please and thank you?

Mal: and the new cake

Ben: Celia?

Mal: along with your brother and nephews. Carlos was not happy

Ben: of course.

Mal: hey, was chad supposed to meet us at Evie’s?

Ben: I don’t think so. Is he there?

Mal: yeah. Looking like the shalka Doctor.

Ben: oh.

Mal: I’ll go see what he wants

Ben: be careful. Love ya

Mal: always am. Love you too.

(She hangs up)

Mal: hey chad. Whatcha doing

(Chadeficent turns to look at her. Their eyes glow black. And Mal enacts the safety protocols on the house keeping everyone else inside and safe)

Mal: what did you do?

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): oh it’s not chad. Hello my sweet

Mal (breathing heavily): Maleficent?

Chadeficent: mhmm. Now give me my sceptre

Mal: what did you do to him?

Chadeficent: he is simply a mindless hormone driven teenage boy

Mal: yeah, I know, he’s an dickhead. Nobody likes him. At all

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice, very, very hurt): they don’t?

Mal: yeah. You’re insufferable.

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): ENOUGH! Give me the sceptre

Mal: you stole the wand didn’t you. And the staff and the mirror. So why do you need the sceptre.

Chadeficent: I want everything of importance (Chad’s voice) I wanna be king (Maleficent’s voice) I want my daughter back

Mal: I’m not your daughter. And chad you hate magic. Why would you use it to be king?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): I uh I dunno (Maleficent’s voice) he was easily bought with a butter finger and empty promises I have absolutely no intention on fulfilling. Now. The sceptre.

Mal (mind working a mile a minute): h how, how about a story. And I can make you a cup of tea yeah? Or coffeee?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): ooh beer (Maleficent’s voice) very well. But be quick about it

Mal: ok. Ok um

(She turns to the drinks table. This is when “she’s so gone” happens. After which Chadeficent picks her up from the splintered table by the neck)

Mal: why...are..you...doing...this?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): you don’t deserve this. None of it. You belong on that slag heap. You deserve to rot. To be forgotten. I want you all dead. Don’t you see? You can’t be queen. It’s not right. Audrey should be queen. And I should be king

Mal: but...Ben

Chadeficent (still Chad’s voice): ALL OF YOU WILL DIE. YOU. THE MAGIC PEOPLE THE RUNT THE CHICKS THE TRAIOR THE FREAK OF A DWARF. ALL OF YOU. DEAD (Maleficent’s voice) as for me. I want to break you. For you to see how useless you truly are without me.

Mal (turning purple in the face now): get...bent

(Chadeficent drops her and pulls out the wand)

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): there’s never been an ugly bitch who’s been queen. Looks are everything. Bibbidi bobbidi boo

(Mal is washed is black light which solidified into a black cloak. The houses doors are blasted off their hinges and jay stands there completely gold and absolutely buzzing with power. Chadeficent cackles as they disappear in black smoke. Jay and the others rush to Mal’s side)

Carlos: oh my god! Mom are you ok?

Mal (voice hoarse thin and cracked): yes ahem yes ye yeah. What the hells wrong with my voice

(Evie takes the hood off of Mal and cackles)

Evie: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH MY GOD! YOU LOOK LIKE

Jay (unimpressed with her behaviour): your mother. When she gave the apple to Doug’s aunt

(Evie stops cackling)

Carlos: what happened

Mal: Chad’s possessed by Maleficent. He wants to kill us all and be king

Carlos: and goat lady?

Mal: wants to break me

Evie: so what do we do

Celia: isn’t it obvious? Hades. Your father.

Evie: he is not

Celia: Mal was right and you know it. So stop pissing about and help me get your sister inside the house so she can get some proper clothes on cause an old lady in a minidress is not a good look. I should know. Cruella used to come to the arcade in the warm days. It’s was horrifying. Thank you Carlos for killing her last year by the way

Carlos: much obliged Ceels.

(Mal’s phone rings again. This time Carlos is the one to answer it)

Carlos: hi yes dad. Ok brace yourself. Chad has the wand. He’s possessed by Maleficent. He wants us all dead. Barricade yourself in your office. Emergency protocols. All that shizz. You have magic so you should be fine. We’re gonna stop them. It’s what we do. Us too (he ends the call) that’s dad sorted. Now how do we fix mom?

Celia: go to the island. Get the ember. Come back here. Kick him in the balls until he’s exorcised

Mal: Gil. You coming with us?

Gil: I would but. My boys

Doug: I’ll stay with them. I have my exosuit. I’ll keep them safe. I promise you I will

Gil: ok

Evie: oh my god!

Doug: our kid is fine. She’s with Lonnie and Jane. You know. A badass and a light fairy.

Evie: oh thank god

Jay: so we all know what we’re doing. Action time?

All the others: action time

Squirmy: AAAAAH

Gil (panicky): what? What is it? What’s wrong

Squirmy: I want to give the pretty lady my present

(He holds up a bouquet of periwinkle blue tulips. Everyone relaxes)

Gil: Jane will love them. But it could be a good idea to keep them here. Just until we’re all back together. Yeah?

Squirmy (unhappily): yeah

Doug: c’mon boys. You can help me bake a new cake.

The twins: YAAAAAAAAY

(They run back in. Evie goes up and embraces Doug)

Evie: we’ll be back soon as possible

Doug: take however long you need. I stabbed someon in the junk last year. I can defend myself

Evie: oh I know that. It’s just that

Doug: Evie sweetie. Look at me. I’ll be fine. I promise. And if I need to reach you there’s our phones the the psychic link you set up.

Evie (voice breaking): I...

Doug (understandingly): me too. Now let’s go

(They all run back into the house except for one)

Mal: uh. Guys

Jay: oh. Right

(He runs back and carries her to the house)

Mal: watch the hip. Watch the hip

Jay: yeah yeah yeah.

Celia: so do we get the the island. The limos?

Evie: no. They’re all the the school garages until next week.

Celia: then we’re screwed?

Mal: not entirely

Jaylos and Evie: THE BIKES

Celia: what?

Mal: how I left last year

(At the cliff site. The six of them are on their bikes. Celia’s hanging on to Gil)

Carlos: go on mom

Mal (voice still croaky): noble steed proud and fair/you shall take us anywhere

(They drive over the magic bridge to the island. Back in Auradon Chadeficent is making their way to Jane’s birthday party)

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): are you sure this shall work? (Chad’s voice) it had better. They all deserve it for hating me

[andaleduardo]

Rooftop N.10

Ao3   N.9   N.11

Preview: But there’s little Eddie could have done to avoid actions that weren’t his. Richie is free to act, and feel, and say. And Eddie is free to trap himself up in self-hate if it means being protected from everyone else's cruel opinions.

Monday 24.05.1993

 Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

Every drop of blood left Eddie’s face.

“Talk?” He asked, suddenly dizzy. He wasn’t even surprised when his voice broke. Eddie also wasn’t really looking forward to whatever Richie opened his mouth to say right then, so he cut him off before he even had the chance to answer. “Sure, okay.” He shrugged. And Richie’s mouth successfully closed.

After that, Eddie turned his face around and pretended that things weren’t even slightly uncomfortable. The rest of the ride went by utter silent. And maybe the reason Eddie was gripping the side of the truck was so that he could bend over if his need to vomit actually ended up in the worst way.

 Fuck.

He isn’t dumb. Eddie had a feeling that, regardless of what Richie intends to say, their friendship will take a hit to the core. Both their hearts, too. The worst part, he dares to think, is that this is his fault. (Well, if he’s going to be honest, it’s both their fault.)

But there’s little Eddie could have done to avoid actions that weren’t his. Richie is free to act, and feel, and say. And Eddie is free to trap himself up in self-hate if it means being protected from everyone else's cruel opinions. He’d do anything. Eddie would back off, put a break on his stupid urges and feelings, if needed. He would get down on both knees and beg time to turn back.

 ‘I’ll be good! I’ll be good! I promise I’ll stop, and I’ll stay away and I’ll be a better person. But please, don’t make me-’

Anything, to prevent the damage altogether. Anything. Because if there’s one thing that haunts Eddie on a daily basis, it’s having to confront his true desires…

…is having to admit that those people’s words mirror who he is. Is having to accept that when his mom casually speaks about those people with disgust, she is also talking about him. When they have dinner, when they’re coming back from church, or when they’re watching movies and she comments on certain actors she believes are… well… just like her son, after all.

But maybe he’s just reading into things the wrong way. There’s a chance that this ‘talk’ is about some stupid meaningless thing. Sure… He’ll hold on to that thought.

By his side, Richie kept his face buried in his arms, but Eddie didn’t want to think about what that meant. He didn’t want to think about anything involving Richie, either his words or actions, at all.

And deep down, Richie was questioning his own sanity. Why did he say that out loud? What had gone through his head in that moment? Seriously, why the fuck did he think, even for a second, that suggesting this would have been a good idea? He doesn’t know.

The only thing he was sure off, in that moment, was Eddie’s reaction to his words. He had looked scared and upset, and Richie caused it. Everything’s fucked up because, as usual, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Hell … What is he supposed to do now?! Maybe he could…

 ‘Hey, so, I’m head over heels for you. Yeah, there’s that. Maybe we could kiss for the next five hours or something?’

Fucking ridiculous. But it’s not like he has a lot of time to think through his options.

There was a hard slap on the rear window that made both of them jump in their seats. They must have been distracted, (with enough reasons to…) because Richie just noticed that the truck had been parked by the sidewalk on Eddie’s street for the past 30 or so seconds.

Awkwardly, they helped each other take down their bikes. After saying their goodbyes and ignoring the smirks thrown their way for leaving together, which Richie would have been very eager for in other circumstances, they stood in the middle of the road watching the vehicle disappear at the end of the street.

They had been dropped off with a safe distance from Eddie’s house, so they had a short walk ahead of them. With the backpack hanging from one shoulder and both hands to guide his bike by his right side, ever so slowly, Eddie started to walk. Richie’s feet seemed to be glued to the ground for a second, but luckily, he managed to move slightly behind.

In the ten seconds that followed, he had gained courage to open his mouth twice, or more, but not enough to speak. There was no script, and he was lost. A punch to the face, it’s what he fucking deserves.

Just man up! He thinks. Grow some fucking balls, Richie. There was a tiny chance this could go smoothly…

“Fuck this.”

He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but the words seemed to echo in the empty street. Before Eddie could react, Richie grabbed his hand and turned him around less gently than intended. In the process of it, he had to let go of his bike and it dropped on the ground with a painful metallic scrape.

For a second, Eddie was quiet, stiff, startled, you name it. He struggled to turn around without stumbling over his own bike, but at the sight of a bright red Richie, he forgot all about it and let his right hand slip away from the handle. It fell on the asphalt behind him. Somehow, they were trapped closed together by their own bikes.

Eddie’s eyes were large, and he lowered his focus point to Richie’s shoulder blades. Not here. He thought. Don’t do this here, Richie, you dumbass.

“Look at me, Eds.” Richie begged, voice just a little strained.

Eddie shook his head, breathing growing harsher and eyelids fluttering, trying to fight back the tears pooling in his waterline. He looked terrified. That’s how he felt, too. This all seemed a little too familiar, too much like that night outside of Mike’s barn.

Oh, how he regrets, now. That night, all the other times, everything before, in between or after… Wishes nothing had ever slipped between them and take them to this point. The no turning back point.

Richie squeezed his hand, feeling useless and guilty. It felt like there was a chestnut clogging up his throat when he opened up his mouth and nothing came out besides a squeezed whine. He didn’t plan this, he didn’t mean to do this under a darkening sky, completely out of nowhere. But now it was too late to call it a joke, wasn’t it?

Eddie’s hand felt completely limp in Richie’s hold. Painfully, Richie tried to swallow down the knot in his throat, and for a moment he could feel a painful heartbeat raging on his left temple. He had to bring his free hand up to his mouth.

“I think I might puke.” The words were mostly muted by his palm.

This revelation seemed to make Eddie break out of his frozen state. He squeezed Richie’s hand back, finally giving a sign of life.

“Are you serious?” His words were shaking. “Richie, I swear, if you ruin my second pair of shoes-”

That worked like a charm.

Out of nowhere, Richie started to giggle, maybe from nerves, maybe relieved that the tension was broke. He looked at Eddie fondly. The boy’s eyes were still shiny with tears, but his pale face was starting to grow some color.

“What’s so funny? Are you fucking with me?” Eddie spoke apprehensively. He took his hand away from Richie’s, breaking the contact. The action caused Richie’s smile to falter, but he was quick to recompose himself.

“No, not a joke. M’not fucking around.” His fingers took a longer time to stop inching towards Eddie’s wrist. “I’m trying.”

After a deep sigh in the lingering silence, Eddie started to scratch his own arm while looking around the street apprehensively.

‘Great.’ Richie thought, heartbroken. ‘This is going just great.’

“No one’s around.” He tried to soothe Eddie. It wasn’t working, the boy gave no signs of listening, instead looking behind Richie’s back for any signs of a watcher. With a heavy sign, Richie took a step back and considered the option of pretending he had never said anything and just leave.

“I’m sorry, I-” Eddie’s eyes trailed everywhere, but they never once met Richie’s. “We should, maybe, talk inside?” It wasn’t meant to sound like a question, but it did come off that way. A very desperate, tired question.

That was when Richie’s heart kind of stopped. He was really starting to like the idea of going home, now. There are a million questions he wants to ask. About Sonia. About privacy. About how he’s about to fucking die if his words get stopped from being said one more time. In the end, he offered a simple smile and a shrug while bending down to get his bike off the ground.

“Might wanna change the sandals, Eds. Don’t want your mom to freak out.” He straightened his back as his shoulders shook with an ironic laugh.

 Wait until she spies on us or bangs the door open to find me sitting in your bed like a good boy.

Ironic, alright.

Eddie took the advice and sat on the sidewalk to change into his sneakers once again. They were still wet, would probably be for days, but maybe she wouldn’t notice the change in color. And if he took them out as soon as he passed the door…

For his own sake, Eddie kept thinking about his mom while they silently made their way to his front yard, which wasn’t really a yard, just dead grass at this point. They stopped at a safe distance from the front porch. Richie was mumbling things under his breath when Eddie turned around to stare at him with uncertainty.

Richie was a mere second away from saying:

‘You know what, Eds? It’s getting darker and I think I’m going now. Get back to my pops since he’s doing good today. This was just to mess with ‘ya’.

Maybe he could even lock Eddie’s head under his armpit and mess up his hair like he used to do every day in middle school. That habit ended once Eddie claimed he’d get a hole in his skull if Richie kept it up, then Richie did it again and one of his knuckles was smudged pink.

It had terrified Richie, then, but Eddie seemed to be fine until he saw the evidence on Richie’s hand. After that, yeah, he had screamed and punched him, and Richie was mean enough to start shaking with laughter. He just couldn’t help it, the look on his face-

“I’ll meet you up in a moment.” Eddie announced before heading off to drop his bike closer to the house and get inside. Richie was left standing there with a stupid smile brought up by the memory.

A little lost, he kept staring at the back of Eddie’s head until the front door opened. That made him jolt awake and rush to go around the house and stand beneath his usual spot.

It took him a while to gather enough courage to climb inside.

-

When Eddie stepped inside, the first thing he did was to get his shoes off once again. He grimaced when he noticed that now his socks were stained wet, but he had a feeling his mom would be concerned about other things, because once he rounded the kitchen’s door frame, he laid eyes on the clock hanging from the wall. It was already seven.

“Hey mom.” He greeted her and tried to play it cool, walked into the kitchen to give her a kiss on the cheek. She seemed surprised. “Sorry I’m so late, what are you making?” Trying to keep the questions from coming, he put his attention on to the pots in the stove. “Smells good.”

Her face was strained, she wanted to complain, Eddie noticed. But he saw the moment she dropped it, with much self-control, and returned to her task of pouring salt in the rice. “Just chicken and rice, Eddie. For dinner.”

He nodded, switched his body weight to the other leg, and contemplated leaving her in the kitchen to go upstairs. But then he thought about Richie sitting in his bed, waiting for him. And Eddie couldn’t do it, he had to stall and buy some time, somehow.

“Do you need any help?”

Sonia’s working hands stopped for a second before she recomposed herself. “No need. Just tell me about your day, what took up your time, dear?”

So, that’s exactly what Eddie did. He sat by the kitchen table, damp socks on the cold tile, and filled her in on his day, lie by lie. And oh, how guilt consumed him. He was lying to his mom, feeding her with sweet talk. Lying to himself, by running away from things. And soon he’d probably be lying to Richie’s face, no matter which path the night took.

How did it come to this? Eddie couldn’t answer. But soon enough he was feeling like the worst person in the world. He blanked out from the conversation, a deadpan stare fixed on his mom’s large back, until he waited so long to answer one of her questions that she actually turned around. Her questioning eyes broke him off the internal monologue, and he quickly jumped to his feet and said he was going to hang around his room until she called him for dinner.

Sonia didn’t complain, and Eddie would have taken his sweet time to feel surprised if he wasn’t so nervous. He dragged his socked feet stair by stair, backpack straps loose around one wrist, and the pair of shoes hanging by the shoelaces on the other.

He was left staring at his closed bedroom door before making a last minute decision and heading off towards the bathroom, instead. As the professional liar he concluded to be just now, he told himself he needed to put the sunscreen back in its place, and stayed locked up for some extra ten minutes, instead.

-

It was funny, Richie supposed. Here he was, pacing the small floor area of Eddie’s room. A little over ten hours ago he had been here, doing the exact same thing. Pacing. And his heart had been the same, then, too. Racing.

Except that now the circumstances were way, way different.

After a bit of waiting that felt infernal, Richie could hear the faint sound of the bathroom’s faucet running. So that meant Eddie was also in the same place as he had been this morning.

See? Funny, he supposed. But he didn’t feel like laughing.

No, he felt like doing many things. None of them involved any sort of fun. He wanted to shout, maybe curse, jump the walls to waste some energy. Richie wanted to run away, but at the same time he couldn't, neither he wanted. He supposed, that’s we does best these days, assuming things.

The truth was, deep inside, Richie wanted more than ever for this to go the right way, but he knew that that wasn't the most likely outcome. Something ought to go wrong even if the day had been so perfect.

Deep inside he wanted Eddie to walk through that door, the one he’s staring at, terrified, and he wanted to hug the shit out of that boy. Pull him close against his chest and tell him how much he feels, how much more he could feel, how much he needs to have him, how much he wants to kiss him, how much he wants many things more, everything he’s allowed to.

And deep inside, Richie also knew that none of that would happen.

Most likely, a lot of things would have to change. The things he wants and already has. Like sleepovers and friendly hugs. And a good friend of many years. A friendship between two boys who want the same things but have different ways of dealing with that.

But it's not like Richie knows that, yet.

He had to entertain himself somehow while Eddie didn’t come. He settled by pacing around the room some more, feeling his heart racing sickly against his chest some more, as well as going through Eddie’s desk, and shelves, and boxes, and discarded clothes (not that there were many) and the stupid shelves again, because he saw the collection of stupid comics they both read together growing up. Richie did this because he could. Because he knew Eddie didn’t mind. And honestly, if he's wasn’t busy doing this he would have been hiding underneath the bed and wondering if, that way, he could escape the reality of his nightmare.

He was about to flip open one of the comic books, the one he remembers being Eddie's favorite, when the doorknob turned, and he felt his heart stop.

Not racing, not hurting, not about to break his ribcage in half as if it expected some kind of garden to grow out of it. Out of his broken chest. No, this time his heart felt calm, beating yet peaceful, because everything that has ever happened has come to this. And this was the moment Richie realized how tired he truly felt. The moment Eddie walked through that door, looking somewhat disheveled, was also the moment Richie saw his life for the past years flashing before his eyes. But not in a bad way, not in the way people say it happens when you die. It felt more like being born. coming to this world again. Simply realizing how much he felt, suffered, and lied for so long. How much he hid himself from the world, from his parents, from his friends, from Eddie, who was a friend but could be so much more, and from himself.

He wasn't ashamed of what he felt, he was almost proud. Because out of everyone Richie has ever known, Eddie was the best person to have fallen for. And what else could he feel besides grateful? It wasn’t about the cheesy love and what comes with it. It was about doing something he needed, and Richie was finally able to put the fear of rejection behind and accept whatever came to him. Good or bad. He was certain that, at least, peace would flow through his body for spilling out the truth.

Even if it meant being pushed away. Even if it meant many worse things he didn’t want to think about.

“Hey.” He said, low in the badly illuminated room. “How’s your mom?”

“Richie, please.” Eddie warned before gently closing the door behind himself, dropping his stuff on the ground and taking some uncertain steps towards nowhere in specific.

“Sorry.” Richie, who was still close to the shelf, put the comic book back in its place and turned around from the wall to face Eddie, who was now leaning against the dresser. Too familiar. “It was a genuine question.”

“Oh, okay.” Eddie started to play with his fingers. “She’s been good, calm for now.”

The boys stood in silence while Richie kept fidgeting in place, just shifting his weight from one leg to the other until accepting the awkwardness that was inevitably going to stick around.

There was a dry chuckle coming from the other side of the room that made him look up to look at a crossed-arm Eddie, visibly uncomfortable. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” With a shrug, Richie moved to sit on the foot of the bed, leaving them facing each other. “I was the one who wanted to talk.”

Eddie asked, quietly. “So… Will you?” He wished the answer was no.

Richie took a big gulf of air and stared at the floor near Eddie’s feet. “I don’t know how to say it.” Then he rubbed his palm over his knuckles harshly and placed both feet on a part of the bed-frame that was exposed, bending his knees to get more comfortable. “Look, Eds-”

“You don’t need to say anything.” Almost too quickly, Eddie interrupted, wishing that it didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

Richie furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and stared up at Eddie instead. “Yeah, but that’s… that’s kind of the point, you know? I wanted to talk…”

As if it was the most natural action, Eddie rolled his eyes and sighed. It made Richie’s stomach turn in an unpleasant way. “Richie, listen-”

“No, Eds. You listen.” He was kind of aggressive about it, to the point where Richie thought Eddie would reprehend to be quiet. But Eddie must have lost his sanity, then, because he practically screeched back.

“I don’t fucking want to.” And maybe it was just Richie feeling overall vulnerable at the moment, but he could only hear venom in it. Usually, he could see when Eddie was being cruel on purpose, as if he wanted to get away with being mean. Richie is familiar with it, with Eddie being unkind just because that’s how he learned to deal with things. But Richie was always able to see past that and catch the true emotions behind Eddie’s façade. This time, however, he sensed the hatred, nothing else, and as much as he wanted to believe there was more to it than that, maybe masking, or fear, Richie couldn’t help but think that he was a truly detestable person, and that, now, Eddie wanted nothing more than to see him gone.

This whole realization took him some time. Richie gaped, and stared, and bit his lips to prevent his jaw from shaking. “Was it… was it something I did?” Eddie’s face softened. “Did I say something?” Richie sounded broken.

As if he couldn’t take it anymore, Eddie buried his face in his hands and shook his head at the same time. “No.” He whined just before dragging his hands through his face and letting them drop. “I’m sorry, Rich. Fuck, I am.”

“Well then, what’s going on?” Richie asked with exasperation at this point. The adrenaline rushing through his body at the moment had him getting up again and walking slightly closer.

Suddenly looking rigid again, Eddie squared up his shoulders and locked eyes with Richie. “I should be the one asking you that.” He was calmer, but serious. “You throw a fucking bomb at me and now you’re stalling and-”

“So, do you want to hear me or not?” Richie asked, genuinely confused.

“God, no.” Eddie couldn’t have helped it. It just slipped off his lips before he had the chance to encourage Richie on.

With a dry chuckle, Richie threw his hands in the air. “Not a good fucking clue, Eds. You don’t want to hear me, but you want me to spit things out. Where does that leave me?” Richie had to tone his voice down in order to say the words out in a harsher way. God only knows how much he feels like shouting right now. He’s not mad with anyone, he’s just tired and disoriented and frustrated.

“I don’t know, okay?” Eddie opens his mouth three times before finding the right words. “You’re right, I don’t want to hear any of it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“About what?” God, Richie is going crazy.

“You know what. Don’t play dumb on me, Rich.” Eddie snarled.

“Okay, so. You don’t want to talk about that, what do we do, then? Keep on this stupid chicken game?” Richie took another step further before freezing in the middle of the second one. He should not have said that.

Eddie looked everywhere else but at him. “Well at least that settles it, then.”

Richie can’t quite speak, so he just stares hopelessly and dumbly while his throat squeezes out questioning whimpers. Eddie seemed to catch on.

“Just a stupid chicken game, right?” He shrugged before detaching his body from the dresser and rounding Richie’s body to go open the closet. Richie watched him, helpless, while it seemed like he was choosing out a pyjama set. Richie had a feeling he was only doing it to look busy and nonchalant, but his thoughts were pushed away when Eddie started speaking again. “How about this: you win, Rich. Now you don’t have to worry about me throwing another move at you.”

Okay, well, fuck. He was not expecting that. He’s a little lost. “Is that what you think I want, you dumbass?”

Eddie’s hands kind of stopped mid action. He turned around, taken aback. “Now you’re insulting me??”

If you had asked him, with some time in advance for prior thinking, Eddie would have told you that the moment would have been at least gentler. More conscious, because, honestly, he didn’t see it coming. Maybe less aggressive. And he would have been used to the feeling of Richie’s breathing hitting his skin. But instead, he didn’t even have time to breathe beforehand. Eddie was sure that Richie was about to knock him out with a punch or a push, and he even squared up and got ready to embrace the impact. Because what else would he think at the sight of a visibly shaking Richie, red faced, red necked, advancing at him at full speed with both hands turned into fists in front of him?

It certainly wasn’t that those fists would grasp his shoulders and pull him forward. It certainly wasn’t that Eddie would be subconsciously okay with it and allow Richie to throw himself at him with such abandon that they’d end up knocking chins and shoulders and foreheads and suddenly, lips and teeth.

It would be considered the most awful kiss for anyone else. If it even could be called a kiss. Eddie had his eyes open, as well as his mouth, that was parted from talking and harsh breathing. He had been ready to be pushed straight into the closet door, but instead he was embraced in the most agitated, needy, desperate and violent grip that was overflowing with love and affection. Eddie only grasped the loving part of it in the last second, after Richie’s lips caught his upper lip only, and after Eddie’s teeth rubbed against Richie’s closed mouth.

It did feel like love. And it looked like it. Eddie had been left cross-eyed to stare at Richie’s fluttering eyelids. He could almost taste the nerves through their barely touching mouths. It was totally off-centred, sloppy, unplanned and unexpected. It didn’t last more than two seconds. It was enough to blank Eddie’s mind.

Richie sort of pulled away and tried to get closer at the same time. He kept his eyes closed, kept gripping Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie kept studying this weird boy in front of him while finally having a taste of what it was like to have Richie’s puffs of air hitting his mouth and nose.

It was intoxicating.

And then Richie started crying, Eddie could see the beginnings of a panic attack creep up on him.

He would have, later, blame it on his empty mind, slightly dozed off from the surprise factor of this whole thing, but he did what he thought was best in that moment. Carefully, Eddie inched his right hand up. Brushed his fingers over the pale skin on Richie’s arm, over the fabric of the shirt, then the collar. Caused a goose bump to break on the surface of Richie’s neck from the way Eddie gently scrapped his nails there, which almost made him giggle. And then he settled his hand on the back of Richie’s head and pulled him forward at the same time as he tilted his own head to the right to try and do his best at this whole kissing thing that had been a mystery to him up until 10 seconds ago.

Richie must have been too surprised to keep crying, because they kissed, and kissed, and got lost in themselves for longer than Eddie should have allowed. But as the big fool he is, Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off of Richie, and Richie just kept on deepening the kiss to point Eddie never imaged he would ever get to experience in his life. It was different than what he expected it to be, kissing, that is. Lips on lips, the way that felt, how hot it is (in terms of temperature). It was very warm and wetter than what he would have liked, it was overwhelming and intrusive. His lungs felt empty, probably were, because he couldn’t breathe enough air in between the milliseconds where they’d part only to collide again in a different angle.

Richie’s hands were everywhere, kept changing from the back of Eddie’s neck to sides of his face only to travel backwards again, and lower, lower, lower. Until they settled on the small of his back, close to his hips, and Richie just kept applying pressure to somehow bring them closer, as if he could make them merge into one. Eddie wasn’t against it.

Until he was.

Until a long lost thought, old and supposedly forgotten, crept up his spine and filled his empty brain with it. After that, there was only one thing Eddie could think about.

 I’ll blow you for a quarter, Eds.

It felt like burning deep within his chest, so much that it drove him crazy enough to push Richie away. He watched for a moment as Richie stumbled backwards, confused, hurt, scared.

 I’ll do it for a dime…

I . . . I don’t have a dime. His brain shouted back.

He tried to fight back the images of rottenness and sickness while sobbing out an apology. “I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry Richie.” He hiccupped and took both hands to cover his mouth while shaking. “I’m not- I can’t. I can’t be this way.” His voice was hoarse, abused.

The words hang in the air, left them both stoned in place, just staring at each other in silence while they tried to catch their breaths. Eddie expected Richie to cry, if he was being honest, but he just stood there, out of breath and looking sort of dead.

 Come back here, kid!

Another thought of death chasing Eddie up had him squeeze his hands harder against his mouth.

Then Richie shrugged, stared at the window, and mumbled out weak words, almost as if he was regretting what he hadn’t yet said, but would anyway. “I think you need help, Eddie.”

Eddie inhaled sharply, feeling deeply ashamed.

 I’ll blow you for free…

“Not anyone else’s help…” Richie added. He sounded small, ridiculed. They locked eyes one last time. “Find yourself, alright?”  

Before Richie could move to leave, Eddie bolted out of the room. The words kept echoing in his skull for the next twelve minutes he spent forcing himself to throw up, locked away in the bathroom to put off having to leave and face the woman who was probably the main reason everything around him felt damaged.

He stared, helplessly, at his own reflection, his true self. Washed out face,

liar,

faded lips,

coward,

and purplish veins lining the thin skin of his eyelids.

 Find yourself, alright?

  He would.

rooftop taglist:   @richietoaster   @rainydayriots   @reddieloves    @thetrashmouthclub   @lemonboi03 @noodleboyshane    @pillsandglasses   @studpuffin      @dandelion-stan     @reddiesetrichie     @squishynonbinarytwink      @itschunky      @burymestanding     @duderrific    @its-rye @salty-kaspbrak  @youtubequeens   @reddieseggrolls   @addimagination   @pastelstozier @sleepysirenprincess @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth

perma taglist:  @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh  @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie

[stars-that-shine-at-night]

If the Shoe Fits Park Jimin x Reader Ballet Au!

1  2  3  4  5 

“We aren’t close at all, I only came here because Hoseok begged me. What happened today doesn’t matter. None of this means anything, it all means nothing to me.” You were gone, and Jimin couldn’t do anything. What could he possibly say. Jimin walked limply back to his dorm. Only then he realized he wasn’t wearing any shoes, the rough feeling of the concrete against the pads of his feet was the only thing he could feel. He didn’t feel like he was physically sick, but sick in another way. In his right mind he would he was not in love with you, but there was something that made him feel like you were linked to him. 

                                                        ~

Jaejung: How’s spoiled Siegfried? You looked at your phone and smiled. 

Darling: I guess you can say he’s alive. I am exhausted though. 

Jaejung: You look like you need some ice cream ;) Wanna go?

Darling: How are we going to go? You aren’t here. 

Jaejung: Look up darling. 

You looked up but no one was there, but to your right two seats down you see a familiar figure wearing a black baseball hat. You slid over and bumped your body into Jaejung’s on purpose, making his body jerk. 

“What’s up stranger?” He asked, looking at you from under his baseball cap. 

“Nothing really, you?” You returned the smile. 

“So it that a ‘yes’ on ice cream?” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You said. 

“Perfect, let’s go to my house first to get my car, so I can drive you back home afterwords.”

“Wait you have a car?”

“Yes,” you started to beat Jaejung with your fists lightly. 

“You have a car, but you never use it?! I would love to have a car and license.” 

“Ow, stop hitting me.” Jaejung said, grabbing your hands to stop your assault. “Besides why would I take my car when I can see this pretty girl everyday?” Your cheeks flushed, and you hid them in your hands. 

“God, that was horrible.”

“But you liked it.”

“If that’s what makes you happy.” 

“That makes me very happy darling.”  You rolled out your eyes, and pulled out your phone to text your brother that you were staying out for a little longer. When you got to Jaejung’s apartment you noticed that it was pretty expensive and nice from the outside. His car was a nice, sleek, and black Toyota. 

“What the fuck? Where did you get all the money for this?” You said marveling at his car. 

“Who said dancers don’t get paid much? Between getting paid for teaching, going on tour for idols, and the occasional modeling there is a pretty good amount of money being pulled in.” 

“I think all of the pointe shoes I have made in my life could probably pay off this one car, I’m pretty sure I’ve made thousands already.” You said, still in awestruck. 

“Well what are you waiting for? I still want ice cream.” Jaejung said, as he got in the driver’s side of the car. You slid right next to him in the passenger side, and you two were off. Maybe ice cream was a bad idea, because not many parlors were open at midnight, so you two just opted for convenient store ice cream. You returned to Jaejung’s car with two popsicles and handed one to him. You popped open the wrapper took a bite of the sweet treat. 

“Convenient store is the best type of ice cream.” Jaejung said as he ate his. 

“You don’t think better parlors have better tasting ice cream?” 

“I mean it is better quality but these taste better.” 

“What makes you say that?”

“Well both of my parents are successful surgeons. They had a lot of money they only really wanted the finest quality. I guess I got tired of it I guess.” Jaejung admitted. 

“Well my family wasn’t that poor, but we weren’t rich. We had six working adults in my household, but shoe making doesn’t make the big money you see. I’m kind of glad I quit dancing. If I didn’t and went to Etre, Sehwa would have never had the chance of getting lessons. I think even now most of my pay check goes to her lesson funds.” You said. 

“Wait I thought there were six working adults in your house.” 

“That’s the thing, it’s were, three of my grandparents retired, and my grandmother, well she passed away. Now there are three of us working, it’s hard trying to get two kids out of three to school, maybe that’s why I’m okay with working.” 

“Wow, isn’t that a lot to bear on your own.”

“Well when you don’t have many friends, who can you tell? Well I got you.”

“That’s right you do have me…” Jaejung grabbed your hand and gripped it tight. 

“We’ll be a team from now on.” He said smiling. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You said, holding his hand back. 

                                                           ~

Jimin woke up staring at the ceiling, it was right before six, because it was still dark outside, and his room mates were still asleep. He sat up in his bed, curling his feet closer to him, he noticed the bottoms of his feet were black. He never washed his feet after last night, he got back to his room, and flung himself on his bed. 

Jimin looked at the soles of his slippers and saw the lone dandelion seed pressed into his shoes as he got ready for warm up class. 

 "When did (y/n) leave last night?“ Hoseok asked. 

"To be honest I never checked the time when I saw her leave, I know it was after ten, because she was still asleep by then.” Jimin answered. 

"Wait you just let her leave?“ Hoseok was in shock, what if something happened to you. 

 "I tried to stop her, but her mind was made up.” Jimin said, putting on his other shoe. 

 "Did all of her remedies work?“ Yoongi asked. 

 "Well, I am here right now, so yes.” 

The warm-up class went as per usual, working on getting their blood circulated and technique perfected. Sweaty hand gripping the smooth bar, straight spines, elegant swift kicks; up and down, up and down. 

"Keep your head up.“ Madame Dasom instructed, as she went around looking at the dancers. 

"Miss Yoo straighten your leg. Don’t be lazy, what would your mother say?” Miju cringed at the mention of her mom. Memories of being locked a dance room while her mom watched her with close eyes. 

                                                            ~

"We are going to stay in here until you have strengthened your core, you are always off balance.“ Her mother said. Tears were streaming Miju’s small face as she kicked and kicked, making sure her foot came back into the right position. 

                                                            ~

"Mister Park good line, just like every other Park.” Madame Dason said, as she walked by Jimin. 

"Miss Yoo, you’re lucky you have a talented partner like Mister Park.“ Madame Dasom finally added. Sweat dripped down from Miju’s temple, and she grit her teeth, determined to be better. 

“Better Miss Yoo.” Madame Dasom said passing by once more, “you got the same line your mother had, finally.” 

After the class was over Jimin and Miju went to another class with each other. 

“Jiminiie, are you excited for the show? It’s almost November.” Miju said as they walked. 

“We still need to get that lift down, and then we’ll be ready.” Jimin replied.

“I think the scouts will love it if we nail the giselle lift, then we can get into a company together.” 

“Yeah, that would exciting getting into a company.” 

“What company would you want to get into?”

“I wouldn’t mind anything international, like New York or Royal Ballet.”

“Wait you want to go international? Didn’t you want to stay in Seoul?” Miju asked, she never heard Jimin mention any foreign companies. 

“I never said I wanted to stay local Miju, I’m open to whatever good offer comes my way.”

“You think you can go international?”

“Are you assuming my skills?!” Miju took a gulp when she heard Jimin’s last sentence.

“No, I just thought you were good enough for the national ballet.” 

“Don’t fill in whatever you don’t know with your own truth Miju. I’m going to aim for my best whether you think I can or can not.” Jimin said darkly, and started walk ahead of Miju. His mind flashed back to your face when he remembered you saying that line to him. Did she really think he wasn’t good enough on a worldly stage? Was he bound to only be the best in Korea? Wasn’t there a bigger stage out there for him? 

                                                           ~

“Let’s do it one more time.” Master Geonsik said. This class was practice for a males variation, all of the dancers were from the S ranked. Along with ‘Sleeping Beauty’ there was a competition coming up and Jimin was competing in it also. Even though it was all the S rank boys they all had to do the same variation. It was the variation you saw before, from Don Quixote. 

“Mister Park remember you must keep that smile on your face at all times.” Mister Geonsik said, “Even when you are finished you should still smile to the crowd as you bow. Your smile is a way of thanking your audience for watching you.” Jimin nodded in response. 

“Mister Jeon even when you are turning, you can not drop your smile and pick it up when you are facing the audience, just because you can not see them doesn’t mean they can not see you.” Mister Geonsik pointed out, and walked towards Jungkook who was practicing. Even though Jungkook never did anything the personally offend, Jimin couldn’t feel anything else but anger when he saw the young ballerino. Jungkook was hot on Jimin’s tail in ballet, he was young and a quick learner. When Jimin entered Etre he was younger that Junkook, but came in as a A rank dancer. When he was Jukook’s age he was promoted S rank, but Jungkook had no other Etre experience, this was his first year, and he got into Etre easily. Jimin was jealous, there was another dancer that maybe better than him, and so he was determined to do even better than he has done before. He wanted to go international in a prestigious company. 

                                                                ~

When you woke up it was really late for you, Sehwa was already gone, also Jaewook, but your parents were still at home. You quickly grabbed a piece of fruit to eat. You were now behind in orders because of yesterday and now, since you didn’t get an early start.

You rushed through the bustling city, pushing your way through the people to get to Delladova, you burst through the glass doors, and tied on your work apron as you stared at your orders. Thankfully none of your dancers were having major performances, so you didn’t need to make too many pointe shoes, but there was a large order of slippers. Slippers were easier and faster to make than pointe shoes though, but quality craftsmanship was still needed to put in. Dancers could tell if their slippers were off. You got work first by creating all of the dance slippers, they were simple to make, all you needed to do was draw out the foot pattern, and the rest was just sewing, there was no component that had to be crafted. Every part of the shoe was sewn on to the main fabric. You went down your list quickly until you noticed that Jimin placed an order. It was an order for performance slippers, but in black satin specifically. Your dad looked over your shoulder as you read the piece a paper. 

“Oh an order from a Park bellerino, come with me, I know how to help.”  Your dad said, you followed him to the grand fabric room in Delladova. In the room was rolls upon rolls of satin in multiple colors. Pink, white, and black were the most dominate colors of fabric in the room. Your father went all the way to the rolls of black satin and pulled at matte black bolt. 

“This is the most expensive black satin right now in Delladova.” He said as he carried it back out to a large work bench. He unrolled the satin out across the table, pulled out two desk lamps that were on opposite end of the table, and turned the lamps on. 

“You have to look for the smallest flaws, if you think he won’t notice the flaw, trust me he will. Make sure you don’t snag the satin either, I will help look for flaws too.” Your dad instructed, and the two of you started to inspect the dark fabric. You guys probably spent a good hour trying to find a good area until you finally found a part that will make several pairs of slippers, and were consistent. You cut off that one part of the fabric from that bolt and took it back to your our own table to trace out the patterns of Jimin’s show. With a steady hand and the sharpest pair of scissors, you cut out the patterns with sharp clean edges. You were about to walk over to the sewing machines and sew the shoes together until you dad put a roll of the black thread on your desk. 

“Use this instead of the standard thread later, Park Jimin won’t yell at you when he gets these slippers.” You nodded and took the thread with you. You noticed that the thread was thinner, but stronger than regular standard thread. It was amazing that there were so many different combinations of thread and fabric to make a different shoe to conform to a certain dancer. That’s what every day people do no see when they watch ballet, every shoe is very much different from the other. Makers work long and hard to make the shoe they are asked to made. You loaded up the spool of thread into the sewing machine and sewed the shoe together, watching it come together as you pressed more thread in. You finished the five pairs Jimin ordered and bagged them up to be taken to Etre’s shoe room.

You worked through out the whole day, and late into the night. You let out a monstrous yawn as you sat alone in the dark factory, the lamp at your work bench was the only light on. You tenaciously pounded at the toe box with your hammer to just shape it right until you were content with it. It was a thicker toe box, so you had to pound it harder, you were so focused on your work until you noticed there was red leaking onto the head of your hammer. You placed your hammer back onto your work bench and saw two giant blood blisters on your hand, they weren’t common for you, but you got them more often than older makers since their hands were already rough unlike yours.  The one on your palm already popped, and the last one thankfully was still intact. When you were just about to get the first aid kit you got a text from Chaerin. 

Riniie: All of us have dinner for you outside of Deladova, come out. 

(y/n)iie: What do you mean by ‘all of us’?

Riniie: You know, me, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, the whole ballet squad. 

You remembered that you told Chaerin that you had to work late tonight, and couldn’t hang out. You wrapped your hand in some paper, and grabbed the first aid kit. When you got outside Chaerin was right, her whole ballet squad was there. Even Sori and Miju. In all honesty you had no idea who Sori was, you just knew she was another S rank dancer and she was Taehyung’s partner. 

“(y/n).” Chaerin squealed as she ran to embrace you. 

“Chaerin!” You said as you hugged her back. Jimin was actually surprised to see you act this way and hug Chaerin, you only let your guard down when you were with Chaerin or Hoseok. Yoongi walked over to you and held out a to go box that had a few slices of pizza in it. 

“Chaerin made sure none of us ate the last four slices.” He said as he held it out to you. 

“Oh..uuuhhh….” You started as you tried to figure out how to grab it. You transferred the first aid kit your tissue wrapped hand that already looked like the flag of Japan. 

“What happened your hand?” Namjoon asked as he spotted your blood. 

“If I show you none of you guys can scream.” You said, and got ten head nods as a response. You dropped the tissue to the ground for you had no other free hand and hung the first aid kit on the pinkie finger of the hand that was holding the pizza. 

You held up your hand so they could see the bloody blister on your palm, and the dark maroon blister that was in the inside of your knuckles. They were both about as big as a nickel and really unappealing to the eye. Hoseok shrieked in terror and held on to Chaerin. 

“What the hell?!” He screamed out loud into Chaerin’s poor ear. 

“I told you not to scream you big baby!” You yelled back. 

‘Are you okay (y/n)?” Jin asked as he walked up to look at your palm, his motherly instincts kicking in. 

“I’m fine, these happen on occasion. I know how to deal with them.” You said, as Jin was about to grab your palm, but another hand stopped his. You were shocked to see Jimin’s ringed hand gripping onto the older’s wrist. Jimin actually had no idea where he was going with this, but he just felt like he had to stop Seokjin from touching you. 

“Jimin why are you holding on to him?” Jungkook asked. Jimin blinked back into reality, and let go of Jin.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you not to touch the blister because it could get infected.” He said smoothly making up an excuse.  

Jimin grabbed the first aid kit from your hands and pulled out two alcohol strips. He ripped open one the clean his hands. He offered his clean hand out to you, and placed your bloody hand in his, palm up. The pool of blood and dark maroon boil looked painful. Jimin dabbed the cloth over the bloody skin, soaking up the liquid. It really stung, but you sat there like an obedient child. Jimin noticed your teeth digging into your lips so you wouldn’t make any noises out of pain. When all of the bright blood was wiped clean, you were left with a ripped up palm with red skin. It looked like the other blister, but deflated now. Jimin grabbed out a band aid, and without touching the sterile piece he wrapped it around the open wound. When his hand left yours, you immediately closed your hand. 

“You know you shouldn’t pop blood blisters, they can get infected easily.”  He said firmly, but you took that in the wrong way, you thought his tone was condescending. 

“I didn’t mean to pop it, I told you yesterday I am not an idiot.” You snapped. No one said anything for a few short moments, that felt long to all of you. In those moments Miju was analyzing everything what just went down: ‘Jimin doesn’t do that for me when I have blisters and bruises, and I have them all of the time. Why did he wrap her wound? Is he falling for her more?’ Miju thought . Jimin never paid attention to girls at school, and all the time he was swarmed. Girls would crowd him in class, they would clamor to sit close to his table at lunch, and they would push and shove so they could watch him practice from the small door frame. Was it because you weren’t easy and he was trying to get you? But he did mention you being annoying and smart mouthed, wouldn’t those turn him away from you?

“Guys we should probably go, it’s almost curfew.” Namjoon said, as he slid he phone back into his pocket after checking the time. 

“Thanks for the food, I really appreciate.” You said, not really sure who you were directing it to, but you wanted to get your gratitude out there. You turned and walked away from Jimin without another word, back into Delladova, where you could be safe from the world around you.

You sat down at your desk and ate while you looked at your injured hand, your rotated your hand, switching between the blandness of the back of your hand, and the uneven patchiness that was your palm. The awkward off flesh color of the band aid and the swollen deep wine red blister. While you were looking at your hand you realized what you said to Jimin was stupid, he was only trying to help you, you didn’t have to be mean about it. You sighed and hung your head as you pulled your phone out. 

Spoiled Siegfried: Sorry…for how I snapped at you before. That wasn’t meant to happen….I don’t really know what happened honestly. I was cranky, hungry, and tired, which isn’t really a justifiable excuse for what I did, but I am still sorry. 

Jimin heard his text tone go off and he fished his phone out of his jeans and read your text. Without him knowing a small smile forced its way on to his face, you were always honest, and wanted to cut the cutesy crap. Your main goal wasn’t to impress Jimin with looks or how cute you were. You weren’t even trying to impress him, but you were through your acts of skill, talent, and hard work. Chaerin noticed Jimin smiling at his phone from the corner of her eye, and quickly just sent a text to you. 

Riniie: Did you just text Park Jimin something? Anything?!

(y/n)iie: Okay first, creep. Second, how did you know?

Riniie: Well, I just saw him smiling at his phone, and I know for a fact that he doesn’t smile at much 

(y/n)iie: Probably wasn’t my text than, I just sent a text apologizing for how mean I was being to him a few minutes ago.

Riniie: I heard he’s into honesty ;) 

(y/n)iie: I will not date Park Jimin, I’m just not into him. He irritates me, he always thinks I am lower than him, and he’s higher than everyone because he’s way better dancer. If he really thought of himself as on the same level as his peers he would pick a partner he could emotionally link to, and try different partners to dance with, not Yoo Miju. Just because she is the best female dancer at Etre doesn’t mean she has to be his partner. 

Riniie: You are right about many things there (y/n), but you forgot to say something else.

(y/n)iie: And what is that? 

Riniie: Jimin is a fast learner, everyday he learns just like you and I do. Just remember he is human, he did get sick and needed another person to help him. (y/n) you help him in many ways you may not even know. 

(y/n): I think I know what you are implying, and if I am right I’m going to say that here and now.

(y/n)iie: That’s bullshit. 

You rolled your eyes, and ate more of your pizza. You weren’t in the mood for more of Chaerin’s deep talks. 

                                                            ~

“(y/n) wake up.” A familiar voice brought you out of your comatose like state, and your eyes fluttered open. You looked up, as you were bathed in the golden chains that was the sun. In front of you was a face, a face you haven’t seen in five years. 

“Grandma?” You whispered out. Where were you? You looked above your head and instead of the sun it was actually night, and you were under millions of colorful paper lanterns. You were at the lotus lantern festival, it was one of your favorite events, because it was another time of the year where your grandmother would dress you up in your hanbok, and she would wear hers, so the two of you could watch all of the lights. You noticed that your blisters were gone from your hands, at your wrists was covered in the gold embroidery was stitched on to the sleeves of your childhood hanbok. If you looked down to your feet, they were hidden by the blue fabric of your bell skirt. 

“(y/n) go and play, your friend is waiting for you.” Your grandmother crouched down to your level and held you close, as she pointed in the direction of boy. He was standing in the middle of everyone he was also in festival dress. He had round cheeks that were plump, just like his lips. His eyes and nose had a familiar face, one you have seen before. Something was drawing you to him, and took one step after another in your tiny hwahyejang (shoes that go with the hanbok). You could have sworn you did not know this boy, but you did at the same time. a face you know, but could not put a name to. You tugged at his sleeve and he turned to face you, now you could see him full on, not just his side profile.

“Do you want to play with me?” 

                                                             ~

Jimin sat up in his bed in a cold sweat. It wasn’t hot in October, but he was still perspiring. The little girl’s voice was haunting his mind, she was a cute little girl bright eyes that were never one solid color. Different greens and blues would flit around quickly, she had fluffy cheeks, and medium sized lips. Most of her tiny body swallowed in blue, from the fabric of her skirt, and cute headband held her bangs back, shadows and reflections from the lanterns that hung above their heads danced across her skin, she had a bright smile, that just yelled fun. It was a face that was almost recognizable, but no name came to his mind when he saw the little girl. 

                                                            ~

You were rudely awaken when the sleep was shaken out of you. Your eyes rolled to the front of your head, and was met with the harsh factory lights of Delladova. Your eyes almost watered from the pain of lights. 

“(y/n) you fell asleep here?! No wonder you didn’t come home, you’re lucky we have that GPS in your phone, or else there would have been a massive manhunt for you.” You didn’t know what time it was, but it was already too early for your mother to be yelling at you. When you finally got your brain back in your skull you started to get back work, despite the pain in your hand. Pain, didn’t matter to you anymore, you learned how to numb it out while you worked. You were sitting at a sewing machine sewing more pointe shoes, when your mother sat next to you. 

“(y/n) can you go get Sehwa from ballet today? Most of my dancers have shows coming up and they need shoes. Your father has an appointment with ballet companies, and Jaewook will be at study hall tonight.” She said, you nodded response. It was the least you could do, you weren’t there at night to help in the house, and you weren’t there in the morning to help, you also didn’t drop Sehwa off at the bus, so someone else had to do it. You knew you had to leave an hour earlier than Sehwa’s dance practice, just to get there. So you planned to leave at seven, and just take the rest of the day off. 

You worked all day until it was ten minutes before seven. When you stood up, you got a news alert saying that a few lines in the subway were down, and could not be rode. Just by luck, the one to Sehwa’s studio was closed. You were going to have to take the bus now, and the bus was slower than the train. You mentally cringed at your horrible luck and stood up so you could walk out. You walked to the bus station that would bring you closest to Studio 8. While you were waiting for the bus, a blue sports car you were well antiquated with pulled up.  

“What are you doing here (y/n)?”

“Well doesn’t this feel all too familiar Park Jimin?”  You answered, there was no sarcasm or malice in your tone.

“I was picking up costumes. Now why are you at a bus stop?” 

“I need to pick up my little sister from ballet, and the bus is the only way I can get there right now, the trains are closed.”

“Get in,” Jimin said. 

“What?”

“I said get in, I’ll drive you.” Jimin said, enunciating every syllable in a teasing way. You pulled the car door open, sat in the passenger seat. 

“I’ll type in the address,” you said, and Jimin obliged, and handed you his unlocked phone. You typed in the address of the studio and gave it back to Jimin. You looked in the back of Jimin’s car and saw there were three costumes. A blue costume, that was plain, but the chest was decorated in many shades of blue feathers. There was a long sleeved white jacket that was embroidered in intricate patterns of gold, and white lace around the sleeves. The last one was a jacket with the vest made of a shiny matte gold fabric, and the collar was made of a blue, it was a soft blue tinted green, that gave an off blue look. It kind of reminded you of chlorine water. Each article of clothing was separated by the plastic film of dry cleaning bags. 

When you arrived at the studio, you were twenty minutes early. Since you took Jimin's car, you were able to get there faster than by bus or train. Jimin put the car in park and shut off the ignition, he was about to open the car door until you stopped him. 

"What are you doing?" You asked. 

"Getting out of the car obviously." 

"Then why? You can just leave when I'm gone." 

"And how are you going to get home?" 

"I'll find my way." You said not missing a beat. 

"What if-" 

"I don't care if you think it's unsafe for me." 

"I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about Sehwa's safety. What are you going to do?" You bit your lip as you contemplated your options. You hated to admit it, but he was right. 

"Fine, but I'm doing this for Sehwa."

"Then I guess we have mutual motives.” Jimin said as he walked with you into the building. Now that you were out of the car, you could finally see Jimin. He was wearing all black today. He had on a warm turtle neck that went up to his chin, that was under a leather jacket, with black jeans, and lastly he had on a pair of sunglasses that protected his sensitive eyes. You two sat together in the waiting room with the other moms. 

“My aren’t you two a pair of young parents.” Lady said nicely, “how old are you?” 

“We are not parents, I’m just waiting for my little sister.” You said, quickly. 

“What a nice boyfriend you have there, he went with you to see your little sister.” Another mother added. 

“I am not her boyfriend-”

“He’s an acquaintance, we’re co-workers.” You said, cutting Jimin off. “He only drove me here.”

“He drove you here?” The second mother said.

“If you ask me, he probably wants to be more than co-workers.” The first mother said, winking. 

“Never going to happen, I am fine right where I am.” 

“Aw, you might’ve just broken his heart.” The second mother said, teasingly nudging you. 

“(y/n) you have left me wounded.” Jimin said, feigning pain.

“You’ll be mortally wounded, if you don’t stop.” You hissed through your teeth. 

All the little girls started coming out from class wearing their little pink tutus that flounced as the ran out to see their guardians. There were girls from age six to twelve, they were all so so tiny and innocent you thought. Some of the older girls started to recognize Jimin. 

“Oh my god, is that Park Jimin?”

“It really is him?” 

“I love him so much, he’s such a great dancer.” 

“Why is he here?” Chatter started to erupt around him, and Jimin was flooded by little girls in pink who wanted pictures and autographs. He obliged, because he didn’t want to be rude in front of the girls’ guardians. 

“Unnie!!" Sehwa came running to you. You squatted down to her height with your arms open. Sehwa leaped into your arms and you held her close. 

“How’s my girl? I haven’t seen you since the other day.”

“Yeah, Unnie wasn’t there why?” She asked pouting, you were about to answer but, “Because of me.” You turned around to see Jimin walking towards you and Sehwa. 

“Unnie, you know Park Jimin?!” Sehwa squealed, Sehwa was also a fan of Jimin. She’s seen him dance when you took her to Chaerin’s recitals at Etre. 

“You know how Unnie makes shoes right?” Sehwa nodded her little head. 

“Well I make shoes for Jimin to dance in now. Yesterday, Unnie was with Jimin because I had to take care of him. Jimin was sick.” You explained your absence. 

“Like husband and wife?” Sehwa asked, tilting her head. Jimin almost snorted with laughter, and your cheeks burned. 

“Sehwa why would you say that?” You said.

“Because Unnie said that when you are with someone you love, you will take care of them no matter what.” Sehwa answered dutifully. Jimin was touched by her cuteness, and the more he looked at her, the more he realized she looked a like the girl from his dreams. Was that her? The little girl who asked him to play with her, she seemed outgoing enough. 

“I did say that, but Jimin and I do not love each other Sehwa.” You said.

“Unnie, you said it was bad to lie.” Sehwa said flatly. Jimin almost lost it, Sehwa definitely got her bluntness from you. 

“Sehwa I am one hundred percent telling the truth.” You said, Sehwa rolled her eyes.

“Whatever you say Unnie.” She said, and walked off to get her dance bag. When she came back with her bag she grabbed your hand and offered her hand out to Jimin. Jimin gladly took it because he thought Sehwa was super cute, and he also didn’t want to suffer the consequences from you if he didn’t. The three you walked hand in hand together to Jimin’s car, and Sehwa would swing yours and Jimin’s hands. Also she would fiddle with the rings that were on Jimin’s fingers on the hand that held hers. She’s never seen anyone wear as many rings as he does, and you barely wore rings because of work. You and Jimin were going to put Sehwa in the back seat, but all of his costumes took up the seats, and she didn’t have a car seat. So she was going have to sit in your lap, yeah, it was illegal, but maybe it was the safer option? You didn’t know. 

“Isn’t this car cool like Jimin oppa, Unnie?” Sehwa asked as she sat in her lap. 

“Yes, Jimin oppa is really cool.” Jimin said quickly. 

“The car is cool, but I’m not too sure if the driver is cool too.” You answered. 

“Sehwa, you also shouldn’t call Jimin oppa, you only met him today.” You scolded. Sehwa pouted and nodded her head up and down. 

“it’s okay Sehwa, you can call me ‘Jimin oppa’ if you want. I’ll be your older brother.” Jimin said, as he took one hand off of the steering wheel and pat Sehwa’s head. 

“See Jimin oppa will be my other oppa next to Jaewook oppa. Is that okay Unnie?” Sehwa asked turning to face you. You couldn’t say no, you nodded your head yes. Jimin remembered your house address, so he knew where to go. 

“So Sehwa are you going to Etre when you grow up?” Jimin asked. 

“Yes, I want to be just like Chaerin unnie, and be able to have a partner like her. I want to try to dance with another person.” Sehwa said excitedly. Ballet was Sehwa’s passion that she carried from you and Jaewook. Sehwa turned her head to see the glittering costumes in Jimin’s back seat. 

“Jimin oppa,” Jimin hummed in response. “are those your costumes? are you going to be a prince?”

“Well aren’t you smart Sehwa? Those are my costumes for Prince Florimund  in ‘Sleeping Beauty’.” Jimin answered. 

“I love ‘Sleeping Beauty’, Unnie took me to watch ‘Sleeping Beauty’ at the national ballet. She had to work very hard for those tickets, she told me she had to make many pointe shoes to get those tickets.” Your cheeks flushed from embarrassment. It was good Sehwa was friendly and could talk to people, but sometimes she would let too much slip out. Jimin and Sehwa talked all the way to your house, you didn’t think Jimin could be this talkative, because Chaerin would say that he didn’t talk much in school, especially to other girls.  When you got back to your house you stepped out of Jimin’s car carrying Sehwa and her bag. 

“Did you want to come in? For tea or coffee?” You offered, as you adjusted Sehwa in your arms. Jimin pursed his lips out and thought about your offer. He was in a mental battle with himself, would his heart falter more, would he get hurt like last night. 

“Uh, sure. Coffee would be nice.” He said smiling. 

“Follow me.” You said as you opened the gate your house. Expertly you held Sehwa in one arm as you unlocked the door. When the door opened you were greeted with a dark house, no one was home yet. You stepped in your house and took off yours and Sehwa’s shoes, with Jimin following en suite. You set Sehwa down so she could go change into cleaner clothes, she sprinted into your room to change quickly. Jimin followed you through your house and he noticed a picture on the wall. He saw a framed picture of Sehwa in her hanbok. Now he knew that little girl wasn’t Sehwa, Sehwa had different hanbok from the other girl in his dream. Next t Sehwa’s picture was another little girl, that looked similar to her, but she was different in facial features. She was sitting in a swing with an elderly lady behind pushing the swing. The girl had a mega watt smile, and the sky blue skirt caught his eye. It was all coming together, from the hair, to the hanbok, and the smile, the girl in the dream was you as a girl. 

“Jimin are you coming?” You called out from the kitchen, Jimin pulled himself out from his day dream and walked into the kitchen. 

“You and Sehwa really looked alike when you were her age.” Jimin said, as you set down a mug of coffee in front of him. 

“Oh yeah? Well, I say she is the prettier one though.” You said, joking. 

“You are right, Sehwa is super adorable.” Jimin said, and took a sip of his coffee. 

“Unnie, I am hungry what is for dinner?” Sehwa asked as she came out from your room. Jimin noticed that he was intruding in your house and got up. 

“I should probably go, you know I have curfew.’ You understood and walked him out to the door. Sehwa ran and wrapped her arms around Jimin’s black jean clad legs.

“Good bye Jimin oppa, I’ll see you later okay?” She said looking up, Jimin smiled and mused her hair once more

“Good bye Jimin.” You said as you waved. 

“I’ll see you around (y/), Sehwa.” Jimin said, he wasn’t sure if he should hug you or walk away. He’s never hug any other girl his age, so it was safe not to hug you. He turned and walked to his car. You watched him get in his car and speed away. You walked back into your house and cooked dinner for Sehwa. 

“Unnie, I think Jimin oppa really likes you.” Sehwa as said as you two ate. 

“What makes you say that?”

“He is the only boy who’s ever agreed to come to our house.” You brought your hand to your face, because your seven year old little sister just dried roasted you. 

                                                               ~

+8 82- ***-****: Yoo Miju I want to met with you at the cafe near Etre, just you. Yourself.

Yoo Miju: Who is this? And how did you get my number? 

+8 82-***-****: This is Kang Duhi, the second year B rank student

Yoo Miju: Well lose my number Kang Dahui, I have no business in talking to you. 

+8 82-***-****: Are you sure about that?

+8 82-***-**** It’s about your partner Jimin and his maker, dandelion. Let me know if you interested. 

Yoo Miju:.....what day and what time do you want to meet? 

[thelookingglassalice]

When It Began Chapter 2

Chris Evans x OC Ivey (Masterlist)

Warnings: Oral(male), protected sex

Chris meets an intern on set of his movie ‘Street Kings’. Ivey is ruled by impulses, enjoying everything she can. But over the course of their relationship, as Chris’ fame grows, the problems do too. (Begins in 2007) 

@emilyevanston @mewsiex @chrisevans-imagines @mumbles411 @jennymagicalheart @alievans007 @mizzzpink @ariallane

(If you’d like to be on the tag list let me know ♥)

I turned on the lights in my apartment and put my stuff down. Chris trailed behind me. I loved my place. It had the feel of a dorm still, but it was older with vaulted ceilings.

“Hi Baggy.” A black cat stalked out of the kitchen area. He stretched and regarded Chris.

“Isn’t that unlucky?”

“No that’s Bagheera. Be nice to him.” I loved that cat. He had one eye that was lazy, so it looked in a separate direction than the other. It creeped most people out but he needed someone and I had to have him.

“Disney reference.” Chris smirked.

“Yeah, I’m full of Hidden Mickeys FYI. He won’t bother you. If you’re allergic or something. He wants fed and then he will retire to his chair over there.”

“I’m not allergic...not a cat person.” Chris followed me to the kitchen as I got the cat’s stuff.

“I’m not either, to be honest. But he was ignored because of his color and his eye, plus he wasn’t  a kitten. He didn’t stand a chance. His cage at the shelter was even to my face and we locked eyes. They opened the cage door and he stepped out onto my shoulder and draped himself around my neck.” Baggy came in and started to eat, still eyeing Chris.

“You sorta had to take him after that.”

I shrugged and smiled a little and then walked back out to the living room and down the hall to my room. I pulled my t-shirt off and tossed it into a chair. I sat on the bed and went about removing my shoes. Chris stood in the doorway and watched me.

“You can come in. In fact will you get this? My arms are killing me. Did you see the stack of copies I hauled around set today?” I stood up and turned, gesturing to the clasp on my bra.

“I’m not so good at those.” He came up behind me and examined the clasp.

“It’s not a Rubix cube. We have to do it blind most of the time. “ I faced him, hands on my hips and head tilted. His eyes landed on my chest. “

“You’ve had more practice.” He was being cocky now.

“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice. Stop staring unless you’re going to show me yours.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stuck my tongue out.

“Okay.” He pulled off his shirt and I let my arms drop.

“Do you live at the gym? Jesus!” I walked in a circle around him, running my finger over the tattoos on his arms. “These are pretty.”

“I feel objectified.” He laughed when I touched the tattoo on his ribs and hit a ticklish spot.

“You can do that to me.” I unclasped my bra and tossed it to the floor. “But if you tickle me, I will have to hurt you a little. And my tattoo is lower.”

“Really?” His eyebrow raised.

“Higher than that.” I rolled my eyes and unbuttoned my jeans and kicked them off. I moved the band of my boyshorts a little. The tattoo was just by my hip bone. It was fairly easy to hide when needed.

“A book and a-” He traced it with one finger before grabbing my hips and pushing me flat on the bed. “I need a closer look.”

“Sure you do.” I laughed. I wiggled my legs and hummed a song as he examined the tattoo. One of my hands went behind my head, the other I placed on his head. I liked the bristles, they tickled.

“A book with a lock on it and a key. The detail on it is crazy.” I felt his breath on my thigh.

“It would take hours to see all the detail, trust me. I was in the chair forever. My mom drew it.” He moved so he was laying on his stomach beside me.

“She’s good.” Chris turned so we were face to face.

“It was on my bedroom wall when I was a kid. The artist copied it from a picture.” One of Chris’ hands was still tracing the ink. But it was moving under the waistband and over my stomach too. He was gradually working a track to my chest.

“Mine are like that. They mean something, ya know?”

“Are those your only ones?” I kissed him before he could answer. My mouth moved over his lips and cheeks.

“My ankle.” His voice was muffled from the hollow of my neck. His breath was hot and I sighed as he moved over my collarbone.

“My foot.”

“Huh?” He pulled his head away from my collarbone.

“I have one on my foot.” I laughed. I pushed him onto his back and unbuttoned his jeans. I worked them down his legs and grabbed his ankle. There were letters. I crawled back up sitting on his lap with my knees bent. I stuck my left leg out and he grabbed it.

“It’s a cat.” He smirked, rubbing his thumb over it.

“A cheshire cat to be exact.” I went to pull my foot away and he pulled it back with a grin. I slapped his face with my foot and he let go. He rolled, pulling me under him and looked down at me. I could feel his dick starting to harden against me. I linked my ankles behind his back.

“This is probably the most talkative foreplay I’ve ever had. And you just bitchslapped me with your foot.” He smiled that carefree smile again.

“I like when you smile. Or laugh.” I played with the chain of his necklace. “I like you Chris.”

“You do really have no impulse control, huh?”

“If I’m feeling something good, I like to share it.” I pulled his lips to mine, tilting my head and licking into his mouth.

One of his hands found my breast and he kneaded it, rolling the nipple under his thumb. I arched my back to press into his growing erection. I could feel how wet I was getting as I moved against him. I took his hand and pulled it between us. His fingers slipped through my folds and he ran the pad of his thumb over my clit. My body jumped like I’d been shocked, breaking our kiss.

“What was that?” He panted.

“Remember when I said I was easily stimulated? Less rubbing and more pressure.” I nipped his ear with my teeth.

“Like this?” He tried what I suggested, not moving his thumb fast but sort of slow with alternating pressure.

“Mmmhmm.” I sighed, licking the shell of his ear. “More kisses.”

I felt him chuckle as he went back to kissing me, our lips were getting swollen but I loved the feeling. He was good at it. I felt a climax starting to radiate from my core. I unhooked my ankles and straightened one leg, whimpering into his mouth. My muscles tightened and released with my orgasm rolling over me. I shoved his hand from my cunt, panting, small moans escaping me. I moved out from under him and he rolled to his back.

“That was fast.”

“Shut up.” I sat up and grabbed the waistband of his boxer briefs. I pulled them down, his cock coming free. I slid to the floor and removed them the rest of the way. I pushed his legs apart and climbed between them as I pulled my hair behind my head. I licked along his shaft. Swirling my tongue over the veins and ridges. My mouth moved over him, in one fluid movement I took him to the back of my throat.

“Whoa!” Chris hissed and gripped the bedspread. I sucked as I pulled my head back and he fell from my mouth.

“Do me a favor.” He tilted his head down to see me. “Hold my hair. You can still grip the sheets but I lost my hair tie.” I swirled my tongue over the head of his dick. “Unless you want me to stop and look for it.”

“No, I got it.” He stammered and gathered my hair in one of his large hands. He pulled it towards his stomach as I took him back into my mouth. I sucked and licked at him. One of my hands on his hip the other gripping his ass. I felt the muscles contract and tasted some pre-cum.

“I think you’re there.” I moved away, lost my panties, and grabbed a condom from the table. I kissed him and gave him a second to settle so he didn’t come while I was fucking with the condom. Once he was covered I dragged him over me.

“You good?” He asked, positioning himself to enter me.

“All clear.” I nodded. He went slow, once he was in he paused and I clenched around him. Then he moved. He didn’t just go at it like a mission. He moved his body, watching my reactions, seeing what had effect. I was still stimulated from the first orgasm, so it didn’t take long for another to build. Chris’ forehead was on mine, my hair was damp with sweat. My hands slid over his slick back and ass. His mouth was open, ragged breaths blowing over my face. He tensed and came with a moan, grabbing my hip and scratching me by accident. The bite of pain sent me over and I came too. I kissed Chris’ forehead and he got up to dispose of the condom.

I burrowed under the blanket, coming down off my climax high. I was tired. After tomorrow’s shoot I had to work. I sat up when Chris came back in the room and pulled his shorts on.

“Hey, are you on set tomorrow?”

“Yeah, they’re killing me.” He sat on the bed. “I’ll have about three weeks off after that.” He leaned back and I toyed with his hair.

“Do you want to go somewhere with me? I’ll sort of be off the radar this weekend and I want to show you why. I don’t know if you plan on this becoming a thing, but I want to lay everything out.” I got up and pulled on a long t-shirt. I heard scratching at the door. I opened it and Baggy narrowed his eyes at me. How dare I shut him out.

“That doesn’t sound ominous. Are you a secret agent or superhero?” I bounced back into the bed and Chris caught me around the waist. “I’m tired. If you wanna sleep over don’t smush Bagheera. If you want to go home, get your pants on.”

“Scott’s at my place so he’s taking care of East. Where does Baggy sleep?” Chris watched Baggy jump up on the bed and lay on my pillow. “Oh.”