#correction: what will Dust do if another fairy made Horror cry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-everlasting-dream · 5 years

Text

Good Fences - The Perfect Cliche Part 2

A/N: I don’t know why I wrote this... I wasn’t planning to continue this au/series/thing but my brother gave me the hilarious idea for the unfortunate incident later on so *shrugs*

PART 1

Trudging up the stairs because the elevator was broken yet again, Elizabeth fished for her keys in her bag to unlock the door to her new apartment. Could you still call it new when you’d already lived there for a month? She shrugged, pulling her hair out of its ponytail while jiggling the key in the door. She cast a cursory glance to the door labelled 144 which housed the subject of her sustained interest.

Other than that first interaction with Drake in the elevator, she’d failed to have any interaction with her neighbour who was equal parts attractive and grumpy which only intrigued her more. While she was still job hunting, he already had an established full time job and their schedules seemed like polar opposites. Throwing her keys into the bowl near the door, she set her bags down and headed to her bedroom. Actually she corrected herself, there was that time last week..

Elizabeth had almost made it home when New York decided to unleash her unforgiving downpour of rain after a long day. Ducking into the concierge, she swiped her damp hair off her face before checking under her coat for the big textbooks she’d borrowed from the library. Hurrying towards the elevator past the row of mailboxes and highly aware of the judgemental stare of the building’s burly female superintendent, she was painfully aware of the wet footprints she was tracking in. Between balancing the textbooks and struggling to get her keys out of her pocket, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. The wet soles of her ballet flats failed to find purchase on the tiled floor and before Elizabeth realised it she was pitching towards the floor.

Dropping the textbooks, she let out a yelp of surprise expecting to meet the hard cold surface with her face when something gripped her arm, halting her descent. Inching her eyes open she looked up to see Drake towering above her, his left hand gripping her bicep. Dressed in a white t-shirt with a denim button down spanning across his broad shoulders, Elizabeth gulped at the sight of her handsome neighbour.

Helping her to her feet, he gave her a precautionary once over. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, thanks for the save,’ she replied, straightening her clothes and crouched down to retrieve the books she’d dropped, keeping her head down to hide her embarrassment.

‘Next you decide to take a dive, tell someone first. I won’t always be there to catch you.’

Drake dipped down beside her to help her retrieve her books, handing her one before squinting at the cover. ‘Diagnostic Principles by Dr. Ethan Ramsey.’

Elizabeth tucked her hair out of her face nervously. ‘Yeah just a bit of light reading you know.'

Drake looked like he was going to ask more but seemed to think better of it as they stood up.

''m guessing your last name is Richmond.' Distracted with her coat, she glanced up at him quizzically.

'Yeah why?’

He handed her a letter out of his stack of mail. ‘Must have gotten mixed up with mine.’

Seeing the crest on the top left corner, Elizabeth hastily set her bags down and grabbed the envelope, tearing it open immediately to the amusement of her neighbour.

Dear Miss Richmond, Thank you for your application however we regret to inform you that…

She sighed in defeat, body sagging a little as she vacantly scanned the rest of the letter. Despair welled up in her as she fought to keep the tears from falling, not wanting to cry and definitely not in front of her hot neighbour and the superintendent lady who was clearly still judging her.

‘Everything okay?’

If she had looked up, Elizabeth would have seen the small crease of concern between Drake’s eyebrows as he looked at her with mild concern.

‘Yes. No. I don’t know. No. I should go,’ she muttered, barely able to keep it together. Hoisting the books in her arms, she gave him a tight lipped, watery smile. ‘Thanks for the save.'

She didn’t wait to see him shrug or catch the lingering look he gave her as she walked away.

The letter was still sitting on her kitchen counter, squashed towards the side where she’d left it in her distaste. What had she been thinking? No self respecting work place would want a med school drop out period. Sure she could have used her father's connections to find something but she’d walked out of his out having sworn to make it on her own. And that is that she was going to do.

Right what she was going to do was engage in the longest self pamperation session possible. The last interview was rigorous and from the looks on the interviewers’ faces they’d been less than impressed.

Shedding her clothes as she walked through her bedroom, she donned her purple silk dressing gown and scrubbed off her makeup in the sink before lighting a few candles all whilst humming to herself. As she reached down to fill up the bathtub, a movement caught her eye. Glancing up, Elizabeth was horrified to find the biggest blackest spider on the wall staring back her barely six inches from her face.

‘Ahhh!’

Drake eased into his comfy armchair, equipped with pizza and a beer, eager after a gripping workout to turn on that night’s game and just relax. Things at work were tense and things with Kiara? Even more so. After their last hook up, he’d thought things would ease up a little. Boy was he wrong about that too.. Before he could descend any further into the pit of self pity, his phone vibrated from where he’d left it on the coffee table.

‘Liam?’

‘Hey Drake. Don’t sound so surprised to hear me calling or anything.’

He shook his head recovering. ‘Nah nah man. Its just… It must be early for you over there. Or late..’

There was a quiet chuckle on the line. ‘Yeah can’t sleep.’

Drake felt his brows knit together in concern. ‘What’s up? King stuff..?’ Liam grunted a negatory response.

Liam hesitated. He never hesitated.

‘Its... its.. Liv.’

‘L-Olivia? What did Red do now?’ he scoffed, his least favourite person in the world springing to mind. 'I knew she was bad news. What she do huh? String another footman from his toes?’

‘Drake no. Its not like that.’

‘Dude if you need a-‘

‘I’m thinking of asking her to marry me.’ His best friend’s voice brought him screeching to a halt.

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah..’ Taking a moment, Drake gathered himself. ‘Thats.. wow. Thats awesome man. Really.’

‘You think so?’

‘I do. I’m happy for you man. I really am.’

‘She’ gonna make a hell of a queen.'

‘That she is.’ Liam laughed, obviously relieved that he thought so. ‘How’s Kiara?’

‘Mm fine.’ Drake grunted.

‘That bad huh?’ He ran a hand over his face, staring up at the ceiling. ‘I dunno man. She’s just so… complicated.’

‘I have no idea why you’re still with her. The Drake Walker I knew was a simple man. Who are you and what have you done with him?’

‘Shut up. You don’t get it. Its.. its…'

‘Complicated?’

Drake was just about to reply with a snappy response when an unearthly screech ripped through the air. ‘I’ll call you back.'

Frowning, he made towards the door of his apartment before something very purple barrelled through it, dazing him for a moment before he recognised it to be the source of the screeching.

‘Spider… spider… in the bathtub.’ His new very attractive neighbour — Elizabeth if he remembered correctly — gasped out, her towel balanced very precariously on her head as she visibly shook with fear, clutching his arm. ‘I… spider… this close to my face.’ She illustrated her words with a thumb and index finger bent together with barely any space in between.

‘Just catch it.’ Drake replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘What?’ She gaped at him. ‘I can’t… I can’t just…’ She shuddered vigorously. ‘I.. I have a fear.’

‘You’re a thousand times bigger than it. I promise you its more afraid of you.’

‘You want me to catch it?’ Elizabeth stared at him. ‘With my hands? My bare hands?’

Regarding her for one long moment, Drake muttered something under his breath about good fences making good neighbours before he gave in. ’Show me where it is.’

Elizabeth's apartment was an exact mirror of his and while he had opted for the minimalist decoration style, her take was much more.. boho. He eyed the colourful tapestries and fairy lights she’d hung up on the walls and colourful throw pillows that he would die before seeing on his own couch. And for the finishing touch, the scent of lavender hung in the room, thanks to a small diffuser in the corner.

‘In there. In the bathtub.’ Elizabeth’s voice echoed out from behind the wall she was hiding behind.

Drake shook his head again before entering the small bathroom. Here, candles had cast a warm glow on the tiles, their light scent tickling his nose. It was nice but it was also making it harder for him to see.

‘Alright spider where are ya?’ When he had located and squashed the offending arachnid, he called over his shoulder. ‘Okay, its dead.’

Elizabeth shuffled into the bathroom, her eyes squeezed shut, brandishing a wooden spoon.

‘You can open your eyes now,’ he informed her, his voice giving way to a chuckle at the sight of her covering behind him.

‘Where is it?’

‘I squashed it.’

‘You squashed it?’ Her eyes flew open. ‘In the tub.’

'Yep. You’re welcome.’ He dusted off his hands on his pants, turning to leave.

‘You squashed it in the tub?’

‘Yeah... Are you going to repeat everything I’m saying?’

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in horror as she clutched the wooden spoon harder. ‘The tub that I was going to have a bath in.’

Drake shrugged. ‘Yeah.. So?’

‘Can you get it out?’ He forced himself not to roll his eyes, muttering under his breath about how good fences made good neighbours, no matter how pretty your neighbour was. Grabbing a piece of toilet paper, he bent over to pick up the carcass.

‘See Richmond,’ he started to say, 'there’s nothing to be afraid o-ARGHH!’

It was at that moment that the spider who was decidedly not dead decided to exact its revenge, somehow leaping out of the tub and landing on his face. Drake's yell was soon joined by Elizabeth’s high pitched scream and out of instinct she swung the wooden spoon she was holding and

CRACK!

The TV blared with the highlights of the game that had just played but Drake couldn’t concentrate on anything at that point in time, not even the impressive shiner that was blooming on his left cheekbone. Nope not even the biggest bruise known to mankind could distract him from the faint sound of someone singing. He shook his head to clear his mind and winced immediately, clutching the frozen packet of peas to his face.

Phonebooks, Wall Street, tax fraud.

Think of anything else. Anything except the fact that the only thing separating him from his very attractive, very naked new neighbour was a ten inch thick wall.

He tried not to think of how he’d already seen her almost naked twice. Once just then and another time in the laundry room when he’d walked in on her dancing. The moves she’d been making, the way her hips shook stayed with him for a long time after that. If he was honest with himself, if Kiara wasn’t in the picture, he’d totally be down to hit that.

Stop. Stop it. He grabbed a pillow and shoved it between his legs, willing his dick to stay down. Elizabeth would inevitably have to come out of that bathroom and he did not want to be sporting an erection when she did.

’S what I get for being nice,’ he muttered to himself moodily. ‘A bruise the size of Texas and a goddamn boner to match.’

After they had both recovered from the initial shock, Elizabeth had been extremely apologetic after she realised what she’d done, launching into a flurry of sorry’s.

Drake had groaned in pain, clutching his face as she sidestepped the now dead-for-sure spider to rush over to him as he stalked out into the living room..

‘Ohmygod I’m so sorry!’

‘Its fine. I’m fine. Just.. don’t bring that thing anywhere near me.’

Elizabeth had sheepishly lowered her wooden weapon. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I will be. I think I’ve got something in the freezer back at my place for this.’

‘At least let me walk you back. Its the least I can do.’ She was so insistent, Drake could barely refuse and had found himself seated on the couch with a bag of peas to his face and a very worried Elizabeth.

‘You sure you’re gonna be okay?’

‘Mmhm.’

She'd seemed to collect herself, remembering that she was still scantily clad in little more than her dressing gown and stood to leave.

‘Well thank you again for killing the.. yeah. And I am so sorry.’

Drake had waved her off, shutting the door, hoping finally to get some peace and quiet. Through the wood of the door, he could still hear her voice however.

‘He squashed. Its gone Elizabeth. That slimy little bug. Its dead. Squashed. Probably left its disgusting little bug juice all over my tub now. And I was going to have a bath. In bug juice. He’ll be looking at me from bug heaven knowing I’m sitting in his bug juice.’

Drake'd sighed for a moment, taking a second to make up his mind before opening the door. ‘Would you like to use my shower?'

By that time the shower had stopped, which meant Elizabeth was done and he shoved the pillow down harder, hoping it would look suspicious. A cloud of peach scented soap filled his nostrils as he heard the door unlock and Elizabeth step out, dressed again in that purple dressing gown, her hair wrapped in a towel.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It was an accident,’ he waved her off.

‘Let me see.’ Before he could protest, she dropped herself onto the couch next to him and was gently lowering the bag of peas, her hand warm on his cold one.

From this angle, Drake had a fine view of the way her brows drew together in concentration and the tiny crease that appeared between them as she did. He hissed when her fingers touched the sensitive red skin and she mumbled an apology, studying the area with a focus that both unnerved and thrilled him. The fruity aroma of her shampoo filled his nostrils and he felt the tip of his ears burning when he realised how close she was, looking carefully over him with a concerned eye. His eyes flitted to her full lips that had the slightest bit of water still clinging to them, wondering what she’d do if he reached over to wipe it off.

Elizabeth must have noticed their proximity as she dropped her hand from his face, eyes sliding down to his lips and back up. Her breathing had picked up a little as they drew closer and closer, until their lips were centimetres away and- The sound of the frozen peas falling out of his hand to the ground was enough to make them both spring apart. Drake cleared his throat awkwardly.

‘So umm…’ She looked just as uncomfortable, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear only belated realising that she’d twisted it all up into her towel.

‘I should go. I need to go. Put on some clothes and all,’ she rambled, clearly still reeling from what had almost taken place. ‘I… uh..Sorry. Again.’

She made her way towards the door and he followed vacantly. ‘Its fine.’

Elizabeth nodded giving him a timid smile. ‘Goodnight Drake.’

‘Goodnight.’

She gave him a last look before closing the door to his apartment behind her and Drake sagged against it, unable to process the last few minutes.

What the hell just happened?

#drake walker #drake x mc #the royal romance #playchoices #trr #trr au #drak x elizabeth #elizabeth richmond #choices fandom #choices fanfiction

36 notes · View notes

secretly-a-plant · 5 years

Text

Head Underwater (PRB 2019)

Here is the fic I wrote for the @phandomreversebang 2019! Thank you so so so much to @lovelydeps and @phanandpenguins for being an amazing artist and an amazing beta! I couldn’t have done this without them. (Reblogs, likes, and comments appreciated!)

Ao3 Link

-Dan’s POV-

The ocean is a beautiful and serene place. Dangerous yet peaceful, mysterious yet full of joy. And forbidden. Completely and utterly forbidden. Ever since I was born I've been told horrific stories of winged creatures flying too close to the waves and getting lost in the blue depths. Unable to escape because their wings are sodden with saltwater and the tears of drowned sailors. I’ve been told that every creature that lies below the surface is my mortal enemy, destined to destroy me. That I should never venture to the sea for as long as I live. And yet, I seem to have an unhealthy fascination with the sea. Specifically with a dark-haired merman whose eyes shine brighter than every star in the sky.

I first saw him years ago. I had just gotten into a fight with my parents. This wasn’t a rare occurrence, it seemed that my father and I were always at each other’s throats, and my passive mother almost never took my side. I had stormed off in my usual manner, but instead of retreating to my room, I found myself walking the seldom tread path to the coast. I sat on a rock, closer to the sea then I had ever been before. I was gazing off at the skyline when my eyes caught a shimmer of light in the shallows. Curious and feeling rebellious, I moved closer. It was then that I locked eyes with the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Full of terror and amazement I quickly turned away and ran back up to the sanctuary of the forest.

And here we are. I’ve been coming back every day since to try and catch a glimpse of the mysterious sea dweller. Pathetic, I know, but I can’t bring myself to stop. One more look I tell myself, just one more complete look and then I’ll be satisfied. Today is a gloomy sort of day. Dreary and cold. The type of day that sinks through your skin, chilling you from the inside out. I don’t expect to see him today, but my subconscious seems to be driving me towards the water anyway. I walk past the cliffs that surround the cove. Craggy and leering, like giants sent to protect the land. I feel my feet sink into the sand as I close my eyes and breath in the ocean air. I feel the mist settle on my skin and the wind whip through my hair. The serene moment is interrupted by a loud splash. I jump at the sound and dive behind a rock. I cautiously peek out from behind my hiding place to be met with the exact thing I had been searching for. I tell myself that I have to go. I’ve gotten what I wanted and now I must return back to safety. But I can’t tear my eyes away. He turns, and quickly I duck down, but I know he’s seen me. I hear the gentle sound of water lapping against the coastline and tentatively emerge from behind the boulder. In front of me is a merman. Dark hair, pale skin, shining blue eyes, and a long scaly tail. He looks nothing like the drawings of mermaids that are in history books. Those mermaids are fearsome and ugly. Eyes full of rage and mouths full of fangs. The creature standing before me looks like he was crafted from sunbeams, and wrapped in layers of serene waves. Once my mind has started working again I realize that he’s looking at me with as much unfiltered awe as I am with him. Has he never seen a human before? But surely he must have if the tales of these creatures are correct. I come to my senses and abruptly turn around. I can’t just stand there and let myself be distracted by how he looks. Looks can be deceiving and while his skin may be devoid of imperfection, there are horrors in his mind. I get no more than two steps when I hear a gentle timid voice.

“Wait!” He says, his voice apprehensive as if testing it out. “Please stay.”

I turn around and see the look in his eyes, curious and pleading. I take a few steps back and sit down on the sand a few paces away.

“Hello,” I say, with a surprisingly steady voice. I know I should be scared, terrified even, but I can't bring myself to feel anything but wonder.

“Greetings, I am Phil”

I feel a small smile start to spread across my face, matching the one that Phil has adopted.

“I’m Dan.”

-Phil’s POV-

I’d never seen a fairy before. I’d heard about them, horrible winged creatures sent down from the sky on thunderbolts, with a personal vendetta against the ocean. But looking at the being standing before me, I don’t know how he could be dangerous. His eyes were ringed with red as if he’d been crying, and every part of him from his curly hair to his oversized jumper to his soft gray wings looked safe and warm. Such a contrast from the harsh blues and steely grays of the coastline. Suddenly he turns around and starts to run. I think “No, wait!” but the words are stuck in my throat and I watch as he disappears among the cliffs. And then he’s gone, so quickly that I was certain I imagined him. I sat there for a moment before slipping back below the waves.

That was years ago. I thought I’d never see him again and that it was probably for the better. When I had gone back to the ocean teeming with excitement at my discovery, no one believed me. They couldn’t fathom that a fairy would come anywhere near the water. And so I waited. I resisted the urge to go back up to the surface to try and catch another glimpse of the boy I had seen so long ago. Today was different. It was a dreary mid-October day. The ocean floor was empty, my parents always went away once the leaves changed to seek warmer waters, and most of the marine life went with them. However, I seemed to be the exception. The brisk weather had given the ocean a dreadful chill. The sun was not strong enough to pierce the layer of waves and seafoam and warm the sand underneath. I made the decision to go on the shore. Maybe I could find a nice rock to lay on, and the sun could chase the chill from my bones. As my head breaks the surface, I see a creature standing on the shore. A creature with curly hair and soft gray wings. My eyes widen in surprise. It couldn’t possibly be the same fairy, could it? But it must be. His wings displayed the same patterns that had lived in my dreams for years. Slowly he turns around, and stands motionless, looking me directly in the eye. Then he jolts, as if startled, and turns and starts to run. This time I manage to voice the words that I hadn’t been able to say last time.

“Wait! Please stay.” I say, immediately self-conscious of the tremor in my voice.

He hesitantly turns around. Finally facing me, he takes a few small steps in my direction and sits on the sand.

“Hello,” he says, his voice calm and smooth.

“Greetings, I am Phil.” I wince at the overly formal greeting, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I begin to smile. He does too, a shy grin growing on his face.

“I’m Dan.” He says, then hesitates and blurts out a sentence so fast I can’t understand what he’s saying.

“What was that?” I ask, with a slight chuckle in my voice. He is clearly embarrassed, his cheeks flaring red as he stumbles over his words.

“I’ve been, um, waiting for you. For a while. Since I was young. I’ve been coming here every day hoping to see you again.”

“So you are the same fairy! I’d hoped I wasn’t making a mistake.”

“Um, yes. That would be me, I think.”

“So. Dan. You’re a fairy. Aren’t you supposed to hate me?”

“Oh, uh, well not exactly hate you. Resent and fear you more than anything else. And frankly, shouldn’t I be asking you the same question? Isn’t your species hell-bent on killing off every single fairy?”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve never hurt a fairy in my life. Neither has any other merfolk that I know. I’ve always been told that it was fairies that were set on destroying my species.”

“The only reason we ever wanted to hurt you was because of the pain and suffering you’ve caused us. Do you have any idea how many faires your relatives have drowned?”

I start to feel anger replace the curiosity that had bloomed inside me. What right does that boy have to come down to our ocean and start accusing my ancestors of murder?

“Maybe you should go. Who knows, if you stick around maybe my murderous grandma will emerge from her home and eat you.” And with that, admittedly petty, comment I sink below the waves, making sure to splash some of the icy water back up on the shore.

-Dan’s POV-

At first, all I'm feeling is rage. But slowly it starts to turn into guilt. He was just defensive of his family, if I had been in his position I would have done the same. Besides, he clearly had very little knowledge of the bloody rivalry between the two species. Maybe if I go back and apologize we can come to an understanding. But not yet. He probably won't be back today, if the way he stormed off was anything to go by. My shoes were now soaking, which definitely made me a little less apologetic. If I give a little time for the dust to settle hopefully we can ease the tension a little bit. For now, I should probably just go home and try not to catch a cold.

When I first wake up I have no memory of yesterday's events. As I drag myself out of bed my conversation with Phil comes back to me. I stand still for a minute, trying to process what had happened and where to go from here. I eat a quick breakfast and gather a small collection of things to bring to Phil.

When I return to the small cove, I see no sign of Phil. I move closer to the water, probably closer than I’ve ever been, and hesitantly call his name. I wait a few minutes, then come to the realization that he’s not going to show up. Maybe he’s still mad about yesterday, or maybe he just didn’t feel like indulging a stranger who accused his family of murder. As I’m about to turn away, I instead decide to sit down on a warm rock dangerously close to the coastline. I never realized how peaceful the ocean was until now. I start to zone out until I hear the sound of something moving in the water and I quickly snap back to attention. It’s Phil. He looked like he was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

“You came back.” He says, sounding confused, and then his expression shits to annoyance. “You’re not here to slander my species’ reputation are you?”

“No,” I said indignantly. “I actually came back to apologize. Plus, I brought peace offerings.”

I begin to pull a couple of sweet rolls out of my bag. “I don’t know what you eat, but these are some of my favorites.” I hand him the food, and he takes it, looking at me suspiciously. He takes a hesitant bite and I immediately see his eyes light up.

“They’re good, aren't they?” I gloat with a slight smirk on my face.

“These are quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever tasted!” He exclaims loudly.

I let out a short bark of laughter at that. He quickly finishes both of the rolls and proceeds to come a little closer, resting his elbows on the rock I’m resting on. I find myself inching back instinctively, but instantly regret it after seeing the downcast look on Phil’s face.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For assuming that you and the rest of your species were murderous beasts? I brought one of my history books so you could see it from my perspective.” I slowly pull the book out of my bag and hand it to him, making sure not to drop it in the water. He opens it and flips through the pages. Then, to my complete and utter surprise, he bursts out laughing. Hysterically laughing. Laughing so hard that his tongue pokes out of his mouth. He quickly puts the book on the rocks so that he doesn’t drop it.

“Why are you laughing? I thought you would be...well I don’t know what I thought your reaction would be, but certainly not laughter!”

“I’m laughing because this is simply the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. Merfolk’s don’t look like this! They all look like me! Well, similarly to me anyway. If I looked like this I would have converted a long time ago.”

“Converted?” I ask, confusion evident in my voice.

“That is what I said yes. Any merfolk can choose to become human. It’s complicated, supposedly painful, and it doesn’t happen very often, but it is an option.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, there seems to be a lot of things you don’t know.” He sounds teasing as if he was talking to an old friend and not someone he had met yesterday.

“Maybe you could teach me?”

“Are you really willing to learn? You still seem scared of me.”

“I am still a little scared, to be honest, but it seems that our historians got some things wrong when it comes to the ocean, and I want to know the truth.” He smiles brightly, and in that moment I knew that I would do whatever I could to see that smile again.

----

To my surprise, visiting Phil has become my favorite past time. I bring him food and books and stories, and in exchange, he teaches me about his life, tells me stories, and gives me the gift of friendship. I am going back home after one of such these days when I find a letter from my parents. Great. I love my village, I’ve got a small house perched on top of a tree, and I love visiting the markets and walking on the soft pine needle carpeted floors. That being said, everything about my home is tainted by my family. I was never anything my father wanted to be. I stopped studying and became a pathetic drop out living off of odd jobs and his parents’ financial support. So getting a letter from them asking to come over for dinner is far from good news. Nevertheless, I prepare to endure the endless streams of questions such as ‘Do you have a job?’, ‘Are you eating enough?’, Or perhaps most annoying of all, ‘Do have a girlfriend?’ My parents are obsessed with micromanaging my life. They’re constantly trying to set me up with horrible banking jobs and nice mellow mannered girls from good families. I hate it with a passion. And yet I don’t have the courage to tell them that I don’t want either of those things. I arrive at my parents' house. I take a deep breath and knock on the door.

----

Dinner is awkward, to say the least. There’s a blanket of silence that lays over the table that almost never accompanies family dinners. It’s nice, peaceful even. It allows me to have the illusion that I’m not a disappointment to the family name. That is until my father clears his throat.

“So, Daniel,” I hate when he calls me that. “Where have you been going every day? Did you find a job?” I stutter and nearly choke on a bite of potatoes. They noticed. Of course, they noticed. I’ve been so stupid. They cannot find out about Phil. It would only end badly for both of us.

“Oh, not exactly.”

“Care to explain?”

“I’ve been um, studying uh, history?” I grab at the first excuse that enters my mind.

“History? Where?”

“The next town over has a nice library. I’m thinking about pursuing a career in it.” There, that should keep them satisfied for now.

“Oh! That’s wonderful Dan!” My mother says with a warm smile on her face. I begin to feel guilt growing in my stomach. If she knew what I was really doing would she still be smiling? Certainly not. And I hadn’t seen her this proud of me since primary school. I smile weakly and try to eat more food even though I now feel sick to my stomach.

-Phil’s POV-

After a few months, Dan slowly becomes my favorite part of my daily routine, and I often find myself missing him when he’s not here. Although there are other things to look forward to, my parents are visiting today. It’s still too cold for them to stay here for long periods of time, but they claim to miss me, so they’re swimming down for a day. I’m waiting for them just outside of our house, rubbing my arms together to try and ward off some of the chill. I begin to see their dark silhouettes emerging from the murky water, and I quickly swim out to meet them. My mother quickly embraces me with a warm hug, and out of the corner of my eye, I see my father smile warmly. My father has never been as affectionate as my mother, but over the years I’ve learned that he shows his affection in different ways.

The minute we get back in the house my mother immediately comments on the lack of nutritious food.

“Goodness, Phil! Have you been eating at all?”

“Um, well…” I stammer at a loss for words, unsure how to explain to her that I’ve been eating large amounts of fairy food every day.

“No matter,” She interrupts my mildly panicked mumbling “Fortunately I predicted this and brought some food with me.” She begins to pull food out of her sack, far too much food for three people I might add, and I chuckle fondly.

“So Phil, what have you been doing lately?” My father inquires. I freeze. Should I tell them? I can trust my parents with anything, can’t I?

“Well, I’ve um, been spending some time on the beach…”

“Not too much time I hope,” My mother says jokingly “We wouldn’t want you to grow legs and run off somewhere!” I chuckle weakly.

“Well actually, I’ve been making some friends,” My mother looks at me confused and before she can interrupt I rush to continue “His name is Dan, and he’s very nice, I’ve been teaching him about merfolk culture.”

“This...Dan, he’s not a pixie is he?” My father says apprehensively, sharing a worried look with my mother.

“Well yes, but…” My father breaks me off. “Absolutely not. Fairies are dangerous. All they want is to hurt us. Humans I could possibly allow, but I will not see you talking to fairies.”

“I know dad, and I thought that he wanted to hurt me at first too but he’s actually very caring, and he just wants to understand,” My father stands up abruptly.

“We need to leave, and this time you’re coming with us. I can’t have you endangering yourself and others.”

“What? No! I’m staying here! I like it here!”

“Phil,” My mother says weakly “Please don’t do this. We need you to stay safe.”

“Why does everyone hate them so much anyway? What did they ever do to us?”

My mother and father share another loaded look.

“A long time ago, when your grandmother was still a young girl, fairies discovered the ocean. They were fascinated, naturally, they had never seen anything like it before. And the merfolk were scared. These creatures were coming to close for comfort, and tensions were running high between the two species. One day, a curious fairy wandered to close to the water. There was a mermaid there, the boy was fascinated, he’d never seen anything like her before, not knowing what she was he tried to capture her. The mermaid, scared and confused, tried to get him to go away,” My father breaks off, his voice choked up. “And when he didn’t, she drowned him. After that, the two communities were at each other's throats. Merfolk began mercilessly killing off fairies, and fairies were hunting and capturing merfolk by the dozens. Eventually, the fairy council and the merfolk council made a peace treaty. No more fighting, no more killing. But you can see why we don’t exactly get along.”

I sit in stunned silence. We had both been right, me and Dan, our ancestors had tried to kill each other. Finally, my father speaks breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the room.

“Phil I can’t force you to do anything. But please consider what I’ve told you.” He turns to face my mother “I think it’s time that we go.” She rises nodding silently and goes to hug me, just as tightly as before, although this time it was lacking warmth and joy.

---

As soon as I saw the end of my father’s tail disappear into the fog, a thought struck my brain. I have to tell Dan.”

-Dan POV-

When I get down to the beach the next day, Phil is already at our meeting place looking anxious. When I approach he looks up suddenly as if startled out of his thoughts.

“Are you ok?” I ask, worried about my normally chipper friend.

“There's something I have to tell you.” Anxiety swirls in my stomach, those words almost never lead to something good.

“Last night my parents visited.”

---

By the time Phil finishes recounting the horrific event, I feel sick to my stomach. I stand up quickly the minute he finishes speaking. I don’t know what to do. My thoughts are running wild and nothing is making sense.

“Please don’t go” I hear Phil’s voice say. He sounds scared and confused, his voice reflecting my thoughts exactly.

“I know it’s awful and confusing, but I’m hoping that we can work it out together. Just because our species have a bloody and dishonest history doesn't mean that we can’t be friends.” He sounds nervous as if there is any universe in which I wouldn’t be his friend.

“You’re right. I want to be friends.” I say with a small smile. I sit back down on the rock and Phil sets his elbows up next to where I’m sitting, causing water to splash up beside me. I flinch, my natural reaction when coming in contact with ocean water. Phil must have noticed because a small smile starts to form on his face.

“Have you seriously never been in the ocean before?”

I shake my head no, and Phil lets out a startled laugh.

“You have to try it! It’s the best thing ever!”

“Nope. No. Definitely not.”

“Please Dan? For me?” He looks up at me pouting with big blue eyes and how could I possibly say no to that?

“Fine. But only so you’ll shut up.” I say, rolling my eyes. I try to feign nonchalance but my heart is racing. Surely the water can’t be that dangerous. I cautiously dip my feet in. It’s cold and slightly terrifying, but calming at the same time. I stare in fascination at the spot where my feet disappear under the water, waves lapping at my ankles.

“That doesn’t count! You barely dipped your toes in!” Phil looks at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes and the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. Suddenly I understand Phil’s train of thought.

“No, Phil-” But it’s too late. Pale hands wrap around my ankles, pulling me down into the ocean. I emerge sputtering and wiping water out of my eyes to find Phil doubled over in laughter.

“You absolute twat! I could have drowned!” He scoffs.

“You wouldn’t have drowned. Not only is it shallow here, but I’m also here to pull you out if you were in any real danger.” I huff, but in spite of my annoyance, I feel a smile building up inside of me. I look at Phil, and I feel pure unfiltered joy. I wish I could live in this world forever, just me and Phil. My sentimental thoughts are interrupted by a shiver that wracks through my body.

“Bloody Hell, Phil! It’s fucking cold!” Another wave of laughter hits him before he opens his arms invitingly.

“Come on, a hug will warm you up.” I try to keep up my pretense of being cross, but I can’t resist the temptation to tread through the water into his arms. He wraps me up into his arms and I immediately warm up. He seems to be a swimming heater. I stay there for what feels like hours but was in reality probably less than a minute. I pull back slightly and find my eyes locked onto his. Mine brown, like the earth I had walked on since I was a very young child. His blue, like the ocean in which we were currently standing. We were so close together I could feel his gentle breath on my face, and I feel my gaze subconsciously dropping to his lips. I break away from his embrace and chuckle nervously.

“I should probably go, I don’t want to catch a cold.”

“Yeah, that’s, uh, probably a good idea.” He seems so disheartened compared to a few minutes ago, and I long to say ‘No wait! I made a mistake, I want to stay here forever!’ but I need time to process the thoughts running through my head. I slowly pull myself out of the water. I stand up and turn to walk away.

“Dan?” I turn around,

“Yeah?”

“I- I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?”

“Definitely.”

---

By the time I get back to my home, thankfully without being spotted in my sopping wet clothes, I have come to the inevitable conclusion that I fancy Phil. This is a terrifying thought because there is absolutely no way that Phil could ever reciprocate my feelings. I suppose the best solution is to ignore these feelings until they go away. After all, it’s just a little crush.

---

This isn’t working. Every day my feelings for Phil grow stronger. It’s like a rose blooming in my heart. Soft beautiful petals representing the happiness I feel when I am around him and the hope that perhaps he could feel the same way, while the thorns represent the facts of reality.

-Phil’s POV-

Ever since I got Dan to come into the ocean, I can hardly keep him out of it. Nearly every time he visits he immediately jumps into the waves. This has done nothing to help my growing feelings for the other boy. When Dan was on land and I was not, there was a clear, visible barrier between us that helped keep my feelings at bay. But now that he is in water with me, so close that I could reach out and touch him, I find my feelings snowballing every day. How could someone not fall in love with Dan? He’s perfect. Absolutely, amazingly, perfect.

---

A few more weeks pass, and I think I have to tell Dan how I feel. It’s getting impossible to bottle it up. Dan’s constantly being flirtatious, without ever officially making a move. The hope that my feelings could possibly be reciprocated continues to grow. But how? In what way can I possibly reveal the romantic feelings I harbor without humiliating myself? The question hangs over my head, making the task seem even more daunting.

---

It’s a beautiful day, sunny and warm. Dan is lounging next to me on the same sunny rock that he sat on the first time we talked. We’re not talking, but the silence isn’t awkward. With Dan, gaps in conversation are never uncomfortable. The quiet understanding covers me like a blanket. Instead of talking I take time to simply sit and watch Dan. His eyes are closed, face turned up to the sun. He has a small smile on his lips making his dimples pop. I’m struck with the sudden realization that I might be in love with him. It’s terrifying, but my brain is invaded with thoughts of growing old with him, of living together, of having a family with him. The tidal wave of emotions causes me to take a sharp breath. Dan turns to look at me, his warm eyes gazing at me fondly.

“What’s up?” I feel my heart burst in my chest and I know I have to tell him.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

“And that is?”

“Um I- I like you. Actually I mean I might love you, but that’s a rather recent development so I’m not completely sure-” I pause at the look on his face. He has turned fully towards me, and his mouth is open in shock. I immediately feel shame growing inside me and rush to apologize.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, and you probably hate me now -” I’m cut off by Dan once more, however this time it is from Dan pressing his lips to mine. I melt into the kiss, his lips lotting into mine like they are pieces of the same puzzle. He pulls away, his face splitting into a shy grin.

“I think I might love you too.”

- Dans POV-

The months after we confessed our feelings are some of the happiest of my life. The many months that I’ve spent with Phil have been a roller coaster of emotions. Curiosity, anger, fear, infatuation, and now we seem to have fallen in sync with each other, a feeling that can only be described as love. But alongside the happiness there’s also pain. I can only see him for a few hours every day, and even then I can only hold him close to me for a small fraction of that time, and I’m sick of having to sneak back from visiting him everyday because my clothes are dripping with saltwater. These thoughts have been plaguing my brain for weeks now, and after a lot of research I think I might have found a solution.

---

It looks like it’s going to rain. Not ideal for visiting the ocean, since I usually get soaked anyway and the rain adds an extra layer of chill. I sit on the rocks, dipping my feet in the water, anxiously waiting for Phil to arrive. When he finally swims to the surface my eyes light up with excitement.

“Phil!”

“Dan!” He exclaims, mocking my excited expression. I take a deep breath, a cocktail of anticipation of nerves swirling in my stomach.

“I have an idea to propose to you. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and we both know that our situation isn’t ideal, to say the least. I did some research, and I think that there’s a way for me to become human. I know you’ve mentioned converting before, but I know it’s a hard and permanent decision. But even if you don’t want to do it, I still think I will, I love you more than I can put into words, and I want to escape this prison that I’ve put myself into. The past between our species horrifies me, and I hope that by converting I can begin to break down that barrier. I want to be able to hold your hand and go on adventures with you, and I-” My voice breaks and I realize that I’ve started to cry.

“Dan,” Phil says, voice cracking with emotion, “I want that too. All of that, and honestly I’ve been thinking about the same thing, and if you’re sure you want to do this, I want to join you.”

“Okay, alright, then let’s do this,” I say smiling as I wipe a tear from my face.

“Let's do this.”

---

My first thought when I get back to the forest is that I have to tell my parents. At least my mom. If I disappear off into the human world, she deserves at least some sort of explanation. With that thought I change directions and head to my childhood home.

---

I approach slowly and knock faintly on the door. Despite how quiet my knock was, my mother still answers within seconds.

“Dan! What a wonderful surprise! Please come in, I just finished making biscuits.” We walk in to the warmly lit kitchen and she ushers me to the stools by the kitchen counter. I take a seat, and she bustles around gathering plates and mugs. She sits down, placing a mug of tea and a plate with a biscuit on it.

“So dear, not that I don’t love it when you visit, but why are you here?”

“Well,” I start, I break eye contact and instead gaze into the murky brown of my tea. “I-I um, I think, and I’ve thought about it a lot, and done some research, and I uh, want to become human.” She looks at me with soft eyes.

“You met someone, didn’t you?”

“Well I mean, yes. I met someone.”

“Who is it? What girl is so special that she can draw my baby into the human world?”

“For starters, his name is Phil,” my mother’s eye brows raise in surprise. “And he’s not exactly human, in fact he’s actually a mermaid. But don’t worry! He’s very sweet! Probably the sweetest person you’ll ever meet, and he’s going to convert too, and-” I break off in surprise as my mother rises from her seat and quickly envelopes me into a hug.

“Darling, I want more than anything for you to be happy. And I trust you to make good decisions about who you spend your time with. If you need help, I’m always here.” Instead of words, I decided to just pour all of my love and gratitude into the hug.

---

“Now Dan,” My mother is once again seated across from me, this time her face serious. “Converting isn’t easy, and it’s permanent.”

“I know. I’m not rushing into this.”

“I know.” She smiles. “It’s not complicated, you must simply have someone cut off your wings at the very base. Now the tricky part is that if you have any reservations about it, any at all, it will be extremely painful. More painful than anything else you will ever feel. That being said, if you believe that you are truly doing the right thing for yourself, the cut will be quick and painless.”

I swallow, nerves swirling in my gut. But then I think of Phil, of his eyes and his smile, and all my doubts melt away.

“Can we do it now?”

“Now?”

“Yes. I want to do it as soon as possible, and there’s no one that I’d rather have do it then you.”

“I- alright then. If you're sure.”

“I am.” I hear her take a deep breath as she rustles around looking for a knife. I hear her come up behind me.

“Can you, take off you shirt for me dear? It will be easier that way.” I do as she says, and then take a deep breath to steady myself. I feel the cold metal against my skin, and then a soft tingling, similar to the feeling you get when your foot falls asleep. I feel my wings fall, and for a moment I feel my skin melding together, leaving no trace them. I turn around and see my mother smiling.

“Did it hurt?”

“Not at all.”

“Then you should go to him. I’ll always be waiting for you if you ever need to come back.” I hug her tightly a few tears falling from my eyes onto her shoulder.

“I love you.”

She gives a wet chuckle, “I know, my darling.”

-Phils POV-

I decided a long time ago that I wanted to convert to human, and now that Dan’s doing it too my decision is set in stone. I also decided a long time ago that I didn’t need my parents’ help or acceptance. The merfolk history nauseates me, and now that I know the truth I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life as one of these creatures. According to Dan, his conversion was easy with no complications. When I saw him walking down to the ocean, a large grin replacing his wings, I cried tears of joy. He jumped into the water and wrapped me up in his arms. Unfortunately, the merfolk are a little more dramatic. In order to properly convert, it has to be a full moon. I have to remove ten scales and then my tail will supposedly fall away to reveal legs. Technically, no one else had to be there, but I told Dan many times that I want him with me regardless. As I gaze at the ocean, lounging on a rock while waiting for him, I hear him approach.. I turn around excited to see him. He looks tired and disheveled as if he’d just woken up. Which, to be fair, he probably did. I curiously look at the bundle of clothes he has in his arms.

“What are those?”

“Oh, uh, those are clothes. For you. After you transition, I mean.”

“Oh yeah, of course. I didn’t even think of that.” I give a nervous chuckle. He sits down next to me and pulls me into his arms.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” His whisper tickles my ear.

“Of course.” I pull away slightly and begin tugging at my scales. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. I hesitate. Dan locks eyes with me and gives me a small smile as he gently squeezes my hand. He says so much in that smile. He says ‘I love you’ and ‘I will support you no matter what you do.’ I take a deep breath as I pull the last scale.

---

I inhale sharply in amazement as my scales begin to slide off of me, forming a puddle around where I am sitting. I begin to see pale skin replace the deep blue. Dan passes me a shirt and a pair of trousers and I quickly turn and dress. Or try to. I’m clearly not used to legs, or being on land. Dan laughs loudly, and quickly stands up to help me stand. I fall into his chest and join in his laughter. He pulls away slightly and places a gentle kiss on my lips.

“Do you want to leave now? Or wait?”

“Now. I want to get started on my new life with you.”

---

As we’re walking through the forest, on the way to a train station that can take us to London, Dan pauses behind what must be his parent’s house. He looks and suddenly the back door swings open. A kind looking middle aged woman walks out, Dan’s mother I’m assuming. She looks at us. At first her expression is shocked, but then it slowly transforms into one of happiness and love. She winks, then turns around and closes the door.

-Dan’s POV-

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you before now. Phil and I are really happy in the human world. It wasn’t easy at first, we had to find someone who could give us fake information to make everyone believe that we had been in the human world forever and didn’t just spawn into existence a year ago. I am going to give this letter to the agent that helped us, and I sincerely hope it gets to you. Fortunately, this letter is filled with happy things. I wrote a book, about the magical ‘fantasy’ world of fairies and mermaids, and Phil has been working as a marine biologist ever since he found his ‘land legs’. We have a house, a dog, and a gaming system where we spend way too much time playing mario kart. Don’t get me wrong, there a lot of things that are bad here. Take taxes for example. But at least here me and Phil can have the life we’ve dreamed about. In fact, I’m trying to put some of those once distant plans in motion. After I finish this letter I’m going to propose to Phil, that is unless I back out, and I hope with all my heart that he’ll say yes. Because I love him. So so much. So much that someday I want to have a family with him, as scary as that is. I want you to be a part of that too. Please write back, maybe we can plan a time to meet. I want you to meet Phil, formally this time.

Much Love,

Dan

I put my pen down and fold my letter into an envelope. I put it on the kitchen counter, nearly tripping over Otto, our corgi. I walk out to the back garden where Phil is sitting on a bench looking out at the sea. I place a gentle kiss on his forehead before sitting down next to him.

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever miss it? The ocean?”

“Sometimes. But it doesn’t matter, because you’re worth a million oceans.” I shove him lightly, a fond smile on my face. I take a deep breath and pull the rings out of my pocket. Phil gasps, and it takes a lot of self restraint to not burst into laughter at the look on his face.

“Phil, you are easily the most important person in my life. I would cross continents for you, and it is my deepest hope that you would do the same for me. So with that thought in mind, I would like to ask you to marry me.”

“Oh my god Dan, yes! Of course yes.” I smile as I slip the ring onto his finger. It’s simple, containing a small bit of feather from my wings. It matches mine, the same design but with some of Phil’s old scales instead of feathers. He laughs.

“What are you laughing for?” I say indignantly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so cheesy.”

“Shut up, it’s supposed to be cheesy.”

#prb2019 #prb #phandom #phanfiction #Phandom reverse bang #daniel howell #phil lester #Dan and Phil

17 notes · View notes

writingwitchly · 6 years

Text

Together

I would love something about a hufflepuff and slytherin friendship. Maybe it's like a quick flashback to things that happened in the book and what everyone else was doing to help? I just love the slutherpuff vibe so anything about that is cool. Thanks so much! ~ @lillianhappy / for @fanficnet

Word count: 3,1k

Warning: war / light injuries / light swearing

A/N: Wow. My first non-pairing fic, and it felt so good to write. I sticked to the Slytherpuff vibe, but had to make it a lil more dramatic. I shamelessly cried at the end, silly me. Please enjoy and don’t hesitate in sending some feedback!

***

Prologue:

The night was dark.

Harry Potter had just warned the school of the imminent attack. People were worried. And scared.

Some of them were aware of what was happening, others hadn’t been reached by the news yet.

Some wanted to leave, others needed to stay.

Some faked to be brave, others couldn’t hold back tears.

Some were injured, others were fighting with themselves.

Amidst the confused crowd, some were Slytherins, others were Hufflepuffs.

***

“Does Mr. Will desire something else?”

The elf’s croaky voice was barely audible in the tumult of pots and pans, but Will shook his head in denial. He’d got more than he needed.

“No, thank you very much,” he sleepily said, eyeing with an expert’s eyes the fruits and chocolate cake he would bring to his sick friend. “That’ll be enough.”

The creature bowing was a blurry figure through the narrow space that the first year’s eyelids left him to see. This late trip to the kitchen was not a good idea, especially because of the night patrols that frightened him so much, but he’d do anything to help his fellow Hufflepuffs. He made his way back to the exit, trying to not trip over his own feet in the way.

As he emerged into the hallway, a thunder of steps coming from the end of the corridor forced him to an unsteady halt. It was not long before he found himself engulfed in a sea of black hats and green ties, shoved left and right and not even glanced at.

Several dark robes and night outfits bolted in front of his eyes, now wide with shock and surprise, before somebody finally stopped in front of him, sheltering him from more harm. He had to incline his head a great deal of degrees backward to spot a face with dark freckles looking down at him.

“What are you doing here?” a voice snapped. Then, when its owner’s gaze fell on the plate Will succeeded to sustain only by miracle, the voice replied to its own question, “Of course, Hufflepuffs and their bottomless stomach.”

Will’s brain lasted a few seconds to process the girl’s words, while her housemates kept running away.

“It’s not for me,” he retorted, though not as sharply as he wished. “My friend is sick and this is for he-”

The Slytherin rolled her eyes. The corridor was now silent with the kind of heavy atmosphere that precedes a storm.

“I don’t care, anyway,” she blurted. Slughorn’s panicked words still trotted in the back of her mind, and the Headmaster’s absence couldn’t mean anything good. She had to get out of here, as fast as she could, but she couldn’t leave the kid wandering alone. She was a Prefect after all. “Come with me.”

To these words, the little boy stumbled back, refusing to follow her.

“You need to come with me,” she hissed.

“No!” he shouted, retreating a bit more, until he hit the cold surface of a niche in the wall.

What was I thinking? She bit her tongue, ready to catch up on the rest of her group. I can’t play the hero like that, that’s for stupid, gutsy Gryffindors.

But something held her back. The Hufflepuff’s round face resembled so much that of her ten-years-old brother, with chubby cheeks and a confused look, and so did his expression of fear.

He doesn’t know what’s happening, chanted a voice in the back of her mind.

Besides, what would this boy find behind his Common Room door? Just empty space to look at. Professor Slughorn stated that all houses were to head to the Great Hall.

Internally swearing, she brusquely swung round and grabbed his arm in an impulse, trying to get him out of the alcove where he was half-hiding, which only resulted in the plate hitting the ground with a loud shattering noise as Will freed himself.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, her question coming out as a frustrated shout.

Whatever was happening may be getting to them right then, and she shivered at the thought of another creature such as the Basilisk haunting the castle.

“You’re mean,” Will answered, his eyes sparkling with tears.

“What?” Her face was now dilated in a genuine mask of surprise.

“The fifth years,” he sniffed, “They told me not to trust Slytherins.”

For an instant, she stood there, gaping at the child, while he rubbed the point of his nose.

“I thought that only stupid Gryffindors joked about this,” she whispered.

Her heart made a strange bump, the same it made when her favorite dessert failed to show up on the tables, or when somebody mocked her for her size. Without wanting it, she realized that she cared, she was a bit deceived by the Hufflepuffs’ behavior.

A loud clattering, like of a thousand of spades hitting the ground, made them both jump, and Will let out a squeak of horror.

Suppressing her own fear, the teenager crouched, so her eyes were on the same level as the kid’s.

“What’s your name?” she asked in the friendliest tone that her building pressure allowed her to use.

“Will,” he sobbed.

A metallic bang coming from the floor above theirs announced the closing of the Great Hall’s door. Cold sweat was running down the neck of the Slytherin.

“Listen, Will. I’m Emilie. I bet you everything you want that things are getting pretty ugly up there, and we better find some other people to tell us what to do.” She let that sink in, then added, “I promise I won’t hurt you. I just want you to get out of here safe and sound. Do you trust me?”

Her last words were followed by her hand reaching out.

Will first winced. But then, his watery eyes narrowed as he looked down at this huge, brown palm, twice as big as his. Finally, his fingers found their way around it.

“Yes,” he breathed.

Emilie straightened.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here, come on.”

***

“Amanda!”

What that abyssal idiot of Pansy Parkinson was thinking back in the Great Hall when she opened that big mouth of hers, Jason didn’t care anymore. But still, if only she had shut her trap, Slytherins wouldn’t have been the first to get to the passage.

“Amanda! Where are you?”

His cry was only one more in the confused mess of people waiting by the door of the Room of Requirements, so no wonder nobody seemed to react to it more than to the others.

With nervous fingers, he got his tie off his neck. It didn’t matter to him if the yellow piece of fabric ended up forgotten in the dust, trampled by the multitude of present people. He didn’t need to feel more suffocated.

“Amanda!”

A blond head jerked in his direction, but its corresponding face was far from being Amanda’s.

“Stop shouting, Jason, she probably doesn’t want to hear about you anymore.”

Blue eyes defied green ones.

“Shut up, Zacharias. I just want to make sure she gets through that goddamn passage before they close it.”

Green eyes were now almost out of their orbit. “They’re going to close it?”

Jason tsked. “No, you idiot, it’ll stay open so the Death Eaters won’t even have to break the wa-”

But Zacharias was already elbowing away anybody who dared to stand between him and the door, far from the reach of Jason’s voice.

“Coward,” the remaining Hufflepuff muttered, but his voice raised as he spotted a well-known mane of blonde hair, “Amanda!”

This time, it’s the correct glance that finds his, and the two teenagers collide in a hug.

“I was so worried,” said the young man, a hand caressing the girl’s hair.

“For yourself, I hope,” she smiled, pulling away.

He weakly grinned back. Slytherins have such a many to stay proud beyond possibilities, he sometimes laughed about it.

“Stay in the file,” he urged her.

For the first time in her life, Amanda obeyed him.

“But stay with me,” she murmured, intertwining their fingers. “We’ll leave together.”

Her eyes tore from his, and instead stared unseeingly at the front of the line of students. This meant the conversation was over.

A knot tied Jason’s throat. How would he tell her?

She was only fifteen, but he was already overage. He wasn’t going to leave without raising his wand in honor of Cedric’s memory.

While the boy fought with his own thoughts, another blow quaked the castle, making small columns of dust fall, like dull fairy powder, from the roof. Without thinking about it, he attracted the girl closer to him.

Soon, too soon, it was time to cross the exit.

“Listen, I-”

Amanda squeezed his hand tightly. “Take care, please. And don’t forget to properly raise your wand.”

There was a smile on her lips that didn’t reach her eyes, which she blinked furiously.

“How’d you-”

“Mom sometimes says I should’ve been sorted into Ravenclaw. But I’m fine being a Slytherin.” She shrugged. “And you’re a Hufflepuff, loyal until and after death.”

She exaggeratedly grimaced, but Jason knew it was her way to cope with the separation.

Her fingers parted from his, and she brought them under her messy hair.

“Here,” she said, as she handed him her necklace, “To keep your clumsy ass from getting into more trouble.”

He took her gift, feeling his heart swell. “Love you, lil sis.”

“See you soon, big bro.”

Jason was afraid, but he’d fight for a better world. For her.

He would not forget, for the rest of his life, her look as she stepped into the darkness leading to safety.

***

Professor McGonagall had said not to get back for their properties, but for her it was easy to say. She hadn’t left her ring, the only heirloom she owned from her deceased mother, in her dormitory.

Salma was running up the steps two by two now, the little metallic circle safely stuck around her finger, hoping to remember where the Prefects had said they would take everybody.

She was covered in dirt, and had already been forced twice to turn back on her steps, by explosions that missed her for scarce, lucky inches. Her ears were filled with tearing cries, stamping footsteps, and echoing crashes, and the pounding of blood rushing to her head melted with that of her bare feet on the uneven ground.

The world was crumbling around her.

The corridor that she believed was the right one finally came into sight, but in her excitement she tripped over the last stair, and landed on the carpeted ground with a muffled thump.

She tried to raise but, to the slightest movement, a snake of fire and ice ran up the inside of her right leg, coiling itself around her bone from under her calf up to the knee.

Crap, she thought, beads of helplessness cascading from her eyes, she must have twisted her ankle.

Again, a tremendous blast caused the ground to shake, and she could hear victorious yelling coming from the outside, vibrating in her head as if the invasion happened between her temples.

She started calling for help, but who would come to rescue her in the dark hole where she had landed herself? She crossed her forearms, to have a place where to let her forehead rest and cry.

However, as desperation was taking over her, a thread of hope came from far to the left. It was someone, she believed, calling back.

Salma ordered her heart to stop beating so furiously, so she could listen harder and decide whether she was making herself illusions.

But no.

“Is anyone here?”

“Hey! We’re here to help!”

Never, in her thirteen-years-old life, had anything sounded so beautiful to her as these voices did.

“Here!” she yelled, adrenaline giving her the power to do so.

Soon, feet were scurrying toward her, and her body was lifted from its uncomfortable position.

“Are you okay?” asked one of her saviors.

Passed the few seconds of relief, Salma’s nerves activated themselves to remind her that the pain was still there, searing through her lower body. All she could do was hum a no in response, taking in the familiar features of the Hufflepuff twin girls she had several times insulted, smirking with her friends, for being Mudbloods.

She had been so mean to them, how come they were helping her now?

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, “So, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she heard before drifting into unconsciousness.

“We’ll take you to a safe place.”

***

“There, Longbottom!”

Professor Sprout had always been a pacific woman.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

But when it came to defend her school, her students, and what she believed in, she reasoned like her Gryffindor colleague: she dueled to kill.

“Where is Habbot?”

The blonde girl tapped her shoulder, making her start. She was mouthing silent words.

“I don’t hear you!” shouted the teacher. In fact, she didn’t hear anything at all. Had the Battle stopped? Impossible, shots of light were fired haphazardly from the ground to the castle and back. “Confringo!”

Her attention came back to Hannah’s worried features and waving hands. She had always thought of the girl as of a delicate begonia, but she was now fighting harder than a Devil’s Snare, just like the Longbottom kid. She was very proud of these two.

“What are y-” But she finally understood the girl’s gesturing, and with a firm hand removed the protective cask from her ears.

The loud chaos hit her.

“Neville and I are going back for more Mandrakes, Professor!” shouted her student, her voice hoarse.

A cavernous grunt resonated higher than the now habitual discord.

“Take the others with you, there is not much more they can do here!”

“What about you?”

Professor Sprout turned her back on Hannah without answering, afraid that her response would come out quivering. After a short while, and despite the explosions and roars, she heard a dozen of shoes hammering the ground toward the opposite direction.

“Oppugno! Incarcerous!” Her voice was high and determined. If she had to die, she would do it fighting at her best.

“Protego!”

A dazzling blue light came from behind her back, diverting the course of a red attack. She turned around and her eyes met a panting mass.

“Horace! What are you doing up here?”

The man had slumped to the floor, exhausted.

Professor Sprout scanned him suspiciously for a split-second: if he thought he would find a secure space to rest on the tower, he was very much mistaken.

“C- Came across- Your students,” he puffed. “Said you were- alone.”

He was already raising when a blast on the walls sent him back to the floor. The woman hurried to help him to his feet.

“You can’t stay alone, Pomona. Come back inside.”

Slughorn’s gaze was hidden behind a veil of worry, his pupils stretched in fear.

“No.”

Her answer was rotund. This was the place they had assigned her to defend, her part of the castle to protect. It was under her responsibility. If she had chivied the children away, it was because she knew it was too dangerous for them to stay now.

Slughorn swallowed painfully.

“Then I shall stay with you, my friend.”

In a common, silent accord, both professors turned to face the courtyard, wands raised.

***

“You can’t stay here!”

“Don’t tell me what I can d-”

The wall behind the two quarreling teenagers exploded, sending them flying through the air, and spraying them with pieces of glass and concrete.

The girl reacted first, covering her head with both arms, and the boy followed her actions. They were several feet apart, their sallow and tan skin now white with dirt, coughing like crazy to free their respiratory system, but still arguing,

“Did you see this? It’s dangerous, Elke! You can’t stay!”

Elke opened her mouth to retort, pushing her body up with her elbows, but was forced to lay down again, a new choking crisis getting to her lungs. “You’re an idiot, Nat! If it’s dangerous for me, it is for you too!”

Another shot ripped the night above their heads, a lugubrious firework followed by cries of shock.

Elke and Nat raised hurriedly, hiding themselves behind a corner to have the time to evaluate and mend their injuries.

“It’s not the same thing,” rasped her friend, while examining the cuts on her forehead.

“You’re so stubborn,” she replied bitterly, ripping a sleeve from her robes to wrap it around Nat’s new wound. “No wonder you were sorted into Slytherin.”

The boy spluttered.

She was still resentful, after seven years, that they had been sorted into different Houses? It was not his fault!

“Hey.” He pushed her chin upward with his index. “But we managed to stay best friends, didn’t we?”

Yeah, they did.

“That’s why I need to battle too. To cover your back.”

Nat didn’t know if this was more fidelity or obstinacy.

“I told you, you can’t stay! You’re-”

“I am what?” she yelled. “A girl? A Hufflepuff? That’s why I can’t fight?”

The young man bit his lip. How far from the truth she was.

You’re my best friend, he wanted to shout back. I can’t manage to lose you!

But instead, his mouth articulated, “Yes, you’re a bloody Hufflepuff, and all your loyalty is going to do is get you into troubl-”

“Can you stop and observe the world for a minute?” The girl’s hands grasped her friend’s collar. “Don’t you see that everybody is being brave? Loyal? Resourceful? Witty? It’s not about houses anymore, here. We’re all in the same boat!”

The time seemed to slow down. None of them produced a sound as they listened hard to their surroundings.

Slytherins, that had come back with Nat, were encouraging Gryffindors, dueling with them instead of against them. They also followed Hufflepuffs, who had found their way through a passageway that had conducted them to the side of the enemy’s army, which was now retreating a bit under the surprise attack. Ravenclaws and students from the red House helped injured combatant getting to safety, where girls with green ties would pop flasks of potion open. There weren’t even much ties left, Nat observed, around the neck of their owners. They were decorating the walls, the courtyard, the hallways, thrown pell mell like forgotten confetti. All the students, he realized, now harbored their injuries like proud flags.

Hogwarts was being defended not by Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors, but by people who wore the same colors: the colors of determination and caring. The colors of justice and freedom.

His eyes came back to face Elke.

“You’ll cover my back?”

“Until my last breath.”

“Then let’s do this. Together?”

Grabbing hands, they stepped out under the starry night.

“Together.”

#***writing #slytherin #hufflepuff #slytherpuff #hufflerin #oc #horace slughorn #pomona sprout #neville longbottom #hannah abbott #fanficnet

81 notes · View notes

fxngsfxgarty · 7 years

Text

youth, ever fading youth

so I wrote my first ever riverdale fic. it’s about nonbinary/trans jughead, obviously.

Jughead Jones has been Jughead Jones, or some similar variation on the name, for as long as they can remember knowing how to talk.

Also on AO3 here.

Jughead Jones has been Jughead Jones, or some similar variation on the name, for as long as they can remember knowing how to talk.

At seven, they are JJ. Elementary school for JJ seems to be a constant loop of days where the teacher would say “Florence” on roll call, and they’d say “JJ, Ma’am,” and expect the mistake to be corrected. The teachers always seem to ask “JJ? How does JJ come from Florence?” and JJ just says “It came from my head, Ma’am.”

And that has to be an acceptable answer. For a seven year old, there isn’t another one. Because when you’re seven, if something is in your head then it has to be real. Everything you’ve imagined or dreamed up in your life up to that point is met with adults saying “really? Is that right? What happened to you after that?” even if it’s just you in your pajamas with sleepy eyes and tousled curls, talking about hearing Father Christmas and the reindeer on the roof of the trailer in the night, or telling your Mom and Dad that you and your sister fought a dragon when they sent you out to play.

You win the fight, of course. You and your sister always slay the dragons when you’re together.

When eleven rolls around, the adults stop believing so much in the stories and spells you dream up. Jay is in middle school and their mom doesn’t drive them to the gates any more. Mom takes Jellybean to elementary and leaves them to take the bus with the bigger kids. The older kids think it’s fun to snatch hats and toss them around, and it becomes routine for Jay to not unwrap the granola bar Mom leaves them on the counter until they’re safely sitting down, because it ends up on the ground in the aisle more than once, trodden into the mud-stains and footprints and crumbled into oaty dust. The hat ends up back on Jay’s head by the end of the ride most days, and if it doesn’t, it’s in the lost property box by the end of the day and they get a lecture from the receptionist about taking care of their belongings.

“Your parents don’t buy you things for you to lose them,” she says, and doesn’t pay attention when Jay says that the kids on the bus take it and play catch every morning. “You should be careful about the tales you tell on others, Florence. Making up stories won’t do you any good as you get older. It’s time to leave the fairy tales to the younger ones.”

Jay’s sister is still one of the younger ones, and at night, they hide under the blanket together with a torch and a big hardback book of stories about frogs and peas and princesses, and Jay reads in one of Jellybean’s ears and covers the other with a small hand, nails bitten almost down to the quick. Jellybean’s silky dark hair is soft beneath their touch, not yet curling like Jay’s does. Jay wonders whether, if they’d stayed young forever, they wouldn’t have had to do this. Because outside the safety of the blanket cocoon, Dad is drunk and Mom is crying, “get out, get away from me and my kids,” and Dad spits back with “you get out”, except laden with cuss words that kids aren’t allowed to say, and Mom says “maybe I will, FP, maybe I will.”

Jughead is almost fourteen when the sex ed classes come true, the ones where the teachers split the class up, “boys on the left line, girls on the right” and Jughead almost hesitated before following the girls’ line, because they always got grouped with them and their long hair and glossy lips and eyelashes painted in black gunk from pink and green tubes that only flakes off when you rub your eyes, even though it makes them itch and then you look like you’ve been crying. Jughead wants to cry at the stains they don’t know how to get out, at the pain clawing low in their stomach, at the apparent confirmation that they’ve been one of those girls all along. Because by now, by nearly fourteen, they know they don’t want to be, they’ve never been, despite the name on all the roll calls and the ugly, defiant F on official papers and test results where something else should be. They almost shout out into the small trailer for Mom, but then, Mom isn’t here. Mom is gone, and so is Jellybean. This is Jughead and Dad, and Dad isn’t here right now. Dad’s hanging out in the bar with the other guys with snake tattoos and motorcycles, so Jughead may just be on their own.

They’re still on their own at one in the morning, sitting in the shower tray, but the water ran cold a while ago so they turned it off and stayed sitting there in their wet clothes, shaking, not from the cold or the pain but with fear, with silent tears because all the sobbing seems to have faded away. Perhaps the noise has trickled down the drain with the icy water, and perhaps if they could hold a hand steady, they’d be able to peel off their skin and send it away with all the other parts they didn’t need. Maybe then everyone would see Jughead, as the person they see themself, not what someone’s always trying to tell them they are. The thought makes it tempting to break that skin apart, to see what it’s hiding underneath. To see if things can really get any worse than this.

Jug is seventeen and skinnier than ever, wears a snake-embroidered jacket and endless faded, ancient bracelets, from festivals in days gone by, bought on eBay or found in FP’s closet when they tried to clean it out with him, adorning their arms. The bracelets are good at hiding their skin when the jacket doesn’t, and if they can hide their skin from themself, they can almost believe it isn’t there at all. The leather jacket and the hat they still wear, jaw-length curls dyed inkier than ever and mostly shoved up inside it, make a sort of second skin, and if they feel like the snake, due to shed any moment, at least other people don’t know they feel that way. Other people see the snake, see danger and venom and most of them stay away. It feels good, to feel like they’re making an impact, but by god, in a crowded room that falls silent when you first walk in, before everyone picks up their conversation in groups and pairs again, it feels lonelier than they’ve perhaps ever been.

When Jug is seventeen, they meet Archie at a basement party (Kevin insists it’s not a party, it’s just a get together that just so happens to coincide with the fact that it’s Christmas soon), and Archie has chocolate eyes and cinnamon hair and doesn't say "Jug? Weird name for a girl. Weird name in general." Instead, he says, "Jug? Like... Awesome. That's totally cool. Wanna sit?" And Jug does. Archie’s clutching a beer bottle like his life depends on it, and his face reads a mix of admiration and mild horror when Jug offers him the shitty vodka they’re drinking neat from the bottle. The rejection doesn’t phase them - they just take another gulp, barely a shudder, and jam it between their thigh and the couch cushion as they settle in to talk to Archie. Archie Andrews, who likes dogs and plays guitar and apparently didn’t learn to drink at his dad’s knee like Jug did, because after a couple of bottles his eyes have become wide and remind Jug of coffee the way they drink it, black and sweet. And Archie is sweet, even when the alcohol hits and he gets fixated on the slowly blinking lights on the Christmas tree. He’s so entranced that when he gets up for water he trips.

Jug catches him automatically even through their tipsy haze, pulls him close so he can right his dizzy head, and Archie’s hands somehow find the edges of the binder holding their chest flat and in place, and he feels, and the change in his face means he knows, fuck, he knows, and that’s nearly too much for Jug to bear. They push him away into the hands of someone else, someone equally drunk, mumbling something about a smoke, and their hood is over their head before they’ve even made it out into the night.

They’re not sure what happens between that moment and the next one they know, when Kevin is outside, picking them up from the snowy ground - when did it start snowing? It’s still snowing - and taking the cigarette they’re smoking away. The ground around them is littered with butts, and they mumble out an apology with near-frozen lips, not knowing how long they’ve been out there, not knowing how much they’ve smoked or how they still aren’t sober from the bitter chill to the air. Blacking out is scary, but a memory blackout when you’ve been conscious all along is even more so. Kevin shushes them, says “shut up, Jug” and “it’s okay, everyone’s gone home” and “you’re gonna be okay, sleep here” but Kevin neglects to mention that, inside, Archie is passed out asleep on the very couch they’d talked the evening away on.

Jug can’t sleep in a binder. You’re not supposed to, it’s dangerous, it restricts your breathing and can crush your ribs if you wear it too long. But they’ll be damned if they’re telling Kevin the thing even exists, as he’s coaxing them onto the admittedly inviting warmth of the other couch, near the fireplace where the last embers are still giving off a little heat, and wrapping a soft blanket around their shaking shoulders. They’re too tired, too cold, too drunk to fight this, to fight the wave of exhaustion washing over them. It feels like the warmth and the threat of sleep is a tsunami, and Jug is paralysed on the sand of the beach where the water is going to fall. To drown them.

When they wake up, it sure as hell feels like drowning. The blanket is over their face and their head is spinning and they can’t fucking breathe, and they sit up coughing and gasping for air and somewhere along the lines the coughing brings tears to their eyes and then, of course, of course they’re crying too. Painful, choking crying, the kind that sounds like you can’t get enough air into your lungs because they can’t, it’s too tight, it hurts. It’d be humiliating to die like this.

But then there’s someone there, a hand on their shoulder, pulling the suffocating blanket away, talking in a voice Jug can’t quite place. “Easy, Jug. Shh, you’re gonna be alright. Breathe in, slowly.” They’re panicking, coughing. “I can’t!”

“You can. I know you can. I got you.”

Through the fear, the voice gets in, centres itself in Jug’s terrified mind and sits there. I got you. They don’t remember ever having anyone say that before. It’s always been them, saying that to a scared kid sister or a heartbroken Kevin or a wasted father, carrying him home. The tears dry without any further input from them, and they finally muster up the control to open their eyes. Then, of course, they nearly bolt again.

Archie.

His hand tightens on their shoulder, the other curling in their hair - the hat is gone, again, they don’t remember whether they had it when they fell asleep or not. “Steady,” Archie murmurs. “Breathe. You’re gonna be okay.” Jug takes a shaky breath in, and the pain is sharp, and their hand has to press against their ribs to try and will it away. “I know,” Archie adds in a whisper, thumb brushing the edge of the binder where it sits on Jug’s shoulder/ If they hadn’t already been feeling like they were about to pass out, they’d be feeling it now anyway. “I know. You gotta get it off… Will you trust me?” They don’t have any choice but to do that now, so a shaky nod is all the reply he gets.

And Archie gets the binder off, taking Jug’s loose black tee with it, instinctively covering their exposed skin with the blanket, but being sure to keep it away from their face. Jug inhales deeply, and it rattles and aches, but they can worry about that later. For now, their gaze is on Archie, all the panic revolves around Archie and whatever the hell just happened as they try their best to get the air back into their lungs. A couple more coughs, and Jug feels like they might be able to say something. What comes out is “don’t you say a fucking word to anyone”, and they think that maybe a thank you or an apology for waking Archie up with their drowning in air would have been more appropriate, but the words are hanging in the air now and there’s nothing they can do about them. They cough again, and Archie’s hand is once again there, now holding them steady through the blanket, making sure the shaking doesn’t knock Jug over, or at least that’s what it seems like. They’re breathing better when they say “I’m sorry.”

“You’re what?” Archie seems genuinely surprised at the words. “Jug… god, no. You don’t have to be sorry… I get it. It’s okay, so long as you’re okay.” He squeezes their shoulder in a way that’s surprisingly comforting. “Just keep breathing a little longer. I don’t wanna get blamed for you being dead when it’s actually morning.” “Time is it?” It feels like Jug’s been asleep for days.

“‘Bout five, five thirty.”

“I woke you… I’m sorry.” That gets an eye roll from Archie. “Told you, you don’t have to say that. Just be okay. I know you will be, but try to be okay soon, so I can stop freaking out… Here. I’ll turn away… if you want me to.” He’s holding out Jug’s tee, and they take it, waiting until his back is turned before pulling it on, then deciding to stay wrapped in the blanket anyway. It’s thicker, more covering, hides them just a little more. Whispering “ready” gets an “okay” in an equally quiet reply, and Archie comes back. He looks down at the couch space beside Jug and waits for a nod, like permission, before he sits. And then sits closer.

Jug closes the gap.

They’re quiet for a while, silence broken only by Jug’s still rasping breathing. They’ll deal with it, or it’ll deal with itself, in time. For now, it’s the last thing on their mind. “You said you knew,” they finally tell Archie quietly. “What did you mean? What do you know about me?”

“Probably more than you expect,” Archie replies, running a hand through his hair. Somehow, the arm ends up around Jug’s shoulders instead of back down by his side. They don’t mind as much as they probably should. “I know what a binder does. And everyone calls you ‘they’, not ‘he’ or ‘she’. It’s more obvious if you know what the puzzle pieces mean.”

Jug snorts, but it turns into a cough. “You’re being mysterious. Nobody told you that’s my job?”

“Nope. I think you say enough with your attitude. Thinking you’re unique.” A pause. Archie clears his throat, and then sighs, and then his head drops sideways to rest against Jug’s, which has at some point fallen to the redhead’s shoulder. “You’re not the only one.”

The words hang in the room like cigarette smoke, which Jug has just realised is probably clinging to their hair and skin and jeans. It must be pretty gross, but Archie’s body is curled up towards them, open, inviting and warm in a hoodie maybe three sizes too big, and he doesn’t seem to want to move away. Jug watches his face, the long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Wide brown eyes, a smudge of what could be makeup left on the corners of each eyelid. His lips look chapped, yet somehow still soft, and his cheekbones are strong and up this close, Jug can see that they’re peppered with freckles. It dawns on them, lights up the realisation like the sun casts gold over the rooftops as it rises.

“You too?”

Archie nods, closes his eyes, bites his lip and grits his teeth. Jug knows that look. It’s a look of fighting back tears.

“S’okay, Archie. We’re gonna be okay. That’s what you told me,” they murmur. “If I am, you’re gonna be too.” Archie curls up more, and then he moves and buries his face in the crook of Jug’s neck.

Jug brings a hand around to stroke at his hair. It’s sticky and stiff with day-old gel, but the residue brushes away with fingertips, and it’s soft underneath. “Gonna be okay,” Jug repeats, in their rasped whisper. Archie hums almost inaudibly in response.

They must fall asleep again, because when they wake up, all the lights are on and there’s an unexpected touch on their cheek. Their eyes open to Archie’s, hazel now it’s brighter, and close again against the sudden onslaught of a headache. Archie laughs, makes a sympathetic noise, and cups Jug’s cheek so he can kiss the other one. His lips don’t really feel all that chapped once they’re on skin, they realise with a faint smile.

Archie leans in once again and whispers, close to their ear. “Kevin’s making coffee upstairs. Said we could have some. Come with me… S’gonna be okay, Juggie.”

#jughead jones #jarchie #archie andrews #riverdale #riverdale fic #jarchie fic #jarchie fanfic #jughead #juggie #im bad at tags

17 notes · View notes