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believemetheodore · 1 year

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ophelia (heaven help the fool who falls in love)

Ted Lasso x Rebecca Welton

Warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk Rebecca, vomiting (brief mentions), emotional hurt/comfort

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“Ted?” Her voice is quiet through the phone but he's positive he can hear her crying. “Yeah, it's me, Rebecca. Are you alright? What's going on?” “I don't kn--” her words are cut short by the sound of retching, followed by a new wave of heavy sobbing, “I'm scared”. His heart clenches, and he does his best to ignore his rising pulse and racing thoughts. “Where are you, sweetheart?”

“M’room,” she sniffles. “Are you going to be able to let me in? Or should I use the spare key?” “Key”.

He's glad that the two of them had the foresight to exchange copies of their house keys. A habit Beard and him had formed years ago, and Rebecca had adopted more recently in case of lockouts, but more often than not for exchanging dinner and baked goods. Rebecca has always been pragmatic, organized, and self-sufficient. She's never lost her keys or had to break into her own home. It sits heavy in his gut the realization that swapping keys is just as much for safety as it is for convenience.

Ted and Beard have always had an unspoken support system like that. Nights in their past where the only way to fall asleep was knowing they each had a friend willing to come to check on them; another person to help them if something terrible happened. But it hadn't occurred to him that the first time he'd need Rebecca's key would be to do a safety check on her.

They care about each other, of course, they do. The thought of her suffering or in pain breaks his heart, and it's a possibility he hadn't allowed to cross his mind until now.

The moment her front door is unlocked, he's moving through the space, scanning the foyer, and the sitting area, his eyes searching the first floor before settling on the flood of light coming from the second floor. The bedroom door at the end of the hallway is closed over, but not shut all the way. It opens with an easy push, and Ted follows the sound of sniffling to the ensuite.

His knees connect with the tiled floor quicker than he can get her name out. He's met with the sound of vomiting and a tired whimper.

“Ted? Sorry, I'm messy ” “Hi, messy,” he does his best to joke hoping that it might help to calm her down.

When she turns to look at him, her cheek pressed against her arm, she looks a mess and he wishes there was a kinder way to say it. He's seen her without makeup on during late-night Facetime calls. He's seen her ill with the flu. But, he's never seen her this dishevelled.

Her hair is all out of wack, her eyes red-rimmed, her face pale, forehead sweaty. He can see her shivering despite her flushed skin.

“Too much tequila,” she mutters more to herself than him. “You were really pounding those suckers back this evening weren't you?”

He had watched her from across the room drinking enough to drown in. He knows the feeling-- the need to try to kill the feeling of not quite knowing what to feel. A desperate attempt to numb fear and confusion down into a seemingly manageable haze.

He knows he should've said something to her at the restaurant, reminded her he'd always be there as a shoulder to lean on, but instead, he'd sipped his own drinks and kept quiet.

“Do you still feel sick?” Ted asks after a few moments of quiet between them. When she shakes her head in the negative, he helps her up, his large hands supporting her under her elbows as they both rise to their feet again.

The carpeted floor of the bedroom is much warmer and much more inviting than the tiled bathroom, and Rebecca takes her time, swaying in his hold making his way towards her bed. Even inebriated beyond belief, she seems to move with grace; each footstep they take feels something like a dance they’re making up as they go along.

“Where are we going?” she wonders, punctuating her question with a tiny hiccup. “We’re going to tuck you in, and get you some water, and we’ll both cross our fingers and hope you’re not too hungover tomorrow”. She nods, offering him a clumsy salute and slipping from his arms.

“I'm failing you, Teddy-- that's all I do. I'm not good,” she laughs bitterly, her arms spread wide as she flops face first onto the mattress, “I'm selfish. I'm greedy. And this would all be so much easier if you could just see that”.

Ted doesn't warrant that concern with a response. He watches with a frown as she burrows into the plush duvet. “You and I are more alike than you think,” he doesn't dare to move from his spot at the door, “I ain't quite the man you think I am”.

He’s not sure what he means by that if he’s being entirely honest, but he knows it’s true in some capacity. He worries sometimes that maybe he’s spent so long bottling up his emotions, hiding too much of the real him, that even he can’t tell who he really is. How is he supposed to tell where the desire to please ends, and his own wants and needs begin? What he does know is that Rebecca makes him want to figure that out; to rediscover himself and grow into a person he’s truly proud to be.

When he moves, he moves quietly into the ensuite bathroom, dampening a face cloth to remove her makeup. He knows it's nothing close to her usual routine, and she'd be upset to have missed her 8-step cleansing and moisturising routine. But, he shoulders that disappointment knowing she'd be more distressed Waking up with her foundation still holding on, and her mascara smudged.

She's silent, just pouting as he gently wipes away her makeup; the layers of her armour melted away. Her cheeks are flushed and he tells himself it's the alcohol rushing through her system even when she tilts her head to nuzzle against his open palm.

“You're beautiful,” he tells her honestly. Not a flirtation. Just a fact. “Don't romanticize this Ted, I can't bear it,” she presses her face into a pillow hiding herself away.

Neither of them has spoken about what they mean to each other, the implications of the feelings they both know they’ve been carrying around for longer than they could ever admit or even realized themselves. They’ve been happy to linger in limbo; more than friends, but not quite lovers.

“Hey now,” he smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear when she peaks at him, “caring about the people you love doesn't have to be romantic. Even when your feelings are”. “You always know what to say,” she sighs. “You have your moments too, Becca,” he promises. She reaches out, patting the empty space in the bed next to her, a silent command more than an invitation.

She's quick to snuggle into his side, wiggling gracelessly towards him; all limbs and very little coordination. There's an innocence to it. Action driven by nothing but the desire for comfort. It's simple, but it feels heavy in its meaning. With her leg slung across his middle, and her fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt he breathes deeply. Allowing himself to settle into the relief of knowing she's safe.

“This isn’t who I am,” she whispers against his chest, “Please, don’t think of me like this”. “Then tell me, Rebecca,” he says, his voice low, and tone encouraging, his lips soft against her forehead, “who are you?”

“My hair only curls on its own in the summertime,” she says after a pregnant pause, “I prefer my wine chilled. I love pink. And I hate that I avoided the colour for so long. I love mornings. I hate cottage cheese. I'm allergic to egg whites, but I love meringues. I haven't been this drunk since I was sixteen, and since I'm being honest--I'm fucking terrified right now”. “You sound incredible, sweetheart,” he promises, “what’s got you so afraid?” “I don’t want to break this-- to break us. I always end up alone…especially when I’m, uh, this,” her words fail her but her hand makes a generalized motion towards herself.

Ted ignores the sting of disdain that rises as he thinks of Rupert’s taunts, and his disturbed attempts to control her. But more so, Ted fights back the concern itching at the back of his mind, weighing Rebecca’s comment about Sassy getting her drunk at sixteen, against the obvious fear in her eyes right now; the buzz of anxiety that’s been radiating off of her all evening. He wonders if Sassy left her alone back then too, and he can only hope that Keeley was a better friend and at least helped her get home tonight.

“You’re not alone,” He swears, and he means it with every fibre of his being. He hopes that she can feel that as he tips her chin up, making sure to meet her eye when he says, “You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere”.

He knows there’s more to say, but she deserves to hear them when she’ll remember them. For now, he’s glad to have her next to him. He’s glad that she called him, and he hopes that whatever it is he’s given her in the way of comfort is enough.

#ted lasso fanfic #ted x rebecca #tedbecca #tedbecca fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fic

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il-predestinato · 2 years

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Lando really checked to make sure his butt wasn’t on fire. 😭🔥

🎥: F1TV (FP1, 2022 Austrian Grand Prix)

#lando norris #i'm dying #sdjhfjsdf #austrian gp 2022 #f1 #laugh tag #*#fp1 #yeah ted was right... he clenched those cheeks #fave

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yuzukult · 4 years

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—saccharine

pairing: seokjin x reader word count: 2,319 prompt: seokjin doesn’t believe in love at first sight. so... what’s this feeling that’s churning in the pit of his stomach when he meets you for the first time? warnings: none. minor cursing. fluff attack. a/n: to celebrate my follower milestone! thank you all for supporting and reading my fics, it means a lot to me!

Everyday is a continuous, recurring cycle.

First, the alarm rings. Then, he slams the snooze button on his phone before resuming into a light sleep for another eight minutes. The annoying horn sings again, and a wash of regret hits from never changing it out of the default, so he finally accepts this by getting up and sliding his feet lazily into a pair of slippers by the side of his bed before making way into the bathroom.

His hair is a mess. But it’s a mess everyday. Life has gone to the point that even brushing his teeth has become a dreadful chore. Shuffling through his bin of hair products, he finds the mousse he consistently loses and finds on repeat and then slaps a boatload of it onto his head.

This is basically a day-in-the-life of Kim Seokjin. Except it’s everyday. It’s never ending. It feels like one of those time loop movies where when he ends his day, it starts back off exactly like it did yesterday.

To be fair, he can’t complain. He’s got a roof over his head, an apartment all to himself (that means without a roommate), plus a well-paying full time job. It’s hard to whine and cry about how his life seems to have no excitement, other than the occasional meeting with his friends, but contrarily… there’s not much to look forward to.

It’s the same mundane activities. Opening the cabinet above his kitchen counter as he usually does at this time, he grabs his favorite Cheerios. Good starts with happy hearts, as their commercials say, but Seokjin isn’t entirely sure that’s true.

He’s a “cereal first and milk last” kind of guy. Not that he judges those who do it backwards, but he thinks if anyone does the routine in the opposite order, they might actually be backwards. It’s a condition—he makes it seem, and it’s a rather controversial topic for the guy.

Nonetheless, he enjoys his bowl of breakfast goods. He reads the news on his phone, and when the reminder on his watch dings, Seokjin rushes to put his dishes into the sink and hauls himself down the hall, in direction to his walk-in-closet that evidently is just too big for it being only himself. It’s a constant indication that he’s alone.

By the time it’s 8:30AM, he’s dressed in his suit and tie, hair slicked back, and has a satchel slung over his shoulder in preparation of yet another day at the office.

But maybe he’d stop by that new place this morning. Change of pace. Maybe it’ll liven up his day and give him something to look forward to. Maybe he’d like it.

The place is around the corner, less than a three minute walk the moment he leaves his apartment building, and if he timed himself, it probably takes longer to leave his home and out of the building. The shop is cute; decor stickers are laid out delicately along the windows, the walls are painted a pretty blush pink, and there’s smiles on all the workers’ faces as if they enjoyed being there.

There’s a smile on your face in particular that captures his attention.

Seokjin is a relatively kind guy, or so he thinks he is. He’s never pinned over girls like those shows he’s seen on TV, but he’s had his fair share of relationships. He’s not shy, but he’s also not outgoing. He has an abundance of friends but only a few are ones he trusts.

And the girlfriends he had were great but… no one really appreciates his generosity as much as he’d like.

He thinks he’s crazy at this moment, quite frankly, because he doesn’t believe in love at first sight. It’s this theory and idea that writers of a romance genre film and story that people whipped up together to make it seem more appealing to their audiences. But he doesn’t actually think it’s true.

Or is it?

Hair up in a messy bun, there’s a swipe of flour that coats your one cheek, and a smile that dresses your face so beautifully. You’re in a simple outfit that’s a combination of a white tee and blue jeans with the shop’s apron on top, while running around to keep up with all the orders coming through. He has hearts brimming in his pupils and he can’t seem to stop the way his chest tightens the second he lays his eyes on you. Is this what love at first sight is?

Seokjin doesn’t only regret not changing the default ringtone of his alarm this morning. He also regrets not asking for your number.

When he reaches his office, he realizes he forgets to ask for cream and sugar at the bakery. The dark, warm liquid glides down his throat with some difficulty; the bitterness layering his tongue but the memory of you sparks sweetness from within. Who were you? He doesn’t even know you and you’re on his mind like crazy.

Now, Seokjin has seen How I Met Your Mother. He’s watched the nine seasons, totaling out to two-hundred and eight episodes, so needless to say, Seokjin knows what goes on in that show. And ironically, he hates Ted. The guy is a hopeless romantic that thinks every girl he has his eyes on is ‘the one.’ Seokjin refuses to become like Ted, and he would be caught dead replicating those same actions.

Then why the fuck is he caught up on a girl he’s seen once?

The second time Seokjin comes by the bakery, it’s a hell of a lot less busy. In fact, it’s only three people that man the storefront, rather than the six that he saw the first time he stopped by. He has his fingers crossed behind his back as he waits in the queue patiently, hoping you’d be the one taking his order this time around.

Luck must be on his side because you’re greeting him with those pearly white teeth. “Good morning, nice to see you. What can I get for you today?”

Abort, abort! He can’t talk. He swears that his heart has found its way up into his throat, and he can’t get any words to come out.

You blink. Those gorgeous long lashes brush your cheeks so deftly, and it swells his heart that’s now lodged in the path of his airways. “Sir?”

Seokjin swallows. “Oh—yeah, sorry sorry. Uh, can I get a medium hot coffee? Cream and sugar, please. Forgot to mention that last time and I almost died from the bitterness.” Was that an appropriate comment to make? Did it make you laugh? Or were you offended that he just insulted your workplace’s coffee

He cheers in success on the inside when a soft chuckle escapes from your lips. “Aw, I’m sorry to hear. I guess we should have also done our part and asked if you wanted any. Did you want to order anything else?”

Ah. Was the conversation already ending? But it’s so soon! He barely held the dialogue for a couple seconds, and since he’s got your attention, he can’t let go now. Quickly, his eyes skim the menu and the display case full of baked goods. “Uh, what do you recommend?” He asks, gesturing to the sweets.

You wave your hand for another coworker to take the next customer’s order. Walking over to the sweets, Seokjin trails over as well, observing your expression. You’ve got your brows furrowed, deep in thought with a quirk of the side of your lips, engrossed with the plentiful of options. “Do you like tarts?”

—

Seokjin is a regular now.

Whenever the clock strikes 7:30AM, he’s already in his work attire, hair at its best, and has checked his face in the mirror for the fiftieth time. Then, he’s on route to the corner bakery.

He wants to look good before he meets you. Handsome guy for a pretty girl. It’s only right.

The bells at the front door of the shop ring loudly the moment he enters in, and immediately his ears are filled with that beautiful laugh of yours, but you’re not alone. It’s accompanied by someone else’s, a voice that doesn’t match any of your other coworkers and his jaw clenches at the thought. Who is this male that claims to be the purpose of your giggling with a mop he calls hair on the top of his head?

“Oh!” You beam, lifting up the cup of hot coffee in hand. “Seokjin! Come here, I have a new pastry for you to try, and your daily caffeinated beverage to pair it with. Plus, I want you to meet my friend.”

His name is Taehyung. The freaking guy looks like a model, strutting into the café like it’s his runway, and when his gaze meets Seokjin’s, it makes Seokjin feel small.

Seokjin likes you, if the amount of times he comes in a week is evidence for it. He doesn’t just do that either; he often stirs up a conversation, asks how your day is going so far, and even goes out of his way to remember small details so he can bring it up next time. But he can’t help but wonder—do you have a boyfriend? Are you being kind only because Seokjin is a customer? Or are you normally this sweet as those raspberry filled pastries you set him up with?

And those questions are only emphasized when Taehyung smiles, extends his hands and offers Seokjin a firm shake. “I’m Taehyung.”

Seokjin’s entire work day has gone to shit. All he could think about was who Taehyung was and why you were so adamant about Seokjin meeting him.

After taking the last bite of the delicious pastry you packed for him (free of charge, too), it hits him.

If Seokjin liked you, he should just confess his feelings, no matter what the consequences. Instead of sitting here with his shoulders slouched, eating this treat you gave him with a pout upon his lips, he shouldn’t continue waiting around and feeling sorry for himself anymore. Why would he make himself suffer like this when there’s a way to end this vicious cycle?

Seokjin concludes that he’s going to confess tonight.

—

What Seokjin learns about you is that you are by far not close to his ideal dream girl.

You’re the “milk first, cereal last” gal, and he believes you’re ass backwards. You like consistency, and your favorite ringtone is the sound of those stupid horns he has for alarms in the morning. You enjoy the first few hours of your day, basking in the routine that you’ve put together yourself, including the one that had recently involved seeing Seokjin’s face.

And although you’re not his dream girl, you’ve become it.

“I like you,” He finally confesses, a bouquet of flowers in his hands that match the decor stickers plastered on the shop's windows. “Would you… go out with me?”

Seokjin isn’t here in the mornings like he normally is, opting that since this is definitely a change of pace, he might as well go all out. Maybe this will be different. Maybe he’ll be happier.

Stunned, your mouth drops open. You’re stuttering over your own words, practically malfunctioning like a machine. “Wha—Like—what? Like… you like me as in like… a woman? More than a friend? You want to take me out?”

“Uh,” Seokjin scratches behind his ear anxiously. Was his plan backfiring? “Yes? I… like you. As in, I come here in the mornings for coffee, yeah, but I mostly came to see you. I enjoy hearing your laugh, seeing your smiles, and listening to you talk about these pastries like they’re your world and I—“ He pauses, inhaling a sharp breath, “—then you introduced me to this really good looking guy named Taehyung and I didn’t know what my chances were with you anymore, so here I am. Confessing.”

You’re silent. Truthfully, Seokjin’s not feeling good about this. His palms are sweaty, his heart is racing, and you still haven’t said a word and he’s sure that over thirty seconds have already passed by.

“What—“ You start again, quickly stopping yourself with a shake of your head. “Thank god, really.”

The front of Seokjin’s brows dip in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

You laugh, combing your fingers through your loosened locks. “I’ve been trying to tell my coworkers that I had this stupid crush on you since you first came in. You’re such a great listener, you’re handsome, and fun to talk to. They think you’re too good to be true, so they thought you wanted to be my gay best friend. Hence… the Taehyung test.”

“The Taehyung test?” Seokjin reiterates.

Chewing on your bottom lip, your eyes are swirls of apologies. “He’s cute, right? Either you’d get jealous that a guy like him has my attention and you like me, or you like him and you’re jealous that he’s making me laugh instead of you.”

Seokjin’s shoulders drop in relief. “So… does that mean you’ll go out with me?”

You smile softly. “Of course, Jin.”

He doesn’t think those mundane activities he identified before are boring anymore. No, not with you, they’re not. He doesn’t mind watching you pour milk instead of cereal first in the mornings because he’s glad he gets to be the one who pinches your side teasingly and call you a weirdo. He doesn’t hate the sound of the horns—okay, a lie, he hates it so much, but they’re bearable when you’re around since you don’t hesitate to shut it off the minute it rings, and immediately hop out the bed, without using the snooze button. Brushing his teeth is a delight, especially when he sees your toothbrush sitting in your own designated cup on your side of the sink.

Everyday is a continuous, recurring cycle.

But Seokjin doesn’t mind those things if it’s done with you.

#seokjin #seokjin x reader #bts #bts fanfic #jin x reader #jin fanfic #gyukultfics #jin

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whump-town · 4 years

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It’s A Wonderful Life

Part Two

I don’t know how I feel about this chapter but I’m putting it up and dealing with it later. I need to go study for my sociology test and get some coffee-- so, now it’s your problem

Warning: tw for suicide, major character death (IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK AT ALL)

Part One here

“Aaron!”

He’s flat on his back, a rickety old ceiling fan wobbling above him. The base sways back and forth as the blades turn. That has to be a hazard...

Two cold hands press to his cheeks, blonde strands of hair falling into his face. “Aaron,” his name comes out more urgently from her mouth. Those cold fingers tapping at his cheek, trying to rouse some sort of reaction out of him. He can’t. Can’t think of what to say. He just looks up at her. Haley. “Baby--”

He coughs, weakly craning his neck as the pain of his fall registers throughout the rest of his body. “Ah!” rolling onto his side, pulling his knees up, he groans at the sharp stabs of pain up his back. He clenches his jaw, a moment of sheer panic blinding him as he fails to recover from the feeling of having the wind knocked out of him. Unable to draw air into his shocked lungs.

Haley leans over him, moving to compensate for his pained struggle. Her fingers probe along the back of his head wincing in sympathy when she finds blood and he whimpers, weakly pulling from her touch. “What were you doing?” she asks, smoothing down the hair on the back of his neck. Trying to offer some comfort.

He can’t remember anything before the fan.

“Maybe--” she smiles down at him but he can see she’s just trying to look assured. His head is turned into her palm, Aaron having slowly curled into her. Trying to compress himself, needing to feel that she’s really here. “Maybe you should go to the hospital? You’re bleeding--”

He aims to shake his head but ends up grunting, blinded by the pain that mistake shoots up the base of his neck. “No,” he whispers, trembling hand coming up to blindly touch her. She catches his hand, folding his fingers within her own and pressing them down. Holding him still. “No,” he manages, a little more assured. “I’m--I’m okay.”

Blinking, a cold sweat breaking out across his face he shifts a numb arm underneath him. Biting down to keep himself from making a sound as he eases him up. Attempting to sit up quickly dispels what he thought was a fact for fiction. His eyes roll back, white cold pain eating up his skin.

“Aaron,” she calls frantically.

The color of his naturally pale cheeks drains and sways for a moment, the color drained from his body. “I’m-- I’m--” he squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his breathing to calm. He’s taken far worse hits than this. This is nothing. Fingernails digging sharp pain into his palms is grounding and slowly he opens his eyes and the living doesn’t spin. Everything is still, if not hazy.

“I’m okay,” he breathes.

I’m okay.

smoke burns his nose, his vision too poor to see past the steering wheel, past the spiderwebbed glass right in front of him

crying, strained screaming-- he can’t tell where the sound is coming from

his chest aches, stomach twisting with each pitched, nearly choked inhale of--

Jack.

Jack is screaming, little feet kicking hard and solidly as his chair

he has to get to--

“Aaron?”

He’s looking down at the carpet, confused but… It’s gone. The vision, his vision, is swimming dangerously and he weakly manages to place a hand on the carpet beneath him. Leaning onto it, as he tries to ground himself. “Sorry,” he rasps, swallowing down the fear that itches at the back of his throat. “Sorry, I just…” he went somewhere else. He’s not sure what happened but something feels incredibly wrong about this, about here.

Haley’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades, gently rubbing. “Let me make you some tea,” she offers.

Tea. No one can make tea like Haley. “Yeah,” he agrees. Just thinking about it calms him. “Please?”

She nods, pressing a kiss to his temple. As she steps around him she pulls a blanket off the couch, settling it over his shoulders. “Stay here,” she asks, brushing the back of her hand across his cheek. “I don’t want you to fall again.” He can feel her hesitancy, she doesn’t want to leave him by himself.

He doesn’t get up, he’s not even sure his legs will hold him, but he does manage to scoot himself across the carpet until he can lean against the couch behind him. The cushions are old, they give easily against him but he loves this old couch. Haley’s parents had given it to them when they moved away. It had been his bed many a night in their tiny hometown. This old couch has cured many of his ailments.

It sat in the spare room of Haley’s childhood home. An off to the side, usually shut room full of old but loved things from Haley and Jessica’s childhood. Including the beat-to-hell sofa her parents didn’t have the heart to throw out-- plus they’re southern and the couch wasn’t falling apart so it still had a use.

Every night he crawled home to them, he’d find himself lovingly tucked in on it.

He finds himself nodding off, head leaning into the sunken cushions. The whistle of the kettle startling him slightly. It makes his pulse jump, vision swimming. “Haley?”

sirens

a hand, padded by thick gloves wrap around the base of his neck

“easy, just hold still. you’re okay”

he glances as far as he can to his left, out the door to asphalt

he can see Jack, his happy little hands, rocking back and forth on his feet

“J…” his tongue heavy, body sinking

“stay with me”

“Aaron?” Haley’s squatting down over him, her cold hands cupping his head. “Baby, you’re scaring me.”

He’s scaring himself.

She slides down next to him, throwing her legs over his so she can sit close. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the hospital?” Pulling the edges of the blanket back around him, she frowns when he leans against her. Tiredly just deflating until he’s limply laying with his head under her chin.

“I’m okay,” he whispers. His head is really starting to hurt. “I just… I think I need to lay down.”

Haley looks unconvinced but caves, nodding her. “Please let me help you?”

He’s not sure he can do it otherwise.

His feet drag on the carpet, nearly unable to lift them to move properly. There’s this chill he can’t fight, leaving him shaking as Haley holds them welded together. The bed, impossibly soft, as he sinks down is cold with their absence. He goes limply down, not fighting Haley as she tucks the thick comforter around him.

She crawls in after him.

He finally relaxes. The comfort of familiarity soothing his nerves. Haley’s arm over his chest, head on his shoulder is just as things should be. Closing his eyes, he lets sleep consume him. He needs it so badly. He can’t get warm, squirming, and trying to curl into himself to get some sort of warmth. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t rest.

He turns over searching the nightstand for a clock but there are none. He frowns, sitting up. Tossing the blanket off his legs he gets up. Unable to see the time, he needs to go figure it out. He has to make oatmeal, get the day going. His every day revolves around a strictly held schedule. A maybe concussion doesn’t warrant straying from that.

“What are you doing?”

“I was looking for--” Jack. Aaron realizes where he is. He feels sick. There is no Jack. Not yet. This fantasy of his has no Jack. He swallows thickly and turns back around, shaking his head. He goes back to the bed. “Most have been dreaming,” he whispers, fighting to keep his emotions from getting the best of him.

He can’t remember having Jack. This boy, a whole child that he can visualize, is nothing more than a concept. They have no children.

He can’t sleep after that.

-----

“Let’s got out.”

He wakes, startles, alone in bed. Painful goosebumps have raised over his skin, shivering he squints up at her. She’s in the same clothes as yesterday, a fast that strikes him as odd. He can’t remember her changing her clothes yesterday either before they’d gone to bed. Yet, her hair is clean and swept back into a low ponytail. She looks happy.

“Out?” he asks. Sitting up, he self-consciously runs his hand through his hair. Taming what he knows is a rat’s nest. “Out-- Out where?” He tries so hard to rub the sleep from his eyes, aware of the fact that he’s gotten just enough sleep to wear him down more. Pulling himself out from under the sheets he glares down at his own body, he’s dressed too. They’d gone to bed in their clothes…

She sits down on the edge with him, taking his left hand. “For coffee,” she says with a smile. “You know that little bookshop just downtown? They put in a coffee bar! It’ll be fun. Come on, we can get a coffee and search the shelves. I know you finished the last one you got.” She smiles assuredly, rubbing at his arm but she’s so cold that she does nothing to abate his shivering.

“Coffee,” he repeats. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, coffee sounds good.”

His stomach aches as they go. Twisted and acidic, he feels like he’s going to be sick but it’s not nausea. Disenfranchisement. Like he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“The normal?” Haley asks as they step into the shop. He nods, regardless of not being able to conjure up what his “normal” is. She lets go of his hand and he drifts, ghosting across the old, dust-caked carpet. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he’s just guided by the undertoned scent of the old books.

The crime section-- novels covered in deeps seas of black highlighted to catch the eye with the harrowing shifts to crimson-- is where he finds himself. Deja vu. Ted Bundy. Ed Gein. He knows these men far more intimately than he feels the novels he briefly skims through do. He slides one of the books back, grimacing at the tone. The baroque, vulgarity of it unsettling him. Some people just don’t have any business dealing with sensitive things like this.

He hovers over a copy of a book--

FBI Novelist David Rossi

The words are crimson, meant to catch your eyes.

He looks over his shoulder, stomach twisting like he’s afraid to be caught doing something he’d convinced maybe he shouldn’t be doing. He opens the first page, swallowing thickly at the dedication. To the footnote for the author Agent Rossi and his untimely demise--

Haley appears to his left, smiling when she sees him. “Whatcha got?”

He takes the coffee she offers out to him-- he glares at the cup but doesn’t comment. He can’t feel the warmth that should be pouring out of it. “Uhm…” he shows her the back. To the picture of the agent, unsure of how to ask what’s on his mind. Hotch turns the book over in his hand, an immense pressure building in his chest. Anxiety making him jittery. “I-- I thought… I thought he was--” he looks to Haley, mouth parted as he fails to draw these connections that he knows, intuitively, that he should have the knowledge to understand.

Haley turns the book, manipulating his hold to face the book to her so she can really see what it is that he’d got. “Oh God,” she whispers, sadly. “Don’t you remember that bombing?” She shakes her head, “it killed all those agents. You were furious, I’m surprised you don’t remember.”

But, suddenly, he does. It’s such a graphic memory that it feels more like… it feels fake with its intensity. He knows, though. His face hot, knees anxiously drumming as he sat precariously on the edge of the couch. Watching on hesitant, nervous breathes as the news spread steady, if not a bit misleading information on a bombing. He’d seen them. Sat there all day watching them add people’s names to a growing list of the dead.

“It’s written by that David Rossi guy,” Haley says. “You’d probably like it.”

He nods, dejectedly opening the cover. The book is dedicated to Rossi, a small note thanking him for his service to the country and his insights with the FBI. He thumbs through it a little more, nearly morbidly curious for what he might find. Scanning the words, waiting for something to strike him.

He nearly drops it, unable to breathe as he takes in something he can’t imagine.

In the months after the bombing, I reached out to the remaining members of the elite Behavior Analysis Unit (Behavioral Science when I founded it some nearly thirty years earlier with my now deceased ex-partner Jason Gideon). Derek Morgan, now the only profiler left of Jason’s team, was hesitant to continue any prolonged contact with me. I suspected his reliance having to do with the perseverance of Jason’s memory. After Agent Spencer Reid’s suicide, only a matter of weeks after the bombing, any contact I had with Agent Morgan ended. The Bureau has no comment on what lead the young genius to suicide.

“Oh,” Haley whispers sadly. “That’s so sad.”

He can’t breathe.

“Do you think he had PTSD?”

He roughly pushes the book back where he found it. His left hand coming to rub at his head.

“Aaron?”

That’s not how that ends. That’s not how any of that happened.

The day that Jason Gideon made that call in Boston Aaron been standing right beside him. Reid had been sent back to a local precinct with busywork to calm down. He was a new recruit and, rightfully, had no business even being in the field with them let alone in a situation like that. It had been him, his decision to pull Reid.

He remembers the feeling of the heat hitting his body.

The shrapnel wounds impeding his ability to stand so he’d dragged himself ten feet to safety where he’d passed out. Having no memory of what happened a week later and years after the fact he still can’t actually tell you what happened other than to repeat back what he’s been told.

“Let’s go home,” Haley slips her hand into his.

He nods, eyes unfocused as he follows blankly where she guides him. Chest tight, hands trembling weakly he realizes this must be some fucked joke. Revenge? A test? He’s done. He doesn’t want to play this game anymore. It’s tantalizing and demeaning and so overwhelming. Is this within his control and if it is can he stop?

He wants to stay here with Haley.

“What--What about--” he’s worked himself into such a state that he’s shaking. Unable to speak properly as finds himself desperately asking, “what about kids?”

Haley winces, shaking her head. “No,” she says. “I don’t think I can do it. I don’t want any.”

No Jack.

“I think,” his voice is rasped whisper. “I think I need to lie down.”

Haley’s face falls, “ok. I’ll come with you.”

She holds his hand, whispering soft questions but he’s… gone. Hardly there at all, unable to even focus on the worried tone of her words. Asking if his head hurts or if he’d like some tea or something to eat. He just needs to lay down and eventually, she gives up and lets him.

Somberly, she lays down beside him. The bed sinks with her weight but she already feels too far away.

He can feel the weight of his chest deepening, each inhales a little shorter. “Haley,” he calls, hand searching blindly across their bedsheet for her. He finds her, skin chilled, but there. “I’m sorry.” Though she curls around him, wrapping an arm up around his back and pressing their hips close-- her contact does not abate his shivering. She can not comfort him.

“You have nothing to apologize for, darling.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #haley hotchner #tw suicide

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seriously-smitten · 4 years

Text

When did you know

“Daddy?”

“Hm?”

“When did you know you loved Mummy?”

Remus looked up from the Daily Prophet and down to the seven years old boy at his side. Twinkling blue eyes watched him patiently, filled to the brim with the typical curiosity of a child. He gave an overly thoughtful hum and Teddy rocked on his heels in anticipation for his answer.

“That’s a hard question Ted,” Remus admitted.

Teddy deflated instantly, hair darkening to a stormy day gray and bottom lip slipping into a pout. Remus fought back a chuckle at his son’s dramatic response and lifted the boy onto his lap. He poked Teddy gently against his nose and he giggled, hair turning back to his favorite vibrant turquoise.

“Why are you asking, hm?” Remus asked rubbing a thumb under Teddy’s eye, across the dapple of freckles. He observed the smudge of yellow paint he had wiped off and Teddy’s cheeks turned pink.

Remus raised an eyebrow and Teddy wiggled free off of his father’s lap. Tonks was walking into the kitchen and he watched him maneuver quickly around his mother who stumbled. She shouted at the flash of blue hair zipping by her legs.

“Edward Remus Lupin what did I say about running in the house?!” Dora yelled.

The resounding slam of a door upstairs was her reply and she huffed, readjusting the laundry basket on her hip. Remus chuckled and cleared a spot for her to place the basket on the table.

“I swear he’s starting to listen to us less and less every day,” Dora sighed folding the laundry.

“I still think he’s the best behaved amongst the children,” Remus said with a proud tone as he helped his wife fold clothing.

She smiled at a pair of small trousers pulled from the pile and her nose wrinkled, “He is the oldest, but I don’t know though, Victoire is fairly mature as well.”

Remus’ head perked up and raised his eyebrows. Dora looked at him like he had sprouted a second head, “Sweetheart?”

Remus smiled to himself then, shaking his head and waving his hand.

“Nothing, love. Nothing at all.”

- 6 years later -

Remus knocked on the door in front of him a second time and waited. It swung inward as he went to knock for the third, and Teddy greeted him. Pounding music, concealed by a silencing charm to his bedroom now spilt into the hallway. Remus flicked his wand and the familiar lyrics of one of Dora’s old Weird Sisters Christmas edition albums cut off. Teddy frowned for a moment but shrugged and stepped back into his room.

“What’s up Da? Could you hear the music? Coulda sworn Mum reinforced the charm the other day,” Teddy said.

Remus looked about the room, always intrigued by some new drawing or painting Teddy hung about. The blue walls could barely be seen and he eyed the stack of sketch books leaning precariously in the corner. Teddy’s school trunk sat open at the foot of his bed, still packed for when he returned after holiday.

Teddy plopped back down into the chair at his desk. He ruffled his hair and Remus sat down on the bed across from him. His bones ached in protest and he sighed rubbing at his wrist. Teddy frowned at him but Remus waved his hand, “You know I’m fine. Your mother’s clumsiness has just rubbed off on me. Sprained my wrist is all.”

Teddy nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced. Remus looked up towards the ceiling where the drawings started to encroach. There was this beautiful circle of papers magically attached to one another above Teddy’s bed. Each picture had a moon phase and a family of three wolves that moved from one page to the next in the moon cycle. Now the family of wolves was sitting looking up at a freshly waning moon. It was a wonderful little enchantment thought of and drawn by Teddy and charmed by Dora and Sirius.

“Da? Everything alright?” Teddy asked.

Remus looked back at Teddy and felt the clenching in this chest that had begun recently. He looked so grown up now and he wished time would just stand still, just for a little bit. Now, at thirteen years old, he was taller than Dora and an inch or two away from Remus’ nose. It seemed only yesterday that his little boy was still crashing into his shins and tugging at the ends of his robes.

“Your Mum and I invited some guests for Christmas Eve dinner. I expect James, Albus and Fred will want to bunk with you,” Remus said.

“Oh everyone’s coming? Brilliant!” Teddy grinned.

“Yes - including Bill and Fleur...”

Teddy’s grin vanished and instead of blushing, Remus watched Teddy’s hair turn to the same pink his mother’s did.

“Oh so L-Louis will be coming...”

Remus nodded.

“A-and Dominque?”

Remus nodded again and Teddy swallowed.

“Victoire too?”

“I do believe that if Bill and Fleur are coming then their children will also be,” Remus grinned.

“Right. Yes. Wonderful. I, um, I have to start tidying up then I suppose!” Teddy announced standing and pulling at his pink hair which he failed to notice had changed.

Remus reached out grabbing Teddy’s wrist and he looked over to his father who nodded to the spot next to him on the bed. Teddy sat beside him and Remus interlaced their fingers, staring down at their hands.

“I remember one time you asked me when I knew that I loved you mother.”

Teddy looked up at him with those same curious blue eyes framed by freckles. Remus squeezed his hand and shrugged.

“I never really thought about it. There was never a moment that I could pinpoint. I fell in love with your mum without ever realizing I had. Loving your mother is as easy as breathing to me,” Remus said with a fond smile at the wedding band catching the morning sunlight.

Teddy, yet having his question answered, seemed even more disappointed. Remus watched his face fall and his shoulders sag. Hair fading to that melancholy gray. Remus looked at him sadly as he leaned against his arm, head cushioned on his shoulder and grip tightening on his hand.

“But I thought you had doubts...”

Remus felt a twist in his gut and his knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on his son’s hand. Remembering the awful ordeal of being honest with Teddy about their past. Watching hurt flicker across his eyes and knowing that for a moment there had been doubt about Remus’ love for him. He shook his head a little to try and clear his mind of those thoughts, “I never once wavered in my love for your mother or for you. I made wrong and foolish decisions thinking they were the right ones. You are both my greatest loves. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He kissed the top of Teddy’s head as his son nodded.

“I think - no, I know I fancy Vic. I just don’t know if I love her,” Teddy sighed.

Remus laughed pulling his hand away and instead wrapping his arm around Teddy‘s shoulders, “Edward-“

His nose scrunched in displeasure, “Dad!”

Remus ignored him and carried on, “You are thirteen years old. You don’t have to decide what you’re having for supper tomorrow, let alone decide if you’re in love with Victoire Weasley. Understand?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Teddy’s lip and he nodded, “Yeah, guess you’re right. Thanks da.”

“Of course. Although I must say she is very pretty and very sweet so do try not mess things up.”

“Da! Pressure!”

Remus barked with vicious laughter as Teddy’s hair turned bright pink again and he shoved his face into his hands. Remus ruffled the hair on the back of his head and Teddy swatted at him. The older wizard stood and gave his son’s room another look around while Ted grumbled on the bed. His eyes settled on one drawing stuck about waist size next to Teddy’s desk.

It was nothing compared to the other drawings he produced now, after years of practice. However, what made it stand out was the girl in the drawing, who was holding hands with a blue haired boy, and had bright yellow hair.

Remus’s eyes crinkled warmly. Teddy finished his muttering and was focusing on his now purple hair, trying to get it back to his favorite shade. Nose scrunched up, and lips pouted in concentration, all Remus saw was Nymphadora in his boy.

He gave Teddy’s shoulder a squeeze and turned to go. He stumbled forward for a moment as Teddy collided into his back and wrapped his arms around him. He could feel his nose poking between his shoulder blades as Teddy spoke, “I love you Da.”

“Love you too, son.”

#remadora #ronks #edward remus lupin #teddy lupin #hp fanfic #remadora fanfiction #tedoire #victoire weasley

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whump-tr0pes · 4 years

Text

Honor Bound 4 - 20

Honor Bound 4 - 20 (”I Know You’re in There Somewhere” Fight) - @badthingshappenbingo

Requested by @grizzlie70

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3.

AO3

Cw: Y’all, this is one really, really rough. We’ve got family members lashing out while fully dissoci@ted, so please be safe. Full list here: flashbacks, dissoci@tion, PTSD reaction, conditioning, misgendering (in a conditioned state), death discussion, mention of stitches/wounds, abusive language between family members (as part of dissoci@tion), narcotics mention, attempted gaslighting (while dissoci@ting)

The sky was streaked with brilliant pinks and oranges as the sun set over the lake. The trip to Crayton had taken all day: three hours there, two hours of shopping, three hours back. As Gray pulled up in front of the house, the front door opened. Finn and Isaac walked out.

Vera immediately tensed, icy panic sweeping through her. “What… they…”

“They would’ve contacted us if it was something really bad,” Gray said evenly, using the same tone of voice they had with Edrissa when she slid back into herself. Speaking like Vera was an injured animal. For a moment, it made Vera’s hackles raise.

Edrissa stared out the window, her hand already on the door handle as Gray pulled into the space for the car. “Wh-what if it’s Sam?” she whispered. “What if it’s, it’s Sam, what if they—”

“Hey,” Gray said as they put their car in park and turned it off. “Let’s—”

Vera and Edrissa both barreled out of the car and rushed to Finn and Isaac.

“What happened?” Vera demanded.

“Is it Sam?” Edrissa whimpered at the same time.

Finn held their hands out. They were shaking. Their eyes darted between Edrissa and Vera. They finally rested on Vera. Bitter fear clutched at her chest.

“Tori had a flashback,” Finn said quietly, and swallowed hard.

Vera’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh. I thought—”

“I mean…” Finn wet their lips nervously. “She’s still in one. And it’s bad.”

Vera pushed past Finn and Isaac. “Why didn’t you—” She cut herself off. It would have been useless if they had texted them on the phone they’d taken with them. What was she going to do, drive three hours to help Tori with a flashback the others could probably handle on their own?

Clearly they can’t handle it.

Don’t be a fucking asshole.

She pulled the door open and found Tori on a couch in the living room, trembling, her eyes wide, her chest heaving with sobs. Ellis sat beside her, their arms wrapped firmly around her. Almost as if they were holding her back from something.

Vera rushed to Tori and dropped onto the couch at her other side. Her hands shot out to hold her, then jerked back. “Tori,” she gasped. “Babe. Can I touch you?”

Tori turned her head towards Vera, her eyes looking right past her, unseeing. Seeing something else, somewhere else, entirely. Vera was sure of it. She looked past Tori to Ellis.

“Has she said—”

“Nothing,” Ellis whimpered. “She’s said nothing. I can’t get her to talk at all. I don’t know… I don’t know…”

“What set it off?” Vera murmured, forcing down the tears that burned in her eyes. “Why… what…?”

“She heard Sam screaming,” Finn whispered.

“What?” Vera looked up at Isaac as he stood in the doorway, frozen with horror. “Sam… screaming? Why didn’t you—” He looked towards the hall to the bedrooms and took a shaky step. Edrissa followed right behind, her hands pressed to her mouth, closer to Isaac than Vera thought she had ever been.

“Don’t,” Finn hissed, and stepped in front of Isaac. Edrissa lurched to a stop and fell back a step. “They’re sleeping. They’re sleeping for the first, first fucking time in, in weeks. Don’t wake them up.”

Isaac’s hands clenched into fists and he drew himself taller as he glared down at Finn. His body was lined with tension. Vera’s stomach lurched as she recognized the look in Isaac’s eyes: mission mode.

Finn grimaced and squared up with Isaac, shorter but so packed with a sort of exhausted desperation that they met his intensity. Edrissa’s eyes flicked between them where she stood, shivering and silent.

“I had to clean their wound,” Finn said raggedly. “It hurt. It’s getting infected. Then I gave them an extra morphine and now they’re sleeping. For the first time in—” Finn bit their lip, a flush creeping over their face. “You were out walking the lake with Gavin, so I didn’t feel the need to come, come get you and tell you that… So don’t… don’t wake them up, please…”

Tori shivered in Ellis’s arms. Vera leaned closer, her gaze still fixed on Isaac and Finn.

Isaac stared Finn down for a long moment, trembling with tension. Gray moved to his side and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Isaac…”

Isaac blinked and looked up at Gray. His shoulders slumped. “G-Gray, I…”

“It’s alright. Breathe. You’re safe.” That same low, even voice.

We’re all torn to pieces, and Gray feels like they have to put every single one of us back together. Vera swallowed despair mixed with bitter shame.

Isaac’s gaze flicked back to Finn. “Finn… I… I’m s-sorry…” He opened his hands and took a quavering breath.

Finn stepped back and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “It’s okay. Just… please, they just need—”

“I know,” Isaac said, dipping his head. Shame lined his face.

“Where is Gavin right now?” Vera said. “He—”

Tori flinched and whimpered softly. Vera’s gaze snapped to her and she closed her mouth with a click. She just wanted to hold Tori, just wanted to hold her, but… god, if her touch made Tori beg not to be hurt… Vera shuddered and blinked back her tears.

“He left,” Finn said, gentleness returning to their tone. “Maybe to walk again, I don’t know. He’s nearby. This—” Finn glanced towards Tori. “—wasn’t his fault, but he didn’t want to make it, um, worse,” Finn said miserably.

Isaac took a step around Finn, towards the back of the house. He paused and turned back towards Vera. “Vera, do you— I wanted to wait until you got home before I went to check on him, but…”

“I can handle this,” she said, her voice shaking. “Go.”

Isaac stood frozen for a moment, his weight shifting towards the kitchen, but his eyes fixed on Tori. “Are you…?”

“Yeah,” Vera said, and jerked her chin towards the back of the house. “Go. He’d appreciate your company.”

Isaac flushed a painful-looking red. He wet his lips, nodded, and walked through the kitchen to the back of the house.

Edrissa stood frozen, looking down the hall to the bedrooms. Finally, she shot a glance at Finn. “I’m not going to wake them up,” she mumbled. “Just going to… to my room.” She disappeared down the hall before anyone could say anything.

Vera turned back to Tori, her gut twisting at the look of terror on her face. She sat huddled in Ellis’s embrace, her hands clenched into fists and her arms pulled against her chest, as if bracing for something.

Bracing for a shock.

Vera pressed her lips into a hard line to keep them from trembling. “Tori—”

The black cat trotted out from the hall. Edrissa was right on his heels.

“I didn’t wake them up,” she gasped, shivering, holding her hands out in front of her like she was pleading. “The cat was in their room and meowing so, so I let him out, but I didn’t wake them up, they’re still sleeping…” She turned and dashed down the hall. Vera heard a muffled thump as her door closed.

For a moment, Vera felt crushed under a landslide. There wasn’t a one of them that hadn’t been shattered, broken so deep they’d never recover. There wasn’t a one of them who wasn’t exhausted, terrified, always one wrong word away from disappearing into themselves. She felt the drag of it, sucking at her limbs like she was trying to climb out of a bottomless pit of mud. Just disappear. Just disappear. You know that nothingness is waiting for you, it always is…

Vera shuddered and clenched her jaw so hard her head throbbed.

No. Not again. Not now.

She forced herself to meet Ellis’s eyes. “Did you try… her… her r-rules?” The word scraped her throat raw like she’d swallowed a knife.

Ellis bit down hard on their lip and vigorously shook their head. “N-no,” they murmured. “No. I don’t… I don’t like that… I didn’t want to, to say it…”

“That’s okay,” Vera said, her voice dragging with bone-deep exhaustion. “That’s okay.” She moved closer to Tori, close enough that Tori leaned against her side. “Tori,” she said, feeling like she was spitting out poison, “You can speak.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Tori gasped, sounding… relieved.

Vera wished she could tear those words right out of her brain.

I’ve made her hear me say these things for… for almost a year. I can take this for her.

“Tori, where are you—”

Tori’s gaze flicked to Vera’s, desperate and wild. “W-we need to kill Gavin,” she rasped.

Vera’s head dropped forward. Her face screwed up in pain. “Tori—”

“He’s not here,” she whispered, and clutched at Vera’s hands. “He’s not here. We have to, to make a plan. We have to get out, have to kill Gavin.”

Vera’s eyes smarted. She glanced at Gray across the room, standing with their arm wrapped around Finn’s shoulders. Finn stared at Tori, wringing their hands, tears running down their cheeks.

She turned back to look at Tori. “No, babe,” she murmured. “We’re safe. We’re out. You remember getting out? You remember making it north?”

Tori’s eyes shone with a fevered light. “No,” she said, licking her lips and shaking her head. “No. He… he was hurting Sam. He made them, them scream. He was hurting Sam, I heard it, I heard it, and you can’t…” She heaved a sob and cringed back, into Ellis. “You can’t… tell me it didn’t happen, I heard it, please, Vera, I’m not crazy, please don’t tell me that…” She whimpered and burst into tears, wrapping her arms around herself, rocking forward with each sob.

Vera lurched forward and gathered Tori into her arms. She pressed a kiss to Tori’s hair, focusing on the curls against her lips, on Tori’s smell, sour with fear, and tried so, so hard not to hear the hitched sobs, the gasps, as Tori trembled in her arms.

“That happened, Tori,” Vera said gently. “Sam was screaming. You didn’t imagine it. But it wasn’t Gavin. It was…” Vera shot a glance at Finn. Finn cringed away from her gaze, turning against Gray’s chest. “Sam’s wound opened. It hurt them. Gavin didn’t lay a hand on them. Gavin wasn’t even here. But Sam’s sleeping now, babe. Sam’s safe. We’re all safe.”

Tori trembled and raised her gaze to Finn. Her eyes flashed, and her lips pulled back over her teeth as she snarled at Finn. “Then why didn’t you… why didn’t you help them?”

Finn squeezed their eyes shut and covered their face in their hands. “I did,” they whimpered. “I, I did, Tori. I cleaned them up and fixed them and gave them more morphine. They’re sleeping. I did my best, I, I did my best…” They raised their head and fixed Tori with a glare. “I did my best.”

“Why does everyone keep hurting Sam?” Tori wailed. “They didn’t, didn’t do anything, but they keep screaming and hurting and no one helps them and…” She turned to Vera, desperation making her eyes wide as they darted between Vera’s. “Why won’t you let me kill Gavin?” she whispered. “Or, or you do it, or, so Sam stops hurting? Why won’t you, I mean, he might let me do it, he, you’ve seen how he is, why, Vera, why, why…?” Tori lurched forward, clutching her chest. “You won’t… nobody will… why won’t someone help Sam, they were screaming, and I, I don’t… Vera, please…”

“Okay,” Vera murmured, and wrapped her arms around Tori, squeezing tight. “That’s enough. Come on, Tori, breathe with me. I’m getting you out.”

“I am out!” Tori shrieked, and shoved Vera away. “I’m out, and, and Gavin hasn’t paid for what he did, and you—” Her hand shot out to point an accusing finger at Finn. “—you won’t help them, and they were… were screaming, and I can’t… no…”

“Tori stop,” Vera snapped, and grabbed her shoulders. “Stop. This isn’t… this isn’t you. Please, just…” Vera couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. One escaped down her cheek, then another. “…stop. Come back to me. Please.”

“This is me,” Tori spat through her teeth. “This is me. Gavin hurt me, hurt Sam, and this is me. Are you you?”

Vera leaned back, paling. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Tori snarled at her. “Are you conditioned? Did Gavin make you think he’s good? Has he… brainwashed you, too? You think he’s brainwashed me.”

“Tori…” Vera’s breaths came faster. “Tori, no…” A chill poured down her spine. “Please…”

“You won’t kill Gavin,” Tori growled, her face twisting in rage and hate. Vera’s stomach dropped, and she was falling through space. She knew what Tori was going to say the moment before she did. “He brainwashed you, just like Joseph.”

Vera shot to her feet, her chest heaving with a furious sob. “Tori—”

“Vera, come here,” Gray said, their voice sharp and carrying the tone of an order. “Now. Don’t engage. Step away.”

Vera turned her furious gaze on Gray. Her world was crumbling. Everything she and Tori had was blown apart by the words that had just come out of Tori’s mouth. She felt sick. She felt destroyed.

“Vera,” Gray snapped. “Now.”

Tears of rage burned on Vera’s cheeks. “Why are you telling me what to do,” she sobbed. “When she just said—”

“Because I don’t want you to say anything you’ll regret. She’s under right now. You’re not. You can leave. I’ll stay here and help her. You go with Finn. Walk this off. You know she doesn’t mean this.”

Vera looked down at Tori on the couch. Tori glared up at her, her eyes streaming and tight with rage. Vera’s chest ached like she’d been punched – like she’d been shot. The one person she wanted to turn to for comfort right now, the one person, was Tori. She wanted Tori to pull her into her arms and kiss her and comfort her and tell her everything was going to be alright…

I don’t know if she’ll ever want me to do that again.

Grief crushed her and Vera heaved a sob.

Finn appeared at her shoulder and she jumped. “Come on,” they said, their voice twisting. “Let’s go outside. Gray and Ellis can handle this.”

Vera shoved her fist against her mouth and forced down the desperate wail that was climbing up her throat. “Okay,” she gasped, and threw a look back at Tori as Finn guided her towards the kitchen. “Okay.”

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @justplainwhump��, @moose-teeth, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @insanitywishes, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @inaridriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump

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inkrabbit · 4 years

Text

The Yearbook

This is an older story, little over 2 years old, but the next shipping story for Sucker will revolve around the suggestion by Vance. Also I think Bully deserves a bit more content on here.

Pete frowns slightly as he stares down at the yearbook's generic cover. He'd had the thing for over a couple days and no one's come around to sign it. He didn't really go out and ask people to sign, either. He figured he was too much of a loser to ask the other students, or even teachers to sign his yearbook. And the thought of this made his frown worsen. However, when the bell finally rang and the few students who had stayed for the remainder of their English finals got up to leave, he met a smiling Mr. Galloway, beckoning him over. He figured the man was just drunk and wanted to give him a lecture about being more social and whatnot his sophomore year.

"Ah, Peter! How are you?" Mr. Galloway greets, his nose redder than Rudolf the Reindeer.

"I-I'm fine. What did you need?" he questions. With a warm smile, the man waves his hand, gesturing to the yearbook still clenched firmly in his hands. Hesitantly, he gives it to him, chewing on his bottom lip, anxious to see what he'll write. He watches him intently scribble away on the first page. He can see the familiar sloppy handwriting that had come back on so many assignments and tests. And when he's finally done, Galloway caps his pen and closes the book, handing it back to the student with a smile.

"Have a good summer, Peter," he tells him warmly. With a small thank you and goodbye, Pete leaves the classroom. He quickly opens the book once he's out, excited to see what the man had written.

"Such a pleasure in class. Have a good summer! Can't wait to see you come back as the official head boy with so many friends! ~Mr. Galloway"

It's short but really sweet. Galloway had always been one the coolest teachers at Bullworth, even if he was a drunk. He appreciated the message.

Walking out of the main building, Pete decided to take one last lap around campus before he sheltered himself inside his dorm room all summer, seeing as his parents didn't really send any letters saying how they missed him and couldn't wait for him to come home. And not even after a few steps away from the last stair was he met with Russell, the town's biggest – and scariest – junior. He could feel himself tremble at the sight of the bully.

"O-oh. H-hey, Russell," he greets timidly, giving him a nervous smile. The teen just grunts, though a grin spreads across his lips and for a moment, he's terrified he's gonna beat him with his yearbook.

"What that?" he questions with his poor English skills as he points to the book.

"This? Just my yearbook," he replies, acting nonchalant about it with a soft chuckle. Russell extends his hand, motioning his fingers for him to give it over. He's reluctant to do so, but he knows what will happen if he doesn't obey. So with a sick feeling in his gut, he hands the bully his yearbook. He just looks it over before staring at Pete.

"Got pen?" The question stuns him and the expression on his face says it all. Russell starts laughing as the younger teen fumbles to find a spare pen for him to use. He takes it softly from his hand, too, instead of snatching it away like Pete had anticipated. He stands there completely dumbfounded as Russell scribbles away and he wonders what he'll say. He's sure it'll be nothing but broken English and poorly spelled words, but the thought meant so much to him. Russell, the leader of the bully clique, was signing his yearbook, and not stealing it! After a bit of waiting, the junior hands it back with the same grin, but something else in his eyes that he couldn't catch onto.

"Thank you so much, Russell!" he speaks as the book is handed back to him. There's just a soft grunt and he waves, giving him a small wink before walking off. Pete's confused by the action until he looks down at what's been written.

"I'll see you over the summer, Pete. Don't be such a stranger to everyone when the school year starts up again, okay? ~R."

No way. No way did Russell Northrop, the walking caveman himself, sign his yearbook with such beautiful handwriting and perfect spelling. Not to mention how nice he was about all of it. Pete can't keep the smile off his face and he holds the yearbook close to himself. He feels all giddy and if he didn't want to look like anymore of a loser, he would've let out a squeal. But this still perplexed him. Russell wasn't smart – not that anyone knew anyways. Where did this come from? Did he have a sudden epiphany that he wanted to be smart? Or was it all an act?

Either way, he still felt great about it and he made his way around to the side of the school. His trip was cut short when he noticed the whole greaser gang walk his way, though, their newest member grinning at him.

"Pete! I've been looking for you!" He's surprised to hear that someone wanted to see him and without, what he assumed and hoped, malicious intent.

"Hey, Vyv. Hey… everyone else..." He feels nervous when he sees Johnny look him up and down, Lola right by his side with his arm hooked firmly around her waist. "What's uh… what's up?"

"Heard you got a yearbook," Johnny speaks, though his expression doesn't change to a friendly one like Vyvyan's had. "How's 'bout we all sign it for you?"

"Y-you guys really wanna sign my yearbook?" he asks. Peanut nods, a green sharpie in hand. And that's when he notices each of them have a different colored sharpie. He can feel himself smile, especially when he notices a pale pink in Norton's grasp. "Alright! Cool!"

He hands the book over to the closet greaser, Peanut, who's quickly going to work. While this goes on, the others are either look over their friend's shoulder or chatting with him.

"Any big plans for the summer, Petey?" Vance asks, giving him a smile. He just gives him a small shake of his head. This earns him a chuckle. "No plans? Maybe you'll stop by the tenement sometime, then?"

"You'd want me over there with you guys?" he questions. Lefty steps forward, hooking an arm around him with a smile, his free hand going up to mess with his hair.

"Of course! Or else we wouldn't have asked!" he tells him with a laugh, "Any friend of Jimmy's is a friend of ours, anyways."

"Thanks," He feels lucky to know the most popular kid in school now. At least they weren't bullying him like he had expected. And he can't help but smile widely.

It takes a bit for everyone to sign the yearbook and in that time, he's talked with every greaser, even King Johnny and his Queen, Lola. They were actually really pleasant and Lord knows he wishes he could just have an ounce of cool in him like they had. Even if they dressed from another time period. And just like Lefty, Johnny invites him over to the tenement whenever he's bored and wants someone to hang out with. It's nice to feel like he has people to call friends, even if he's never really spent much time with them. And when he's gotten his book back, different colors of goodbye and good luck messages hit him. From Peanut's simple "see you next year" to Norton's "go hang with the gang whenever you're alone." He feels lucky. Ricky and Vyvyan shared the same message, just both signing their names at the end. He even notices Vance's phone number and he can feel the heat rise to his cheeks. The greaser just gives him a wave and a wink as they all walk away from him. He spends a couple minutes rereading the messages the clique had written him and, once again, he holds the book close to him. Maybe he would get rid of his shell and actually text Vance over the summer.

Walking towards the fountain he's stopped by a couple preps. Pinky and Gord stride over, their aquaberry uniforms pristine and spotless. He's worried that they're going to belittle him for being poor, especially with the smirks on their faces.

"And what's this?" Gord speaks, going to snatch the yearbook away from Pete. He just frowns, slowly cowering in on himself. "Ew. You let those poor losers sign this before us?"

Gord scoffs as he looks over the other signatures. The comment replays over and over in his head. Pinky pulls out a pen from her purse, squealing slightly when Gord finishes signing it himself. He's still just as stunned when they're both finished and he takes it back with shaky hands. The two just give him a goodbye as they continue their way to the Harrington House, talking to each other. He's almost too nervous to look, but the cursive writing catches his attention. The messages aren't the friendliest, of course, but it still makes him feel good.

"You're not the most pathetic commoner at this school. ~Gord"

"You're okay. Too bad our social circles aren't the same, or we'd totally hang out over the summer! ~Pinky"

He just smiles nonetheless, going to close his book as he makes his way for the gym. He had a couple things in his locker that weren't meant to stay in there over the summer, but he had procrastinated for so long, just trying to avoid the area. But, seeing as he didn't want to be yelled at by either Dr. Crabblesnitch or Ms. Danvers, he had to visit today.

"Hey! Look who it is!" Ted's voice makes Pete shudder and he looks the jock who's walking towards him, Damon and Juri in tow.

"Yeah, look who it is," Damon repeats, Pete biting his tongue to keep back a mean comment. "What's that you got?"

"U-uh it's nothing," he chuckles softly, going to hide his yearbook. But Juri simply goes to snatch it from his hand, reading over the previous signatures.

"Oh, dude! That the new yearbook?" Ted questions, now taking it from Juri and looking in it. "Sick! I haven't even picked up mine yet!"

"I-it's not that great," Ted rolls his eyes, thumbing through the book, commenting about how great his senior picture came out. Pete stands there awkwardly, watching them look through every page before Damon pulls out a pen. Just like everyone else, they take turns signing it. And when they're done, Juri hands him his book back, ruffling his hair just like Lefty had done.

"See you next year!" he speaks, turning to leave. Damon gives him a noogie, following his friend and Ted gives him a pat on the back.

"Do this school good, 'kay, bro?" he tells him, "Jimmy'll take care of you."

"Yeah, thanks, Ted," He watches the graduate walk away with a small smile. "Good luck in the football career!"

Ted gives him one last thumbs up before he's gone. He feels good inside, like he's finally no longer a ghost at Bullworth. He can't contain his wide grin as he goes into the gym with a pep in his step.

Finally the sun was setting, Pete sitting in his dorm room with his yearbook in his lap. He looked over the signatures he had gotten. Beatrice, Cornelius and Earnest had signed the last page on the front, a couple of the kids had signed as well, along with Eunice, Christy and Angie. Ivan had doodled in the small spaces, and Ethan used a page to draw a few ninjas. Even Michael had decorated a page full of dinosaur stickers. However, even though so many other people had signed his yearbook, he noticed how Jimmy didn't. He didn't even see the ginger! Where had he gone to?

With a soft sigh, Pete lays down in his bed, the yearbook on his dresser. Maybe he could find him tomorrow? He was tired right now and sleep sounded amazing. But as he got close to sleeping, he heard a loud knocking on his door.

"There you are, Pete!" Jimmy bursts through his door, looking around his room. "I heard you had a yearbook. Where is it?"

"On my dresser," he replies tiredly, "Why? Where have you been, anyways?"

"Out," Jimmy goes over to the yearbook and snatches it up with a pleased look on his face as he thumbs through the pages. "Man, look at you! Signatures from so many people! Finally popular, huh, Petey?"

"I guess," He goes to lay back down, watching as Jimmy heads for the door.

"I'm gonna borrow this for a few, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, the ginger's out the door and going to his own room. Pete just groans softly. As much as he liked Jimmy, he wasn't always up for how quick he did everything. But he didn't let it fully get to him as he closes his eyes once more, finally drifting off to sleep. He doesn't even hear Jimmy return a couple hours later, set his yearbook back on the dresser and wish him a goodnight.

The next morning, Pete wakes up fairly early, everyone else still asleep. The first thing he notices is the book sitting where Jimmy had left it and he smiles. Finally a signature from his best friend. But as he searches for a message, he doesn't find one. Instead, on the last couple pages, there are drawings. Portraits of him and Jimmy, along with a small one of Gary. He was still a sore spot for both, but the ginger knew Pete had liked the senior before he went crazy. And he smiles, small tears in his eyes. He had admired Jimmy's art skills, and he felt lucky to forever have his work. It's better than any message.

#bully #bully scholarship edition #pete kowalski #fanfic #The Yearbook

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nobodyeverasked · 4 years

Text

00:00; mark tuan

(6293 words) - large

summary - there’s one small second where the world holds its breath. In that second, you feel okay.

Y/N tried to withstand the symphonies of the sunlight lulling him to sleep as he pinched himself through his sweatshirt sleeve and squinted at the projector ahead of him, really debating why he took Art History for the third year in a row despite how much he hated it. He needed the credit for his internship program in the summer, but he didn’t know he was going to have to withstand this kind of torment.

He let his sighs dissolve into the pages of his textbooks which piled up his heavy eyes and tried to focus on the man gesturing enthusiastically at a black and white picture of a historic art figure Y/N swore he saw two slides ago. Professor Cross was a tall, gaunt man with nothing in his wardrobe other than those sweater vests that were so washed out of their colour Y/N almost sympathised with them. They looked like they were tired of his lessons too; the threads bouncing around his writhing arms looking like they wanted to rip themselves off and hide away in the nearest washing machine. Y/N thanked them for staying on, though, he ran out of eyebleach when he had to sit through an entire presentation by the junkies behind him on why erotica is the pinnacle of artistry and how modern interpretation and segregational stigmatism is the bane of humanity.

Don’t worry, Y/N didn’t stay awake for that one either.

He almost gave into the sleepiness that pulled at his eyes and weighed down his shoulders until a head leaned onto his, and heard a dramatic huff he knew all too well. He combed those famous brown and blonde box-braids out of his face and turned to face the one person in this entire college he didn’t entirely dislike. Gloria Antoine. One of the only people that was there to dash to his front door and cook some month-old ramen from the back of his pantry and be there to hear his rants that seemed to only surface under the veil of the moonlight.

“Remind me why this is important…?” Gloria groaned and Y/N struggled to hide a chuckle in his sleeves. “I’m like, I get it, but why…?”

“You don’t find Cezanne’s works transcendent?” Y/N poked Gloria’s cheek before she lifted her head off his shoulder. “I wonder if Mcdonalds is still hiring?”

Gloria stifled a cackle and they both looked forward to the screen, letting the whispers of their laughter flutter around them and fuel the flames that lay smouldered under his fingertips. Y/N turned his hand over, the memories of the night prior still ingrained in his mind, still blessing every beat of his heart that pounded at the thought of the guy that made every second they spent together - in and out of each other’s arms - so special. Mark Tuan. He remembers the knot of devotion tied between them as they laid back on the hood of Mark’s mustang and looked at the canopies of ivory stars that gleaned like spotlights and spilled on their skin. He remembers Mark taking his lips with his own and the cold metal under them rendering itself useless. Mark was the arms of sanctuary that wound around his waist and would never let go. The feeling of safety and freedom, the moments that made Y/N feel like a bird soaring through a cloudless heaven.

Mark was his everything, the vows of affection that tumbled out of them on their lazy Fridays, the sheets between them that scorched their bodies and drowned them in the waves of their own admiration. He was almost too good to be true sometimes. He sometimes felt so unworthy to feel the heat under Mark’s fingertips, to be scorched by the skin that runs so sweet under his tongue, like the stars under Mark’s skin always shone too bright, were always too beautiful for Y/N’s skies whenever they aligned.

Even so, he couldn’t wait for the bell to sound so he could fall into Mark’s embrace, drown himself in the haze of coffee and cherries that always reminds him of the clementine skies they shared on rooftops together, brings him back to when they had the golden sunlight carve out their leather-studded kisses in the sands.

Their nights draped in the Shanghai moonlight are all just a blur now, blissful memories that hang on the edge of their tongues-

The bell sent Y/N careening out of his trance and up to the students that scrambled for the exit, hoping to escape the clutches of black coffee are boredom that swelled in the room like pungent stench. He could hear Gloria whoop before jumping out of her seat and tossing her back over her shoulder, barely able to contain her excitement for the fact that this lesson was finally over. She tugged at Y/N’s arm, gesturing her head to the door and Y/N followed her out, the stiff smile he held out to Professor instantly falling off his face as he stepped through the doorway like a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He followed Gloria to her locker where her friends waited there expectantly, tapping away at their phones to distract themselves from the concept of socialization. Abbey - the blond one…? He didn’t remember - greeted Gloria with a hug and an avalanche of words came tumbling from their lips, frantic chatter taking over their small circle. Y/N just leaned onto the lockers behind them, taking in all of the latest ‘tea’ Abbey had to spill, wishing he could take in the melodies of his midnight conversations with Mark instead. Gloria snatched him down from the clouds of euphoria that began to swallow him up and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, bringing him back into the circle and turning him towards a new girl that he somehow didn’t notice stepping into their conversation. The shy hunch in her shoulders and the demure shimmers in her hazel eyes danced in the amber sunlight contorting to the busting chatter going on around them.

Was she Abbey…? Or was she Britney…? He didn’t remember, and he genuinely didn’t know if he wanted to care.

“Hey Y/N, this is Stella, she’s new here and I met her in my Bio class.” Gloria gestured towards the girl whose eyes were taken over with a flourish of confidence as she heard Y/N’s name.

“This is Y/N?” Stella’s smile was weirdly wide and brilliant. Y/N just smiled back awkwardly, Gloria’s arm that comfortingly wound around his shoulders failing to shed the shivers of awkwardness that slithered down his spine. “You’re the one that’s dating Mark, right?” Stella stepped closer, he could see the brilliance of admiration shine in her eyes, light up her smile. The same light which ignited every one of Mark’s laughs as they swayed in their living room, the light that wound around them and dyed their most cherished memories, the light that was caught between their lips as they sealed their kisses in their indigo night. “Oh my God, Mark Tuan… I’m sad he transferred schools, he’s so hot.” Gloria could feel Y/N tense up and opened her mouth to cut in, but Y/N stopped her with a shrug.

“Yeah, he’s pretty amazing.”

“I know we just met, but I’m gonna be honest with you Y/N. Just for the one-time.” Stella building up her statement didn’t help the blissful toxins that bloomed under the violet tapestries of Mark’s admiration adorning Y/N’s chest from running bitter like as and stinging with regret. “I have no idea how you copped that. You’re lucky as hell.”

“Well, Mark’s pretty lucky too, Stella. Y/N can actually stay awake in art history.”

“Thanks Gloria…” Y/N shook his head. Gloria was always there to be his hype-woman when he needed her. “It’s not that impossible, right?” He turned back to Stella, trying not to let the doubts that boiled in his stomach and spilled out in smokescreens in his mind leech into his resolve too much. Y/N forced down a frown, trying not to snarl in the face of Stella’s unyielding persistence to make his kisses on mark’s skin feel paper thin, feel stone cold, like the paradise in his hands that Mark said was always there was nothing but a mirage.

“I mean-”

Gloria slammed her locker closed with a nudge of her knee and whipped her head towards Stella. “Thanks for the Ted Talk, Stella, but Y/N and I need to get going. I’ll see you girls tomorrow.” She didn’t pull back the punch of her glare into Stella’s hazel eyes as she nudged Y/N around the corner, taking his hand and escaping the estrogen-fest that did nothing but beat Y/N down. “I’m sorry, Y/N. We were vibing in Bio, I don’t know what happened.” Gloria shifted her gaze over to Y/N, his resolve crumbling in one defeated sigh. Y/N tried to focus on the clicking of Gloria’s heels against the white tile floors of the hallway before pushing his words past his teeth.

“It’s okay, Gloria.” He tried not to let her words bite too deep into his skin, to keep the stars under his skin that would always wait to align with Mark’s from fading in the whirlwinds of Stella’s words that kept Y/N with his fist clenched in his pocket and the hold on his textbook tightened to his chest. “How did I get a man like Mark? He’s literally everything, and I’m just a guy with a seventy average and a dream laid to waste..” Y/N stopped walking, gaze trained to the shine in the freshly waxed floors and the reflection of his eyes that held too many questions and not enough answers. Gloria froze where she stood and snapped her head to her best friend, someone usually so confident, so in love with themselves in others, now his voice was barely above a whisper fading in their breaths that echoed in their silence. She grabbed his shoulders, and brought his gaze up to hers, looking at him with a wildfire of determination lapping at her dark brown eyes.

“Hey, I know it’s been hard cause everyone seems to have a hard-on for comparing you two just because you’re dating, which sucks. Stella sucks. But you’re the best and you deserve to know it, okay? He’s so lucky to have you, because you’re so dedicated to him and me and us and you, and you’re so loyal. You’re beautiful, okay? You’re beautiful and talented and amazing.” Neveah took an exaggerated breath, a smile beginning to frame her lips as Y/N’s chuckles resonated between them. “Don’t-”

“Ah! Y/N! I’m glad you’re still here!” Y/N and Gloria turned their heads to the monotone voice they’ve grown to fear. It was Professor Cross, walking up to them and waving his arm above his head.

“Can’t catch a break, huh?” Gloria and Y/N let their laughter fade into the evening air. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, and coffees on me.”

“Six shots of espresso or I’m suing.”

“Your wish is my command, Y/N.” Gloria wrapped him up in a hug before scampering towards the exit.

“Y/N!” Professor Cross called again despite their distance. Y/N tried not to scrunch his nose as he could smell the coffee and disappointment in his Professor’s breath, wedging his teeth into his lip as he suspected the hundreds of things that this could be about. He knows that he’s been falling behind, the worries and stress that riddled his mind like a plague and withered his willpower leaving him to stare at his essays with nothing but doubt, nothing but his knowing that he’ll never be smart like Mark. His favourite moments with Mark were when that didn’t matter, when knowing complex historical milestones or bisecting segments on invisible squares never came spilling from their lips like their vows of affection did. “We need to talk about your marks in my class…”

“I-I know, Professor Cross, I’m in a slump right now but the summative will bring my mark up, I’ve been working on a piece-”

“I know, I know, but I didn’t expect you to hit a slump, Y/N. You’re one of the most enthusiastic students in my class. Granted, it’s art history, that’s not saying a lot, but I was surprised when I got the numbers for your last few tests. You know, I thought Mark would have a better influence on you, after all. He was always first in my classes.” Professor Cross tried to joke around, tried to bring some hollow laughter into the stale air trudging between them, but he knew he took it too far. He could see the fluorescent lights above chipping away at Y/N’s resolve, the hands clutching his anthro textbook gripping onto the spine. Y/N’s gaze shifted to everywhere except on the professor, deep breaths drying his throat and weakening his forced smile.

“I know, Mark’s smart, he used to be the top in the class, he’s been making art, fixing cars and changing the world, I know…” Y/N tried to wring the sweat out from his hands, doing his best to not let the sunlight streaming from the classroom windows to scratch into his skin too much. “I know, he’s the best, I know…” Y/N only shied away as Mr. Cross took a step closer. “I’ll get my grades up, I promise, I’ll try hard.”

“Y/N-”

“Have a good night, Professor…” Y/N could barely raise his gaze up from the ground, the weight of his professor's words dragging down on his shoulders and keeping his breath lodged into his throat. He turned away without a second thought and barely spared a glance towards his Art History professor before whipping himself around the corner of the nearest doorway. He needed to escape, he needed to escape from the spotlight that burned into his head and constantly sung his inadequacies into his ears whenever he let his mind wander. This was no swansong that so easily fell from between Mark’s lips, and this light was not the ivory whisper of the starlight that would alway drape over their entwined fingers.

He tried not to let his inner thoughts consume him as he made it to the main gates, the smokescreen of his doubts boiling, bubbling under the breath he finally let out as the amber sunlight followed in his footsteps to the main courtyard of the campus.

Mark leaned against the side of his car, playing with the edge of his sleeve as he waited for Y/N in the front of the parking lot, bathing in the amber sunlight streaming from the golden sky. It’s been a few months of this routine, picking Y/N up and heading home to bask in the fires of their admiration together, and Mark could not get enough of it. Seeing Y/N’s tired smile bloom as they sat next to each other in the front, the lazy kisses and intertwined fingers making them grateful his windows were tinted. Mark couldn’t get enough of it, he wanted more, just to take Y/N in and all of the wonder that spilled out from between those beautiful lips - heaven’s gates - the edge that their secrets used to tremble on and now free fall into the oceans of their trust, their love.

He couldn’t help but beam as he saw Y/N finally scamper out of the entrance to his design college, but he didn’t notice Y/N’s shifting gaze and the dejection weighing on his shoulders. Mark only focused his gaze on Y/N’s eyes that seemed to sparkle in the gilded sunlight and his skin that glowed under the golden skies, his lips that always wrenched his gaze on them and reminded them of how sweet they tasted under his tongue and between his teeth. The stories they told, they could go on and on and he could spend hours listening to what they had to say. That head of hair still singed by his wandering hands and burning touch where he could bury his worries, and revel in the softness that he tangled between his fingers. Those shoulders he would wrap his arms around and feel the tides of their cherry chapstick crash on the shores of their adoration, the shores like those beaches they burned black with the circles they danced in the sands.

“Hey, baby.” Mark wrapped his arms around Y/N’s waist and kissed the top of his head, lips trailing down to his cheeks and waiting, longing to paint his skin in tapestries of their compassion. Y/N just hid his face in Mark’s hands, eyes taking sudden interest in the pebbles on the concrete. “How were classes today?” Mark cradled Y/N’s cheeks between his hands and kissed his lips, his smile slowly fading as the one that shone behind Y/N’s pressed lips didn’t budge. “What happened? Did Mrs. Fletching go on about why colour theory is JUST A THEORY, A COLOUR THEORY!”

Mark nudged Y/N’s chin up and pecked his lips, unknowing of the judging stares and jealous glares that dug into Y/N’s back and ripped out his spine Mortal Kombat style.

“Something like that…'' Y/N’s lips finally budged with a shrivelled whine, his head leaning onto Mark’s chest, hoping that his leather jacket and beautiful hands could hide him from his own shame and the girls that he knew were whispering about him by the library entrance. Y/N’s smile always sweetened the sparks that ignited between their teeth, and Mark wants to get that blissful glow under Y/N’s cheeks again. “Can we just head home?”

“Of course baby.” Mark opened the door for Y/N and then wound around the front to head in himself. “Do you want to talk about what happened? I really like your smile and…” Mark paused, trying to choose his words carefully so the heavy silence practically crushing the car could feel just a bit lighter. “I haven’t been seeing it a lot nowadays, you know I’d do anything to see you smile.” Mark caressed Y/N’s cheek, seeing a weak smile spread across his baby’s lips made him feel a tiny bit better, at least the words spun like silk from his lips could always make Y/N feel safe. He meant every word and wanted Y/N to know that.

“Maybe later? I just wanna get out of these tight-ass jeans and sleep…” Y/N shrunk back in the seat, with Mark’s touch melting from his cheeks and smoothing across his hands, the demons thrashing about in the pits of his stomach made and making him question his worthiness of such a man. A man who smiles in Y/N’s adversity…

I don’t deserve him, Y/N thought as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed home.

Y/N sat on the couch, doodling on his tablet, one of Mark’s many sweatshirts that found their way into his closet on his body. Mark couldn’t resist the way Y/N looked in his clothes, the scent of coconut and lavender staining all of his shirts and the admiration that dripped down their necks in the nights under the moon drenching the collar of everything he put on. It was the smell of home to him, the touch of home to him, the feeling of home to him. Y/N’s fingers between his, the coffee flavoured kisses starting every one of their slow mornings. He shuffled over from the other side of the couch, raising to his knees to tower of Y/N’s huddled form and looked to the tablet to see what masterpiece he was conjuring on that screen this time. He played with Y/N’s hair, kissing his forehead and stroking his arms before scrunching his nose at Y/N’s focus on the brilliant screen between his hands.

“Y/N~” Mark kissed Y/N’s nose, earning the cutest little squeal he has ever heard in his life. “What d’you want for dinner…?” Mark straddled Y/N’s legs, playing with the hand that wasn’t vigorously scribbling on the screen with his stylus. Y/N leaned forward - eyes finally off that screen - to press his forehead to Mark’s. His big baby. Sometimes, in moments like these with the evening sunlight draped over their shoulders and the gleam of their smiles taken between their lips, he feels like he deserves this. Sometimes he deserves Mark, the most caring, affectionate, optimistic and beautiful man he’s ever met. But it just takes one day, one thing, one word to break that all down, to tell him he’s not worth him, not worth anything. The sting of his classmates’ glares still burned into his skull, etched themselves into his memories every time he and Mark kissed.

Maybe they were right - he thought. Maybe…

“Uhm~” Y/N sang into Mark’s skin, the fingers tracing the lines in his palm and the body inching itself between his thighs breaking his melody a little. His heart burned for Mark, longed for him, but did he deserve a man like that to fester the flames? To ignite the weathered stars under his skin? Sometimes when he ran his hand through Mark’s hair or listened to the symphonies of his precious heartbeats on the nights that used to leave him sleepless, he could feel his skin burn. Not with the sparks that writhe between their sweat-soaked chests, but with a toxin of those doubts that leech into every hesitant kiss he plants. “How about pizza?”

“Sounds good to me.” “You wanna come?”

“I think I’ll stay here, gotta get some stuff ready.”

“My hero.” “Turning on netflix and everything.”

“I know, superman was found jobless.”

“You’re everything superman wishes he was.” Mark headed to the door with a parting kiss Y/N wanted to last forever, until the sunset bled black. “And so much more~”

“I don’t deserve you.” Y/N widened his eyes as he realized what tripped over his tongue, he hoped Mark didn’t read into that too much.

“You deserve the world, baby.” Mark hummed into the coffee-stained air of their house before slipping out the door, making sure to send a wink Y/N’s way. The scarlet in Y/N’s cheeks bit into his skin. He wanted it to feel good, the way Mark’s sweet nothings made his cheeks burn like wildfire. But so many voices in his head, Stella, Professor Cross, that one teacher that constantly calls him Mark’s boyfriend. They all started screaming, voices in his head that tore the feeling of Mark’s lips from his skin.

As the door shut and Y/N sighed into the haze of silence settling in the house, he just let the voices twist and echo in his head and rip into his heart. He let them stifle the flames stoked between the symphonies of their twilight, he let them wash away the footprints in strawberry sands and make the coral sunlight that melts on their skin on those summer nights they’ll always cherish submerge him in pools of guilt.

“I don’t deserve you…”

Mark stumbled through the front door, kicking off his shoes with a stagger and proceeding into the surprisingly dark house. Pizza boxes in one hand, house keys in the other, he stalked into the kitchen with a cocked eyebrow. He presumed Y/N may have been napping, but he knows Y/N hates having all the lights off. Mark learned his mistake the last time they did that during one of their many journeys to thwart the waning moonlight together, Y/N in Mark’s arms as they tried their best to keep their eyes on a horror movie Mark said would be ‘just fine~’. He could still remember the popcorn they had to clean off their carpet and the nails that dug into his arms. Neither of them slept that night, but at least they had their midnight conversations and entwined grins to help ignite the starlight between them and ease the nerves that rumbled through their nervous laughter.

He sighed at the memory, still feeling the cinders of their admiration staining his fingertips as he dusted off his hands and walked towards the bedroom - going to retrieve Y/N from whatever blanket cocoon he was probably in - but instantly halted when he heard sobbing scratch at the bathroom door. Desperate and fragile sobs freezing Mark in his place. He scrambled to the sound and rushed towards the bathroom, pressing his ear up against the door.

“Y/N?” Mark didn’t hide the panic beating senseless at his throat or the stress that fested under his shaking hands. He remembered Y/N’s silence, the hollow light of his weak smiles. He remembers how Y/N’s gaze always fell to the floor and how the kisses to his fingers as of late weren’t moulded by the grin he loves to see. Why couldn’t he see this before?

He kept his forehead on the door, wincing as the sobs and whines from behind it instantly stopped as Mark called out Y/N’s name again. “Y/N… What’s wrong? Can I come in?” Mark didn’t know how to handle this… The stench of grief that oozed from under the door and rose to his ankles. He didn’t hear an answer, but pushed past the silence and saw Y/N in the corner, knees hugged to his chest. Y/N’s head snapped up to the sound of footsteps and let a gasp rip through his sobs as he clambered to his feet.

Mark put his hands on Y/N’s shoulders, stopping him in his place before he could escape.

“Y/N…”

He didn’t like this, seeing the tears rolling down Y/N’s cheeks, staining his hands and carving rivers into his skin. He sat Y/N back down onto the floor wrapping his arms around Y/N without a second thought. “What happened?”

“I...I…” Y/N tried to choke out some sort of excuse for why he was feeling this way, battling through the smoke and breaking the mirrors that housed a reflection he despised. He brought his knees closer to him, his efforts to wipe away the onslaught of tears staining his sweatshirt stopped by Mark, who took Y/N’s hands into his own and kissed his knuckles softly, his face contorted with confusion and worry. “I really don’t deserve you… The more I thought about it, what everyone’s been saying, the truer it seems.”

“Y/N- what are you talking about? You-”

“You’re the most beautiful, empathetic, loving man I have ever met. You can do anything you set your mind to and even when I decide to let my thoughts take over and consume me, you’re still there to hug me and kiss me and hold me even when I ignore you or dismiss you. Everyone is so right… You’re too good for me, your everything is too good for me, Mark. I-”

“Stop!” Mark shook his head violently, taking Y/N’s face in his hands and standing him up. “What are you talking about? Who’s making you feel this way?” Mark’s voice was barely above a whisper as he brought Y/N away from the corner, wiping his tears as he waited for an answer. Something.

Even with Y/N’s face between his hands, his eyes still looked everywhere but him, Mark couldn’t stand it. Y/N was hurt, someone was hurting him, and he wasn’t telling him who it was! “Please, Y/N tell me, who-”

“ME!” Y/N tried to push himself away. “I… I don’t have a reason, but every day I look at you, I realize how worthless I am, how I could never do anything you do, and yet you come home or pick me up and you take me in your arms and tell me that I’m perfect…”

The girls in the wallways...

“Every day I start to hate myself more and more because of who I am, what I look like, what I do or what I CAN’T do… And no matter who tells me to get over it, or that it’s just in my head, doesn’t understand that I can’t stop it!”

Stella… Professor Cross… Everyone… Everything!

“I don’t know what to do, Mark… I love you more than anything. But I don’t deserve you… I don’t deserve your smile, or your love or your compassion because I’m ME! I’m a failure, I’m just another guy who’s trying to make his dying dreams a reality. I’m a guy who thinks he has everything down pat until the test comes up and I fail again, I’m the guy who lies about his problems ‘cause I’m always told they don’t matter. I’m just a commendable, malleable second choice for everyone around me and I don’t know how to stop it!” Y/N’s sobs ripped through from between his teeth, hitched breaths boiling in his throat as he hit his head against Mark’s shoulder. His cries took up the silence in a cacophony of sadness and anguish, and the light in his eyes that Mark could embrace himself in for hours died out like the withering flames of whatever confidence he had left.

“Y/N…” Mark pulled Y/N into his embrace, hoping that his kisses to Y/N’s neck could straighten his frown or stop the chills of his cries from biting so deep. “I didn’t know you were feeling this way… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t notice and I’m so sorry I let these thoughts get the better of you. They’re not true, not a single one.”

“It’s not your fault, Mark… It never was, please don’t blame yourself.”

“We’re each other’s responsibility, right Y/N?” Mark angled Y/N’s chin and fixed their gazes, trying to take solace in the fading galaxies that embraced his boyfriend’s teary-eyed gaze, the stars that light his nights ablaze.

Mark pulled Y/N forward and turned him towards the mirror, wrapping his arms around his waist and setting his chin on Y/N’s shoulder. With a shaky breath, he entwined their fingers and pointed towards the mirror, leaving Y/N to cock his head their reflections. “You know what I see?” Mark kissed Y/N’s neck, feeling the fires of their adoration start to dance under his skin with every second Y/N spent in Mark’s embrace. “I see the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on-”

“But-”

Mark stifled Y/N protests and let his tongue take their place, looking at Y/N with so much purpose, so much love. Even now, when the flames between their skin are just tiny sparks, even when the sunsets in their skies are pale with their cries and the tears drenching their hands and cheeks dwindle the lights in their eyes. Mark’s admiration never wavers, will never waver even if anybody wants to tell Y/N otherwise.

“You know what I see…?” Mark nudged Y/N’s nose with his, the small chuckle he earned from between Y/N’s lips made his hopeful smile that much brighter. “A gorgeous, compassionate individual, who is also an amazing artist and the best boyfriend a guy like me could ever ask for. You will never be a failure, Y/N, the mistakes you make now will only help you become an even more perfect guy if that’s possible. I know it’s hard to realize, especially now babe, but what those people down the hall or up the creek or whatever say, shouldn’t matter. They’re the same people that will marvel at every single thing you’ll create through those beautiful, beautiful hands. I can’t completely understand what you’re going through, but I’m here to stand with you, I’m here to help you respect yourself because you deserve it, Y/N. It’s hard to hear the love when the hate speaks so loud, I know… What others say though, shouldn’t affect you like this, they aren’t you, they don’t know what your can do or what your precious, pure heart is capable of. I know you love me so much. I know that. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you, with the weird looks we used to get in public or those people that don’t know what love is or how free it should be. But when I drop by to pick you up or come home and see that smile and hear your beautiful voice, it helps me believe. It helps me believe that I’m worthy to wake up next to you or to see you embody the moonlight you hold in your hands.” Mark took a breath, looking up into the mirror to see Y/N’s teary-eyed gaze and a smile as brilliant as the sheets of starlight that drape around their shoulders on the nights they’ll never forget.

Y/N whipped around and threw his arms around Mark, the arms instantly tightening around his waist and the lips ghosting his ear leaving Y/N’s sobs as nothing more than shrivelling whispers behind Y/N’s grin. The flames of their admiration that lapped at their hearts in delicate flames burst under their fingertips and spiralled between their breaths. Mark pressed his forehead to Y/N’s, the sweetness of Y/N’s skin that ran under his lips like velvet and the light of his smile that made the sun look like a shadow made his chest swell in happiness. The wildfires embracing them and their hearts lifting the haze that choked out their sobs and letting their breaths of ease mould the soft kisses Mark traced Y/N’s cheeks with.

“I love you, Y/N. You mean so much to me… I just want to show you how special you are, not just to me, but to yourself too…” Mark’s breath was caught in his throat as Y/N entwined their lips with a flourish, tongues caressing lips that curled into grins as soon as Mark’s back hit the wall. Tear stained breaths burned up in cinders to reveal languishing sighs, the streams of sunlight now stained with their quiet laughter and the ruby red that painted their kisses.

“I… I don’t know what to say…” Y/N held the hands that cupped his cheeks and pressed them to his chest, kissing Mark’s knuckles as their giggles ignited the dreary darkness of their bathroom. “I didn’t expect all of that, thank you, Mark. I love you more than anything and you mean the world to me. I’m sorry-”

“No apologizing!” Mark freed his hands and messed with Y/N’s hair, scrunching his nose and burying his kisses into the hair he would knead through as the summer rain sang it’s melodies at their window, or when the glow of the clementine skies of their autumn evenings finished carving out the ripples of their sheets and ran weathered between their restless hands. He draped his arms around Y/N’s waist, looking down to his pout he couldn’t help but kiss away with a blissful, lovestruck grin plastered onto his face. Y/N just leaned onto Mark’s chest, breathing out into the symphonies of silence that surrounded them and the violet evening that began to bloom above the rooftop of their house.

They enjoyed the silence that draped over them like the ashen sheets just two doors over that housed their safest sounds, the amber sunlight stepping through the door and painting their grins gold like the honey that embraced their most cherished memories.

“Now, I, as your amazing, loving boyfriend brought home pizza that’s probably freezing cold by now. Would you care to accompany me on my journey to the microwave?” Mark let his stray fingertips prod at Y/N’s waistband, failing to hide his smile as playful shrieks soaked into his neck - music to his ears.

Y/N just remembered why Mark went out in the first place, making him wince into Mark’s skin. He hummed at Mark’s proposal.

“Microwaved pizza… How romantic…” Y/N followed Mark out of the bathroom, tightening the knot of devotion that burned between their interlaced fingers, their giggles spinning into the gold that dripped from their smiles. The sweetness of the air following them out into their hallway that surrounded all of their midnight walks down the block shoving their heads under the reckless waves of their ocean.

“I’m honoured, my beloved.” Mark playfully nudged Y/N towards the wall, pressing him up on it and taking his skin between his lips. “I love you, baby…”

Y/N looked into Mark’s eyes, auburn gemstones of untainted beauty. The one place he could truly see himself - suspended in Mark’s star-studded gaze. Mark was the flowered path of happiness and acceptance he longed for every day the full moon peeked out to talk with him on his lonely nights. He did deserve this, he thought. He deserved to savour the air that stings with the sunlight they stir every morning, the fingers that tangle in his hair and worship him like a treasure, the ivory spotlight that hangs over their dancing tongues, the desire stuck between their teeth and dripping from garnet lips. Maybe he did.

As he cradled Mark’s cheeks with hands scorched by the beautiful novas that burned between their lips, they let the blissful silence ignite between them and allowed their fingers to wander across skin they were blessed to memorize every inch of under the spotlight of the stars.

“I know, Mark. And I’ll never forget it.”

“You better not.”

#kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop lgbt #lgbtq #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #got7 x male reader #got7 mark x male reader #mark tuan x male reader #got7 x reader #mark x reader #mark x male reader #mark tuan x reader #writing

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 5 years

Text

Crimson & Clover | Ted “Theodore” Logan x Reader (Oneshot)

Word Prompt: Sports

Words: 1677

Fandom: Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure

Summary: You are a soccer player that met Ted at a rock concert. He gets insecure from the teasing he gets from your teammates, but you try to assure him that you don’t care about what they say.

People wondered how two seemingly different people ended up together. Ted wasn’t so crazy about school, but he was crazy about music and when he met you, he became crazy about you. It was at a rock concert when you had bumped into him and his friend, Bill. You recognized them instantly as the ones that kept being called on in class, but you didn’t count on them recognizing you.

“Dude, it’s the soccer babe from history!” Bill yelled over the music. You raised an eyebrow, having heard what he said. Ted shoved Bill, but he didn’t deter in his teasing. “Come on, dude, show some moves!”

Bill shoved him towards you as you watched in amusement. Ted threw a dirty look at his friend that nervously turned to you. He scratched his neck as he looked at you, his mouth moving but you couldn’t hear anything over the ongoing concert.

“What?” you asked, leaning in closer.

“I said you are looking most excellent today!” Ted shouted just as the band finished their song. Several people looked at Ted and laughed before turning back to the stage. His cheeks heated as he shuffled in place.

You smiled at him, putting a comforting hand on his arm. You leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” you said in his ear, then started to cheer for the next song.

He had asked you out after the concert and the two of you had been together ever since. You supportive of his dream of a band with Bill, the Wyld Stallyns, and his was supportive of you playing for the soccer team. When your teammates first saw your boyfriend, they’d teased that you could snap him like a twig if you hugged him too hard and how he should stand far away before a ball hits him and knock him out. You punched them. Playfully, of course, though their arms were bruised after that.

Ted wasn’t big on exercising, you knew, but after they told him that, he started to follow you to the gym. On his first day, you could already tell that he had no clue where to start or how to operate the machinery. You helped him by starting a warm-up and stretches, then showed him around the gym. He nodded along, but he remained uncharacteristically quiet.

“Don’t push yourself,” you warned him, “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Yeah, of course, (Y/n/n), no problem,” he said, staring at a guy doing deadlifts at the back of the gym and flinching when he dropped the weights.

You rubbed his arm reassuringly. “Well, okay. I’m heading over to the treadmill-”

“Okay, got it.” He flashed you a bright smile and walked off to the nearby weights. You watched him leave, not wanting to leave him alone on his first day.

You were finishing another lap on the treadmill, the pumping of your blood in your along with the guitar riffs from the rock music that Ted had given you, when you heard a crash followed by a shout that suspiciously sounded like your Ted.

You shut the treadmill off and frantically looked around for your boyfriend when you saw a crumpled figure on the floor with other gym goers surrounding him. You rushed over to his side, one of the gym employees carefully cradling his foot that was starting to swell.

“What happened,” you asked the employee.

“He dropped weights on his foot and he landed badly,” he said with a grimace. “ He’s twisted it pretty bad. We’ve called the paramedics already.”

“Thank you.” You kneel next to Ted as the other employee shooed the other people away. Ted’s face was twisted up in a frown, his hands clenched into fists as he endured the pain. You took your hand towel and dabbed at his sweating forehead. “Oh, Ted,” you sighed.

Your big game was coming up and you really wanted Ted to go and cheer you on, but he refused to talk to you. You asked Bill what was wrong, but he brushed it off too quickly while avoiding your gaze. After the incident at the gym, Ted had a cast fitted on him and his dad had been scolding him about proper gym etiquette and safety. When you went to see him, he turned his head and came up with an excuse of having to do his homework. So instead, you asked Bill if he could check up on him for you.

Ted watched you leave his house for the third time that week from his bedroom window, his chest tightening as you looked back with a crestfallen expression. Your eyes met his, making him feel caught in the act of something. He quickly looked away and waited until you started back home. He was more embarrassed than anything, but he couldn’t possibly tell that to someone who was so confident and sure of yourself.

He heard his dad’s footsteps making their way towards his room soon after. He limped over to his bed and opened a textbook to a random page with his best thinking look with a hand placed under his chin in contemplation.

His dad opened the door the scene before him and sighed. “You need to talk to her,” he said.

“Dad, can’t you see that I’m studying for school?” Ted said, holding his textbook up for emphasis, but his dad could see that he was holding it upside down.

“Normally I would discourage any distractions from school, but Bill is more of a distraction than you having a girlfriend. Heck, your grades improved ever since you started dating her. She’s... ,” his dad sighed again and stood next to his bed with his arms crossed, “She’s good for you, Theodore. And she’s hurt. What exactly happened?”

Ted threw his textbook down and ruffled his hair. “It’s totally stupid,” he mumbled.

“Ted, this is you we’re talking about. Nothing will surprise me.”

Ted huffed. “It’s just… (Y/n) is, like the most excellent soccer player in her team and she’s so tough, and funny, and such a babe, and like, her teammates don’t think we match because I’m this weak airhead from class.”

“What did (Y/n) say to them?”

“Well, she punched them and, like, really let’um have it and told them off.”

“So you believed them even though (Y/n) doesn’t,” his dad surmised. “She clearly still likes you despite your short attention span and terrible guitar skills and weird antics.”

“Thanks, dad. I totally messed up most heinously,” Ted said in defeat, “Hey, dad?”

His dad paused next to the door. “Yes?”

“Can you help me with something?”

You finished the team warm-up and stretches, sitting down with the others and fished out your water bottle. Your teammates were talking excitedly to each other, hyping each other up and glancing back at the opposing team.

“Your boyfriend’s not here today,” the goalie, Amanda, said, sitting next to you. “You guys had a fight?”

You sighed. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Ted doesn’t seem to be one to hold a grudge. I’m sure it’ll be fine. He’s crazy about you. We need you to focus today. Get your head in the game.” She patted your shoulder and shoved you playfully.

You forced a small and nodded. You and Ted rarely fought. When you had your disagreements, he was always open to talk about it. You knew how strict his dad was and would tell him to finish his homework before going out on a date. You would even quiz him with the incentive of a kiss for each question he got right. That definitely motivated him. He was your biggest cheerleader and you could really use his happy energy right now.

The first kick off was about to start when everyone heard loud whooping from the sidelines. The two teams turned and saw two goofballs, a tall dark haired boy leaning on crutches with his shorter blonde friend, with large signs with your team’s named painted on. Those were your goofballs.

“Yeah, (Y/n)!” Ted shouted.

You duck your head in embarrassment from the attention shift, but you were happy he was here. You shook yourself and gave them a thumbs up. They reciprocated with large smiles.

The game commenced with loud cheering from both sides of the field. You’ve managed to score one goal and assisted for the rest of the first half of the game. When you were switched out during the second half, Ted was already waiting for you at the with a gatorade before kissing your cheek.

“I’m really sorry for treating you like that, (Y/n/n). It was most uncool,” he said, bowing his head in shame.

“It’s okay, I forgive you. You do realize that I don’t care about all those things that my teammates said, right? I love you just the way you are.”

“I know, I’m an idiot. Wait, you love me?” His head shot up, his eyes wide.

You smiled at him. “Of course, you idiot.”

Halfway through the second half, you were switched back in due to a teammate’s injury. You scored the winning goal, your teammates rushing to your side and lifting you up. Bill and Ted cheered, doing air guitars together. After the brief celebration, your team shook hands with the opposing team and went off to collect your things. You grabbed your duffle bag and turned, spotting Ted by himself with his crutches. Bill was packing the signs away in the car that Ted’s dad let them borrow.

You dropped your duffle bag in front of him and lifted him up in a crushing hug before gently placing him back down.

“You were most excellent today!” Ted said with a bright smile.

“And you were the most excellent cheerleader today,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Do I get a prize?”

“Um…” Ted frowned until he finally put two and two together. “Oh, yeah, totally!” He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, your teammates whooping as they passed.

#Ted Theodore Logan x Reader #Ted Logan x Reader #writersmonth2019 #Ted Logan imagines #Bill & Ted #Keanu Reeves Imagines #Keanu Reeves #Fluff #Insecure Ted #Soccer Reader #Ted's dad trying to actually be a dad??#Ted Theodore Logan #bill and ted's excellent adventure

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hopeisour4letteredword · 4 years

Text

look through your textbook (cause i’m history) ch1

Content warnings: implied/referenced domestic violence

Summary: After dropping out, Yuri’s life is a haze of working and trying not to lose his damn mind. Then he meets Estelle.

Read it here or check the notes for the link to AO3.

It’s late—too late, the community center isn’t supposed to be open at this hour—and there’s a crying young woman with blood on her face holding Yuri’s hand in both of her own.

Yuri really wishes he could say it’s the first and last time this will happen to him. Unfortunately, it’s neither.

“P-please,” the woman stammers. Tears streak down her cheeks, right through the abrasion that mars her cheekbone. Ouch. That must sting. “Please, I just—I can c-clean myself up, I just need a—a first aid kit and, and a place to spend the night—“

“This is a community center, not a shelter,” Yuri says, as gently as he can to soften the blow. Her lower lip trembles. “Hey, none of that. I can help with getting you cleaned up, and when you calm down a little bit we can think together about where to put you up for the night. Alright?”

“Th-thank you so much—“

Yuri waves his free hand dismissively. He fishes through his pockets for his keys so he can unlock the front door.

“Ladies first,” he says, using his captive hand to guide her inside. She sniffles valiantly, releasing his hand and inching inside the dark building. Yuri steps in after her, locking the door behind himself, and flicks on the lights. She flinches away from the sudden glare. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s n-not your fault.”

“The first aid kit is in the staff room. If you want, you can wait right here—”

“I’m sorry, I d-don’t want to be alone, s-sorry—“

“Hey, you’re fine, that’s cool. Come on, then.”

They troop through the main community room. Yuri kicks in chairs that didn’t get pushed all the way back to their tables at the end of the day. That’s what Hanks gets for letting Ted help close up for the night. At least the kiddie zone got picked up so they won’t slip on any errant toy trains. The young woman flinches with every creaky floorboard and groaning pipe. Poor lady. This isn’t exactly a new building. There’s a lot of those noises.

Yuri unlocks the staff room, and this time has the presence of mind to warn her, “Lights going on.”

“Thank you....”

“So what I need you to do for me is to sit down and try to keep your hair back while I patch you up. Sound good?”

“You don’t—don’t have to—“

“Yeah, but I’m gonna, so quit trying to tell me what to do. Hair back.”

She obediently sinks into one of the shitty folding chairs Hanks keeps in the staff room. Shaking fingers hold her pink hair away from her face. Yuri sits down on an adjacent chair and tries to touch the abrasion as little as possible while he moves away some stray strands that she missed. She trembles, but doesn’t make a peep.

“Okay, what I’ve got here is hydrogen peroxide—“ He shows her the bottle. “And I’m just gonna pour some onto these cotton pads and wipe your scrapes down with it. It’ll sting like a motherfucker, but then it’ll be over with.”

“O-okay.”

“Chin up. You got this.” He holds her face steady while he makes the first pass. She still jerks back so hard that he almost gets her in the eye with the soaked cotton pad. “Whoa there.”

“I’m s-so sorry—!”

“Shit happens. Ready for the next try?”

“Ye-yes....”

Her jaw clenches under his fingers. She whimpers a little when the pad touches her cheek, but doesn’t move. What a trooper.

“There you go. One more pass, okay? We don’t want shit stuck in there when it heals up.”

She nods, firmly, and barely winces with the last pass. Yuri tosses the bloody cotton into the trash and reaches back into the first aid kit.

“Any other scrapes?”

“My—my knuckles.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see ‘em.” Yuri swipes them down with one pass. They’re not nearly as bad as her face. “You know Neosporin?”

“N-no.”

“Really? Damn. Well, it’s just antibiotic goop. Shouldn’t hurt as much as the last stuff.” She watches as he spreads some onto a gauze pad. “I’m gonna tape this to your face. Little weird having tape on your face, but in my personal experience, better than having an open bloody wound.”

“Y-yuck.”

“That’s the spirit.” He carefully tapes the gauze in place. Luckily, the scrape isn’t too big. Plenty of room to put the tape down without catching her eyelashes or the hair framing her face. He pops open a box of finger bandages and goops up a few to patch over the worst of her knuckles. “All set. We have some pain meds here, too. Want any? I got ibuprofen, naproxen, Tylenol...”

“Can I... ibuprofen.”

“All yours.” Yuri slides her the bottle and rises from his chair to search the cabinets. Where’s the goddamn cups? Oh, hell, that’s right. Hanks moved all of the cups to the kitchen. There’s only mugs in the staff room now. He grabs a “#1 GRANDPA” mug. “Lemme get you some water for that.”

He passes it off to her. She slips a pill into her mouth and drinks it down. Both hands lock around the mug when she lowers it, and she stares down into the leftover water, trembling.

“You cold?”

“H-huh? Oh. Um. A little.”

Yuri opens and closes a few more cabinet doors before he finds Hanks’s old high school letterman jacket neatly folded and stashed. Evidently the blankets they used to keep in here have been relocated, too. “We’ve got this. Might smell a little like mothballs, though.”

“That’s—that’s fine.”

Yuri drapes the jacket over her shoulders. She hunkers down under it without putting her arms through the sleeves.

“Do you want, like. Tea? We got tea, I think. In the kitchen. Not sure what kinds. I’m not really a tea person. I’m a heathen, I drink black coffee because chugging bitter sludge makes me feel like a badass.” She makes a hiccupping noise that’s something like a laugh. “There we go. Feeling a little better?”

“Yes. Thank you—so much. Really.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you there.” He scratches at his chin. “I’m gonna need you to get a head start on thinking about where to spend the night. I have to remember why I came here in the first place.”

“Oh, no, I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” What did he come here for? He tips his head back, staring at the ceiling. He was home for the evening... bartending ended early tonight... he had already walked Repede... oh, shit. That’s right. “I’m going into the kitchen anyway, so seriously, do you want tea?”

“N-no, thank you.”

“Okay, your call.”

She still scrambles to her feet and follows him, so close that he keeps waiting for her to step on his heels. He’s not gonna be the jackass that tells her off, though.

“I just want to preface this by saying I’m an amateur chef, not a serial killer, and you can hold onto the knife until we go our separate ways if me having it freaks you out,” Yuri tells her, as he turns on the kitchen light. She gives him a horrified look, mouthing knife? He goes to the sink. The meat cleaver is exactly where he thought it would be. He can always trust Hanks and Ted to leave his good knives someplace where they rust and get covered in gross shit. He grabs a scrubber sponge and wipes it down, one side then the other, before drying it and bundling it into a dish cloth.

He offers the bundle to the young lady. She shakes her head, quickly. The mug is still tightly clasped in both hands.

“Why is y-your knife here?”

“I lent it to them,” Yuri says. “To the staff here, I mean. Well, I’m also staff, sometimes, but that’s not the point. They had a few whole chickens to prepare today, and someone made off with their old cleaver a couple weeks ago.”

“That was. Nice of you.”

“Sure, I guess.” Yuri tucks the knife bundle under one arm and leans back against the counter, considering her. Her hair is pulled back with an ornate clasp, aside from the bangs that drape over her abraded cheek. Under Hanks’s jacket, she’s wearing a fancy dress, something sleek and silky and blue that pools around her feet. It is, predictably, covered in dirt, dead leaves and grass stains up to knee-height. Her face is wan, with big, sad green eyes. A bruise is starting to mottle her cheek around the scrape. The very image of an abused socialite. “Can I get your name?”

“I’m...I’m Estellise.”

Yuri whistles. “That’s a mouthful.”

“I g-guess so.”

“How do you feel about ‘Estelle’?”

“Es...Estelle?” She perks up a bit. The moue of her lips twitches up just a little. “That’s nice. I like that.”

“Alright, sweet. So, Estelle. I’m Yuri. Do you want to tell me how you ended up here at one in the morning with your face all banged up?”

Estelle looks back down into the mug. “...Do I have to?”

“Nah.”

“Wha—I don’t?”

“Nope. It’s not really my business. I mean, I can make some pretty educated guesses, but you don’t technically need to tell me anything.”

“O-oh.”

“I can just straight-up ask what I really need to. You want me to take you to a domestic abuse women’s shelter?”

“I—“ The mug shakes in her hands. “I d-don’t count.”

“You don’t count?”

“It’s n-not like that. I c-couldn’t—I couldn’t take that space from someone who really n-needed it.”

Yuri sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Uh... I guess you would know your situation better than I would. How about... no offense, but I have no idea how old you are. Are you a very fancy teenager? Should I be thinking more along the lines of children’s shelters?”

“No. I’m eighteen.”

“God, you are a fancy teenager.”

She laughs a little, but it’s hysterical. “Y-yes.”

“I guess... shit. I’m just stuck on women’s shelters. You really don’t want to go? You sure? I can find a lady to drive you if you aren’t comfortable with—“

“N-no! It’s not you. Y-you’re fine.”

“Do you want...did you come here to find Hanks? I can call Hanks.”

“Who’s H-Hanks?”

“Oookay, that answers that question... Not gonna lie, I’m kind of confused about what you want.”

Estelle makes a miserable noise. “I am too.”

Yuri takes a hard look at her. The scrape on her face isn’t so bad she’s bleeding through the gauze right away, and her hands aren’t fucked up too badly. Definitely not a hospital situation. Poor girl probably doesn’t have the money on her to deal with the hospital right now, anyway. The way she’s acting, he’s pretty damn sure there’s some kind of abuse at play, but she doesn’t want to go to the women’s shelter. She’s too old for programs targeted at children. So what exactly is Yuri supposed to do with her?

...Fuck it. He’s tired, she’s tired, he’s overdue for his next scruffy stray. “Look, if you’re comfortable with it, you can come to my place for the night. I’ve got a one-bedroom, not a studio, so you can take the bedroom and lock me out if that makes you feel safer. I can sleep on the couch.”

“I c-couldn’t—!”

“Sure you could. I’ve slept on the couch for stupider reasons.”

“But—“

“If you’re scared, we can call somebody you trust and tell them where you are, so you’ve got witnesses if I decide to murder you.”

“I don’t think you’re going to murder me,” she says, scrunching up her nose at him and then wincing when it pulls at her cheek. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Okay, but I don’t care,” Yuri says. “So I don’t think it really counts as imposing. I’m going to text Hanks—he’s the director of the community center, by the way—that I have a very sad young lady staying at my apartment tonight, so that the next time you ask a total stranger for shelter, you think of that and remember to have some degree of self-preservation.”

“Y-you don’t have to—“

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, minor detail—are you allergic to dogs?”

As it turns out, Estelle is not allergic to dogs, but it’s possible that dogs are allergic to her.

“He’s like that sometimes,” Yuri says, absentmindedly, while Repede staunchly ignores Estelle’s attempts to make friends with him.

“He isn’t friendly?”

When Yuri glances over his shoulder, she’s staring back at him with sad, disappointed eyes. She kneels beside Repede on the floor, bundled into spare clothes Yuri dug out of the community center’s storage for her. Wearing second-hand clothes, making undignified kissy noises at his dog, she looks much younger than she did at the community center. The pouty face she’s making at Repede probably isn’t doing her any favors in the maturity department either.

“He’s not so hot about strangers. Seriously, don’t take it personally.” He gives the chicken soup one last stir. Cooking at 2AM isn’t his favorite, but it is, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence nonetheless. “Alright, there’s soup if you want any.”

She accepts a bowl, but waits until Yuri has his own. She watches and copies him as he lifts it to face-level, carefully blowing across the surface, and drinks some of the broth. He almost snorts some back up laughing when her eyes go wide, and she visibly tries to swish the hot broth around her mouth to cool it.

“You have to blow like you mean it.”

“I don’t want to spill!”

“Just don’t burn yourself.”

Yuri has a table, because he isn’t a complete disaster. He and Estelle stand around next to the stove anyway, slurping soup directly out of the bowls. When the broth-to-solids ratio declines enough, they break out the spoons.

“You’re a really good cook,” Estelle says, sounding wistful. “I wish I could make stuff like this.”

“Keep in touch with me when you get your feet back under you and maybe I can teach you someday.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Thank you!”

Once they’ve drained their bowls, Yuri does a lick-and-spit clean-up job on the kitchen while Estelle does a circuit of his living room, snooping through his stuff. He hears her pause over the rush of the tap and doesn’t think anything of it until she ventures to say, “Is... is this Flynn? Flynn Scifo?”

“Probably,” Yuri says. He cranks the faucet off and turns to see what she’s looking at. It’s the picture Coach Niren took of the two of them at their first fencing tournament. Yuri’s still got the last chub of baby fat rounding out his cheeks, and he’s laughing with delight over some stupid shit Flynn had said. Flynn grins back at him, gangly and awkward with adolescence. He has his arm thrown aroun d Yuri’s shoulders. He looks like a damn puppy; he still needs to grow into his limbs. Yuri would die before he told anybody, but it’s one of his favorite pictures. Flynn was grouchy as shit in high school. Every smile Yuri could wrangle out of him was a privilege. “Yeah, that’s Flynn. You know him?”

“Yes... He’s, um, a student of my guardian’s.”

“Your guardian works at the university, then?”

Estelle fidgets a bit, wringing her hands. “Yes....”

Yuri mentally stores her nervous response for later discussion. He can give her a break at ass o’ clock in the morning. “You and Flynn get on well?”

“Yes! He’s very well-read. We talk about books together.”

“Ah, nerd club. Of course. Sounds just like him.”

“Are you...” Estelle glances over at him. “You know, I didn’t think of it until I saw this picture, but I think he’s mentioned you. Yuri? You’re his best friend, aren’t you?”

Yuri doesn’t answer her for a moment because he’s too startled by the fact that Flynn is, apparently, still calling Yuri his best friend even though they haven’t seen each other in a year and almost got in a fistfight last time they ran into each other. Not that Yuri doesn’t also still consider Flynn his best friend, but, like. Standards, Flynn. Have some. “Huh. Yeah.”

A shy smile spreads over her face. “You’re just like he described you.”

“Oh, geez. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior from here out.”

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with your behavior.”

Yuri stares at her again. “...I think we’re having two different conversations. How does Flynn describe me? Because I assumed he told you I was a pain in the ass.”

“What? No! He said you’ve got a big heart and you always try to help others.”

This is too much for Yuri to deal with at 2AM in front of a stranger. Or friend of a friend, apparently. Dammit. It’s always Flynn.

“Well, um. He did also say you were trouble.”

Oh, thank God, stable ground. “That sounds more like it. Come on, I’ll lend you some pajamas. We should both get to sleep. In the morning—like the real morning, not the fake morning right now—we can go back to the community center and talk to Hanks about your options.”

A week later, Estelle is still in his apartment. Yuri thinks she’s starting to grow on him. Not like a fungus, because Estelle is one of the only people he’s ever met that he would wholeheartedly describe as lovely. Terribly naive, mind-bogglingly sheltered, but lovely. So maybe like some kind of nice moss or something? He’s lost the trail of this metaphor.

He has bartending in the evening, these days, but when he’s at the community center in the mornings he tries to give her his attention. She seems overwhelmed by all the things she needs to find solutions for: housing, income, banking, emergency medical care... At least a few of those, he can help with. Hanks is a bigger asset. He’s got a lifetime of experience with helping uprooted young adults. Yuri is happy to put Estelle up for as long as it takes them to sort her shit out.

Still, he does sort of wonder if he’s gotten ahead of himself when Hanks texts him asking to talk to him and Estelle in private at his house. Hanks is usually fine with having personal conversations at the community center. Whatever he has to say must be serious.

“Should we have brought him something?” Estelle asks, a little nervously. She’s wearing clothes loaned from one of Yuri’s coworkers with Hanks’s jacket thrown over them. The ol d man refused to take it back from her when they met, and she’s barely taken it off since. She throws herself into hand-me-downs with an eagerness Yuri wouldn’t have expected, given her clothes the night they met.

“What? No. Why would we bring him something?”

“Well, you’re supposed to give your host a gift when you visit someone, aren’t you? Like a bottle of wine?”

“I know you grew up in the fancy rich high society life or some shit, but this is the Lower Quarter, princess. We don’t have the money for that kind of etiquette here. The only ‘wine’ Hanks is getting is the kind that comes out of my mouth.”

Estelle laughs quietly as Yuri knocks on the door and then shoves it open without waiting for a response.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Hanks calls, gruffly. Yuri shepherds Estelle in the right direction. Hanks has his back to them as he puts the finishing touches on a couple bowls of salad.

“Wow, breaking out the fresh vegetables for us and everything.”

“Someone has to make sure you kids get vitamins,” Hanks says, without looking up. He offers one of the bowls to Estelle. She peers into it curiously. “Spinach, bacon, cucumbers, and cherry tomatoes. I’ve got salad dressing in the fridge if you want some.”

“Yes, please,” Estelle says. Hanks waves her toward the small kitchen table while he goes to the fridge.

“Both of you have a seat. Estelle, what kind of dressing do you want?”

“Um. I’ll have whatever Yuri’s having.”

“Don’t let Yuri be your role model for everything,” Hanks warns her, even as he passes her the Italian dressing. “He’s a troublemaker.”

“I think he’s nice,” Estelle mumbles.

“You poor, misguided soul,” Yuri says. He takes the bottle from her when she’s done. “Hanks, you needed something from us?”

Hanks eases himself down into a chair across from them, groaning the whole way. The stubborn old man is going to hurt himself one of these days if he doesn’t give in and get a cane. “I did. Well, there’s not really a good way to get into this. Here. Take a look.”

He takes a piece of paper out of his breast pocket and unfolds it, dropping it on the table in front of them. It’s a flyer, the kind small local businesses will have on community boards or that gets slapped up on light posts on the street. It reads:

MISSING PERSON: ESTELLISE SIDOS HEURASSEIN

LAST SEEN AT ZAPHIAS UNIVERSITY, NEAR MEDICAL SCHOOL

18 YEARS OLD; 5’5” TALL; PINK HAIR AND GREEN EYES

CONTACT ZPD [(XXX) XXX-XXXX] OR DEAN ALEXEI DINOIA [ [email protected] ] WITH INFORMATION. REWARD IF FOUND.

In the middle of the page is a poor-quality, grainy picture of Estelle. It’s water-stained, with the colors distorted so that her face is barely recognizable. Yuri’s not convinced he would recognize her if he didn’t already know who it was. The flyer must have been outside. Along the bottom are tear-off tabs with the police number and the Dean’s email on them. Yuri recognizes the domain; it’s the official university mail service, so it must be the Dean’s professional email. It seems like an odd choice for a missing person ad. Looks like a few tabs have been taken.

Yuri glances sideways at Estelle. She stares down at the flyer, pale and scared like Yuri hasn’t seen her since their first encounter. They just stopped gooping up the scrape, so it’s scabbing over now , and the bruising has turned a sickly green as it heals.

“I...” She swallows, hard, putting her fork down. “I don’t...”

“Listen,” Hanks says, with a sigh. “I’m not about to turn you in. I don’t think Yuri will, either.”

“Fuck, no.”

“But I can’t promise nobody in the Lower Quarter will. Folks here are hurting for cash. Someone who sees you at the community center might take them up on it, even if they aren’t proud of it, so they can put food on the table.”

“...Yes. I understand.”

Hanks scratches at his beard. “I guess all I’m askin’ is that you think about stopping by the police station yourself. I don’t want Yuri to get charged with kidnapping.”

That makes Estelle jerk her head up, eyes wide. “Yuri could get in trouble?”

“Sure. He’s been on the wrong side of the law before—“

“The tweedles deserved to get pushed into the canal, you know that—“

“I do, son, but the police still weren’t none too happy about it. They aren’t much fond of him, and now he’s got a missing person stashed in his apartment. Ain’t a hard case to make.”

“But he’s not making me stay there!”

Hanks shrugs. “They could argue coercion if they get a bee in their bonnet. That’s why I’m suggesting you stop by the police station yourself, to let them know that you left under your own will and you aren’t missing. It doesn’t mean you have to go back to your old life. The community’s happy to help you figure something else out, like we have been.”

Estelle wrings her hands under the table. She looks down at the flyer again.

“I don’t want to go back,” she says, voice small.

“I’m telling you, you don’t have to.”

“If I talk to the police, they’ll make me go back.”

“You’re eighteen,” Yuri says. “You can go wherever the hell you want. They can’t make you go back if you don’t want to.”

“Will you come with me? To the police station?”

“Probably not a good idea,” Hanks says. “Remember, we want to show them that you’re staying in the Lower Quarter under your own free will.”

“I can still drive you there and wait nearby, though,” Yuri says. “I’ll hang out in a parking lot or something. Just scream real loud and I’ll come grab you.”

“Don’t scream unless you have no other choice, the police don’t like that.”

“Who cares what the police like? If they try to mess with you, break their eardrums.”

“Yuri, for God’s sake, don’t get the poor girl in trouble.”

Estelle giggles a little, high and anxious. The smile slides back off her face quickly, though. “I can... can I still stay with you? After I talk to the police?”

“Sure.”

“Really? I promise I’ll—I’ll stop by the bank, and get a new account set up. Then I can try to find a job and pay you b—“

“Estelle, chill. There’s no rush.”

“But—!”

“We’ll get it sorted out. Might take a bit, but we’ll get you there. You don’t need to freak out.”

“I just—“ Estelle sniffles a bit. Oh, God, no. No crying. Please no more crying. Yuri is terrible at comforting people. “You’ve been so kind, both of you, and I haven’t even told you anything and you’re still helping me, and I feel so bad, and—“

Yuri fidgets with a lock of his own hair. “I mean. This isn’t exactly a huge mystery. You’ve got big bruises on your face and you don’t want to go back somewhere. I might not have a fancy education, but I can put two and two together.”

“I... I guess that’s...”

“We don’t really need more information than that. Anyway, you’re a friend of Flynn’s. He would kick my ass if he found out I didn’t look out for you.”

“But you offered to let me stay with you before you knew—“

Hanks reaches across the table to pat her shoulder. “Don’t bother, miss. Let Yuri believe the rest of us think he’s a tough guy. We all know he’s really a big softie.”

Yuri splutters indignantly. “Hey!”

“He climbs trees to get children’s cats down for them,” Hanks stage-whispers to Estelle. She giggles, more genuinely this time. Yuri would be pleased if it weren’t at his goddamn expense.

“One time! Was I just supposed to leave Ted’s cat stranded?! He had a broken leg!”

“One time? Son, you’ve done that twice in the last year.”

“Tell Ted to get a better cat! I swear, next time I’m leaving the damn thing up there.”

“Yesterday,” Estelle tells Hanks, solemnly, wiping a tear away from the corner of her eye, “He held two babies for a busy mom. At once.”

Hanks chortles. Yuri groans, aggrieved. “I changed my mind, you can’t stay with me. You’re a menace.”

“No, no. You’re right, we can’t risk Flynn’s wrath. The young lady is here to stay.”

Estelle catches Yuri’s eye again and gives him that small, shy smile again. Yuri shakes his head, fond despite himself. He returns a wry smile. Of course she’s staying. He never should have expected anything different. On some level, he thinks he didn’t.

“Alright, princess. I guess I’m stuck with you.”

“I’m in your care!”

#fluri #yuri lowell #Estellise Sidos Heurassein #tales of vesperia #Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In #flynn isnt here but yuri Pines #long post

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vesperione · 5 years

Text

My hot take on Sycamore High;

For those who don’t know it is tradition that whenever @oh-theatre posts a new chapter of Sycamore High I roast it. So let’s turn the tables around.

Things you need to know beforehand. I heavily headcanon as Paul with anxiety/aspergers. But this “chapter” is gonna focus on Paul and Emma, featuring my boy ted 😎

Tw: talks of suicide, homophobia

Word count: 1,824

Emma had only tried to do the right thing. She knew Paul’s sister was having issues, she knew Paul wasn’t getting enough sleep, she knew paul had anxiety. They’d been partners a few times by now and the fact he’s confessed that he likes her, like more than a friend likes, to her said a lot. But he was sleep deprived. And Emma feared it could turn into something more.

After the funeral passed, Paul found it harder to stay strong. He soaw teds mom as his second mother and she was fucking gone. And he didn’t know what to do. Nothing could cheer him up. He just felt...numb. Numb. That was hardly the word to describe it, but it was easier calling it “numb” than anything else. It was one particular day where Paul had to audition for the musical. Everyone else in that class did but it was different for Paul. Musicals bought up a very bad memory. He’d tried to enjoy them again but couldn’t. But while he was on stage auditioning in front of everyone, another one of their classmates had decided to throw some...questionable comments at him. It made him seize up and stop. The music kept playing. But he didn’t sing. He didn’t speak. He stayed still. He heard laughs around him but they became muffled. He zoned out as his breathing became ragged. He went extremely tense. And that’s when he realised it. He was being mocked. Everything snapped and he ran off stage, knocking the microphone stand over, an all-too-loud hiss ringing throughout the classroom as Paul ran backstage. He’d joined the class to get his confidence back up. Now he was never coming back again. He grabbed his bag and ran out of the classroom. The halls were empty, still. The pristine condition of the school left glimmering. That was about to change. In his mind, the school became distorted. The floors became wooden planks that showed bubbles of lava underneath them. The walls became fire. Everything around him turned to soot, burning and bubbling orange flames. He was hallucinating and he knew it. He reached what appeared to be his locker and struggled to get it open. He had to lean against it for safety as he shut his eyes. He felt around inside for his glasses. When he found them, he put them on and everything was back to normal again. His breathing was heavy. His heart rate was too quick.

He had to leave.

The bell for the next class sounded and he was shaking again. Shaking to the extent everything felt like liquid. The wrong step and he could drown. So he began running. Running through the halls. And then there was a hand on his shoulder. He stopped running and focused. Alice.

“Hey.” She said softly. “Professor Hidgens told me what happened okay?” Paul nodded, listening to his sister. “Come on you’re not in the right mind to be running around school. Let me take you to the nurses office-“

“I wanna go home.” He said. “I can’t stay here Alice don’t make me stay here moms gonna kill me if she finds out-“

“Paul Paul hey.” She smiled. “It’s lunch in an hour. I’ll take you home then okay?”

“Okay....”

“For now, lets get you somewhere safe.” So Paul let his sister drag him through the halls. This would be the last time he saw this school. He wasn’t coming back. Hopefully. But for now it would be the last time. He sat down on the couch in the medical bay as Alice explained what happened. Luckily it was Paul’s favourite nurse on shift today and she and him got along. She worked on the other students there and left him alone. Alone. He wanted to be alone forever. He hated everyone in this moment. He’d made a fool out of himself.

—————————

Emma and their friendship group had all cheered Paul on jokingly as he went to audition on stage. She hadn’t been able to see him the same way since he’d confessed. And she was still worried about him. He was doing an excellent job when another classmate shouted it. A slur. Emma clenched her fists around the side of the chair and tensed up, staring at the guy and then Paul. Paul Who...had frozen in place and was shaking, his lip quivering. “Uh....oh...” she heard Ted say. And then it got too much. With a bang the microphone fell. Emma plugged her ears as she watched Paul run away and couldn’t do anything. She watched ted shoot up and run backstage. And for some reason, Emma felt her heart snap.

A week after and Paul hadn’t come into school. She’d tried to ask Alice about it, but Alice had always come up with some late excuse and avoided the conversation. It was at the table when Charlotte had tried to message Paul only to find out she was blocked. That upset her a lot. “Next week he’ll be back.” She said with a smile. But he wasn’t. And he didn’t come the week after. The next sighting of Paul anyone had seen was when ted went around a month after the incident. He sat down at the dinner table the next day shaking slightly. Emma looked up at ted and so did everyone else.

“He’s alive.” Ted said and everyone smiled and cheered. But ted didn’t. “He’s alive. But he’s not in a good state. His mom says he hasn’t moved since he got home last month. He either only sleeps or doesn’t sleep at all. I’ve never seen it affect him this badly before...”

“What affect him?” Emma asks. Ted shook his head.

“Not my time or place to say. He didn’t want anyone to know. Me and bill just guessed it” Emma stood up.

“I’m gonna go and see him.”

“No! Emma that’s a bad idea you can’t-“

“Why not? Nothings stopping me!”

“Emma just trust me!” Ted pleased. “Don’t. Go and see him.” He insisted. She sat back down and sighed.

“I just wanna know if he’ll ever be okay again.” Charlotte pulled Emma into a hug.

“We all do, em. We all do.”

——————

It was a shock when ted came to visit him, but out of his friends, he was thankful it was ted.

“Go away” he mumbled, unable to speak louder.

“Paul, bud, I’m worried. We all are. Where have you been?”

“Here.” He said. “Haven’t moved. What’s the point. I’m gonna stay here until I die. That’s what everyone wants.”

“No, Paul. It isn’t. We want you to stay alive!”

“Well I don’t.” The words slipped out effortlessly but he meant them. He felt the bed shift uncomfortably as Paul continued staring at the wall.

“Tell me you don’t mean it.”

“No im 100% sure. I say what I say and I mean it every time.” He heard ted sigh again. “Look, I’m sorry but I can’t stay! I don’t want a future!”

“Why not? You have so much to live for!”

“Like what?”

“Like me, like Bill, like Alice...like Emma-“

“Get out.” Even though he was still mumbling, Paul’s tone was ferocious.

“I-“

“Get out!” So broken, Ted left. When ted attempted to message Paul that evening, he found he was blocked too. Everyone in his friendship group was being blocked. This was happening and it was happening now.

———

“Paul?” Emma asked, her voice fragile over the phone. “Paul tell me you’re there.” Silence. “Paul please I need to know you okay-“

“Have I ever been okay.” A small smile formed on Emma’s face even though it shouldn’t. “I mean it’s not as if my other mother figure died and I had a homophobic slur thrown at me while I was trying to get my confidence back by doing something that embarrassed me the most.”

“Paul I-“

“Don’t say anything. Let it sink in. Now, are you frightened? Because I sure as hell aren’t.”

“Paul stop it!”

“You’ve said my name 4 times what’s wrong.”

“You! You’re what’s wrong I’m fucking worried!”

“Don’t be. I’ll die and everything will be fine-“

“Stop it!” She said tears in her eyes beginning to form. “Please I want you to get better. Alice won’t talk to me. I need to know if you’re ever gonna survive.”

“Probably not.”

“Please I need you I-I can’t let you die not when I know...things...”

“What....things.”

A beat. A sigh. “You said you loved me and I never thought my crush could ever love me back.”

“Oh. Well. In that case that changes everything.”

“Really?”

“No. I’m sorry but this is me now. We can’t be together. We can’t. Not when I’m on my way to death-“

“Stop.”

“Sorry but it’s true. Good bye, Emma. Hope to see you in heaven rather than hell.” And hung up. He’d blocked her after the call as well. Emma was their last chance to get Paul back. And he was gone. Or was he? Not letting tears fall, she ran out of her room and downstairs.

“I’m going out.” And out she went. Out to save her best friend, her crush, whoever Paul was to her at this point.

—————

A knock at the door. “Fuck off!” Paul shouted but the door opened anyways. He didn’t move from facing the wall. It’s all he ever did. Face the wall. His entire left side had gone numb. Numb. Just like him. Footsteps approached him. “Whoever you are leave.”

“No.” The voice spoke. “No im not leaving. I was told earlier today not to come here and I see why. But I’m here now and I can’t lose you.”

“You can and you will.” A slap to the face.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” Emma apologised as Paul lifted his hand to his cheek. “Oh my god Paul I-“

“Shut up, Emma.” He sighed. He rolled over, wincing to meet her watery eyes. “Why are you here.”

“For you. I can’t just let you die knowing what I know now.” She said as she took his hand gently. “Please Paul. I want to date you. So so badly. I want to help you get back on your feet. Please?” He looked up. God she was persuasive. He didn’t realise how much pain he’d caused until Emma was sitting by him holding his hand.

“I’m sorry.” He said, moving his eyes to look at the ceiling. Emma laughed slightly.

“Dumbass come here.” She said and pulled him into a light hug. “I’m gonna kick their asses. I’m gonna get Paul back. And then maybe we can go on a date?”

“Emma were pretty much already dating.” Emma looked like she was thrown back by what Paul said. He looked back at her. “I’m just saying what’s true.”

“Paul?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me you’ll let me help you get better. You’ve missed so much I’ve been so worried-“

“Yes.”

#consjderthecoconut #the guy who didnt like musicals #tgwdlm #emma perkins #paul matthews #paulkins #starkid #the guy who didnt like musicals fanfiction #tgwdlm fanfiction #ted

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cynicalkairos · 5 years

Text

Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting

CHAPTER ONE

Series Summary: Still early in their relationship, Ted and Henry experience another of their first times, only this time is not as pretty as previous firsts. This is the tale of their first fight. Prepare for the angst.

Chapter Summary: Everything seems normal, right? Wrong.

Warnings: Language, Arguing, General yelling, lots of anger, and self-destruction

Word Count: 1074

A/N: Title from Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting by Elton John. This was supposed to be shorter, but look where we are. I wrote some Tedgens angst, but hey, there’s some Paulkins cuteness (briefly. this is an angst fic). Don’t worry, there be some fluff later, but nOT TODAY! More chapters will be up at later times. I just wanted some angst, but like in moderation cause I love y’all too much for that.

Previous || Next

As normal as living through the apocalypse can be, this morning seemed to be the epitome of it. The sun poured through the window and caused Emma to stir. Blinking her eyes at the brightness of the surroundings, she looked beside her and noticed that Paul was still asleep. She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before leaving the warmth of the bed.

Emma then padded toward the bathroom in a slow trek across the room as to not disturb Paul and partially out of her still sleepy state. Upon entry, she moved to the mirror and evaluated herself. Her hair was in somewhat of decent shape and it’s not like she was going anywhere, so decided to put her hair up in her signature style and proceeded to the shower. After she finished and brushed her teeth, she went back into the bedroom. She changed and thought to herself about how normal the day began.

Until she went downstairs.

From about halfway down the stairs, she could hear arguing coming from the kitchen. Usually, the mornings were mostly silent as almost no one, except the professor and herself, were morning people. However, there was evidently some commotion happening in the kitchen.

“You should be thanking me for getting rid of that shit! It was disgusting!” Ted yelled, flinging his arms up in the air in frustration.

Emma couldn’t say that she was surprised that Ted was arguing with someone, but she was surprised when she discovered that the opposing force was Henry. As far as she remembered, even in the most irritating situations or when dealing with the worst students, she had never seen him as livid in her life. He was always was the one who kept a cool head and used logic to ease the other person.

This Henry was unexpected. She could tell that he was not just frustrated but agitated as well. His face was entirely red and his hands were balled into fists so tight that his knuckles were turning white. Emma also could not forget the look of pure hurt in his eyes. She sensed that Henry did not want to argue with Ted, but his partner was persistent and Henry was dramatic. And both were too prideful to let the other win.

“That ‘piece of shit’ that you so kindly discarded of took me ages of exploration into the town to obtain,” Henry responded with a tone that permeated sarcasm.

“Yeah? For what?” Ted moved his hands until there was little space between them. “One tiny piece of goo?”

“How many times do I need to explain this to you? I needed that specimen to work on the cure for the--”

“You mean, the cure that you’ve worked on for weeks with no progress?” Ted interrupted and stared blankly into Henry’s eyes. “Because, the way I see it, it’s doing jack shit to improve anything!”

Henry opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Emma watched as his eyes shifted from the previous sadness to anger. In a quick moment, before she could stop him, Henry pushed himself away from the counter and moved closer to Ted, while saying, “At least I’m trying to do something, Ted! From what I recall, all you—” He jabbed a finger into Ted’s chest. “—do is sleep, drink, and bother me. I work my ass off trying to develop a way to stop the fucking world from succumbing to those aliens! Hell, I went back out there and risked my life to get that ‘piece of shit’ that you took it upon yourself to dispose of. So, don’t you dare tell me that I don’t do anything for you or anyone else for that matter!”

Silence.

No one bothered to move a single inch. Emma wanted to interfere and stopped the whole situation, but the coffee maker signaled that the coffee finished brewing and Ted looked at the machine. He walked over and grabbed his mug of coffee, turning back to Henry, adopting an eerily calm tone. “Well, don’t mind me. I’m just going to do what I do best while you shove that fucking tree further up your ass.”

As Ted walked past him, Henry turned and moved to follow him, all anger removed from his features and replaced with regret and sadness. “Ted, wait—”

“No, I don’t want to bother you anymore.”

With those words, Ted stormed off upstairs to anywhere but where he knew that Henry would be. Henry’s eyes watched him the entire way, wanting to say something without the ability to do so. Tears began streaming down his face and he slammed his clenched fist into the countertop next to him with full force, two distinct and clear snaps resounding from the collision. He cradled his hand with the other rapidly, as his face displayed a mixture of emotional and physical pain.

Emma was stunned and could not move to help. The shock from the argument and Henry’s consequent actions rendered her speechless. It wasn’t until the professor turned around that he noticed Emma was even in the room. Emma gasped and felt her heart shatter when she saw Henry’s state of complete agony in his face, his eyes, and his entire body. When he saw her, he straightened his back and tried to clean himself up, accidentally hitting his hands against the counter again. Pretending everything was fine, he said, “Emma, I didn’t see you there. Would you like some—”

“Cut the crap, Hidgens,” Emma interrupted. “I saw everything.”

Henry stopped talking and sighed, his physical state once more reflecting his emotional one. Emma walked over and pulled him into a hug, standing on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck comfortingly. Henry froze momentarily and then gingerly returned the hug. He placed his head on her shoulder and quietly cursed when the sobs overcame him.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” she reassured him, before removing herself from his arms. “Let’s go fix up your hand.”

“No, no, I assure you I can fix it myself, Emma.”

“I know you can, but it was a statement, not a question.”

Henry sighed and relented, too much so in pain to fight back. When they turned to leave, a very confused and drowsy Paul stood in the way. He looked between Henry’s teary and red face, Henry’s badly fucked up hand, and Emma, before saying, “What did I miss?”

———

A/N: Hope y’all liked it! Again, this is another idea I wrote instead of sleeping (and edited the next day).

I’m sorry, Hidgens, but somebody’s gotta do it. And I had to do it to ‘em.

If you have any questions or anything you want to see, let me know. I’m down with mostly anything.

#tedgens #professor hidgens x ted #paulkins #paul matthews x emma perkins #professor hidgens #henry hidgens #ted richards #paul matthews #emma perkins #angst #starkid #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #tw: cursing #tw: yelling #tw: violence #tw: self destruction #snaff tedgens

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honestlysuchamess · 6 years

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The Script - Scene 1

The Script

Summary: Shawn stars in the hot new TV spin-off of the Harry Potter series. It’s all there - wizardry, teenage romance, drama, and humor. But falling in love with his co-star? So not in the script.

Season 4, episode 4 (Unreleased)

I was going to die.

I was sure of it.

The stone wall was rough against my back. Maddy’s lifeless head rested against the curve of my collarbone, her body cradled in my lap. My arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, the other hand cupping her neck as my thumb ghostly over her jawline, leaving sticky red fingerprints against her skin. Whether it was her blood or mine, I couldn’t tell.

God, there was so much blood. The coppery smell tainted my nose every time I inhaled.

Hers or mine?

Mostly hers.

But I was desperately trying to ignore the fact that my part of my femur was sticking out of my leg.

“Maddy.” I whispered brokenly, closing my eyes and pressing my chapped lips to her hair. “Please don’t leave me.”

I could barely hear the shouts and screams now. The war seemed far away; the fighting had moved onwards. Or maybe that was just my busted eardrum.

We were winning?

The good guys always won. We had to be winning.

But right now, gripping my best friend and the love of my life – not that she knew, of course – as she lay dying, it didn’t feel like winning.

“I am… so, so, sorry..” I choked out, trying unsuccessfully to swallow the thick lump centered in my throat. The corners of my eyes prickled with tears.

That all-too-familiar wave of hopelessness washed over me. I clenched my teeth in frustration, remembering briefly how hopelessness and doubt used to be a stranger to me. God, that life I led – that Maddy and I had both led – even just a couple months ago, seemed so far out of reach.

How had we fallen so far?

The corners of vision began to darken, and I felt the excruciating pain of my broken leg finally catching up to me.

I fell into the abyss.

Yeah.

Didn’t feel like winning at all.

-------------------

“CUT.”

I blinked my eyes open and was immediately blinded by the set lights flashing on. Giving an irritated grunt, I raised my hand to block out some of the brightness.

I could feel Sebastian’s consciousness slip away.

“Gah.” A voice grumbled against my chest. I looked down, meeting the annoyed gaze of my co-star. “Those damned lights. Every fucking time.”

I gave a soft chuckle, my lips widening into a smile. Faye was irresistibly funny like that. “We should tell them off.” I offered, reluctantly releasing my grip on her and carefully untangling my hand from her hair.

“Ted would have a heart attack if he thought we were unhappy.” She teased back, sliding from my lap to sit down next to me.

I immediately missed her warmth.

“He sure would.” I agreed.

I glanced across the set, where Ted stood surrounded by the set staff. His hair was messy, a sure sign he was either frustrated or pissed, and judging by the color in his cheeks and the way his hands were gesturing wildly, I opted for the later.

“Ted looks angry.” I murmured, shifting slightly before drawing my ‘unbroken’ leg up to my chest and resting my elbow on my knee.

Faye followed my gaze before she snorted, unsurprised. “Ted’s always angry.”

Ted was our ‘brilliant’. While his work always turned out extraordinary (our show had been nominated for Emmys almost every year), his day-to-day directing methods were a little… unusual. Lucky for Faye and I, his golden rule was always something along the lines of “keep the actors happy”, so his mood swings and normal displeasure were never directed towards us.

I searched the cluster for a specific face. I spotted him, standing slightly away from the grouping staff. His nose was scrunched, his thick eyebrows pulled downwards as he frowned. Apparently Benji wasn’t happy either.

Benji was our completing one-third; His character that completed our golden trio. His real name was Faris (pronounced FAR IS) but nobody I knew called him that. Something about his character’s nickname had stuck, so that’s what we called him.

“EVERYBODY TAKE FIVE.” Ted bellowed, storming towards the exit. The staff behind him looked thoroughly disgruntled, but slowly began to disperse.

Benji headed in our direction, picking his way cautiously through the rubble that was our ruined castle set. He sat down rather ungracefully next to me.

“Why’d Ted fly off the handle this time?” Faye asked. She was picking at her split ends – that is, if she had any split ends. I knew for a fact she didn’t, but she still reverted to the habit when she was bored.

Benji shrugged. “Scene doesn’t feel right. Normal stuff. I think he’s gone to call up Joanne again.”

Faye threw a rock, watching it bounce harmlessly off the tiled floor. She heaved a frustrated sigh, leaning her head back against the wall.

My hand slipped from my lap, finding hers. I gave a gentle squeeze, before pulling away.

Benji absentmindedly picked at his blue and cranberry sweater. “I know guys. We just have to trust him. He’s never let us down before. The stakes for this season are higher than ever.”

“As opposed to, you know, all the high stakes of the previous three seasons.” Faye muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“We’ve spent days on this exact scene.” I said, carefully trying not to let my annoyance color my voice.

It was getting harder and harder to slip into Sebastian’s head. I was becoming worried.

“It’s an uphill climb from here. We’ve barely started the battle storyline, much less filmed any of the action sequences. Who knows how long that is going to take.” She grimaced.

“Studio’s put us on a three-month time crunch.”

“Seriously? They expect everything to be done in three months?” I asked, incredulous.

No wonder Ted was throwing a fit. I wondered when they had told him. I tried recalling his rants from the past week, noting that most of them seemed to blend together as I surfaced with nothing.

“Just for filming I think. Can you blame them? The fans have been waiting for this season for over a year now.”

Benji always was the rational one.

A door slam signaled Ted’s apparent return. Whatever his spoke about with J.K Rowling seemed to have soothed him. He was calmer, the angry look had faded, and the tension he carried lessened. He motioned to us as he returned to behind the camera.

“From the top again please, Shawn and Faye.”

“Here we go again.” Faye said, as she hauled herself back into my lap as Benji got up to remove himself from the scene. My arms instinctively snaked around her, gently pressing her to me. My hand traced the delicate curvature of her spine as it found its’ way to her neck.

She closed her eyes, letting her body go limp against mine.

I inhaled deeply, following her lead by closing my eyes as I delved back into my mind, seeking Sebastian’s persona.

“Scene #42, Take #108.”

The snap of the clapperboard. The release of breath.

Sebastian’s thoughts and memories overriding my own. Ilvermorny materialized in front of me.

“ACTION.”

#shawn mendes fic #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes writing

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matrixaffiliate · 5 years

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Salient

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

See you back on January 18th.

Chapter 23

Al was surprised how calm he felt as Ellie finished getting ready to go. She fastened the necklace holster her dad had made her and slid her wand in it.

"You're staring, love." Ellie turned to look at him.

"You have that effect on me," Al moved to stand next to her in his small bathroom.

"You're rather captivating as well," she smiled up at him.

Al pulled her to him and let himself enjoy holding her as her arms slid around his waist. He should be nervous, panicked even, stress cleaning every square inch of his flat, but somewhere along his journey with Ellie, Al realized he was changing, he was a different person than when he first met El, a better man.

"Care to meet my sisters?"

Ellie grinned, "I've always wanted sisters."

Al laughed, "Lily will love you. That's all she's ever wanted too."

They stepped through the grate and into Al's childhood home.

"She's here! She's here! She's here!"

Al rolled his eyes as Lily came sliding on her socked feet into the sitting room. She'd been out of Hogwarts nearly a year but he still couldn't wrap his head around how a woman stood where his baby sister had been before.

"El, this is my little sister, Lily. Lils, this is my girlfriend, Ellie."

Ellie held out her hand to Lily who promptly knocked it away to hug her.

"Has Al told you how much I love new sisters?"

Ellie blushed, "He did mention you always wanted sisters."

"Be nice Lils," Al pulled Ellie back to him. Then he gave Lily a pointed look. "We should talk, you haven't responded to my letters."

Lily didn't meet his eye, "Been busy."

"We'll talk," Al smiled at her.

Ever since Lorcan had called off his relationship with Lily just before they finished school she'd been distant, and while Al was easily distracted, he was not completely oblivious to how far away Lily had pulled herself.

Al led Ellie to the back garden where he was sure everyone would be. It was his mum's favorite place to entertain.

Al turned to talk to Ellie when a squeal interrupted him and little hands were pulling on his jeans.

"Hey, buddy!" Al scooped up his nephew. "El, this is my nephew, Johnny. He's Teddy's boy."

Johnny looked critically at Ellie before his eyes fell on her wand hanging around her neck. His hair started to turn white as he dove for it with outstretched hands.

"He's a Metamorphmagus?" Ellie's eyes were the size of saucers as Al pulled his nephew out of reach.

"Just like his father and grandmother," Vic came walking in from the back garden. "You must be Ellie. I'm Teddy's wife, Victoire. It's nice to finally meet you."

Ellie took Vic's proffered hand and smiled, "You too. I've heard a bit about everyone from Harry and Ginny, but meeting you all is much nicer."

Vic laughed as Johnny's eyes went green to match Al's. "We're a right crazy lot, but we do try to save some face."

"Speak for yourself," Jamie called out from the patio.

"Let's go introduce everyone to you," Al shifted Johnny in his arms and took El's hand.

On the patio, they found Jamie and Allie stretched out on a blanket on the lawn, Harry, and Teddy at the grill, and Ginny orchestrating the rest of the dishes as they floated out the kitchen window and onto the set table.

"Ellie!" Ginny held out her arms and Ellie immediately moved to hug her.

"Everyone, this is Ellie," Ginny turned to her family. "I'm quite fond of her so be nice."

"You remember Ted and Jamie," Al stepped up beside Ellie to hug his mum. "This is Allie, Jamie's fiance."

Allie smiled and pushed her dark blonde hair over her shoulder as she stood from the blanket. "I'm so glad to meet you. You had Jamie completely flabbergasted at wearing your wand in your hair. He didn't stop talking about it the whole day."

El laughed as she shook Allie's hand. "I was pretty put out when I got my wand and it was so short in comparison to my dad's. So he and my grandma tried to find ways to help me feel better, and Grandma had the idea of giving me ways to wear my wand like jewelry."

"I think the necklace is a great option," Allie nodded to El's wand before sliding Johnny from Al's arms before he realized it.

"Hey!" Al reached back for his nephew but Allie jumped away.

"Don't interfere, Al," his mum smiled at Johnny as Allie set him between her and Jamie. "I'm hoping this will encourage then to have kids sooner. I want more grandchildren."

"Give them time, Gin," Harry chuckled as he turned off the grill. "They aren't even married yet."

Ginny winked at him and Al shook his head with a chuckle.

"So, Ellie," Jamie tickled Johnny's cheeks as he spoke, "Tell us what it's like growing up in Canada."

And that more or less created the exact situation Al had hoped for. His siblings listened captivated as Ellie shared stories about growing up in St. John's, and by the time dinner was finished it felt like Ellie had been around for as long as Vic and Allie had.

Al noticed Lily quietly excuse herself and slip into the house. He waited a few moments before squeezing El's hand and following after his baby sister.

"I'm fine, Al." Lily's voice sounded from the kitchen.

"No, I don't think you are." Al loved Lily, but her determination to put on a good face no matter what was getting tiresome.

"Al, you've been gone for nearly three years, I've changed from what you remember." Lily started the dishes.

"Yeah, you have," Al chuckled at how different Lily looked from what he remembered when he finished Hogwarts. "But I've changed too, and I'm working to be outside of myself more. Which means I'm noticing that you aren't fine."

Lily ignored him as she fussed with the dishes.

Al pulled out his wand and started drying and putting the dishes away as they came out of the rinse water.

"It's alright to be hurt."

"I'm fine, Al." Her voice was tight and Al knew he was making progress.

"You know, Ellie talks about letting the bad things that happen to us be a part of what makes us more compassionate in the future."

Lily clenched her jaw and Al kept going. She needed to break out of this lie that it didn't matter. She needed to let it matter, if only for a few moments before she could move on.

If he'd learned anything from El, it was that the emotions he felt mattered, and what he did with them mattered more.

"And part of developing that compassion is being able to forgive so you can move forward unburdened."

"Forgive?" She screeched at him.

Al felt relief, he'd managed to get her to stop hiding.

"You expect me to forgive him for planning a life with me and then weeks before all those plans are supposed to become a reality to take it all back? Forgive him for saying he didn't think he ever really loved me? Are you insane?!"

Al chuckled, "There is potential that I'm insane, but I'm telling you because forgiveness was what Teddy shoved down my throat when Jamie and I were having our falling out, and..."

"That's completely different!" She cut him off. "You're brothers, you had to fix things so you didn't wreck our family."

"No, Lils," Al pulled her down to the kitchen table and stopped their dishwashing line. "We had to forgive each other so we didn't wreck ourselves. Lorcan has no clue how long you're harboring this grudge, and it's only hurting you. He's living his life. He's doing the things he wants to do. And what are you doing Lily?"

She looked down at the table and shook her head.

"Hating him is only hurting you. I'm not saying anything he did was right. And trust me, if you'd told me what happened when it was actually happening I probably would have hexed him and taken Aunt Luna's wrath for it. Don't pretend like what he did was alright, but stop hurting yourself over it. Forgive him for you. Forgive him so you can move on. Forgive him because you love yourself more than you thought you loved him."

And then it was as though his baby sister was suddenly back, clinging to him as she cried about scraped knees and broken toys. Al held Lily, grateful to finally see some emotion back in his fiery little sister. She'd be alright, he was sure of that now as she let all the emotions run through her tears.

"Thank you," she sniffed before conjuring a handkerchief. "I really needed you to say all that."

"That's what big brothers are for."

"No, that's your specific specialty," Lily gave him a small smile. "You've always been the one to call me out. Teddy always wants to give me time to come around on my own, and Jamie wants to make me feel better with fun and jokes, but you are the one who comes in, wands blazing, and lays it all out on the table for me to see."

She wiped her eyes again, "Thank you."

"I love you, Lils, and I want to see you happy." Al rubbed her shoulder and smiled. "Now let's finish these dishes so we can make Mum bring out dessert."

"There's a reason you're my favorite," Lily grinned.

"You say that to all three of us." Al rolled his eyes.

Lily stuck her tongue out at him, "And it's true every time I say it."

Al let the conversation move to happier things as the finished the dishes. He hugged Lily once more before they returned to the back garden and claiming a spot next to El on Jamie and Allie's blanket.

"You're a good brother," Ellie said it quietly as Jamie told a story from work.

Al smiled at where Lily sat with their mum and dad, "She's a good sister."

"It'll make you a good father."

She said it with such nonchalance that Al wondered if he'd imagined it as the words rendered him unable to speak. But while they were terrifying words, they were also emboldening words.

He placed a small kiss on her cheek. He wanted to be a good father, with a very specific woman by his side.

#Salient #albus x eliza #albus severus x oc #al x ellie #albus severus potter x oc #albus severus potter x eliza battiste #Canadian OC #Native American OC #not cursed child compliant!#making technology work with magic #al goes to muggle university #romance #fluff #next gen fanfic #next generation #harry potter fanfiction

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