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padfootdaredmetoo · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! I'm not much to ask for but I've been looking forward to one of Tommy Shelby with reader as part of the marauders as well with some magical action and muggle, I hope it's no problem. Thank you!

Thank you for this request!!! I had so much fun with it!!! Really hope you enjoy!!! ♥️

Rated Adult?: Reader is physically attacked by older boys, brief mentions of consensual sex.

Might go back and add more adventures to their time at Hogwarts but I'm not sure yet!

Hogwarts was a magical place, and it was slowly becoming more and more dangerous. You’d fallen in with a group of girls on your first night in the dormitories, and now even three years later you were still inseparable, which was a blessing as things were starting to become quite tense between muggles and pure bloods.

You’d come from a muggle family that came with a fair chunk of drama. They were good people but they were very disappointed that you’d not been what they’d wanted. Thoughts that often swirled in your head when everyone else was fast asleep.

Nights like that are what lead to the beginnings of a friendship with a boy in your house that felt very similar. Sirius Black, and then shortly after his group of friends.

Lily was a bit sour over the friendship once it became more evident, but the rest of your second family came along eventually.

All in all you’d felt very safe, there wasn't anything you’d not do for the people in your second family. There was plenty of garbage that circulated about muggle born students but nothing ever seemed to touch you. You and your friends became quite popular. Lots of pranks pulled off, never ending circulation of contraband throughout the student body.

Lots of students found their problems solved, or found protection in the gangs that prowled the school.

There were your friends, but also three other notable gangs.

The Peaky Blinders, led by Thomas Shelby and his various brothers all of which shared the Slytherin House with Alfie Solomons and his crew, and the unfortunate pure blood extremists that were throughout the school but seemingly concentrated there.

There was a strong alliance between the three of them, despite you being naturally distrusting of anyone outside your little group. There was enough tension, drama, and on goings that you never needed to stray any further. But you were friendly with everyone you met.

Until you weren't.

A particularly awful full moon had kept you lying awake in your four poster bed. You looked up at the ceiling thinking about your life. With things getting worse in the world you really weren't sure how you were going to make it out there. Out beyond the castle walls there were no gangs, no people in the halls just begging for an excuse to beat the shite out of someone for being horrible to you.

Eventually the sun was getting ready to peak out over the mountains that surrounded the school. You rolled out of bed tossing a wool jumper over your pj top and jammed your feet into your slippers.

The hallways were empty at this hour which was nice and gave you time to enjoy the feeling of the space. You kept alert for stray professors and made your way towards the hospital wing.

The sound of incoming footsteps had you ducking behind a statue. You recognized three 7th year boys from the Ravenclaw house. You couldn’t name them and hoped they wouldn't cause you any trouble.

Suddenly a hand came down on your shoulder causing you to jump.

“Look at what I’ve found.” A fourth boy sneered. “Guess initiation won’t be as difficult as I’d thought.”

You pushed his hand off of you.

“I’m expected in the hospital wing so I’ll be leaving now.” You hoped that saying a teacher was expecting you was enough for them to leave you alone. You didn't want to know what their initiation was, you didn't want to have to defend yourself, you just wanted to check on your friends.

He just laughed calling out your lie.

“Maybe we should let her go?” One of the boys commented nervously. “They’ll be murderous if we bother her.”

“That's the fucking point. We need to send a message. No one is better to do it than her.” the other boy snapped.

He went to raise his wand and out of instinct you’d frozen him with a spell Remus had taught you. You turned on the second boy doing the same but by that time the last two boys had sent your wand sailing across the hallway. The boy’s hands pushed you against the statue then started to roam over your body. You tried to push his hands away but your arms were unmovable.

“Come on we didn't come here for that.” The other boy said, looking scared.

“Don't see why we can't have a little fun first.” He smiled and your whole body tensed. “Make yourself useful and get the others sorted”

Before he could do anything further you heard a voice call out a spell you hadn't heard before. The boy in front of you crumpled before you blood seeping out of his body. You desperately tried to move but still you were stuck there.

The other boy met the same fate and your eyes looked up to see a very angry looking Thomas Shelby glaring down at you. He muttered a spell that set you free and you tried to talk to him but your body was shaking, mouth dry.

He handed you your wand and helped you stand up, your knees almost gave way so he held you to his side.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Kitchens.” You lied looking up into his blue eyes. You should be thinking about what happened, but it was much easier to notice the solidness of his body and the way he smelled.

You cleared your throat and found your footing.

“I was on my way to grab something from the kitchens. And I got stopped-” You took a deep breath.

“Well you did a number on the two of them, that sticking spell is stronger than most.” He said and you noticed that his accent was different than the usual ones you heard.

“And the other two?” You swallowed hard.

“Just superficial for now” You shivered at his words.

“Well. let's get on then eh?” He held his arm out to you and you accepted it.

He led you down to the kitchens and you tried desperately to come up with a solid reason for wanting to go down.

“I’m surprised Alfie was going to let you down.” You mentally kicked yourself forgetting that Alfie had ownership of the kitchens as he brought most of his contraband through there. He was the only one who’d managed to secure a loyalty with the elves that went above their relationship with Dumbledore. As if sensing the unease running through you he let out a small laugh.

“He owes me a favour.” He winked at you and your face heated up.

“Guess I owe you two favors now then?” Everything came with a cost when dealing with outsiders.

“I guess so.” It should scare you, but it didn't. You and Lily were the only two that didn't get involved in the on goings between the gangs. Marlene was going to have a bird when she found out about this.

You had toast with hot chocolate and he questioned you about your reasoning behind sneaking into the kitchens on a Saturday morning. You blurted out that you couldn't sleep which led to him asking more questions. You knew deep down anything you told him was to be passed through the rest of the Peaky Blinders and used as leverage if anything were to turn sour between the groups. But you couldn't stop yourself.

He told you about his family and how he was part gypsy a little known fact that was often held against him. Gypsy magic was different and he explained about his Aunt Poll and the things they learnt at home.

You’d given a lot of yourself away, but he’d matched it with his own secrets leading you to think that you might have found a friendship with him. Something in the pit of your stomach told you it was a great deal more than friendship, but you’d decided to panic about that later.

The morning passed and he insisted on seeing you to the common room.

“Ah alright then” You agreed knowing there was no unsuspicious way to shake him off.

“Unless you need to go to the hospital wing?” He said with a knowing voice. You froze. “Not to visit your friends but because of the trauma of what happened earlier of course?”

You shot him a look as panic cemented in your stomach, how on earth would he know about Remus.

“No need to hex me, We grant them passage every full moon.” He whispered he took your arm again and took you through to the hospital wing.

“You won't tell anyone?” you whispered once you’d gotten to the doors.

“About Remus? Or Earlier?”

“Remus.” He gave you a strange searching look.

“No, I quite like him” he said stiffly and you let out a sigh of relief.

“What are we to do about earlier?”

“We are not going to do anything. I will deal with it later.”

“Thank you” You whispered to him. He slipped a small, smooth, black, stone into your hand.

“If you're upset about it later just rub the stone, I’ll meet you by your common room” Before you could respond he guided you past the hospital wing doors. Remus was out cold but the other boys sat up from their chairs seeing Tommy there with you.

“We’ve got things to discuss. I’ll be expecting you in the usual place at 8 tonight.” He said in a cool tone before floating out of the room like he owned the place.

“What the fuck happened?!” Sirius hissed.

There was a round of questioning in which you reluctantly told them about what had happened. You’d decided to keep the breakfast and hot chocolate to yourself….

James looked distraught running his hands through his hair. Sirius had a tight grip on your hand, suddenly unable to look at you. Peter had left to go to the bathroom.

You felt bad telling them what happened. If you had your way you would have pulled James aside and spoken to him about it privately. Sirius was a loose canon and this was a topic that often sent him over the edge, bringing up stuff from when he was younger.

The urge to comfort them took over.

“Look its alright. Nothing bad happened before Tommy got there and he said he would deal with it.”

“Since when does he go by Tommy?”

“At what cost?”

James and Sirius blurted out at the same time.

________

Everything was hectic, no one was happy about what had happened. John Shelby had taken the fall for you earning 4 months detention. But he’d not ratted you out, neither had the Ravenclaw boys. When you’d seen them again in the hall they looked significantly worse than when you’d left them.

Everyone left to go meet Tommy but you and Lily. Both decided to help some first years with their homework, it was almost laughable how worried they were. So you provide what info you could and tried to comfort them.

Everything shifted when they came back. You locked eyes with James who pointed towards the staircase for you to follow them up. Lily rolled her eyes but followed behind you anyway.

You flopped down on to Remus’s bed resting your head on his lap.

“Well there’s a proper war on now with the extremists. So as it stands no ones to go out alone. Especially not you or you” Sirius said pointing to you then Lily who let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’ve decided that picking partners is the best way. You know, buddy system and all” Decorus announced. Decorus was a year older than you and she’d been known for meddling with the various relationship tensions in the group.

It was not surprising that James and Lily were paired as well as Sirius and Remus.

You were paired with Marlene, which was a relief because she wouldn't give you a hard time like the others did.

“Now that’s settled, we need to be on the lookout for anyone with pureblood status that isn't under Thomas or Alfie. We are going to try and pull together to try and eliminate any other attacks happening. John took the fall for what happened and Thomas hasn’t named his repayment yet.” Remus said while tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Meaning we are in debt to them big time. No fucking up or pissing them off, cant afford losing out on the smokes or the whiskey. Understood.” James added and you nodded.

“Sorry everyone.” Suddenly the weight of everything hit you. It was obviously reckless for you to have snuck out, but it certainly wasn't deserving of what had happened.

“Don't you dare blame yourself for this. Neither of us are asking for this. Alright? Nothing about this is our fault.” Lily said to you with burning green eyes.

_________________________________

The night came and despite having been up the previous night the events of the morning kept replaying. You felt the parts of you that had been touched burning with the memory of those creeps' hands.

You thought about going into the boys room but looking over at the black stone on your bedside you just couldn’t help yourself. Partly just because you wanted to see him again, but also to ask about his brother and what was expected for payment.

You picked up the stone and ran your thumb over it. It suddenly got warm and in the moonlight you noticed the way that the sparkled surface seemed to swirl. You gave yourself time to lay there knowing that Tommy would have to make his way from the Slytherin house.

Eventually you left your warm bed and slipped on your sweater and slippers then snuck down the staircase.

You opened the portrait just as he was coming up the last set of stairs.

He was still dressed making this the second time he’d seen you in your Pj’s, your face flushed and he shot you a cocky grin.

“Shall we?” He held his arm out to you, and while you should have asked where you were going, you also couldn't bring yourself to bother with it.

You followed him down the steps and went to a wing you couldn't recall being down before, he stopped about half way down the long corridor opening the door to what seemed to be an empty classroom.

He shut the door and guided you through the room, all the desks had been pushed aside. There was a staircase leading up to what you assumed must have been the teachers office at some point.

It was a little room with a desk and a large bay window. You curled up next to him on the ledge and nearly lost your breath at the view. It was a rare clear night leaving a beautiful view of the stars.

“So how are you then?”

“Not the best. I’m angry mostly, but I'm worried that things are only going to get worse.”

“They certainly will.” He said with a nod.

“Oh, thank John for me, how am I to repay him?” you asked

“Don't worry about it.”

“I am worried about it though. I don't want this to fall on my friends, it's my debt and I’ll pay it myself.”

“Well I’ve paid your debt to him leaving you indebted to me.” There was a soft intensity in his eyes that made you not hate being indebted to him.

“Alright and what would you like then?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” He lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

“And till then?”

“Go out with me, eh?” Your face turned bright red and you almost choked on your own spit.

“Alright.”

“Alright”

There was a tense moment before you both started laughing. After putting out his smoke he sat a little closer putting an arm around your shoulders.

“This alright?”

“Yes, thank you for asking.”

At some point you fell asleep against him. The first night of many sleeping next to him.

Your years at Hogwarts flew by. Soon enough you were out in the world fighting alongside your family. A family that had grown to include the Peaky Blinders and Alfie.

It was a horrible dangerous time, it left your friends badly bruised and bloodied. Everyone was changed or lost. Tommy rarely smiled after that, you and him had taken Harry once James and Lily had passed.

Some mornings you struggled to pick him up knowing what you were holding was the last bit of your beloved friends. You still wrote to Sirius every Sunday despite never getting a reply. You knew that it was Peter, and he’d had to answer to Tommy for what he had done.

The Blinders and Alfie were still stronger than ever and on to bigger and better things. You’d moved to Birmingham to be close with this family, not having one of your own to go back to.

You’d insisted on Sunday dinners despite everyone’s general distaste. They were huge and messy, and growing now that the war had ended. Marlene and Decorus were getting married, as were John and Esme. Remus was considering moving closer to you now that his father had passed.

Eventually the Blinders managed to free Sirius. You’d gone with Remus to pick him up on a Sunday morning. You refused to let go of him for more than a few moments at a time till you’d settled knowing that he was home for good. He and Remus finally got the life they’d deserved, living a 5 minute drive down the way from your place.

Slowly you’d seen your family start to heal, one dinner at a time.

Then it was Christmas, the first Christmas since the war had ended. It was snowing and as per Tommy’s request Harry had gone to spend the evening with Remus and Sirius. You sat in the armchair of his study near the fire enjoying a moment's peace from the never ending holiday drama that seemed to find you no matter where you hid.

“Well I’ve finally thought of a way you could repay me?”

“Oh is that so?” You shot him a cheeky look. It was an ongoing joke between the two of you through the war as you’d saved his ass just as many times as he’d saved yours.

“Yes” He handed you a small box. Your eyes grew wide as you ran your fingers over the velvet.

“Will you marry me?” He asked, but he’d asked with a smile on his face. Looking more like the boy you’d fallen in love with than the man who’d gone to war. Tears spilled over your cheeks

“Yes!” You tackled him into a hug and you both managed to end up on the floor tangled in front of the fire, then again on the staircase, then finally on your shared bed. You went at each other like you were untouched by all the things that had happened. Like you were still two kids who didn't know any better.

In the quiet early hours of the morning you realized you’d never even opened the box.

“Here” Tommy got it and slipped the band on your finger. “It was Aunt Poll’s”

You laid against him and fell asleep, the beautiful ring on your finger like it was always meant to be there.

The morning rolled over and there was a loud explosion erupting from the kitchen. You both went down to see a messy looking reception with your closest friends frantically rushing around trying to sort things.

“Sorry love, you normally handle this stuff.” Sirius said wearing an apron with a pancake batter covered Harry on his hip. You laughed long and hard at the state of your little house. Crooked banners, an exploded tin of confetti on the carpet, and all of your friends looking quite amused with the situation. The door flew open and two of John’s kids came rushing through to hug you as Esme shouted after them.

For the first time in so long you felt whole again looking at their smiling faces.

Tag list: @tommydoesntpayforsuits @misselsbells06 @peakyevans

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby AU #Peaky blinders harry potter cross over #Peaky Blinders Marauders era #Marauders Era #Peaky blinders request #Thomas Shelby

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roobylavender · 2 years ago

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If you could take over Bruce’s canon, starting at any point in continuity with full creative freedom, where would you start & what would you do w mr. batsie??

admittedly there are small nitpicky problems i have with the rucka collective of no man's land / murderer / fugitive (which i am in the slow.. grueling.. process of rereading so i can gather my thoughts more conclusively bc i truly don't remember shite) but i feel like the conclusion to those arcs is where i would pick up. and ideally main things i would want to explore are like

under the red hood stuff but rewritten the way i have talked about it: talia kills the joker / talia breaks the red hood mask and effectively ends the identity / jason goes to stay with leslie thompkins so he can start reassessing his life / talia reveals to bruce the depth of her (well-intentioned) lies re: jason, which can also set the stage for her ultimately selling lex corp to him for pennies / bruce and jason start to (awkwardly) rebuild not as batman and robin but as bruce and jason, within the sphere of leslie's clinic / etcccc

search for damian once it's revealed that ra's killed his adoptive parents and has taken him under his wing. obv have talked before about how such an arc would be of import to damian bc of like the reversal of the robin phenomenon and needing to decide whether or not he wants to impose the same burden of duty upon himself that his parents do upon themselves. but i would also ideally want to use this as an arc to explore the relationships ra's has with bruce and talia too like the strained parental relationship there has a lot of potential and i've talked about it wrt talia obv but with bruce it's very underscored and idk i wish they had a proper arc about them and what they could have been to each other by way of father and son yknow. so this would definitely tie into that. and it would end with ra's living in wayne manor near broken from the strain of all of his self imposed ego and isolation and anger but with a small sliver of hope there for something to heal in the last years of his life. they'll play chess together and trade endearing taunts and quips and damian will be there on the weekends from talia's place like god the men in my family are such weirdos. i hope i never turn out like them (but he will. we all know he will)

somewhere in the midst of all of this i def want cass and steph to be increasingly impt presences in bruce's life like to me.. they have to be the ones who signify hope for the mythos. there is a unique humanity and persistent belief in goodness that both girls possess that to me should circle back to why bruce started this in the first place: pure, simple belief. idealism. the whole reason any of them are heroes in the first place

also like just more of a return to why bruce wayne as an identity and means for change is so endlessly impt. that's the good thing about those rucka arcs is the aim is to bring it all back to bruce wayne so carrying that in stride and exploring more of what he does as bruce wayne would be very impt. whether that's through reconciling with and learning more from jason or through his increased exposure to selina's world or through his friendship with barbara and understanding the things she's had to put aside in order to fulfill this role in the watchtower etc etc. so many of his relationships with people are built on his capacity for empathy as bruce wayne the man, the human being. so it would be nice to actually capitalize on that

and ultimately i would want to take it to the natural conclusion. death. hush is the stupidest arc ever to me but my one takeaway from it is wondering why loeb chose to create this entirely new character whose neurosis was centered around his indignance over bruce's identity when he could literally have accomplished all of this with two face. like hello sir you even wrote the long halloween and hush was supposed to act like a sequel to it so why did you do this.. but anyway. i think somehow harvey should find out bruce's identity and descend into hysteria bc of the betrayal and entailed emotional crisis of it all and then wake up one day and walk over to the manor totally normal totally nonchalant and act like he's a changed man or whatever bc now he knows who batman, his best friend, his confidant, was, and he wants to believe in bruce wayne. and bc bruce is always one for compassion and second chances he lets him in. and then harvey blows them up together (logistics and detection systems wise we can figure this out later. xoxo)

this is probably where i would do dick closure like i know it's sick to do the whole child achieves closure re: their strained relationship with a parent in death but idk i'm obsessed with it personally like i want to explore dick who has worked so hard to build a life for himself outside of bruce and bruce not stopping him from doing so but that only driving a wedge further between them bc even if dick has always wanted to be independent he has also always wanted to be acknowledged as bruce's equal.. and having to contend with whether you feel like you've ultimately been given that or not in the end would be kinda crazy yknow. good opportunity to see what bruce has written for each of his kids but esp dick in his will but like executed way better and on a more personable level than whatever shite that was in battle for the cowl. something as simple as bruce expressing his individual love and pride for each of his children bc at the end of the day all he ever wanted for any of them to be was happy and that's why he progressively took upon all burdens even if it subsequently drove them further away bc they felt like they weren't of enough use. and idk from there just yknow your standard fare contention with grief and moving on bc that's all you can do. and maybe that's where you see the bat fam really become something. bc they're finally united in that ideal bruce wanted to follow so long ago and they know what has to change going forward and in what ways they can be and have to be better. idkkk this is so corny i'm sorry i love well done tragicorn

#me getting to the end of this like yeah i know they're going to check out i sound insane #i want it so badly tho. kablooey in wayne manor with your bestie not bestie whose loss of idealism you forever mourn #the homoeroticism and hope and tragedy of it all you feel #anyway. this is such a mess sorry anon my thoughts are not coherent at all they're like big blobs in my brain #outbox

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acnelli · 4 years ago

Text

A Moment of Truth

My second entry for Ron’s Chessboard Fest 2021.

Pairing: Ron/Harry

Rating: T

Prompt 13: A Moment of Truth

Summary: Harry ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. But the Boy-Who-Lived is determined to make it right again.

Thanks again to TheUltimateUndesirable and to the best beta @accio-broom!

This story is kind of a follow up to the fic Thinking About You by Solstice Muse. You don't have to read that story to understand mine, but I highly recommend getting on LiveJournal and befriending Solstice Muse for their amazing stories. Pure talent, believe me! I also got permission from the author to write my story based on theirs.

You can also read this story on AO3 & FFN.

Harry wondered if he had ever felt more alone in his life as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. If he would’ve thought about it hard enough, he might’ve remembered several instances where he felt just as lonely, but Harry simply didn’t possess the strength right now.

Ron left him.

The thing he would miss the most left him, and the only person he could blame for it was himself. It took the better part of the last two weeks for Harry to realise it and all of yesterday to really accept that ugly truth.

The day Ron had walked out of their flat was nothing but a giant blur. He had drunk himself into a stupor, and if the broken mirrors were any indication, he pretty much had lost it. When he woke up the next morning, violently retching into the toilet, he called in sick and just went to bed again.

Although he had gone to work the following days, he floo called his PR manager, telling Liam to cancel all events for the time being, offering a half-arsed explanation and reminding him that it was his job to make up stories for him.

Harry had appeared at work as early as possible and left for home when the cleaning staff threw him out of his office. He didn’t want to return to the vacant flat, Ron-free and, therefore, absolutely miserable. But he was also trying to avoid Arthur, Percy and Hermione. Especially, Hermione.

Harry’s favourite pastime these last two weeks had been to curse and blame Hermione for all of this. She had obviously waited outside that day, escorting Ron to her parents’ place where she lived at the moment. Harry had watched them through their living room window as they walked hand in hand to the next apparation point.

Everything had been fine, after all, hadn’t it? Taking his manager’s advice to feed the monster to protect his actual private life and his loved ones from the press, he had found his celebrity life rather comfortable and even enjoyable. After years of Harry having been announced to be Bachelor of the Year, rumours started to form about why he had still been single. Together with his manager, he worked out a way to lure the press away from the truth, and there hardly had been an instance anymore where Harry wasn’t accompanied by one beautiful witch or another. Events and parties full of photographers did not bother him anymore as long as they only captured him socialising and having fun. Almost every day, the papers had a story to tell about him, but never about who he really had gone home to. Never about Harry being gay and him being madly in love with his best mate.

Most of the time, he concentrated on this feeling of betrayal and silently cursed Ron and Hermione for wanting him to come out officially. Didn’t they see how intrusive and destructive the press had been all his life? Didn’t they see how dangerous this could be for Ron? For himself?

But deep-down, Harry knew it wasn’t like that. Ron would never demand Harry come out. The only thing Ron wanted from him was the freedom to live his own life out in the open. It had been a perfect situation for Harry these past months; working, going to parties and then coming home to Ron.

But for Ron, it hadn’t been perfect.

Harry remembered that horrible night when he came home from some Ministry ball, only to find a note telling him Ron went out with Hermione to some Muggle gay club in London and that he doesn’t have to stay up should he come home earlier than Ron.

Shame and guilt threatened to choke Harry when he thought about his terrible actions that night. Harry had seen red the second he read the words Muggle gay club, immediately assuming some dirty fuck will try to steal his Ron.

When he finally found them, he watched Ron and Hermione dancing like there was no tomorrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but like they had the time of their lives. He watched Ron having fun, smiling like Harry hadn’t seen him smile in a very long time. He watched as Ron got approached by a very handsome Muggle and Hermione finding herself another dance partner, winking at Ron. He watched Ron turn the man down. And he stopped watching when that fucker ignored it and tried to kiss him. Before Ron had the chance to shove him away, Harry forced himself between them and snarled into the muggle’s face to fuck off, seconds away from beating the shite-eating grin out of him.

Harry knew now that this night must have been the turning point for Ron because after screaming at Hermione for luring Ron into that gay club, he completely lost it on his boyfriend. They had a terrible row that night, but Ron had forgiven him once more.

All feelings of betrayal got soon replaced by guilt. Over and over again, he recalled Ron’s wounded expression every time Harry asked him to not join him for one party or another, Ron’s anger and hurt when Harry exploded on him the few times Ron had gone out for the night without him or asked more than accusing questions afterwards. He imagined himself at these parties, having fun, drinking and talking about Quidditch most of the time. And then he imagined Ron, sitting alone in their flat, waiting for Harry to come home, just as alone as he was now. Ron wasn’t happy anymore, but Harry had refused to listen to his words and see Ron’s misery.

He suddenly hated himself — not just hurting his lover but also his best mate. Harry most likely ruined the most wonderful and perfect thing in his life and probably killed any chance to get Ron back. Maybe he even bollocked up their friendship for good, just like he had with all his other friendships if all the declined Birthday invitations Ron sent out before their break-up were any indication. Hermione always had been very vocal about what she thought about Harry’s treatment of Ron, and he just had been too deliberately blind and busy to notice everyone turning away from Harry.

That’s why he lay in bed. All alone. On his Birthday.

The only guest he had today had been Ginny, bringing him a little basket with some snacks Mrs Weasley prepared for him. She had been smart enough to not wish him a Happy Birthday.

While Ron hadn’t asked him to come out of the closet, Harry wanted to keep Ron inside it. He should’ve known better than anyone what it means to be hidden away for being different from the rest, for a dirty secret not allowed to get out. This comparison with the Dursleys made him hate himself even more.

If he wanted to have a real shot at getting Ron and his friends back, Harry had to clean up his own life first. Slowly, he got out of bed, determined to get a long overdue shower. Before he went into the bathroom, though, Harry summoned some parchment and a quill, writing a short note and a rather long letter (for Harry’s standards anyway).

He quickly delivered the note to his manager’s assistant through a short floo call, telling her it was urgent.

His owl Athena nibbled on some owl treat he gave her while Harry tied the letter to one of her claws. “Alright, Athena,” he said, his voice unusually wavering, “please, deliver this letter as fast as possible, okay? And make sure Hermione reads it.”

*******

Ron was well aware of Hermione’s worrying glances in his direction.

They both sat on Hermione’s bed, with their backs leaning against the headboard as Ron distracted himself with the wonder that is a television, and his best friend unsurprisingly reading a book beside him. He was glad she didn’t force him to talk about his feelings right now.

Over the last two weeks, Hermione had gone out of her way to keep Ron from thinking and worrying about Harry. An impossible task, really, but she did such a great job of trying to cheer him up and even succeeding sometimes that Ron often felt overwhelmed by the need to hug her.

Today though, Hermione knew Ron couldn’t be kept from thinking about Harry. It was the last day of July, after all, and Harry’s Birthday. And it would be the first Birthday since Harry turned 17 that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t be with him. It would be the first Birthday in the last four years that Harry and Ron weren’t a couple anymore.

In the moment, sadness and hurt seemed to choke him, and he wondered if Harry had even considered them a couple in the first place. Right at the beginning, when they started dating after some unbelievably awkward confessions of feelings, it had been like a dream come true. Finally, the times of mutual pining had been over, replaced by a sense of such content and happiness that Ron often had woken up in the morning, sure it all just had been a dream. A second later, though, with Harry’s arm around him, reminded Ron that it was genuine.

Despite Ron missing Harry terribly, he knew it was the right decision to move out. For the sake of his own sanity and happiness, he had to leave Harry. Ron knew that Harry loved him more than anyone else. It had taken him a long time to realise that sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Hermione wrote a short letter to Harry this morning, wishing him a Happy Birthday. They both signed it, deciding it would be best if they sent one letter together. The other day he floo called Ginny, asking her to check on Harry today because Ron knew that his best mate wasn’t fine. None of all these parties, charity Quidditch matches and Ministry galas could change that. At least, not after two weeks. A very selfish part of Ron hoped it never would.

Ron was about to suggest to Hermione to grab some ice cream when Harry’s owl tapped on the window glass, wildly flapping her wings. Instead of letting Athena in, Hermione looked at Ron with her eyebrows furrowed but with a questioning look directed at him.

Letting out a deep sigh, Ron stood up and opened the window. The owl flew inside, flying straight towards Ron’s opened and still not fully unpacked trunk. Landing gracefully on top of one of Ron’s bright orange Canon t-shirts, she lifted the claw the letter was tied to and hooted loudly at…Hermione?

“Well, it’s yours, apparently,” Ron said, pointing at the cream-coloured envelope. “Maybe he just wants to say thank you for the Birthday wishes.”

“Ron, you know th–“

“Please, just open it, Hermione.”

Her brown eyes held the kind of anxiety he felt too, but she still freed Athena from the letter and gave her an owl treat. Apparently, the bird got the order to make sure Hermione read the letter, as Ron knew that she would’ve been long gone after receiving her treat.

“Are you really sure, Ron?” Hermione asked, looking up from the unusually thick letter, “Will you promise me to not floo over, right away? Regardless of what that letter might say.”

He slowly nodded at her, his gaze fixed on Harry’s letter. This certainly wasn’t a simple ‘Thank You’ note, and the fact Harry wrote such a long letter at all scared him to the point of pure panic.

“Please, open the letter, Hermione.” If it was because of his panicked voice or Hermione’s own curiosity what the letter might say, Ron couldn’t tell, but she finally opened the envelope, took out the note and held it in a way both of them could read it.

Dear Hermione,

First of all, I’m sorry for any potential annoyance Athena might have caused, but I told her not to leave before you have read this letter.

What I have to tell you is crucial for both you and Ron. I know you will show Ron this letter right away; maybe he is even reading it with you right now. But this letter is actually primarily for you. What I want to tell Ron, I have to tell him in person, and maybe after today, he’ll give me a chance to hear me out.

Hermione, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for all the reasons you expect me to be sorry for, but I’m also sorry for letting our friendship crumble and fall apart. I had been so angry at you for stealing Ron. Stealing him, like he is some kind of possession to lose. The last two weeks, I was consumed by this unreasonable rage that I thought was gone after Tom Riddle’s soul left me forever. Yes, it took me two weeks to finally realise that you just were a good friend to Ron.

Because a good friend is what you are. And I know you tried to be a good friend to me for the longest time. I took you for granted. Just like I took Ron for granted and everyone else I turned away from during last year. I turned into a horrible person without noticing it, or rather, refusing to acknowledge it. And because of that, I also turned into an awful friend.

I could blame many things for my behaviour, like fame or the press or my manager or my childhood. But after taking a hard look at myself, I concluded that I can’t blame anyone or anything for this but me.

Before I even try to make it right with all of you, before I can look into Ron’s eyes again, I have to sort out my life first. Actually, I’ll start to do this today.

Both of you have to up your security. Use any charm you can think of. I doubt you will be in any serious danger, but I have no idea what kind of reaction this will cause. It’s best if you stay away from Diagon Alley tomorrow. I won’t mention Ron’s name, of course, but expect journalists trying to corner the two of you for interviews.

Do you remember the beach cottage we celebrated my 19th Birthday? I will spend the whole day there tomorrow. Would you and Ron join me? I have a lot to say.

Love,

Harry

A heavy silence fell over Ron and Hermione when they both finished reading Harry’s letter. Hermione slowly folded the parchment and laid it down on her nightstand before looking up at Ron with wide eyes.

Ron didn’t know what to say, let alone what to think of this. Harry did not outright say it, but the indication was clear enough. Whether he’ll write an official statement or give a press conference, Harry planned to come out today.

Wasn’t this what Ron wanted? For Harry to not give a flying fuck what the rest of the world would think about him? For finally being able to live a life out in the open?

But instead of feeling relieved and happy, he felt an old terror creeping up his neck. Like in a trance, he sat down on the bed again and stared at Harry’s letter. Ron ran his hands over his face and groaned from the overwhelming sensation of guilt and anxiety washing over him. Did he force Harry to do this? Did he force Harry to expose himself to the nasty side of the public?

Soft hands tugged on Ron’s arms until he was forced to look up. Hermione knelt in front of him, a determined look in her warm, brown eyes. “What do you want to do now?” She asked, lightly caressing Ron’s cheek.

“Well, the letter was for you…” Ron joked, his attempt to lighten the mood earned him one of Hermione’s trademark eye-rolls. “Fuck, Hermione, I have no idea. What if Harry is just doing this because he’s hurt?”

“Harry always acts impulsively,” Hermione answered in a thoughtful tone, “but his words sound sincere to me. And as he said in his letter, he really needs to sort out his life.”

“He shouldn’t have to come out though for that.”

“No, he doesn’t have to do this. But for his own sake, I really think it’s the right way to go.”

“I can try to get a hold of him and check how he’s doing if you want me to,” Hermione added when Ron didn’t respond.

“You would do that?” Ron looked down at her once more, feeling grateful to have Hermione by his side.

“Of course,” Hermione stood up from her kneeling position to sit beside Ron and took his hand into hers, “But Ron, just because Harry is doing this doesn’t mean you have to go back to him. I’ll support you, no matter how you decide, but please promise me you won’t let yourself get treated like that again. I don’t want to see you getting hurt like that anymore.”

He smiled at her and softly squeezed her hand. “I promise, Hermione. But I think I can’t just continue as if nothing happened. Not so soon, anyway.”

“Good,” Hermione stood up and went over to Ron’s suitcase where Athena still sat, looking expectantly at them, “Come on, Athena. I bring you back to Harry.” The owl hooted at her as if in protest but still flew up to Hermione’s right shoulder.

“Hermione?” Ron said before she could disapparate.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

*******

The press room of his manager’s company resembled a cozy living room rather than the place he held all his important meetings. Aside from the chairs for the reporters and photographers and the speaker’s stand at the front, it was decorated like a room he would suspect to find in some Lord’s castle. It had an impressive fireplace, a golden chandelier and was decorated with several large paintings and fancy looking rugs.

As Harry took a quick look into the press room from the door that led to Liam’s office, he saw that some news outlets had sent their reporters early. They clearly expected big news from him, considering the last and only press conference he gave had been the one right after the war. Harry was sure they thought he would announce an engagement. It was the obvious conclusion, and if he wouldn’t have been in such a grave mood, he maybe could’ve found it amusing to imagine their faces after he gave his statement.

You’ll see their reactions soon enough, Harry thought.

Despite what he was going to do in less than ten minutes, he felt strangely calm. It could’ve been the years of experience handling the press, but Harry knew this wasn’t the case. Talking about the Quidditch Cup final or the latest decision of the Wizengamot was one thing. Telling the world he was gay was something else entirely.

No, Harry’s calmness didn’t come from years of navigating the press, but rather Hermione’s visit an hour ago. She didn’t say much, just that Ron wanted him to know he didn’t have to do this. And she made it very clear this outing wasn’t a safe ticket to get Ron back. He told her that all he had said to her in the letter was true and that he needed to do this for himself more than anything else.

Hermione had simply nodded and turned around to floo home, but she had stopped in her tracks.

“Be safe,” She said softly, without turning around. Not waiting for an answer, she stepped inside the fireplace, leaving behind the orange flames dancing inside it.

Hope sparked inside his heart because, obviously, Ron and Hermione still cared and tried to look out for him. Even if he ruined every chance of a relationship with Ron, not all seemed lost considering Harry’s friendship with his two best friends.

“Are you ready?” Liam’s voice came from behind him. The short, grey-haired wizard stepped up beside Harry, looking up at him with his ever-professional mask of indifference.

“Ready,” Harry answered, testing his voice, glad it sounded strong and unwavering.

Without missing a beat, Harry’s manager opened the dark, wooden door, and the two of them walked to the podium. Several cameras flashed already when Harry cast Sonorous at himself. The room was filled with at least one journalist and a photographer from every news outlet in Magical Britain.

The news of Harry Potter being gay was going to spread like wildfire.

“Good evening,” Harry started to speak, his amplified voice quieting down the low chatter of the audience. He planned to make this short, wishing to be back at his flat already.

“I’m here to inform you that I won’t be attending any official events for the rest of the year.” The voices grew louder again, but Liam stopped the chatter by simply raising his hand. The way this short man managed crowds never ceased to amaze Harry.

“This is simply a way for me to get my life back on track, and I know I need this time for myself in the upcoming months. I-”

“Mr Potter,” Rita Skeeter interrupted, her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill and a parchment hovering in the air beside her, “Does your-”

“Mrs Skeeter, I don’t remember my manager giving you permission to ask questions,” Harry cut her off, trying very hard to not let her admire his middle finger. “And if you wish to attend this press conference until the end, I advise you to not interrupt me again.”

Raising an eyebrow at him but otherwise remaining silent, Rita sat down again, her quill still scribbling wildly. Harry knew he would pay for this. He was just about to give her the perfect ammunition, after all.

“I could just leave it at that. It would definitely prevent my manager from being forced to read through a lot of hate-mail, and it would spare me from having to hide from the public for a while. But these past months, my relationship with the press and official events destroyed everything I really hold dear. And no, I don’t blame you for this. You intruded on my life more than once, but what I have let my life become is entirely my fault. That’s why I have to make the reason for my retreat public. Before I reconcile with the people I hurt, I have to make it right with myself, first and foremost.”

Complete silence settled over the room. Not a single whisper could be heard, and even Rita Skeeter’s quill stopped scribbling, simply hovering beside the witch.

Harry closed his eyes for a brief second as his heartbeat threatened to beat out of his chest. It was now or never, so Harry took one last deep breath, and then, he finally told the world the truth.

“I’m gay.”

*******

A gentle breeze greeted Ron and Hermione when they apparated to the beach Harry mentioned in his letter. The slight wind felt like a relief compared to the stuffy heat in the city. Hermione could only shake her head at Ron for complaining about the hot days, given how rare they were in London.

They could already see the small cottage from their apparation point, the security charms still allowing them to notice it and enter its wards. It was a short walk to the small wooden cabin, but it was enough time for Ron to break out in a sweat.

Yesterday night they had heard about Harry’s press conference on the radio. The news station recited his speech word by word before analyzing it, also word by word, and taking wild guesses on which wizards were most likely to be a past or present love interest of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry’s words kept repeating in Ron’s mind, making him feel guilty, relieved and sad, all at the same time. More than anything else, he wanted to know how Harry felt about all of this, but at the same time, he feared what Harry might expect from Ron now.

With a gentle wave of his wand, Ron alerted Harry of their presence, and a second later, he walked out of the cottage. His black hair looked even wilder than usual, fitting his red-rimmed eyes and the wrinkled shirt he was wearing.

Despite Harry's ruffled appearance, Ron immediately felt a pang of deep longing inside his chest. All he wanted to do right now was to run his hands over Harry's five o’clock shadow and kiss away the dark bags under these brilliantly green eyes.

Instead, he just stood in front of Harry, willing his heart and mind to slow down.

After what felt like an awfully long time of awkward silence, Harry cleared his throat. “Would- would you like to come in?”

“I won't come in with you,” Hermione answered, and before Harry could protest, she turned to Ron, “We'll meet at Neville’s at 7?”

“But Hermione, I want to talk to you too.”

“I know, Harry,” Hermione looked back at him, her lips tightly pressed together, “But I think you should talk to Ron first. Alone.”

Ron could see Harry didn't expect this. He probably prepared a whole speech for Hermione and was now at a loss for words after her announcement.

“We will talk, just the two of us. And I will try to rebuild our friendship, regardless of what Ron might decide for himself.” Hermione paused for a brief moment and took a step closer towards Harry. “But should Ron decide to give your relationship another chance, remember that our friendship will stand and fall on how you treat him. I won't watch one of my best friends hurt the other again.”

And as if to make a point, she took her wand out of its holster, gripping it tightly. Without waiting for Harry's response, though, Hermione quickly squeezed Ron's hand before turning around and disapparating with a quiet plop.

“I really wanted to talk to her,” Harry sighed, weaving a hand through his unruly hair.

“How are you?” Ron asked instead of saying something about Hermione's decision to keep out of this conversation.

Apparently surprised about Ron's sudden change of topic, Harry looked at him with a puzzled expression. A second later, though, his gaze softened, and Ron squirmed under the longing Harry's eyes held.

“Better than I thought I would be” Harry took a small step closer.

“You didn’t have to-”

“I know,” Harry quickly interrupted him rather loudly, and with a much quieter voice, he said, “I know. But I wanted to. I needed to do this.”

Ron nodded and stared at his feet, not knowing what else he could say right now.

“Would you like to sit in the backyard? I have some beer and coke in the fridge.”

“Sure. I'll take the coke.” Ron didn't trust himself to not throw all resolve into the wind if he drank something stronger than Butterbeer. Booze combined with Harry's toned legs on full display on this hot summer day? Ron wouldn't take any chances.

Five minutes later, the two of them found themselves sitting on the small porch, overlooking the ocean. The sea was calm today, and the sound of the waves lulled them into a companionable silence.

Ron couldn't tell how much time had passed when Harry finally started to speak. He told Ron about his past two weeks—all the feelings he went through, from fiery anger over crippling guilt to unbelievable longing. He talked about how much he had hated himself and how this feeling shrank to a tiny flame after yesterday's coming out. And when Harry looked at Ron, telling him he was sorry and he was well aware Ron most likely couldn't see a meaning anymore behind his apologies, a single tear escaped Harry’s eye.

Ron wanted nothing more than to brush it away, but he didn't. Instead, he braced himself for what he needed to tell Harry.

“Harry, I-,” Ron sat up a little straighter, making sure to look Harry in the eyes, “I need time. I need time for myself, at least, for a while. I realised that I stopped being my own person in the last months of our relationship, and like you, I have to find my way back to myself.”

“I obviously want you back, Ron,” Harry's shoulders slumped down a little from the disappointment, but at the same time, Ron thought he saw something like resolve shining behind his green eyes, “But I'll be happy as long as you let me be a part of your life. Maybe- maybe we could just hang out for a while. Just as friends. Go to the pub, watch a Quidditch match, stuff like that.”

Ron gave him a small smile. “That sounds good.”

They didn't say anything else after that. The sun wasn't ready to set yet, but its late afternoon glow gave the sea a beautiful reflection.

At some point, Harry's hand that lay between them on the wooden bench accidentally bumped against Ron's. Harry jolted and wanted to pull his hand away, but Ron stopped him. He softly grazed over Harry's wrist with his fingertips, eliciting a small sigh from him. Ron watched as his hand interlaced their fingers; Harry's olive scarred skin against his pale, freckled and equally scarred skin. It was a beautiful sight.

They kept sitting this way until it was time for Ron to go, just staring out into the sea and holding hands.

*******

Resisting Harry Potter had never been easy for him, but nowadays, everything his best mate did seemed to drive Ron crazy.

Christmas was a week away, and a month ago, Ron and Harry started dating again.

One day, after attending one of Ginny's Quidditch games, they had gone to a small, cozy Muggle Café, trying to warm themselves up from the cold November weather. The Polyjuice Potion they used to disguise themselves from the watching crowd in the Quidditch stands had long worn off, but a rather persistent strand of blonde hair on Harry’s head refused to turn back into its usual raven black state.

Ron had reached over their tiny round table to point it out to Harry but instead almost knocked his glasses off in the process. They burst into laughter, and Ron didn't know if it had been the rush of cheering for his sister today or something else entirely, but for some reason, he had chosen this moment to ask Harry out on a proper date.

And it could have been all in Ron's head, but he failed to remember if he had ever seen Harry smile as he had at that moment.

Without further discussing it, they had kept it slow. Their dates had involved a lot of kissing again, but they always had gone home alone in the end; Harry to his flat and Ron to the tiny apartment he currently shared with Hermione since early September.

Now though, they stood just outside of The Leaky Cauldron, which Hannah and Neville reopened today. After taking over the pub from Tom, they had renovated the large terrace, surprising most of Tom's old guests that it even existed.

For the reopening, they had decorated it with fairy lights and some plants that didn't mind the season’s cold weather. High, round tables stood everywhere where the guests could have some drinks and snacks.

Together with Hermione and her new boyfriend Martin, they stood around one of these tables, drinking the most delicious hot chocolate Ron ever had. While Hermione was busy introducing Martin to their friends, Harry was busy running his hand over Ron's arse.

From their place right in front of the wall of the Leaky Cauldron, they were able to observe everything, but no one was able to see how Harry’s hand seemed to have found a new home in one of Ron's back pockets.

After about an hour, Ron finally had enough. Before Harry could sneak his hand there again, Ron grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind one of Neville's monster plants which happened to be the perfect hiding place.

“You noticed all the bloody journalists out there, right?” Ron asked but clearly didn't expect an answer from Harry as he kissed him as he had wanted to all night. Harry didn't miss a beat and pulled Ron tightly against him, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

Harry moaned into Ron's mouth when Ron sucked at his lower lip, making him want to apparate home with Harry right away.

As Harry set to kiss Ron's neck, it was now the redhead’s turn to bite back a groan. “Let's- let's- Oh Merlin, Harry.”

“Let's what?” Harry whispered as his hands slowly wandered down Ron's body.

“Let's go home,” Ron said in a breathy voice, lips swollen from kissing, “Let's say goodbye to Hannah and Neville and then go home.”

Harry shook his head as he stepped away from Ron, but tugging at his hand as he went into the direction of the party guests.

“Before we go home, let's show them,” Harry stepped up to Ron again, this time just kissing him softly on the lips, “Only if you're okay with it, of course.”

“But you already had your moment of truth. Everyone knows you're gay.”

“They don't know about us, though,” Harry said, softly stroking Ron's cheek, “And besides, my real moment of truth had been when I apologized to you and our friends. The public outing was nothing compared to admitting I had been a shit friend and partner.”

“You know, I don't care about the press knowing about us, but you don't have to prove anything to me, Harry.”

“I think I do. Let's show everyone the wizard that won over The-Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry said, and without another word, he led them into the crowd again.

Nobody was paying attention to them, despite the great Harry Potter standing in the middle of the expansive terrace, holding hands with his best mate. Mistletoe hung from above them, and Harry grinned at the coincidence.

“Doesn't seem like we have much of an audience,” Ron stated as he observed all the party guests who were too busy chatting and drinking, “But I think one of the fucking paparazzi has spotted us.”

“Do you think that's enough, Weasley? Simply holding hands in front of a paparazzi?”

Ron was well aware Harry was daring him, but Ron had been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, after all. Never breaking eye contact with Harry, Ron put his thumb and middle finger inside his mouth and whistled so loudly, everyone startled out of their conversation and turning their heads towards them.

And without missing a beat, Harry put his arms around Ron's neck and kissed him. Ron heard surprised gasps and camera flashes and cheering, but all he could focus on were Harry's lips and his heart beating so fast he was sure everyone could hear it.

As they broke the kiss, Ron put his forehead against Harry's and grinned like the bloody, lovesick fool he knew he looked like right now.

“Take us home, Potter,” Ron whispered, feeling freer than ever before in his life.

They never made it back to the party.

#ron's chessboard fest #ron weasley #harry potter #rarry #ronarry #harron #rarry fanfic #rarry fanfiction #hp #hp fanfic #ron x harry #harry x ron #harry and ron #ron and harry #my story #my fanfic #my fanfiction

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

The Birthday Party (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

fic summary: Ellie spends the night of her birthday crying over a girl that doesn’t like her back. Lawrence will consider the evening a success if she can comfort her without her own heart shattering in the process.

a/n: this one goes out to the anon on my blog that asked me “after rereading freshers au about 3 million times I must ask… are we getting a chapter about Ellie’s 18th birthday party? I’m just thinking about the unrequited crushing/diamond Chaney potential”. apparently i am unable to say no to any anon that comes to me asking for more diamond chaney content, nor am i able to name any of these fics after anything other than 1975 song titles. hope u all enjoy!

***

It’s an image that could hang in the Louvre but it’s one that breaks her heart.

Ellie is sitting on a red brick wall with her legs dangling off it, pale and bare except from a couple of bruises where she’s banged them off the flat’s furniture. The grass on the raised ground behind her is wet and cold, shining under the streetlamps in the damp of that hazy timezone between midnight and morning. She’s right in the middle of the yellow spotlight from above, and Lawrence thinks it’s weird how a colour that’s the same as the sun can all at once seem so cold. The mist, though light, hangs suffocating and stagnant in the air. It casts its moisture over the cars parked on the road opposite, and there’s an urge Lawrence has to push down to draw a little heart on a car bonnet, then zig-zag a line down the middle to break it.

Lawrence thinks she looks like some sort of Disney Channel character come to life; pink and white checked gingham skirt, white, long-sleeved crop top. The pink Filas with the hearts that she’d spent way too much of her student loan on and the matching pink bow that sits squint in her curly, rain-frizzy hair. There’s a crumpled, sad ball of a tissue clutched tight in her white-knuckled hands, and her pink acrylics are outlined with black smudges. Her head hangs towards her lap and as she tilts it to the sky Lawrence can see her face; her makeup, still completely perfect, but with two long, unbroken tear tracks of black mascara and eyeliner that stream down her cheeks like some sort of poison.

Lawrence feels like crying herself, almost had done when Ellie had broken down to them all in the club toilets. When she’d sobbed and her chest had risen and fallen so rapidly, illustrating the pieces of her heart that were shattering inside her ribcage as if Tia was blowing them up with dynamite. When A’whora had shushed her comfortingly and rubbed her back and Bimini had fed her tissue after tissue from the loo roll dispenser. When Ellie had whispered with all the hope and life gone out of her voice,

“I like her so much, and she doesn’t even know, and she’ll never see me like that.”

And Lawrence couldn’t say a word because she couldn’t trust herself to. Because she didn’t even know what to say. Really what could she say when Ellie had said it all already?

She recalls the way the bass from the songs that were playing out in the main room of the club had seemed so much like a sinister heartbeat; the soundtrack to the dread that Lawrence was feeling, that feeling of something slipping away.

Well, not something. Ellie.

Tayce hadn’t had much time for the whole situation. Lawrence knew she cared, of course, it would be harsh to say she didn’t, but she had been drunk and not particularly tactful. She’d hoisted Ellie to her feet, smudged away her tears from beneath her lashes with her thumbs and cupped her face as she gave a speech about how Ellie didn’t need anyone to make her feel happy, and how if Tia wasn’t going to notice her then there were a million other girls and guys out there that would, and how Ellie couldn’t let anyone spoil her night and Tayce wasn’t going to let that happen either. The song’s transition into Be Faithful had prompted Tayce to take charge, gripping Ellie’s hand and leading them all out of the toilets and onto the dancefloor with a battle cry about how this was her song, and how there was no way in hell she was missing the opportunity to get to dance to it with her best bitches.

Lawrence had known that Ellie hadn’t really felt better, though. The smile on her face was fake and she’d disappeared when the others were all too distracted bickering about whose round it was next. Lawrence had seen her disappear through the main doors and towards the exit- really the idea of Ellie being able to sneak off anywhere was laughable given her height- and so she’d dashed off without thinking, following her while a sinking feeling rose in her gut.

And now she’s here, a little way along the street outside the club, looking at Ellie and her broken heart and trying to figure out how to clean up the mess without a dustpan and brush.

So she awkwardly approaches her, forcing a smile as Ellie lifts her head to look at her through sapphires filled with tears. She decides to go with what’s always served her well though life and injects some fake cheer into her voice as she opens the joke.

“Did I ever tell you about the time the police chapped my door an’ told me my dogs were chasin’ people on bikes?” she opens limply, the joke already the verbal equivalent of a racehorse about to be made into glue. “My dogs didny even have bikes.”

Ellie gives an empty shell of a laugh in return. Lawrence supposes it’s the joke equivalent of “ask a stupid question, recieve a stupid answer”- tell a shite joke, recieve a shite laugh in reply. She’s rendered silent again, left to awkwardly scuff her foot over the glistening, frosty ground until Ellie gives a shuddery breath in.

“Y'should be back inside with the others,” she starts quietly, paws at her sniffly nose with the back of her hand, the tissue being long since rendered useless. “Having fun and getting drunk instead of listening to my shit.”

“I’m already drunk,” Lawrence shrugs at her. It’s half true. She feels too exposed as she follows it up with, “And it’s not fun if I know you’re upset.”

The tiny smile that appears on Ellie’s face and the way her eyes gain just a tiny bit of life makes coming out here in the freezing cold worth it.

“Ellie,” Lawrence gives a small sigh of sympathy, moves to stand in front of her and lets the crumpled tissue fall into Ellie’s lap before she takes her friend’s hands. She’s thrown before she can say anything. “Fucking Christ, your hands are baltic.”

“It’s December in Scotland. Everything’s baltic,” Ellie gives the tiniest roll of her eyes, but her expression is mostly one of affection, the gesture clearly appreciated. The way Lawrence’s heart is sparked by it is way too embarrassing and ridiculous, and she feels like a total idiot for being in this deep.

She covers it up with a sarcastic barb, a raised eyebrow used as a capital letter. “Do you want a pep talk or don’t you?”

“Please,” Ellie replies flatly.

Lawrence has about a second to collect her thoughts, try to arrange them into something coherent and supportive like a child making a model out of junk and PVA glue. She knows it’s going to come at the expense of her own heart but really, when has she ever put her own feelings first when Ellie’s been involved? She wishes they both had the same aspect to their friendship as A’whora and Tayce: that undercurrent of flirting and tension, the fact that A’whora’s huge crush on Tayce is the equivalent of a present wrapped in cellophane, and if they’ve not already done something about that whole aspect of their relationship then they surely will soon. But with Ellie it’s different. Lawrence is bound by the ties of the purely platonic nature of their friendship and, while she’d love nothing more than to break them, there’s still that part of her that’s content to stay in the chains they created together because even though they’re tight, they’re comfortable. They’re safe.

Ellie is Lawrence’s friend, so Lawrence puts her own feelings to one side and acts like it.

“I know it hurts,” Lawrence says, unable to meet her friend’s eyes as she strokes her thumb over her knuckles. “I know it feels like the worst heartache in the world, and it’s terrible. You feel like the pain’s not going to go away or…like your heart’s been smashed. It’s that way where…you’re too far gone as friends now, and it’s that feeling of not being able to change that path you’ve both gone down and…it’s too late, and you’re sat torturing yourself with the what-ifs and wondering if…y’know, maybe if you’d done something differently, maybe this, maybe that…”

Lawrence trails off to allow herself to gain back some composure, because all she’s succeeded in doing is making her own heart hurt with the truth. It’s the fact she’s telling Ellie everything: every feeling she goes through when it’s just the two of them bickering affectionately together, or the pair of them spooning when they’re hungover and emotional, or bonding over the Scottish Twitter references that the rest of their flatmates don’t get. It’s the way that with every moment they grow closer it only feels as if Ellie grows more and more distant.

“But you can’t hurt yourself like that, you know?” Lawrence says firmly, snapping her gaze up bravely to look Ellie in the eyes. “You can’t go through every day wondering why you’re not good enough, because the truth is that…you are. You fucking…are good enough, Ellie, you don’t need to change anything about yourself. Just keep being you, because…there’s someone out there who’ll appreciate it. And love you for it.”

Ellie’s gaze turns warm and soft, and she blinks a few tears away before looking into her lap, squeezing Lawrence’s hands. “Thank you, babe. That’s really nice.”

Lawrence can’t bask in the appreciation for long though because Ellie then narrows her eyes at her and gives her an inquisitive look.

“You know. You know what it feels like. How come you know?”

It would be so easy just to let something slip out; a confession, an admission, the secret she’s been holding in for two years now. The way she could bat it all away and cover it up with the amount of Jaeger she’s consumed over the past two hour period if it didn’t go down well on Ellie’s end. The thing is, though, that a drunk mind speaks sober thoughts, and it’s so cold in the street that she’s starting to sober up anyway. There wouldn’t really be anything to hide behind.

So she gives a snort of self-derision. “I know I might just seem like a joke book in a flesh suit, but I actually have a heart underneath it all.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees softly, her smile growing a little bigger. “You do.”

Lawrence’s heart soars into the sky like a bubble or a ridiculous novelty helium balloon. Ellie’s being sincere; she’s not layering Lawrence’s joke with another joke, a playing card on top of another. She’s just being honest. She sees Lawrence’s heart underneath all the sarcasm and the comedy and the way she can’t ever lay a single one of her feelings bare. Sometimes Lawrence dares to hope, dares to dream. Maybe everything she feels is reciprocated even a little bit. This- with Ellie’s gentle smile and the way the streetlamp is giving her a halo and the mist that’s wrapping around the two of them- is one of those moments.

Ellie sighs heavily, cuts through her thoughts. “It’s not even like Veronica’s someone I can justifiably hate, y’know? She has to be fucking…nice, and sweet, and pretty and lovely and Little Miss Perfect. Of course Tia’s mad for her.”

Pop.

“Well, you’re nice as well,” Lawrence frowns insistently. She finds herself rambling a little, clearly not as sober as she supposes the cold is rendering her. “And sweet and pretty and lovely. And perfect. Actually, not quite. C’mere.”

Lawrence beckons for Ellie to lean down, and as she does she fleetingly thinks about how easy it would be to kiss her. Too easy but too overwhelmingly difficult all at once.

Instead, Lawrence reaches her hands up to do what she’d intended, and fixes Ellie’s bow as if she’s adjusting a crown for a princess.

“There. Perfect now.”

Ellie smiles sadly at her as she straightens up, whispers a soft, resigned “thank you”. She sighs, looks plaintively up at the sky, the yellow of the streetlamp and the inky black of the vast space hanging above their heads. She pouts, deflated and defeated.

“What do I do now?”

Lawrence looks down the street, back in the direction of the flat. She could tell Ellie to give up and get over Tia. She could tell Ellie there’s someone that she knows- that they both know- that actually has a huge crush on her, she just needs to open her bloody eyes because all that fucking eyeliner’s clearly making her blind. She could tell Ellie that even the blind man’s fucking guide dog can see that Tia is hopelessly infatuated with the tiny blonde children’s storybook character she’s been making heart-eyes at for the past three months.

But Ellie’s already heartbroken enough and Lawrence is trying to make her feel better, and the antidote of heartbreak is hope. So she gives Ellie two options.

“Well. You could just carry on pinning your hopes on a girl who you’re not sure’s ever going to like you back, if you think you’ve got enough hope and optimism left in you. Or you could move on. Find the someone else out there who’ll love you for everything you are, because there is one. I know there is,” Lawrence says, omitting the fact that said person is her best friend, standing right in front of her. She smiles tightly before adding, “Your choice.”

When Lawrence realises she’s holding her breath waiting on her friend’s decision she feels even more of an idiot than she already does.

Ellie’s smile turns a little more genuine and she doesn’t even have to say anything to tell Lawrence what she’s chosen. “Well I’ve never been one to go down without a fight, you know? So…let’s just say Veronica better watch out. I’m gonna come up behind her and knock her kneecaps in to win my girl over. No matter how lovely she is.”

Lawrence shares Ellie’s giggle with a heart made of lead. She’ll keep pining, then. Keep on keeping on, keep on sharing moments with Ellie that make her day and ruin it all at once, the cause and the cure of all her mixed-up emotions. She’d rather keep her friendship with Ellie and have her heart crack just a little tiny bit every day than not have the girl in her life at all.

“Right, c’mon you. I’m freezing my not inconsiderable tits off out here,” Lawrence says decisively, if a little quietly. She wants nothing more than to drag herself back into the club and fill herself with artificial happiness, drink and listen to dance tracks about breakups with a too-fast BPM for the subject matter.

As Ellie takes her hand the split-second before she turns around, though, Lawrence’s priorities change. Her friend’s face is pleading and a little shy as she meets her eyes for a second and then snaps them to the ground.

“Can we just stay out here for a couple more minutes? Sorry,” Ellie explains. Lawrence can tell she feels silly. “I’m starting to feel better just being out here with you, so…I don’t want to go back in just yet.”

Like a complete fool, Lawrence just smiles and nods. “Of course we can.”

There’s a small silence in which Lawrence hugs herself tightly and rubs both her arms, because, well. She is freezing. She’s freezing and she wishes she had a cigarette. Ellie clearly isn’t as wrapped up in her own thoughts as she had been before because she notices her friend’s discomfort, gives a roll of her eyes which is affectionate rather than exasperated and pats the wall beside her.

“Hop up and I’ll warm you up,” she says. The jolt her words give Lawrence’s heart is what can only be described as pathetic, jump leads to a dying car.

Lawrence tries to join her on the wall, placing her palms on the bricks and making to hoist herself up. Her short stature, though, is rendering this difficult, and with each new unsuccessful attempt Ellie starts to laugh more and more until she’s doubled over, unable to breathe at Lawrence’s various attempts to sit beside her.

(Lawrence always loves making Ellie laugh whether she’s intended to or not, because it’s a way of guaranteeing that her attention is on her. The more she can make her laugh, the more of her attention she gets, so sometimes Lawrence will act up as if she’s on an episode of Live at the Apollo with an audience of one, in the world’s first romantically driven stand-up set.)

Ellie continues to laugh, finally holding a hand out for Lawrence to grab with a humoured “c’mere” to accompany it. As Lawrence grasps her hand and feels sparks fly through her bloodstream, she also clearly underestimates Ellie’s strength as she’s tugged suddenly forwards and they’re both flying onto the grass behind the wall. All at once the pair of them are reduced to bundles of giggles; legs scraping against the bricks and bodies flush against the wet grass, both of them breathless with their hands still entwined.

As their laughter dies down, there’s nothing left but their faces close together and the rise and fall of their chests and the small, dippy smile that’s still there on Ellie’s lips as she looks at her. The black of the sky and the green of the grass and the blue of her eyes, colour in absolutes. Simple, like Lawrence’s feelings are anything but.

It’s ethereal and it’s sad and Ellie will never know what it all means to her.

“I love you,” Lawrence says quietly. It’s too real and too painful and too raw to leave it like that, a plaster ripped off a cut too early. She elects to follow it up with, “Ya big bow-legged freak.”

Ellie giggles again, drunk and appeased. This is good. This is what Lawrence had wanted; to cheer her up and put that starry smile on her face on a night that’s meant to be all about her, meant to be special and magical and not the bad dream it had turned into. Lawrence has filled her head with drunk platitudes and compliments that’ve hurt too much to give. Lawrence has done the duties of a friend. She is her friend. And Ellie is happy. Lawrence can’t be sad when she’s happy.

Ellie lets go of her hand, pulls her in and hugs her. In an instant, the dewey grass seems instantly warmer. The moment is nicotine and Lawrence fills her lungs.

“I love you too, babe.”

She pretends she means it like she wants her to, and the bittersweet feeling it gives her fills her heart like tar.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ellie diamond #lawrence chaney #ellie x lawrence #uk2 #angst #unrequited love #the birthday party #ortega #me and you together

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casualcatte · 4 years ago

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[RP Journal] January 12, 2021

I’m not even sure I have the words for how wrongly everything went this evening. From the meeting with the Night Raid to whatever was going on with Siannault Tavard and Rae-Hann.

The meeting in and of itself wasn’t bad. I just felt like I was stepping out of my involvement right when they might need me most. I promised Rae-Hann, though. I told him that once I was done with this last bit with Ollie I was well and truly done. I know he worries about me and I know he just wants to keep me safe. I was raised that you always keep your word to the people you care about most. Rae-Hann has enough trouble with trusting people and letting them close without me breaching that trust when he extends it to me.

My only saving grace is that I feel like I’m leaving V’hala Helsi in good hands. Between Tetsuro Wulf, Nan’to Vaadrage, V’ari Tia, Siannault, and Rae-Hann my presence and contributions seem superfluous really. What have I really accomplished since being involved? I played distraction for E’nijah Suzume during the warehouse investigation, learning little to nothing of value except for, perhaps, the presence of the Disgruntled Transient. After that, I followed up with that transient, only to find out that Rae-Hann and Siannault had gone before me, not that I begrudge them getting involved. I simply wish they’d told me so we could coordinate our efforts.

(Courtesy cut -- This is a LONG one folks, hang on to your seats!)

I’d gotten angry with them the night I found out, which should honestly surprise no one. It’s well-known that I have a temper, but somehow I’m supposed to just plod along docile as a sheep and let people run roughshod over an operation and efforts that we’ve been painstakingly putting together for weeks without being informed until they were good and ready. And it’s not like /they/ could claim they didn’t know, I’ve kept them well-informed since all this started. So, yes, I got angry, I got belligerent.

To top it all off, they did this not half-a-bell before we opened the Stars Rest Inn for our public tavern night. So, not only did I have to deal with that, I had to put on my best inn-keeper’s smile and go serve people for several hours on top of it with naught but that to dwell on!

But that was weeks ago and I’d long since moved on from then. I never heard from Siannault at all, except through Rae-Hann who was understandably worried that the man had become withdrawn, preoccupied, uncommunicative. Out of everyone in the whole world, I would have expected Siannault to talk to Rae-Hann, but for days, weeks afterward there was nothing with Rae-Hann seeming even more sick and worried each time I saw him. And it rankled.

Rae-Hann has been part of my life since long before Edgard, long before the Twins, before the Night Raid, and before Siannault. If anyone means the most to me, it’s that silly, grump-faced mystel from Norvrandt. We’ve been through a lot together, overcome a lot of things together. If he wasn’t so clearly into men, I might have fallen for him once, but I think I rather like being his friend and student with him instead. Our friendship has grown a lot over the past year or so -- but whatever happened tonight may ruin it irrevocably.

When I was young, I grew up in the Hunt. My world, my upbringing, was about survival. To that end, my mother was ruthless and hard when it came to my lessons and learning the ways of the world. “Tough love” my father called it, hard truths that needed to be heard in order for me to get better, to improve -- to survive. While I don’t believe I’m quite as ruthless as Maora, I do operate under the same principles of honesty, telling people hard truths, and really making them look at things. For most, this works, but there are some on the rare occasion who simply can’t handle it. Now, I know my truths are not absolute, they aren’t the be-all, end-all of anything. At the end of the day, they’re purely my opinions, which people are more than free to throw out with the trash if they don’t agree with them. If people ask me for my opinions or my help, though, I like to think they know me well enough to understand that.

So when Rae-Hann sat Siannault down in front of me, telling him “we” wanted to know what was going on with him, that “we” cared about him -- I thought that was Rae-Hann’s way of asking me to step in, to help him get to the root of whatever was going on. After all, Siannault hadn’t responded to /him/ in any way, so what, really, would be the harm? I watched, though, as Rae-Hann reached out to him, again and again, and that elezen just sat there barely replying to anything. The more it happened, the more agitated Rae-Hann became. I couldn’t take it anymore.

If Siannault wouldn’t react to Rae-Hann’s gentle, loving insistence, I thought for sure he’d respond to being provoked. Questioned. Insulted. Something. /Anything/ to show some kind of reaction that he gave a damn about us. About Rae. Siannault went and puked in the sink. Said nothing. Did nothing, except heave what little contents of his stomach existed.

Rae-Hann eventually grew so frustrated that he lashed out at me, which I don’t really blame him. If someone was taking Edgard to task in front of me, I’d probably have some choice words to say to them too. Regardless how much it might have been deserved, no matter how much it might have just been a ruse to get Siannault to /react/ to something -- it still stung. Like I said, Rae-Hann has been by my side longer than anyone else, his opinions, his thoughts of me, carry more weight than most.

Everything always has to be about you, he’d said, as if everything I did had some selfish motive. I didn’t want to ruin your cozy, idyllic life at the inn with all the shite that goes on outside it. I /know/ the world is chaos; I don’t need to be shielded from it. I’d rather people be honest with me about the good and the bad in their lives rather than constantly hiding it until I find out about it anyway. It happens eventually, so I really don’t see the point in perpetuating the fiction when the truth is just so much easier to face head-on.

It’s neither here nor there, though. Even by that point, Siannault had reacted to nothing but the kitchen sink, even pulling away from Rae-Hann when he asked after him. The Starlight Gift I’d given to Siannault before all this started sat unopened on the counter. Nothing. Nothing. And nothing some more. I was doing more to upset Rae-Hann even further than I was to getting through to Siannault, so rather than do any further damage, I took my leave.

My steps took me down to a small beach alcove not far from the Rest. I listened to the sounds of the sea and the night-song -- and wept. I don’t cry often and it’s usually only when something goes on in my Found Family that’s so intensely hurtful that I can’t help it. Rae-Hann saying those things cut deeply. None can hurt us quite so well as those who are closest to us.

Was I selfish? Did I truly make everything about me? I started going through everything I’d said, done, or taken on over the past several moons, mentally combing through them with a fine-toothed comb. Why was I helping V’hala? Why was I helping Edgard? Or Rae-Hann and Siannault? It wasn’t for glory. It wasn’t for fame. It wasn’t even for gil. Or even their gratitude. I just wanted them all to be free of whatever plagued them. Free, content, and happy -- as I was. Letting go of my past, letting go of the Saurotaun, was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. Once I let that go, things in my life suddenly snapped into place as if waiting for me to finally unload the ballast of my tragic history. Was it selfish to want that for other people? Especially when it’s the people I care about most?

All these thoughts were tumbling around in my head when Edgard Beaumont found me. Together, he and I had a long talk about everything that had gone on and we both agreed that sometimes -- there really is nothing you can do. No matter how helpless we feel to look on and watch the people we care about suffer, sometimes it’s the only thing you /can/ do. They have to be ready to take on the problem /themselves/ before they can ever really hope to let others help them, otherwise, we’re fighting a losing battle from the onset.

As we talked, we spoke of my own shortcomings when it came to being protected. He tried to make it clear to me that just because other people have traumas that make them want to be overprotective and overbearing doesn’t mean that they feel I’m incapable or inferior. What other reason could anyone have for putting someone behind them like they’re weaker or more vulnerable? Edgard explained it simply: For love.

“You know I'm not going to jump haphazardly in front of you at the slightest risk,” he’d said. “But I would risk my life for you without thinking twice, Aultena. I said it the day I told you my feelings, and I'll say it again. If something happened to you, it would shake me to the core."

It wasn’t about protecting /me/ from harm -- it was about protecting /themselves/ from pain. It had nothing at all to do with me or my skill, but everything to do with the depth of their own feelings. Why had I never realized this before? Surely, someone, somewhere had explained it in all the times I’ve fought with people about it. Perhaps I wasn’t being receptive. Perhaps I just plain wasn’t listening like I should have been.

I’m far from perfect and I’ve made a lion’s share of mistakes. I’ll probably make plenty more before my time in this world is done. One thing I’ve always been good at, though, is owning up to my actions when I realize I’m in the wrong.

Once Edgard and I parted ways, I returned to the Stars’ Rest only to find Rae-Hann and Siannault still there, still arguing from the sounds of it. Yet, no sooner than I arrived, Rae-Hann announced that Siannault was leaving and the elezen did with a finality to it that said he wouldn’t be coming back. As he made his way out the door, I tried to apologize, both to him and to Rae-Hann, but neither of them were having it. Rae-Hann was too angry still and Siannault still too apathetic. So nothing at all had changed from my presence or my absence.

My heart ached for Rae-Hann. Things had been so right, so content over the Starlight holidays, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy -- which is honestly saying a lot for Rae after everything he’s been through. If he blames me for what happened, I can hardly blame him. He’ll need someone to blame; he’ll need someone to be angry with. And that person will never be Siannault, even though this could have all been solved so easily if he’d just talked to Rae-Hann as he’d asked. Pleaded. Begged.

So I’m content to let it be me. Our friendship may not survive this, but these are the sacrifices we make for family. For the ones we love.

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oh-theres-a-woman · 5 years ago

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Arthur’s Angel; Part Two

A/N: With the really deep and angst things to come with this plot. I haven’t completely decided on how long this series should be. I’m thinking it’ll be a short series. It’s meant to be something with high angst but a happy ending. Not sure yet however, since I haven’t planned too far ahead with everything in this imagine!

Requested By: @amys-small-world

Taglist: @zodiyack @hesagod-notyet @itsfrancisneptun @amys-small-world @fandom-fucking-shit @hinagiku0 @dylanlover24 @amirahiddleston @midnightstarlight02 @writeroutoftime @captivatedbycillianmurphy @theamuz @uselessbutinteresting @smallheathgangsters

Parts: [ Prologue ], [ 1 ], [ 3 ]

Word Count: 1523

Arthur’s POV: Angel had waited there again for him in the same place. This seemed so cruel to just ignore her, keep his distance. Make it out like he was busy when he really wasn’t. Things had started to get better for him since meeting her and starting to see her for the talks and general chatter they had. Yet, it was still so very wrong of him to be doing this. Watching on as she swung her legs on after the other, back and forth. God, she was so pure and innocent. Too good to be in the company of the likes of him. Even Linda was too good, yet, there was something more conflicting about being around [Y/N]. She was like the brightest beacon in the darkest night. Arthur watched her from the end of another alleyway cloaked in a shady darkness. It felt wrong not to go to her. But, at the same time he was a married man and should not be seeking friendship in an unmarried woman, any woman, correctly. It was too dangerous even now; [Y/N] made him feel so whole and content. Arthur admitted that time a few days prior made him—want to kiss her. The exposed flesh of her neck with hair swept up. Tucked into her beautiful waves the simple pin that he found in market for her. There was something so very lovely about the way she sat there. How her neck had the slightest curve from the way she often slouched. Many would have seen that as an unladylike imperfection. But not Arthur. To him. She as the embodiment of a fallen angel. Her wings torn from her as she fell from the heavens of her birth. Grabbing his heart, he watched as she shivered in the rain. When it began to pour over head. Still not straying from her place. Almost hopefully looking to the sky, hoping that he’d arrive, and they’d have lunch. Pol had made him extras again—somehow, she had caught on about something as his moods improved. Then, how like clockwork he’d always disappear around the same time for lunch. The first time she watched him fumbling about in the kitchen, finally stepping in when he cut himself on a knife and cursed down the whole house and shop attached. She was swift to clap him up the side of the head, John’s kids were around, so his language was not the sort for children. Holding his extra packed lunch, he grabbed a lad who was wandering down the street. Hoping to hear back to work. One of the young factory workers. Or maybe he was even heading to lunch. Dragging him into the alley and into the shadows he stood over the lad with the eyes of mad dog. Pushing the freshly made bakery rolls. Packed with meat and vegetables—best from market then poked to the girl in the alley alone. “You’re going to deliver those to her, now. She’s waitin’ on lunch. Just tell har that Arthur couldn’t make it today, work picked up. No questions, move, or I’ll cut ya.” Art pushed him out into the street once more. Watching the factory stumble out but catch his footing. Offering a dirty look to Arthur that had the man itching to punch that look off his face. Reaching for his peaked cap in a warning—the lad had half the sense of move on. Him and Arthur’s little angel looked about the same again. Early twenties. No older than twenty-five. He wondered just by watching them interact if they knew each other. If only he was a bit younger and not married… Arthur thought watching the lad hand over the rolls. Hands tightening over the blades sown into his peaked cap. Blood weeping out over his finger. It hurt to see her so familiar and smiling to the lad. Yet, from a distance he couldn’t see the straining tear down her hidden cheek, he couldn’t hear the shake in her voice nor the sadness in her eyes. [Y/N] POV In a moment, she lifted her head at the voice calling her name. Expecting Arthur but it was not. Which broke a place in her heart as it was only an old school friend, Frank. [Y/N] had not seen him in years, not since everything had fallen after in her life. Not since the life on the streets was much better than a broken and battered home. “Arthur asked me to pass these onto you, he’s caught up in work. Those Blinders are.” He mocked a sympathy. Well, some extent of it was true when he saw the pain in her eyes and the attempt to blind away tears. Sitting down beside her, he offered the rolls that she meekly took within her hands. Holding the warm foil meal in her hand like it was something holy and blessed. Tucking the spare onto her lap. Frank got out a cigarette and offered one. The dear angel—a devote, did not accept the stick that was offered to her. “No thank you, Frank. I don’t smoke but thank you for offering one.” [Y/N] said in a lightness of her voice, shaky and breaking. Unwrapping one of the meals for herself, taking small bites. Careful not to look the animal she did in front of Arthur some days prior. Scared to cause another man to run away and never look back. That was what she thought—she had chased Arthur off. “I think I actually scared him off—because I do see him hiding off the ways there. Must have upset him and he wants to c’mere on his lunch break and I’ve ruined it.” Arthur’s sweet angel choked back a sob, tears freely flowing. “I doubt that—you were always really aware of people’s feelings in school [Y/N]. I doubt that has changed now. Something just might be holding ‘im back. Or he’s the one with the stick up his arse.” Frank recalled being shoved into the street to deliver food. He wasn’t some boy that worked for the baker… He did not just deliver food. But, somehow, he did not mind the moment he figured out it was [Y/N]. After all, she was the sweetest girl and kindest heart. It seemed odd to Frank that such a girl like [Y/N] would catch the attention of a beastly character like Arthur Shelby. An ironic modern-day version of Beauty and the Beast is what he thought it was all like. [Y/N] ate through her streaming tears, trying to let the sobs subside. In the bad and worst of days; Arthur had been her anchor. Even if they talked only about him. That made it easier for a point in time. Where she didn’t have to worry about herself and how cold it’d be that night, at the run-down abandoned unit that [Y/N] and a number of the Birmingham homeless stayed at night. “You alright? You look like shite, haven’t heard anything of you from your folks in years.” Frank admitted seeing her family about, which made [Y/N] scowl thinking about them. “I’d rather look like shite than have anything to do with that lot,” it had been the first trace of disdain held in her tone that people had seen. “Is it really that bad? How long has it been since they’ve seen ya? A good couple year, aye?” Frank spoke up trying to be the supportive friend he failed in being years ago. But it only led [Y/N] to close off a little more from him. Tears still streaming down her cheeks. Roughly wiping the tears away with her rough palm. She whimpered softly thinking about what going home would be like. The hell it’d bring. “I don’t want to talk about it—it’s better I never go back there again.” [Y/N] said finally. Putting her foot down on the matter. A rare form of assertiveness. “But, living the way you are now, you’re getting mixed in with the wrong kind.” Frank exhaled a thick cloud of nicotine, before rising from his spot. Gripping [Y/N]’s cheeks in his hand, looking at her with worried eyes. “Does he treat you as a whore so you can get a meal?” He asked mildly disgusted at the thought of the eldest Shelby being with someone like [Y/N]. So pure and innocent. The thought of her being tainted by that sort of character was shameful. “No, it’s not like that.” [Y/N] protested allowed, shaking his hand from her cheek. Feeling the build of warmth in her cheeks thinking about him. “He’s a friend… We talk about things here, every day. Over lunch.” She beamed a little too brightly for it to be only friends in her connection there. Which made Frank sigh looking at her. “You’re soaked, come on. We should get you something warm to drink at the Garrison.” He ruffled the wet head of hair in front of him. Shaking off his own cool soak of rain much like a dog after a bath. Offering a hand, [Y/N] took it. Meaning no harm. Arthur thought otherwise, however.

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notcatherinemorland · 4 years ago

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ok more doc whom thoughts. yes i should be asleep. no i am not <3

ok i have been mulling this over and i think what’s been nagging me is that clara (and amy until s7) has no Wants. she has no goals. she doesn’t have a self-driven desire for anything... and you know what i’d argue this doesn’t even extend to wanting to be in the doctor’s presence. i think its why she’s been coming across to me as hollow, because she wants for nothing! her temperament is so benign! she is, frankly, beige.

Martha was a jr doctor (god bless), she had a level of desire and determination baked into her character just for that. And she wanted to be seen, to be recognised by the doctor. i didn’t even mind the crush line, because it wasn’t a romance plot, it was the doctor being unable to heal from Rose to recognise that he was carting about a whole new companion. it wasn’t pure sexuality, there was attention and all sorts of things thrown into that dynamic that made it interesting. Martha was amazing and i love her very much.

Rose and Donna... they want adventure i think. they want something more than earth had to offer them. Donna i think had escapism thrown in. Rose had something to loose back on earth. they wanted New, they wanted Exciting, they wanted adrenaline and education and More Experiences. donna wanted to make her grandfather proud. rose loved her family so much.

Rose did ultimately end up wanting the doctor and u know what? it was substantiated. it was sweet. i liked it because they actually had good experiences together and they were positive influences on each other.

donna’s end makes me cry dont talk to me. angy. i start war. it’s nearly 3am so i will come back 2 her.

amy uh.... well apart from the amount of sexual desire she shoved in the dr’s general direction, she kinda wanted to be around him but More Hightened than the other 3. I’d make the argument that what she wanted was validation of her childhood memories. amy & 11 didnt really uh. spend a lot of time around each other like rose and 9/10 or martha and 10 did. they didn’t... chat. i know we were utterly spoiled by the tenent/tate dynamic banter but i don’t rlly recall amy&11 getting anything low-stakes enough to chat. there was too much SHITE! in the way. THAT’S WHY i liked god complex so much it just!!! GAVE me something about the way amy’s whole character functioned. and then it changed her and i. CONTENT. DOUBLE CONTENT. about WHY amy thinks and acts the way she does. it is LATENT in rose. martha outright articulates herself. donna grows from someone who thinks there’s nothing in her into a character with dreams and motivations who understands herself. (and then it all got taken away from her and i cried) but amy... it took a while but she got Things in the end. S7 amy i LIKED! because of her life outside the dr. she and rory had grown! and lived their life a bit more. they had Things! they had hot girl shit to do. rory had a fucking backbone would u even believe.

and fucking frankly, the ONLY thing clara has done that wasn’t staring at the dr is hold a tea mug and offer up a book. NO wait i contradict myself. i really liked her friendship with Merry in that weird cult choir ep, that was Nice. but clara doesn’t have that same..... drive for experience or recognition or autonomy/their own lives like any of the others. she just seems to stare at the dr. and i am BEGGING for literally anything at this point. just give me a reason just a little bits enough just to something we’re not broken just bent and we can learn to write female characters

for the record i also have ^ the same crit for river song but at least she’s a self-identified psychopath that’s established in the narrative to have been trained not to have wants or desires apart from murdering 11 so like. I Guess. i dont like it but at least its substantiated in a sense.

i know the way i want my visual media to be is very strongly influenced by a particular western canon of storytelling that i am now learning is very orientated around modernism and post-modernism because i like grand narrative hot girl meta shit and also character psychology. but also a) i love jane austen so much i want all characters to have distinct motivations for Acting and i enjoy watching them interact when they overlap. b) in a show like dr whom where the character arc ARE the stories. none of this plot shit, give me EMOTIONS. give me HUMANITY. give me GROWTH AND ARCS. not to get gothic lit but if your fantasy isn’t an articulation/allegory of a human experience/facet/thing, then i am simply not fucking interested.

and clara isn’t articulating anything herself, the story isnt FROM her, she’s part of this big overarching plot that isn’t about her in specific, it’s externally driven. it’s a pound shop donna. yes, donna had the same thing where her fate wasn’t her ‘fault’ in a sense - ie how martha left the tardis on her own terms - donna had something tragic happen that wasn’t derived from who she was. it HURT because of who she was. and frankly im not feeling any same optimism of pain for clara yet.

#dr who wank for ts #3AM lets go lesbians its dr whom musing time #on of these days i will write an entire essay on the companions and it will be terrible. i will have the time of my very life.

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en241 · 5 years ago

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Friday, 17 April

Week 11: The Secret Garden, Chapters 19 - end of book.

First, More of Your Comments:

I am just catching up to the end of the book so I thought I would check in. As most said in the comments you shared on Tumblr I would have to agree it takes a lot for me to get into a book so it did take me a bit for this one but I was surprised how much I liked this book. The ending was really surprising as well it was very sweet and just made you feel good. I have noticed that the author uses sensory imagery throughout this novel which allows the characters and reader to connect with nature making you rethink your own life in positive ways, I really enjoyed this aspect. Mary’s positive thoughts and attitude makes you want to be the same. This even makes Colin interested in the outdoors as well despite his illness. I did really enjoy this book!

From this weeks reading, I have observed how the garden is changing People and things as a way of resurrection. Not only are Mary’s waxy features changing but, Colins skin is changing as well. Colin is no longer ivory skinned, he looks like he has flesh. It seems that the garden is bringing life back to them after all of the bad things that have happened to them. It may also be helping things like the tree his mother fell from. Although the tree is dead, new roses will cover its outside. I feel the new roses symbolize the spirt of the children and Colins mother who have never really left the garden. Colin planting the single rose represented ownership not only of the garden but of the spirits left there.

We all have that one place where we want to be, or think is our fairy-tale. The garden is the fairy tale in this story. The flowers create the fairy-tale. The tale or what it once was and what it could be. This has become such a part of Mary’s life she claims to have stolen it. I have experienced this situation as well. I have claimed a horse that was not really mine. I had so much pride in her I did not realize I was stealing her like Mary.

Now, some Thoughts from Me: Please bear with me and read them . . .

I’m so glad that so many of you liked the book so much. I love this book & I love teaching it, but it’s never been as meaningful as it has been this semester. And that’s because of all your comments.

One big thing: the way all the book’s major characters are on their own maturation plots, and how each of them help the others, so that in the end they all overcome their own personal traumas and grow. (And the garden itself is one of those characters -- maybe because it’s Mrs Craven’s spirit or maybe because Nature.)

I wish we could talk about all the details of this book and how they work together in order to make a coherent narrative argument. And I wish we could talk about this book -- especially its characters -- and compare it with the other books we’ve read this term. I could write up notes for you about this, but that wouldn’t be the same as discussing it together. It wouldn’t be fun.

I also wish we could come back to the big issues of the course -- the maturation plot, the adult/child identity problem, the three modes (nonsense, realism, and fantasy), and all the thematic patterns like food and appetite, indoors vs outdoors, reason vs imagination, sorting, stacking & counting, adventure vs safety, honesty vs dishonesty, etc. Because, you know, that’s the point of the class.

I also wish we could talk about all the different ways we can read Children’s Literature from a cultural perspective -- not just its history, or its connection to things like theories of psychology and education, but also its relationship to issues like race, gender, dis/ability, and ecology. Because, well, college.

It would also be really interesting to think about issues like illustration (have you spent time with the illustrations I’ve been posting?), book design, and adaptations into other media. Because words are great, but words are not enough. (Although tbh the new movie version of The Secret Garden looks like absolute shite imho.)

Aaaand it would also be fun to talk about more recent children’s literature and how reading these books together might go

But we only have one week left.

And we are all dealing with a lot of stuff.

So next week, if it’s ok with you, I will finish out the term by giving you a couple of new things to read and/or watch. (Kinda like what we did at the beginning with Struwwelpeter, the Gashlycrumbs, and the Wild Things. Only nicer. Much nicer this time. Happier. I promise.) And I’ll ask for your comments, and post them, just like we’ve been doing. With a final reflective assignment at the end.

Meanwhile, read this article: 21 Ways The Secret Garden Prepared Us For Adulthood . If you hadn’t read the book, it would look like a list of 21 cliche phrases . . . but now?

Take care, stay safe, be kind, and wash your damn hands.

AAAAAnd one more comment:

I just finished the book , absolutely loved it. Heres some thoughts...

So I think Mary is a super super interesting character. Most child fantasies start their adventures with a likable, honest and pure protagonist. At first, Mary isn't the most likable of characters .. She’s privileged, kinda annoying and just isn't the most relatable. This made it really hard for me to like Mary in the beginning but to slowly realize no - she's just damaged, really flipped the whole narrative for me. Life as a neglected, lonely orphan must have caused a lot of internal dysfunction in Mary and left a hole of hurt and pain she wasn't able to deal with and heal.

- I mean she is a child; she doesn't know how to handle these things. Imagine having your parents die at that young an age? Must be a horrible thing to deal with. Then getting sent off to the middle of nowhere to live with your weird uncle? that would suck - I definitely would cause a scene too -

I think Mary was destined to find the key to the garden and I think the robin - yes! i also think this is symbolic of Colin's mother - specifically chose to give it to her because she needed to see the garden. She needed a physical thing to take care of and nurture so she can see how attention to something leads to blossoms and beauty .. this helps her accept how important it is to give attention to herself and how planting a seed of self-love and acceptance will lead to strength and happiness.

The garden helped Mary heal wounds of the past, understand human failure, forgive herself and her circumstances to grow. Mary needs to go through this transformation to achieve maturation which is a super super prevalent theme here .. pretty much the whole book focuses on the healing and growth of Mary, and Colin later in the book. The garden is her “Wonderland” - it’s her safe place that wants to instill some sort of lesson or narrative in Mary that she absolutely needs to hear.

Mary and Colin are very alike at the beginning of the story and they get along best because their relationship is so honest .. they’re both at Stage I of childlike naiveness, with no self-awareness. I think maybe they were also destined to meet and their growth together is a beautiful thing to witness. I think the friendship they share is so important and fundamental to both of their growth. Mary and Colin aren't romantically engaged either - well because they are cousins - but this makes their bond even more special and important - definitely a relationship that’s important to have irl too .. a true friend , someone to grow with - I kinda wonder how the story would unfold if they weren't written as cousins .. would they have fallen in love??

The garden is an important place for Colin too - it gives him the motivation to want to live .. a super powerful and almost magical thing.

Anyways I'm kinda obsessed with this book now , the journey to learn how to love and accept yourself - at least that's what I took out of it - also how beautiful and valuable a strong relationship is.. definitely an important thing to note.

illustration by Inga Moore

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queenattheopera · 6 years ago

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Star-Crossed Lovers

Ben Hardy x Reader & Joe Mazzello x Reader

This will be a series..

Prompt: Reader tries to form a relationship with Joe Mazzello but things don’t turn out like planned.

Warnings: light swearing

I posted this later then I said I would, I’m sorry

Being friends with Joe meant spending almost all of our time free time together. Now as a huge fan of his I would have never expected to actually forge a friendship with him. He’s older, an actor, and he seems really busy. Despite all this we had found a way to become really close friends.

“Move your legs.” I was spread across his couch in his apartment when he had walked up to me holding a bowl of popcorn. Without looking up from my phone, I had lifted my legs and softly lowered them back onto his lap. I haven't known him for that long so I wasn't sure how he would react to this but he didn't seem to mind. He put the bowl between us and then pressed play on the movie. “I still don't believe that you've never seen Jurassic Park. I mean it's a classic.” I leaned towards the coffee table to put my phone down. He held my legs so I wouldn't fall, but as I was on the couch again he didn't pull his hand away from my thigh. I blushed a little and I could feel my heart start racing. Ignoring the feeling, I look at the t.v. but i continued to watch him from the corner of my eye.

“I'm not shiting you. I have never in my life, seen Jurassic Park. Do you know who’s in it?” I turn to look at him with a smirk as he playfully rolled his eyes. “Oh i'm not sure I remember, but my favorite character is this really smart kid.” I laughed. Even though the movie started I couldn't tear my eyes off of Joe.

He notices me staring and touches his face, my smile falters for a second because of the lack if warmth where his hand rested. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“No, I just thought I saw a dinosaur behind you.” Instead of rolling his eyes like I expected, his eyes went wide. He begins to turn around slowly. Once he fully turns around he pretends to get attacked and throws himself on me.

“Ahhhhhh, Y/N!! Save yourself!!” I burst out in laughter as thrashes around and tries to defend himself against the imaginary dinosaur. I try my best to hold the popcorn away from him. “Joe!! You’re going to spill the popcorn all over the floor, stop!” He suddenly lays motionless on my stomach. His mouth is wide open and I try to get him to move. “Joe, cmon I know your not dead.”

He still doesn’t move so I start throwing some popcorn towards his mouth. I miss the first few but he moves to catch the last one.

He starts to laugh while chewing the piece he caught. “You have terrible aim,” I rolled my eyes. “Like you could do any better.”

“I’m sure I can.” Joe rolls over onto his stomach, now resting in between my legs. He takes a hand full of popcorn and closes one eye to get a better aim. I open my mouth but I couldn’t keep myself from laughing as I watched him. He throws one and makes it into my mouth. “See! I told you I could do it!”

“It was a lucky shot!” He takes aim again and waits for me to stop moving. This time I moved on purpose so he would miss. I did this one more time before he gives up. “Those don’t count you cheated!”

I laughed at his pouty face, “What are you gonna do about it?” He smiled mischievously and before I could escape he starts to tickle me. “Joe!! Omg stop!” I was laughing loudly as I tried to pry his hands off me.

He suddenly stops and I look down to see him smiling gently towards me. I feel the butterflies in my stomach and I knew I started to blush. I look back at the t.v. and refuse to say anything.

I feel him move to get comfortable but he stays on my lap. We were both quiet for a while but I knew both of us would take glances at each other. Occasionally our hands would touch when grabbing popcorn but neither of us did anything after. When Joe was on screen I began to gush over him.

“Joe look at you!! You were so cute! Awww little baby Joey-“ “Hey!” I looked at him, he was slightly offended, “I’m still cute!” I tried to hold back a laugh and instead I ran my hand through his hair.

“Well I’d say you're definitely hotter now.” I give him a smirk and wink. I immediately regretted it as I started to blush. Still I tried to remain calm and looked at the t.v. I could see him still staring from the corner of my eye. When I face him again I could see a light blush on his face. We hold eye contact for what seems like forever. I’m trying to memorize the color of his eyes and the slight curl of his hair. He seems to realize he’s still staring and and quickly turns back to the t.v.

I run my fingers through his hair. It was really soft and it definitely felt longer than it looked. He hums at the contact and begins to settle into his spot. It wasn’t too long after that I heard a light snore come from him. I giggled and I pulled my hand away. Joe noticed and woke up an in instant. He didn’t open his eyes, instead he just felt around for my hand and placed it back on his head.

I started running my hands through his hair again and he slowly went to sleep again. I watched him move a bit as I continued to stroke his head. Not much time later I had fallen asleep too.

It doesn’t take much to wake me up so when there was a knock at the door I was the one to get up and answer it. I was still half asleep and I’m pretty sure my hair didn't look the best but at this very moment I didn’t care.

I opened the door and I was met with a very surprised Ben Hardy. My eyes went wide but I quickly put out held out my hand, “um hi, im y/n,,” he smirks and takes my hand.

“Ben.” I laugh lightly, “ohh um you must be here for Joe. He’s asleep in the living room.”

His face immediately lights up and I could see him beginning to put a plan together. He walks in and I close the door behind him. I watch as he slowly tries to squeeze next to Joe on the couch. He’s actually able to pull it off and is then spooning him. Ben tucks his head into the crook of Joe’s neck.

“Mmhm Y/n..” My eyes go wide and I start to blush as I realize that he thinks I’m the one cuddling with him. “That’s not my name love, try again.” Ben was whispering extremely close to his ear. It must have scared the crap out of him because a second later Joe threw himself off the couch. He was panting and had his hand over his heart. After seeing Ben and I laughing, he relaxed onto the floor and put his hands over his face.

I walked over to him kneeled next to his face. I stroked his head, “Joe are you okay?” I was trying not to laugh. He nods and I look back up at Ben. He was staring at me, I held his gaze before talking to him. “You really did a number on him.”

“Ohh he’ll be fine.” He sits up a pats Joe’s shoulder, “Right buddy.” Joe takes his hands off his face and quickly sits up. As he sat up I could’ve sworn his face was red. The boys stand up and start to greet each other. I begin to clean up the mess from last night then head to the kitchen.

“Y/n Darling would you like to join us for breakfast?”

“Ben I told you she’s busy today-”

“I would love to go.” Joe looks surprised, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Pushing past the boys I walk around the house to gather all my stuff. “Y/n I’m gonna go start the car, speed it up!”

“I’m almost ready!!” I fixed my hair and applied some chapstick before heading towards the front door. Ben is still standing there and rush towards him.

“Are you ready?” I nod, “Oh okay.” Before I could walk past him, he grabs my hand. His confident stance faltered for a second, “Are you and Joe dating or something?”

I freeze and debate what I should tell him. I mean I have the biggest crush on Joe but we’ve never crossed that line.

“No, um we’re just friends.” He smiles and he doesn’t let go of my hand. “We should get going, wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.” Ben nods and closes the door behind us.

The walk to the car was silent and I refused to look at him. We see Joe waiting at the curb and I decide to sit in the back. In the car we begin to listen to Queen songs and none of us hesitate to sing along. At one point the boys stopped singing. I didn’t notice as I sang some of the highest notes. When the song was finished both of them were awestruck and they gave me an applause.

“I’ve never heard you sing like that, where did that come from?” I looked at Joe through the rear view mirror and shrug.

Not long after we were sitting eating breakfast. Ben sat himself next to me and Joe across from us.Ben’s arm was resting on the seat behind me and he was sitting pretty close. Joe didn’t appreciate the proximity and he would occasionally glare at him.

“Joe are you okay?” He looks surprised by the question, but begins to nod. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” I could tell he was lying but I thought it best to ask him later.

“So y/n, we’ve been doing all the taking, why don’t you tell me about yourself?” I look at Ben and I’m a little shocked by how close we were sitting.

“Well I uhh work in retail while studying to get my masters degree in business management.” He nods, I notice that his gaze never leaves my face and I couldn’t help but be a little intimidated. I look at Joe with a plead for help but his gaze was purely on Ben. “What do you plan on doing after?” The question caught me off guard, but I quickly recover and turn my attention back to Ben.

“Well I’ve been think of opening a jazz club, it would put my bachelors degree in music to good use.”

“That’s not what you said before-” “That sounds awesome, you know if you ever need a drummer just let me know.” I avoid eye contact with Joe and Ben and instead look at the table. “Oh, thanks for the offer, I’ll keep that in mind.”

We were all silent for a few seconds and I thought it would be best to leave the tension.

“Um I’m going to the bathroom excuse me,” as soon as Ben had gotten up from the booth I quickly made my way to the bathroom. I then turned and looked at myself in the mirror. I don’t understand Joe, I haven’t know him too long but right now he definetly wasn’t being himself. I couldn’t tell what was going through his head. After pacing for a bit I took a deep breath and made my way back to the boys.

Walking towards them, I made eye contact with Joe. I smiled and gave him a small wave. He waved back and for a that very short moment he seemed okay. Catching Ben’s gaze was different. His gaze was longing. I decided to smile towards him too and his face lit up just like before.

I’m not sure what they had said while I was gone but the dynamic of the group was different. Joe was more withdrawn but Ben stopped flitting. “Miss me?” I was trying to lighten the mood but both of them just laughed awkwardly.

Soon the conversation balanced out and we were talking about how the two became friends. Ben kept trying to show off and started becoming more flirtatious. Before we left the restaurant Joe had left to the bathroom.

“Y/n I’m really enjoying spending time with you.” I look at him and he suddenly avoids eye contact. He was being shy, it was cute. “Um here’s my number, we should hang out. Let me know if your free next week.”

“Thanks, I’ll have to check my work schedule but I would really like that.” His cheeks begin to flush and he meets my gaze. He looked excited, it actually made my heart skip a beat. I suddenly felt guilty for feeling this way. It was like I was betraying Joe, but we weren’t dating. I felt my stomach drop when he came back. I wanted to apologize but I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Once Joe was back they drove me home, so I was left in my apartment to analysis today’s events. Walking into the bathroom I drew a bath and as I was taking off my jeans a piece of paper with the number Ben had given me fell out of my pocket. I stared at it for a while before puting it away in a box.

Back in the bathroom I slowly stepped into the bath. That’s when I decided that I would tell Joe about my feelings. I was nervous just thinking about telling him, but the flutter of my heart when imagining a future together made it all worth while.

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jhope-seok · 7 years ago

Text

Yin;Yang

Disclaimer: All of the things mentioned in this story are all works of fiction and have been made up by me, the author. I did not intend to make anything based on real life, and any coincidences to real life are purely coincidences.

Warnings: mentions of cigarettes

Genre: Angst. Fluff. Slight Smut.

Members: Suga x Reader

Length: 7,447 words

Sequel to The One That Got Away

(A/N: holy cow wow. I got the itch to write this after hearing “All I Ask” by Adele and now this is a reality. I know I’ve been shite at posting my writing, but it’s bc i’m working on something huge right now and it’s taking all of my attention, but I took a break on my big project to write this so i can finally have my catharsis. Highly recommend reading the first part before reading this (it will make a whole lot of sense. Also a HUGEEEE thank you to @hungline for being the best beta ever. <3)

(A/N#2: HIGHLY RECOMMEND READING ON DESKTOP. Mobile screws up the formatting....reads way better on desktop.)

Masterlist

[Y/N 9:47pm] “I still love you.”

The cigarette in his fingers hovered midway on its journey to his mouth, the smoke trailing from the end the only thing letting him know time hadn't stopped. His eyes flickered back and forth from the words on the screen to the name at the top of the conversation. Suga had to sit up in his bed, as if it would help him focus better on his phone in front of him, and shook away his thoughts in an attempt to decipher if this was real or a dream.

“No,” he thought. “This is very real.” The sounds echoed up from the street below a good indication that he was, in fact, not dreaming.

He’s surprised to have heard from you at all, let alone the same night, especially after the way your time together had gone. If he had expected to hear from you, he would’ve thought to hear nasty words from you, something far different than the words he was staring at now. He had lied to you.

“I met someone.”

He was sure at the time that your words hadn't been a lie, that fate had somehow once again provided you both with a chance meeting with no options to move forward. But, looking back now, he guessed you had lied to him too.

“Me too.”

This text message almost proved to him that you had lied to him. He wasn’t sure if you had seen through his lie and were now trying to call him out on it, or if you had somehow slipped: sent a message to him that you had meant for someone else. Or, in a highly unlikely third possibility, if you had meant it for him--Suga wasn’t sure you had meant to actually send it. Either way, he knows that if he missed this opportunity to be with you, he would regret it forever.

There have been too many moments in his life where you were close in his grasp, so close he could’ve closed his fingers and you would’ve been together. Yet, every time you had always managed to slip away like grains of sand, leaving only an emptiness in his heart. He also knows that there have been times where he was to blame, his own actions having pushed you away, but he wanted to ensure that he took this opportunity to prove to you how much you mean to him.

[Suga 9:56pm] “Where are you?”

He knew this was not the answer you would have wanted back to your confession, but he couldn’t tell you how he felt through text. He knew he had to do it in person. He needed to see you, feel you in his arms when he said it back.

When his phone buzzed again in his hand, all that he had from you was an address. It wasn’t the same place where you had met earlier, and when he plugged it into his maps application on his phone, it seemed to be an apartment building. He immediately grabbed his coat and headed out the door of his hotel room.

The night air nipped at his skin as he tried to hold his hood as close to his face as possible, trying to shield his neck from the cold. He’s surprised at how much it had cooled down, almost positive that the temperature earlier had been hot enough to make his shirt stick to his back. Then again, that could've been from his anticipation of seeing you pushing his heart to pump the blood in his veins faster. But, he’s glad for the brisk walk, the air cooling down his body temperature as his heart raced. With every step he took he could feel his pulse raise slightly. He’s not sure what he wants to say to you when he sees you for the second time that night, but he knows he needs to make it count, otherwise this could very well be the end of a possible relationship--and friendship--with you. The end of everything between you two.

The last few weeks of his life had felt like a blur. What had felt like a normal Monday had wound up being one of the worst days of his life. He remembered the tone of his boss’s voice as he sat him down in his office and told him that, “Things just aren’t working out anymore.” Suga had, in the company’s eyes, been performing below standards.

“We just aren’t getting results from you like we used to. And you aren’t showing signs of improvement. You’re not listening to criticism, and you’re behind on all of the projects you’ve been given. We’ve given you a lot of opportunities to show us better, but unfortunately, things just are not working out anymore. We’re going to have to let you go.”

Suga remembered the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the way his heart stopped for a moment. His brain couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. However, as he had packed his things, left the building and gone home to an empty apartment, he remembered feeling nothing. No anger towards his boss for firing him, no sadness at having lost his job. Nothing. He just kind of shrugged it off. He was emotionless at the thought of no longer having a job and having to find work for himself now for the future. None of that mattered.

And after a week of Suga laying around in his bed, doing the bare minimum to survive and ignoring almost every call from his girlfriend, she had finally gotten so fed up with him that she’d shown up at his apartment, just to break up with him.

“I just don’t get what’s happening, babe. I know you’re upset about having lost your job, but you won’t talk to me. You won’t answer my calls, you won’t respond to my texts. If you won’t open up to me then I can’t stay with you. This relationship isn’t a one way street, Yoongi. You act like you don’t love me anymore, and I can’t handle that. I love you, Yoongi, but you have to get your life together before we can work things out.”

He remembered how even after all of that, he’d just felt nothing. None of her words had pulled at his emotions, every word bouncing off of his skin, falling to the floor. It was all just air to him, wasted breath. Because she was right; he didn’t love her. She had just been a filler in his life. Something to make his parents believe he was living a “normal” life. He supposed at the beginning he had felt something for her, a flicker of something stronger than apathy. That's why he'd chosen to date her, but every night he laid in bed with her, every time she pulled him close, every time she kissed him, he was left wanting. She had left him wanting more, left his heart aching for something he knew he could never have. Nothing for him had been the same since college, and he knew that nothing ever would be.

After he had run out of food in his kitchen, after he’d gone through ordering delivery from every place within delivering range, he finally had decided to go to the grocery store and get himself food. He felt that it had been long enough and that he needed to go back to his facade of living like every other person. But, as he’d driven home from the store, some song on the radio had caught his ear. It was your favorite song, and hearing it flooded all of the memories of you he’d been holding at bay for so long. He remembered the first time he heard you sing along to the song, your eyes closed, voice slightly off key, dancing around like an idiot in the middle of your living room. He remembered listening to it in his college dorm room, during the moments he missed you most. Something inside of him snapped, and as he sat in his car outside of his apartment building, he cried. He really cried for the first time in years.

He let himself be sad over the times he’d lost you, he let himself cry at the thought that he’d let all communication with you drop because he was selfish. He cried because he'd let the one person he cared for most, slip away from him because being around you hurt. It had been the first time since freshman year of college that he truly felt pain. The wall he'd built to keep the hurt at bay finally fell away and released all of the things he'd held back for all those years. And as he'd wiped away his tears, and stared at the dashboard of his car, he thought to himself that he had to do something. He didn't know what he was going to do, or how he was going to fix things, but he needed to try.

So he ran up to his apartment, gathered a small bag of belongings, and drove home. He drove back to the city he'd been avoiding for three years. Along the way he called your parents. He still remembered your home phone number, the digits burned into his memory after having called so many times during high school before his parents had allowed him his first cell phone. When your mother answered she was surprised to hear his voice on the other line.

"Yoongi? Wow! It's great to hear from you for so long. I just saw your parents the other day at the grocery store. How are you?"

He initiated small talk for a while, shocked at how nice your mother was being to him considering how rude he’d been to you for the last three years. But eventually, he got to his point.

"Mrs. Y/L/N, I was calling because I recently got a new phone and couldn't switch over my contacts. I was wondering if you had a current cell phone number for Y/N? I'm coming home for the weekend and wanted to catch up with her."

He hadn’t exactly told the truth to your mom, but she bought it, quickly reciting off your cell number to him. He was thankful to find out that the number hadn’t actually changed. He contemplated the rest of the drive what he was going to send to you, what he was going to do now that he actually had a way to contact you. He felt bad about lying to your mom, so he felt like he should at least try to contact you, but he had no idea what he was going to say if he did. Suga had thought out many different versions of the same text, each sounding far too cheesy in his own mind. There was no way you would ever say yes to seeing him after all of the pain you’d gone through together, especially since after the last time you’d seen him, he had been the one to stop responding to your texts.

When he’d parked outside of the first hotel he could find in your city, he pulled out his phone and opened a new text message conversation. He punched in your number methodically, as if it hadn’t been three years since he’d last used the number. The cursor blinked on the screen at him, taunted him. It was telling him that if he wasted all of this gas to drive all of the way here, called your mother and lied to her about seeing you, and then word somehow got back to you that she spoke to him...he knew things would forever be ruined. He had to do something.

The sun was low in the sky, his courage fading with every minute, he knew it was now or never. It was worth a shot to him, so he typed quickly, and before he could think himself out of it, he hit the blue arrow, and the message was sent.

“Y/N–I’m in the area. Are you free to meet up? –Suga”

Why he had chosen to sign the his text with your chosen nickname for him from high school, he didn’t know. He waited, growing ever the more nervous as time went on. He panicked that he had gotten your number wrong, or that your mom had purposefully given him a false number. He chewed on his lower lip as he stared at his phone. He knew that the longer he watched his screen, the slower time would move.

So, he got out of his car, and walked into the hotel, and prayed that they had a room he could sleep in tonight. He hadn’t planned on staying long, but he figured that if he was here now he wasn’t going to push himself to drive all the way back to his apartment through the night. As he stepped into the lobby of the enormous hotel his phone buzzed in his hand.

“Sure, meet me at the park by the river in an hour.”

He almost dropped his phone as he read the words on his screen. You said yes. His heart jumped into his throat,anxious at the thought of seeing you again. He tried to calm himself, get his mind off of the situation that loomed in the near future, by speaking with the person at the front desk. Luckily for him they had one room left. He spent an approximate ten minutes getting himself situated in his room until he decided he could take it no longer, and grabbed the pack of cigarettes in his bag and headed out to the park you’d detailed.

It had been a while for him, walking among the streets of the city he grew up in. He was surprised at how natural it was to him, how easily he fell back into the same routine. There was only one park he thought you would be speaking of, and when you arrived, three cigarettes later, he was astonished at how it felt as if everything was exactly the same as he’d left it with you.

Except it wasn’t. You smoked, he smoked. You had both matured into beings so separate from each other, the only thing connecting you were the memories you shared between you. And he had revealed to you the truth behind those shared memories, he admitted how he’d been feeling for all of those years.

“I was going to ask you be my girlfriend.”

You’d responded in a way that didn’t catch him off guard as much as he thought you were expecting to catch him.

“That was the first time I remember wanting to tell you I loved you. The first time I wanted you to kiss me.”

But between you both, there had always been a catch.

“But you kissed her instead.”

He had always felt a need to lie, to protect himself from harm, from potential heartbreak. So when you’d called him by the nickname you’d come up with during freshman year of high school (“You’re sweet, Yoongi. You know that? I’m gonna call you Suga.”), he closed himself off immediately. He always had his guard up.

“I met someone.”

Until now.

When he arrived at the address you sent, he stood outside for several minutes, staring up at the windows above his head, trying to imagine what kind of scenario he was entering into. He pictured everything from you slapping him in the face saying that even though you still loved him, he had hurt you way too many times and he should have never spoken to you in the first place, to you crying and claiming he was the love of your life but that you were with someone else and you wouldn’t leave your boyfriend to chance a relationship with him. Although, he still had a small itch at the back of his head that you hadn’t been telling the truth when you’d told him you were seeing someone. Either way, he took one last breath of the cold air and headed inside.

He was surprised to find the front desk of your building empty at such a late hour, but he didn’t let that deter him from the task at hand. He easily found the elevator, and with every second it took for it to arrive, and then to deliver him to your floor, his heart began to race faster than he thought possible. He hadn’t mentally prepared himself to see you again so soon and now that he was mere steps away from you again, he wasn’t sure he could actually face you. But before he could blink, he was in front of the door marked with the same numbers as you’d sent in your address. And with three simple knocks there you were.

His breath hitched in his throat when he saw you in his sweatshirt. He was thrown back into the past to the day he gave it to you. It was the first and only time he had ever kissed you, and he had given you his favorite sweatshirt to remember him by. He never forgot how your lips felt against his, and he almost broke down and cried when he saw you wearing that memory so plainly in front of him. All of the words he’d intended to say escaped him as he stared at you. His past was colliding with his present and future and his sense of time was turned upside down, a loop that was connecting that day to this moment.

“Y/N--,” he started, his words falling into nothingness in the void between you. He had thought out his speech so carefully. He was going to tell you he’d lied, he was going to tell you how much you meant to him. But when he tried, there was nothing. When he couldn’t fill the space, you did.

“Suga--” was all you had to say. The precious nickname you’d shared for all those years was the only word it took to break through his wall, to force his guard down. Hearing it now was all it took for him to close the gap between you, and suddenly, just like that day all those years ago, he was kissing you. It was just as he remembered, just as he had re-lived over and over again in his dreams. Your hands easily found a grip at the nape of his neck, and his fingers curled around your waist, pulling you as close as physically possible. The space that had separated you both for so long closed so suddenly, you were like the most powerful magnets it the world. He never knew that the pain he had endured for so many years could be washed away as easily as it was washing away now. Your lips against his was the only medicine he needed to mend the hurt of past years, and he never wanted it to end.

In the past, he had imagined that if he were to ever have a chance to kiss you again, it would be awkward and uncomfortable, the memories of the past making it difficult for you both to fall into each other. Yet, it was anything but. Your lips tasted like all of the memories he never wanted to forget plus all of the memories he'd been trying to run away from all of these years. Your tongues clashed together in a choreography so synced it was as if you had done this a thousand times. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest and it was the perfect match to the beat inside of him.

As you pulled him into your apartment, he wondered when he'd memorized this routine you were both so quickly falling into. He felt as if time had been moving so fast before, and now with every second that passed, all of his senses were alight, aware of the mere milliseconds that passed as your limbs tangled together. It was so natural to him, the push and pull between you and him, as your fingers left his skin blazing as they danced across his back. When he found your skin under his sweatshirt, the heat from within you lit a fire inside of him that had long been extinguished.

It was a blur of passion that overtook every fiber of his being. He knew that if someone were ever to ask him to recall this night in the future, time would not be able to cloud the memory of the way your lips felt against his neck, or the way you clenched around him as your climax overtook you. Every movement you made against him molded him, shaped him, left its mark on his body, and he knew that he would never be the same.

In one of the few moments where your lips broke away from his, as his eyes fixed upon yours, he wondered how he ever convinced himself that any other woman had been the one for him. Your body melded with his like you were the yin to his yang, the perfect match for every movement his made. And when the night was over, as he kissed your skin, his head spun, love drunk on the taste of your sweat mixed with his.

As the moon shone brightly on your skin as you lay in his arms, the thought crossed his mind that this was where he was meant to be. When sleep fell over him, your scent surrounding him, he felt complete; fulfilled.

The sun woke him up as it usually did. He felt called by its rising, the warmth of its rays the only thing that had kept him sane all of these years. But, as he rubbed his eyes clear of his sleep, he realized something was off. You had left him, the sheets where you had lain were cold against his arms, empty like the bed. He heard you before he saw you, the clinking of something--likely a toothbrush--against the sink his only indication you were in the adjoining bathroom.

He shifted in bed, rested against your headboard, the wood cold against his bare back, unsure of what to make of this situation. Although he could not see your face, it was as if the air in the room had become denser than the night before. He could feel the tension between you and him, a rope strung taut as a heavy weight pulled upon it. He wondered to himself what had changed during the night, wondered how only a few hours could have shifted your feelings of him. He wasn’t yet ready to face these questions in his head, so he reached over into his pants that lay on the floor, and dug around for the pack of cigarettes he always kept in his back pocket.

He considered for a moment that it would be rude to light a cigarette in your apartment, in your bedroom during his first visit, but as he contemplated this his eye caught a trail of smoke leaving a still burning cigarette in an ashtray on your bedside table. The first hit off of a cigarette in the morning did more for him than a cup of coffee ever would, and as he exhaled, smoke dancing in the sunlight.

You yanked open the door of the bathroom, hair still wet, pants unbuttoned.

Suga stiffened, but before he could get out a word, you were rushing. “I’m going to be late for work, I have to go. You can let yourself out after me. Feel free to use the shower. Just lock the door behind you.”

Your last word still hung in the air as you ran out of the bedroom, into the living room. He heard you rustling around, moving through your apartment at such a fast pace that he thought if he was standing in the doorway watching you move, you would be a blur before his eyes. He imagined you were trying to get away from the situation, but he wasn’t quite sure why. He took a deep, deliberate breath, counting to himself the seconds it would take before he heard the front door click.

Twelve seconds.

He took another drag of his cigarette, wondering what he was supposed to do with himself, left alone in your apartment. He needed to shower, he still smelled like the events of last night. Yet, while it had lulled him to sleep the previous night--the thought lingering in his dreams that it had become his new favorite cologne--now the scent was making him lightheaded. But, he felt uneasy using your shower when you weren’t home, it was such a personal place that he felt he would be intruding. If he was being honest with himself, he felt like he was intruding even just sitting in your bed, so he got up, stretched and put his cigarette out in the ashtray, deciding it would be best if he just leave.

As he dressed, he couldn’t help but stare at his surroundings, wondering what it was like when he wasn't there to repel you out the front door; he wondered what your day to day life was like. He stood in the doorway to your bedroom, looking out at the living room. He saw you asleep on the couch after a long night of work, some show playing quietly on the television, your lullaby as you slept. He took a few steps and he could see your kitchen to his left. He pictured all of the meals you cooked, hoping that you had been eating well, and wondered if you had ever shared a meal with someone at your kitchen table. As he turned back around eyes cast back into the bedroom, he was presented with the thought that he had not been the first person to share your bed with you. He questioned how many had come before him, how many had been regular guests in your apartment, and how many had been like him, a one night stand to be left alone as you hurried out the door, away from the scene of the crime.

Everywhere he looked he could see the ghost of you, and he had the overwhelming sense that he was tired of thinking about your ghost. He was tired of only being left with the memory of you. He was exhausted from never being able to feel like he had won, that things in his life had settled and that he was where he meant to be. He wanted you, and he would not let you get away this time.

As he stood at your front door, hand gripping the handle tight, he promised himself that he would not let you get away, he would get you once and for all. He was meant to be with you, and he would be with you. He would do whatever it took to make that happen.

As you sit at your desk at work, you can't help but be consumed with regret at your actions from the morning. Your boss tells you that you seem out of it, unfocused. She brings you into her office, and asks if something happened. You lie and say no, knowing that if you were to tell her she would reprimand you for being so absent-minded over a boy. She tells you that if you need to go take a smoke break you're more than welcome, but you shake your hand at her, saying you were just tired from a long night. She smiles politely and tells you that she understands, but reminds you that you have an important task due by the end of the workday. You nod and go back to your desk.

So you do your best to focus, trying to get through the day, one word, one page, one assignment at a time. You’re sifting through the paper on your desk when your phone chimes. Your heart races as you reach for it, hoping to see his name on your screen. When you realize it was just a message from your mom reminding you that your father's birthday was coming up, your heart sinks, and the shame from the way you acted to Suga comes back like a brick wall.

You want to apologize to him, but you're unsure of how to do so. You acted like you hated him this morning, like he had given you some incurable disease. But in reality, you were mad with yourself. You had let yourself slip, let your strong facade give way for a moment, and although you showed your true self to Suga last night, you knew you could never be with him and you regretted the fact that you let yourself set a standard that you know no person could ever reach. Suga was the only person you wanted to be with, but he'd cheated on his girlfriend with you.

You were back and forth all day as to what you wanted to do, whether you should text him and tell him how much you really still loved him, or if you should pick yourself up and pretend like this never happened. After all, if there was another woman in his life, you couldn't ask him to leave her for you. He had never asked you to leave your boyfriends in the past, and you had never asked him to leave any of his girlfriends. You wanted so badly to be selfish, but your heart was telling you this had to be the end of it with Suga. You had to let him go. Once and for all.

When the clock struck 6:00pm, you gathered your belongings and went home, resolved to let last night lay in the past, no matter how much it broke your heart to do so.

The rest of the day, Suga spent pacing his hotel room. He was at war with himself. He was so desperate to make you his, he was telling himself he would do whatever it took. But there had been many times where he had second guessed himself. He'd been so determined when he left your apartment, that on his walk home he threw his pack of cigarettes in the first trash can he saw. He somehow stupidly thought it would be a way to show he was committed to you. He regretted that an hour later when his nerves caught up with him.

His brain had presented him with the very real possibility that his previous assumption that you had lied about meeting someone was, in fact, not a lie. That the reason you'd run out on him this morning was because you realized how much you had truly fucked up by cheating on this new person with him. He was convinced that any attempt he would make to win you over would be thwarted by the simple words, "I have a boyfriend." He was so sure, but there was one minuscule part of him that still believed it was false. And that part was fueling his fire. The tiny flame that refused to be doused.

Slowly, for the rest of the day, as the sun got hotter, so did the flame inside of him. He tried to switch his inner mantra from "She's going to reject me" to "I have a chance." His whole life, there had been so many missed chances with you. If he let this time be another one, another moment that you were able to slip through his grasp, he wondered what the purpose of life would be for him after this day. So he gathered himself, and decided he needed to see you. He needed to take the leap and just do it for once.

He quickly searched on his phone for the nearest flower shop to him. He spent a long time talking with the man behind the counter, deciding on the perfect kind of flowers to portray his feelings. He knew roses were the wrong kinds of flowers to express what he was feeling, and in the end they had decided on a mix of dahlias, peonies, with lavender mixed throughout. The man at the flower shop, Jungkook, had informed him that if he was trying to show commitment and devotion to a girl he was pining after that dahlias and peonies were the flowers to choose.

As Suga left the shop, he was taken with how much his heart had steadied, with every step he took closer to your apartment he felt his heartbeat calm, his mood lift, and his smile grow wider. All of his anxieties from earlier had disappeared. He could feel it. This time it would be real.

But, he realized he should probably not show up unannounced at your apartment. He wasn't even sure that you were home yet after work. In fact, he wasn’t even sure what time it was. The sun in the sky indicated that it was sometime mid evening, the sky having turned a warm pink as he made his way through the city. He dug his phone out of his back pocket, careful not to ruffle the bouquet and pulled up your conversation from the previous night. He reread the messages, wondering to himself what it would be like to hear you say what you'd wrote to him.

"I still love you."

He could almost hear it if he closed his eyes, but he stopped himself from lingering in his thoughts too long. He needed to focus on the present, on the now. He clicked on your contact information and pressed the phone icon as it prompted him: "Voice call" or "Facetime audio." Suga's finger hovered over his screen. He hesitated, unsure of how you would react to a phone call from him so soon. He ran through all of the possible scenarios in his mind again, but then landed on the decision that he didn't care, he needed to do this. At the very least he needed to do it to have a moment to look back on and say “At least I tried.” So, he pressed down, the dialing sounds filling his ears.

"Hello?" Your voice coming through his speaker sounded surprised. There was also a hint of anger that he couldn't place. 'Is she angry I called?' he wondered to himself.

“Suga?” you prompted him, and he realized that he hadn’t actually said anything.

“Y/N, are you busy?” He cut to the chase, not bothering with awkward pleasantries. He knew that if he let himself beat around the bush he would wind up hanging up and regretting his choice.

“No. I just got back from work.” You paused, and he was taken aback by how, real this conversation sounded. To an outsider on either side of the conversation they might think that this was just a normal chat between a boyfriend and girlfriend. Or at least a regular conversation between friends. Something he hadn’t called you for a long time.

“Why? What’s up?” You asked.

“Oh.” After everything he’d gone through in his head, he’d missed the one scenario where you asked why he was calling. “No reason,” he lied. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

He shook his head at his own stupid lie. He was ashamed that he’d lost confidence so quickly. After so many hours of working himself up, he’d fallen so fast in the face of a question he hadn’t been prepared to answer.

He could hear your breath hitch through the phone. “O-oh.” After a few awkward beats you continued. “Okay. When do you go back?”

“Tomorrow.”

You bit down on your lip hard, chewing to keep yourself from asking the only question you wanted to ask. You yearned to see him again. You wished you could hold him in your arms one last time, feel his body against yours, taste him against your lips. But you refrained.

“Well, travel safe, I guess,” you murmured.

“Thanks, Y/N.” His voice sounded soft. You wondered where he was, what he was doing that prompted him to call you. He had never been the type to call without a reason. Not recently, at least. As you threw your phone down behind you on your bed, your eyes caught sight of the arm of his sweatshirt peeking out from the under the bed. As you reached for it, you figured it must have gotten kicked under your bed in the haste that was made to remove each other of all clothing last night.

You pulled it on over your body, relishing in how soft it felt against your skin, imagining that the fabric was his hands, brushing over your arms as he pulled you close. You wondered if this would be your new normal, if you would forever be left with this yearning inside to relive the events of the previous evening. You knew that no one would ever live up to anything he had given you, would never make you feel anything compared to the way he made you feel. And while these thoughts were running through your mind, you still wished somehow you could make it work: fix the past, and forge a new path, together.

You sighed to yourself. What you both had done last night had been a mistake, you reasoned. He said he had met someone. He had cheated, and you hadn’t stopped him, in fact, you were the one who started it after all. You should have respected his boundaries, but now he would have to go back to his girlfriend and tell her that he cheated with some nobody from his past.

You shuffled through your bedroom to your couch, tears slowly streaming down your face as your mind ran through the negatives. There was no way for you and him to work. The past was a prime example of that. Every time your paths crossed, it was as if you were looking at him from below and he at you from above. At the same place but never truly together.

You turned on the television to try and drown out your thoughts as you wrapped yourself in your favorite blanket. “At least I have this to remember him by,” you thought, as you pulled the hood up over your head. You were keen to lay on your couch for the rest of the night, letting the sounds from whatever show was on to muffle your thoughts and lull you to sleep. But after only a few minutes there was a sudden knock on your door. You turned the sound down on the television, hoping that whoever it was would assume you weren’t home and would go away.

But they didn’t seem to be fooled by your act. They knocked again, three raps on the door. You lifted yourself into a seated position, still hoping that they would go away if you just never answered.

“Please, answer the door. Answer it, Y/N. Where is she?” Came muffled behind the door, his voice sounded impatient and anxious. You stood in your spot at the sound of his voice, the blanket falling to your feet. You rushed to the door, heart pounding in your chest as you fumbled with the locks. You had to see him, had to prove that this wasn’t a dream. As cliche as it sounded in your head, you had to know that he had come back for you.

Your heart felt like it would burst up through your throat at the sight of him in your doorway. You were speechless as you stared into his eyes. The tears that had subsided from earlier returned as you fell into his arms. You heard something that sounded like plastic crumple as it thudded by your feet. Your brain briefly wondered what had made such a sound, but all that mattered to you was his warmth that surrounded you in an embrace that cured all of your broken hearts from all of the years past.

“How are you here?” Was all you managed to get out, the only words that made sense to your brain.

“Y/N, I’m here for you. I’m not leaving without you this time,” his breath fanned over your hair, a calm reassurance. “I am leaving tomorrow, but I can��t go back without knowing you’re mine.”

You lifted your face from his chest, a tingling spreading throughout you. “This is real,” you repeat in your mind, a mantra you have to keep to stop yourself from collapsing at his feet.

“Suga, I have always been yours.” A smile spread across your face, a contrast to the tears that were still raining down your cheeks.

“I know,” he whispered, as he wiped away the tears on your face. “And I’m yours too. I love you, Y/N. I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you in photography class freshman year. I have loved you since the first time I kissed you. And I will love you until the moon falls out of the sky.”

You chuckled, the joy now evident on your face. As you kissed him, your pain melted away, your heart beat with a new life. Your arms laced behind his neck, his hands wrapped tight around your waist, you knew: you had found the place that you wanted to be forever.

He did leave the next day, moved back for a month, but he called you every day and visited on the weekends. He owned up to the fact that he lied about having a girlfriend, and you told him the truth as well. He’d brought you flowers, which wound up slightly crumpled, but you reassured him that all that mattered was the thought. He didn’t tell you about how much thought was put into them, but he smiled as you rummaged around for anything large enough to hold the bouquet. (Which wound up being an old wine bottle you rinsed out in a hurry so they had somewhere to go).

You apologized for running out on him the morning after your first night together, and he laughed as you explained your embarrassment. He told you he’d gotten fired from his job, but that he would look for a new one, one that was much closer to you.

He also said that the only reason he had to move back was so he could finish out his lease, and that he’d already spoken to his parents about moving in with them until he could find another job and a new apartment. You told him it was unnecessary, that although you were going to take your new relationship slow, you would be more than happy to have him live in the spare bedroom in your apartment. You had been best friends for years, there was no way you would let him stay with his parents, especially when you had an empty room that you’d never gotten around to renting out. He said he would consider it once his lease was over.

After all, it felt like no time had passed; as if time had just stopped, waiting for the two of you to reunite again and pick up where you’d left off. Which is exactly what you told him, but that this time you were moving forward with the title of boyfriend and girlfriend.

“And, you know,” you paused, a laugh escaping your lips. “A lot more sex.”

He had laughed at that. A sound that lit a flame inside of you that had long been smothered. You were so elated to finally have your best friend back, and it felt like a burden had been lifted from your chest, one that you’d been holding on to for far too long.

You could see into your future together, and the questions he had asked you now became clear, the answers laid out in the years to come so apparent.

“What would have happened had we been together? Would we still be together? Would we be married? Would we have kids?”

As he held you in his arms at night, his heartbeat the lullaby that sung you to sleep, you knew that the answers to everything would be yes. All of those missed opportunities meant to serve as a purpose. You had both matured, ready for forever. Forever with each other. Suga was your perfect match, as you were his. You belonged together, just like the sun needed the moon. With him, you were home.

feedback is always welcome! please feel free to leave some here!

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comealongvael · 7 years ago

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My thoughts on Amnesia; Memories… so far? (½)

“What’s that in the title, Kaz? ‘So far’?”

Well, I haven’t exactly FINISHED the game. I’m stuck on one of the routes, because the guy is pretty much the embodiment of ‘yikes’. So I’ll probably redo this to some degree when I’ve finished the game, his route and a ‘secret route’, because who knows maybe my thoughts will change?

This is also one of the games where I didn’t do the bad or normal ends, so I’ll have to do them too. But but but! My thoughts so far are under the ‘read more’. Let’s get started!

A quick summary, for those that haven’t played the games:

Some little precious cinnamon bun named Orion fucked up and enters your head, or something, and gives you amnesia. And you’ve got to uncover your memories of your life, in multiple timelines, so you can free him and live happily ever after. With whatever boy you’ve chosen. It’s adorable.

It’s interesting and I love the idea, and it’s got that whole mysterious feel to it; no two routes are exactly the same, blah, blah. Just play the game, it’s great.

So now let’s move on to my favourite and least favourite routes:

Favourites: Shin, Ikki, and Kent. In that order.

Least Favourites: Toma. Oh dear god, Toma. But I won’t get into why just yet. Just know that… holy shite, YIKES.

Favourite and least favourite characters time:

Favourites: Orion, Shin, Ikki, Kent, Sawa, Waka… and Ukyo? I can explain that last bit, and will in a bit.

Least Favourites: Most of the female cast and Toma. Nobody should be surprised. Let’s be honest.

Now we’re going to get into the long winded part. Where I just ramble about these characters and routes. So buckle up and get ready.

The first route and character we’re going to talk about is Shin/Heart World.

Shin’s the Heroine’s childhood friend, he’s a bit younger and rough around the edges, but he’s completely worth it. And so is his route.

First let’s talk about the route, Heroine fell off a cliff more or less, which is the perfect reason for her to have amnesia. He’s his route is falling for this adorable but rough lad, all the while uncovering the mystery of what happened the night of the main character’s accident/incident. And everyone is a suspect, I even suspected Orion at point and he wasn’t there at the time. But overall, it was fun and Shin is adorable during it.

However, the good ending… is difficult to explain; I liked it to a point, where [spoilers]Toma is given no real punishment for what happened[/spoilers].

Now let’s discuss Shin. In his own route, he is brilliant. He, as I said, is rough around the edges and can be a bit pushy at times, but he’s also vulnerable–especially towards the end of his route. And he’s not just one note but a complex character, who is absolutely smitten with the Heroine. And shows sides of himself to her that other people just don’t get to see.

In other routes, he… kind of suffers though. Mostly because Heroine is not close enough to see that vulnerability that is shown in his route. However, he does have some interesting moments in each route, my favourites being his bouts of jealousy in Kent’s and Ikki’s routes and his concerns and actions in Toma’s.

Overall, I love him. He’s probably my favourite. Of all the time. He’s a bit tragic and complex, and his route is fun–I believe he should be everyone’s first route. Because he’s good and pure. And well-written, which can be a bit surprising for an otome game?

Next route and character is going to be Kent/Clover World.

Kent is Kent. There’s no other way to describe him. He’s very unique and a bit of a nerd, and he’s route is quite funny to be honest. He was my first, and there were some problem in the beginning but I went back and fixed that.

Anyway, his route. There’s so much maths. Oh lord, I’ll have nightmares until the end of my days over the quizzes. I am horrible with maths. But other than that, I really did enjoy his route. It was adorable and pure, and he tries so hard in it that you have to give him credit. However, it’s also quite tragic because–by being nice to him, it shows some sides to their previous relationship that wasn’t so pretty. And some of the things he says in response to the main character being nice to him, makes me want to strange her.

But the good ending is well worth even all the maths quizzes. Because he’s finally happy and so is the heroine. It’s just so good and pure, and talking too much about it will be spoilers galore.

Now let’s talk about Kent, in his own route. Kent… is very blunt in what he says, and sometimes he doesn’t see how insincere he seems. However, as the route continues and he begins to grow under Heroine’s kindness, he softens a bit and becomes one of the sweetest characters in the game. And it’s amazing to watch that growth, and he did pull a lot at my heartstrings a lot. Particularly when you are nice to him and his responses vary between adorable and tragic, as he comments that it’s not like the Heroine or he thinks she hates him. The latter is so sad, and probably comes from a guilt in him, but it’s still hard to hear him talk about someone he obviously is in love with like that.

In other routes, Kent suffers the most. He doesn’t have a huge role in Shin’s route and I don’t think he even appears in Toma’s. Uhm, he does excel in Ikki’s, as the hilarious best friend. And in his own awkward way he does seem to support Ikki and the Heroine, and has some of the best ‘best friend’ dialogue I have ever seen. I just really love their relationship.

Overall, I do really like him. And I love his character growth in his route. I love his complexities and his awkwardness, and I will say that his route needs to be done and the player needs to have patience for him because his good end is well worth it. This nerd is the best nerd, sorry.

Now Ikki/Spade World, who kind of surprised me.

Ikki is actually one of the most intriguing character in the game for me. He seems like just a regular old womaniser, who is way too patient with his weird arse fan club. And he has magical eyes or something. It’s bizarre.

His route starts off a little weird. He’s introduced as the Heroine’s boyfriend and they’ve got this date, but he’s late to it and when she goes to find out if maybe she was supposed to meet him outside, she finds him way too close to this weird fan club he has. So the first impression of him isn’t the greatest but–as time goes on, you start to see cracks in Ikki’s surface personality. But we’ll talk more about that when I’m discussing his character.

The good end is brilliant. Finding out that Ikki is kind of a victim in his route but him finally getting his happily ever after was so heartwarming. I approve.

So his character. As stated above, he comes off as a womaniser, who loves to flirt and is known for dating girls for a certain amount of time, then they break up. He kind of comes off as a narcissistic jerk, but as time goes on, as you progress in his route, you find out that’s not the case. During some beautifully written moments of vulnerability on Ikki’s part you learn that he’s not as happy as he appears, and he’s quite lonely in the way women react to him. He calls his Magic Eyes of Instant Love a curse and he falls head over heels for the heroine because she didn’t Instant Love him. He’s amazing, tragic, and I really do adore him.

However, once again, Ikki suffers when you don’t do his route. Even in Kent’s route. He kind of fell flat in the other routes, and his only redeeming quality in Kent’s is his friendship with Kent. Which is kind of sad still, considering the attentive and kind person we get in his route. But that seems to a reoccurring theme in the game.

Overall, he’s probably my second favourite character. Especially with the way his route plays out. But I could have lived without the magical eyes? Though, hey, Heroine has an adorable spirit living in her head so… eh? Magical eyes aren’t that bad.

And now, Toma/Diamond World.

Oh boy. Where to even begin with Toma. I haven’t finished his route. It’s a really difficult route to work through and I really don’t feel like it’s going to pay off. And it’s been really disappointing so far, considering how interesting the other route were and the other characters were, and it’s so… I’m just going to get into it. Spoilers galore, so if you don’t want ‘em, just stop and read the little memo thing at the bottom.

First off, let’s talk about his route. It starts off kind of weird, Heroine faints or something when she and Orion show up. Toma’s there and flips, rushing her off to the hospital where she has to stay and do nothing. Seriously, the first few days of the route… there’s nothing. At all. Going on. Just hospital.

There’s signs very early on that there’s something wrong with Toma. There’s a scene with a laptop, where the battery and charger go missing–and she mentions that she lost battery, and Toma makes the comment about her being unable to use the laptop now. Which he shouldn’t have been able to know, since he only knew about the missing battery and not the charger. However, I called it the moment he was in the apartment, and then those things went missing, that he took them. Some shady shite starts happening and the main character moves into his house, and Toma goes nuts.

He goes off the fucking rails; starts drugging the heroine so she’ll sleep the day away, only waking long enough to be drugged again. Then after threatening Shin, and the main character (by using Shin to do so), he forcefully drugs her again through (s e x u a l) (a s s a u l t )! Just so he can dehumanise her by putting her in a fucking dog cage. wow.

And that’s as far as I’ve gotten, more or less.

So now let’s talk about Toma. Toma is poorly written, which is sad because he had potential. He flip-flops a lot between “I’m your boyfriend!!” to “you’re like my little sister!!” and it’s stupid. They gave him no redeeming qualities aside from “he sorta is in love with you, maybe” and he’s loyal-ish.

And about halfway through, they tried to be like “oh ahahaha, he has multiple personalities and doesn’t realise it!” but… no. “Good Toma” makes comments about things that “Dark Toma” does, so he knows–he even, at one point, right before the drugging starts, makes a comment about what he’s going to do and how bad it is.

I don’t understand it. What’s worse is that, he barely shows up in the other routes, aside from Shin’s. And Shin’s route has probably the best writing for Toma. Which is just sad. It’s confusing and sad, and I’m just going to end it here. I’m probably going to make a more coherent post someday about Toma. So yeah. Moving on.

MEMO TIME!

Ok, so the original plan was to just put it all in one post but it got long. Mostly Toma’s fault. And I didn’t even give my full options on the characters and routes, but that’s neither here nor there. So what I’m going to do is put in two different posts, this one obviously and the one that’s going to be posted after this, once I finish writing it.

It’s basically going to include the characters that weren’t included here, along with my thoughts and feelings on the game in general thus far. And there’s going to be a little questionnaire at the bottom that you can fill out and send me to via submission, so I know if this is something you guys like reading.

And a friendly reminder: this is just my opinion on a game. If your opinion differs, cool–let’s be friends. Let’s discuss and debate, and have fun talking about this awesome fucking game. Like hell yeah, my askbox is open, IM is too, you can @ me on a post, whatever. I’m here for headcanons, for dorky gushing over anime boys. Let’s do it. Don’t be shy.

But until the next post, stay safe, be awesome.

ps: haha, no proofreading. Sorrynotsorry.

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high-stakes-gambler · 7 years ago

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Happy Munday! About the Muse, about the Mun and about things.

Hello old and not so old followers! Thank you for dropping by! \o/ It really means a lot to me that you are following this problematic spud’s progress and enjoying the content that I post! As this blog hit a year recently and it’s been fairly active there are some things I wanted to drop as OOC info (or maybe I have to update the profile page, whoop >_>) This will be a long read proceed with caution!

About the Muse (IC)

1. I never RP’d Teledji as magically being fixed or surviving the Banquet without jarring physical or mental scar. It is unfortunately buried through 170+ pages on this blog. He survived through Sil’dihn magic and spent time in Palace of the Dead before he made it out through guile. He then faced a period where the magic began to fade and he had to be properly mended through white magic and actual surgery with the kind assistance of @castingdebauchery through something like 30+ reblogs and weeks of him struggling to pick his life back up. This period was full of your typical angsty moments and reflecting on life for him. They are spread through encounters and drabbles at the early pages.

2. Teledji was never right out accepted, he worked on all the friendships he currently has. It was never a pity party of “please accept me cause I no longer am bad.” No, I diligently showed his views gradually changing instead of one conversation and he would accept an idealistic point of view... Every interaction he had, positive or negative (thankfully it was mostly positive) had shifted and shaped him to his current self.

3. He made peace with Nanamo. I know only one active Nanamo roleplayer and I adore her to bits! I was flattered to hear this blog was one of her faves in the process! We had numerous exchanges between our lalafell and as result they hold more friendly ground now. It was not a magical one talk fix, it took months of exchanges back and forth, and I saw it as a huge part of this character’s redemption arc. Needless to say it was huge reason for him to shift to a less bitter self. He occasionally writes to her, often mentioning loopholes that she could cover and reduce corruption in Ul’dah.

4. He rebuilt his business but he started in ...the chocobo stables. I RP him as someone who waves his money now but when this blog started he was sleeping in @uldahnflamelady ‘s chocobo stable with not a single gil. I RP’d and posted drabbles of how he rose on the market. It was never a mystery or magical gil that popped out of the blue. None of this was one day fix and I followed my own in game gil build up and reflected it through his interactions. He is an alt, currently he is with 53+ millions! He owns a karaoke bar and plans to open a Hotel in Shirogane!

About the Muse (OOC)

1. Everything, personality and traits wise was scrubbed from JP sites, 1.0 and what I could find. I didn’t slap a headcanon on him because I thought it was cute. I needed at least some ground to base things on and I tried to be as accurate as possible to what could have been if the character survived and had better environment than the cutthroat world of commerce in Ul’dah.

2. I picked him cause ... he was dead. And I didn’t see anyone actively RPing him and I thought he was a pretty good villain with more down to earth reasons to be a nuisance than magical powers opposing our crystal. He was just greedy and there was nothing noble or good about it - he wanted to win against Lord Dorito ... and for a moment I thought this could be such a reliable reason - being eaten by jealousy of never being good enough to the point you turn into a monster? Yes, please! Good character material!! As I said, he was dead, so all that I could add would have been a “what if” rather than stepping on canon toes too much. I feel really, really uneasy playing living characters! Kudos to those who do and give them justice, I just worry I would upset or what I build would have to be scrapped based on new information.

3. I ...picked him cause I liked his design. Shallow artistic reasons. ;; He was such a cutie in 1.0, what happened, why did you turn so foul!?

4. Lastly please consider there is a living person behind the name, who poured time and energy into this blog and this NPC canon/divergent and when you did so much you do grow attached. It becomes your adopted baby at one point and you want to see them happy. It’s less about me liking the canon character and more about me liking what I made with my version of the character so far. People discarding what you built and keep judging purely on what they canonically know is really disrespectful. Please, do read and look around before judging. You are not interacting with the canon NPC, for all I care you can slap that little shite, I cheered for Raubahn too. Just because I liked a villain doesn’t mean I agree with what they did.

About the Mun

1. I’m a cinnamon roll. Or so I was told, I don’t bite and I’m very easy to talk to. ^_^; You may have seen me as @dennydraws and known me as the Sloppy comic artist (my legacy apparently lol) If you are on primal data center and come across me, say a hi! I seldom RP in game beyond throwing a witty or salty semi-IC response. I’m mostly a raider and just play the game as a game or take tons of screenshots.

2. If someone dares tell me I lack imagination for roleplaying an NPC, I’d gladly rub in my 200+ comic, published works, two winning years from NaNoWriMo, and four years and counting experience in the video game industry. Do not assume, it’s not healthy.

3. I am Engrish at times, yeah apologies for sounding off when you read my stuff. I’m from Bulgaria, English is not my native tongue. I love the language though and I’m so sorry every once in a while when I utterly butcher it.

4. I do it for fun but I’m also passionate about what I do. I do take my part in a RP seriously. I took this spud cause I knew I could write this type of character. I’m not out there to convince anyone to RP with me or see a minor NPC who’s been dead for two years as something more than you already do. If you do, great! If you don’t, that’s also great! Keep having fun and leave people have fun too!

Love your OCs, love your fave NPCs, More peace and love, less salt and spite! Thank you for reading this, have a cookie! \o/

#Good morning!#Just a small announcement #no one provoked this #I just realized he developed so much over a year but the newer followers couldn't have seen that!

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arrow-guy · 8 years ago

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All Was Well (1/??)

Summary: Harry and Draco struggle with life after the war. Together, things my not be easier, but they sure are more interesting.

A/N: Okay, I lied, it’s going up today. I didn’t realize that I would be able to get done with all my schoolwork as quickly as I did, so I figured I would reward myself and you guys with an early post. I’m kind of worried that they’re ooc, but if I don’t post it now, I know I never will lmao. I really hope I did the pair justice and I sincerely hope you enjoy this first part!

Pairing: Drarry

Word Count: 3014

Warnings: Angst, nightmares, slight panic

Harry thought that, after the war, everything would go back to normal. He would be able to go back to the perfect life he had envisioned with his friends, his girlfriend and his adopted family. He would be able to become an Auror and everything would be fine.

The problem with his plan was that he didn’t plan for the fallout of the war.

He didn’t expect the sheer number of people who would swarm him any time he went out. Not the people touching him or grabbing it his hair, clothes and glasses just for the chance to touch the saviour or, even better, manage to tear off a piece of his clothing.

He wasn’t counting on the number of meetings he would called on to attend or hearings and trials he would be asked to testify at. He never imagined the sheer number of people he would see put away for war crimes. He watched as Death Eaters and snatchers alike were sentenced to Azkaban with varying times to be served.

When the time came, he testified at the Malfoy’s Hearings. It was about a week after the final battle that the owl arrived inviting him to attend the trial and, if possible, testify.

Thanks to his testimony, Draco and Narcissa Malfoy were pardoned with only mild probationary punishments set in place. Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy was not so lucky.

Due to his place in Voldemort’s inner circle, regardless of turning his back in the end, he was sentenced to Azkaban for thirty five years.

Harry felt horrible when the verdict was reached, but felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that Draco and his mother were free. After the trial, Draco and Narcissa had approached him and thanked him quietly. Draco had refused to meet his eyes and Narcissa stood close to her son, her hand on his arm. Harry had nodded stiffly to them and watched them walk away to speak to Lucius before he was taken to Azkaban.

Most of all, he wasn’t expecting the sadness, depression and anxiety that would follow the war.

A week after everything ended, Hermione and Ron went off to Australia in search of Hermione’s parents to attempt to restore their memories and bring them back to England. In that time Harry and Ginny tried to bring their relationship back to the level it was at when they were in school the year before. No matter what they tried, they couldn’t seem to bring back the spark. They broke up, knowing that it was what was best for the both of them. Even after their split, they spent long nights together in Grimmauld Place, laying on the floor and talking.

One night, a little under a month after the final battle, the two of them had stayed up well into the night and come to a rather startling conclusion.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m gay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Ginny nodded.

The pair was quiet for a while. Harry's brow furrowed as he thought about what Ginny had said. He'd never really given any thought to his sexuality. He'd not really ever had the time. Everyone had always expected him to marry the perfect girl and have a handful of children. Until then it hasn't occurred to him that their sexualities were the reason their relationship had collapsed.

“I think I might be too.” Harry said, his face scrunching up in mild confusion. “But not one hundred percent, if that makes any sense at all.”

“Of course it does.” Ginny snorted. “You could be bisexual, pansexual, polysexual. The options are practically endless.”

“That sounds much too complicated.”

“Sexuality isn’t a static thing, Harry. It’s fluid. It’s a spectrum.” Ginny tried her best to explain. “Sexuality is different for everyone.”

Harry just nodded and they fell into silence for a moment before moving on to talk about something completely different.

Even after his talk with Ginny about his sexuality, he still struggled greatly with most things surrounding the war.

He hated the funerals. He hated that everyone was dead. He hated that it was all his fault. That he couldn’t do the one thing he was born to do and save them. Most times he showed up to pay his respects before apparating home and curling up in bed and trying to forget those who had passed on.

Ron and Hermione didn’t seem to understand why he had such a hard time dealing with the aftermath of the war. They constantly tried to get him to join them at the Burrow or go out to eat at some muggle restaurant. He always turned down their offers saying he was sick or that there were errands he had to run. He knew his excuses were shit, but he couldn’t bring himself to be around the two of them when he knew that they would just bombard him with questions he didn’t have the answers to.

The only thing that gave him a sense of peace was being with his godson, Teddy.

When Andromeda told him that he could visit whenever he wanted, he spent as much time with her and his godson as he possibly could. Being around someone so small and pure and innocent gave him a sense of hope that he didn’t know he could ever feel again.

The small boy never failed to make Harry smile. Hearing the little gurgles and constant nonsensical babbling from the child made him feel better and he was glad that he could have Teddy in his life.

The first time Draco had showed up to his aunt’s house he wasn’t expecting to be met by the savior of the wizarding world in her living room. Both of the young men froze upon seeing each other, neither of them completely sure of what they were supposed to do in that situation.

Harry had nearly forgotten that Teddy was Draco’s cousin. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the blond would want to visit Andromeda and Teddy. It had taken him a full three minutes to rake his gaze over the man in front of him, observe that he was, in fact, rather fit, and decide that the best course of action was to attempt to be civil with him.

Harry had hoisted himself up off of Teddy’s playmat and sauntered over to the slightly taller blond and extended his hand to him. Draco had eyed him warily, unsure of what Harry was attempting.

“What do you want, Potter?” He’d asked. There was no venom in his words, he was simply trying to understand the situation.

“It occurred to me that we got off on the wrong foot seven years ago. After what we've been through, I’d hate for something as stupid as a school rivalry to get in the way of us being civil now. So,” Harry looked pointedly from Draco to his hand and then back again. “What do you say, Draco?”

Draco's eyes had widened at hearing Harry say his first name so casually. He was a bit taken aback for a moment, having to process what was going on. If what he thought was happening was actually happening, Harry Potter was offering him his friendship, the one thing his eleven year old self had wanted most.

“Are you joking?”

Harry tilted his head to the side, sliding his hands into his pockets. “If I were joking, don’t you think I’d do it in a place that’s a little more public than your own aunt’s house?”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “I suppose you might.” He squinted at the raven haired boy in front of him. “But why would you want to be friends with me?”

Harry shrugged. “Why not? The world’s crazy enough as is, why not give everyone a little shock?”

Draco snorted in amusement, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You sure you’re ready for this?” He asked. “Our friendship would be a commitment.”

Harry laughed and smiled genuinely for the first time in months, and at Draco Malfoy no less. “I think I can handle that challenge.”

Draco shook his head before extending his hand to Harry. “Alright, Potter. Just remember that you brought this on yourself.”

Harry grinned and shook the blond’s hand. “Don’t worry, I definitely will.” He nodded his head towards Teddy who was gurgling away on his playmat. “You want to help me with your cousin?”

“I think I can manage that.” Draco said with a smirk.

Harry and Draco spent more time together when they were both at Andromeda’s house. The two of them found that it really wasn’t all that hard for them to get along. They both enjoyed spending time with Teddy and they found that they had more in common than previously thought.

What Harry didn't expect from his newfound friendship with the youngest Malfoy came one rather rainy night in the middle of July.

Harry had been staring into the out of season fire in the fireplace, getting lost in the flicker of the flames, when a loud pounding sounded at the door.

Not wanting to trouble Kreacher, Harry hoisted himself up off the floor and all but stumbled over to the door, feeling not entirely returned to his legs after having been sitting on the floor for so long. Upon opening the door, Harry was met with a sopping wet Draco Malfoy, his gray eyes staring blankly at Harry's chest.

“Draco?” Harry said. Confusion had colored his tone. He hadn’t even known Draco knew where he lived.

“I’m sorry.” Draco said weakly, his eyes slowly moving to meet Harry’s.

“What?”

“I said-”

“No, I heard what you said, Draco,” Harry said, ushering Draco through the door and into his sitting room. “I just don’t know what you have to be sorry for.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “How could you not?” He hissed.

“Draco-”

“No, Harry! I was a complete prick when we were in school and you’ve just put all that aside like I didn’t side with the Dark Lord during the war! Like I didn’t try to crucio you sixth year!” His voice rose in volume as he talked. “I tormented you and your friends and treated you like shite! I’m supposed to be your enemy, Harry. Not your fucking friend!”

“You’re forgetting the part where I nearly killed you, Draco.” Harry said calmly.

“No, you don’t understand,” Draco starts pacing, his soaked clothes dripping onto the hardwood flooring. “I-I’ve done things. Terrible things, and I don’t deserve forgiveness. I don’t deserve your kindness or your friendship! I don’t understand how you could just let everything go! Why would you ever want to give me a second chance?!”

“Draco, stop!” Harry says sternly, placing his hands on either side of Draco’s face, effectively putting a stop to his pacing. “Just stop, please.”

Draco's breath hitched as grey eyes met green. With a moment's pause, he fisted Harry’s shirt in his hands and pulled him forward, pressing his lips to Harry’s in a kiss.

Seeming to come to his senses, Draco shoved Harry away from him, suddenly pulling his hands into his chest and closing himself off almost immediately.

“I'm sorry,” He whispered. “I'm sorry. So, so sorry.” His brow furrowed and he turned towards the door and began to walk towards it, attempting to leave a shocked Harry behind. He didn't get far before Harry placed a hand on his shoulder and gently spun him around. “Harry…”

Harry rested both of hands on Draco's shoulders, squeezing gently, trying to reassure the boy in front of him that everything was alright. “Do you realize what time it is?” Draco tilted his head to the side, confused. “It's the middle of the night and you're soaked to the bone. You're staying here tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asked, his eyes impossibly wide.

“Of course.” Harry answered with a resolute nod. “You go get showered and I'll get you some pyjamas. We can talk after.”

“Alright.” Draco said, nodding dumbly, turning towards the staircase and following Harry up to the bathroom.

While Draco showerd, Harry gathered up towels and a set of pyjamas that he thought might fit Draco. He’s a little taller than Harry and he worried that all of his pyjama bottoms would be too short. He ended up shrugging and quietly opening the bathroom door, placing the clothes and towels on the counter and closing the door again before walking away and sitting on the stairs to wait for Draco to finish up.

Harry was starting to doze off when Draco quietly and tentatively padded out into the hallway. He sat down next to Harry, unsure of what to do, not wanting to upset him more than he had by kissing him.

“I know what you're thinking, Draco.” Harry said, his voice gentle.

“How could you possibly know that I'm thinking, Potter?” Draco almost hissed his words, but he couldn't find the strength to do so.

“Because I've known you for the better part of seven years and spent a number of them trying to figure you out.” Harry said simply. “I know you think you upset me by kissing me-”

“Didn't I though?” Draco asked, cutting Harry off. Harry sat up, opening his eyes so he could look at Draco.

“If anything, you surprised me.”

“You're not angry?”

“No, why would I be?”

“Well, for starters, you're not gay and you're dating the Weasley girl aren't you?” Draco asked, his cheeks tinged pink.

Harry shook his head, a small smile stretching his mouth. “We actually broke up.”

“What? Why?” Draco inquired, his eyes impossibly wide.

“Because she's gay and I'm bisexual.” Harry answered. “Well, not explicitly because of that. Right after the war, everything had us feeling off kilter and we didn't feel like we went well together any longer so, we ended things between us. Realizing that we weren't straight came a couple weeks after the fact.”

“You mean-”

“Not straight, single and definitely not upset with you.” Harry nodded and picked himself up from the from his seat on the stairs, offering Draco a hand in turn. “Let's get you to bed though. We can talk more about this in the morning.”

“Alright,” Draco took his hand and allowed himself to be led up the stairs to a spare bedroom.

“If you need anything during the night, my room is just at the end of the hallway.” Harry said before turning round, ready to head off to bed himself.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He turned back to look at a vulnerable looking Draco.

“Would you…” He looked at the floor, chewing at his bottom lip, a blush coloring his cheeks. He takes a deep breath before looking at Harry again. “Would you stay with me?”

“I-” Harry started to answer but cut himself off, knowing that he definitely wants to stay. “Of course I will.”

“Thank you.” Draco whispered, his expression sincere.

Harry followed after Draco as he walked over to the bed and slid under the covers. Harry turned out the lights before joining him in the bed and cozying into the bedding, trying to find a comfortable position. After about fifteen minutes Draco's soft snores filled the room and the sound lulled Harry into a shallow sleep.

A scream rips through the air, pulling Harry from his nearly fitful sleep. When he remembers where he was he realizes that the scream must have come from Draco.

The thin boy thrashes next to him on the bed as if he were trying to escape something or, rather, someone.

“Draco,” Harry reaches out to him, gently resting his hand on Draco’s right arm. It doesn't elicit any sort of response so Harry tries again, this time a little louder and shaking Draco’s shoulder. “Draco!”

Draco wakes with a start, his chest heaving with his effort to breathe and his eyes darting about frantically. “Harry?” He calls out to the dark room, his voice hoarse.

“I'm right here,” Harry answers, reaching out and taking Draco’s hand in his. With his free hand he turns on the lamp on the bedside table. “See? I didn't go anywhere.”

“You… I… Harry, I-” He chokes on a sob and covers his mouth with his hand, tears spilling over and falling down his cheeks.

Harry's eyes go wide and he shuffles over to the young man next to him and pulls him to his chest. “Draco, you're safe. It's okay, you're safe.”

Harry feels Draco's tears wet his shirt and he refuses to comment, regardless of how curious he is about what Draco was dreaming about. He rubs gentle circles into Draco's back, trying his best to calm him. After about five minutes, Draco's shoulders stop shaking and he's relaxed against Harry in a fashion he never would have thought possible just a couple of weeks ago.

“I'm sorry.” Draco mumbles, peeling himself away from Harry's chest, wiping his tears with the heel of his hand. “I'm really sorry, Harry.”

“Why?”

“This isn’t exactly something I wanted you to see,” Draco laughs darkly, still rubbing away the wetness on his face. “It’s not something I want you to have to deal with. That’s why I’m sorry.”

Harry shakes his head and takes Draco’s hand in his. “Don't be,” He gently runs his thumb across the pale skin of Draco's knuckles. “We all have our fair share of nightmares, yeah? You've got nothing to apologize for.”

Draco studies Harry’s face, looking deeply into his eyes, searching for a trace of malice and mocking. He doesn’t find anything of the sort, only sincerity and kindness. “Thank you.” Draco squeezes his hand gently.

“Let's try to go back to sleep, okay?” Harry lays down and Draco nods, laying down beside him, his ear pressed to Harry's chest, just over his heart. Draco refuses to let go of Harry's hand.

“Is this alright? Us being in the same bed, I mean.”

“Don't worry about it right now.” Harry shakes his head against his pillow. “Try to get some rest.”

Harry feels Draco nod against his chest before he slips off into sleep again.

-------

part 2

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