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peeves-gurl · 2 years

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Approval?

Fred Weasley×Fem!O.C.

Preview: what's in store for Fred eight years after the war, when a new employee joins their shop?

Word count: 4.6 K

Warnings: age gap (legal), angst, mentions of food, mentions of war and injury, slight struggle with body image, family and kids, mostly fluff, mentions of sex, smut in part 3.

A/N: Hey! Part 2 is here. This is my first ever fic, so I'm very open to suggestions and feedbacks. Huge thank you to @sai-kida134 for editing the story. I hope you like it!

Part 1 || Part 3

“I should get going too.” Ivy said, blushing a little at suddenly being left alone with Fred. She’d been around him several times, but it was always in the presence of George or one of her co-workers.

“Did you have lunch today? I didn’t see you eat.” He quizzed.

“Nope. And you didn’t either.” She reminded.

“I’m fucking tired today. Don’t feel like cooking.” He sighed.

“There’s a really good muggle Chinese restaurant, near Leaky. You should try it.” She suggested.

“Come with me then.” He said simply. “I’m sure you’re tired too. And I owe you one for helping me out today.”

“Oh that’s absolutely alright. I had a great time with Freddy today.”

“And a great time should end with a great meal. Come on now!” He leaped up to her and grasped her hand with his own.

Ivy felt everything slowly fade away at that moment. Her mind went blank when Fred took a hold of her hand, guiding her through the crowd towards the Leaky Cauldron. The scenario she’d made up in her head came to life so unexpectedly that she didn’t even realise when they’d crossed the wall that separated the magical world from the muggle one.

“Is it that one?” Fred asked, tugging her hand and pointing to a newly built restaurant, snapping her out of her dreams.

“Hmm? Oh yeah that one.” She said, taking lead this time and walking him into the restaurant.

They settled down at one of the tables, and their food was served, and they fell into an easy conversation soon enough.

“Thanks for taking care of Junior today.” Fred said. “And thank you again for saving him from the bottles. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you weren’t around.”

“No point worrying about that now. I’m sure you’d have found a way to save him if I wasn’t around,” Ivy said. “Plus he’s really cute.”

“Takes after his best uncle, doesn’t he?” Fred said cockily, making her laugh.

“He is a lot like you, though. I can’t imagine what your parents had to do to keep you and George in check.”

“We were horrible. Probably worse than ten Juniors put together,” He replied. “And we’re seven siblings, each as bad as the other.”

“Your parents are superheroes.” She grinned.

“Definitely are,” He grinned back. “What about your family? Never heard much from you.”

“I’m an only child and I’m not close with my parents either, so it’s pretty boring. My Mum’s a witch, Dad’s a muggle. They’re on a World Tour right now. They write to me sometimes but I haven’t seen them for almost three years.” She shrugged.

“Oh. So you’re... alone?” He asked cautiously, finding the situation weird. He was raised in a tightly knit family and never understood how families could drift apart.

“Yeah, kind of lonely. That’s probably why I’m all awkward while talking to anyone.”

“You’re not awkward. I think you’re quite pleasant actually.” He said immediately. “And you’re not alone now, you’ve got me. George, and Angie too now. Junior’s pretty fond of you, so he’ll be back soon enough.”

“Thanks Fred.” She smiled.

“Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?”

“Nope. Haven’t had one since my ex-boyfriend cheated on me in seventh year. Fucking prick.” She huffed.

“That makes me feel all better.” He grinned, trying to make her feel better. “Haven’t been with anyone for years, unless you consider one-night stands.”

“My ex was terrible at sex so I avoided it as much as I could.” She giggled at the memory. “I’ve never had a one night stand though... Is it worth a try?”

“No harm in trying if you want to. But they’re too desperate in my opinion.” He said. “And you know, once you cross twenty five, I think you’d like to have... more feelings involved.”

“I’ve had enough desperate sex with that git. So I’m just going to stay here.” She laughed.

“I’ll be right with you. I stopped with all that stuff when Junior was born because I spend so much time around him... Wanted to be a good influence and ended up having some sort of abstinence vow.”

“What?” She asked, wide eyed. “You’re Fred Weasley, ‘lady killer’ of Hogwarts!”

Fred raised an eyebrow at that, so she continued to explain what she meant.

“I went to Hogwarts the year after you’d left. Your exit from Umbridge was pretty popular at the time, so girls would go mad at any mention of you.”

“Let’s say ‘lady killer’ Fred Weasley almost got killed in a war, woke up in St. Mungos’ and decided to act more responsibly in his relationships,” He said with a smirk. “That, and the fact that he’s practically disabled, with a fake leg makes him useless.”

“Fred you’re not useless!” She scolded immediately, and without second thought, she grabbed his hand that was resting on the table. “Stop saying that about yourself.”

“Well it’s true. No point denying it.” He shrugged.

“Oh shut up, will you? You’re literally such an amazing person,” She said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “As far as I’ve got to know you, you really love your job and your family, and you’re always so kind to everyone. And you’re obviously not dependent on anyone to do anything for you. Not that it would have been a bad thing if you were, but I saw you run on the street an hour back so that prosthetic doesn’t seem to have changed much in your life, physically that is.”

“You’re so brave to have fought against Voldemort in that war. You kept going through all that pain and you’re still here and I’m so happy to be able to talk to you right now, Fred.” She said, getting almost breathless after that long speech.

Fred just stared blankly at her for a few seconds. He’d rarely mentioned his insecurity to anyone other than his family, and the only thing he’d received were pitiful agreements or bad puns to distract him from it, the latter usually from George or Ron. But hearing Ivy’s words actually made him feel comfortable being himself, for the first time in eight years. He wondered where all that compassion could possibly come from, especially since he’d just found out about the lack of love that she’d received from her family. He looked at the girl in front of him in pure wonder. How could someone be kind enough to accept him the way he was, without showing the slightest bit of pity towards him?

“Thanks... Thank you Ivy.” He smiled slightly, squeezing her hand with his own. “I’ve got loads to thank you for today, haven’t I?”

“I’d do all of it again any day, Fred.” She replied softly. “And if you ever talk yourself down again, I’ll hit you with my bat.”

“Aggressive young lady, aren’t you?” He chuckled.

“Very.”

Fred grinned at that, before getting back to his meal, but not letting go of her hand that was still delicately intertwined with his.

“Speaking of the war,” Fred said after a little while, “were you at Hogwarts that night? I don’t think I ever figured out what they did with younger students.”

“Yeah I was there. I was in my second year so I obviously was supposed to be sent away with underage students,” She said. “But I was kind of stupid, thought it would be a good idea to sneak away from the rest of the group and fight.”

“So you stayed the entire night?” Fred asked in surprise.

“Yup. Almost got caught by Nott Sr. He’s my mother’s brother, actually. She got disowned when she ran away from her arranged marriage and married my father.” She said, and Fred nodded, signalling her to continue.

“He was after me as revenge, had me cornered, but Theo Nott suddenly decided he wanted to save me because we’re cousins. So he jinxed his father and hid with me in a passage in the Dungeons until morning.”

“Explains why Theodore Nott was so happy to see you at the shop,” Fred smiled. “You’ve got a bit of family, see.”

“Maybe. I do see him and Daphne more than my parents. The only good thing from that battle.”

“I really don’t remember much from that night, other than a few of the Death Eaters’ kids joining our side. Hit my head when I got crushed under a wall on the seventh floor.” Fred said.

“I think I saw you in the Great Hall in the morning. Your entire family was there to take you to St. Mungos’.” She replied, subconsciously moving her thumb in circles over Fred’s knuckles.

“Bet I looked handsome as ever.” He said cheekily

“Absolutely marvellous.”

“Better than George?”

“George was a mess that day. I saw him crying with one of your older brothers, I think. And I just hoped you’d be okay.”

“Your wish came true then.” He said, staring right into her eyes, beginning to play with one of the rings on her fingers, making her aware of her thumb’s movement, which she quickly stopped.

“It really did.” She said nervously, her mind forming another wish. I wish I could kiss you, Fred Weasley.

After settling their bill, which Fred refused to let her pay once again, they walked outside onto the muggle street.

“I should head home then. Thanks for today, Fred.” Ivy said, looking up at him.

“I should be the one thanking you, Ivy.” He smiled down at her “That corner seems nice. You can apparate from there.”

“Oh no, I prefer walking, actually. Bit of an after dinner exercise.” She smiled

“It’s late. Mind if I walk you home then?”

“You don’t have to. You look tired.” She said, reaching her hand up to fix his messy hair. “You use your phone right? I’ll text you once I get back.”

“I’m quite enjoying your company,” He replied, once again taking her hand in his. “I thought we could chat some more on the way. Only if you want to.”

“I’d love to.”

The twenty minute walk to Ivy’s flat flew by faster than ever, with Fred’s hand tightly gripping hers as they chatted about anything they could imagine on the way. When they finally reached her door, Fred untangled his fingers from hers, allowing her to unlock it and step inside.

“Come in for a drink?” She asked nervously.

“Gladly, but not today. I’m rather full.” He smiled. “I’ll be off then.”

“Why don’t you Floo back to your place? It’s pretty hot outside to walk anyways.” She suggested.

“Now that, is a good idea.” He smirked, resting his hands on either side of the door frame and towering above her slightly. “Desperate to get me in your apartment, hmm?” He said teasingly, cocking his head to one side.

“You wish.” She retorted, rolling her eyes but still blushing. “Now get in or I’ll take the offer back.”

“YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU HAVE A CAT!” He shouted from the door, and Ivy realised there was a pool of brown fur around his ankles.

“Two, actually. This is Lola.” She said, picking the cat off his feet with one arm, before diving under the couch to retrieve a white cat. “And this is Lizzy. Must’ve missed telling you.”

“I never thought of you as a cat person.” He smiled.

“Really? I thought I look like a crazy cat lady, through and through.”

Fred held his hands out to the cats, and each of them placed a paw in his hands.

“Look Ivy they already like me!” He exclaimed like a little child.

“They’re really friendly.” Ivy smiled at him.

“And I’m very likable.” He said, making Ivy snort with laughter. Of course he was likeable. He was bloody adorable.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” He complimented, walking further inside and looking around the living room, and picking Lola up. “All yours?”

“Yeah. Theo made sure I inherited my share of the Nott fortune. Quite an angel he’s turned into.” She replied, walking into the kitchen with Lizzy and getting the Floo Powder.

“All Daphne’s work, I tell you. He was a spoilt brat back at school.” Fred said, leaning against the fireplace as he ran his fingers through a purring Lola’s fur. “I’m thankful to him now, though.”

“Why?” She asked, stepping into the living room, towards the fireplace.

“He saved you. I wouldn’t have had you if it wasn’t for him.” He answered, letting Lola jump onto the floor and surprising her with a hug and engulfing her in his scent.

Ivy was sure that he could hear her heart beating wildly in her ribcage, and when she rested her head against his chest, she heard his thump at a faster than usual.

“I can’t imagine what it would have been like without you either, Fred.” She whispered into the hug.

“Good thing I’m here then. Don’t let your imagination get to wild.” He said, letting go of her and winking, before grabbing a fistful of the green powder. “Goodnight kitties. See you tomorrow Ivy?”

“See you tomorrow.” She smiled, waving at him with one hand and taming a squirming Lizzy with the other, as he disappeared into the green flames.

Fred knew for a fact now that he didn’t just like Ivy. He was in love with Ivy. And every bit of him knew he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t help it. She was his newfound source of comfort, the person he could talk to about anything in the world without the slightest tinge of awkwardness. Their friendship had grown so much during the next few days that George had asked him if there was something more between them. He’d obviously denied it, even though he knew he can’t ever lie to his brother. Maybe Fred was too obvious, but there was nothing he could do about it. She could brighten his day up with her random chatter and soft smile. He couldn’t stop looking at her, even if she was doing something as mundane as counting the money in the tills. Her hair falling until her waist, her brown eyes that lit up when she smiled, her homely scent that had managed to follow him to the Amortentia section... Fred felt intoxicated by her.

Ivy had never felt what she was currently feeling about Fred. Each morning, she’d wake up, get to practice and then wait impatiently for it to end, so that she could get to the shop and see him. After they would close down for the night, she tried to stay back until the other employees had left, so that she could spend just a few extra minutes around him. She risked admiring him during working hours, sometimes finding him looking back at her, and when their eyes would meet, he’d give her his brightest smile, making all her exhaustion fade away. She was scared of these feelings, and some part of her was sure it was more than just a crush at this point, perhaps even love. But what was the point keeping these feelings if they were never to be reciprocated?

The six ladies of the Weasley family had grown incredibly close over the years and often got themselves a ‘girls day’ to catch up with each other, go shopping and leave the children with the men. On one such day, they decided to visit Diagon Alley and naturally walked into Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes to see how their favourite shop was doing. The twins were obviously aware of their visit beforehand, so as soon as George spotted them walking inside the store, both him and Fred ran up to the women, embracing each one of them and slipping into an easy conversation. After a few minutes, they insisted going around the shop, wishing to have a look at the new products that had been put up for sale.

Ivy was stocking one of the shelves on the first floor, unaware of the latest arrivals at the shop. She was made aware of their presence when she heard Angelina’s voice, calling to her from a little distance, still out of her sight.

“Ivy! Where are you my girl?” She shouted.

“Right here! Hello Angelina.” She waved, walking towards her and realising she wasn’t alone. “Hey everyone.”

“Oh good to finally meet the girl both my Freds won’t stop talking about!” A short woman with ginger hair spoke up.

“You must be Mrs. Weasley.” Ivy said, shaking her hand.

“Hi, I’m Fleur.” A beautiful woman with a strong French accent and long silvery hair said, approaching her and kissing both her cheeks in a proper French greeting. “You seem as nice as Fred says.”

“I’m Audrey. Nice to meet you!” Another woman, as tall as Fleur, with a short black bob and glasses said.

Ivy turned to the two other women, immediately recognising them to be (a very pregnant) Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. She controlled her urge to absolutely fangirl over Ginny, her favourite Quidditch player and idol.

“It’s great to meet all of you. I’ve heard so much about from the twins.” Ivy smiled.

“Angie says you’re training for Quidditch? How’s it going?” Hermione asked.

“It’s going well, Ms. Granger. Thank you.”

“Oh my God, don’t be that formal!” Audrey patted her shoulder lightly. “All of us would like being called by our first names.”

“Yeah. Though it was rather nice being called Ms. Granger.” Hermione said.

“I know!” Ginny exclaimed. “Everyone calls you four ‘Mrs. Weasley’ since you married my brothers, and I’m always like, isn’t that Mum?”

“I love being called Ms. Jones at work. My boss has a bit of a memory problem so she keeps forgetting.” Audrey said, making everyone laugh.

“Honestly, it’s alright being called ‘Mrs. Weasley’ when I’m with Bill, but c’mon!” Fleur said, rolling her eyes. “I’m still a Delacour.”

“Getting married doesn’t make you any less of a Delacour, or Granger, or Weasley or Jones or Johnson.” Ivy said thoughtfully. “Or even Prewett for that matter. That’s forever. People keep forgetting it and that’s what pisses me off about the tradition of taking the husband’s last name.”

“There we go. My kind of person.” Ginny said. “Go feminists!”

“I didn’t think being called a Prewett after so many years could make me feel that good.” Mrs. Weasley said finally, grinning. “I’m going to make sure it’s done more often now.”

“You should, Mum.” Fleur nodded. “Anyways, let’s sit down.”

Ivy got them settled on a couch near the Love Potion section on the first floor and added some chairs, allowing the six of them to sit comfortably.

“Could I get you something? Perhaps some butterbeer?” She asked politely, trying to keep her mind off the fact that the section oozed with Fred’s smell.

“No dear, we’re all settled.” Mrs. Weasley smiled.

“Join us, actually.” Hermione said, patting the empty spot next to herself.

“I’d love to, but I’ve got to get back to stocking up.” Ivy replied.

“Oh come on!” Ginny whined. “One of those gits can do some work for a bit.”

“We’ll let them know you’re on a break.” Audrey said, getting up and leaning against the railing. “OI BOYS! FRED, GEORGE!” She shouted, “IVY’S GOING TO CHILL OUT WITH US.”

“WE’RE NOT LETTING HER DO ANY WORK AS LONG AS WE’RE HERE.” Hermione added casually, before they settled back down.

“GOOD THING! SHE WORKS TOO HARD, DOESN’T SHE FREDDIE?” George shouted from downstairs.

“YEAH SURE!” Fred agreed. “WE’LL BE UPSTAIRS IN A BIT TOO!”

“Thank you.” Ivy said, slightly flushed.

“Hmm so now, tell us what you’ve been up to.” Ginny said, leaning back in her chair.

“I’m just training to be a Professional Beater. I’m a huge fan of yours by the way, and it’s so amazing to meet you!” Ivy replied, slightly squealing the last bit.

“Aww. That’s so sweet of her, isn’t it Gin?” Fleur said, slightly squeezing her hand.

“It really is. Thanks Ivy.” Ginny smiled. "Fred says you've got two cats!"

"Lizzy and Lola, yeah." Ivy smiled back.

"I'm getting little James here next week. If it would be okay, can you get your cats over for a day, please?" Ginny requested. "He loves cats so they'll be a nice distraction to him. Harry and I will be able to shop for a bit."

"Definitely."

Ivy fell into an easy conversation with the women. The level of comfort she felt with the Weasleys was beyond comparison. It didn’t seem like she was meeting them for the first time even for a single moment. No wonder she liked being around Fred and George if they were raised so well.

“What’s that smell?” George asked as he walked towards the women with a disgusted expression a little while later.

“Ugh it’s bad.” Fred said, walking up and placing his head on Ivy’s shoulder as he faced his family. Ivy didn’t know what to do. She’d never imagined him being so close to her, especially in front of his family.

“Must be all the pregnant farts.” He said, scrunching his nose, looking absolutely adorable, and earning gasps from Hermione, Angelina and to Ivy’s surprise, Ginny.

“I just smell the love potions, Fred.” Audrey said sarcastically.

“Maybe your brother-in-law is in love with a troll, Audrey,” Ivy teased, turning to look at Fred, who was still standing the same way. One slight movement and their lips would be touching.

Everyone began to laugh at that, except Fred, who’s eyes were wide as he kept staring at Ivy with a slight pink tinge to his cheeks.

“Gosh, I really like her!” Ginny said, clutching her stomach while laughing.

“We’ve found the one person who can return Fred Weasley’s horrible humour!” Angelina exclaimed.

“Good thing she didn’t turn out like that Verity girl.” Mrs. Weasley laughed.

“Absolutely nutcase that one was.” George rolled his eyes.

“Who’s Verity?” Ivy asked, slightly jealous. Was she one of Fred’s ex girlfriends? Maybe one of those stupid girls who made him feel like he wasn’t enough

“She used to work here. One of the first employees.” Fleur said.

“She acted all nice and sweet for a bit, then turned mad!” Hermione said, making Ivy’s jealousy fade away.

“I always told you she was a bitch, didn’t I?” Audrey said, before quickly turning to Mrs. Weasley. “Sorry mum. Didn’t mean to use that word.”

“Oh that one deserves it!” Mrs. Weasley laughed.

Ivy had never bonded so well with new people. The Weasleys were truly an amazing family, just like she’d heard from people. Hermione’s intelligent talk, Fleur’s caring nature, Audrey’s sarcasm, the Twins’ mischief, Angelina and Ginny’s boldness, all bound together by Mrs. Weasley’s motherly nature made the perfect atmosphere. Ivy truly felt welcomed among them. She did not have a family of her own to care for her and this small interaction with the Weasleys left her yearning for more, even if it was just a friendly chat. She secretly hoped that she could find herself a family, just like this one, who would accept her as one of their own. One day, perhaps. Until then, she’d have to go to the “Singles’ Party” at the Leaky Cauldron the following week and try to get her mind off Fred. Because no matter how lovely every fucking thing about him was, he couldn’t ever be hers.

“So, how’s Ivy doing?” George asked, serving himself some mashed potatoes that he’d had made. They were at the couple’s house, on their monthly dinner with Lee Jordan and his fiancée.

“What kind of question is that George? You meet her everyday too.” Fred said, looking at his brother curiously.

“Mate stop acting like you don’t know what he means.” Lee said from across the table.

“I really don’t know what he means, Lee.” Fred replied, looking around the table. He looked between Angelina and Sophie, Lee’s girlfriend, who seemed to be planning something. “What are you girls up to?��

“We were just talking about you two, Fred. We think you should make a move with her.” Sophie said.

Fred knew exactly what she meant, but chose to keep his confused expression, afraid of giving away his feelings for Ivy.

“Don’t make that face.” Angelina said. “You like Ivy, more than a friend.”

“No I don’t.” He replied too quickly.

“There’s nothing wrong if you do.” Lee insisted.

“But I don’t. What makes you think I do anyways?” He asked, trying to sound casual.

“Fred I’ve known you forever.” George said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’ve never liked a girl so much before.”

“And your Mum approves of her too. She told me. All the girls do.” Sophie stated simply.

“Is that why you girls came to the shop the other day? To meet Ivy?” Fred asked, slightly irritated.

“Fred, Mum’s just worried about you. She’s really happy to hear you talk this way about someone.” Angelina said. “She wanted to make sure you don’t end up breaking your heart. And she’s sure Ivy likes you too.”

“No she doesn’t. She’s so much younger than me, and she’s... She’s got an entire life ahead of her. She deserves a proper man. Not me.” He shook his head.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You are a proper man.” Lee argued.

“Just a prosthetic doesn’t make you ‘improper’,” Sophie added.

“You know what Junior said when he got back from the shop that night?” George said, gaining his brother’s attention. “He asked, ‘Daddy, are Uncle Freddie and Ivy in love?’”

“He’s two George. Kids don’t understand these things.” Fred said, running his hands through his hair.

“Kids are intuitive,” Angelina said. “They just know stuff. They don’t understand it, but they know.”

Fred passed a confused look around the table, unsure of what to say. The five sat in silence for a few minutes, until Lee spoke again.

“There’s no harm in just trying Fred,” He said wisely. “If she says no, you move on with your life, simple. But you can’t keep denying your feelings for her.”

“I’m... I’m not denying it Lee.” He said finally, resting his elbows on the table and leaning his head into his hands. “I like her. Bloody hell, I love her.”

“Then what’s stopping you, brother?” George asked softly.

“I don’t know.” He replied honestly, digging his fingers into his hair and closing his eyes. “It doesn’t feel right... Like I said, she deserves better.”

“You’re hurting yourself Fred. You’re in love with her and you’re trying to stop yourself from loving her.” Angelina said, but Fred remained silent.

“And what if she loves you too?” Sophie asked. “The girl’s probably scared shitless right now, being in love with her boss.”

“She doesn’t love me Sophie. I’m just a friend to her.”

“She definitely likes you more than a friend. From everything I’ve heard about her from you and George, and adding up what Freddy said, she does love you.” Lee said.

“I can’t do it. I can’t. I don’t want to lose her friendship,” Fred said stubbornly. “She feels lonely anyways. She told me so. I don’t want to complicate things further. She trusts me as a friend. I can’t do it.”

“Then what are you going to do?” George asked. “You can’t not do anything!"

“I don’t know Georgie.”

“Why don’t you try going to that Singles’ Party at Leaky next Saturday?” Angelina suggested.

“That’s actually the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“It’s not that bad mate. It’ll take your mind off things for a bit.” Lee said.

“Doesn’t make a difference. I’m a mess.”

“Fred, you really should go. It’ll help clear your mind a bit.” Sophie said.

“They’re right. I think you’ll see others finding new people and want to make a move on Ivy too.” George agreed.

“Fine.”

“Here you go,” Lee smirked, tossing a box of condoms across the table. “I don’t like surprise babies.”

“I’m not hooking up with anyone from that stupid party!” Fred exclaimed.

“Yeah, yeah we know.” Angelina rolled her eyes. “Just keep it. No harm being careful.”

“Angie-”

“Are you actually going to upset the pregnant woman and get me murdered in my sleep?” George scolded, shutting him up for good.

212 notes · View notes

desiredmalfoy · 3 years

Text

Love Lost (D.M. x Reader)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Universe: No Voldy but still pain in this story.

Genre: Angst! And more Angst!

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: The reader feels like she’s losing Draco to Astoria. Does he still love her? Will he fix it?

Warning: Some bad words? Not too many.

{Draco Masterlist} { Main Masterlist }

(Credit to the gif owner)

I was in a mood for angst today lol. After having writers block for so long I finally came up with this. Hopefully I can finish my wips, ships and requests soon! Let me know if you want a part 2

You usually didn’t have a problem with any of Draco’s friends. Sure, some of them could be real idiots but for the most part they were nice to you. But you had recently ran into a problem, and her name was Astoria Greengrass. She was Daphne’s little sister who painfully obviously had a crush on your boyfriend. You hated seeming like an over jealous girlfriend, so you didn’t know how to truly react to this.

He had begun to spend more time with her after she had practically begged him for help in potions. She had come up to him in the common room when you were studying and pleaded with him for help. Her eyes seemed to sparkle when he finally agreed.

He seemed reluctant at first but ultimately agreed. He had said to you, “I’m only helping her so that she doesn’t tell her parents I refused. Last thing I need is my parents' comments.”

It had started innocent, he would help her twice a week in the library. As the weeks progressed, they were hanging out more and more often. He would finish quidditch practice and then meet her in the common room. Telling you that he would see you later but later never came.

He had even forgotten one of your dates. He apologized profusely and promised to make it up to you. He didn’t, he forgot too.

One date became two and then you lost count. You were tired of being disappointed.

You had walked into the common room after spending the evening studying with Pansy. All your friends had gotten together to study for an upcoming potions exam. All except Draco who didn’t show up. After walking in, that’s when you saw the two of them sitting in a corner table of the common room. You felt your stomach drop. Your mouth began to dry up and it felt sticky. You didn’t know how to react.

“What an arse”, Pansy mumbled to you. She reached for your hand to give it as squeeze. Letting you know she’s there for you. She had heard you complain all the time, she knew the pain you felt. And she was over seeing you getting walked over.

“Oh looks who’s here (y/n)! We finally found him!” Pansy exclaimed dramatically. This caused the two of them to break from their world and turn to the two of you.

“What do you mean Parkinson?” Draco asked, breaking the silence in the room. The air felt stifling. Astoria only looked up at you and Pansy, not making a comment.

“We were all meant to study together.” Pansy answered bluntly. “Did you forget that too Malfoy?”

“What the bloody hell do you mean?”

“You seem to forget everything as of late” You got the courage to speak up suddenly, beating Pansy. You glanced over at her as she gave you an encouraging look.“ I mean you always seem to forget our dates.”

The lump in your throat grew more and more by the second.

“Babe I-”

“I’m getting quite tired. It’s been a long steady session. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” You interrupted him, stopping him before he spoke. You had enough of this and the last thing you needed was for them to see you cry.

You let go of Pansy's hand and adjusted the strap of your bag. You made your way towards your dorm, trying to get out of there as fast as possible.

You walked into your dorm, slamming it shut. You threw your book bag across the room. Letting out some of the anger you felt. You grabbed a pillow from your bed and threw it at the door. You threw yourself onto your bed, frustrated beyond belief. The door opened and revealed the last person you wanted to see.

“What are we exactly”, you asked bluntly as he walked into your dorm. Draco looked at you confused as he looked towards you.

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I don’t feel like your girlfriend anymore.” You rolled your eyes at his lack of comprehension. “You barely want to be around me it seems. I haven’t seen you in days Draco but you know who has? Astoria.”

“Don’t be bloody ridiculous (y/n). She’s my friend and nothing more. You’re overreacting.” It was his turn to roll his eyes at you.

You stood up suddenly and went to stand face to face with you. “Really? A friend is someone who’s super touchy with you? Someone who openly flirts with you?”

“She’s my friend! You’re just jealous!” His face was becoming redder with anger.

“You’re so draft Draco!” You threw your hands up in anger. Your voice rising slightly in pitch as you kept on getting angrier. “Everyone can see it! Hell, even Crabbe asked me if I was even still your girlfriend. You know how bloody obvious it has to be for that git to see it?”

“You know you wouldn’t like it if it was another guy treating me the way Astoria is with you.”

“She doesn’t like me!” He yelled, frustrated at the situation and at himself. Because it was finally dawning on him what a horrible boyfriend he had been these past few weeks. “And it doesn’t matter if she did because I don’t like her! Please understand that (y/n)!”

“Yes it does! Because you don’t set any boundaries and let her do whatever. You let her think you’re interested. And not one time do you stop & think about me.”

“You have forgotten our dates! You literally left me all alone waiting for you in the astronomy tower because you never showed.” You continued your rant and Draco stayed silent at your outburst. He stared at you with wide eyes and shock. He had never seen you like this.

“Did you know I’m not doing the best on potions anymore? I’m struggling and you don’t seem to care Draco. But sure, as long as Astoria is passing it’s okay I guess.” You were crying at this point as you continued you’re rant. Tears freely flowing from your cheeks. You hated crying, you hated seeming weak.

Draco attempted to wipe the tears from your cheeks but you moved away. Not wanting him to touch you right now. You let out a deep breath, voice quivering. “I don’t know how much more I can handle. My heart can’t take much more.”

“What do you mean darling? I love you. Please (y/n), I love you so much. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I think you’re a little too late for that.”

“Please. Please think about this. I’m so sorry.” He was now starting to cry himself, something that was rare for him. He didn’t just cry for anyone. But his tears didn’t take away the hurt he had caused.

“You’ve broken my trust. You’ve hurt me. It’s going to take more than saying I’m sorry to let this all go.”

“I’ll do anything love.”

“You have to see where your heart lies. If you do actually love me, you’ll have to gain my trust back Draco.”

“Babe…” he grabbed your cheeks titling your head to look at him in the eyes. Both your eyes shining from the tears. “I’ll do that and so much more.”

“For the sake of our relationship, I hope you mean it. But I think I need some time to myself tonight and maybe tomorrow too.” You grabbed his hands, taking them away from your face. You gave them a slight squeeze before letting them go. Hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time you held them.

He left without saying another word. As you watched him walk out of your dorm, you dropped to the floor. Letting all the emotions of the past weeks flowing out. All the hurt, all the sadness and all the angry flowing down your cheeks.

Thoughts? Part 2??

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smelted-applejuice · 4 years

Text

Left Behind.

Parings; c!Wilbur Soot x Reader Pronouns; she/her Desc; Wilbur Soot left too soon, way too soon. TW: DEATH, MENTIONS OF DEATH, MOURNING, VANISHING TWIN SYNDROME, PREGNANCY.

Requests are open, feeling angsty today -

The ear-piercing scream that was heard throughout L’manberg was evident. If it wasn't for [YourName]’s brother-in-law, she probably would have hit her head and injured herself. Tommy gently set [YourName] down, in the same amount of shock as her, he watched [YourName] slam the ground and beg for Wilbur to be alive.

“PLEASE! PLEASE OH MY GOD,” [YourName] sobbed, holding the ground. Her fingers dug into the ruined dirt, her nails getting covered in dirt and soot from the TNT. Philza’s face softened, he had murdered his son for a good cause, but to watch his daughter-in-law break down was just as horrible. He watched [YourName] push herself up and make her way over to the cave Wilbur had dug out for this operation, helping her up, and stood there watching [YourName] cradle Wilbur’s face.

There, Wilbur laid in the lap of his wife with a smile on his face. The sword that was used to murder him remained in his body as it was hard for Philza to even think about yanking it out, that was his boy, his son, his pride and joy, and he just murdered him. Wilbur’s eyes remained closed no matter how much [YourName] whispered out begging for him to open them up.

Philza placed a hand on her shoulder, gently forcing her up from her spot. She was too tired to fight back, she just laid limp reaching out for her husband despite the reassurance that he won’t come back- [YourName] believed he would. She just knew Wilbur would awaken and come join her in bed and hold her close just as he did twice before.

But he never did.

Wilbur never came, and Tubbo was assigned president while [YourName] mourned the death of her husband. Fundy couldn’t understand why [YourName] was so attached to such a person, but then he remembered she loved him and had a connection with Wilbur that he didn't have. As jealous as he was, Fundy remained around and built a home for himself and his step-mother.

When everything was finalized, finished, and moved into, it scared everyone when [YourName] fainted in the middle of New L’manberg. Fundy was a moment too late and poor [YourName] had to get stitched for the cut on her forehead. She and Fundy had assumed it was just because she was mourning, but when Philza sat down in front of them after doing more research, they both knew it was way more.

Fundy placed a hand on his mother’s shoulder and prepped for the news. “[YourName], you’re six weeks pregnant. Twins. I assume you didn’t know this?” Philza spoke, “S-Six weeks?! TWINS?!” [YourName] repeated frantically making Philza nod. Fundy blinked a few times before letting out a soft scream of a fox, “I’M A BROTHER?!” he asked repeatedly pacing back and forth. “Six weeks, Wilbur died four weeks ago- oh my god, I haven’t been with anyone else, oh my god, Philza-“ [YourName] spoke sending herself into a panic, “That's great, you have a piece of his legacy no one else has..” Phil said gently holding her hands.

[YourName] began to cry, glad to have such a thing with her but mourned her husband. She looked up and realized the excitement had worn off and Fundy and now he was panic pacing. His ears were down and his tail was no longer wagging, he anxiously played with his jacket, so [YourName] dropped Philza and made his way over to Fundy to calm him down. She played with his hair, held his face, and hugged him gently, everything she could to ground and remind Fundy that it’s all okay. It just gave more proof how despite everything happening to her right now, she was ready to parent. And that’s what makes a good parent, a good parent.

Philza softly smiled and sighed out, “Despite everything you’ve gone through, you’re still there for Fundy. You’re a good mother, [YourName].” he explained with a smile. [YourName] glanced away from Fundy for a moment and gently smiled, “Oh, Uhm, thank you?” she said dropping her hands to her step-son’s elbows. Fundy hugged [YourName] while she was still distracted, just sucking in as much [YourName] time he could get before leaving and returning home. Fundy would admit, he’s worried about being left behind, but wouldn’t voice them until dinner. [YourName] thanked Fundy for the food and ate quietly until he spoke up, “You won’t leave me right?” he asked randomly. [YourName] was confused at first, but then it clicked, “Your father wasn’t the best at expressing love once he had a focus. I can do that, even with a new baby coming around- I’ll always have time for you, Fundy. You’re my son, doesn’t matter if I didn’t give birth to you or not.” [YourName] explained with a smile. That smile brought comfort to Fundy, instead of talking he returned focus to his food. For the next few weeks, no updates were given about [YourName]. After her stitches were taken out and things returned normal, she would begin showing- that’s how everyone found out Wilbur was going to have a second kid. Because of this, Tubbo made sure Ghostbur had zero access to [YourName], not wanting to trigger anything inside of him that would result in a negative reaction. Ghostbur wasn’t Wilbur and who knows the powers that ghost has hiding behind him. “I just want to see my wife! How’s [YourName]?” Ghostbur huffed, crossing his arms but quickly recovered floating around Tubbo who was working hard on some paperwork. Tubbo frowned for a moment, he was struggling harder and harder every day to hide [YourName] from Ghostbur. “She’s fine, she misses you too. Now, Ghostbur, go bother Philza, I need to make a few choices.” Tubbo mumbled watching Ghostbur rush through a few walls to return outside and find his father. Ghostbur floated through the top of Philza’s house where he had expected Phil to be, but instead, he was nowhere to be found. He gently floated downstairs, having yet to reveal himself, where he heard his wife’s voice and Philza talk. Joy rushed through his spirited body but halted when he processed that [YourName] was crying.

“It happens, and luckily one of the twins remained. You didn’t cause this, it’s natural.” Philza comforted, [YourName] nodded “I just- I feel horrible, I didn’t even know that was possible! Wilbur would be so upset” she explained. “Wilbur wouldn’t be upset at you though, some pregnancies result in one twin absorbing the other- and this was one of the cases,” Phil explained letting [YourName] lean against him. She took the water in front of her and drank some of it, not even noticing Ghostbur watching from the steps.

[YourName] stayed for a few more minutes, but left soon after. “[YourName] is Pregnant?” Ghostbur asked Philza, making him jump and nearly drop the glass he had in his hand. “GHOSTBUR!” Philza yelped, “Oh, hehe sorry, but my dear [YourName]. I-Is Wilbur the father?” Ghostbur asked softly. Phil debated on his next move and softly sighed “You’re the father, you were Wilbur before you were Ghostbur'' he explained gently, he didn’t want to make the ghost worry. “I should go talk to her-“ Ghostbur said, turning around and going to dash off, “NO-“ Philza yelled.

Ghostbur stopped in his tracks, “Why not?! First Tubbo, now you, I just want to see my wife!” he pouted before pulling some blue out and calming down. Philza sighed, “She’s not ready, she's fragile.” he whispered toward his dead son “She probably will react negatively and confusingly, and we don’t want that or her to get hurt.” he added trying to dumb down their reasoning. Ghostbur just sighed, accepting it as it is.

It didn’t stop Ghostbur from watching her though, he would go invisible and follow Fundy around the house and watched as his son helped out [YourName] around. “You’re coming up seven months, you need to be careful, I can hear dad screaming at us.” Fundy explained easing his mother into a chair and picking up what she was trying to get, “He’d have to suck it up, I can't be held down.” [YourName] jokingly pouted. Fundy just smiled and patted his mother’s hair, “I’m making lunch, I’ll be back.” he said leaving for the kitchen.

Ghostbur sat there and watched [YourName] shift in her spot but gently place a hand over top of her enlarged stomach. The womb that housed his and [YourName]’s baby. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but from the observations he’s made, Philza was right. Every night she’d wake up and reach over, what he remembered, to be his side of the bed and proceed to cry on a bad day into his old L’manberg coat. He obviously left his mark on his wife and he didn’t mean the baby.

Around the time [YourName] was suppose to go into labor, her emotions did a one-eighty and she no longer searched for Wilbur’s side of the bed for him or found herself begging for her husband to be alive. She didn’t know why, but it began feeling as if Wilbur was there and holding her hand through every step of the way, and that's why when she gave birth she was more than ready. While Ghostbur took this as she no longer missed him, the reality was [YourName] was just trying to be mentally there for her child. She couldn’t be the one waking up in the middle of the night crying, she had to be stronger. Ghostbur was in distress but didn’t want to tell anyone he’s been stalking his wife and child. He would get scolded by Philza, he had told him to leave them alone. But he just couldn’t he gave into his curious nature and just ended up hurting himself more, he couldn’t speak to [YourName] or give her blue on the nights she needed it more and he sure as hell blamed himself for it. He blamed himself, not Wilbur, and it hurt even worse than he thought it would.

The morning that [YourName] gave birth, it was hot and humid which added nothing good for the woman. Fundy was off the rails with stress, rushing around to get Philza. He didn’t know that Philza had taught Niki how to assist with labor, so now Fundy had to rush from Philza’s place to Niki’s place which meant an extra ten-twenty minutes of rushing around and leaving his mother in pain at the house. He didn’t want to leave [YourName] alone for more than he had to. By the time he returned to the house with Niki and Philza, [YourName] had managed to get into a spot and had everything right. Philza softly chuckled, “Might as well have the child on your own!” he said jokingly as he double-checked everything was there. Fundy hissed in surprise while [YourName] groaned, not really here for jokes just wanted this to get over with already! Niki shook her head, “It’s okay, [YourName], we’re going to give birth to this baby and the world will have another Soot on their hands!” she comforted patting [YourName]’s leg. The birth lasted HOURS, never in [YourName]’s life had she felt the pain she felt when giving birth to her child. As it was described by her mother, everything had been lifted off her shoulders and the pain was no longer there. The cries of her baby had rung throughout the home and outside she could hear the squeaks and excited yells from Techno and Tommy. They were just here for moral support- well WHEN did they get here? What the fuck? While [YourName] held her child, which turned out to be a girl, she thought back on the many conversations she and Wilbur ended up having before his death. Children were often a topic that was brought up when the future was mentioned, mostly after their marriage when Fundy was still younger. They had agreed on the name Fern, for ferns were pretty and it would- “Fit my perfect Princess,” Wilbur said placing a kiss upon his wife’s head. [YourName] giggled and grabbed Wilbur’s dirty L’manberg coat and dropped it in the water for washing. “You’re crazy, we’re not having a child while we’re at war, Darling.” [YourName] said looking up at him, “I know, but I think Fern would be the perfect name for our daughter, Rowan for a boy! Don’t they sound lovely?” Wilbur asked squatting across from his wife. Fundy had fallen asleep under the tree close by, this moment was perfect. “Absolutely” [YourName] replied leaning over the bucket and kissing her husband’s lips. “Fern.” [YourName] whispered gently rubbing a finger across her daughter’s cheek, Niki looked up from washing her hands and hummed “What?” Niki asked confused. “Fern. I think Fern would be perfect for her. Wilbur often mentioned that name.” [YourName] reiterated, “Oh! That is a cute name, shall I let the boys know they’re able to come in now?” she asked making the new mother nod. Niki left and entered all the boys under the roof, they entered quietly as possible, Tommy nervously fiddling with his shirt sleeve. [YourName] smiled softly looking up, “Hello boys, meet your niece, sister, and granddaughter; Fern.” she said revealing the sleeping newborn in her arms. Philza smiled, had stepped out of the room, and let [YourName] have more privacy as the birth went on. Fundy gasped at the smallness while Techno did his best not to melt on stop. Tommy was the first to speak, “It looks like him.” he whispered in awe, Techno nudged his brother harshly making [YourName] giggle. “It’s fine, Wilbur is her father.” she hummed. Finally, her family was mostly complete. A few months would pass, Fern would hit important milestones like eating, teething, crawling, all of those- but it didn’t feel the same without Wilbur. Wilbur must’ve had fox in him because after Fern’s first week, [YourName] and Fundy both noticed itty bitty fox ears and tail on the child. Fundy was beyond excited to show his sister how hunting works as a fox hybrid and how to pick the right berries, it was just a lovely sight to see. For each step, Fundy was there for his sister and his step-mother. For once, Fundy wanted to make Wilbur proud but in his own way. By taking care of his family, something his father couldn’t do. One day, [YourName] got away from Fern and Fundy. Today would be brother and sister bonding while [YourName] had a mother’s day off. She didn’t know what to do, but she finally sucked it up and got dressed. Today would be the first time [YourName] doing what she’s doing. It had been a year since Wilbur’s death and she had yet to visit his grave, and with no one home, she left to visit. To finally be His Visitor.

#dream smp x reader #wilbur soot x reader #c!wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #Wilbur soot x y/n #c!wilbur soot x you #c!Wilbur Soot x y/n #mcyt x reader #x reader

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poetrusicperry · 3 years

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the poets go to ikea for the first time !!!

sooo this morning i made a list of things i have to take back to college with me and i always pack my stuff in these big, blue ikea bags which got me thinking about what the poets would be like in ikea bc i genuinely cannot do anything anymore without thinking about how the poets would do it HAHA. so here we are lol– i hope you guys like this !!(:

neil: something tells me that neil would really enjoy ikea. there are so many tiny little relics and fun decorations to browse as well as models/displays that are so nicely put together. just the right kinds of things to appease neil’s hidden juvenile wants (since he never got to experience a real childhood with his parents treating him like an adult since he was like 8). for example: all of the neat little stuffed animals and children’s bedroom sets that have all sorts of fun colors, etc. neil would appreciate the whole aesthetic of the store as well, liking how well-organized and modern it is inside. would definitely hide behind pieces of furniture in the displays to scare todd. also he is in charge of pushing the cart (that charlie is proudly sitting in bc he doesn’t want to “walk around everywhere”).

todd: like neil, todd appreciates the feel of the place bc he’s always had a bit of an interest in interior design, but is a little bit overwhelmed with just how big it is both outside and inside. desperately wants a djungelskog bear (which neil buys for him, bc of all the things neil struggles with, saying “no” to todd is certainly the biggest one). genuinely freaks out every single time neil scares him, even if he should see it coming after the second or third time. trails behind the group, (as he seemingly always does), taking special note of certain things he’d like to have in his own house one day (’:

knox: upon being invited, he seemed hesitant bc it’s just a furniture store, big whoop (”will there be girls there at least?”), but once they got there he was incredibly thrilled that there was a cafeteria and insisted that they go there both before shopping and after shopping (”look at how big the store is, don’t you think we’ll be hungry again by the time we’re done?”). definitely would rather be doing something else, but is just happy to be spending time around his pals (:

charlie: as previously stated, king of the cart. refuses to get out and walk because it’s “a big store and he’s tired.” neil doesn't mind pushing him, though. fully embraces the semi-chaotic feel of ikea during the weekend (so many people, which is not good for todd, but charlie full-on thrives). he would also insist on actually buying a few pieces of new furniture for his and cameron’s room (completely oblivious to the fact that he will actually need to assemble the pieces himself until they get down to the warehouse), even though it would most definitely be confiscated by mr. hager (”they’ll only confiscate it if they find it,” charlie says, to which cameron replies, “i’m pretty sure a full size vanity and bureau would be pretty easy to scope out, dumbass.” then they both flip each other off). he is definitely the reason knox decided to come after charlie begged him for at least ten minutes (”c’mon, knoxious, it’ll be fun! even if there aren’t girls there, you’ll still have me to look at (;”). offers to buy neil a couple of the stuffed animals he’s been eyeing bc he just wants to see his best friend happy. has to go back up and around the store to take note of numbers of the furniture he actually wants bc he didn’t understand how it worked (”all that time in the cart, wasted” and ”they should really have like an instruction manual before entering the store??”). and enlists meek’s help trying to find the right boxes of parts because “he’s smart like that”. still stays squished in the cart even when he puts all the boxes in it

meeks: just along for the ride, honestly. he just likes spending time with his buddies, but isn’t hesitant about going out and doing things like knox (“i’ll try anything once!”). gets into a pillow fight with pitts in one of the displays, garnering the attention of an ikea employee who sternly asks them to “act their age” and to “fix all the things they made fall on the ground”. the most adventurous eater at the cafeteria; tries the swedish meatballs and really likes them (”we have to come back here just to eat these again, guys”). rates each display on a scale of 1-10 and gives reasons for why he likes things and why he doesn’t (mostly in a joking way).

pitts: bumps his head on some of the hanging arrow signs that direct you into the next section of the store, sighs after every time. buys matching stuffed animals with meeks (’: is the designated driver, and never asks for gas money from his friends bc like knox and meeks, he just likes hanging out (but they give him gas money anyway !!). asks neil for a turn pushing the cart, which neil agrees to. when in control of the cart, bumps it into things, much to charlie’s displeasure (”wouldn’t peg you as a horrible cart driver since you’re the only one with your license, but alas, i was wrong”). feels v bad for getting in trouble w meeks about the pillow fighting and makes sure to fix any messed up things in any of the displays following the incident. also unsure of how much space is in the car for charlie’s boxes, leading him to argue against the purchase of any items.

cameron: also didn’t get the allure of a furniture store, but tagged along because he wanted to get off campus (and really does care about making time and hanging out with his friends, though he’d never admit that). pickiest when it came to the food court/cafeteria (”i just don’t want to try it, why do i need a reason ??”). actually considered buying a new desk organizer, but refused when charlie said it would look great on their new vanity (”charlie, they’ll confiscate that, too. how many times do i have to explain it ??”). unlike meeks, seriously rates each display on a scale of 1-10 talking about how some of the colors just don’t go, and it hurts his eyes to look at it. lowkey got lost for a bit and freaked out bc he couldn’t find anyone, but caught up with todd finally when they were exiting the kitchenette section. this caused him to ask what todd was doing all the way back behind the group, leading to a small, but nice conversation they had (”just making some notes about things i like for later on” todd had said. “that’s really cool, todd,” cameron smiled back at him, unknowing that todd was most certainly picking out things that not only he would like, but neil, too). finally caved and helped charlie build the new furniture when they got back because as much as he couldn't stand charlie sometimes, it made for an incredibly interesting bonding session.

anyway, that’s all. i feel like the poets out in public and not on campus just harness a complete chaos anywhere they go HAHA. idk if this sucked or not, but it was super fun to write hehe. happy sunday i don’t want to go to work tomorrow, but such is the life of someone who has rent and bills to pay in the coming months, sigh

#dead poets society #neil perry #todd anderson #charlie dalton #steven meeks #gerard pitts #richard cameron #dps headcanons #ikea is actually sick #but you really can get lost HAHA #dps #dps boys #anderperry #neil and todd

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myfriendthecouch · 2 years

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I need some kind of help, hopefully someone here can provide something. If not, oh well. I’m tired of seeking advice on Facebook.

Two of my closest friends, my therapist and I are all in agreement that inpatient treatment (or at the very least an IOP). I’ve officially hit rock-bottom, I no longer feel like I can keep myself safe, I am starting to rely on cannabis to get me through the nights (fine for some people, for me it isn’t ideal. I don’t even react well), I don’t even feel like I can function as a human.

I really feel like I have lost everything that matters to me.

I am struggling to pick up the pieces. I am sick and tired of being in a constant state of sadness or panic. I need medications that help me. I need a plan that helps me. I just need help.

There’s a couple huge caveats though.

1. I do not want to go alone.

Checking myself into a mental hospital by myself fucking terrifies me. I don’t have a close friend near enough to me that I want to go with me. Right now my options are ex-boyfriend and ex-bestfriend who was horribly abusive to me. Not exactly the best pickings, but I do have a good relationship with my ex now.

2. My family will probably be pissed

I hide this stuff from them for this reason my therapist already told me to bring a friend and to not even tell my parents until after I’m admitted. They’re already dealing with a lot. I don’t want them to be upset that I have to go back. A close friend keeps telling “they’ll be even more upset if their child is dead”, and yeah they’re right, but still.

I do not know how to navigate this. I really don’t want to do this alone. I don’t even know if I will go through with it. I do feel like I am at a point where I need it, and that says a lot considering how much I hate these places. The place I am considering is good, I did an intensive program for BPD a few years back. But the places I’ve done inpatient at were complete shit.

Do I ask my ex to come with me? Do I just go by myself? How do I get over my parents possibly being mad? I’m so terrified.

#I need help #self help #self care #mental health #mental illness #personal #I need advice #inpatient treatment

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80s4life · 3 years

Text

The Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Word Count: 4,438

Status: Not Requested

Fandom: Back To The Future 1985

Relationship: Biff Tannen x Female Reader

Summary: As time is altered for a total of 2 weeks (I extended it slightly), you and Marty struggle to get his parents under control, having problem after the next. But, when an unexpected solution occurs, you find yourself willingly okay with it, soon finding the exact reason as to why.

Warnings: language, fluff, Biff being a dick, slight angst, cute Biff

Masterlist Back To The Future Masterlist

Prompts: (from this list @youneedsomeprompts)

Y/C/S= Your Choice of Sport/ Your Chosen Sport (you don’t have to honestly play one, just choose one you like or one that comes to mind)

{gif and prompts are not mine, gif credits go to @backtothefuturemovies and credits were given above for prompts!}

No one ever said time travel was fun. No one ever said the job was easy. And no one sure as hell told you the consequences that come with it. Well, at least not before you, and your best friend, Marty McFly, had gone dead-on through a barn, sacred a neighboring family of ‘alien invasion,’ run into younger McFly parents, and altered time just enough to fuck you over for a few days.

I mean, who would’ve guessed right? Your mom just so happens to be romantically interested in you, their child. Well, that was at least in Marty’s case. For you, you had just managed to run into the biggest dickhead of the century, Biff Tannen. Or so you thought?

Making your way out of bed, you automatically go to where Marty was sleeping in the garage, waking him along with Doc up. The go-to plan for the day was to go undercover as usual students in the 50′s, secretly following Marty’s parents around, finding out where they lie in this part of time, and try to find ways into manipulating them together once more in time for Marty and you to get back home. Easy enough, right?

Groaning, Marty goes to slap your hands away weakly, mumbling something along the lines of ‘Just a few more minutes.’ You giggle slapping his hands back in an attempt to wake him up cheerily. Mornings weren’t really your forte either, so any upbeat wake-up is better than a pissy, tired, horrible morning.

Doc, on the other hand, was happy to return the affection, getting out of bed to give a quick hug and kiss to the forehead. Then he makes his way over to the bed, going to tickle Marty’s feet as you go to tickle his sides. Finally, in a fit of laughter, Marty gets up and goes straight for the bathroom. You were going to argue him, having to use the bathroom first, but decide to just leave it be, heading for the makeshift kitchen instead.

You smile fondly as Doc and Marty play around a while later, wrestling about, cracking jokes. It was only just a few hours ago that you and Marty had witnessed the untimely death of the currently very lively man in the house. Witnessing the blood loss, the machine gun in action, and the bullets that whizzed pass with only one malicious intent: to kill. But he’s here now; he’s safe and sound, having many years until that date will arrive.

With the freshly cooked smell of eggs, toast, and pancakes, the boys straighten up, Doc clearing his throat in an attempt to organize himself, and Marty leaving his shirt ruffled as he follows the smell of deliciousness. You giggle as both men of different ages act exactly the same, piling their plates high and digging in, giving thanks through mouthfuls.

///LATER///

After breakfast had finished, you and Marty made your way to the school, not wanting to be late, and, quite frankly, not wanting to miss a second in the disaster we’re in, wanting to fix it as soon as possible. Upon entering, the building erupts in laughter, tears, screaming, perfume, cologne, aftershave, and lots and lots of both testosterone and estrogen. Fucking high school, you smile.

Going to “your locker” right besides “Marty’s,” you both place the books and supplies that are unneeded inside it and take only the things you need for the first two classes, somehow having those together. As Marty catches glimpse of his father, George McFly, he winks at you, moving to catch up to him. Rolling your eyes playfully, you turn back towards your locker, just barely missing a group of young men some ways down the hallway, locking eyes with a particularly taller man, towering almost everyone in the halls.

You pay no mind, however, being blindsided by three girls your age. Instantly, you recognize the one right in front as Lorraine, Marty’s mother. Smiling nervously, your cheeks tint only a little, being unprepared to see her so quickly, not yet having a plan made up on how you could help tackle the situation with Marty.

“Hiya! I’ve never seen you before, are you new here? I’m Lorraine Baines, and you are?” she asks cheerfully, her books clasped tightly to her chest.

Taking an obnoxiously long time staring dumbfounded, you finally realize you haven’t spoken, quickly recovering with newfound purpose and confidence, “Ah, yes! I am new here! Sorry, I’m just trying to get used to this place a tiny bit. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well that’s quite alright, you can come with us!” she says once more in a cheery tone, taking you by the arm and lacing her arm around yours, locked elbows. You smiled, knowing exactly where Marty’s cheerful and people-person nature had come from. Walking down the halls, she had asked for my schedule, checking classes to see what we had together, “English, History, and Agriculture- Hey! You should try out for cheer leading!”

Shaking your head lightly, “Nah, I’m more of a Y/C/S myself to be frank.”

“But...We don’t have that sport here? There are no girls sports at all actually...” Lorraine says confused. You go to cover it up, choosing to say it was a sport you play for fun at home, in the backyard. However, a beefy arm separates you momentarily from her, as the owner of the harm moves to pin her to the lockers.

You were going to walk away, figuring it was some sort of make-out session in the works, but upon looking at her before going, you notice that the man was absurdly unwanted.

“Get your meathooks off me Biff!” she screams at the man, his huge form towering her much smaller one. Not taking the message, the pair continue to squabble, neither of them being successful in winning. The warning bell sounds over the halls and classrooms, alarming kids to get their asses moving, but it seems whoever this dick is, he feels he is greater than the school, and god forbid, knowledge.

“Hey, you do realize your not making a damn bit a difference, right? She’s not interested! And, quite frankly, it seems as if no one does! Now, if you don’t mind, could you please be kind enough to unhand her as some of us treasure a piece of mind and how to take a hint?” you finish, quite ticked off as the last bell warns, cursing under your breath as you already know your in for detention on the first day.

It finally seems that he’d caught a grip, thankfully, letting go of Lorraine’s arm and she quickly scurries out of his proximity, taking your hand to lead you to the class you both needed to be in. As you go to walk in, you are stopped by the teacher, scolding both you and Lorraine. Looking at her regrettably, she smiles defeated. So you decide to do what’s right, take the fall.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know where to go as I was trying to find where all of my classes were before I ended up lost every time classes switch. I caught up to Lorraine here at some point, and as she was hurrying to this class, she was kind enough to show me where I needed to be,” you finish, sighing guiltily.

“Well, as you’ve taken acknowledgment to your mistake, then you’d be just as happy with detention. After school, on Friday, as the first week is extremely busy. As for you, Miss Baines, thank you for your help. You are off the hook for now,” the older gentleman finishes, nodding to each of you personally before turning around and beginning just one of the classes you’d have today. This is going to be fun!

///LATER///

Finally, after grueling hours of just a few of your classes, lunchtime had came round, giving you a slight break. Catching sight of Lorraine, you smile and wave, going in the direction of Marty, or Calvin Klein, as you’d heard Lorraine go on and on about. You’d known it was him the second she’d said it, the brand not yet known to man yet; or at least in this timeline, it wasn’t.

As time had went on, it was only natural for the peace to be broken, as a newly familiar face was starting to appear more and more, Biff Tannen, as you’d known his name by now. But, instead of heading towards Lorraine, he makes his way over to the table you were residing with George and Marty, sitting himself right beside you.

At first, you were trying to ignore him, knowing his presence was there, but keeping your eyes trained on either Marty or George, eyes dancing between the two. Biff, being the everlasting child he was, tried to catch you attention, trying stupid ass things after the other: kicking your shins, pulling your ears of hair, flicking your head, and even trying to tug on the 50′s style dress you’d been forced to wear to play your part.

Only when he goes to tug your hair once more is when you finally snap, turning a furious glare to the hulking figure beside you, shoving his shoulder in a feeble attempt to create distance. He giggles at this, his body not moving an inch at all. “You can’t be serious right now! You don’t know when to quit it, do you?!” you scream, fed up with his shit.

“Well, if you’d give me the human decency of turning your head when I’m trying to talk to you, then I wouldn’t have to pester you, now would I?” he asks in a teasing tone, no doubt taunting you, but all you do is stare him down, getting lost in a staring contest, daring him to say something again. “Alls I wanted to say was that we have detention together. Just thought I’d let you know since you got me in all that trouble this morning.”

“Why you-!” And with that, he gets up with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, prancing out of view and back to the table he and his gang usually sit. Watching the whole interaction, George smirks at Marty, the pair giving an unspoken mutual agreement to whatever they had both caught on to, bursting into fits of laughter moments later.

“You have a longer tolerance than I do, I-I-I’ll tell you that much,” George says, his usual slight stutter back in place, Marty laughing once more. As George joins in again, you couldn’t fight it either, giving into the childish antics.

///LATER///

To say your week had gotten any better than the first day was a lie. It hadn’t gotten any better, and your meetings with Biff at lunch had only gotten all the more common and all the more infuriating. He’d made it his duty to agitate you in any ways possible, even resulting in whispering something nagging in your ear when you weren’t paying attention, usually doing something in your locker.

Either way, he was on the countdown to Friday, it being constantly on his mind, mentally counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until the two of you were locked in a room alone.

Unfortunately, that day had seemed to come way faster than you’d like, Friday rolling around quite quickly. School had finished, and you were making your way to the front office, awaiting a tiring 2 hours with only yourself and Biff as company for the time being. You hadn’t known where the room was, and instead of spending time looking for it, you gave up and looked for the office instead, the nice front desk lady leading you where you needed to go.

Upon entering the room, there was Biff in his prime, casually spread across his chair, legs crossed atop his desk nearest the windows. Sighing, you ignore him, deciding to sit on the opposite side of him, the front desk lady giving you a sympathetic smile before she closes the door behind her. You look at the wall, head turned away from him like the plague.

You knew it’d only last so long until he’d speak, the time coming way faster than you pleased. Given it was Friday, you couldn’t even do homework or even study in order to block him out as he started to blabber, running his mouth over stupid shit once more. Inhaling through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth slowly, you straighten in your seat, hands clutching the desk so tight, your fists turned white.

“Biff, Sweetheart, Baby, Doll Face, Hun. Please. PLEASE. Shut up for five god damn seconds. I know you truly have nothing to say, so why do you insist on speaking so much?” you finally say, hands prying off the desk to turn in his direction exasperated.

“Well, if you’d just talk to me, Shortcake, I wouldn’t have much to say at random,” he answers, copying your actions and posture. With this change in childish demeanor, you give in, laughing at him in an unexpected rush, running your hands through your hair tiredly.

Although you hadn’t seen it, he’d smiled in satisfaction upon seeing you laugh, the glitter in your eyes much more captivating than it ever was when he looked at Lorraine. He hadn’t barely pestered her since you’d barreled into his life. It was weird, but he welcomed it with open arms. And for the first time, he learned what it was like to have an actual, clammy-handed, closed throat, warm, cheek-tinted, teenage crush. A crush that left his heartbeat loud and fast, breathing ragged and uneven, and his behavior out of character and out of his control. Lorraine was way under whatever level he’d placed you on, holding you up on a pedestal like you were the sun or sky.

Of course, you hadn’t taken notice to his antics, just thinking he was annoying. Just Biff being his notorious self. But, as you finally calm your breathing down, the giggles fading, you decide to give him a chance, knowing that sitting in silence is just going bore you. Smiling warmly, you say, “So what do you want to talk about then?”

///LATER///

Grabbing your bag, you get out of your seat, giggling at a story Biff had told you. He follows your lead as well, getting his own as he lets out a bark of laughter at a certain part. You guys looked like idiots as you shoved each other down the halls, making your way out of the school as your detention had came to a close. Sighing as the warm sun radiated on your skin with the light, spring breeze, you stretch out any kinks the classroom chairs and desks had left. Biff watched you intently, your small body easily swallowed by his shadow beside you.

The sun was setting and it was getting late, although you weren’t concerned. The boys knew you wouldn’t be home ‘til late due to the detention you had initially despised. Now, you and Biff were side by side, walking peacefully to his car in the school’s parking lot. For once, he was quiet, great company to have. It was something else for sure, but you enjoyed it. As you came up towards Doc’s place, you’d realized that Biff had drove you home like a gentleman, too lost in the conversation to notice earlier on.

Sheepishly, you itch the back of your neck, realizing your mistake and feeling guilty for making him walk all this way to now have to walk all the way home. “Ah- Sorry...I didn’t realize I’d dragged you all the way out here. Now you have to drive all the way back.”

“It’s no problem, really. I liked it. It’s nice to talk to someone other than the guys every now and then. And to have A female speak to me instead of screaming,” he answers, now being the one who is a bit shy.

“You do know that you bring that on yourself right?” you say teasingly, now leaning your head on your hands, propped up on the passenger side door. “Not every girl would want to kick you in the groin if you showed a little more respect, “ you finish off with a smile.

“Yeah...Yeah I know. I’ll try harder, I swear.”

“That’s all I ask,” you say with a wink, drumming your hands on the door as you take a step back, waving as you start walking down Doc’s driveway.

“Hey!” Biff calls from the car, stopping you in your tracks to turn around, facing him with a smile. “Uhm- Well- The Enchantment Under the Sea Dance is coming up next week...Would you mind being my date?” he asks, stuttering as he feels his cheeks heat up, nervous as hell.

“I’d love to!” you answer, turning back around to walk into the house. Biff does a little fist bump as he puts the car back in gear, excited for what is to come.

///

Marty was a little less than amused with this newfound knowledge once entering the door and going over the events of the day. It was only when Doc had suggested that the date with Biff would keep him away from Lorraine, giving George the freeway to attract her long enough for their True Love’s Kiss. Then, and only then, did Marty give the okay, shaking his head, but liking the fact that it’ll give George some time, being the nerd that you know and love.

///Enchantment Under the Sea Dance///

Checking yourself over in the mirror for the final time, you let out a nervous yet satisfied sigh, feeling like an absolute princess. You never minded dresses too much, although you couldn’t deny the fact that normal pair of shorts, jeans, or even leggings were your first choice. All that mattered was that you liked the dress you were wearing, it fit you; it was your favorite color, length, and strap(less) type to hold everything in.

Walking out, you grab the pair of heels to match, knowing that you couldn’t get away with sneakers in this generation, painfully grimacing at the reminder. Finally standing, you recount when you had gotten the dress just a few days ago, having gone with Lorraine and the her two friends, Babs and Betty. They were very endearing and supportive the whole time, you not having to worry about being “to picky” as they were just the same. You ended up loving the dress given that you’d taken the time without pressure.

As you walked into the main room of the garage, you heard a low whistle of Marty, Doc slapping him on the back of the head for it. Giggling, you curtsy and spin in the dress. Doc, the gentleman he always was, compliments you, “You look amazing, my dear. Let’s hope this boy deserves it, hmm?”

As an answer, you hug him tightly, knowing that, by the end of the night, he will be nothing but a dead man at home, in a lonely, dark parking lot. Your eyes tear up just at the mere thought of it, clutching him tighter. Marty seems to be on the same wavelength, going to interrupt the moment with great urgency, trying to pass him a piece of paper.

“Marty, if this has anything that involves my future, do not. And I repeat, DO NOT try to hand it to me. Whatever happens, happens young man. That’s how the world works,” he says in a warning tone. You wanted to disagree, but you knew the truth that was laced beneath it, as if it was a punishment. You whimper instead, pulling him in tighter; Marty looking down in defeat, soon switching to anger. In the midst of it, he storms out of the garage, getting in the car to go pick up who you’d hope was Lorraine for the dance.

“Just let him go...” you start, sadness evident, “He’s just not very happy with the outcome of what the future has in store for you. Quite frankly, neither am I.”

“I’m sure whatever the outcome is, that I wanted to go with it, dear. I assure you, I’m fine,” Doc answers in a consoling tone, wiping the tears that had slipped from your eyes. You knew it was just a mask, no one wants death, but you knew he needed to go no matter how much you hated it. So you nod, not having to say much more as a honk sounds from outside.

“That’s Biff...”

“Have a great time! Make sure the McFlys kiss!” Doc screams, following out of the garage, scolding Biff from behind you.

“Yes sir!” you scream back, saluting him as you take a seat in the passenger.

///

“You look beautiful Y/N,” Biff says after a while, finally working up the courage to speak.

“Thank you Biff. And you look handsome yourself,” you giggle, the car pulling into the lot.

He shuts the engine, grabbing his keys from the ignition and closing the door, making his way around to you as you let yourself out to straighten yourself out. He takes your hand as he leads you to the entrance of the dance, you sighing in relief as you catch a glimpse of Marty pulling up in a car with Lorraine. Finally, you relax, grasping on Biff a little lighter and with more meaning now as you have the night to yourselves. He smiles down at you as you wrap your arm within his, something Lorraine does with you quite often.

With the party in full blast, you let loose with the music, dancing and joking around with Biff. At some point, however, he says he needs a drink and will be right back. Although, he doesn’t seem to actually come back. You’d thought you’d seen him spiking the punch just as few moments ago.

Just as you were going to in the direction of the hallways to the rest of the school, you notice Match, one of Biff’s friends, storming out of the gym through an exit. Taking your bets, you follow behind him, soon being greeted by a huge commotion of screams, all of them from familiar people. Biff was in a car with Lorraine, her dress pulled and taken off in parts. He was no doubt about to do something stupid, the fact pissing you off, saddening you in some ways as well.

The others that were screaming were also George and Marty, the pair trying to get Biff to stop before he regrets it. He doesn’t listen, unfortunately, until your voice booms over the rest, “Biff!”

His head snaps instantly in your direction, the situation dawning on him the instant he looks at your face. You hadn’t meant to portray your emotions so clearly, but your face had shown such distraught and hurt. He lied. He had gotten over Lorraine, yet the moment she was alone, he runs right back to her.

With his momentary change of focus, George finally steps in, “You get your filthy hands off of her!” finishing with a blow to the jaw that knocks Biff off balance.

Marty looks to you sadly, but tries to smile in cheers as George and Lorraine leave together, motioning that he was going to follow them just in case. You nod, looking down now as your play with your fingers. You didn’t know what to do now as the only reason you were really here was for Biff. You weren’t needed for Lorraine and George, you knew Marty had it.

You decide to make your way home then, as there was nothing else you could do. Dances were just drags anyway, nothing worth while. “Your just going to leave? Just like that?” asks a deep voice, his body having gotten back off the pavement and stood by the car he was pinned against.

Without turning, you answer his question with another, “Why not? There’s nothing left here for me is there?”

“And why wouldn’t there be?” Biff asks once more, no doubt ticking you off at his usual teasing tone.

“Well, let’s see. You. You asked me to the dance as your plus one. I came here as your date. We have a good time, we dance, we talk, and then you come up with an ‘Oh I need a drink’ charade, not returning. Then, I come to find my date in the parking lot, about to get his licks in on a woman he was apparently over with! So tell me, what is left here for men here, Biff?” you finish, tears pooling your eyes over the time, although you don’t let the fall, keeping them there.

He looks guilty, you can see it, but you don’t care. Your not in the wrong this time. But, as your blood starts to cool down, you do notice the look in his eyes, the change in his demeanor, and the utter remorse that has overcome him. He has his head down, fists clenched at his sides, body stock still. He doesn’t know what to do, all he knows is that he’d fucked up.

“Or was this your fabulous way of telling me that you love me?” you finally ask, eyes moving to look up at him in a teasing manner.

He hadn’t expected you to speak, head snapping up to meet your gaze in confusion. Being as you’d looked at him with a glint in your eyes, he finally lets everything click together; you’d forgiven him. His face heats up in bashfulness however, as your words resonated within him as well, hand going to itch the back of his neck again.

You giggle, walking up to him now, hands going to his collar. Pulling him down, he gazes at you in amazement, his own hands falling to rest on your waist. Then, you crash your lips to his, pulling him ever closer. It takes him a moment to get the hang of it, soon pulling you closer to himself as well. Lifting you slightly, he sets you on the hood of his car, the height difference a definite stretch for him. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, you were perfect. Just the same as he was perfect for you.

#biff tannen x reader #bttf #back to the future #biff tannen imagine #bttf imagine #back to the future imagine #thomas f. wilson #crispin glover #george mcfly #christopher lloyd #dr. emmett brown #doc brown #doc #michael j. fox #marty mcfly #lea thompson #lorraine baines

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ateezthings · 4 years

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ATEEZ Reaction: S/O flinching during an argument

Anon said: “Hi um could I please request for an ateez reaction to their s/o flinching in an argument? Thank you so much if you do this!! Much love ❤️❤️”

Triggerwarning: This scenario could be triggering for some people as it deals with past (physical) abuse, no abuse will happen though. Take care of yourself and please seek help if you need it.

Genderneutral

Heavy angst (Writing angst is always emotionally draining but I love it so much, it means a lot more to me)

Jongho

You knew Jongho was strong. This didn’t help when he raised his right hand during the argument. You instinctively crouched down and covered your face with your arms. When you couldn’t feel any sort of punch, you dared to look at him again. The expression on his face scared the living hell out of you: shock, hurt, pain, disappointment.

“You thought I’d hi-hit you?”

At that point you realized you didn’t think, your body just reacted. Things, that happened in the past were screwing up your present, you had to start letting go.

“I do-don’t know, Jongho, I didn’t… I-You raised your arm and I thought-”

That’s when you broke down: knees giving out and tears starting to spill from your eyes, announcing that you were starting the self-healing process.

Sunken on to the floor, he slowly approached you, gently wrapping his arms around your body. For a while nothing could be heard except your muffled cries.

Holding you tight while you fell apart, he reassured you: “I would never lay a finger on you like that… please believe me, you are so precious”

After a moment of silence, he continued: “Do you wanna talk about what made you think that I could do that to you?”

With almost no energy left, you slowly shook your head no.

“It’s okay, I love you and I will always be here”

Wooyoung

He has a good heart. But he is also very passionate and that sometimes scares you when he is in one of his moods, rants like there’s no tommorow and he doesn’t hear you anymore. You were trying to get a word in but Wooyoung was speaking louder and louder about how it wasn’t his responsibility to get groceries after being at the studio for 13 hours a day, even though you asked him to in the morning.

He got so worked up he puffed his chest and fitfully lifted his arms. That was enough to make you flinch. It was a short action but of course Wooyoung noticed. Immediately becoming silent, it looked like someone took the life out of him.

“Did you think… I was going to…?”

Scared of your own reaction, you were paralyzed for a moment. Wooyoung rushed to take you into his arms, his comforting arms.

“I’m sorry Woo”, your voice sounded exhausted, like you’ve never been before.

“You don’t have to apologize for it… I’m sorry for getting so worked up, I never meant to scare you… you know I will always protect you.”

Mingi

You didn’t even remember what the argument was about. Mingi came home a little aggravated and you were tired from work so that’s when things went south.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I have the most important performance of my career that day, I can’t come visit your parents!”

“Mingi you never make time for me! It’s like your job is more important to you than me!”

Visibly frustrated, he quickly lifted up his arms in defeat. That’s when the flashbacks started in your head and you retracted back into your shell, shoulders and arms raised to protect your head.

“Y/N… I… Did you really think…” He didn’t need to finish.

The look on his face showed emotions that were beyond hurt, pain and disappointment.

You struggled to keep your composure: “I’m sorry Mingi, I don’t-”

He hurried over to you to take you into his arms.

“It’s okay… I could never do something like that to you.”

San

He forgot your anniversary. That was it. You knew that it wasn’t that big of a deal, but little things like that were important to you. They mattered more than any big gesture or present.

You simply expected him to write you a sweet message during the day or something like that. But he forgot. Even when you went to see him in the evening he didn’t seem to remember. So, you wanted to confront him about how much that hurt you.

You didn’t expect it to develop into a huge argument though.

“San, what I expected was just a little reminder that our relationship is as important to you as it is to me, I just wanted my boyfriend to send me a text… but you couldn’t even do that!”

That was it for him. You doubted his ability to show love?

He took a step closer to you but after seeing the rage in his eyes that was enough for you to step back in fear.

That broke him. And you could see that.

“No no no, that’s not- you’re not scared of me, right Y/N?”

It all happened so fast you couldn’t think straight. When you didn’t respond he broke down in tears.

So it was you, who took him into your arms, even though you doubted his good nature for a split second.

You tried to keep him together with your hug while struggling yourself.

San would never ever hurt you. His reaction was enough to make it clear to you how much the thought of you being scared of him hurt him.

Holding each other close you both let out cleansing tears and haunting memories that used to be tucked away in a back drawer of your mind, ready to be dealt with now.

Yeosang

He’s not the person to get angry audibly. Like twice a year you guys a conflict but it was never loud.

But this one was different; it was a much deeper conflict of values. He prioritized work. You knew he loved his work but did he have to ignore your needs while doing what he loved? You believed he could also pay a little attention to you, that’s what being in a relationship meant, right?

It was scary when he started to raise his voice but it was even more terrifying when he started to gesture wildly, trying to explain why you were wrong.

Naturally, you went into protection mode.

He stopped right in his tracks when he saw the terrified expression on your face.

“Y/N.. I wasn’t going to… I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just…”

You didn’t know how to explain yourself either. But you didn’t need to, Yeosang understood what was going on.

He carefully approached you and offered you a big hug. You let yourself collapse into him and allowed the tears to spill from your eyes, letting out all the pent-up stress and fear.

“I’m sorry my love. I will never forgive myself for scaring you…”

Yunho

You were on edge the whole day, anxiety acting up again. Sometimes you could deal with it, but not today.

In the evening it got even worse when Yunho didn’t seem to notice you were more nervous and jittery than usual. He’s had a hard day too.

So, you decided to put aside your own troubles to ask him how his day went.

His eyebrows furrowed: “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I just wanted to ask you how your day went, Yunho, and why you’re so pissed, I’m sorry”

He groaned out of frustration and turned his body away from you - a little too fast. That’s when something snapped in you and you got flooded with horrible memories of past situations that scarred you physically but more importantly mentally: You couldn’t help but protect your head from punches that might land on it.

“No, baby, don’t… I.. I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t going to…”

The look in his eyes was pure defeat.

“I’m so sorry” his voice was merely a whisper.

You were shocked when you realized you had thought he could harm you physically. He was your safe place.

So you let yourself fall into his arms, hoping you could comfort him as much as he comforted you.

Hongjoong

In an argument Hongjoong could raise his voice, you knew that. What you didn’t know was that even small rapid movements of his could trigger a memory in your mind that you hoped to suppress forever.

He only ran his hand through his hair but your reflex was to immediately cover your face.

“What was that?... Are y-you scared of me…?”

Tears started to spill from your eyes as you realized that you had hurt him: ”I’m sorry Hongjoong, I don’t know what’s happening”

Taking you into his arms, he tried to calm you down with his touch: ”Shh, it’s okay, I’m here, Y/N”

After your tears dried up a little, you moved to cuddle on the couch.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

It was painful but you decided to tell him everything you could remember.

He was sure to hold you especially tight during the parts where you didn’t think you could keep on talking.

Seonghwa

You guys fought about his job and how he was never home. He reasoned he loved what he did and that was supposed to make it okay. It didn’t. So, your dispute was going nowhere.

Out of frustration he turned away from you.

The action was so quick, but it scared a part of you, that you didn’t know existed: the part that was abused.

You couldn’t help but flinch. Of course, Seonghwa noticed.

“Why’d you…? Y/N are you sc-scared of me?” His eyes wide open, the corners of his mouth visibly drooping.

You sank down onto the floor, unable to hold it in any longer. It was useless to cover your eyes, tears already spilling like a waterfall.

Seonghwa was quick to hug you.

You were falling apart in his arms, but it felt good to let it all out. Neither you nor Seonghwa needed to speak.

Let me know what you think in the comments.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

I’m not sure if you have something planned for this already but wouldn’t it be the height of irony if Tooley got monched on by a starved Chris when he forgot to drug him? Just opens the door and whoops! He eaten!

CW: Whumper death, drunkenness, some dehumanization, blood drinking, bit of gore, vampirism, some very light catholicism

New York City, 1936

KING EDWARD VIII ABDICATES THRONE British Monarch to Wed American Socialite Wallis Simpson

Tooley kicks at the sodden, half-frozen newspaper stuck to his shoe, grunting with the effort it takes to dislodge it. His hands are buried deep in the pockets of his thick woolen coat, and he ignores the envious stares of others whose threadbare outfits are patched, whose gloves are little more than rags wrapped around their not-quite-frostbitten fingers.

Instead, he pulls his scarf up higher, tucks his chin beneath its knitted warmth, and finally manages to send the scrap of paper with its water-stained black-and-white image of a stern-faced soon-to-be ex-king and his Baltimore lover into the street, where it sticks in a puddle and soaks clean through.

The old-timers say a heavy rain is coming, citing their aching joints and bones. It's been a wet winter already, and the absolute last thing New York needs is more rain.

Tooley plans to be holed up in his nice warm little house for the whole of it. He's sold three paintings in a month, and he can spend the next few weeks on the next one until his hands want to drop right off his wrists without having to distract himself with petty concerns like money.

The liquor bubbles warm inside him, and even with the frigid air he's broken a sweat along his back, trickling to his waistband, almost a tickle. He stumbles a little, catches himself, coughs out a laugh as the cold air burns deep into his lungs. It can't penetrate the hazy heat of the drink, though.

Mel's always has the best whiskey, and Tooley has the green these days to pay for the very best indeed. He's spent what might be a whole month's pay - if he weren't the luckiest artist in New York - in a single night.

You might say he's made a deal with the devil.

He pulls the brim of his fedora down, shielding his brow from the bit of freezing moisture speckling his cheeks. He struggles not to giggle like a child.

"Got a bit to spare for a hungry man?" A rasping voice calls out from an alley as he passes. "Help me feed my family, sir? I'm out of work, sir! Got three little ones with hungry bellies!"

Tooley ignores him.

There are crowds like that everywhere these days, always pressing for help, for a little something more and more and more. Men out of work, men in bread lines, women with tired faces and sad children. He's had just about enough of it.

They're calling it a depression, and he finds the term apt enough, considering it seems the whole country's been tumbled into a hole and can't find its way out.

He'd take his muse to Europe and paint there if it weren't for the echoing tension that bleeds over across the sea. Every nation he's idolized for their arts is trying to posture at each other. Rattling sabers while the people sigh heavily and keep washing their laundry, like always.

Tooley was a child when the Great War tore his own family apart - losing an older half-brother to the pointless trenches, a father to the mustard gas that ate his lungs to pieces, a mother to her desperate, sharp grief at her husband and stepson's loss.

The War had rendered him alone in the world before he was even twenty, though he'd been too young to hardly understand it and it had had nothing to do with him.

Wars were for rich men to send poor men to fight in, and Tooley is hoping to have enough wealth to maybe just float right past a new one, if the rumors beginning to swirl came true and Europe is going to erupt. Surely, though, no one would let a second war as horrible as the last happen.

Surely not.

Still, even so, he can simply disappear if they try to call him up to fight. He has no one left to lose, after all. No one to fight for, no one to care for. No one but his pretty little model, all locked away, his to keep.

Tooley takes a sharp left and the streets begin to change from the harsher gray of the city proper into neighborhoods, houses crammed tightly together. It's not the best part of town - Tooley's parents weren't the wealthiest, and he doesn't live like a gentleman, he's got no need to, it's not how he thinks a proper artist should live anyway. Have to keep up the image of the nearly-starving creative genius, after all.

There are still lights in some windows, despite the late hour. Tooley isn't the only one drunk at midnight and still moving.

It's a mile or so from the start of his street to where his house is nestled between two others, close enough he could reach out his kitchen window and touch the brick of the home next door. He smiles a little. His nose aches with the cold at the tip of it, but that's nothing to worry himself over.

He's home.

It takes him four tries to unlock his front door, the key jabbing into wood and brass too far to one side or the other. He laughs, breath puffing white clouds into the air, his ears burning with the cold where his hat doesn't quite cover them.

Good thing he's not with a woman, tonight, if his aim's so bad with just his hands.

The thought makes him laugh harder, nearly a guffaw, loud enough that he's sure he's woken a neighbor or two. It's not the first time.

Finally, the key slides home and the lock clicks and Tooley moves inside. The house is chilled in the entryroom, but as he slides his coat and fedora off to leave them on the coat rack and moves into the kitchen, towards the back, he can feel the warmth slowly trickling from the ticking radiators along the walls.

He's due for a coal delivery in the next couple of days, and boy, he's going to need it with the weather the way it's been.

Tooley heads for his perfect little secret, the vampire held in the backroom, once a sort of servant's bedroom for some family that had owned the home even before his own parents did. It's his studio, now, and the place where the little vampire boy is kept.

He unlocks that door, too. A key, a deadbolt, a little sliding lock at the top for added safety.

"Here, kitty kitty kitty," He slurs, and laughs again, delighted at his own little joke.

There's a scrape and a rustle, and Tooley steps back to let the vampire boy move forward, out of the freezing unheated room - Tooley only turns the radiator on in there when he himself is working, it's not like dead things care about being warm after all - and into the kitchen proper, with its little two-person table.

The boy is looking dirty - he's due for a bath, long overdue honestly. Good things he doesn't sweat enough to stink.

His hair hangs lank in his eyes, closer to dark copper than the new-penny shine Tooley prefers. There are smudges along his cheeks, marring his perfect freckles. He's draped in a sweater patched badly where his elbows have worn holes right through, pants that are tied with a rope since Tooley sure isn't going to waste money on a belt for a corpse.

"Is, did, did you, um, did you bring me food?" The vampire boy looks up at him, eyes glinting a little in the dimness, that unsettling cat-like glow-in-the-dark effect. His little fangs flash, too. "I'm... I'm, I'm hungry, Tooley."

"I know you are, bloodsucker."

"It's, it's been, um, it's been weeks, Tooley-"

"I know, I know. Shut your trap." Tooley ruffles his hair, then pulls his hand back with a grimace as he remembers how dirty and greasy it's gotten, walking away to go to the sink and wash his hands. "We'll get t'that. I met with someone very important at th' bar tonight, and first things first, you and I are going to celebrate."

The boy moves slowly, staying half-crouched - he's been hit before, when Tooley didn't want him to stand all the way up. He settles himself against the wall, head tilted to the side. His cheekbones cut sharp angles in his face, edging down to his narrow chin.

Those big green eyes follow Tooley everywhere he goes.

"Celebrate what?" He asks, and Tooley wonders just how old the ridiculous little thing is. He'd said early aughts, hadn't he, on when he was turned? So he'd be, what, in his forties really?

Funny.

Was he locked up during the Great War?

He's still a pretty teenager, but he's probably closing in on fifty. Tooley's twenty-some years younger and looks infinitely older, in his own estimation.

Tooley should look into vampirism, seems an excellent way to hold onto your looks, doesn't it? He wonders if the boy knows how to turn him. They could make beautiful work forever...

Hm.

Something to ruminate over when he's hungover in the morning.

"New commission. I'm taking a few weeks off, give us both a break, but I've got the basic details. I'll pick up a broad, get her all set up for modeling, we'll make us a mint, sweetheart." He moves to the counter, picking up the half-full bottle of gin he keeps there, taking a swig and grimacing, coughing. There's a rattle in his lungs these days he doesn't like much.

"You'll, you'll kill her?" The vampire watches him. He looks hungry, with all those sharp lines emphasized, as though he were a painting himself still in progress, with the outline still written in graphite showing through the colors. He's pale, painted in wash, not yet turned to vivid velvet intensity with oils.

"'Course. You think any of my models would stay alive anywhere near you?" He laughs at the very idea, missing the vampire's little flinch as he turns away. He pulls a loaf of bread from the breadbox, already starting to stale but that's all right, he's going to toast it over the stove anyway. The world swims around him from the liquor, and he catches the counter with one hand to keep himself upright.

The feeling brings another laugh out of him.

The little vampire smiles faintly in echo of it. He has to work to get the stove to gas, narrowing his eyes as it struggles, sputters, before finally a little flame flares up. Just enough to give off a little heat for the toast.

"Fuck. Drank too much. Or not enough." He laughs again, and pulls a knife from the knifeblock, the sharp serrated thin blade best for slicing through the heavy sourdough he buys from a woman down the block. Bit of toast, pat of salted butter, that'll get him through to morning when he can head down for eggs and bacon at Paulie's diner.

Maybe he'll even buy some extra for the hungry men who hound around the doors. He can be a philanthropist.

As he slices, the knife slips off the stale, hard crust and cuts right through the back of his hand, a long line immediately welling with bright red blood. He groans, irritated, and sets the knife down, turning to run cold water over it as the pain flares bright, but slightly muted from his drunkenness.

There's a rustle behind him, and Tooley's mind only belatedly begins to allow alarm to trickle through the warm fuzz of the gin and whiskey. He slowly turns around.

Where the vampire boy had been curled against the wall, a bundle of skinny bones and too-big clothes, there's... nothing.

Tooley glances to one side and sees the boy crouched on the floor by the edge of the lower cabinets, his hands pressed into the ground. He moved five feet in less than a second.

His eyes are flared, wide and with pupils burying the iris in black. He clicks, softly, tongue against teeth in an inhuman way.

Click-click-click-click.

click-click-click.

How'd he move so fast?

"Shit," Tooley whispers. "When's the last time I fed you?"

The vampire doesn't answer, only stares, unblinking, muscles tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing. He clicks again.

His lips pull back from his teeth and those fangs that seem so cute and little on every other day suddenly look long, like daggers, dripping a shimmering venom to the ground.

Tooley tries not to blink, too, but his eyes dry and dry and dry and eventually he can't help it. His eyes close, a fraction of a second, and flare open right away.

Not fast enough.

The vampire leaps and Tooley grunts at the impact of the small bony body against his own, his lower back smacking into the line of the counter with a flash of pain. The bread and knife both clatter to the ground.

Panic comes, but it doesn't help. He's still groping to get at another knife when the vampire's fingernails dig into his scalp, grip into his hair and jerk his head to the side to bare his throat.

"Hungry," The vampire boy hisses. "Hungry, Tooley. Hungry."

"I-I know, just, just don't blow your wig, gimmee a minute, I can get you something, just hold on-" Tooley's voice is thin from the harsh angle his neck is being held at, and he swallows, seeing in a bleary haze the way the vampire's huge eyes are focused on the movement of his adam's apple, the bob of his throat.

Can he see the blood pulsing there?

He puts his hands up against the vampire's chest to try and push him off, but it's like pushing against rock. He thinks about painting the vampire as a kind of young Prometheus for a dandy from Boston, tied naked to a rock to be pecked at by eagles, and wonders if the mythological man ever tried to push the rock itself, and if it failed as miserably for him as it does for Tooley now.

"There's blood in the shed out back, just let me go and I'll grab it for you." He pitches his voice soothing and slightly patronizing, like speaking to a whining dog. "Okay, kitten? Just two minutes and you'll be fed, right as rain."

The vampire pauses, hesitates, and Tooley feels his hands working at Tooley's hair and one shoulder, like a cat kneading into your lap before they settle. His little stray. His breathing starts to ease, his heart to slow down, the first rush of panic subsiding.

The world still spins a little, but the rush of adrenaline is settling things into something more solid, wiping away the liquor.

"I'll put you back in your room and go get it for you, it's right outside, good and cold," Tooley coos, and realizes too late it isn't what he should have said.

"There's blood right here, and and and, and, and it's living," The vampire boy says, eyes wide and inhuman, and he's absolutely gorgeous. "Your, your, yours is hot."

Tooley would paint him like this, all feral instinct overwriting the living corpse of an anonymous Irish immigrant who died dozens of years ago. A metaphor, maybe, for the way some of the children who come here lose all their European culture and get boorishly American, and-

The vampire bites down, and all thoughts of art and culture flee from Tooley's mind.

The liquor holds off the pain so long the venom hits before he even feels the way those sharp teeth have breached his skin. He goes limp, dropping in a heap to the floor. He thinks he hits his head on the loaf of bread before it knocks into the floor.

They feel about the same level of hardness.

The knife is right next to his head, lying there, shining in the yellowed lamplight, with its carved wooden handle.

All he has to do is move his hand a few inches to reach it.

Just a few inches.

He tries, desperately, to tell his fingers where to go.

The vampire sucks hard at the wound in his neck, pulling blood from his veins like a man drinking an egg cream after a long hot day's work, and Tooley groans. He can feel the press and pull without the pain, and it's the strangest thing he's ever felt. Stranger than those he's gone to bed with.

The venom makes his limbs feel like stones, weighed down to motionless. He struggles even to swallow saliva, to take a deep breath. His heart never races again with panic. He isn't able to feel it any longer.

Those sharp little fingernails dig hard into his shoulders, the weight of the vampire settled on him, straddling him. A little flirty thought - at least buy me dinner first - makes its way across his mind, barely coherent, slow as molasses.

The vampire starts up his soft rumble, the vibration filtering in through into Tooley's body. It seems like it makes him feel even more frozen, heavy as the ocean and weightless at once.

His eyes are on the ceiling, and he realizes how long it's been since anyone cleaned the corners where cobwebs have grown and grown. They need swept away.

Funny how he never noticed before. Too busy with his art.

There's a moment where Tooley is surprised to look down at himself, as if he's floating somewhere near the ceiling staring down at his own open eyes. When he needed not to blink, he couldn't stop himself, but now the body he is looking at just stares and stares and stares, unseeing, unblinking, unbreathing-

Oh.

As soon as the realization hits, Tooley's awareness of himself as a body he can observe is gone.

There is darkness, and then a point of terrible final light. He feels the grasping of bloodied hands.

And he's gone.

The vampire drinks until the blood stops pumping, until the heart beneath his kneading hand is still. Then a rough tongue laps at the wounds, finding the last few droplets there that still sing with life.

The vampire pulls back, skin flush with life, no longer white as snow. His freckles stand out, scattered like constellations of stars over his skin. The dead man beneath him has all the paleness he had before, they are switched, swapped death for life.

He wipes the blood from around his mouth and looks slowly upwards, breathing in deep gulps he doesn't need but which feel so, so good.

He moves to the stove, to turn it off, but he doesn't quite turn it off all the way. An odd smell fills his nose and the vampire's nostrils wrinkle, but he doesn't know what the scent is, and he simply pulls Tooley's coat on before he leaves, door unlocked.

A few minutes later, a man with his hands over a barrel fire looks up to see a redheaded teenager in a woolen coat far too large for him move under a streetlamp, pausing to look up at it as if surprised by how bright its light is.

He blinks, and the man squints.

The young man's mouth is open, as if scenting the air by letting it roll over his tongue. Before the man can quite understand what he is looking at, the boy's mouth closes and he turns to look at the man. As his eyes shift from being lit by the lamp to draped in shadow, though...

They glow.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," The man whispers, crossing himself hurriedly. "Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, b-be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil-"

The boy looks right at him, head tilted. The flames of the barrel flicker, hissing a little when raindrops start to fall. His lips pull back from his teeth and there are an animal's fangs there, plain as day.

The man feels pure horror at the sight of a demon walking free and unfettered in New York City. He grabs at the cross he wears around his neck and holds it out, his voice trembling. "May G-God... rebuke him, we humbly pray-"

"I, I, I hope that works for you," The boy says, and his voice is soft, and there's almost a lilt of the old country there that the man recognizes, not quite his own but not far off. "It never d-did for, um, for me. Don't worry. I'm... I'm full. You're, you're, you're in no danger from me. When, when, when, when... when did you come here? To this place?"

The man swallows around a lump in his throat, and yet he finds himself compelled to answer honestly. "Two years past, give or take. Came with m'wife and baby girl."

"From where?"

"... Kerry," He says, against his will. He can't seem to hold back the words. "And my wife grew up in County Cork."

The boy smiles, and his horrid teeth disappear when his lips press together. He looks for all the world like any other young man, a bit skinny perhaps and in need of a good meal or three, but no danger to anyone.

But the man has seen the demon that he is, and he finds himself grateful for the fire between them and the cross still in his hand, the shield of St. Michael and the cloak of Christ Himself.

"My, my, my, my parents were from County Cork," The demon boy says, lightly. His lilt is slightly stronger. "Wonder if we're cousins, your your wife and I. Maybe so. Stay home, um, after dark. Don't, don't, don't work when the sun is, um, is down."

The boy turns and walks away.

The man realizes with a start that in the midst of a chilly December night, the boy's feet are utterly bare. He steps over ice like he could walk on water.

There was blood smeared on the back of his coat.

The man flinches as he hears a sudden boom, close enough that he feels it in his chest as well as hearing the sound. A moment later a woman runs by shouting that a house has caught flame, to call for help.

The man looks back at the way the boy went.

He's gone.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

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quicksilverownsmysoul · 3 years

Text

Peter comforting upset reader

Summary: reader is upset that they weren’t able to register for the fall classes they wanted and Peter helps them feel better. This is based off what happened to me today. I wasn’t able to register for any of the fall classes I needed because my school never said when registration opened. So now I have horrible class times to where I have to stay there from 9am to 5:45 pm and I can’t leave cause I’m a commuter student. I’m ready upset but writing this is helping me get through it. Since Peter can’t really hold me in his arms and tell me it was going to get better I wrote it!

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word count: 1876

You were sitting at the dining room table with your head in your hands. You looked up at the glaring white screen showing your registered classes for the fall semester of college. Your university had failed to tell you when registration was, you only found out because you received an email saying that you haven't registered yet. In a panic you had quickly logged on and tried your best to get the classes you needed. Only to find them full or restricted for some unnamed reasons. If only that stupid advisor had told you when registration was. For God’s sake you had a meeting with him last week! He could have told you but he didn't and now your classes were all a mess.

You let your head fall back into your hands. All your classes were at weird times and none of them worked with one another. Everyday of the week you had a class at 9 and then one at 3 that didn't end until 5:45. That wouldn't be a problem if you lived on campus. You could just go to the classes then head back to your dorm and chill in between them. But you were a commuter. You lived almost an hour away from campus, driving there and back twice a day four times a week was not feasible. It was going to take way too much gas, and since you had to stay at the school all day it meant you wouldn't have any time for yourself for the entirety of the fall semester.

You had called the school begging them to help you but they said it was your own fault for missing the registration day. You tried your best to explain that you never got any emails about registration and they just said that they sent them. You must have not checked your email. You hung up and went to your parents hoping that maybe they could talk to the school, But all they did was dismiss you and ask why you missed registration, they were blaming you. They also said that maybe those classes wouldn't be that bad and to just take the four classes you were able to secure. You explained to them that in only taking four classes you would mess up your graduation plan but they just said you would take summer courses or something. They didn't get it, you were there on a scholarship if you took a summer course you were going to have to pay out of pocket, something you couldn't afford at the moment.

You were so mad you wanted to scream, but at the same time you just wanted to break down and cry. You slammed your laptop shut and made your way out of the house grabbing the keys off the hook, telling your parents you were going for a drive to cool down. You pulled out of the driveway and made your way to the one person you knew could make you feel better. But as soon as you pulled up to Peter’s house you regretted coming. You didn't want to bother him with something as stupid as being upset over your class registration. So you sat in your parked car by the curb in front of his house and just laid your head down on the steering wheel.

Peter had seen you pull up and a smile made his way to his face. He loved when you came to see him, he looked out the window waiting for you to come out of your car and make your way to the door. After a couple minutes you were still sitting in your car huddled over the wheel, Peter exited his house and made his way over to your truck. He tapped lightly on the driver's window making you jump. You lifted your head and rolled the window down, putting on your best fake smile. Peter looked at your concern in his eyes. “(y/n) what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” You said in an obviously fake cheery voice. He watched you struggle to maintain your smile, it shaking and the corners dipping every few seconds. Peter reached through the window, wiping away the tears you didn't even know were falling. That soft gesture broke you. You leaned into his hand and broke down crying.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Peter said softly opening the door to your truck, the minute he fully opened it your collapsed into his arms. Holding onto his shirt and wailing into it. He gently picked you up and you clinged on even tighter to him. He took his time walking you into his house and down the stairs into the basement. He set you down on his bed and kneeled down in front of you. “(y/n) what’s wrong.”

You kept crying, mumbling through your tears. “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” You were so ashamed to be crying in front of him you kept your eyes shut.

Peter lifted your head by your chin. “(y/n) look at me.” You reluncalty opened your eyes to meet his own. “If it’s making you this upset it can’t be nothing.” His soft brown eyes watched yours, patiently waiting for you to tell him. You calmed yourself down the best you could and told him what had happened. All about missing the registration day, not getting any of the classes you really needed to how your parents didn't even seem to care. He didn't interrupt you, just listened to you, giving your thigh a soft comforting squeeze every now and then. When you finished he finally spoke.

“That’s awful, I'm so sorry.”

“It’s all my fault.” You hiccupped out.

“No it’s not.” He said firmly. “They should have told you when registration was. They should be worrying about fixing this, not you.” He took your hand in his own. “On Monday I’m going to go to your school and straighten this all out. You know how persuasive I can be.” He joked, you let out a light laugh.

You wiped away your tears with the back of your hand trying to get up to leave. “It’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal. I shouldn't even be this upset about it.” You said attempting to joke, he just frowned at you. He lightly pulled you back down to sit on the bed.

“No it's not.” He said firmly. “They messed up, this is their fault not yours. You have a right to be upset.” You started to cry again at the fact that he ackowdlged that your feelings were relevant. He didn't try to dismiss them. “If we can get them to change that will be amazing, and if we can't that’s okay.” You opened your mouth to protest but Peter continued on. “Sometimes things happen that we can’t control like this. That doesn't mean the world is going to end. You have a lot of credits, only taking four this semester isn't the worst thing that could happen.” He got up off the floor and sat down on the bed next to you, You felt it dip under his added weight.

“But if I don’t get the six classes this semester I’m going to graduate a semester late.” You looked up at time, tears in your eyes. “I was going to graduate early, in three years instead of four and now I’m going to mess it all up.

Peter turned his body to face yours, and he made you do the same. “(y/n) It’s going to be okay, you could use this break. You’ve been so tired lately taking all those extra classes a semester. You are burning yourself out. It’s okay to take breaks every now and then. Maybe this is going to be a good thing, You’ll be under less stress and you’ll have more time during the day to study. And you didn't think I wasn’t going to visit you did ya.” You looked back up at him and gave him a small smile. “That’s right I’ll come and see you in between classes, and if you want I can take you home too. That way you don’t have to spend all day there. And when it comes to graduating early, baby you still are! Graduating a semester earlier is still super impressive. You’re too hard on yourself.”

You surpsied him by pulling him into a tight huf. “Thank you Peter.” Your vocie was muffled by the close proximety. You pulled away after a while. “

“Do you wanna get some food or something?” He asked.

You gave him a a weak smile. “Is it okay if we just lay here for a while? I’m still a little uspet.”

“Of course. And you have a right to be.” He said, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Don’t let anyone ever make you think your feelings aren’t valid.” You pushed down the new wave of tears as you laid down beside Peter. You laid with your back to his chest. He scooted himself closed, wrapping his arms around your figure. You tucked your hands into yourself and let yourself cry, to feel all the things you’d been holding in. He gently ran his hand along your arm in a soothing, repetitive motion. Pressing soft kisses on the back of your neck. His touch making all your problems disappear.

#peter maximoff #quicksilver #personal story #evan peters #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff headcanon #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff fanfiction #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #quicksilver xmen x reader #xmen fanfiction #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters x reader #quicksilver xmen #marvel fanfiction

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axwalker · 3 years

Text

CREEP 3: You're just like an angel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection.

MASTERLIST HERE

In this chapter: Lexie gets to know more about the boy hiding behind the monster.

A/N: This is Lexie’s POV. We’ll be in Drake’s head in the following chapter.

A/N 2: Thank you to my beautiful prereader @burnsoslow

Your suggestions made all the difference! LOVE YOUU ❤️

A/N 3: Thank you to @mskaneko for the edit that closes this fic. It’s gorgeous! I love youu ❤️

Words: 5,108 🙈

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love.

This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS --As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!

LEXIE

Watching Drake put my duffel bag on the back of his motorcycle, my pulse is getting out of control on my neck. This is happening. I’m leaving home. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. And Drake Walker, my tormentor, is helping me. He actually defended me. The fact that I’m being helped by the person who called me a future trophy wife this morning makes this moment even more surreal. He’s had this tormented expression on his face for the last half an hour that’s stupidly making me want to hug him or make him feel better. For what, though? I don’t know. I don’t owe him anything, and still, I have this pressing need to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him everything will be okay.

When it comes to Drake, my emotions have never been truly logical. One second I hate him, and the next, I’m whispering his name in the darkness of my room, my fingers sawing against the wet cotton of my panties. My feelings for him are incredibly confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my unstable world, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I wanted, he would “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that deep, hoarse tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my covers to an orgasm. I’m having those particularly sexual thoughts when he looks over at me, and I don’t quite manage to hide my lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he fixes on my mouth, my breasts. I’m a real hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted. It’s always there in the rise and fall of his chest, the clicking of his jaw. The tenting of his jeans. How many times have I turned in class and—avoiding his gaze—locked eyes with his jeans instead? At least that’s one thing us poor fuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck.

Well, if I thought sympathy was a strange emotion regarding this boy, jealousy is even more confusing. Why should I care that he’s been with other girls? Obviously, he must have been with hundreds of girls to get good at sex. It’s none of my business, is it? I’m almost rid of him. And I don’t want to be jealous. Still, when he holds out his hand to help me onto the bike, I ignore it with a raise of my chin and climb on myself. You’re almost rid of him, Lexie. Get a ride and say goodbye. Unfortunately, I may have been a little overenthusiastic in asking to be taken to a motel. I’ve never been to one, but I know a credit card is required—and I don’t have one of those. Nor do I have enough cash in my wallet for more than one night. I need to figure out an alternative plan fast. Still looking damned tortured, Drake places his helmet on my head and gently buckles the chinstrap. Swallowing loud enough to hear over the passing cars. Helmetless, he brings the engine to life, the vibration so exhilarating; I wrap my arms around his middle on reflex.

I can feel taking a deep breath. “Lexie…” He can’t see me, so I give in to the impulse to press my cheek to his leather jacket, absorbing the warmth and his smell, earthy and so masculine.

“Yes?” Drake clears his throat, his voice even more profound. “My dad left me a cabin a few towns over. Near Portavira lake.” He pauses. “It’s very rustic, but I’ve been fixing it, so it’s clean, and it has a bed and some supplies. I could take you there. You’d be safe.”

It’s dangerous to start accepting more favors from him, but what choice do I have? My father made sure that I’m helpless. He did it with my mother and now me. Isolated us from everyone who might be a friend. I’ll accept his offer, but only because here and now, I promise myself I’ll find a way to help myself in the future. To leave my father and his house of horrors in the past. Maybe it can’t be done entirely alone. Maybe accepting help is the only option. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting the way he treated me. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I also hate him. He’s made my life miserable for two years and I won’t let him --or myself, forget that. Maybe he’s hiding right now but I know Drake--as my father, has a monster underneath. His monster might not slap me or make me bleed but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Poisonous words can hurt as much as one well-delivered blow.

“Okay,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.” I’ll accept his help for now and leave as soon as I can.

He responds by turning on the engine of the bike again. That’s when I hear my father yelling my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back, and he’s limping, blood coming out his nose.

“Alexis Jade O’Brien! You get your ass back here right now, or you’ll never be allowed back! You’ll be dead to me!”

He has to be joking; he’s been dead to me since the first time he hit me. I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion I have. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever.

“Good girl,” Drake murmurs a second before driving away. I don’t look back a single time. We drive for half an hour. After twenty minutes on the highway, the trees grow denser and denser, the road deserted. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, which comforts me when I should be worried. Shouldn’t I? I can’t allow the last two years of em2otional battle to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Drake to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow tired against his strong back, his woody and manly scent lulling me, encouraging the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him might be easier said than done. Especially when we arrive at the cabin, and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest like I’m made of crystal, a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m breaking his heart.

“There is a shower inside,” he says quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath. “…the blood off.” The sun sets as we stand there. It’s nothing like the light of the night we kissed. This time it's brighter, more intense. It must be the higher elevation.

“You’re not hurting anywhere else?”

“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Drake?”

“What’s wrong?” He fights through a humorless laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. “Where do I start? Most urgent is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone, and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Lexie, but please don’t ask me to go.”

He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s OK to go back to his trailer. There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move will be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Drake is around, looking at me like that. “Drake…”

“It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to be cut off. Fuck, I know that. Believe me when I say I hate myself right now, but if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—”

I shake my head. Nothing can make up for the two years I spent loving him while he tortured me. There will be nothing between us.

“I understand.” His fingers rake his hair one last time. “You can go in the cabin. I’ll sleep outside; that way, I’ll be sure your—father won’t be back.”

Despite myself and my better judgment, I worry about him. “Outside? It’s cold and dark; I can go to a motel.” At least for one night, I’ll figure out what I’ll do after tomorrow.

“No way. Look, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Just go inside and try to rest; I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

Used to what? Sleeping outside? “Isn’t there a couch or something?”

He shakes his head. “The cabin was in ruins until six months ago when I started working on it. There’s only one bed, but there’s a rug next to the fireplace. Please don’t leave. I—I need to know you’re safe.”

I know Drake would never abuse me physically. I might be naïve, but I just know he would never do it. And as much as it’s difficult for me to understand why I feel safe with him here. Still, I have to be smart, my instincts tell me to trust him, but my instincts have been wrong about him before.

“Does the room lock?”

“It does with a bolt that can’t be opened from outside. But you’re safe with me, Lexie. I swear.”

It’s his miserable look that makes me decide. “Okay, if it locks, I can stay here.”

We go inside, and he leads me to his room. When my bag hits the floor next to his bed, I get even more nervous. I just left everything I know behind me and have no idea what’s coming next. School will be over in a few weeks, but I can graduate earlier, thanks to my credits. I’ll need a job, save some money, get an apartment and apply for college in Cordonia. It’s overwhelming.

I don’t want to cry in front of Drake. I don’t want to show him I feel weak, sad, and pathetic, but something inside of me suddenly breaks, and before I can’t do anything to stop it, I’m sobbing.

Drake is sitting on the bed in a second, and he’s pulling me into his lap, trying to calm me down. “Shh Lexie, it’s okay. Cry all you need to. I’m here. It’s okay,” he repeats in a litany as he rubs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, then my nose. Why do I feel so safe with him? Why, after everything he put me through, do I want to be here with him more than anywhere else?

“Let it all out, Lex. You’re so strong, baby.” He takes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to gently clean my tears. The piece of fabric seems so incongruous in his rough hands that I can’t help but smile a little.

“Is this yours?”

He shrugs. “My dad collected them. After he died, my mom gave all his stuff away. This handkerchief is the only thing I have left of him. And this cabin.”

“I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiles. “Ruin it? Impossible. If anything, now it's even more special to me.”

The softness in his eyes looks so sincere it scares the hell out of me. I can’t let myself forget who Drake really is. I stand up from his lap and put my bag on the bed.

“I’m really tired; I’d better go to bed.”

“Okay … can I just look at your wounds?” he asks as he inspects my face. “You have some nasty cuts,” he adds, his fist clenching.

When I nod, he takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. The room is as simple and modest as expected. Block walls, no tiles on the floor, no curtain on the shower, and an old toilet. A million years away from the white marble bathrooms in my house.

He follows my gaze and blushes. “I’m sorry. This is not what you’re used to. I—uhm, I’m slowly putting it together when I have time and some money. I’m good with my hands.” I look at said hands, and there’s no doubt he’s good with them. They look big and calloused. Capable and rough but so gentle with me. I want them all around my body. As if he had listened to my silent demand, he grabs me by my waist and sits me on the counter next to the sink. My legs part on instinct, and he puts himself between them. We don’t talk for two long minutes until he opens the faucet and wets a towel.

“I just got the water running this week; Come on.” Gently --almost reverently, he washes and cleans every cut, every injury. Softly he brushes his thumbs over my face. He doesn’t speak as he does, but there’s a tension between us. A raw feeling that has always been there.

“Tell me about yourself,” I blurt out, desperate to break the moment.

“There’s not much to say. Sorry, Lexie!” he exclaims when I wince. “Does this hurt?”

“A little. I. need a distraction. Why do you live alone? I know your dad is –uhm, gone, but where’s your mom?”

“Gone too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Drake.”

“Don’t be. She was a bitch. She died in a car accident two years ago. She was living in Texas back then.”

“I don’t get it. Two years ago, you were here in Cordonia.”

“Yeah, she left me after my dad died. Took my sister and left me here. Reminded her too much of my dad, she said.”

I remember Jackson Walker. Everyone in Portavira does. He was Liam’s dad's bodyguard and died protecting him. But that was five years ago. If his mom left just after his passing, that means Drake has been living by himself since he’s thirteen years old. It can’t be.

Drake turns around and opens a box in the corner of the room. When he turns back, he’s holding a Band-Aid.

“I keep these around. Construction can get nasty sometimes. Come here, Lex.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands while he cleans a cut next to my eyebrow. His touch is leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I hate to be this affected by him.

I clear my throat to avoid the embarrassment of talking in a squeaky voice. “So, who were you living with?”

“No one. My aunt got custody when my mom left, but her husband didn’t want kids. He made her choose between him or me, so I’ve been living on my own since I’m thirteen.” My heart breaks then. Not only at the fact that he had to live by himself when he was still a child, but at the way he says it. Matter-of-factly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world that his mother, his aunt, and his uncle abandoned him. As horrible as my dad is, I’ve never had to fend for myself. And my mom loved me so much. If cancer hadn’t taken her away, she’d be here fighting for me. Drake has no one. I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. “Hey! Don’t cry, Lexie,” his thumb moves from my eyebrow to my cheek as he wipes the tears off my face. ”I prefer to live by myself than go to a foster house. And Leona checks on me now and then.”

“If your mom died, where’s your sister?”

He takes a deep breath but doesn’t pronounce a single word for a few minutes. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Savvy was with my mom in the car. She died too.”

I want to say something. Anything. But I can’t. Nothing seems like enough. Sorry is such an empty word—a stupid cliché. I’m horrified at my own muteness, so I do the only thing I can think of. I hug him. At first, he just stands there, his arms hanging at his sides. But soon, I can feel him giving in, his heart beating hard against my chest. He encircles his arms around me, wrapping me in the tightest hug possible. I don’t know who’s comforting whom anymore. I only know that I love being here, and I hope it’s giving him a little solace, this hug.

It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive or even forget what he put me through, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain alone.

“I’ll be outside, Lexie,” he says when he finally lets me go. “If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me, okay?”

“Wait!’ I yell, so he turns around. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he hesitates as if he’s going to add something important. “Good night, Lexie.”

“Wait,” I feel my cheeks redden just thinking about what I’m about to propose. “You can sleep here, I-I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he says, a determined look on his face. “I would never hurt you that way, and you have no idea how much I regret how I’ve treated you in the past. But I’ll be okay sleeping outside. I know you’ll feel better sleeping here by yourself.”

I can’t deny that. I meant what I said about trusting him not to hurt me, but I can’t forget what he did either. “At least take this pillow and the blanket. I’ll manage with the pillow and the cover left.” He hesitates, so I insist. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

After taking them and giving me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the room. I lie on his bed, incapable of sleeping. The pain in his eyes when he told me about his little sister haunts me all night long.

The following day I toss around in bed, confused and angry at myself. I can’t have feelings for Drake Walker. I can’t forget the insults or the anger in his eyes, the hurt that his words caused me every -single time. I just can’t. I hate what happened to him. I genuinely do, but iI have to think about myself. Denying that I’m attracted to him would be preposterous. Our chemistry is strong and undeniable, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps I just need one night with him, so I can move on with my life. Get him out of my system.

When I finally leave the bed, I find a note under my door: Went to buy some groceries, be back soon. DW

I go to the room where I assume he’s going to build the kitchen. For now, there’s only a more-than-a-few-years-old microwave and a cooler. I open the cabinets, but there’s barely anything there.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I feel my heart slamming in my chest; if it’s my father, I have no means of defending myself. I’m about to escape through the back door when a woman’s voice starts yelling.

“Open up, Drake. I’m not in the mood today.”

I open the door because the voice sounds familiar. I recognize Leona, the principal’s assistant. And I know she’s related to Drake.

Leona arches an eyebrow when she sees me. “Ms. O’Brien, what on earth are you in my nephew’s cabin? Does your father even know where you are?”

“I’m 18. I don’t have to tell my father where I am.” I answer in a much bolder tone than I feel.

She shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Well, I brought this to my nephew. Tell him I want those signed by next week. We’re not going to lose thousands of euros because of some dumb nostalgia.”

She hands me a big manila folder, I take it, but she doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’re the one who can convince him.”

“Convince him about what?”

“His father Jackson left him this piece of land, but it isn’t worth a dime without cattle or money to invest in it. But, a couple of months ago a big company approached us, they wanted to build a landfill here. Drake refuses to sell. He thinks he’s going to honor his dead father by rebuilding this old piece of crap, but he will never have the money to do it.”

“Never.” The deep voice that comes from the entrance startles us both. “This was my dad’s dream. He wanted a ranch, and one day this place will be one,” Drake says, “I told you already, Leona. I won’t sell; I don’t care how much they’re offering you to convince me.”

“I’ve never denied that they’re offering me a commission for the sale, Drake. But I still think it’s the best move for you.” Leona leaves the papers on the table, turns and leaves the cabin.

“You love this land?” I’m genuinely curious.

He slowly nods. “It’s all I have left of my dad. He’s the only person that ever gave two damns about me.”

“That says more about your family than about you, Drake.”

He looks directly at me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine for a long minute. I want to get closer to him, to touch him. Not only to offer some comfort but because my body reacts to him in the wildest way. Just standing next to him in the kitchen, I feel my heart beating faster, my hands trembling harder, my sex getting wetter. The response he gets from me is maddening. And it’s making me insane. There’s no freaking way in hell; I’m going to have feelings for Drake Walker.

“I- I need to take a shower. I’ll eat later.” Without giving him any time to respond, I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I open the shower and get inside, desperate for some release, anything that’ll take my mind off him. His stupid perfect smirk and deep eyes. That voice of his, intense, soft, and deep at the same time. Those big hands, calloused and capable. Hands that I just know would know precisely how to touch me. Before I realize it, I’m coming as quietly as I can. Sadly, my relief only lasts a few minutes, my body needs him --Drake Walker, and no substitute would do.

When I come out, he’s waiting for me with a hot cup of coffee and a couple of white chocolate-strawberry muffins---my favorite kind.

We eat in silence, but I don’t feel the weight of it as I usually do. Ours is a companionable silence.

After breakfast, we decide to take a hike next to the lake. A bit of exercise and the lake’s breathtaking landscape might be exactly what I need to stop thinking about my father and the confusing feelings I have for Drake.

“I think I need a job. Do you know how I can get one?” I hate that I’m so spoiled, but I’ve never lifted a finger in my life. I have no idea how I can get a job.

“Uhm sure. Here in Portavira?”

“Actually, I was thinking of moving to Cordonia city after graduation. “Drake stops walking for a second. “It’s too late to enroll for next semester, but I can get a job and start college next year.”

He finally starts walking again and nods slowly. “What do you want to do?”

I blush. My dreams don’t include being famous or rich. All I want is a good, quiet life. Falling in love, having a family. Doing a job I’d enjoy and traveling as much as possible -even if it’s on a low budget. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

Drake looks at me. “I swear I won’t, Lexie. There’s nothing you can say that I’ll find dumb. It’s just not possible.”

“I love books. They offer you new worlds. They allow you to escape and be someone else for a few pages. You can never be alone when you’re reading a book. I’d love to have a job where I would be surrounded by books. Maybe become a librarian and then open a bookstore one day.”

Drake nods but doesn’t reply. I knew he would find my dream stupid.

“I know it’s not much-“

He stands in front of me and tilts my chin until our eyes meet. “It’s amazing, Lexie. I was just thinking how great you’d be at it. Remember the top 5 assignment for Mr. Daniels?”

Of course, I do. Mr. Daniels, our English teacher, asked us to make a list of our five favorite books and recommend them to the class.

I nod. “Yeah”

“Well, I read all the books on your list. I checked them out of the school’s library and fuck, I loved them all. Especially the one from that Krakauer guy.”

“Into the Wild?”

“Yep. I really enjoyed it. The way that guy Christopher reinvented himself spoke to me.” He holds my gaze. “You’d be an awesome librarian, Lex. You would also be an amazing writer. I remember that short story you wrote for Mr. Daniel’s class. The one about the lonely girl and how she traveled through time with her mind. You have no idea how much I loved it.”

I can’t believe he remembers that story. We had that assignment more than a year ago. “I’ve always wanted to write, but my dad thinks my stories aren’t good enough.”

“Your father is a dick. Your stories are amazing.”

He looks at me in a way that makes my knees weak. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, so I feel it again. The connection with him. The desire. Maybe the only way this would go away is if I give in to it.

“There is something you can do for me,” I say, surprising myself. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Drake.

And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get you out of my system.”

He stands still as a statue. “What?”

“Get yourself out of my system.” It starts to rain, and it makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years, you provoked me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes a frantic sound, his eyes slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands that night in my garden. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…”

Drake falls toward me a step, clutching the center of his chest. “Lexie—”

“Please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Drake? So I can get on with my life knowing fantasy was way better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat closes. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” As we walk, I can see the mixture of devastation and hope in his eyes.

“And what if reality lives up to the fantasy?”

“It won’t,” I say fast, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly live up to it. And yet I suck in a nervous breath when he crosses the divide between us, every cell in my body craving him. Fight or flight. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from wounded animal to determined predator, the rain causing his dark hair to hang low over one eye, dripping, his hands ready at his sides.

“Are you so sure, Lexie?”

Damn my hesitation. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll prove me right in one night. I can move forward without feeling like I’m leaving something behind.”

“What if your fantasies come true tonight? Could we ever move forward as…as an us?”

I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. “There can never be an us, Drake. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll never change my mind about that.” I shake my head. “How can you think I would?”

“Maybe I think if I want it hard enough, it’ll come true.”

“It won’t,” I whisper, starting to ask myself if I’m making a mistake. Opening myself up for even more heartache and pinning for this man than I’ve already lived through. It feels like a lifetime’s worth. “One n-night.”

“No backing out from this point on?” My heart beats urgently.

“No backing out.”

He’s silent so long; I’m not sure he’s going to respond. And then, all at once, he reaches me in two strides and scoops me up into his arms. I realize he’s going to bring me into the cabin, “I’ve been studying you for years, Lexie O’Brien. I’ve been hanging on to your every sigh, every expression, and mood. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.” We reach the house in a matter of minutes, and he doesn’t stop; he just keeps going until we’re in his room. And oh God, I have made a severe miscalculation. Because Drake’s showing me exactly what’s always been in my heart and mind when I thought of us together, it’s my fantasy come to life, the two of us wrapped in the arms of the other. And as he turns me, urging my legs around his waist, his ravenous mouth bearing down on mine, I realize I might never recover from this.

#axwalker writes #tw abuse #tw toxic love #tw violence

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

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𝑴𝒂𝒇𝒊𝒂! 𝑨𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒛: 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝑾𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝑰𝒔 𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, supporting, justifying or encouraging mafia activities or lifestyle. This is all fictional and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

❅𝐾𝑖𝑚 𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔

You huffed as you tried to zip up your dress but to no avail. It would not budge because of the baby bump that was growing. In one last attempt to zip it up, you actually ended up ripping the zipper, causing you to gasp in horror.

"Oh no." Your hand covered your mouth as you stared in shock at yourself in the mirror.

"Honey are you ready to go?" Hongjoong asked, as he came into the room.

Hongjoong noticed how you kept staring at your reflection in the mirror, immobile and not responding to him.

"Hey baby? What is it?" He came up behind you, his arms sliding down protectively around your stomach.

Unwillingly, you let out tears and started sobbing.

"I'm....fat." You whined as you wiped some tears off your face, effectively making some of your eye makeup smudge.

Hongjoong pouted and shook his head cutely at you.

"Baby no. You're not fat. You're carrying a baby, our baby. Our beautiful little bundle of joy that we created together and that I can't wait to bring into this world with you."

You smiled softly at his words. Placing a kiss to your cheek, he continued:

"You're absolutely beautiful love. And if I must admit, I think you look more lovely with the baby bump." He sent a wink to you through the mirror, causing you to burst out giggling.

"Tell you what? Let's skip the dinner date and just stay home and cuddle. Ok?"

❅𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎

Sitting on your bed, waiting for Seonghwa to come out of the bathroom, you kept replaying your mother in law's words in your head.

"I remember when I gave birth to Seonghwa. He came a little earlier than expected while his father was away on a business trip. So I had to go through the birth process all alone. You can imagine how scared I was."

Her story shook you to your core. Seonghwa often had to go away. What if the same thing happened to you? What if he misses the birth of your child? And you had to endure all of it alone?

You were so immersed in your worries, you failed to notice that Seonghwa was standing next to you and were woken up when his hand touched your shoulder.

"What is it my dear?" He asked, knowing something was troubling you.

"I don't want to go through this by myself..." You admitted, one of your hands going to your bump to get your point across.

Seonghwa understood what you were talking about, the way you kept quiet and became pensive when his mom told her story did not go unnoticed by him. Seonghwa kneeled in front of you. Taking your hands in his, he promised you:

"And you won't. I'm not going to leave you or our child alone during this time. My father missed my birth and it's something that he regrets to this day. I don't want to do the same. I want to be there for you and our baby. I'm going to be there every step of the way. I promise."

Leaning in, he sealed his promise with a kiss, and you were now much calmer with his reassuring words.

❅𝐽𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑢𝑛ℎ𝑜

You took a deep breath as soon as you stepped inside the house, relieved to finally be back in the comfort of your own home. It's not that you hated your in laws, but to have them constantly tell you how to take care of their future grandson, because apparently you don't know what you're doing, irritated you.

If you were honest, at times you felt like they just saw you as an incubator instead of what you really were: Yunho's wife and mother of his child. It was horrible.

You went to the kitchen and decided to prepare yourself a little snack. You opted for something on the spicier side since you were craving it really badly. Right at that moment, Yunho came in and when he saw what you were eating he quickly took it away.

"Hey!" You exclaimed, trying to get your food back.

"You can't eat spicy food. Mom said it increases the risk of a miscarriage. " Yunho said while holding the plate high above your head.

"No it doesn't! Now give it back." You desperately tried to jump and take it away from him.

"Y/N stop doing that. It could hurt the baby or-"

"Oh for fuck's sake Yunho will you shut up and stop repeating everything your parents say?! I'm sick and tired of them basically tell me I'm not a good mother. I already feel shitty enough as it is with the mood swings and pregnancy pains, and I don't need you or anyone else making me feel worse than I already do!"

You finally snapped. You turned around and began crying tears of pain, fear, rage and frustration. Yunho felt horrible. He realized now he should have protected you more but he didn't. Carefully, he hugged you from behind.

"Baby, you're doing an amazing job. You'll see, you're going to be the best mom in the whole world. I'm proud of you. And.... I'm sorry about my parents. I promise I won't let them have a say in how we raise our baby anymore. Ok?"

He turned you around and began wiping your tears away.

"Don't cry anymore love. I hate to see you cry. Could you please smile for me?"

❅𝐾𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔

It was already difficult for Yeosang and you to get pregnant. You spent almost 3 years trying, about to give up hope, when it finally happened. You were pregnant and Yeosang was elated with the news.

Although you and him were extremely careful, being your first child and everything, you still felt uneasy at times. It didn't help when you went to visit your family and ended up finding out all of your aunts have had at least 1 miscarriage before.

"Don't be so surprised dear. All women in our family have had a miscarriage."

You looked over at your own mother, who unfortunately had to confirm their allegations and tell you about the older sister you were supposed to have.

Since then you became paranoid. It was already a struggle to get pregnant, what if you were to actually lose the baby. One night, you had a terrible nightmare that had you shaking and bawling your eyes out. It was so intense, Yeosang had to wake you up and hold you for 10 minutes until you calmed down.

You then told him about what your aunts said, about your dream and your fear of something happening to your baby. Although Yeosang was scared as well, he had to be strong for both of you.

"Honey, please don't think such things. So far we've been very careful about this and the doctor says everything is fine. If you worry too much about this, it could be harmful."

"I know, I know Yeosang.....but what if I do have a miscarriage? What will we do then? How do we know we won't have one?" You asked him.

Yeosang held back the tears threatening to spill out. He refused to imagine that scenario in his head.

"We don't know Y/N, no one ever knows these things....but I do know that I love you and our baby. And I know we're doing our best. I can't promise you that nothing will happen....but whatever happens, I want you to know you're not alone. I'm here with you, by your side and we're going to get through all this together. No matter what comes."

Yeosang kissed your forehead reassuringly. Although he was scared, he had hope that both of you would be able to bring your baby into this world safely and unharmed.

❅𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛

You immediately turned off the TV. You internally cursed yourself for watching another drama therapist show. You usually rolled your eyes when it turnt out someone cheated on their spouse, but this recent one made you paranoid. Because the husband had cheated on his pregnant wife because 'he had needs she couldn't fulfill'.

It got you paranoid. You immediately started wondering if San would ever cheat on you, that is if he hadn't already. It had been 5 months since you last had sex. For all you knew, he could be seeing someone else. As if on cue, San walked into the house.

"Hi honey. How's my lovely-"

"Who are you seeing?" You immediately accused him.

San looked at you as if you were crazy.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"Don't lie to me! Who are you cheating on me with?" Maybe you were jumping to conclusions too hastily, but you were so anxious to think rationally.

"Who am I cheating on you with? What has gotten into you woman?" San could not believe what he was hearing.

That's when you broke down and confessed rather embarrassingly the whole situation. San listened to you patiently, without judgment and you felt worse.

"I'm sorry." You apologized.

"Baby it's fine, I get why you'd get worried, but trust me. I'm not some asshole that's going to cheat on my wife, who by the way is carrying my child. I mean seriously, who does that?" San actually cringed at the thought, making you laugh a little.

"Baby I love you and only you. And why would I want anyone else when I'm lucky enough to have all this?" San smiled as he pulled you close to him.

"So you still find me attractive?" You asked with doe eyes.

San chuckled.

"Baby I think you're the most beautiful person in the world. And besides....."

Carefully, he picked you up and began taking you to your bedroom.

"Who says we can't make love while you're pregnant?"

❅𝑆𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑖

Mingi came into the house all happy. Wanting to surprise you with a date in a fancy restaurant, he waltzed into the room and hugged you tightly.

"Hi love!" He screeched loudly as he pecked your lips.

"And hello to you as well." He gently rubbed your belly, cooing softly.

He looked back at you, noticing that you loved out of sorts.

"Is something wrong?" He asked.

"I'm just not in a good mood." You replied, your voice had a cold tone to it.

Mingi smiled. "Perfect! I know just how to cheer you up! I made reservations for a date! So why don't you make yourself look even more beautiful so we can go?"

"I don't want to." You said, sitting on the bed.

Mingi pouted at you.

"But baby. I really want to take you and our baby out. So please-"

"No Mingi! I told you, I'm not in a good mood! I'm cranky and this pregnancy is killing me, I'm sore all over my body and I'm carrying an extra 40 pounds that I'm not used to and it's all your fault!"

Mingi stood there, shook at your sudden outburst.

"My fault?"

"Yes! You were the one who wanted to have a baby, it was your idea yet you're not the one having to go through all this! It's me! You selfish idiot!" You crossed your arms and glared at him.

Usually Mingi would have been hurt by your words, but after months of dealing with your raging hormones, he knew you didn't actually mean what you said. Sitting next to you, he wrapped an arm around you.

"Come on Y/N, you know you don't mean that..."

Chuckling, he teased:

"And if I remember correctly, you were thrilled and wanted to immediately start trying when I brought up the idea of having a baby."

You poked your bottom lip out in annoyance, not wanting to admit he was right. Mingi laughed softly and kissed your pouty lips.

"Did you know you're even more adorable when you get all feisty and angry?" He said as he pinched your cheeks.

"Stop." You swatted his arm away, unable to contain the smile that soon spread on your face.

Mingi may be your annoying husband at times, but he always knew how to make you soft.

❅𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑊𝑜𝑜𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔

"Must you go?"

You held onto Wooyoung's arm, refusing to let him go.

"I'm sorry about canceling movie night darling, but it's important and the guys need me."

Wooyoung sighed as he put on his jacket and began loading his revolver.

"It's not that it's just..."

You stopped yourself and looked down. Wooyoung stopped what he was doing and caressed your arms.

"What is it babe?" He urged you to tell him.

You looked at him and told him:

"I'm scared ok? You've been doing this for years, but now I'm scared. Scared of something happening to you...or someone breaking in and hurting me or our baby..."

You couldn't form any more words, getting choked up with your emotions. You began thinking about all the worst case scenarios that could possibly happen. For all you knew, you could end up being a young widow and single mother for the rest of your life.

Wooyoung pulled you against him, his hand stroking your hair. That was all it took for you to start crying as you held onto him like your life or his depended on it.

"Sweetheart, I promised I'd protect you and I'm not breaking my promise. Nothing will happen to you or our child." He whispered softly.

"What about you? What if something happens to you while on a mission?"

Wooyoung actually let out a laugh at that.

"Babygirl, nothing can kill me. I'm practically bulletproof."

You hit his chest.

"What? It's true. Come on Y/N. I'm not about to let anything happen to me. I need to stay alive to be there and hold our precious daughter when she arrives."

You rolled your eyes.

"We don't know if it's a girl yet-"

"She's a girl! And that's final! We're having a girl!" He exclaimed, refusing to believe he was wrong.

❅𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝐽𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜

"What's on your mind honey bunch?"

Jongho knew you well enough to know something was troubling you.

"Do you think this was a good idea?" You asked him.

"Ordering food from this place? Definitely not. This is why I say we don't try new places." Jongho let out a tiny 'bleh' when he tried something that was a little too spicy for his liking.

"No....I mean...the baby."

Jongho dropped his fork and looked at you in shock.

"You're....you're not actually regretting this..are you?" He was afraid to hear your answer.

"No, not the baby .... but me." You said.

"You? Why?" Jongho got up and went immediately went to your side.

"I mean....what if I end up being a bad mother? What if I don't know what to do? I'm scared Jongho." You looked at him, face full of worry.

"Pumpkin, listen. I'm scared too. I mean.... it is our first time."

You both chuckled at that .

"But the thing is, we're both going to try our best to give our baby a good life and to protect it as best we can. And I can assure you that I think you'll be a wonderful mother."

Your eyes lit up at his comment.

"You really think so?"

Jongho nodded and pulled you onto his lap.

"I do. I mean, you take good care of Mingi. I'd say you already know the basics of taking care of a baby." He snorted.

You laughed despite not wanting to.

"You're so mean to him!"

"If you want extra practice, I can ask him to come."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez mafia au #mafia!au #mafia!ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

Afterglow - Part 6

A/N: Honey Bee finally made the smartest decision of her life in the last chapter and now...time to deal with the fallout. Thank you guys for supporting and loving this story too! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: None

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Spitting out the toothpaste into the sink, you groaned slightly when you realized that you had left your mouthwash back on your desk. Tilting your head under the tap, you got a mouthful of water and swished it around in your mouth, trying to get the last bits of toothpaste out.

When you were satisfied with the lackluster brushing, you quickly splashed some cold water onto your face to wake yourself up. But it was no use - you still looked as tired and dragged out as you felt. There were dark circles under your eyes, your lips were chapped and cracked, and the joy you normally held in your eyes was all but gone. You had been going through the motions for the last three, feeling more like an empty shell than anything else.

But you felt liberated - free. More so than you had in a long time. That in itself made your current struggle worth it.

Grabbing your toothpaste, toothbrush, and hairbrush, you stalked out of the bathroom, ready to slink back to your office before anyone else arrived.

Looking furtively around the hall, you walked the short distance to your own office, almost making it to safety when you heard your name being called softly. Groaning inwardly, you cleared your throat and turned around, plastering on the best smile you could.

"Ally," you said softly, "y-you're here early!"

"I was just thinking the same thing," she joked, and while you could tell she meant no harm, it still caused you to panic slightly. She was well aware of you calling off your engagement, hell the whole world seemed to know, but she never seemed to pity you for it. Her eyes flicked to the items in your hands as a warmth crept into your chest and blossomed over your whole face, "I'm meeting a client early this morning because it was the only thing that fit into his schedule. Are you..."

You remained silent for a moment, hanging your head before letting out a long sigh, "look, I've just been staying here since things ended with Chad. I'm trying to find my own place, but its been a bit of a difficult go. Turns that a lot of people don't want to rent to you if you happen to have supposedly wronged Chad Williams. It seems like everyone knows him."

She reached out and gave your shoulder a soft, reassuring squeeze. Meeting her eyes, you found a small smile on her face, luckily not one of pity, "I'm sorry he's making things miserable still. I'm guessing your parents are out of the question?"

"Absolutely not an option," you admitted with a stiff laugh, "my mom seemed okay at first but she and my father quickly came to the conclusion that I was in the wrong and making a horrible mistake. They insisted I was just going through a phase because of nerves. When I told them I was sure about my decision and wasn’t going back, they all but...disowned me. Imagine the shame I’ve brought upon them in their minds...they’re so old fashioned. Maybe they’ll come around one day.”

"Yikes," she said as you nodded, "can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I never liked him," she admitted softly, causing you to almost give yourself whiplash as you looked over at her, "there was just something about him that was off. I think - I know, you can do so much better."

"Thank you," you said as you laughed lightly, trying to hold the tears that threatened to well up at bay, "I hope so too."

"I mean it," she insisted, "you're kind, smart, pretty, and you've got a good heart. What more could anyone ask for?"

"Apparently a dutiful, quiet little wife..."

"Very funny," she teased, "why don't you come and stay with us? While you get your own place? We've got an extra bedroom that's not being used, and it's much better than staying here. Have you been sleeping on your hard old couch?”

"Yes..."

"Absolutely not," she shook her head, "come over when you're done for the day. We'll get the room ready for you. Anna will be happy to see you again too. And you know what, it's not an option, its a demand. Just come over tonight and we'll get you settled. I'll have Anna pick up some wine for dinner and everything."

"Ally, you're much too kind..." you said as her phone stared to ring. She looked at the screen and a big smile spread across her visage as her wife's name popped up on the screen.

"Speak of the devil," she laughed lightly, "tonight! No if, ands, or buts!"

You could only nod as she walked away, chattering excitedly as she went to her own office. Before stepping in and closing the door, she gave you a grin and wave that was enough to cause a single tear to roll down your cheek. It had been weeks since anyone had even shown you an ounce of kindness; most people had decided to scorn you instead, blaming you for everything that had happened. Wiping the warm drop away, you stepped foot into your own office, stashing your toiletries away for what you hoped would be the last time. Hopefully that everything you'd finally be able to have a proper, long, hot shower and sleep in a bed, two luxuries that you had been greatly missing.

Pulling out a dress from the small wardrobe, you slipped it on, vowing to stop your little pity party. Sure, things weren't ideal right now, but you were still so much better off than others. That was something you did not take for granted.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Men really can be the worst,” Anna laughed, almost snorting into her wine as you held up your glass in a mock salute, “can you imagine being that pathetic and trying to sabotage someone you supposedly loved? I think it speaks volumes to his character.”

“The longer we were together, the more I realized that it was never about love, even if that’s how it started out. It was always about appearances and trying to please everyone else. It was getting so tiring.”

“I can only imagine,” Ally gave her your leg a small pat as you downed the rest of your glass, “but at least you’re free now. It’s easy to fall into routine and not realize how unhappy we’ve become. We get used to just staying on one path. Usually it takes something big to make us realize what we’re doing isn’t what we wanted in the first place.”

“Okay Dr. Ally,” Anna teased her wife, “we’re not at the office. But I agree...I am curious, and happy, as to what caused you to realize that you deserve more.”

You felt the blood draining from your face almost immediately as you swallowed nervously, mouth dry. You weren’t about to delve into the memories and dreams that had been plaguing you over the weeks, becoming increasingly more frequent the closer your former wedding date had approached. Frankly, you hadn’t even admitted that to yourself yet, not out loud anyway.

How were you supposed to tell yourself, let anyone else, that the reason you realized you deserved was better because you’d been dreaming of your high school boyfriend again? It had been twenty years, twenty long years without him - there was no reason you should have even given him a second thought. Yet...here you were. Still hung up on Frankie Morales, the boy that had earned your heart...and then brought it into a million pieces. You knew, you would be the first to admit, that it wasn’t all his fault, that you were to blame to an extent as well, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Ever since the day that you had run into him again, a day that should have been like any other, he’d been living rent free in your mind. Even if you hated him, even if you were still mad at him after all this time. You couldn’t help but wonder - what if. What if.

What if he had come to California with you and you’d both stayed there? What if you had waited for him while you went to school and he was in the military? What if he’d come back to you long ago? Would you still be together? Would you be married to him? Would you have a daughter or son that took on both of your best qualities? Or would you have eventually fallen out and broken up anyway, only to loathe each with every fiber of your being? Would you have stayed together?”

What if. What if. What if.

It was that haunted you for so long now.

“Umm,” you snapped back into reality and pushed the thought of the boy you had loved out of your mind. You set the glass back down and made a small, noncommittal sound, “it was just a lot of things. The more real things became with the wedding planning the more I realized that I didn’t want this. It was at my last dress fitting actually, that I realized I couldn’t do it.”

“That must have been quite a wake up call,” Anna’s eyes widened as she imagined the scene as you nodded, taking the almost empty bottle of wine and pouring the remainder into your class.

“It was,” you admitted with a long sigh, “you should have been the poor dress maker. I almost ran out on her. But you know, even though things are far from perfect right now, I would still do it all again.”

“Cheers to that,” Ally held up her class, and the two of you clinked yours against it, “now to bigger and better things. You can, and will, do so much better.”

“Thank you both,” just being in their presence, let alone their home, had you feeling infinitely better, “I don’t even know where to begin to thank you.”

“What are friends for?”

“I, however, do have some more good news,” Anna was proud of herself as the two of your gave her an inquisitive look, “I spoke to my friend who is a realtor today, no connection to Chad or anything, and he said he has a perfect little house available! It’s a little on the outskirts of town, a small, quiet neighborhood, but that it would be perfect for you. It’s not big, just a little two bedroom, one bath, but it’s all been redone recently, and it’s quaint. He showed me some pictures and I think you’d really like it.”

“You did...you did this for me?” you felt another wave of tears sting at the back of your eyes as she nodded.

“I’m not trying to push this on you at all, or anything of the sort,” she promised, “but we were talking and it just came up and I thought of you. I thought I’d just tell you in case you were interested...you are, of course, welcome to stay with us however long you want.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” you said softly, “truly. I’d love to see the place. If you like, I’m sure it’ll be great. And honestly, it would be nice to get out of the city and be a little bit out of the way and I don’t need anything much. I just want a place that will feel like home...my own place.”

“Obviously it comes with the stipulation that we will get to help decorate and pick out furniture if you move into it.”

“I would expect nothing less,” you agreed, “it’s going to be nice getting my own things and having it be truly mine.”

“A fresh start,” she agreed, “I’ll tell Elijah that we’ll stop by tomorrow and take a look? How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you agreed, feeling your heart finally feel warm again, as a wave of calm washed over you, “absolutely perfect.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next two weeks were a whirlwind of moving, although you technically didn’t have much to move, furniture shopping, unpacking, and organizing your new home.

The house was cute, an older little home that had been recently renovated with a small yard and a perfect spot for a garden. You could already picture yourself gardening once the cooler autumn and winter months were over.

It wasn’t huge, but it had a spare bedroom you decided would serve as a home office and occasional guest room, although you figured you weren’t going to have many of those considering how easily everyone had cut you off. It was open, warm, and inviting, and it was perfect for what you wanted. It had brought up the idea of maybe adopting a dog or cat to keep as your friend. It had made you think of something that Frankie always said: anyone who wasn’t willing to share their home with an animal was as good as heartless.

It served as a sharp contrast to your former living situation; everything in the apartment you had shared with Chad had been cold, dark, and minimalistic. Nothing about it had ever felt truly homey, more like an ornate display at an art museum you were afraid to even look at. Chad had never wanted an animal of any sorts, not even a goldfish, claiming that it would take up too much time, too much space, and he just didn’t want something to take care of.

But your new home was the polar opposite, it was romantic and airy and filled with items and trinkets that made it feel like a home. A little animal friend would fit in perfectly. You were fitting in perfectly already.

You’d even made it a point to go around the neighborhood and introduce yourself to people. Your justification was that you had literally nothing to lose, your family had turned their backs on you, your ex-fiance had taken almost all of the so called friends you’d had, and were left to your own devices. In the worst case scenario, you’d have met a few unsavory people, and in the best case scenario you’d get to know your neighbors and maybe make a few friends.

Something in the stars seemed to align, as your neighbors turned out to be kind and welcoming, and you were sure the cookies you offered them weren't a deterrent either. They were mostly either older couples, or small families, a few roommates that lived together. The normalcy of it all was endearing, and to know that you had a place that you were welcome was enough to let your heart rest easy.

The only mystery that remained was your next door neighbor, the one on your left side. Whoever it was had been missing, gone or something, since you’d moved in several weeks before. While trying to maintain a respectful distance, you’d kept an eye on the house to see if you could spy anyone coming or going, see a car...something. But you never did - not even seen so much as a porch light flicker on. It seemed odd, especially in this neighborhood.

One afternoon, in the middle of unpacking the new bits of furniture for your living room and rearranging everything for about the tenth time, curiosity got the better of you. Maybe it was because you were in the middle of watching some true crime documentaries as you worked but you just felt...nervous. You were concerned about the health and safety of this mysterious neighbor that you hadn’t even met. You’d hastily wiped the sweat from your brow before rushing over to the neighbor on the other side of the seemingly nonexistent neighbor.

Unfortunately, much to your chagrin, the other neighbor, an older widowed man by the name of Eddie, who happened to have an adorable dog that you decided you’d offer to take on walks, was just as clueless as you.

He said he’d seen the man, at least you narrowed it down to that much, come on and go on occasion, but that he kept odd hours. He commented that he must have worked evenings or something, because he wasn’t around much at that time and it was always quiet during the day. Apparently it wasn’t odd for him to be gone for days at a time, or at least for no one to notice him. At least he’d be a quiet neighbor if he ever appeared again. But the older man hadn’t seemed too concerned, so figured there was nothing to worry about. You ended finding out that he was likely around your age, with dark hair. That was about all that Eddie knew; he said the man whose name he couldn’t even remember had always kept to himself since he’d moved in a few years ago.

You’d thanked him, given the small fluffy dog a few pets and trudged back to your own place, arms filled with various baked goods, including a delicious smelling loaf of banana bread. Eddie had proudly declared that he had taken up the hobby of baking in his retirement and he always had been plenty to share. You made a mental note to store that little piece of info away for future use.

And yet still, even as more days passed, you still didn’t see hide nor hair of the mystery man. You’d gone to work each morning, wondering if maybe you just missed him and you had conflicting schedules. You didn’t know why you even cared so much, or what drew you to solving this mystery, but you were just inexplicably invested.

One evening, as you were watching some Netflix and unwinding with a glass of wine, browsing the adoptable animals at the local shelter, it hit you. It was like the proverbial lightbulb had been switched on and you came up with a brilliant idea. When you’d moved in, you’d taken some fresh, homemade cookies to everyone in the small cul-de-sac - why didn’t you just make some for him?

It was brilliant, you thought to yourself as you set the wine glass down and almost tossed your laptop to the floor in excitement. You would make your favorite cookies, soft, gooey chocolate chip ones you fancied so much, get them all safely in a container and drop them off when you felt for work in the morning. If they were gone by the time you came home that would mean he had to have been there.

Yes, you thought to yourself, this is brilliant. No one could turn down a plate of fresh cookies.

So you’d spent the rest of the evening, bouncing around the kitchen excitedly, pouring your heart and soul into the every little step it took to make the perfect treat. By the time you’d gone to bed, excited and worn out, the little package was sitting on your counter for your to grab on your way out. This was going to be it, you just knew it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You woke up early the next morning, even before your alarm went off, a smile on your face despite being tired. You almost stopped dead in your tracks when you realized that this was the first, the first time in what felt like a small eternity that you woke up like that. It was a good feeling, and you hoped that you would be able to hang onto it.

Once you’d showered and done up your makeup and hair to your liking, you slipped on a pretty golden dress. It always made you feel pretty, the color bringing a slight bit of joy into your heart. You always felt confident and good in it, and you decided it was just what you needed. If your last session ended early enough, you even planned on stopping by the animal shelter to see if you made a connection with any of the adoptable animals. It was going to be a good day. You could feel it in your bones.

Once you were ready to go, you grabbed your pre-packed lunch from the fridge, along with your purse and the package for your mystery neighbor. Almost flouncing over to his porch because you were buzzing with energy, you hopped up the steps and set it on the front porch and center, in the middle of the doormat, topped off with a handwritten note introducing yourself. The mat was a generic one, and you did a little look around to see if you could find a name or any personal touches around the porch. But there was nothing - no clue as to who it could be. It was no matter, you told yourself, you would have your answers soon enough.

Giving the neatly wrapped container one last fond look, you headed to your car and off to work. Hopefully you’d be busy enough to keep your mind occupied. It was silly to get so invested in something so trivial and yet...here you were. An eternal dreamer and optimist at heart, just like you always had been, even as a teenager. Even if you had to suppress that side of yourself for some time, more so with each passing year, you were still the same girl underneath it all.

The day felt like it had like it went by in a blur as you saw several of your regular patients, feeling like you were finally able to help them properly and give them your undivided attention. It went so well that you did manage to finish up early, which meant you could have your fun and go look at animals. You knew it would be a challenge to meet different pets and not be able to take them all home, but you were willing to give it the old college try.

You hadn’t bothered to stop home and change, opting to go straight to the shelter.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you'd gotten there and started looking at the different dogs, you knew it would be hard.

So many of the sweet dogs came up to you, some wagging their tails in nervous excitement, some just beside themselves, but others were more reluctant, sitting and observing you. You went up to as many as you could, keeping a respectful distance from them and offering them your hand to sniff. A couple of them give you a few licks, letting you reach in and pet them, but getting distracted as soon as they spied other people. Sweet dogs, all of them, but those weren’t the ones for you. As you walked through the various dogs, you were disheartened to find that you didn’t seem to have a connection to any of them. You hoped they would go to good homes soon regardless. Maybe it wasn’t your day to find a companion, which was totally okay with you. You’d just come back some other day and make sure that one of them got a home in your adobe.

But as you neared the end of the last row, you stopped when you spotted a small dog, small for being a pitbull that was, sitting in the corner of her kennel, a sad, dejected look on her face. She was a pretty thing, light tan with white marking on her sweet face, but her eyes contained a deep sadness.

“Hi, sweet girl,” you said softly as you didn’t even hesitate to drop to your knees, dropping on the floor of the kennel, sliding a few fingers under the barrier keeping you from her, trying to coax her to you. She observed you with keen interest, but remained rooted in her spot, “you are so pretty! I bet you’re just as sweet too, aren’t you? I can tell…”

“She’s very sweet,” one of the shelter’s volunteers, a young boy by the name of Lucas that had let you in, said as he walked up to you, “but she’s really shy. She’s less than a year old, but she’s already had a go of it.”

“What happened to her?” you asked gently, keeping your voice down so you wouldn’t startle her, “she looks so sad.”

“She was abused by her former owner, sadly. They found her when they went to raid the owner’s home, apparently he was a small time drug dealer on top of it,” he explained and you made a small in the back of your throat as you just looked at her. It made your heart break to know that this poor animal, and so many others like her, were being abused for no reason - not that anyone, person or animal, should ever have been abused, “it’s made her shy, but she does warm up to people.”

“What’s her name?” you asked as she moved ever so marginally closer to you. You smiled at her, giving her an encouraging little nod.

“Daisy.”

“Daisy,” you called softly as her ears perked up slightly. It suited her, you decided, a soft pretty name for a pretty girl, “hi sweet Daisy. You are a big lovebug underneath it all, aren’t you?”

She turned her slightly to look at as you offered her a small, reassuring nod.

“How about Miss Daisy Mae?” you asked her and you got a glimpse of her tail wagging ever so slightly, “yeah, I think that’s perfect too. May I pet you?”

It was silent, completely so sans for the other dogs in their kennels as you attempted to gain her trust. You didn’t want to scare her off, but you wanted to see if you could get her to come closer. Lucas told you could stay as long as you wanted, and you decided that you would do just that, plopping onto your bottom as you gently spoke to her. You spent some time sitting there, talking to her about anything and everything, and slowly, inch by precious inch, she came closer to you until she was just a few inches from your hand. When you moved your hand and she didn’t flinch, you gently petted her muzzle, tracing over it delicately with a few fingers.

“You’ve been through a lot,” you mused quietly and she gently rubbed her head into your hand, “but you’ve got so much life left to live. So many happy things to come. Would you like to come home with me and see? I have a big bed that I have all to myself, and I could really use a companion to take up some of the space. Would you like to help me?”

She made a small sound as she looked up at you, her tail wagging ever so slightly. That was enough to convince you that you were making the right decision. Giving Daisy one last gentle touch, you slowly pulled your hand back to keep from startling her and jumped to your feet. She was yours, it hadn’t taken much to figure that out, and you were going to make sure she came home with you.

Telling her you would be back in a little bit, you went off in search of Lucas, to tell him to get you all the paperwork so you could bring her home with that day.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as Daisy was all yours, you’d set her up in your car, draping a big, soft blanket over the backseat for her. You were glad you kept one in your car for whatever occasion called for it; this was the perfect time. As soon as she seemed to realize what was happening, Daisy’s eyes had lit up and she already seemed like a different dog, her tail going softly, but nonstop as she stayed close to your side.

You’d stopped by the pet store on your way home, bringing her in with you as you stocked up on the best dog food, treats, several big fluffy beds (one for each room of the house naturally), and let her pick out several toys. Whatever she wanted she got, honestly, and before you knew it before pushing a huge cartful to the counter to the pay. Daisy, now in a pretty yellow collar and leash, followed closely by your side, a little stuffed bear in her mouth. This felt so right, so natural, almost like you had meant to find her. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had felt this much joy in your heart, and you hoped the feeling would never go away.

“And this is where we live,” you told her as you pulled into the driveway, pulling up to the garage and turning off the car. She stood up and went to the window, looking out eagerly. Your break broke a little when you realize she probably never got to run and play like any puppy should, but you vowed to change that. You got and opened the door, not even bothering to stop her as she jumped out and started to sniff everywhere.

Sighing contentedly at the sight of the happy dog, the one that had quickly turned from nervous to optimistic, you started to gather everything out of the car to bring inside. Daisy came back to your side, following you with keen attention as you opened the door to the house and let her explore.

It wasn’t until your last excursion to the car to bring in the last of the toys, that your attention wandered back to your MIA neighbor. When you studied his house, you noticed that all the lights were off, and there was no car in the driveway. The package you had you left for him was still right where you had placed that morning. A small, dejected sigh left your lips as you quickly dashed over and retrieved the package. It was only slightly heartbreaking, but you knew it wasn’t due to any fault of yours. But still...you couldn’t help but wonder. Who was he? Where was he? Maybe one day your questions would be answered, but at least for now you had your new friend to keep you company. Just as you thought about her, you heard a small, almost tiny bark from your door as Daisy poked her head out and looked excitedly at you.

“Coming sweet girl!” you promised her as you ran back over to her. This day was decidedly not a waste in the slightest, you reminded yourself, you had a new friend and that was more important than anything else.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Several more days passed, and Daisy adjusted to life with you without a hitch. She really was the sweetest girl you had met, and she had won a big spot in your heart, and bed, almost instantly. Gone were the cookies you had baked for the neighbor you thought might not actually exist, eaten with some milk as you watched Netflix late into the evening with Daisy snoozing next to you.

Something though, whatever little stubborn streak you had, told you to keep trying.

So you did.

That night you dragged yourself back to the kitchen and repeated the painstaking process of making your now neighborhood famous cookies again. He was going to get these cookies come hell or high water. This time Daisy joined you in the kitchen and watched your every move intently, as you walked her through the process, giving her your best impression of some lofty Food Network chef.

Just as you had previously done earlier in the week, you prepped everything and stuck the same note on the top, making sure it looked perfect. Even if it ended up as another batch that you would eat, you wanted to go through the efforts and ensure it was perfect.

The next morning, you herded Daisy into the car, allowing her to come to your office with you. She had been enjoying coming to your office and greeting your clients, being a good girl and laying on her bed while you worked. Many of them seemed to find her comforting, and as thought she could sense when they needed something, which she probably did, she’d often go to comfort them with wet kisses and nuzzles. Ally had suggested that you look into her having certified as a therapy dog, which you decided was a perfect idea.

You wandered over to his porch and left the little package again and turned to head off to work. Whatever was meant to happen would happen. So if he didn’t come and get the cookies, so be it. You’d stop worrying about it and let it go.

When you got home that evening, you brought everything inside and let Daisy into the backyard to roam around before her dinner time, when you looked through the front windows to try and see your neighbor’s porch. You huffed when you came to the conclusion that you were at just the wrong angle to be able to see anything. Stalking out the front door to get a better look, you sighed deeply when the package was once again there. What had you really expected? You’d struck out for weeks now, the man was an enigma to yourself and everyone else around, it was a far cry that you’d ever really see him.

Grumbling at yourself for being too hopeful and optimistic, you trudged over to his porch, ready to take the cookies back again and enjoy them for yourself. Maybe you could bring them, and Daisy, over to Eddie and see if he would enjoy them and the dogs would get along. It wasn’t terribly exciting, but it was something anyway.

You bent down to pick up the small container, ready to head back home and get on with your day. But just as you swooped up the container, you heard the door unlock, causing you to jump back in surprise, dropping the container and letting it clatter to the ground. You took a step back and looked up, finding the door open, but the screen closed. Squinting your eyes, you tried to make out the person on the other side but found it almost impossible.

“H-hi,” you stammered nervously, hoping the person wouldn’t think you were stealing or snooping around, “I-I moved into the neighborhood a few weeks ago, and I was just...I made cookies! I was going to introduce myself but I hadn’t seen you or anything, so I figured I’d leave them for you. They-they’re not old though, I made this batch last night.”

Nothing but silence met your ears for several moments as you nervously picked up the container to display it for him. You were nervous suddenly, terrified that you had somehow offended him, or...something.

“I-I’ll get going,” you said as you set the cookies on the bench that was near the door. Unsure why you felt the need to keep speaking you gave him your name, letting it linger in the air for a moment, “I live right next door, so I guess maybe I will see you around. Yeah...well, umm...goodbye!”

But before you made it off the porch, you heard the screen door open, and swing shut. You swallowed the lump in your throat, ready to turn around and make a proper introduction when you heard your name whispered so quietly, that you thought you might have imagined it. That voice...that soft, gentle voice caused your heart to skip a few beats. You knew that voice.

Turning around slowly, you came face to face with the man that had been on your mind for weeks. You brought your eyes up to the man’s face and a small gasp of surprise left your lips.

“F-Frankie?” except this wasn’t the Frankie you’d known. No, this man was tired looking, nothing but sheer exhaustion on his face, dark circles, parched lips, no trace of facial hair, his hair flattened from what you knew was a signature hat. This was a different man, a world weary man, a man who you never intended on seeing again. But you knew that voice, you knew it so well, you’d recognize it anywhere, even after all this time. But there was something about him, how he was looking at you that broke our heart.

He remained silent as his dark eyes watched you, wondering how and why on earth you’d ended up as his neighbor. It was like some force was at play, some weird thing that kept bringing the two of you together.

He remained silent as the two of you looked at each other, his eyes quickly flicked to your left hand. You straightened up when you noticed that and got ready to walk away, unsure of how to feel in that moment. Once again, your life was thrown in a complete tailspin.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to find any words.

But before you could leave his porch, his hand went to your wrist, taking it gently in his large hand as you immediately turned around and gave him a wide eyed stare.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you looked at him in silent question, and he did the same.

This was Frankie - your Frankie. After all these years, he was still yours.

Before either of you could say anything, he gently grabbed your face and studied it for a moment before crashing his lips onto yours. It took a moment for you to react, and for a few beats before you kissed him back, not even having to think about it. But just as quickly as it had started you came to your senses and while part of you was screaming to continue to kiss him, the logical part of your brain took over and you pushed him away from you. Immediately realizing what you were doing, he let go of you and took a step back.

“Don’t,” you insisted sharply, your voice crackling on the singular word, “don’t. You don’t get to do that. I shouldn’t have done that. Not anymore. Never again.”

Before he could say anything, you dashed away from him, running back over to your house. This had to be some sort of weird dream, surely life couldn’t be throwing another challenge at you. Surely you’d been through enough.

Surely you weren’t neighbors, after all this time and years, with Frankie Morales.

Life couldn’t be that cruel...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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gay-otlc · 3 years

Text

Little Miss Perfect

Summary: Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward, straight girl

Straight hair is most beautiful. Straight A's are most successful. Straight forward is fastest. Straight girls are the most perfect. And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight. Ae doesn't get a choice.

Little miss perfect, that's me

Content warnings: Internalized homophobia, homophobia in general, cursing, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders, lmk if I should add more.

Word count: 3143

(Read on AO3)

Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight path, I don't cut corners

Biana Amberly Vacker is beautiful, and smart, but that's hardly a surprise. Even before ae was born, everyone knew ae would be beautiful, and smart. Ae's a Vacker, after all. Ae wakes up early to straighten aer hair and stays up late to study, so ae's tired all the time, but ae's gorgeous and ae's at the top of aer class, so does it really matter?

Ae takes life one day at a time, one step after another, because if ae slows down or turns around, everything ae's running away from might catch up with aer.

So ae doesn't do that. Biana keeps following the straight path and hopes the road ahead of aer doesn't wind too much. Make sure every step leads aer to perfection.

I make a point to be on time Head of the student council

Not only that, but Biana's on time for everything. Aer parents make sure of that, but ae probably would be even without their help- Biana likes to plan ahead. Or really, ae doesn't know for sure whether ae likes it, or if it makes ae feel trapped. But at least it saves aer the confusion and terror of an uncertain life. Whatever the reason, ae makes little notes in aer planner for all aer appointments.

And bigger notes in aer journal for the rest of aer life.

Make it through Foxfire.

Manifest an ability.

Get a respectable job.

Marry a respectable boy.

Have children.

Step four... doesn't seem so great, by which ae means downright nauseating, but that doesn't matter. What ae wants doesn't matter. And anyway, this will probably be what ae wants in the long run. Ae's just not old enough for boys yet. Plenty of time for that in the future.

Ae'll be on time for every step of aer perfect fucking life.

I don't black out at parties I jam to Paul McCartney

Biana doesn't break rules- mostly because ae's afraid of how aer father would punish aer. Either way, ae's never snuck out at night, never spent time with the classmates he said were beneath aer, never wore something he said showed too much skin, never ate more than ae was allowed to. Every single one of his rules, ae followed.

If that meant not going to Marella Redek's party because her mother was too "strange," even though everyone else was talking about how fun it would be, ae wouldn't go. Ae would just miss out. Fun.

Ae heard that at the parties, they played human music. What would that even sound like? Fitz knew- he got to go to the human world all the time, but Biana didn't. Still, after incessant begging, aer dad let aer listen to one song, by a human named Paul McCartney. It wasn't bad. Quite good, in comparison to elvin music. Still... ae wished ae could listen to more.

Of course, ae wouldn't. That would be disobeying aer dad. And ae didn't do that. She always had to be the perfect daughtaer.

If you ask me how I'm doing I'll say... Well, hmm

Lying wasn't good, of course. Ae shouldn't lie to people who asked how ae was doing.

But ae couldn't admit to being anything less than perfect.

So ae'd just mumble.

Perfect until proven otherwise.

I was adopted when I was two My parents spoiled me rotten

Okay, so Biana isn't actually adopted- but for years, ae thought ae had been. Always out of place in the perfect Vacker family, because everything comes so effortlessly to them, they're exactly what elvin society wants without any struggle at all. And ae... wasn't like that. Too loud, too argumentative, not quite ladylike enough. Not smart enough, ae needed to work harder. Not pretty enough.

Not interested in the right people.

But when ae learned to stay quiet, keep aer head down, and follow all the damn rules, aer parents seemed to like aer better. Well, Alden did. Della always appreciated aer, however quietly, slipping aer little pieces of mallowmelt behind Alden's back even when he told aer that ae had to be thinner. Whispering compliments into aer ears after Alden scolded aer so much his voice was hoarse from screaming and aers was hoarse from crying.

And when Alden was proud of aer, she would get everything ae wanted. All the pretty dresses. All the sparkles and sketchbooks and sewing kits. Trips to Atlantis or Eternalia. Anything ae wanted, to reward her for being Little Miss Perfect.

Often I ask myself, "What did I do?" To get as far as I've gotten

Some of the time- who the hell is ae kidding, it's most, if not all, of the time- Biana feels like... ae doesn't deserve aer last name, or aer popularity, or any of aer privileges in life. Mentors at Foxfire practically revere aer and aer peers bend over backwards to be liked by aer.

Ae is so fucking sick of it.

Why aer? Ae wants to scream the question at every single person who treats aer differently. Why is ae the one to get that treatment? Ae had never done anything important in aer whole fucking life, ae didn't do anything, and all this praise should go to someone far more perfect than aer.

A pretty girl walks by my locker My heart gives a flutter

Biana is, unfortunately, very well known at Foxfire, and ae thought ae knew everyone else too. But ae's never seen this girl before, because ae would know if they had. It would be impossible for past Biana to have seen this girl and not remember her.

She has dark skin, even darker than Biana's, and long dreadlocks pulled into a knot and streaked with blue. Biana thought ae was used to the beauty of elvin girls- they were all quite pretty- but this girl, holy shit, ae was not prepared to see this girl. Her flat nose and full pink lips and turquoise eyes are all so beautiful. Biana's heart pounds and flutters around her chest like it wants to fly out and meet this girl, and aer breath catches.

Maruca Chebota, as ae later learns, is perfection.

But I don't dare utter a word 'Cause that would be absurd behaviour For little miss perfect

The pretty girl continues walking, seemingly unaware that she's thrown Biana's world wobbling out of orbit. Biana wants to call out to her, to yell, to make sure she doesn't walk away and make it so that amazing high, those butterflies and awe and something ae can't even describe, seems almost like it never happened.

But there are a lot of people in the hallways, and they're already staring at aer far more intensely than what ae would describe as comfortable, ready to judge each and every thing she does. Running to catch up with a girl because she's pretty? Not normal. Not normal for any elf, but especially not aer.

Biana silently watches her turn around a corner into a different hallway and out of aer line of sight, wishing ae could have been a little less perfect. Just for one second.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, I can't risk falling off my throne

Dear Maruca,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been avoiding you lately. I'm sorry I can't talk to you. You haven't done anything wrong, I promise.

It's just... you're dangerous. To my heart, my... my reputation. My throne.

That's not quite true. You're not dangerous to most people. You're just dangerous to me. Maybe you're fine, and I'm just too fragile. Too imperfect.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something I don't even know

Dear Maruca,

What if we did love each other? Bravely. Boldly. Unapologetically.

What if I pretended it wouldn't topple me off my throne; or pretended I didn't care?

No. That's stupid. I shouldn't sacrifice all that for love.

This isn't even love, anyway. I don't know what love is, but you aren't it.

Straight hair, straight A's, straightforward Straight girl

Straight hair is most beautiful.

Straight A's are most successful.

Straight forward is fastest.

Straight girls are the most perfect.

Little miss perfect That's me

And if straight girls are the most perfect, and Biana is the most perfect, ae has to be straight.

Ae doesn't get a choice.

One night my friend stayed over We laughed, and drank and ordered

And straight girls would like Maruca, sure, but not in the way Biana does. Not in that all consuming, heart wrenching, feels like ae's floating and falling and spiraling all at once way. Just in a... a friend way. A normal way. Because the two of them would make perfect friends, and anything other than that would end in fiery disaster.

So Biana makes friends with Maruca. Friends. They talk about their Universe class, and play splotching together in PE (Maruca wins; Biana gets distracted by her braids), and horribly bake mallowmelt together. It burns.

Maruca is... fun. It's fun to be friends with Maruca. Ae invites her over to Everglen for a sleepover- Della is overjoyed that Biana is finally making friends- and they have a fun time. Playing games and talking about useless shit and going to go bother Fitz and his friend Keefe.

It doesn't need to be anything different, Biana tells aerself, again and again. It's perfect like this. It doesn't need to change.

Something about her drew me in What? It's totally platonic

Biana can't stop staring at Maruca.

She feels like gravity, a star, and ae feels like a planet. They work perfectly together, orbiting around and around and around. If Maruca smiles, Biana's mind races to solve the mystery of how exactly that smile would taste on aer lips. It tastes good, ae thinks, though that's a stupid thought.

"What are you thinking about?" Maruca asks. "You have this goofy smile on your face, and you didn't hear the story I just told."

Biana turns bright red. Of course, ae can't say I was thinking about your lips on mine, because that would sound... weird. Ae has to keep it platonic, because they'll never be anything other than platonic, and it's not like ae wants that either. Ae swallows, and finally says "You. I'm really glad we're friends."

Platonic friends. Perfect, platonic friends.

That night was so exciting Her smirks were so enticing

"Yeah, I'm an awesome friend," Maruca says, flicking one of her intricate braids. Biana's eyes linger on it a little too long.

Ae clears aer throat and quickly deflects the conversation, still blushing. "You are. Do you want to go downstairs? It smells like something's baking."

"I would be honored to go eat some of your mom's amazing desserts, m'laedy," says Maruca, extending a hand with mock formality. Her gorgeous lips are pulled into a smirk. Biana's breath catches; ae wants to freeze this mental image for eternity. Cautiously, ae takes Maruca's hand in aers.

Skin touching. Holding hands.

It's stupid, it's a cliche, but it does feel like sparks shoot across aer skin as Maruca wraps her fingers in Biana's and starts walking downstairs. Aer stomach flips around excitedly.

Then ae crashes and burns. They are friends. Both girls. Friends don't get this excited about holding other friends' hands. Biana rips aer hand away and stuffs it in aer pocket. Maruca looks a bit offended, but Biana clenches aer jaw and looks down.

It hurts, but ae has to be perfect. No exceptions.

Hours speed by like seconds Then, what happens is iconic

Once they get over the awkwardness of that moment, they slip right back into the fun they were having before. Della's ripplefluffs disappear quickly, and the two of them go back into Biana's room to keep talking. Biana shows Maruca aer sketches- ae hasn't really shown them to anyone before, Alden thinks a Vacker should have a more noble profession than designing fashion- and Maruca tells Biana that ae should dye aer hair.

Alden is going to kill aer, but for once, ae isn't thinking of that. Della would probably say yes, but the two of them decide it would be more fun to sneak out, so they light leap to Slurps And Burps as quietly as they can, in silent giggles the whole time. Maruca decides to re-dye the blue streaks in her hair, and Biana opts for violet. They go back to Biana's room and laugh more. Biana wildly thinks this is the most fun ae's ever had.

It's perfect, even if ae isn't.

She takes a sip, I bite my lip She tells a joke, I nearly choke

Aer stomach is sore from laughing, and ae still can't stop looking at Maruca. She's so pretty, something ae could stare at forever if ae had the chance. The longer ae looks, the more ae notices little details, like the way her braids fall against her shoulders, and how she has barely visible freckles splattered across her nose, and how her hand brushes against Biana's every so often. It's warm, and smooth, and perfect.

Maruca is a masterpiece of a person.

Currently, Biana's fascination lies in how her lips curl around the straw of her lushberry juice. It��s disgusting and wrong and so thrilling as Biana imagines kissing those lips.

No. Stop thinking about that, Biana commands aerself, biting aer own lip to draw aer attention away.

"Biana? Bi? You listening?"

Ae turns red. "Yeah, sorry!"

"Alright, so I was reading about cowboys, except I read it as cowgoys because it was really late, which implies the existence of Jewish cows. So then the thought 'Bar Moo-tzvah' came into my head and I can't stop thinking about it."

Biana snorts; the joke is funny enough on its own, but the cute little smile on Maruca's face and the way her eyes light up nearly make aer choke.

“Shut the fuck up, brain, let me be the perfect Vacker,” ae muters, too quietly for Maruca to hear.

She braids my hair, I sit there Blacking out for the first time

Maruca says Biana's newly violet hair looks beautiful- ae needs to fake a coughing fit to keep from squealing- and asks to braid it. Biana nods, and lets aerself get lost in the feeling of fingers weaving through aer hair and brushing against aer head.

Aer eyes close- ae doesn't know when, but the room around aer disappears and all ae can feel is fingers and this all encompassing, overwhelming love ae seems to be drowning in, blacking out everything else.

Next thing I know, I lose control I finally kiss her but oh no

Without making any conscious decision, Biana spins around, cups Maruca's face, and gently presses aer lips against hers. Their flat noses touch, eyelashes flutter against each other's cheeks, lips kissing. Kissing. It's fast, and sweet, and wonderful. Biana feels aer world aligning perfectly, like this is the way everything was meant to be, and there are fireworks shooting across aer skies.

Biana smiles against Maruca's lips.

I see a face in my window Then my brain starts to go

Everything happens at once.

Maruca yelps and pushes aer back. The door swings open, revealing a shocked Fitz. Fireworks vanish, as quickly as they came.

Biana's world shatters.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, you can't risk falling off your throne

Dear Maruca,

That kiss was amazing.

But it's too risky to do again.

I'm sorry.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something you don't even know

Dear Maruca,

What do I know about kissing? It's not like I have anything to compare it too, besides that one time I kissed Keefe on the cheek because I thought I was supposed to. No, because I wanted to. Because I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him and I didn't want to kiss you.

I don't know what kissing is supposed to feel like. Or what love is supposed to feel like.

It'll be better with a boy. It has to be better with a boy.

I'll know love eventually, and it won't be with you.

You shouldn't love me either.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na You can't risk falling off your throne

Dear Maruca,

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you-

No.

I hate myself.

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love You don't even know

Dear Maruca,

Or maybe I love you.

I don't know.

I probably don't.

Because I can't love another girl, right? I have to be misunderstanding what love means if I think I can love a girl.

I don't know love. But it can't be you.

Rewind, induce amnesia Deny the truth, that's easier

Fitz tells her what to do- pretend like it never happened. That's what Alden told him when he kissed Keefe. Biana snorts humorlessly at that; two fucked up Vacker children. But ae follows his advice. Forget about it. Pretend it never happened. Never address it with Maruca; or speak to her again, really. Pretend, pretend, pretend.

Ae's been pretending aer whole life.

Life continues on, and ae pretends to be okay. Maruca makes friends with Stina, and Biana makes friends with the new girl. Sophie Foster. Sophie is nice enough, but she's not Maruca. She can't replace Maruca. No one can fucking replace Maruca, and no one should have to- ae just fucked up aer only chance with someone that wonderful. But ae pretends Sophie is enough, pretends ae's not heartbroken.

Pretends, pretends, pretends.

Pretends to be perfect.

You're just confused, believe her When she says there's nothing there

Biana talks to Maruca once.

They both apologize in the same breath.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened-"

"That was weird, I'm sorry-"

"I don't like you, I was just confused."

"So was I, kissing girls was just something I thought I'd try, a bit of a phase."

"No, totally, it's not like I really like girls or anything."

"Nah, that'd be weird."

They never speak again. There's nothing between them. Biana tries to believe what Maruca told aer. Ae doesn't.

“You're just confused,” ae repeats to aerself. “You're still perfect.”

It's never worth it When you're little miss perfect

Dear Maruca,

Maybe someone else can love you. Someone who doesn't have to be little miss perfect.

#shai's writing #shai types things #kotlc #biana vacker #bianuca #fuck alden #little miss perfect

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