#yeah I don’t miss it. I’ve gotten better friends and better coping mechanisms and yeah there are still a lot of problems | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollyhomburg · 4 years

Text

Are you going to Stay?

(Fuckboy! Jungkook x Reader) (Idol au) (Soulmate Au)

Summary: It’s been a year since he last saw you, and every day he misses you more. It was only a matter of time until he turned up at your door asking for another chance.

Tags: angst with a happy ending, best friends to lovers, Themes of unhealthy coping mechanisms, sexual tension, emotional intimacy, physical intimacy, brief sexual scenes, Jungkook really loves the reader's thighs, Touch starved Jungkook, Mentions of hookups, talks of love languages, alcohol mention, Jungkook is intoxicated for most of this.

W/c: 6.4k

Song rec: Jk- Still with you

A/N: there is a lot of time jumps in this where Jungkook is thinking through his memories while drunk, so if it sounds confusing that's the point. this is really near and dear to my heart- I wrote the bulk of this in one hour after listening to jungkook’s song still with you. it is directly inspired by that song. A lot of the dialogue in this story is based on things that have been said to me or I’ve said to others- so yeah- hope you like this self-indulgent story!

“Of course I’ll never turn you away- but…do me a favor Jungkook, and don’t come back until you’ve decided what you want from me.”

One year. It’s been a little more than one year since he’s seen you and still- the last words you said to him haunt him as he walks through the rainy streets of Seoul. His fellow strangers on the sidewalk giving him a few weird looks for not having an umbrella.

He pulls up his facemask a little more, the bucket hat soaked through to his hair. The cold rain feels good against the back of his neck- the contact startling. Maybe Jungkook’s just too touch starved to make the right choices right now. Maybe its because he only wants someone to touch him if it’s you.

It didn’t always use to be that way. before he’d met you; he’d regularly needed a more sexual outlet for all his frustration, excess energy, and stress. It was healthy right? To need that? To want a connection without any strings in his line of work.

Jungkook is a truthful person, and he stays that way by only ever lying to himself.

When it rains in Seoul- it’s one of the few times that it ever feels quiet. The air pinning down the smoke and the smog, leaving space for the longing to clog up his lungs and spill out red on his tongue. Memories of you, the way you’d felt in his arms, your smile- your everything. So many months without you and Jungkook can’t help but miss you a little more with every moment that passes.

Some nights he gets restless like this and can’t help but walk and walk and hope his feet didn’t lead him to your door. Sure- at least half of the year that he hadn’t seen you had been because of the tour and the comeback schedule. But the last few months were his fault. He hadn’t had the courage to text you or pop up at your door. His stubbornness mixed with guilt, or something else entirely- a different sort of longing for someone you missed having, but had never really had in the first place.

Jungkook is great at lying to himself. That hasn’t changed in the last year.

Back then Jungkook had been too much of a coward to tell you how he felt. And so he was left out here- standing in the rain wallowing and wondering what could have been.

You’d been best friends this time last year.

You’d been his one secret hideaway from his idol life, someone to drink with and sneak onto roofs and watch the stars with. A piece of the youth that he’d never had, but more than that too- something entirely new. How many times had you said, “it’s never too late to be a kid.” and never judged him for turning up at your door and needing a hug.

Your entire relationship was some sort of reclamation for him, a better future found than the one he faced now. Going out sometimes, always worried about being spotted, never really having fun. Always looking for something better when he knew he wouldn’t find it. When he knew all he really wanted was to go back in time before he fucked it up with you.

You were his emergency contact; his someone to turn too on a bad day, or when he got too drunk at a club and couldn’t call management because he didn’t want to get in trouble. His drunken self that always wanted to see you- to drink in your laugh like a shot that made his knees weak. Your care, so freely given better than any party or hook up.

The countless times you’d taken him home to your apartment and given him a pair of soft pajamas and dealt with his drunken happy babbling about everything- always asking him about the places he’s seen and what one been his favorite. sometimes fooling him with shots of water just so that he’d get some liquid in him. his relentless pressuring for you to take a sip too- just to know the sweet truth- that your lips had touched the same spot his had.

Jungkook is a fool when he’s in love. He tells himself he would have let your friendship go on forever if it meant never losing you.

“What do you mean you don’t like New York!?” you’d asked, looking down at him with his head in your lap. Jungkook trying to resist turning over to nuzzle his head into your thighs- you’d always had such pretty thighs- the kind that look like they’d keep the memory of his fingers like memory foam if he squeezed hard enough. He wants to sleep on them. And he’s dangerously close to waking drunken poetic about them- marshmallows or clouds or just- fluffy.

He’s whiney when he answers but you don’t look bothered you only look endeared, helplessly swallowed by a wave of affection. “The buildings are too tall there and the city isn’t colorful enough- I love how Seoul just goes on and on and on, I could walk it forever if I wasn’t worried about being followed.”

He still loved how the neon lights looked in the puddles of the rain, the color bleeding everywhere with nowhere to go. The way he sees it now crossing a street in front of a makeup shop, the neon lights blinking red even though it’s closed.

But in every pink and red he can’t help but see your lips- your favorite shade of lipstick that you’d been wearing when you’d given him a key to your apartment. you were strange like him- there were some things you never liked wearing out of the house and that shade was one of them. No matter how many times he told you it looked nice, you'd always rub it off with a makeup wipe before you left.

He remembers looking down at your house key, and the little keychain with a fluffy black ball attached at the end of it, heart-shaped. “I thought you didn’t like me popping around like a stray puppy?”

You laughed at that “you’re more like a stray pure-breed from the west minster dog show that I’ve kidnapped- but you should take it anyway- I know you like to get away sometimes- and it beats having to wait for me to come home right?”

He’s got the keychain and key in his pocket now- he rarely ever takes it out of his bag. And he fiddles with it in his pocket- the softness no less soothing then it was at the beginning. He rarely ever leaves the house without it- he tells himself it’s his good luck charm but he knows it’s because he wants to fools himself. Jungkook can’t be himself unless he has a piece of you.

Maybe that's what soulmates are. People that you voluntarily give a piece of you, to keep it safe.

He’s so lost in his memories that Jungkook almost tips his shoulder into someone passing by- narrowly avoiding getting thrown into the street as a result. Is it the several shots he’s downed that make him clumsy? Or the way that thoughts of you fill his head and leave no room for things as simple as the pull of gravity. Is it the memory of you that makes him shake- or the fact that he’s had too much caffeine and hasn’t slept in days?

Someone sitting in a cafe looks up and does a double-take, but he’s already moved on by the time they’ve lifted up their phone. The best they get is a picture of his back disappearing around the corner. He wonders if they’re going to type on some message board tonight “I think I saw an idol walking around in the rain, I wonder what could be on his mind?”

He remembers your words the day after your first kiss.“Do you ever wonder if we’re soulmates that met in a different lifetime? Or that we met a lifetime too soon?”

He’d tilted his head to the side, not understanding what you meant. You’d told him you were too drunk to remember the kiss the night before. But the way you’re looking at him now it almost seems like you do- but just didn’t want to tell him. How could you be worried you’d been too forward when he was the one who had initiated it?

“Never mind Kookie- I’m so tired I’m getting philosophical, we should go home before it gets any later.”

Jungkook’s soul is certainly searching for something now, the world spins for a moment, and he loses track of where he is- the same way he’d lose track of you all those months ago. Those few miss begotten kisses like a wrong turn made on a highway- because he hadn’t been ready for something sensual, something soft and lingering like you’d been wanting.

The night that you’d gotten a little too close, your lips wet and hot and sticky with sweet drinks against each other. You crashing onto your bed with a giggle, so trashed. Jungkook helping you take your pants off because you could barely see straight, and it wasn’t sexual at all- when he paused to kiss the leading line of your knee. At least not the way that he’s used to. This is loving.

He’d kissed you up to your underwear. You squeal in surprise when he bits into your thigh a little bit. Teeth sinking into the skin he always wanted to touch and grab. Unable to stop his hands from grabbing fistfuls of your skin, so sweet and soft. You giggle when he does, his fingers hitting a sensitive spot and making your leg jerk out and almost kick him- too ticklish. “God I’ve been waiting so long to do this”

He’d uttered and whatever words you’d been about to say die in your throat. Suddenly a little less eager then you’ve been before. “Can we go slow?”

“Of course baby” Jungkook nods, and you don’t end up going any further that night, or at least any further than some heavy petting and making out. “God it’s almost 4am- we should sleep” both of your lips chapped red. and Jungkook feels like he can’t function without his lips pressed to your skin, nips at your neck, and your throat as you trail your hands up and down the back of his neck. All over. He feels and smells you all over and it’s driving him crazy.

Eventually, you wind down. Jungkook stretched out on top of you, his hips in-between your legs with only a few layers of thin fabric separating you. His ear pressed to your heart to listen to it. His body jelly finally sated to be so close to you. Your words are shy and scared in the darkness. His arousal burns low- and it’s not the most important thing- not in the slightest.

“When I wake up, are you going to still be here Jungkook?” you had to ask- because he’s told you all of his tells before. You know his m.o. even if you’ve never seen it in person. you know that he never stays the night after hookups. had looked over one too many text messages of girls calling him an asshole, begging you to tell him how to respond.

“I’ll stay,” he says, and at that moment- he swears he never felt a hit of the icky fear of being not enough. Curled up with you he’s not afraid of your relationship falling apart, you hating him, or you not wanting this. Every reason why he’d never stayed the night after hooking up before, invalid because he’s with you- someone he loves. this wasn’t just another hookup; he loves you.

“Promise you won't?”

“I promise.”

And then in the morning, when he’d woken up with a pounding head and found you curled up next to him. Horror filling him but of course- you’d been drunk too. You have a few hickeys on your neck and he checks himself in the bathroom mirror afraid for a moment before he sees that luckily- his skin is unscathed. The fear- the worry, everything crashing down on him as he watches you asleep in your bed, relaxed and peaceful.

Jungkook isn’t a relationship person- he’s never been in one that didn’t end in his heart being broken. He can’t be- his love with you wasn’t supposed to start this way- not after another drunken night. Like so many, he’s had before in the past that have ended poorly.

He doesn’t know where to go from here besides leaving. He’d even told you once “I don't think I could ever start a relationship after just- hooking up. like how do show someone the most vulnerable parts of you and then expect them to love you.”

He leaves, starts the schedule for the day feeling terrible, the others asking why he looks so upset, why he’s snappy. After practice, he checks his phone. Finding only a single text from you; ‘you promised me Jungkook’ and nothing else. And he hates it- hates everything- because he wants to love you- he really does. But maybe a part of him doesn’t know how to love safely without ruining himself in the process.

Maybe that’s all that it was, love. The whole thing falling apart if you aren’t willing to love a person in the way that they want to be loved. Or maybe it’s less premeditated than that. He thinks about love languages, about how you’re supposed to give and receive love.

Though you’d already had the right kind of intimacy. You’d need a little more time then he’d been willing to give you. You’d told him that the next time you’d seen him. And you’d spent a few weeks pretending nothing was wrong when everything felt awkward suddenly. And by the time you were ready to adjust- Jungkook had convinced himself that you didn’t mean anything to him.

The time that you said you’d been going out to meet with one of your male coworkers and wouldn’t be able to hang out that night. Jealousy stinging Jungkook’s heart like a beestings- and for the first time in months he’d gone out looking for a hookup.

The hickeys you’d seen low on his hips the next day when he’d stretches up and you’d barked out “what the fuck is that” scalding and angry. Jungkook shrugging it off like it didn’t mean anything. The words he’d said haunt him in the hours of the night when he can’t sleep and only the hum of the air conditioner can hear the words he wishes he had said. If only to save you the disappointment of thinking he was a different person than he is.

“You went out with that guy last night- so why can’t I have a little fun?”

“He’s my coworker Jungkook you can’t honestly think- oh- I get it- you were jealous.”

Jungkook spluttering, rebuking your claim with a roll of his eyes, “there isn’t anything to get jealous over. We’re not trying to be in a relationship anymore.”

“That’s not what you said last-”

“Well I changed my mind” but he hadn’t not really- he would never change his mind about you he was only being stubborn.

“What do you mean you changed your mind Jungkook- you were the one who wanted this.”

“But I didn’t expect you’d be so clingy, and we can’t always be together and I just- I have needs and you can’t fill all of them” you flinch back, and Jungkook instantly wishes he hadn’t said the words. Because they were a lie- a lie meant to hurt. If anything he was the clingy one. He just- he couldn’t let it go.

“So you fucked up a perfectly good friendship because you were just lonely? I’m not one of your hookups- we’re supposed to be friends Kookie.”

His heart dropping, “you mean we’re not that anymore?”

“I never wanted anything with you if it meant jeopardizing that” and then him- unable to stop himself from asking you. “Are we still friends?”

“of course Mookie, I think I just need some time to think…you should go Jungkook.”

The first conversation you’d ever had about it is what he remembers too. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” your snort enough of an answer as you take a swig of the bottle of Soju. His hand splayed on the towel that you’d lied down so that the roof tar didn’t stain your clothes. “of course not.”

“Even when I’m…” this makes him uncomfortable even to talk about.

“The problem you started with? People who hook up and pretend that there aren’t any feelings involved but in reality, the denying of feelings tells you enough about how they feel. You wouldn’t have to stop yourself from getting closer to people if they didn’t matter to you- and if you weren’t afraid.”

Your shoulder had been so close- he’d been able to lean his head there. He remembers how good it had felt when you’d combed your fingers through his hair. (if he likes your thighs then you like his hair). So much better than any hook up he might have had tonight. In truth- he’d been halfway to some girl's apartment when he’d called it off- and decided to go to your place instead.

Sure- you might not give him the exact kind of physical closeness that he was craving, but he loves the head pets, the way you’ll play with his hands. Like his hands are an extension of yourself, the motion so automatic like you barely realized you were doing it.

He always left your place feeling more like himself. With everyone else, it felt like he had to fight to get himself understood, had to dilute or distill his words so that they’d get it, but somehow you were always on the same page. “I wouldn’t be too worried Kookie, you’ll grow out of it eventually.”

“You sure?” he’s so relaxed- he almost feels like he’s going to fall asleep against your shoulder. He shifts a little restless, turning so he can press his body against the line of your legs. Curling into your warmth.

“Yeah, I grew out of it too.” with anyone else- that sentence would feel patronizing. But with you- it was just comforting.

How wrong he was- even now- you were all he could think about. Maybe that’s why somehow he ends up at your door. no- that’s not right- The reason why he walks to your house right now, a year after the last time he’s seen you was because he’d released that song today- the one about you and missing you.

Of course, he couldn’t stop himself from checking in on you- still knew the username to all your old accounts. Enough to go and check if you’d commented on his song- and you had- a single broken heart emoji. Whether you meant for him to find it- he didn’t know. The fact that you still checked upon him the same way he checked up on you. That was enough for him to need to start drinking.

Your door is the same as it was back then, your slides sitting on the stoop- just inside the small alcove to keep them out of the rain. Your small house tucked into a side street. One of the last few in Seoul that wasn’t a complex- because you’d wanted a yard outback. You’re home, the light from the windows spilling like honey out into the wet street. You’d said that you’d never turn him away. So Jungkook steals himself and knocks, quiet. Ready for it to go unanswered because it’s so late.

You don’t look much different either when you open the door, hair shiny and dry like you’ve just blow-dried it already in your pajamas. “Jungkook!? What are you- your shoes are soaking wet! You’re soaking wet! Come inside before you catch a cold” it’s true- he must have stepped in a few puddles on his walk here. his chunky shoes slosh when he steps into your entryway.

In a moment all of your shock and apprehension melting away. And you’re fussing over him like its only been a few days since you’ve seen him and not a year. Your hands pushing his jacket off his shoulders. His mouth dry for a moment before the words tumble out again.

“I miss you- I miss you so fucking much and it hurts. Can we talk? Please I-” your hands freeze where you’re popping his soaking jacket into your drier. Hands suddenly hovering on your counter.

Your house is just as bright and well-loved as Jungkook remembers it. Some days he lives more in those happy memories than he does in the present. The countless hours you’d spent on your couch, teaching Jungkook how to cook a little better in your kitchen. Even now- something sweet bakes in the oven, fresh bread or some other baked goods

Hours spent in your little nook in the corner taking personality quizzes on the Internet just to pass some times. The love languages quiz. “I think it's bullshit that they don’t consider food as a love language- because I love cooking for the people I love.”

and Jungkook blushing and finishing his quiz in peace, finding out that his love language was physical affection too, tied with quality time. But that didn’t matter- the only thing he could think about was your love language. You love to cook for people you love, and he’s unable to stop listing all of the times that you’d cooked for him in his head. Nearly once a week at least.

Did that mean you loved him? You hover near that spot now. The first time that Jungkook had ever truly realized you were both falling in love.

Now that he’s not in the rain you can tell that he’s crying. His eyes bloodshot and red like he’s been doing it for hours. You reach out cupping his cold cheek with your warm hand and rubbing the moisture away. Is it a tear or just some rain? You can’t tell. And Jungkook’s whole body shivers at the contact, so sweet, he can’t help but teeter, almost falling into you as he tries to lean into it.

Maybe he’s drunker than he thinks.

“I think you should shower first- you’re shaking Kookie- you need to warm up.” he nods quietly and lets you be his benevolent puppetmaster as you make him take off his pants soaking and stuck to his legs, leaving them with his shoes and jacket. Leading him to your bathroom. You tell him to leave his shirt and boxers outside so you can put them in the drier too.

You’d always been so good with this- ready to baby him and heal his woes whenever he’d come to you after a particularly bad day. Before he’d had you, he’d supplemented his usual bad habit with a hook up to sate his need to be self-destructive. A month into your friendship he’d stopped because by then he’d only needed you. You’d patched him up when he’d been feeling hurt- without him ever having to hurt himself.

Compared to you, everyone else was just a fling, But they’d started out as first loves. Women that never gave him more than a few nights and left him broken-hearted when he got too attached too quickly. He’d been hurt a few too many times by the fact that they never stayed and spent the night.

He’d convinced himself that was just how it went. Don’t get too attached, don’t get too personal and cuddle because no one wants to be that close to someone they barely know. He told himself to be satisfied with the closeness he got through sex even if he was vaguely aware that wasn’t what he really needed or wanted.

And then one day he’d gotten up and realized that he was the one breaking their hearts- all because he didn’t want to get close to anyone anymore. Not in the way that meant being truly intimate. That was too much of a risk for his fragile heart.

True intimacy was the kind he’d had with you. You’d never needed to sleep together to cuddle him no- Jungkook just had to turn up at your door and you’d be ready to give him all of the physical contact he needs. Enough to stop feeling like he was about to jump out of his skin.

That was what the love language quiz had told you what your love language way- physical affection, a love that Jungkook was always eager to receive.

The shower is warm and exactly what he needs. He walks out of it smelling like you; his heart hurting in such a keen way- everything in your bathroom familiar and new. The times you’d let him shower here, once after getting caught out in the rain with you (a literal downpour, eventually you’d gotten too soaked and just settled for being goofy, sloshing in puddles in the park, spinning around underneath a lit lamp singing a bad rendition of singing in the rain, spilling your bottle of soju with little regard for who might think it propper.)

A whole day he’d spent kneeling on this tiled floor after one bad night, holding back your hair when you were puking. Jungkook berating himself for his choices because He’d taken you to a bad club in Gangnam, and you were worried someone had tried to slip something into your drink- no other reason why you’d be puking like this.

He’d apologized profusely, got you chocolate-covered strawberries as a thank you. Not knowing that you where allergic. “why the fuck did you eat them if this was going to happen” you were whiney, cheeks all puffy and red- lips a little swollen too. Gesturing for Jungkook to hand you the ice pack already, the itchiness getting to you.

“Cuz they looked really good and you were being sweet.” He slaps your hands away and holds the icepack to your cheek, moving it around every few seconds. Your eyes fluttering in relife. You’d spent the afternoon like that- Jungkook holding the icepack to your cheek watching a drama on your couch. it was the least he could do- after maybe inadvertently getting you drugged and giving you an allergic reaction.

And still- next week you’d responded to his texts. He’d been ready for you to leave him after that, but no- you still called him your friend.

While he takes a shower you put his clothes in the drier. Your heart humming because- he’s back. He’s actually come back. You never really expected him to stay away for so long- not more than a week at least. But then you’d heard the news of the tour and just assumed he couldn't. And you think through all the text messages you'd almost sent him asking for him to meet up for dinner or something but in the end. you’d been too worried that he would turn you down- that he really didn't care anymore.

Your hands feel something in the pocket of his pants. you still - pulling it out not really believing it- but it’s your key. The key you’d given him hoping he would stay in your life. and seeing it- knowing he’s kept it with him all this time. you grip the edge of the counter, trying not to cry.

When he gets out of your shower he finds an old set of his own pajamas there- probably left here at one point or another. He brings them up to his nose to inhale a deep breath, and they smell like you too. The simple joggers and black shirt- you must have worn them. Did you curl up in them on the nights that you missed him most? Did you even miss him? You’d never said it back at the door.

When Jungkook pads out into the living room, you’re sitting on the couch- head in your hands, a towel in yours, you jolt up when you see him. And your expression is unreadable as you gesture for him to sit in front of you. “I’m going to dry your hair”

The clearly communicated intent makes Jungkook’s whole body tingle, his touch starved ness already making a reappearance- always wanting more and more. He sits, tipping his head forward so you have access to all of his hair, his eyes on the couch, and your crossed legs. They aren’t as plush as they once looked. In the past year, you’ve lost a little weight and he wonders if that’s because of him.

His whole body shaking as you bring the towel up and through his hair, drying it this way and that. Eventually leaning his cheek against your clothed thigh, before he jolts up. Catching himself with an arm out behind you. He looks up, and your breath hitches when you see his arms, the way they’ve grown over the past year.

He knows he’s put on muscle since the last time you’ve seen him and it makes the tiniest bit of pride well up in his chest to know he’s impressed you. It only lasts for a moment before you keep drying his hair looking down at your hands a sour feeling rising up in both of you. Like you’re both suddenly realizing how much you’ve changed in the last year.

Your bodies might be strangers- but your souls aren’t. Even after all this time, not a single silence is awkward.

“Don’t want you to get a cold,” you say softly, and Jungkook only makes a small noise to let you know the message is received. He’s happy to be on the receiving end of your affection. After so long without any intimate contact, he needs it like he needs air. You continue in silence for a moment before Jungkook lists forward so hard that his head ends up pressed to your collarbone, his forehead warm against your skin. You don’t flinch back.

“Why are you being so kind to me? The last time I was here- I wasn’t- I never treated you well” his voice is broken and wavering. The darkness of the cloth concealing the fact that he’s crying again, but you can feel his tears against your skin anyway.

“I’ll always patch you up Kookie. And you did treat me well, maybe not the way I wanted to be treated- but you never treated me terribly.” That’s a little debatable, but Jungkook isn’t about to convince you not to forgive him for being an asshole.

“Will there ever be a way to go back?” it’s the one thing he’d been unable to stop himself from wondering- if there was a way to repair what you’d had. And he dreads the answer now almost more than not knowing. You bite your lip, folding your hands over your chest, leaving the towel hanging over Jungkook’s head like some kind of veil. Facing each other cross-legged on your old couch while the rain patters on outside.

“I never hated you Kookie- you’re still my best friend. Maybe we fight, and yeah it’s been a while. But at the end of the day, your soul still fits mine.”

He gulps audibly, hands reaching out to touch yours, you marvel for a second, eyes tracking over his new tattoos. He hadn’t had those the last time you’d seen them- you’d seen them on the Internet, of course, it was hard not to check up on him.

“Do you remember what you said to me in that cafe that day?” his voice is low, as thick as the color that bleeds onto the wet asphalt outside. While in here you’re in a bubble cozy and safe. Out of time and out of place.

Your eyes are heavy-lidded, as he gets more brazen with his touches, fingers rubbing up and down your forearms. You make noise in agreement. “Soulmates that met too early.” your eyelashes flutter against your cheek- it is late- and you look as tired as Jungkook should feel where it not for the caffeine in his system- but the shower did a good job of calming him down.

His words feel thick as he swallows, “what if that lifetime is now?” your eyes shoot open. And you’re about to say something when Jungkook jumps in. “I miss you. I miss you so bad that I think it breaks my heart sometimes.”

“Jungkook” it's just his name, but the way it sounds on your mouth- Jungkook would follow that call anywhere. He slumps forward, leaning his head against your shoulder, and you smell so good. He can’t help but turn his head to nuzzle into your neck; you don’t stop him- you don’t even flinch in fact.

You relax more- like you were waiting for him to lean into you. Hands coming up to encircle his shoulders and pull him in for a hug. “You missed me- but what do you want me to do?”

“Say you miss me too- say it's not too late. Say we have a chance.” your hands are gentle as they come up to run through his still-damp hair, “say it’s another lifetime and we can be soulmates again.”

“Are you going to stay?” you ask instead. You realize your miss-step, Jungkook sits up and you wish he didn’t so he wouldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. “stay the night I mean-” you swallow, “do you want to sleep here?”

“Yes” he flicks his hair out of his face, “if that’s okay?” both of you pretend that you mean only tonight. Even though you know- you both know what you meant.

His hair is drying curler and longer now. “You’re drunk Kookie- you should sleep. We can talk properly in the morning.”

Jungkook knows you’re probably just saying that because you want a little more time- but that’s okay. In the past year, he’s learned to be patient. And if you need the night to think it over- if you need the whole week or month. He’ll give it. “Okay,” he says, tilting his face up to look at you smiling.

“I’m not making any promises Jungkook- we have a lot to work through to get back to how we were”

“I know,” he says, but still can’t stop smiling, letting out a watery little giggle, and damn his cute doe eyes and his easy smile- because you can’t help but think he’s the cutest thing. This boy that looks hard on the outside but isn’t anything more than the squishiest romantic when you get to know him, who turned up at your door and told you everything you’d been hoping for the second he’d walked out your door.

“I can wait as long as you need to wait, I’ll be okay as long as we just talk again. I missed you so so much” he’s definitely drunk; maybe it just took a little while for the shots to hit him.

You get him a blanket and a pillow and he sleeps on the couch and he might let his lips brush along the outside of your when you reach down to run your fingers through his hair again but you don’t pull away. A look on your face like it pains you to leave him on the couch. But those little acts of love were never out of place back when you used to talk every day. And you can’t bring it to yourself to scold him for such a blatant act of intimacy when it makes your heart flutter.

There had been a few times near the end. when Jungkook had let himself in with your key and crawled into bed with you. And you’d always woken up before him, had breakfast and something planned for the day- someplace you wanted to explore and Jungkook ready to company you anywhere and everywhere.

He waits and watches the light underneath your door until it winks out and you go to sleep too. And he might wake in the middle of the night thinking bout crawling into bed with you but he knows enough to give you your space. His heart brimming with the possibility of more- more everything.

It’s worth it in the morning. Jungkook dreams about the love languages. Your words again ‘preparing food should be considered a love language.’ when he wakes in the morning the rain has stopped. Your porch doors open to your small back yard to let in the city sounds. The mist clearing over the rooftops, the smell of rain on the wet earth musky and sweet, quiet, and relaxing.

He smells eggs and French Toast, hears your soft humming in the kitchen. It’s Your love language to cook for those you love. And he knows somehow that you still love him when he hears the oil frying in the pan, the smell of cinnamon and sugar there too. everything sweet and nothing hurting.

A single tear drifts down his cheek. And he’s unable to stop smiling, even if he is half-asleep, unable to open his eyes even. He falls back asleep and wakes to the feeling of your fingers running through his hair.

There will be other times, when Jungkook can hop up from your bed and join you in the morning, back hugging you and peppering little kisses along your shoulder. Hands slipping under the edge of your shirt to squeeze at the ticklish spot on your hips. Or the small kisses he’ll press to your sleeping cheek when he has to leave early in the morning. Or the mornings when he’ll wake to you still in his arms kissing down his chest.

Countless mornings, days into the future when things will be easier. And even if they're not easy, Jungkook knows trying with you is worth it. Now that he’s lived without you- he will do anything to stay by your side. For Now, he’s happy to sleep off his hangover dimly aware of the sound of you moving around your house.

For a second, it almost feels like you’ve bent down, the warmth spilling across his face, the faint brush of your lips on his cheek. He tells himself it’s just a dream.

Jungkook is good at lying to himself.

Kofi

(if you want to find out your love language; here is a simple quiz to find out!)

#jungook x reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jk #jk x reader #jjk #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort #bts smut #bts fluff fic #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys

2K notes · View notes

sysmedsaresexist · 3 years

Note

(Thank you)

1. Can you be a system with absolutely no idea what caused you to split? Or to not be aware of your trama at all?

I’ve only very recently come to terms with the fact that I have trauma and haven’t done any work on it yet. I don’t have an event I can point to and go “this traumatized me.”

2. What does it feel like to have an alter front?

3. Are systems usually aware they’re a system before they’re diagnosed?

4. Do alters always know what they look like beforehand? Previously I thought alters knew everything about themselves but one of the answers I got mentioned hosts sometimes helping to figure out names.

I'm curious what kind of answers you've gotten to these so far that made you seek us out, of all people, lol

1. Can you be a system with absolutely no idea what caused you to split? Or to not be aware of your trama at all?

Absolutely, both of these scenarios are not only possible, but completely normal. We're going to switch these around and talk about them in the opposite order, starting with, "not aware of trauma at all". The purpose of a system is to hide trauma. When you're young and going through traumatic situations, and you dissociate, what usually happens is one of two things. Either the child mentally goes away (dissociates, imagining being in a different situation, ignoring what's happening to them in the moment), or they imagine actually being someone else ("this isn't happening to me, it's happening to someone else, I'm (fuck it, uh) Zoro, and I, Zoro, can handle this"). Both of these scenarios lay the groundwork for the creation of a system, and both cases lead to the loss of memory of traumatic events when a child experiences that extreme level of dissociation over prolonged periods.

What this means is, there is no one event that creates a system. It's event, after event, after event, until the child can no longer form a cohesive sense of self. They've become too reliant on dissociation as a coping mechanism, these dissociated parts have taken on a life of their own, and a child's identity has become so fractured and they're so confused that they can't tell who or what they are, and the memories of why are scattered between these parts.

It's not as easy as pointing to an event and saying, "That was it. That was what happened, that's what did this to me-- to us."

This sort of plays in to the next point of, "why did a specific alter split." And this can apply to childhood, later, hell, today, ten years ago, fifteen years from now. It's not always as easy as pointing to a specific event for each alter, either. Some alters take months and years after an event to come forward and make themselves known. This can make pinning down their "origin" almost impossible. What made them could have happened a long time ago. Sometimes it's not a specific event, but a combination of several events, just like in childhood. Are your parents always fighting? Maybe, by the tenth time they're blowing up at each other and you're curled up in your room trying to ignore it, a part finally splits to help you handle that stress. It wasn't specifically the tenth fight-- it was the combination of ALL of the fights.

2. What does it feel like to have an alter front?

This depends. I'm old. I've experienced a lot of different feelings when someone else fronts. When I was kid, it sometimes felt like I was asleep. No memories of it, just blissful darkness, no real time loss, things would go dark for what felt like ten minutes, and then I'd be back, several hours later, barely even realizing I had missed an entire day. I also had pretty bad maladaptive daydreaming, and sometimes I would go into my daydreams while another alter took over. I just thought this was normal. I was just REALLY good at multi-tasking, you know?

When I got older, and I learned more about what was happening, sometimes it would feel like a battle to the death-- two of us fighting desperately for front. Sometimes it honestly felt like a punch to the head-- a knock out when I lost, unpleasant darkness, fear, anxiety, what was I going to come back to? Other times, when I won, I was left with a massive headache and exhausted. Sometimes I welcomed the break, and over time, it became easier. It became like watching things happen through a foggy window. Sometimes I wanted to do something, and I couldn't, and sometimes I felt helpless and lost. As communication got better, I could see more clearly, I could ask for things to happen, I could occasionally... steal a moment, use a hand, set something straight on the counter that was bothering me.

When an alter fronts, it can feel like a lot of things, depending on the situation, depending on communication levels. There's no "one way" or "right way".

3. Are systems usually aware they’re a system before they’re diagnosed?

I would say, in the age of the internet, it's more likely than not that someone is aware they're potentially a system, than it is for them to be completely unaware at the time of diagnosis. Before the internet, before you could just google symptoms, a lot of people weren't aware prior to diagnosis. Even these days, it's not unheard of for someone to only find out around the time of diagnosis, because you don't always realize you're losing time, or have amnesia. Your alters aren't always so completely different that the people around you notice and point it out. The entire point of this disorder is for it to be unnoticeable. It really just depends on the person, their exposure to information about the disorders, and how bad their dissociation is. Some know, some don't. Some go seeking therapy for help with other issues and eventually it just comes out over time that you have something else going on. Sometimes you suspect, and you go to therapy specifically for it. It's different for everyone.

Not at all. It's actually really common for alters to be... essentially blank slates in the beginning. Let's look at the example above, of the child dissociating out of a bad situation. If they're going away into their daydreams, the body is essentially left unattended. Any alter that forms in that moment could considered to be "blank" at the start. In the other scenario, you know who Zoro is, what they look like, what they like and dislike, what their history is. It doesn't even need to be a character you know of, maybe you, like me, had MaDD, and you'd become one of your characters, your OCs. I had one.

She was strong and had superpowers and was beautiful and confident-- and that was one of my first alters. I imagined being her often enough that I could eventually take the other route, disappear into my mind while she handled it herself (this was totally normal multi-tasking, apparently). She knew who and what she was right off the bat. What she looked like, her history, her personality. In the first scenario, that alter may or may not come up with that information on their own. They may remain blank until communication is good, and then they might start to grow, maybe you do help them find a name, maybe they find it years later on their own. Again, there's no "one way". It depends on the circumstances.

You sent a second ask with some more questions, and I think this leads into the next one.

Is it normal for an alter to feel more comfortable in the body than the original host?

Like, you look in a mirror and you think “yeah this is [alter name]” Not really as a negative or positive feeling, just a neutral and true one. Being trans (or mistaking the presence of a different gender alter [the alter in question] for it?) might also effect this.

This can happen, yes! In the case of my OC/alter, of course she looked like me. She was everything I wanted to be when I was a child. She can look in the mirror and say, yup, definitely me. This is what I've always looked like, and I'm perfection.

I have another alter that just... isn't bothered by appearance. He looks in the mirror and it's like, "yup, I guess so, cool -finger guns-"

There's a lot of reasons some alters might be more comfortable in the body than others, and they're all totally normal.

And finally. The last question:

What is a tupla?

This is, surprisingly, a very loaded question.

First, right off the bat, the use of the term tulpa is cultural appropriation. I don't claim to be an expert, but to put it simply. The actual practice of tulpamancy is nothing, NOTHING, like what it's being used for in system circles. Here's a really, REALLY good post on how it's been twisted from the original practice and westernized.

The more accepted terms in system circles are willogenic, parogenic, and thoughtforms. These are "headmates" that are intentionally created. They're imaginary friends brought to life through meditation and practice. Some systems claim to be DID/OSDD and say they've intentionally created some alters, making them "mixed origin" (it's more likely that someone has convinced themselves that it was intentional and their choice in an attempt to feel a sense of control over their situation). Some endogenic systems claim to have intentionally created their entire system (which, because on the levels of dissociation needed to create alters, I don't believe is possible without a traumatic origin).

I hope this all helps, I hope it all made sense, if you have more questions, let me know!

23 notes · View notes

misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

Text

Closets & Wendy’s.

“Last day of Pride!”

Dean projects himself onto Cas’s bed, ending up sprawled on his front, with an arm slung over Cas’s lap.

On receiving no more greeting than Cas’s hand landing in his hair and starting to card through it, he lifts his face from the comforter, props himself up on his elbows - chin tucked in a palm - and stares at his boyfriend.

Cas looks upset.

The corners of his lips tilt passively downwards, eyebrows carrying most of the weight of his frown.

“Cas?” Dean asks, neutrally - already regretting his overhyped entrance.

“I’m sorry- I don't feel -”

Words fade out, and Cas pauses. Then he turns to actually look at Dean, the sadness seeped into his eyes, and Dean doesn’t waste a moment getting up, knee-waddling over into Cas’s space and pulling him close.

Cas comes easily, planting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and exhaling a tired breath when Dean runs a hand over his back.

“What are you feeling?” Dean asks, after a beat, now trying to soothe Cas’s tense shoulders, rubbing gently over the cotton. Cas leans into his touch.

About three years of therapy, and nearly six years of being roommates - undergrads, and then actual friggin’ grad school - with Cas, basically Dean’s personal mascot for healthy communication, has led him to definitely know that it’s always a better alternative to talk about what you are going through, instead of what you aren’t.

(Or, you know, what you think you should be, just because your dumb, insensitive boyfriend who’s been obsessed with Pride since finally coming out and-slash-or best-friending up with Charlie Bradbury, is. And rather loudly, at that, because Dean Winchester’s a goddamn idiot.)

“Disappointment.” Cas says, morosely, but almost as soon as he hears his own words, he rephrases. “Uh. I’m the disappointment.”

“Well, did you secretly sneak out and mark yourself absent for the entire semester in all your 4.0 GPA classes when I wasn’t looking?”

“Dean.”

“Fine, 3.7.” Dean throws back. “Big friggin’ deal, nerd.” Cas lets out a huff of breath which almost resembles a chuckle, and Dean squeezes his arm around Cas. “You know that would’ve totally been a four if I’d been less distracting.”

“Interesting.” Cas corrects.

“Hot.” Dean throws back, just because he knows it’ll make Cas crinkle into one of his fond ‘what-do-I-do-with-you’ smiles. It does.

“Perfect.” And Cas throws in a sigh, as if to solidify his point, and leans in to nuzzle Dean’s neck in a way so intensely Cas, that if anyone else had ever tried it, he’d either end up being tickled to death, or running the hell out of dodge.

“We’re on you right now, Cheesy McCheesington.” Dean smiles back, and goes on.

He’s not willing to let Cas close up into a ball of repressed emotions with happy only on the outside. That’s way more Dean’s thing - or rather, used to be. He knows he’s bettered his coping mechanisms. Mostly because every part of his life involves Cas now, and anything with Cas is good.

They’ve grown a lot together - grown through a lot as well, and this is how they’ve done it. By talking through, the Castiel way. It still throws Dean off sometimes, how far they’ve gotten.

So when Cas whines in protest into Dean’s shirt, he knows exactly how to turn it into a side-hug. One of those, where they end up staring at each other from a three-inch distance.

Staring hard, Dean says it. “You’re the farthest thing from a disappointment, Cas. To anyone.”

The lecturers all adored him, their friends made it a point to keep proclaiming their affection out loud (thank god for Charlie Bradbury and co.), and Dean doesn’t think he could be more proud of Cas if he tried.

He was a goddamn wonder.

He’d gone from a lanky, private-schooled, what’s-a-Star-War schmuck to one of Dean’s favorite people in the world. He was hilarious, and a genius, and kind. He’d grown into his shoulders, and into a stubbly kind of an age, and into this awesome, intelligent, pancake-making man of Dean’s dreams, and into his bee obsessions and organizational neatness - and complete, total perfection.

(Dean needs him, appreciates him, and (not that subtly - to his credit), loves him in a forever sort of way.)

But before Dean’s properly began to remind Cas of any of it, he’s interrupted.

“I’m disappointing me, Dean.”

There’s resignation in his tone, and evidence in every word he says.

“June’s over. Again. And for all the marching with painted cheeks and the megaphones? For all the parades, and the celebrations of our identities, the togetherness, the being proud of being ourselves?” Cas lets out, bitterly, and Dean realizes he knows where Cas is going with this. “And I still haven’t come out to my family.”

Dean waits, sure that Cas isn’t finished.

“How have I not done it yet?” Cas hisses, and it almost startles him - he’s swapped the upset for angry. It’s rarer. “I’ve known since I was a teenager - and we’ll have been together for five years in three months, Dean, and I just - I cannot believe I still can’t do it.”

He sounds helpless, and Dean wants to jump in, but he needs Cas to get the words out first.

“What’s the matter with me? Am I not brave enough, or strong enough - or am I still hanging onto the hope that they’ll suddenly become better human beings and not disown me when I tell them?” Cas scoffs.

He’s pissed at himself.

“Maybe I still lack, as you say, free will.”

Dean has to step in at that. “That was six years ago, and you know I wouldn’t say it now.”

“Why not?” Cas challenges. “I couldn’t tell them then, either. I clearly haven’t changed.”

“Other things, Cas.” Dean says, and grits his teeth. This isn’t supposed to be them yelling. Cas is frustrated, and Dean’s listening - he can’t be frustrated back at him for the way he expresses it. “Other things have changed.”

Cas gives him a look, but Dean holds his end of it until it crumbles. Cas changes his offense. Mellows down - probably when he sees Dean’s restraint. “This is important to me. I want to do it. Then why can’t I tell them?”

He’s asking himself, but he’s also asking the only person who knows him as well as he knows himself, yet he’s also not asking at all - simultaneously, it’s also rhetorical.

Dean licks his lips.

“Whatever be the answer to that, Cas, first things first. This doesn’t imply you’re not proud enough.”

Cas looks away.

“Or, for that matter, not panromantic or demisexual enough.”

Sigh. Shuffle, shift. And then he looks back up at Dean. The tears weren’t there before. “How do you know, Dean?”

“‘Cause I know this doesn’t decide that.”

“Why not?” Cas says, quietly.

“‘Cause,” He repeats. “How queer you are isn’t measured on a scale of how soon you come out once you know.” He pauses, judges the air. “It usually isn’t measured at all, unless we’re talking about a magical thing known as the Kinsey Scale.”

He judged right.

Cas coughs, and it’s definitely to disguise a reluctant snicker.

“And you know, even if it were measured on the weird first thing,” Dean adds, serious again. “There’d totally be a different clause, and a separate key, mind you, for the people with douchebag families.”

“They prefer conservative, I think.” Cas says, smally, after an entire minute, as if he’d actually been rerunning Dean’s speech in his head for that long.

Dean shrugs.

Cas almost smiles. He’s calmed down.

“The strange thing is that it makes no sense.” He begins, heavy, albeit less severe on himself. “I’m twenty six. We co-own this apartment, and we pay our bills. We’re completely independent.” It never stops sounding surreal. That’s for another time. “Mother calls me on third Sundays, Gabriel sends Christmas cards. Other than that, I only spend Thanksgiving lunches with them, each year more horrible than the last. I know I wouldn’t miss any of them, nor regret being written out of the will. Or have my Novak cemetery spot passed onto Michael’s oldest. Or the gardener.”

Dean snorts at that. The Novaks are truly something else.

“There is no reason I can’t just come out. I just -” Cas cuts into his own sentence with a sigh, one signifying that he’s finally done speaking, and he reclaims Dean’s shoulder once more.

What’s important right now, is to make him feel better. A resolution to this isn’t within grasp at the moment, and Cas sounds drained. Dean - well, he does what he does best. He segues.

“Wait.” Cas lifts his head. “You didn’t actually say you’re not out, did you?”

Cas squints at him.

“Dude. Being out doesn’t just mean telling your family. And getting subjected to toxicity and trauma, by means of it.” Dean points out, earnest. By that logic, courtesy of a long-dead mom, and a relatively-shorter-dead dad, he’s in the closet as well. “Hell, you put your hand in my back pocket at KFC, yesterday.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks.

Dean grins, and Cas’s surprise makes it easy to do so. “You bet my publicly grabbed ass, it counts.”

Cas knows it counts. He knows everything that counts. But he indulges himself, and he indulges Dean - his bad mood slowly dissipating. “What else?”

“You kissed me at Wendy’s last week.” Dean informs him, eyebrows raised. “Held my hand for a really long time in a Starbucks queue on Saturday. Oh, and all the gay bars count, buddy. Especially the bits where we grind on the dance floor, and then I blow you in the stall.”

Cas opens his mouth to protest that has only happened once, but Dean meets his eyes with a pointed look. He’s got to bring it up.

“Every time I’ve ever taken you to a steak joint counts too. ‘Cause trust me, those are always dates, whether you know it or not.”

“Long drives are a date to you.” Cas deadpans.

“Yeah, and Baby will never say you’re not out.” Dean throws back, and Cas actually makes it to a smile this time. Dean’s left feeling accomplished. (And sort of dazed, because it’s going to take a lot more than six years for him to get used to Cas being so easily beautiful, and being it right next to him.)

“You said you loved me for the first time at the Roadhouse.” Cas says.

Dean blushes.

“And then you ran away before I could react, got really drunk and karaoke’d I’m Too Sexy on the stage, and passed out on my lap right as I tried to say it back to you.”

This is definitely not his favorite story, but it always lights Cas up, and that’s all that matters, really - so he rolls his eyes half-heartedly and Cas smiles wider.

Silence prevails for a moment.

“Look.” Dean ends up being the one to break it. Cas listens, hanging onto each word. “You’re the only one who knows why you can’t do it, okay? My best guess would be an internalized decision to avoid conflict. Maybe you call your old therapist tomorrow - like, I dunno, a cameo from Castiel, unresolved coming-out issues sorta thing. Of course, we can talk about it too. Get six cheeseburgers and twelve beers, and figure things out on your own. But it’s up to you.” Cas exhales into a little smile. “All I know is, it doesn’t matter to anyone that you haven’t told your family, if it doesn’t matter to you.

Cas nods, a couple of times, and there’s the barest hint of tears again, but this time doesn’t make Dean want to punch God.

It makes him want to hug Cas, so he goes for it.

“Even if you were in the closet, Cas? I’d say the same.” Dean adds, as an afterthought, about a minute into a hug which doesn’t seem to be nearing an end. Not really. No one minds, so there’s that. “This community, this month - everything about Pride is about all of us, and if Charlie’s ever called me handmaiden, trust me she’s said this a million times. It means everyone. Includes people in the closet, every bit as those who’re out.”

Cas hums in agreement, and tilts his head against Dean’s.

“In any case,” Dean teases. “Your family’s over in Illinois, anyways. Here, where it counts? You’re as out as you can be.”

“I could kiss you in more Wendy’s.” Cas contemplates, because he’s awesome like that.

“What has Burger King ever done to you?”

Dean listens to him considering it with a thoughtful note, and mutters a “Dork.” It helps keep him grounded for he feels like he’s floating right now - ‘cause there’s something about the way Cas holds onto him. Tighter.

Like somehow, even after all this time, they managed to fall a little more in love today.

And somehow, they’ll keep doing it forever.

537 notes · View notes

northlight14 · 3 years

Text

Breakup’s, birthdays and drag shows

Description: Roman and Janus broke up and now Roman can't celebrate his birthday with him. Now it's Virgil's job as his best friend to cheer him up.

TW: breakup mention, crying, cursing, Janus isn't intended to be unsympathetic but since Virgil doesn't like him it might come across that way, alcohol mention, brief violence mention, let me know if I need to add anything else

Ships: platonic prinxiety, past roceit

Genre: hurt/comfort

Prompt: alt prompt 4, drag (prompt by @pridewrite2021)

Virgil was browsing the card isle looking for a birthday card for Roman when his phone started to buzz. He pulled it out to see it was Remus calling him.

"Ugh, what is it Remus?" Virgil said, already not interested in whatever Remus had gotten himself into.

"Hey Virgin! Can you come over?" Remus chirped.

"I'll be coming over later to drop off Roman's card. Why, what's up?"

"Well, you know how Roman and Janus broke up last week?" How could Virgil forget? Roman had spent the entire week being an absolute wreck and Patton and Logan had to hold Virgil back in order to stop him beating Janus up.

"Yes." Virgil gritted out through his teeth.

"Well, Roman just realized that he isn't gonna be able to celebrate with him and that this is gonna be his first birthday without him in 3 years and what not. So now he's crying in his room, lookin' like a hot mess. And since he's your best friend and all I was wondering if you could come and cheer him up or whatever."

"What! How the hell am I supposed to do that?!" Virgil yelled, before realizing he's still standing in the middle of the card isle, hiding his face which was now scarlet.

"I don't know man but you'll come up with something! You're like a brother to him, Virgie!"

"You actually are his brother, Rem!"

"Come on Virgil, please!" Remus pleaded through the phone. "I just...I really don't know what to do, here." He said, voice suddenly going quiet.

Virgil sighed. "Ok, I'll be ten minutes."

———

Virgil always forgot how big Roman's house was. The drive way alone seemed to go on for ages, outlined by large trees and red rose bushes. The pathway to the door was a red brick and clearly well taken care of. The house itself was a faded red brick with large windows and balconies. The front door was too tall and painted black, standing in the middle of two white pillars.

Looking at where Roman lived, it was easy to see why Virgil had disliked him at first. When they'd first met, Roman had a much bigger problem with his bratty rich kid attitude and with his life seemingly perfect from an outsiders point of view it was easy to see why they clashed. after all, Virgil had absent parents and had to work several jobs to help pay bills. But as he got to know Remus better it made it much easier to see through Roman as well. Mr and Mrs Prince were nice enough but they had a bad habit of pitting Roman and Remus against each other, both with academics and creative pursuits. It turned out Roman's arrogant attitude was a coping mechanism for his surprisingly low self esteem. It also turned out that Roman wasn't just "lazy" when it came to school work like Virgil had first thought, but he was actually struggling with ADHD. The more Virgil learned about Roman and the more Roman learned about Virgil, the closer they became until they began to see each other as brothers. Brothers that would make fun of each other relentlessly but brothers non the less.

Virgil knocked on the large door and waited for a response. Not too long after, Mrs Prince answered. She was a tall and slender woman with tanned skin. Her dark hair was tied perfectly in a bun. She wore a black dress with a red shall, both of which looked as expensive as Virgil's car.

"Oh, hello Virgil. I assume you're here for Roman? Remus said you were coming." She said.

"Uh, yeah. Can I come in?"

"Of coarse, Roman should be in his room. He hasn't come out since this morning." She said, stepping aside to let Virgil in.

'Oh God.' Virgil thought to himself before heading upstairs and hoping he would finally be able to remember which room is Romans.

In the end Remus came out his room and pointed Virgil in the right direction but hey, no one else needed to know that.

Gently, Virgil knocked on Romans door and waited to be let in.

"Remus, I told you to go away!" Roman yelled from inside, his voice sounding muffled.

"Hey Roman, it's Virgil. Can I come in?"

There was a brief moments pause before Virgil heard a quiet voice he decided to interoperate as Roman inviting him in.

Virgil was very taken aback by the sight before him. The room, which was usually kept as neat as possible, was covered in tissues, chocolate wrappers and a mix of opened and unopened presents. Roman was sat on his bed, eyes puffy and hair messy.

"Um, hey, are you alright?" 'Fuck sake Virgil, obviously he isn't.' Roman sniffled, smiling despite himself. "Yeah, I just...I miss him, ya know?"

"Yeah." Virgil said, sitting beside him. "Oh, um, I got you this..." Virgil awkwardly passed him the card.

Roman smiled, accepting it. "Thanks."

"So...what do you want to do? For your birthday, I mean." Virgil said, trying and failing to hide his discomfort.

"I don't know..." Roman sighed, looking down at his hands. "I was just going to continue to watch Carmen Santiago. But I always watched that with Janus. It was our show, ya know? He'd always make a comment about how she's still stealing and I'd counter it with how she's stealing from thieves so surely that makes it ok! I don't know, it just...it feels wrong to watch it without him..." Roman laughed sadly. "Which sucks because the last episode left on a cliff hanger and I really wanna know what happens next." He laughed a little at his own expense.

Virgil couldn't help but smirk. "Well, why don't we go out somewhere?"

Roman looked down again. "I don't know..."

'Crap. What the heck am I supposed to do here?!'

Virgil looked around awkwardly. He then spied in the corner what looked like a new makeup pallet. Roman must have gotten it for his birthday. 'Bingo.'

"Hey, why don't we do each other's makeup?" Virgil offered.

Romans face immediately lit up. "Really?!" He said, excitedly.

"Yeah, why not?" Virgil said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Well last time I asked to do your makeup, you said you'd rather stab yourself in the eye with your eye liner."

"Yeah, well..." Virgil coughed. "Consider it my birthday present to you."

Roman immediately shot up and grabbed the eyeshadow pallet and several brushes. "I promise you won't regret this!" Yeah, Virgil was already regretting this but Roman seemed happy and that's all that mattered.

———

The brushes tickled Virgil's face as Roman layered the purple eye shadow. Virgil almost started to object as Roman began to apply silver jewels at the edges of the eye shadow, before stopping himself. Roman then finished the look by applying a purplish pink lipstick and brushing Virgil's bangs out of his face. He then handed Virgil a mirror. The look was very 80's glam, far from Virgil's usual style but he had to admit, it looked really good. The eyeshadow looked sharp, the upper lid being a lighter shade than the under eye and corners of the eyes.

"It looks great!" Virgil said, admiring it. Roman smiled proudly from the compliment. "Alright." Virgil said, taking the eye shadow pallet. "Your turn."

Roman laughed. "I appreciate the offer, rainy day real estate, but I don't really wanna look like I haven't slept in a hundred years." Roman teased.

"Says the guy who's went entire weeks not sleeping because he was binge watching a new show!" Virgil teased back.

"And I'll have you know I wear that like a badge of honor!"

"Besides," Virgil continued to laugh. "I know how to do other makeup looks."

"Ok..." Roman said. "But if I end up looking like a Tim Burton character, I will kill you with my bare hands." They both couldn't help but laugh.

Virgil decided to go for a similar style that Roman went for, layering different shades of red and mixing in some gold glitter. He also decided to draw a small crown on his right cheek, just below the eye. The look was then finished off with red lipstick to match.

He passed the mirror over to Roman who gasped in delight at his reflection. "It looks so good!" He exclaimed.

"Yeah? I'm glad you like it." Virgil smiled, pulling back on his purple patch hoodie after taking it off to give himself more mobility when applying the makeup.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Roman said, waving his arms in front of his face before jumping up and handing Virgil a black leather jacket that was hung on his chair as well as a pair of purple tinted heart glasses. "Put these on!" He exclaimed.

Virgil once again pulled off his hoodie, replacing it with the leather jacket. It fit him surprisingly well considering Roman was a fair bit taller and more muscular than him. He then put on the glasses and Roman eagerly pulled him off his bed and guided him to his full length mirror.

"Wow...I actually look really good." Virgil said.

"See! I told you!" Roman laughed.

Virgil examined the jacket. "I didn't think you'd own a jacket like this. Did you steal it from Remus or something?" Virgil asked.

Romans smile suddenly dropped. "It, uh, it was Janus'..."

Shit.

"Oh, um, sorry." Virgil said, honestly.

"It's ok." Roman sighed, sitting back on his bed. "I've been meaning to give it back. Especially since it still has his wallet in it. But that means I'll have to see him and I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

'He left his wallet in here?' Virgil put his hands in the pockets and sure enough, Roman was right. Virgil quickly started to feel all too powerful now knowing this.

"Hey, come on, let's go out somewhere. Show off your makeup." Virgil tried again.

"For someone who looks like they belong in a vampire novel, you're awfully eager to go outside." Roman laughed.

"Come on, I just think it'll do you some good to get out for a bit."

Roman averted Virgil's gaze. "I don't know..."

"Come on, man. Do you really want to let that jackass ruin your birthday?"

Roman sighed. "Ok, fine."

Virgil waited outside Romans room as he changed out his pajamas. When he came out, he was sporting a white shirt paired with a black jacket that had a red floral pattern. He was also wearing a pair of glasses, his in the shape of two fairy wings that matched the gold in his eye shadow perfectly.

As the two walked out the house, Roman called "Mom, weren't going out! I should be home soon!"

His mom sounded surprised by this but happy non the less. "Ok sweetie, be back soon!"

"So where are we going?" Roman asked as they walked out the house.

"How the hell should I know? I'm just winging it." Virgil laughed.

———

The two wandered through the town as the sun began to set, the reds and oranges bouncing off Romans glasses and the glitter perfectly. Virgil was all too aware of the judging looks they were being given but when he looked at Roman, he seemed happy. And right now that's all that mattered. Just keeping Romans mind off Janus.

Eventually, Virgil began to hear the sound of music and he subconsciously started to follow it, Roman tailing behind. As he wandered through the town he eventually found the source.

A bar putting on a drag show.

Roman was staring off into space, standing next to him. Virgil tapped his shoulder, pulling him back to reality. "Hey, I know what we're doing."

———

Romans face lit up once more when he saw the stage. It didn't seem like they missed too much, which was good. The drag queen that was stood on the stage currently was singing, her hair done big with makeup that shone and reflected the lights perfectly. Her dress black and covered in sequins and frills. The heels she wore didn't look comfortable in the slightest but she walked in them with ease.

The two sat at the bar. They were each 18 and 19, meaning they wouldn't be able to drink but given the circumstances, it was probably best if Roman didn't get drunk right now.

Instead, Virgil just ordered them some non alcoholic drinks and fries. Roman was about to hand him the money to pay but Virgil immediately declined. "My treat. It's your birthday after all." Virgil then remembered Janus' wallet still in his jacket pocket. 'I mean, if Janus is the reason we're here, it's only right he should be the one to pay for us, right?' Virgil couldn't help his smirk as he handed the money over.

The night continued and Roman and Virgil cheered loudly for each queen on stage, each one quite different from the last. Virgil watched as any sign of grief seemingly dissolved from Romans face.

The final queen for the night came on the stage and they both watched with joy as she performed.

"I know what you're doing, you know." Roman said, not taking his eyes off the stage. Virgil froze instantly, slowly daring to look at his friend. Roman once again had small tears in his eyes but he wore the most genuine smile Virgil hadn't seen on him in ages. "Thank you."

Virgil smiled at his friend. At his brother. "Of coarse."

-------

Authors note: I’ve been wanting to write something based on the glam looks Thomas posted for Roman and Virgil for a while now and I obviously wanted to write something for Romans birthday. So when I saw the prompt for today was ‘drag’ I immediately thought “well that’s convenient”. So happy birthday Roman! Anyway, hope y’all enjoyed. I’m still practicing my writing and hopefully I’m improving.

Reblogs >>> likes

#sander sides #pridewrite2021 #fanfic #pw alt 4 #tw cursing #tw breakup mention #tw crying #tw alchol mention #tw violence mention #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #platonic prinxiety #creativity twins #creativitytwins #roceit #roceit angst #past roceit

33 notes · View notes

sunnywritesstuff34 · 3 years

Text

Illusions

(Yayyyy. Another one. It’s been a while, sorry. just wanna preface this by saying that like... I usually don’t really give a shit about Obito, but I figured this was a natural progression of the story and I kinda wanted to try and dive into Obito’s psyche a little so. here we go. tell me what you think. @ghostjellyfishheart here’s the next chapter lol. pls mind the tw’s)

TW and CW for: MAJOR UNREALITY, seriously stay safe, Obito is kinda spiraling a lot, grieving, struggling with morality, drinking, alcohol, less then stellar coping mechanisms of all kinds, don’t do this kids, child death, ghost child, dead kid, you don’t like... see her die but Rin is very much not alive, references to suicide, implied suicide, the uchiha massacre is its own warning, murder, its bad. its just. its just bad. did I mention unreality? a lot of that, death of a family member, obito is having a hard time with feelings, probably dis@ssociation, pretentious symbolism, scratch that, definitely dis@ssociation

Obito Uchiha is upset.

And that is, frankly, ridiculous. Obito does not get upset. What does upset even mean? Is he sad? Mourning, perhaps? Or is he just worried? Either way, its borderline impossible. He shouldn’t be feeling anything. Obito doesn’t feel anything. Sure, he plays at it, when he’s Tobi. He feigns and pretends, he’s good at that. That is what he is, that is all he is. To Itachi, he is Madara. To Konan and Nagito, he is Obito. To everyone else, he is Tobi. Obito has taken on mask after mask after mask on in his life, both figuratively and literally. Sometimes he doesn't know where Obito ends and another begins. Obito does not feel anything, not for anyone that isn't Rin. Never for anyone that isn't Rin, and he left her behind a long time ago. And yet this boy, this child, has him reeling somehow. Has him… well, like before, the only word he can use is upset. He is rattled. And it has been so long, so long since he’s felt anything at all, that he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to fix it. He kept seeing Sasuke in his head, kept remembering memories from years ago when he thought about the kid being gone forever. He remembered the first few years Itachi brought Sasuke to the compound, he remembered spontaneously discovering his obsession with tomatoes by accident with Kisame (who would not stop laughing. He had just never seen anybody. Put an entire tomato in their mouth. And Sasuke did it like it was the most natural thing in the world! Kisame wouldn't shut up about it for at least a week). He remembered helping the boy train with his newly forged chokuto, he remembered the grim determination towards his family and how much it reminded Obito of himself, he remembered all of it. And none of that should have mattered, because it wasn't real. None of it was real, the next world would be. The next world with Rin and Kakashi and Minato-sensei still alive, a world without… without Sasuke. Or any of the other Akatsuki. And that was what he wanted. He was sure that was what he wanted. Only in his room could he show the weakness tightly coiled in his stomach. But there was a knock on his door and it made him straighten up, instantly putting the mask that he just took off back on his face. He walked to the door and opened it, only to find the older Uchiha brother staring back at him. Obito blinked.

“Itachi-san. What are you… what are you doing here? I- uh… come in.” Obito and Itachi sat down at the small table in Obito’s room and stared at each other awkwardly. “So… how can I help you?” Obito tried to ask, unsure of whether to say it like Tobi or just let his guard down and talk like himself (whoever that was). Itachi cleared his throat.

“You are the only person in this godforsaken place that has sake that's worth a damn,” Itachi explained calmly. He looked away. “It has… been a long week.” Obito could tell the truth in that statement just from his cousin’s voice. Itachi sounded exhausted, and the perpetual mask of indifference had begun to slip when his little brother went missing. The two of them looked at each other and came to an understanding. For the next few minutes, there was no talking. Obito grabbed some glasses and poured his strongest sake out for the both of them, and they drank in silence. They only actually picked up a conversation once they were both drunk enough for the awkwardness to melt away.

“He’s likely not dead,” Obito commented bluntly. Itachi only sighed.

“If he is, I have no idea what I'd do,” Itachi grumbled casually, like it was an ordinary thing to say. “Certainly wouldn't stick around here. Probably follow in Shisui’s footsteps.” Obito only nodded, knowing better than to pry on that particular bit of insight into Itachi’s life. They were silent for a few more minutes before Obito spoke again.

“The massacre,” Obito started. “I was long gone by the time it happened. What… are you and Sasuke really the only survivors as the rumors say?” Itachi nodded, throwing back another glass. Obito thought about that bitterly, about his grandmother who wouldn't have been spared. Itachi sighed.

“Right. I've never really talked about this with anyone, and Sasuke and I don't speak about it much. You know how sharingan awakening works, yes?” Obito nodded, mind involuntarily flashing to his own experience.

“Well I made some genuine friends on my genin team. It was the first time I ever had any friends.” Obito closed his eyes and took another sip. Friends, sharingan awakening. Being crushed under a boulder with your crying teammates looming over you. Thinking, no, don't cry, it doesn't hurt. It really doesn't hurt. I can't feel anything, please don't cry. Watching a particular white haired individual (a traitor, that traitor) desperately try to save you. Losing a part of yourself, a part of yourself you didn't even know you had, and giving it to someone else. Forever living with that, knowing that your other eye is somewhere, because you can still feel it, but not knowing much else. The aching absence that grows from that. He opened his eyes again. “I watched them die, right in front of my eyes. That awakened my Sharingan, and when I went home, my father congratulated me. He congratulated me. It was a nightmare and he was proud. I don't know, that always stuck with me. But anyway,” Itachi paused to drink more sake as the room spun. “Sasuke’s eyes woke during the massacre. I didn't get there in time. He watched our parents die, managed to hide in the closet and keep quiet the whole time so they didn't find him. I got there in time to stop them from killing him, and realized his sharingan had awakened because of everything. I wasn't able to save anyone, but I was able to save him, and that's all that matters.”

“I understand,” Obito replied evenly. “I know what it's like to be too late.”

Itachi’s eyes slid over to him. “Yeah well… whatever. The Uchiha had been planning a coup for a while. Danzo, he gave me a choice. Either kill everyone myself and have Sasuke be spared to live happily in the village. Or, to let them kill everyone, Sasuke included. I didn't… I refused either option and tried to get there but I was too late. They killed everyone in one night, a bunch of Anbu who were deployed for the massacre. Like I said, Sasuke managed to hide. I knew that Danzo would be after us, so I grabbed Sasuke and we got the hell out of dodge. He didn't speak for months afterwards. Not a single word, other than screaming during his nightmares. It was probably a little selfish, but I… I missed him. There was no more ‘Itachi, look at the score I got at the academy!’ or ‘Itachi look, look I learned a new move!’ There was just… nothing. He was so vacant. If he's dead- if he’s dead after everything we’ve been through, I don't- I have no idea what I'll do. We have to find him, and we have to kill the people who took him away from us. We have to.” I know, he wanted to shout. I know, I feel the same way, but I don't know why! Itachi left not long after that, stumbled back to his room, and Obito fell asleep in his armchair. That night he had a dream, a dream of Rin. it had been years since he dreamed of her, usually they were memories and bits and pieces, but this was different. He opened his eyes in his dream to a dark plane filled with ink, darkness stretching in every direction. It was a frequent setting he found himself in, usually the dream would be about him sinking into the oily substance until he couldn't breath. But this time it was low enough to wade in, his feet touching the ground, whatever that was. In the middle of the expanse, there was a bone white skeleton of some creature he didn't recognize, and Rin. He staggered towards her, and she hugged him without a word. In dreams like this he was always covered in blood, the Obito from years past. But now he was just him, and he was maskless.

“Just what have you gotten yourself into now, Obito?” she asked, and it sounded just like her. It wasn't her, he was fairly sure of that, he was dreaming for god’s sake, but it sounded like her. It seemed like her, and that was enough. “It's okay to be worried about the kid,” she said, running fingers through his hair while he tried to calm his breathing.

“It's not real,” he managed hoarsely. “None of it. Nothing in this world is real, I shouldn't feel anything. So why… Why do I…”

“Does it matter if it's real?” she asked. “It feels real. Maybe it is, Obito.”

“Obito is dead,” he whispered. “At least the one you knew- Obito doesn't exist anymore.” Rin only shook her head, looking past him at nothing at all and smiling sadly.

“I don't believe you,” she said evenly. “You're still Obito. No matter how many names you take or how many masks you wear, I know who you are. And I think you do too.”

“It's not real,” he tried again, weakly.

“If it's not real, then why do you help Konan with the dishes? If it's not real, then why do you want to save Itachi’s brother so badly? Why do you make plans for Nagato’s dream in the supposed next world when you don't have to? Why do you stick around Deidara to make sure he doesn't get killed? Why do you help Sasori with his puppets? Why, Obito?”

“I can't be Obito,” he muttered quietly. “He’s dead. He died with you.”

“He is right here. He is sitting here with me. You're still you. You'll always be you.”

“B-But…. But Madara-”

“Madara is dead,” she said with finality, shaking her head. “Madara is a dead man now. You are the only thing that can bring him back, and you have a choice.”

“I've never had a choice.”

“You do now. Madara isn't here.”

“This is all just an illusion.” She smiled sadly.

“I'm an illusion, Obito. Your world is not.”

His dream didn't fade out from there. One second he was sitting in a dark dreamscape with his dead friend, and the next he was in the Akatsuki lair, laying in an armchair, sitting up and gasping for breath. His back hurt and his neck was aching from the weird position he dozed off in, and Obito could already feel the nausea of an inevitable hangover coming on. Still, he sat up properly, stretching his neck and running a hand through his short hair. Itachi was probably passed out in his room or throwing up already, and Obito had a hunch that he’d be feeling the same way pretty soon. He looked down at the floor and forced his eyes to focus. He didn't have time for a drunken hallucination within a drunken hallucination. But when he turned his head, he felt himself recoil and raise his hands to his face. The orange plastic from the ground winked back at him. Obito had taken his mask off. And now it was cracked.

#yeahhhh #lol anyway #was this short?#maybe #Obito knew most of those details about the massacre #obito #obito uchiha #uchiha massacre #akatsuki #kisame #Sasuke Uchiha #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #naruto au #unreality tw #madara uchiha

21 notes · View notes

love-fireflysong · 3 years

Text

Oh my god, I'm so sorry that this one took so long holy shit. I have no excuses, other than the fact that I'm a terrible person who can't be trusted with deadlines it seems. But it is done! Yay! So, as successfully chosen by Miss '@clumsybookworm18' Mel, here's my entry for hurt/comfort (finally). This is actually the beginning part of a sole survivor chris/ash au I've been imagining for over a year now, and will very likely be the only part of that au I will ever share. That au is for me. And me alone, sorry lol.

Can't Undo the Scars can be read over on AO3 of course (and I would recommend it if only for the snazzy looking texting lol) but it is also under the link as usual.

Can't Undo the Scars

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort Fandom: Until Dawn Characters: Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley Words: 9749 Rating: Teen (mentions of past trauma, unhealthy coping mechanisms, separation anxiety, nightmares that involve death) Author's Notes: Will I ever be happy with this fic? No but I'm as content with what I got as I ever will be. What Chris and Ash are doing to try and get back to 'normal' is so stupidly not healthy for either of them, but they are young kids that just want to try and move on with their lives. So be nice to them (and me obviously lol).

"I think we should take a break."

Sitting across from Ashley at the table in the quiet cafe where they had gotten coffee together, Chris fumbled with the sugar cube he had grabbed. It bounced off the small table and tumbled to the floor, not that he was paying any attention to it anymore. Not when it felt like all his blood had frozen in his veins. Still, hoping and praying that he was misunderstanding what Ashley was trying to get at, he let out a forced little laugh. "...like a KitKat? Oh man, when was the last time I had one of those? Must have been ages ago, you're totally right we should go and grab a bar or two after this. A little snack and treat we both totally deserve and I'll break us off a piece of that—"

Chris let everything else he was about to say trail off when Ashley pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and shook her head fiercely as she refused to look at him. The loose sleeves of the sweater she was wearing were pulled far down enough that only the tips of her fingers were poking out, and those tightened around the mug of coffee she was holding onto. "No, I-I mean, I think we need to take a break from each other. At least for a little bit."

Forget his blood freezing, Chris felt everything around him freeze. His breath froze in his lungs, his heart froze in his chest, and time seemed to freeze around him. "Ash, are-are you," Chris swallowed roughly as he tried to keep himself together, "are you breaking up with me?"

Immediately Ashley's eyes snapped up to meet his, and they were wide with the same fear that Chris was pretty sure had replaced all the blood in his body. "No! No, that's-that's not what I'm doing! That's not what I want at all!" Her hands left the mug she had been gripping on the table and reached out to take Chris's, but hesitated and pulled back at the last second. "Why? Do you want to...?"

Chris closed the distance between their hands and grabbed hers in his, but was careful not to touch her wrists. He was more relieved than he had imagined it was possible to feel (and he had felt some pretty intense feelings of relief in the last half a year) when she responded by immediately turning her hands over so she could curl her fingers into his. "I don't! I can't think of a single thing in the world I want to do less than that."

The jerky nod that Ashley gave in agreement should have left him feeling better, but it didn't. "Good. So we're not br— not gonna do that then."

"Cool. Cool cool cool. Glad we're in agreement. But then, what did you mean by that, Ash? That we should..." Chris couldn't even bring himself to say the words, instead letting them die in his throat when Ashley slowly withdrew her hands from his and placed them back around her quickly cooling mug.

"It's just, this isn't healthy Chris. This can't be healthy for either of us."

"Healthy? What isn't healthy? This much coffee? The amount of sugar I put in my cup every morning? Is the amount of sugar I use turning you off Ash? Cause I don't think I can fix that sorry."

She didn't smile at that, not even a hint. No faint tugging at the corners of her mouth, no sigh of exasperation, nothing. And it was then that he knew that whatever this was all about, she was as serious as he'd ever seen her, and that terrified him.

"This, Chris. None of this. The fact that neither of us can sleep alone. That I'm terrified that the moment you leave my sight I'll never see you again. I hate that it feels like neither of us can go out in public unless we're both there."

"Oh. That. Yeah, I-I can see how that might be a problem. But Ash, it wasn't—it's not as if it's our fault. We're just trying to heal, I mean that's what all the doctors keep telling us at least. And if this is what it takes, then what's so wrong about that?"

Ashley looked up at him again, and while he wasn't shocked at the dark circles around her eyes (they were identical to the ones around his after all), the tears that had started to build up in the corners of them had him reaching over the table so he could take her face into his hands. Her hands cover his a second later, but not pull them away like he feared, instead she curls her fingers into the palms of his hands so she can hold him there. The two of them lean over the table to meet in the middle, likely looking like a romantic embrace shared by lovers in the corner to anyone looking on, but this is anything but. "But it's been months Chris," she starts and he wipes away the first tear that threatens to fall before it ever gets the chance to, "since, since..."

Since Blackwood, he finishes for her in his head, it's been months since Blackwood and it still feels like we're no better than when we first came down. And it has been, Blackwood had been nearly six months ago now and the two of them still jumped and grabbed for each other at what seemed like every little thing. A loud bang, even from something as small and normal as a car backfiring down the street, always sent Chris back into that room in the basement, watching as Mike aimed that gun at Emily. The sound of a glass cup shattering as it hit the floor would have Ashley locking up in fear, her grip on Chris's hand tightening to a point far beyond pain.

That first week of July had been terrible for them both. The smart thing to do would have been to get as far out of town as possible, but that would have left them basically stranded in the wilderness; surrounded by trees on all sides as they jumped at every little sound and animal call, wondering if it was yet another one of those creatures from the mountain trying to finish them off. Instead they had elected to stay home, cowering together in Chris's basement as the fireworks going off with loud pops and bangs from nearly every house in the area had managed to cut through their earplugs and send them both into a tailspin. Remembering every bullet that Chris had shot into the Wendigo that had chased him from the shed, none doing any damage at all except to push it back further and further from him. Remembering the sound as the lodge exploded into a ball of fire, leaving them to sit cold and alone in the snow as their ears continued to ring and ring. The coolness of the basement had done little against the summer heat either, reminding them too much of the heat from the burning lodge that had threatened to cook them both from the inside out.

July had almost been worse than February, and nothing would ever top those two days in February.

He's not worried about the scene the two of them are making in the cafe though. The table they had chosen—had been using since they discovered this beautifully quiet and peaceful cafe back when they had both finally worked up the nerve to leave their houses back in May—was in a secluded corner with no windows. It was a defensible position (or at least as defensible as a table in a public cafe could be) and as long as they stayed quiet then no one would pay any attention to them. Not when the other patrons were too busy chatting with their friends or typing away on a computer. And the employees? They had more to worry about then two nerdy regulars who for all appearances looked like they were having a romantic and private conversation.

"Can you at least just tell me why?" Chris whispers, his words choked as he continues to wipe away her tears. "Why now? What happened to make you think that we need a—" his m0uth moves but nothing comes out until he finally manages to force the word past the blockade in his throat "—a break."

Ashley leans into one of his palms and smiles at him sadly. "I know we both decided that we were gonna try and start school again in the winter semester, and that our admissions had already been accepted, so I was looking at dorm availabilities when you had fallen asleep last week. They only have a few single dorms and those are available only for married students. Which is fine, it's way too small to room two people at once for durations longer than a weekend. But it also turns out that there is no option for co-ed dorms, the school doesn't allow them. No exceptions."

"What? But, surely they must—"

She shakes her head. "No exceptions, they were very clear on that. I don't know how many times me or my mom or any of the doctors emailed them to try and explain the circumstances, but the response back was always the same. They 'feel sorry and understand how difficult this must be for us' but no exceptions means no exceptions. We either agree to separate dorms with roommates of the same gender or we have to find another set of lodgings."

"But that's...that's bullshit! So the thought of a boy and girl sharing a room apparently goes so far against their-their—what, good Christian values?—that giving our poor roommates nightmares while we scream ourselves to sleep is an acceptable alternative?!"

Ashley turns her head so she can leave a chaste kiss in the center of Chris's palm in an effort to calm him down, and decides to just stay and murmur her next words there. "I hate it too, but what other alternative is there? You know we can't get a place together, there's no possible way we could afford the rent for one."

"We can...we can..." Chris tries to find something, anything, he can say to make this not happen. "I can find a job, work and go to school or—"

"And we arrive back to the same problem, Chris. If we can't survive a separation at school, how are we supposed to do it when we're both out working as well, just so we can stay together. I don't want to do this anymore then you do Chris; I really really don't. You have no idea how much I don't want to do this, but we have to get used to not being able to see each other all the time. And I would rather do it on our terms then because the school or our roommates decided we can't."

Ashley's right, of course Ashley's right. It's Ashley Brown after all, she's always right, but he doesn't want her to be. Not about this. "Okay," he agrees instead, even as it feels like saying the word is stealing something away that he can't quite name. He hides this by lowering her head so he can place his lips on her forehead and say the words there instead. "Okay. Just-just tell me how long."

"A week." Chris feels something in his stomach turn into stone and sink to the bottom of his gut. He had been hoping for something like a day or two, not a full week. He isn't sure he can survive seven days without seeing her. "I-I thought long and hard about it, but a week. We're gonna have periods anyways where we won't be able to see each other because of exams or projects, so if we can manage a whole week then we can do those no problem."

"Are you sure that maybe we shouldn't, I don’t know, just build up to that? A day here, two days there, just so we can get used to it?"

Ashley shakes her head firmly enough that it jostles Chris's hands right off of her face, but keeps her hands in his anyways. "No. I want to get this over with. Prove to everyone, to ourselves, that we can do something as simple as this. I mean, we used to go periods all the time when we didn't see each other for ages, so what's so different about this?"

"Everything", Chris wants to say, "Everything's different now. It changed the moment we left that mountain behind." But he doesn't. He doesn't because he wants her to be right, that this is just a minor hiccup and if they can overcome this, then they can overcome anything. So with one last squeeze of her hands and a pained smile, he lets go and takes a sip of his coffee and grimaces at the taste. It's cold now, had probably gone cold a long time ago and he can tell from the shared frown on Ashley's face that hers has gone cold too.

With no reason for either of them to stay here now, they had only brought enough money for a single coffee each, it's pretty clear that their little coffee date is over. Neither of them say a word as they clean up their table and leave the cafe, their fingers intertwined as they usually are nowadays, but holding on tighter than usual. They separate only so they can get into Chris's truck, but the moment they settle into their seats, their hands find each other once again. And that's how Chris drives Ashley back to her mother's, hands gripping so tightly that they're fingers have turned white and not saying a single word the entire drive back. They never mentioned it, but neither of them have to. The moment they arrive at her place, then this is it. This will be the last time they're gonna see each other for an entire week, and the moment one of them speaks then any and all willpower they have to pull this off is going to be gone and they'll be back at where they started. They need to do this, even if neither of them want to.

It isn't until Chris pulls up in front and watches her let go of his hand to take off her seatbelt that it actually hits him. For the first time in six months, he's not going to be following her in. That he's going to continue the drive back to his own house alone. The realization shudders through him and he quickly finds himself fumbling at his own seatbelt clasp, and the moment he's free he's surging across the divide between them and taking Ashley's face in his hands as he kisses her like he's never going to be able to again. She doesn't hesitate to return the embrace either, throwing her arms around him and gripping onto him as though she never wants to let him go.

They spend what is probably far too long delaying the separation, but inevitably they do separate. And when they look at each other it's with tears in their eyes and their foreheads pressed so firmly together it's almost like they're trying to become one person.

"Just seven days, right? And that's it, we'll never have to do this again? You promise?"

Ashley doesn't say anything, she just nods and leans in for one last kiss, as though trying to memorize it and him for the coming week. And when she does pull away to leave, it's with her arms slowly untwining themselves from around Chris's neck, and then letting her fingers trail lightly over his shoulders, down his arms, and past his hands. Though she is stopped when Chris curls his fingers so that they catch on his, and doesn’t fight it as she watches wordlessly as he lifts them in front of his face and carefully lets the loose sleeves of her sweater drop so he can see the faint scars on her wrist that were left when the rope burns had healed. And as always, he makes no comment as softly places a kiss into the center of each wrist, followed by the palm, and then the tip of each finger, finally closing his eyes as he presses the back of her knuckles to his lips and holding her hands there. Just to remind himself that she was still here, that she hadn't died on Blackwood Mountain with all the rest.

He drops her hands when she pulls them back, but doesn't open his eyes when he feels her shaky fingers carefully remove his glasses and place them on the dashboard before returning her hands to his face in order to complete their little ritual. Gently, she traces the contours of his face with the pads of her thumbs, brushing them over his eyes, his nose, his lips, and following each with a soft kiss to the body part in question. Finishing as she always does by placing her lips in a closed mouth kiss to the area where his jaw and neck meet, and lingering just long enough so she can feel his pulse thrum beneath his skin. The minor burn from where he had once held the gun to his jaw had faded a long time ago, but he doesn't think that either will ever forget exactly where it used to be. And when she leans back, the usual expressions of relief and awe are hidden so far underneath the absolute heartbreak that they may as well not even exist. "I—" he starts, but stops just as quickly. It's far too overdue, but the timing isn't right. "I guess I'll see you next week then."

Ashley looks like she has something she wants to say, but instead reaches out to put Chris's glasses back on his face with shaking hands and as she opens the passenger door and gets out of the vehicle, she gives a weak smile. "Yeah, I...I'll see you then."

Chris just watches as she walks up to the building, gripping onto the steering wheel as hard as possible in an effort to hold himself back from trying to follow her into the building like every fibre of his being is screaming at him to do. And after sharing one last shaky and teary eyed smile from the top of the steps, Ashley unlocks the door and enters, leaving his sight for what feels like both the first time in forever, and the final time he'll ever get to see her.

He rushes the rest of the way home, and the moment he gets back he just about runs to his bedroom and hides under the covers of his bed, ignoring both the surprised greeting his mother sends his way and the inquiry about where Ashley is. He just wants to sleep.

The week will be over quicker that way.

***

By the end of the first day Ashley is ready to scream. Not because she misses Chris horribly (she does), or because waking up without Chris at her side had sent her into near hysterics (it did). She had expected these things after all, they were all things that she had to get used to again, he wasn't always going to be there with her after all. It still hurt—good god did it hurt—but all in all, it wasn't going terribly for the first day. She'd had no nightmares thankfully, and had spent most of the day reading, with some minor tidying up in her room and helping her mother around the house.

Oh no, the reason she was about to scream was her mother in question. Who after finding out why exactly Chris hadn't come home with her yesterday, and never made an appearance later on in the evening just before bed, had been frantic. Saundra wasn't angry, she didn't scream or yell or try to do anything that might set her daughter off, but she was being horribly insistent that maybe Ashely and Chris should have thought this through more. Asking why Ashley had never brought this up to her, and if she even mentioned that they were doing this to their doctors. She hadn't of course, because Ashley was fully aware that they would have done almost everything in their power to try and talk them out of it, telling them that the two of them weren't ready for separation of his magnitude yet. And of course neither of them were ready for this—they likely never would be—but it needed to be done if her and Chris had any hope of even trying to return to a normal lifestyle in time for them to return to college in January.

And, well, she was terrified about what would happen to them if they didn't. Sure it was deemed 'healthy' for now, as they tried and struggled to recover from what everyone around them said was a horribly traumatic series of events. But what about when it wasn't simply seen as healthy and therapeutic, but harmful and co-dependant? Ashley loved Chris, even if neither of them had said the words yet she felt it in her entire being everytime she looked at him, and the idea that one day they might grow to hate or resent each other for being unable to let go was too much. And so the completely necessary trial separation came into being. If they could prove that they could successfully be apart for something as short as a week, then this wasn't codependency in the making, it was healing pure and simple.

Now she just had to convince herself of that.

***

By early morning of the second day, Chris had finally admitted to himself what he had figured out a few short hours into his self-exiled bedrest: sleeping the week away when he had been finding it hard to sleep in general for months now was quite frankly going to be impossible. And so he had with great reluctance rolled himself out of his far too empty bed and into the shower, passing his own mother talking in hushed voices on the phone. Voices that quickly stopped the moment Lilith realized that her son was finally up and moving again, and then immediately confronting him afterwards and pleading that he tell her that nothing bad had happened between him and Ash. He weakly assures that everything's fine between them (it's not, everything is not fine, it won't be fine until she's by his side again), and that he'll talk to her after. The only thing he wants right now is a hot shower. Lilith lets him go reluctantly, but Chris is also very aware that the moment he steps foot into the bathroom, that she's going to be back on the phone with Saundra speaking in hushed and worried whispers.

The rest of the morning passes by in a haze of motherly questions—mixed with the occasional fatherly one every now and again just for spice—and a large breakfast that tastes and feels like ash in his mouth, and it bleeds into the afternoon, and then into the evening. Which finds Chris both bored out of his mind and desperate for a distraction as he digs through a pile of video games to try and find something to play. But everything he finds was either given to him by Ash, or ones the two of them had played together (if not both), so he abandons his search and instead finds himself out in the garage digging through dusty and broken down boxes until he finds the old playstation and games that his parents had gotten for him before he had ever met Ashley or...or...

Well, the point was he had a game now that carried no memories of anyone or anything except being six and terrible at video games. It does nothing to wipe away the loneliness and despair that covers him like a heavy blanket, but it's a start. An extremely stalled start to a race he wants nothing to do with, but a start nonetheless.

***

On day three, Ashley is starting to think that maybe her mom had been right and that this was such a stupid idea. Last night was especially bad. No matter how many blankets she had piled on her bed, no matter how many childhood stuffed animals she had shoved back on to fill up the empty space, none of it had helped. She had never felt so cold in her life and all the open space on the bed had made her feel like she was going to be swallowed up into the emptiness. In desperation she had started ripping the drawers from her dresser and throwing clothes from her closet, frantically holding back burning tears of frustration and the scream building up in her throat.

And then she found it. One of Chris's sweaters shoved half-hazardly away into a dark corner of her room under the bed, and had been forgotten about by the both of them until now. The immediacy with which she had fumbled to grab the thing and throw it on probably would have frightened her any other day, but with the tears finally flowing hot and heavy down her cheeks as she buried her face into the dark fibres, all she could feel was bone-crushing relief settling over her. Her room a mess she could deal with in the morning, Ashley had crawled into bed hugging herself and the sweater as close as she physically was able. She wasn't cold anymore, and the bed felt less empty too.

As long as she had a reminder that Chris was still alive, that she could still smell him even on this dusty and long-forgotten piece of clothing, then even if he wasn't physically here with her she could manage. And she would manage, she would. They were already halfway through the week after all, and she would prove to everyone—to herself—that they (she) could do this.

Ashley wears the sweater all the rest of the day once she wakes up.

***

In true Chris Hartley fashion, day four finds himself absolutely glued to the screen of his phone. Shortly after forcing down a small breakfast in an attempt to alleviate his worried parents' concern, he had spent what was probably a far too long amount of time in his text messages just staring at Ash's name. His thumbs hovering nervously over the keyboard as he fought with himself over and over again, debating if texting Ashley would be okay. Yes, the two of them had agreed that this 'break' (he hates the word, hates it hates it hates it with every fibre of his being) was needed if they wanted to try and get themselves ready for the separation that college life would inevitably bring, but that was to try and prepare themselves for not being able to see each other for long periods of time. They wouldn't be able to see each other during classes or during periods of intense studying and working on projects, but they would still be able to talk. Hell, his entire first year of college while she was still in high school had been just that. They hadn't been able to hang out in weeks, but they had still texted all the time.

So biting the bullet, Chris had gone ahead and texted Ash a quick and easy 'hey'. No 'miss you', no 'this was a terrible idea', no ' i wish you were here right now'. Just a simple 'hey' and then he stared at his phone, face pale and hands shaking as he waited to see what she would do. He didn't care if she would just send back a scathing reply about how he was breaking the rules by doing this, he just needed her to respond and reassure him that she was alright. That she was still alive and his insecurities were getting the best of him.

The phone rumbling softly in his hand was a godsend, and so too was the affirmative 'hi :)' that she had responded with. After that, it was as though the floodgates had opened. The two of them texted each other back and forth the entire rest of the day, her telling him about the books she had been reading as he told her about his adventures through late 90's and early 2000's gaming. They told each other what they had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They talked about everything and nothing and it was so blissfully normal that Chris wondered why on earth it had taken him this long to text her in the first place. He thinks that he was so used to just having her there with him all the time, that the idea that they could still text hadn't even crossed his mind.

There are things he doesn't tell her of course. That the idea of falling asleep without knowing she's next to him and safe is so ludicrous that he had stopped trying, only sleeping in small, unintended fits that leave him feeling even worse than before. That despite at least continuing to eat, the food tastes like nothing and he can only manage a few bites before excusing himself. And what little he does eat almost always manages to come back up during the night, though thankfully when his parents are both sleeping (he doesn't want them to worry more than they already are). Chris doesn't want to worry Ashley, not when it seems like she's managing this whole seven-day long affair better than he is so far. If she can do this, then so can he.

So no matter how many times his thumb hovers over the call icon in the corner, he does not press it. Texting will have to be enough, he knows that the moment he hears her voice then every single shred of resolution he has built up will crumble in seconds and he'll be driving as fast as he can so he can see her again. And they're already four days deep into their seven days, the last thing he wants is for Ashley to decide that they need to start all this over from the top again.

***

Ashley is comfortable in her bed, more comfortable than she's ever felt in her life honestly. Chris's arm is draped heavily over her waist, and his breath is warm on the back of her neck as he peacefully naps the afternoon away. His body is solid against her back and she feels so, so safe and so, so loved as she continues to read her book, a favourite of hers that she had read cover to cover a million times but always felt like coming home in its warm familiarity. Contentedly, she flips a page and snuggles back further into Chris's body and she feels something warm and wet drip onto her neck.

"Chriiiiiiis," she groans, but not without an edge of laughter, "wake up. You're drooling on me, you dip." He doesn't move, and Ashley repositions herself a little, made difficult by the weight of his arm over her, and jabs her elbow into his gut. "I'm serious you dork, wake up. I swear to god, you sleep like the de—" The words die in her throat in horror when she turns her head to face him.

His head isn't there. Nothing is there. Just dark blood pouring hot and heavy from the open space above his neck, staining the fur lining his coat and the once clean, white snow as the blizzard rages around her. Desperate to prove that this isn't real, that it can't be real, she fumbles for the hand that hangs limp at her waist and threads her fingers through his, but his fingers are cold to the touch and black with frostbite, and no matter how hard she squeezes he isn't squeezing back. She's fully aware that she's openly crying and sobbing as she repeats his name over and over, begging him to wake up and tell her that this isn't real. Her tears are freezing on her cheeks the moment they fall.

From deep within the treeline, a high-pitched shriek that rattles the teeth in her mouth echoes long and loud around the wide, open snow-covered space.

Cries and nausea alike stick in her throat as she tries frantically to wiggle out from Chris's body, but his arm is a dead weight that keeps her pinned in place against him. "C'mon, Chris. We need to go. We need to hide. Get up, please please please get up."

There's a soft thump of a large body landing in the snow far off to the right, unseen but not unheard, and she freezes in place. Hoping and praying that the thing won't see them as she huddles in closer to the protection that Chris's body is offering, her blood stained fingers tightening painfully on his limp hand and around the leather bound journal she is still holding in her other. In fear she buries her face into the snow beneath her, the cold biting at her skin and the metallic taste of Chris's spilt blood filling her mouth and nose. For a moment, there's nothing. No sound except for the wind whistling through the trees as the snow whips wildly around them.

And then Chris is gone. The comforting and yet horrifying weight he had been is just gone as he's suddenly flung through the air and colliding into a tree with a sickening crunch. Her hand had been gripping onto his so fiercely and so tightly that she had been pulled with him for just a second before his hand had been violently ripped out of her grasp. Leaving Ashley to stare wide-eyed and terrified into the face of the thing—its body too long and spindly with far too many sharp angles to be considered human—standing above her as she lays on her back. Milky-white eyes gaze back down unseeingly at her and Chris's blood is dripping from sharp, deadly claws that splatter onto her face. The thing opens its mouth to showcase row upon row of crooked and yellowed razor-sharp teeth and it screams at her, spittle flying into Ashley's face as her ears ring and ring and ring.

Too scared to cry, too scared to move, Ashley just wishes that Chris was still here with her and not lying broken and mangled and headless at the foot of a tree as he continues to slowly bleed out into the crisp white snow. A small little whimper, barely louder than the whisper of wind blowing through grass and certainly going unheard in this howling blizzard, escapes past her lips but it's enough. In a flash, the same deadly claws are raking towards her face to rip her head off in the same way it had to Chris.

And Ashley screams.

She screams and screams and screams, and screams only louder when a pair of hands cradle her face and a voice begs and pleads with her to wake up. Ashley tries to fight back against the hands and the voice, screaming for Chris to wake up and help her, but her own words keep getting caught on the blood that is bubbling out of her mouth. There's another scream, this one not her own, and then the hands have moved to try and open her mouth but she won't let them. She doesn't want her jaw ripped off like what had happened to poor Jess. Like what she had seen in the pictures that the rangers had shown her and Chris so they could identify the half naked body discovered in the mines. So she fights back even harder, trying to claw at the person or thing that killed Chris and Jess and everyone else. And then there's a cry of pain, and the hands on her face have vanished, appearing around her wrists so they could try and hold her panicked flailing back.

The moment the hands appear on her wrists, Ashley's eyes fly open and she can't breathe. She can't breathe because she's hanging in the shed, the wood cold against her back as saws whir menacingly both in front and above her as Josh hangs limpy next to her. The lower half of his body an impossible mess on the floor and the grey intestines that had managed to stay in his upper half hanging down towards it like grotesque party streamers. From behind the steel chain link fence that partitions the room, Chris stands looking straight at her as he holds a gun to his jaw, his face pale as he smiles shakily at her and pulls the trigger.

Somehow, the scream that finally manages to break through is louder than all the rest.

There's more begging and pleading that she can't make out against the loud mechanical whir of the saws. And then a phone chimes, only just managing to cut through all the screaming and whirring and echoes of gunshots. And then it chimes again, louder this time. And again. And again. And she realizes that she recognizes it, it's the ringtone that Chris had set on her phone for his contact ages and ages ago as a joke, and she had just kept forgetting to change it back until it just became his notification, joke or not.

Slowly, the shed fades away until all she's left seeing is her mother standing in her brightly lit bedroom, screaming at someone through her phone. But all Ashley is paying attention to is the repeated chimes going off constantly on her phone one after another, the screen never getting the chance to go dark before another text comes in, and Chris's name appearing for every single one.

Saundra seems to notice that her daughter has finally stopped screaming, and although she continues to plead with whoever it is on the phone with her, she reaches out a hesitant and unsure hand. Ashley notices none of this as blood continues to dribble slowly out of her mouth as she picks up and unlocks her phone.

***

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong and it isn't the fact that Chris is kneeling over the toilet as he retches into it for the second time tonight. Oh no, the something wrong is due to the fact that despite it being past midnight he can hear his mom trying frantically to calm someone down on the phone. It was the phone ringing that had woken him up in fact from where he had accidentally dozed off on the couch, waking up to find the old playstation controller hanging loose in his fingers and Crash idly spinning a piece of wumpa fruit on his finger in all his polygonal glory. Chris had dropped the controller the rest of the way to the floor in his rush to the bathroom though, startling poor Toby from where he had been snoozing the night away in his dog bed. He had only barely made it before he found himself throwing up what little food he had been able to eat during the day, and the coolness of the porcelain against is forehead was a balm of relief when compared to the burning in his throat and heat of his tears as they flowed slowly down his face.

He could tell the moment that Lilith had found him from the surprised cry of alarm behind him, quickly followed by a clatter as she dropped the phone to the linoleum floor in her shock as she reached out to take her son's face in her hands. Chris knew that he must have looked a dreadful sight, his face pale and drawn while his eyes looked at her with a glassy stare. The next second, she was yelling over her shoulder for his father to wake up now and turn on the car, but Chris wasn't paying any attention to that. Not when he was just starting to make out the sound of the voice through the phone, and more importantly, the screaming in the background of the call.

That was Ashley's scream. It was a sound he didn't think he would ever be allowed to forget and it hit him that she was screaming—screaming for him—and he wasn't there.

Clumsily, he ripped his face from his mother's hands and stumbled to the living room where he had left his phone on the couch. He had to help her. She needed him and he had to help her. The moment he finally had his phone in his hand he pulled up her contact name...and then he froze unsure of what to do. He couldn't call her, not because of this whole stupid break thing, but because the sound of her voice sobbing on the phone will cause him to break down with her and the last thing either of them need is to scream and cry while they're both so, so far away from each other. So he does the next best thing he can do:

He texts her.

C: what does a cloud wear under his raincoat? C: thunderwear C: why are teddy bears never hungry? C: cause they're always stuffed C: why do ducks have tail feathers? C: to cover up their buttquacks C: what kind of shoes do private investigators wear? C: sneak-ers C: why do i never tell jokes about pizza? C: they're too cheesey

And on and on and on. Even as his fingers shake he continues to text her stupid little jokes. The same ones he tells to her when he's there to hold her in his arms and remind her that he's still okay and that she’s safe. There's no describing the sob of relief he makes when she finally responds.

C: prime-mates C: what event do spiders love to attend? A: Cats C: webbings

There's a moment where he doesn't know what she means by that. How on earth could cats be the pun he was looking for in the joke? And then it hits him. She needs to know that it's really him telling these jokes and that she's not just making up everything she's seeing on her phone. Ashley is asking for the stupidest jokes about cats he knows so she can confirm that it's really him on the phone. Even tired as he is—and he is so so tired—they come naturally to him as only talking with Ashley and middle school dad jokes ever did.

C: what's a cat's favourite colour? C:purr-ple C: what do you call a cat that loves to bowl? C: an alley cat C: what's a cat's favourite tv show? C: claw and order C: what does the cat say after making a joke? C: just kitten

And so on and so forth. Ashley throws out a new topic for jokes and Chris replies with them as quickly as he can. He can hear his mom and dad talking in the next room, to each other and Saundra on the phone, but the only person he cares about is the one on the other side of his. He needs to call her. He knows what Ashley needs when she has a nightmare this bad, and the jokes are helping but she needs to hear his voice to be truly convinced that he's okay. But he can't hear hers without making things so much worse than they already are and he doesn't know what to say that would calm her down and—he stares at the last joke he had just typed out unconsciously it hits him.

C: what did the two volcanoes say to each other? C: i lava you C: i'm going to call your phone but whatever you do don't answer it C: just let it go to voicemail and please don't answer it C: please

Chris doesn't wait for her response as he shoves past his father to his bedroom, ignoring the startled shout as he slams the door behind him, and slumps against it to the floor. He doesn't want his parents to hear this. It's not anything that would worry them, but it's so so private and the only person he wants to hear this is Ash. He still doesn't look at her response as he frantically taps the call button and listens to the phone ring. And ring. And ring. And ring. And ring. And then, finally, he hears her voice for the first time in nearly a week.

"Hi, this is Ashley. Sorry I can't come to the phone right now but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Promise!"

***

Please enter your password.

6279#

You have one new voice message. To play your messages, press one. To record—

"I love you. I'm so sorry that I'm not there so say it to your face but I love you so much that I can't fucking stand it somedays and I should have told you ages ago. I should have said it five days ago but I didn't. I should have been saying it to you before falling asleep and after waking up every day. On the helicopter ride down the mountain. When you kissed me for the first time. I think I was lying when I said that nothing was wasted between us, because I should have been screaming this to you from the first moment you smiled at me. I wasted so much time not telling you this so I'm going to say it now. I love you, I love you, I love you, I lo—"

To replay this message: press one. To go to—

"I love you. I'm so sorry that I'm not there so say it to your face but I love you so much that I can't fucking stand it somedays and I should have told you ages ago. I should have said something five days ago but I didn't. I should have been saying it to you before falling asleep every night and after waking up every morning. On the helicopter ride down the mountain. When you kissed me for the first time. I think I was lying when I said that nothing was wasted between us, because I should have been screaming this to you from the first moment you smiled at me over that diner's table. I wasted so much time not telling you this so I'm going to say it now. I love you, I love you, I love you, I lo—"

"I love you. I'm—"

"I love you."

To replay this message: press one. To go to the previous message: press one one. To pause during message playback: press two. To fast forward a message during playing: press three. To hear this message, and the time it was delivered: press five. To copy this message to another person: press six. To erase this message and go to the next: press seven. To reply: press eight. To save this message and go to the next: press nine. To—

You have no new messages.

*beep*

A: I need you A: Please A: Please A: I need you A: I need you A: I need you

Please enter your password.

***

The car ride over was almost unbearable. Chris wasn't driving himself fortunately, with how tired and anxious he had been feeling for days now it would have been an absurdly stupid idea that likely would have ended in his death if he wasn't extremely lucky. As it was, he had been ready to go and beg a ride from his parents but had found Gabe already standing by the front door with the keys in hand. His almost pure white hair messy from being pulled from bed unexpectedly and leveling Chris with a glare that brooked no argument. It wasn't an argument that Chris intended to fight against as he hugged his father hard in thanks before climbing into the back of the vehicle.

But the drive had felt so much longer than it usually did, and Ashley having stopped responding to his texts certainly hadn't helped matters any. He still sent them anyways, more for his own reassurance than hers now. Lilith sat in the passenger seat next to her husband, still talking on the phone to Saundra to give progress reports and reassurances that yes the three of them were on their way now, even as she sent the occasional nervous glances at Chris in the backseat. Though worried for him or for the car upholstery in case the movement of the vehicle set off his gag reflex was anyone's guess.

The moment Chris felt the vehicle slow down his eyes jumped to the window and saw the familiar and welcoming shape of Ashley's building and he was already fumbling with seatbelt and opening the car door before they had even fully stopped. He hears his parent's cry out in shock as he dives out the still moving (even if very slowly) vehicle and he's stumbling towards the door. Chris realizes in horror that in his hurry to leave he had managed to completely forget his keys by the front door, and in the time it takes him to realize that the door has already opened. Saundra is standing in front of him dressed up for her overnight shift at the dispatch center that she is now extremely late for, and phone held up to her ear as she stares at him with wide eyes.

Chris doesn't even bother to say thanks or remark about the deep scratches on her cheek, the pair still bleeding just a little, before he's shoving his way past her and up the stairs to where Ashley's room is. He trips on the last step and falls forward, his phone skittering across the floor, but leaves it once he gets to his feet and just about barges into her room.

He takes barely a moment to stare at Ashley huddled up on her bed, looking so small in his dark sweater, and her eyes squeezed shut as her phone is pressed as close to her ear as possible as she rocks back and forth. There's a thin streak of dried blood from her mouth all the way down her chin and her eyes fly open in shock when he takes an unsteady step towards her. For a split second he's too scared to move, he doesn't want to frighten her anymore than she already is, but then the phone drops from her fingers and she whimpers out his name like she can’t believe he’s really here and he breaks.

He's already fully crying as he collides into her on the bed, but so is she so there's no need to feel embarrassed about that. He can hear his own voice as a tinny facsimile from the phone as the voicemail continues to play out before starting off into the electronic drone of the operator, but he ignores it for the feel of Ashley's arms wrapped firmly around him, her hands clawing into the back of his shirt to try and hold him closer as they both sob bitterly into each others shoulders. Chris is the first to pull back, though it's just so he can hold her face in his hands as he presses their foreheads together, thumbs wiping away tears that won't stop falling even as he continues to cry himself, just soaking in her presence in front of him. Ashley takes no time for her hands to start roaming all over his skin when they snake underneath his shirt, just feeling the unmarked bare skin as she searches for wounds and marks that no longer exist or have never even existed in the first place.

The two of them sit there like that for an unknown amount of time, just confirming that the other is truly alive and safe. Until Ashley slowly removes her hands from under his shirt so she can drag him down and forward into a deep kiss. A kiss that is by all accounts is downright awful considering that Chris never got the chance to rinse out his mouth and all he can taste is the blood in Ashley's from where she had bit her tongue during her nightmare at some point. Neither of them care. And he still doesn't care when Ashley starts to leave what may very well be slightly bloody kisses as she trails her lips from his mouth to the corner of his lips, across his cheek, and down his jaw until she finds the spot she's looking for and stops there so she can feel his frantic pulse thrumming beneath the skin. She holds her mouth there for what many would likely consider to be an uncomfortably long amount of time, but Chris says nothing. Not when he's now too busy picking up where Ashley had let off, letting his hands skate over the area of her stomach and waist beneath her shirt and his sweater.

The moment the two of them have calmed down enough that the sobs have lessened into quiet tears, Ashley finally removes her lips from his jaw and lowers one of her hands so she can place it flat on his chest and can feel his heart thumping steadily beneath her hand. Chris lets a hand cover hers to hold it there while he carefully places the other on the back of her neck, this thumb soothingly rubbing back and forth to comfort her. And gently, so gently, he brings their foreheads back together as they let the last of their adrenaline run out.

She's safe. He's safe. They're both safe and that is all that matters right now.

"I'm sorry," Ashley is the first to speak and words catch and almost shatter on the way out. "I'm so sorry. This was such a stupid idea and—"

He doesn't disagree with her. This had been a terrible idea from the start and while she's not wrong that they need to get used to not being around all the time, this was too much too soon. For both of them it seems. "I can't do that again Ash," he says instead. "We'll figure something out. Make agreements with our dorm roommates if we have to, force the college heads to accept our emails and the doctors advice, or rent the shittiest and cheapest apartment we can find. I don't care. We'll figure it out, but I can't do that again Ash. I love you but I can't."

Ashley nods weakly against his head in agreement. She can't do it again either. The two of them had barely lasted five days after all, and this whole failed endeavour had probably sent them back months. "I love you too. I love you so so much. You can't leave me, Chris, please. You can't. Not tonight."

He has no intention to, he doesn't know what his parents intended bringing him here, or if they thought he'd be going back home with them after this, but he's not going anywhere. They'll have to drag him kicking and screaming from the bed if they try, and now that the adrenaline has finally worn off, the lack of sleep he'd been having the last five days is hitting him and he is just so, so very tired. So tired, that all he gives in reply is just a reassuring forehead kiss in promise that he won't be going anywhere, not for a long time if he can help it, and then starts to bring Ashley down so she can lay on the bed with him. She follows without a fight.

It only takes them a moment to settle, Ashley laying so her front is flush to his back as is physically possible with her arm draped over his waist and fingers threaded tightly through his. Chris takes her other hand so he can softly kiss her inner wrist and then holds the knuckles lightly to his lips. The two of them slowly drifting off as Ashley continues to softly whisper declarations of love into the back of his neck.

Chris's eyes are closed, just enjoying her whispers that are meant just for him to hear, and even then he can tell that someone is standing in the door and watching them. But even if he opened his eyes to see who it was, with his glasses now resting in their spot on Ashley’s bedside table, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyway. And he’s just far too exhausted to even try right now. It’s only her mom anyway, or one of his parents—quite possibly all three of them—and he knows that come morning and after hours and hours of sleep, that there are going to be some conversations and intense worried scolding that need to be had. But with Ashley's fingers squeezing around his, and him squeezing back just as firmly, he doesn't care.

For the first time in a little over five days, the two of them fall asleep peacefully. Secure and content in the knowledge that they’re not gonna have to do this again, not for a very, very long time.

#my writing #pride month prompt challenge #until dawn #chris hartley #ashley brown #chrashley #is a sad heartbreaking story #lik dis if you cry #asdsakjdasd

19 notes · View notes

judediangelo75 · 4 years

Text

Crushed

Okay, so I mentioned an a random post that I wanted to show the two halves that make, well her.

A painfully timid and skittish side (which mainly developed when she started living with her mother when she came to London. While she can hold her ground against her a bit more, she still fears her mother) and the coldhearted side (which developed at Hogwarts, where all the issues, tragedies and so on harden her).

I was on my Wattpad where I can a collection of Judith and Talbott stories (though there’s not much backstory or structure on there) and this story definitely would show that timid side of her. I tweaked it so it can be better than what I have posted over there.

Just to be clear: This side DOES exist. It’s her most vulnerable side of her. The reason it’s not shown is because Judith doesn’t like showing that side of her. Where she feels like a piece of glass that can break at any second.

She struggles with anxiety. She doesn’t like having too many eyes on her, she feels like people are constantly watching for any mistakes like her mother and exploit it. It gets pretty bad to where she gets anxiety attacks (she usually runs and hides out for awhile until it’s over. Like I said, she doesn’t like showing this side of her, and WILL NOT share this side unless you pry it out of her).

While she doesn’t show it often, she does talk peoples’ words to heart at times. Which doesn’t help her low self esteem.

She does her best to find coping mechanisms to help over the years and does build genuine confidence. But it takes time.

Alright there, you have a back of backstory of that side of her.

Just FYI, this is just to show that side of her (like if her more dominant side; because usually when you push her, that cold side would seep through a bit. You would hardly ever see her skittish)

Okay, I rambled on enough. ON WITH THE STORY!

(Judith Harris)

"There goes Demented Harris," I heard someone whispered to their friend before they broke out into snickers as I walked out of my Transfigurations class. I just kept my head down and walked past them.

Sometimes I think that coming to Hogwarts was a mistake.

Ever since the incident with my brother years ago, everyone suspects that I'll be just like him.

Become hellbent on finding the Cursed Vaults, getting expelled, and disappear. Never to be heard from again.

I have broke a few curses since my second year but I stayed pretty sane. I’m a good student and sought to become a Healer when I graduate. I don’t plan on dropping off of the face of the Earth...

Even though I’m sure nobody would miss me if I did...

I sighed. I would’ve thought some people would at least be a bit grateful for what I’ve done for them, for the school, thus far. But like my mother always said, I’m asking for too much in life.

It’s fine though. If I can't find love and appreciation in people, then I can in magical creatures at least.

"Miss Harris?" I blinked, coming out of my thoughts to look down. Professor Flitwick smiled up at me once he saw he had my attention.

"Good day, Miss Harris," he greeted. I gave a shy smile and nodded, whispering a soft hello.

"If it’s not too much trouble, if you're free, I was wondering if you can assist me in a class for first years. One of my top students already agreed to help, but I would love one of my favorites to join in on the lesson," he said. My smile widen a bit before I nodded once more, following the small man to the Charms classroom.

There were times I wished I joined Ravenclaw. I enjoyed spending time with the ex-Dueling Champion. He was one of the few people who treated me with kindness. He didn’t see me as my brother, but for me.

I loved to help him, when it’s for tutoring, helping for the younger students or even for helping the Frog Choir whenever he needs extra help (he’s disappointed that I didn’t actually join, but settled for this arrangement).

I even spend my birthday, which was also his, with him. Something I haven’t done since Papa died.

I let out a mental sigh. But I wasn’t a Ravenclaw. Which might as well be a blessing, seeing how I have an easier time avoiding him.

"Ah, here we are!" I almost missed Mr. Flitwick's delightful cheer when we entered the classroom. All I could focus on what the feeling of my blood going cold when I saw who was the other teaching assistant.

Talbott Winger...

I quickly ducked my head when he turned to look over in Mr. Flitwick and I's direction. How did that saying go?

Speak of the devil and he shall appear? Whoever said that was on something...

"I hope we didn't keep you waiting, Mr. Winger," Mr. Flitwick said as he hopped up on his tower of books. From the corner of my eye, I saw Talbott give him a small smile.

"Not at all Professor. What will we be helping you teach today," he asked. As Professor Flitwick explained today's lesson, I stood quietly a few feet away from Talbott, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. Flitwick pointed to the basket of feathers and had us place one at each seat. I remained silent as I handled my task from one side of the room.

I developed a crush on Talbott when he helped me become an Animagus. To this day, I don't know why he agreed to help me. Maybe because I have access and knew things that he didn't?

Either way, I couldn't help but to fall for him.

He just seem so handsome to me. From his neat, slicked back hair to his beautiful red eyes.

I appreciate the fine art of sarcasm, which he seems to be a master in (next to me of course). I find him hilarious whenever he’s feeling sassy or playful.

Helping him find his mother's necklace made me realize that there is a beautiful heart and creative mind that he hides under that aloof and unapproachable exterior.

Which made me fall faster.

The smile that spread on his face when he said that we were friends just melted my heart in a helpless puddle of love...

But I wouldn't really go as far we were "buddy-buddy". More like acquaintances, hell I'll be lucky enough to call us that even. I would see him around, maybe give a wave. Half of the time he rarely sees it though, making me look awkward in the process...

I don't know why I try to get his attention. It doesn't matter because I know he doesn't feel the same way about me. I remember his reaction when I confessed to him, clear as day.

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

Flashback

"Rather than erase pre-existing memory, it might be easier for you if you tell Mr. Winger a new piece of information. Something that he didn't know before and won't forget, then use the Memory Charm to erase that memory," Flitwick suggested. I heard Talbott made a noise of agreement. I turned to find him sizing me.

"I'm okay with that. If you're just gonna erase my memory of it, you might as well tell me an interesting secret, Judith," Talbott suggested, a hint of mischief dancing in those red eyes. I bit my lip and shyly glanced at the Ravenclaw boy. Maybe I can confess my feelings and see how he feels about me...

"Th-Then this might be a g-good opportunity to tell y-y-you that... I-I-I fancy you, Talbott..." Flitwick and Talbott looked at me in shock.

"Oh my!" Flitwick gasped. I felt my face burn with embarrassment and shame as Talbott looked anxiously at me.

"Wh-what? Are... are you serious," he exclaimed. I rubbed my arm sheepishly, waiting for him to say more.

"Why? I mean... er..." I felt a bit of dread build in the pit of my stomach. Was he surprised? Or was he uncertain on how to let me down gently?

"Thank you," he finally said, though it came out more like a question. I buried my burning face in my hands.

"This probably wasn't the right time..." Or any time for that matter.

The boy rarely looked in my direction, why would I even think he would express some kind of interest in a witch like me?

"Ahem, perhaps now would be a good time to try casting Obliviate..." I never agreed with Professor Flitwick more. I quickly pulled out my wand, pointing it at Talbott.

For a moment, I could’ve sworn a look of protest in his red eyes, but didn’t want to dwell on it too much.

Talbott was not leaving this room with that memory, not if I can help it.

After casting the spell, Talbott looked lost then a little frustrated, like he was struggling to remember something.

"What do you remember, Talbott," I asked as I withdrew my wand. I needed to know if the spell worked or not so I determine if I should go into hiding for the rest of my time at Hogwarts...

"I remember you choosing to cast Obliviate on me, then... nothing," He replied. I let out a sigh of relief.

"That means Obliviate worked," I cheered. Talbott looked at me suspiciously.

"Now you've gotten me curious. What did you tell me," he asked.

Ha! You're hilarious if you think I'm repeating that situation twice. I'd sooner jump into the Black Lake.

"I'll tell you later," I smirked. By later, I mean never.

Like ever.

He returned the smirk.

"I'm going to hold you to that..." Over my dead body, Winger...

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

Ever since then, only two people know of my crush on Talbott.

Professor Flitwick and Penny.

I'm pretty sure he forgot about that whole situation and I'm more than grateful for it. I wasn't gonna confess again back then and I'm not looking to confess now.

Once the classroom was set up, the first years filed in and took their seats. Professor Flitwick introduced both of us to the class. As Flitwick went over the basics of the lesson, Talbott turned to look at me. I almost jumped out of my skin.

"How are you, Judith," he asked, a small smile tugging on his lips.

"I-I'm o-okay... and yourself," I stuttered. Judith, words! Use them!

"I'm doing good... I must admit, being here together brings back memories," he said. I fidgeted, already knowing what he was implying.

"O-oh," I asked, trying to play dumb. He looked me in my eyes.

"Yeah, where we came to Flitwick to learn the Memory Charm... I'm glad you talked me out of using it on Merula by the way," he admitted, his smile growing. I felt a blush blossom on my cheeks.

Gods, why is he so handsome?

"It's not a problem, Talbott," I said softly, looking down so he wouldn’t see my red face. He hummed before saying,

"You know, you never told me what you said to me when you erased my memory.”.

"Miss Harris, do you think can come and demonstrate the proper stance and help the class correct their stance?" I darted away to help Professor Flitwick. The Gods are looking out for me today.

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

(Talbott Winger)

I frowned when the young Hufflepuff basically ran away from me to help Flitwick.

Judith seems naturally shy, but never have I ever seen her outright run from something. She took on Cursed Vaults, but she runs from a simple question.

Ever since she erased my memory of whatever she told me, the situation would pass through my mind from time to time. I just wasn't sure how to approach the topic with her. Today seem like the perfect opportunity to broach the topic with the cute Hufflepuff.

Yes, I said cute. Because she is.

I admit I didn't like how she was so pressed to help me in the beginning but I slowly grew fond of the girl.

Plus, she was very beautiful.

Ever since I hit my growth spurt, I towered over the Hufflepuff by at least a good 5 to 6 inches. She was a bit on the short side, but where I was standing, she seems small and it was adorable.

Her sweet face was one of my favorite things to look at. Despite her shyness, her facial expressions usually spoke for her sometimes. The way her nose would scrunch up in distaste when she heard something unpleasant or she didn't like. The way her brow would crease in concentration when she's in class or studying. The way she would hide her flushed cheek behind her hand when she's embarrassed. The way her eyes would speak for her when she can't formulate words...

I normally wouldn't pay much attention to the opposite sex as far as physical appearance but I must admit, there was a time or so where I wondered what she looked like in more form fitting clothes, instead of her House robes or her trusted yellow hoodie.

Her shyness made her all more endearing.

The way her gold eyes would widen slightly when someone focuses their attention on her. The way her sweet voice would sometimes stutter when she tries to talk. Sometimes hitting a higher octave when she feels insulted. How she would bring the bottom half of her hoodie to cover her face when she's blushing. How she fiddles with her dark brown hair when she's nervous.

She was cavity-inducing...

"Mr. Winger, can you come up with Miss Harris to cast today's spell?" I heard Professor Flitwick call.

I smiled as I walked up to stand beside the suddenly flustered Hufflepuff. Together we were able to levitate our own feathers, flying them across the room. I peeked over at Judith, seeing a beautiful smile spread on her face. My heart fluttered at the sight.

Such a shy and quiet beauty.

"Excellent, just excellent," Flitwick praised. Judith looked down, shuffling her feet. We soon went on the opposite sides of the room to help any students with the spell. I stole some glances at her, finding her smiling and laughing with the first years, applauding them when they successfully cast the spell.

She looked so happy...

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

Once class was over and we finished cleaning the classroom, Judith was already gone before I could question her again. I softly cursed beneath my breath.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Winger," Professor Flitwick asked. I perked up a bit. Maybe he knows, he was there after all...

"I was wondering if you could help me with something... about Judith," I said softly. He nodded.

"Do you remember what Judith told me the day you taught us the Memory Charm?" He looked surprised and mused over what I said.

"So I'm assuming Miss Harris never told you what she said that day," he said. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Winger, but it is simply not my place to tell you," he sighed. I rubbed a hand over my face, suddenly tired. Will I ever know what that girl said?

"May I ask you something, Mr. Winger?" I looked up the the short man.

"Is it possible you fancy the girl? I've noticed how you looked at her during class," he asked. I felt a blush working its way up to my neck.

Am I obvious?

"Of course not, Mr. Winger. But you are in my house, I take the time to learn my students throughout the years," Flitwick chuckled. I glared at the man's teasing.

"Yes... I started to grow fond of her and she is rather endearing," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. The professor smiled at me.

"Although I can't tell you what she said, I'm sure you can get your answer if you spend some more time with the girl," he offered. I frowned.

"But I rarely see her around, except for class and in passing," I said. The girl was extremely scarce, despite having her own friends. Flitwick looked thoughtful for a few moments before saying,

"Why not ask Hagrid for her whereabouts? I know she spends a decent amount of time with the man." Not a bad idea...

"I'll go do that now, thank you Professor and enjoy the rest of your day," I smiled, walking out.

Time to catch me a little Hufflepuff.

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

"Hello, Hagrid," I said, approaching the giant man. Hagrid turned to me with a big smile.

"Hello there, Talbott! What can I do fer ya?" Fang barked and ran up to me. I chuckled and bent down to pet the dog.

"I was hoping if you could help me find someone," I said as I rubbed Fang's belly. The man laughed cheerfully.

"Why of course, m' boy! Who are you lookin' fer?," he asked.

"Judith, have you seen her," I asked, silently praying he'll agree to help. Hagrid looked taken aback at my request.

"I- er..." I rose a brow at him.

"I don't know Talbott... Judith made me promise not to tell anyone where she goes when she has free time," he said, looking a bit sad.

Here I thought I preferred being alone, but clearly she has me beat...

"Why is it that she wants to be alone so much," I asked. I was a bit upset that I couldn't find the girl as easily as I would like.

"There are some cruel kids in this ‘ere school, Talbott. The girl has a lot more weight on her shoulders than anybody realizes," Hagrid sighed. I frowned.

"What does that mean," I asked.

"Pay close attention to what people say when she's around," Hagrid simply said.

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

Taking the man's advice, I watched the girl as closely as possible the next few weeks. I must admit, it hurt me seeing the girl being pushed around.

Demented Harris.

Jinxed Judith.

Jamal #2.

The shoves.

The laughs.

The public humiliation.

Those hurt gold eyes, shimmering with unshed tears.

No wonder she's so quiet and hardly around. Any form of attention brought to her is negative.

I miss seeing her smile...

Today I planned on confronting her, hopefully to provide some comfort.

In my Animagus form, I silently followed the girl as she walked out of the castle in the direction of the Magical Creature Reserve. Perching myself in a tree nearby, I watched as she walked in a grassy field, carrying a bag of creature feed.

As she approached a Niffler, Knarl, Porlock, Diricrawl, and Abraxan all perked up at the sight of her.

"Feeding time, my loves," she called, her voice sweet and full of affection. The creatures all bounded towards her. Her Niffler, bounded up her legs, torso to rest on her shoulders. The Knarl rolled around her feet before bumping into her left foot. The Porlock trotted up to nuzzle her right calf, it's tail waging. Her Diricrawl nuzzled her left leg, flapping its small wings. The Abraxan trotted around her, nuzzling her hair.

The girl was giggling at her creatures’ enthusiasm.

"One at a time, everyone. You will all get your turn," she said. She looked so cute, surrounded by all these creatures.

Once she fed them all, she and them all walked around the field and to my hiding place. The Abraxan looked directly at me and huffed. It turned and used its hide legs to kick the tree. I let out a surprised squawk and flew out before I could fall.

"Angel! What's gotten into you, it's just an eagle," Judith cried, running up to the winged horse to soothe it. I landed a few feet away and her Porlock stared at me warily.

Can her creatures tell I'm not really just an eagle? The Porlock went up to me, sniffing me before letting out a soft huff of distrust.

Yeah, they can...

Giving up the act, I transformed back into my human form. The Porlock let out a small startled cry and ran to Judith, hugging her leg.

"What's wrong, Baron-" Judith froze when she saw me standing there. I let out a bashful smile.

"Talbott! Wh-what are y-you..." she trailed off, looking down. I slowly walked towards her, doing my best not frighten her.

"I just wanted to see you, Judith," I said softly.

"Why," she asked firmly, turning to face me. I took in her full appearance and blushed a bit.

She was wearing a floor length sundress, white on the top that gradients to a soft shade of yellow. It was form fitting, hugging her curves perfectly. Her full chest, small waist, her abs, her slowly rounding hips.

Her hair was in twists. Most of it was pulled back in a low ponytail while the rest formed her bang that occasionally sweep over her right eye.

Her face was free of makeup, save a gloss over her plump lips. Her skin was basically glowing...

I swallowed thickly.

She was...uh... rather developed for someone was just 16.

Oh boy...

"I want to spend some time with you," I said, reminding myself to breathe. Her pretty gold eyes widen and she shifted uncomfortably on each foot.

"S-spend time with m-me," she repeated, sounding lost. I nodded, getting closer. We were only less than a foot apart now and I could smell her perfume. I tried my best to keep my breathing even, even though I was to take in more of that pleasant smell.

I held out my hand. She looked down, extremely confused.

"We could start with a walk around the Creature Reserve... if you'd like," I suggested, silently hoping that she'll say yes.

A few moments past and I could feel my nerves starting to take over. Before I could pull back, Judith laid her small hand in mine, stepping close.

"Okay... but we're visiting the rest of my creatures in the meanwhile," she said, staring at my chest. Slowly, I grasped her chin to tilt upwards so she can meet my eyes.

She had one of prettiest eye colors I've seen, I could get lost in them all day...

"Of course, anything for you," I said with a smile. Her eyes went wide and she abruptly buried her face in my chest. I felt my heart stutter at her unexpected closeness but didn't push her away.

Gods, she was so cute...

"C'mon, what other creatures do you have," I chuckled, gently nudging her from her hiding place. She flustered at our proximity to one another and simply held my hand, leading me to other parts of the reserve.

The entire time, I couldn’t help but to notice the feeling of her hand in mine.

Her hand had a few callouses on her fingertips and a bit on her palm, assuming from all the writing and physical work that she does. But her hand felt soft overall.

To me, it shows how strong she is, all while still having a gentle touch.

Perfectly her...

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

I made some decent progress with Judith the next few weeks.

She was able to open up to me and allow me to help her take care of the creatures she adopted. It was nice to see her laugh and smile around me.

There was moments of slight awkwardness, like some of her creatures pushing us closer together. The bigger creatures were especially known for this. One time, Griffin, her Hippogriff, purposefully picked up the girl and set her on his back, as if going on flight. He never gave her adequate time to properly hold on, so when he took off, she would fall over and I have to race to catch her. I always found myself holding her protectively against my chest, our faces just an inch or two apart.

More than once, I've been tempted to kiss her.

But I simply set her down while she shyly thanked me and scurried off.

We were sitting side by side each other, under the shade of a large tree. Another sundress hugged her frame, this time white and royal blue. Her Porlock, Baron, was cuddling up against her as she scratched behind his ears.

"Hey Judith," I called out softly. Her pretty gold eyes shyly glanced at me.

"Yes," she answered. Taking a deep breath, I brought up the question,

"Why wouldn't you tell me what happened in Charms class that day?" she stiffen a bit and Baron let out a soft huff of worry. I reached out for her hand, intertwining our fingers.

"Please don't shut me out, Judith. I just simply want to know," I said softly. I watched as she gave the young Porlock a final scratch behind his ears before sending him off.

“I-I... I’m scared to see your reaction again,” she quietly admitted. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, we’re a bit older and mature now. I’m sure I can handle it better this time,” I told her. She peeked at me from her short curly lashes before looking away.

She mumbled something under her breath.

"What was that," I asked, scooting over closer. The sweet smell of coconuts and cocoa butter greeted my senses, and I wanted to close my eyes in bliss.

"I...Talbott," she said a bit louder. Growing bold, I gently grasp her chin to look so she can face me.

"One more time for me, Judith..." Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let out a soft whimper.

"I fancy you, Talbott," she quietly sobbed, trying to pull away from me. I froze. Judith likes me...?

She feels the same way.

My lack of response made things worse as her eyes grew wide and frantic.

"I-I-I'm sorry! I di-didn't- you-you don't ha-have to-" her ramblings with a soft gasp. I pulled the girl into my lap, hugging her.

Judith went still, her nerves undoubtedly getting the best of her.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, little bird... I fancy you too," I whispered into her hair. She shyly met my eyes, hope shining brightly in those gold orbs.

"Y-Y-You do," she asked, trying to blink away any tears in her eyes. I gently wiped her tears away from my thumbs, she let out a soft breath at my touch.

"I do, Judith. And I want to prove it to you. Everyday... While at Hogwarts and beyond," I said softly. Feeling bold, I peppered kisses all over her face. Her eyes fluttered closed as I did this, her breathing slowly evening out. When I pulled back a little, she clenched at my robes with a whimper, pressing herself against me.

"T-Talbott, I-I-I..." Her expression was uncertain and fearful. I noticed how her gaze would land on my lips before darting back up to meet my gaze.

Rubbing her back, I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers.

She readjusted herself so she would be straddling my lap, her lips still moving shyly against mine. I groaned a little and squeezed her a bit closer. My hands followed the outline of her waist and hips, memorizing it. One of her hands was clenching at my robes and the other fisted in my hair. I groaned throatily. Gods, she's so perfect...

I pulled away, kissing the tip of her nose.

"You're so beautiful and perfect, darling," I cooed, nuzzling her cheek. I could partially feel the temperature rise and chuckled.

"And adorable," I added, pecking her lips. She pouted at me when I pulled away. I chuckled again.

"Don't give me that cute sad face," I told her. She grumbled but snugged against my chest. I sighed and ran my fingers through her hair.

"Talbott..." I hummed, letting her know I was listening.

"I like you," she said, kissing my cheek. I smiled and squeezed her tight.

"I like you too..."

#hphm #hphm mc #hphm talbott #hphm talbott winger #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #judith harris #hogwarts mystery talbott #talbott x mc #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott winger #talbott winger x jacob's sibling #talbott winger x mc #jacob's sibling #jacob's sister #hufflepuff!mc #hufflepuff x ravenclaw #fluff

38 notes · View notes

rmtndew · 4 years

Text

Begin Again

Summary: Walter Marshall is a dedicated homicide detective doing his best to balance his work life with being a single father to a teenage girl. Fiona Sparks is a woman doing her best to take care of everyone and everything around her, except for herself. Neither has had the best luck with relationships, but once they meet, they’re willing to give it another shot, this time with each other. (It’s basically just romantic fluff)

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This is a sequel to ‘All I’ve Ever Known’. I started writing this because I needed an escape for some personal stuff going on and my coping mechanism included giving Marshall all the love that man needed, and imagining him being the softest boyfriend to me, then passing those details on to Fiona (my OFC).

I also made a Spotify playlist for this story, if anyone is interested - Begin Again Playlist

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @alyxkbrl, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0, @gearhead66, @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora, @justaboringadult, @beenthroughalot, @seriouslygoodlookinggents, @xxxkatxo

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

The last Wednesday in October was a gray, misty, windy day. It was cold, the kind you felt more in your bones than anywhere else, with the sky occasionally spitting out sleet. I spent the entire twenty-minute drive to my job at Waverly Catering clutching the steering wheel so tightly that my hands were cramping by the time I arrived from white-knuckling it the whole way there. Usually, I would get to work early enough to enjoy the silence and finish off my coffee before officially starting my workday. That day, however, I spent the very little extra time I had trying to get my hands to stop hurting, then chugged down my coffee that had cooled dramatically to a gross lukewarm temperature.

Before going in, I checked my phone. I always kept it on silent while I drove. My mom had a tendency to text me, make a dozen spelling mistakes because of auto-correct, then correct them one by one, leaving me with about thirteen separate texts to read. It didn’t use to bother me, I thought it was charming and very distinctly Mom. But when she’d gotten sick at the beginning of the year, every text she sent that I couldn’t read immediately made me panic, worrying that something terrible had happened to her, even when I’d just seen her at home a few minutes before. So for my sanity - and hers - I started putting my phone on silent until I got to work, or wherever else I was going. It was a habit I’d kept even after she’d gone into remission because her cancer may have been gone, but my anxiety over her wasn’t.

That morning when I checked my phone, I saw that I had two texts, but they weren’t from Mom.

Marshall: Good morning, Fi. I hope that I get to see you today. I’ll be chained to my desk with paperwork for a while. This is the first time I’ve not dreaded it. You’re my silver lining.

That was cheesy. I’m sorry. I’m bad at this.

And just like that, all of my stress melted away. The weather didn’t matter, my disappointing coffee didn’t matter, even the cramping in my hands didn’t matter. All that did matter was that Walter Marshall thought of me as his silver lining. Yes it was early days, yes we’d barely known each other a month, yes we’d only gone on two dates, but he made me happier than I’d been in a long time. I felt like I’d been holding my breath for two years, starting when my dad had died in a car crash, followed by my boyfriend Ezra breaking up with me, then losing my job as an interior designer, and capping off with my mom’s cancer diagnoses. Then Walter came along and it was like I could finally breathe again.

Me: Please don’t apologize. You have no idea how much I needed to read that this morning. Feel free to be as cheesy as you want. And I hope I get to see you today, too, even if it means you’re chained to your desk.

Marshall: If I don’t see you for some reason, can I call you tonight? I miss your voice and you make me want to get better at this talking thing.

I could feel myself blushing. Even over the phone he made me feel like a teenager with a crush. I had no idea that anyone could make me feel that way as an adult, but he did every time he texted me.

Me: Of course you can. Even if we do see each other, you can still call, if you want? Practice makes perfect, and all that.

Marshall: I’d like that. Talk to you soon.

I sat back in my seat with a sigh as I looked out at the sleet falling from the gray sky, spattering my windshield, blurring out the image of the trees in the park across from me blowing and bending in the wind.

It was going to be a good day.

“You look...dare I say it? Happy?” Darcy said as I walked into her office.

I smiled. “You may dare to say it because yes, I am quite happy.”

“And what brings you to such an extreme emotion so early on such a disgusting day?”

I went to her desk and sat in the chair opposite her. “Well, for one, I know that you’re about to do me a big favor that I will forever be grateful for.”

“Fiona Sparks asking for a favor? I’ll mark the day in my calendar,” she joked. “What kind of favor do you need?”

“I need a copy of the peanut butter cookie recipe.”

“For what purpose?”

“See, that’s where the happiness part comes into play and you, being one of my dearest friends, would love to see me happy.”

“I would but I’m unsure how a cookie recipe is going to do that.”

“It’s not for me,” I said, smiling wide. “I met this guy -”

“What? Who?” she asked enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement.

“His name is Walter Marshall. He’s our detective who never changes his lunch order.”

“You’re dating one of the homicide detectives? You can feel free to thank me later for giving you that order, by the way. But right now I want details: How long have you been dating and why am I just now finding out about it?”

“We’re not technically dating. I met him a few weeks ago for the first time and we went on two dates last week.”

“You haven’t dated anyone in over two years, and then you go on two dates in one week?”

“Well, the first was just a coffee date. Saturday we tried having a proper one.”

“Tried?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.

“He wanted to take me to dinner, so we went to an Italian place, but before we could order, his daughter called. She was supposed to be at a Halloween party, but some of her friends had lied to her, I guess, and it ended up being a basement party with slightly older boys and she felt uncomfortable, so we went and picked her up. Then we all went for pizza together.”

“He has a daughter, which is some heavy baggage to begin with, but you met her on your second date? That’s a lot, Fiona.”

“I know it seems like it, but it’s really not. She’s a good kid. And he’s an amazing father, which, oddly, just makes him more attractive,” I said. “But that’s not the point. The point is that his daughter was, understandably, a little iffy about me being with him when he picked her up until she found out that I’m the one who brings the cookies. She apparently loves them and I told her that I might be able to get her a copy of the recipe and that seemed to pave the way for her not hating me instantly. And she’s thirteen, so that’s a pretty big deal.”

“I have so many questions right now but I can’t sort them all out so I’m going to be annoying you with them all day, just be prepared for that. All I want to know right now is if you want the recipe laminated or not?”

I let out a relieved breath. “Yes, please, if you don’t mind. And thank you so much, Darcy. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I do know. You never ask for anything, even simple things, so the fact that you’re willing to ask me for a favor means this is a pretty big deal,” she said. “He must be a good guy.”

I nodded. “He really is.”

I arrived at the police station that morning a little before eleven. I’d left the shop early, worried the weather might get bad again and didn’t want to be late for my delivery. Thankfully the sleeting had stopped, allowing me to get there a few minutes early. A few minutes that I used up trying to pull my dolly through the parking lot. The lot had been salted, which was good in that at least it wasn’t icy, but the wheels on my dolly didn’t seem to like the brine mixture. They kept locking up on me. Between that and having to fight against the roaring wind, it took me an embarrassingly long time to reach the station door. Before I could push it open, someone opened it from the inside for me. I looked up, expecting to see Officer Bates. He was the security officer that was posted downstairs and always went through the containers full of lunches that I brought to the homicide unit every week. Instead, I saw Marshall.

“Hello,” he said with a smile.

I immediately felt like giggling. The last time I’d seen him, we’d kissed. And seeing him right then, seeing his beautiful, handsome face, I wanted so badly to kiss him again. Instead, I felt myself grow shy as I blushed so fiercely that my cheeks stung with the new heat that rushed to them.

“Hi,” I said. He pulled the door open all the way, then stepped back, allowing me to walk in. My stomach fluttered as I looked back at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He closed the door behind me. “May I help you with your cart?”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Would you let me help you take it back to your car when you leave, at least?”

I fought every instinct inside of me that insisted I say no. Darcy was right: I hated asking for even simple things. I never wanted to burden anyone. But since I’d met Marshall, I’d learned that his way of showing interest or affection was to do things for me. But he always asked first, wanting my permission. It challenged me, but in a good way. I didn’t need to always go it alone if I didn’t have to.

“Um, yeah, I’d appreciate that. Thank you,” I said. “The wheels didn’t seem to agree with the salted parking lot. You could probably pull it a lot easier than me.”

Marshall stayed with me as Officer Bates went through the containers I’d brought in. He wasn’t close enough to make anyone passing by question it, but it was close enough that my hand hanging at my side could feel the heat coming from his hand and forearm, that was visible from the blue henley that was pushed up to his elbows in a way that I found incredibly attractive. My fingers itched to seek out his, but I fought it. Keeping them obediently beside me. Once Officer Bates was done and gave me the all clear to take the food up, Walter walked me to the elevator and pressed the button to call it down. Then he held the door back, letting me in first before following me. After the door slid closed, he fell back half a step, putting him right beside me. His hand bumped mine, his fingers snaking through, gently holding mine. I smiled, knowing I wasn’t the only one itching for contact.

I turned without a thought and placed a kiss on his shoulder. Then I paused, a moment of panic rising in me that maybe we weren’t at that level yet. But before I could move or feel too worried, he placed a kiss on the top of my head.

“I keep thinking about Saturday,” he whispered.

“Me, too,” I said. I looked up at him. “It was...pretty amazing.”

He smiled. I could see his sharp canine teeth. They were oddly charming. “Yes, it was.” He laced his fingers with mine more securely, properly holding it. “I know I mentioned calling you tonight, but I hoped that we might have dinner again instead. If you’re not busy?”

“I’m exceptionally not busy tonight.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead before turning his head back to face the elevator door. “I won’t be able to finish all my paperwork today, there’s too much and it keeps multiplying like rabbits, so since I have to do it tomorrow anyway, I’m going to knock off here around five. Could I pick you up after that? Around five-thirty, perhaps?”

I nodded, smiling. “That sounds great.”

The elevator dinged as we reached the homicide unit floor. He gave my hand a couple of gentle squeezes before letting it go as the door slid open. He stepped out, then held the door for me like he had before, letting me pull my cart out. He walked with me almost all the way to the break room before a shorter man with glasses stopped him.

“Lieutenant Marshall, can I speak with you in your office for a moment?” he asked.

“Of course.” Walter touched my shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said to me quietly before leaving for his office.

I continued on and was met by most of the detectives waiting for me. Like usual, they didn’t talk to me much, just thanking me for the food before taking their box and going. I took my time, hoping that by the time that I was done, the man speaking with Walter would be gone before I brought him his lunch. When I was done, I packed up my cart before taking Marshall’s boxed lunch and walked down the hall, finding the door to his office open. I could hear him talking still and wasn’t sure what to do. I’d made a deal with him a few weeks back to always bring his lunch to his office whenever I delivered - the first time was because a uniformed officer looked like he was going to swipe it, after that, it was to thank him for rescuing me from a pushy creep while I was with my ‘friends’. We’d never discussed if I should interrupt while he was working. I chewed my lip, debating what to do for several seconds before deciding to just take a chance and knock on the door frame. The worst case scenario was that I looked like a very dedicated delivery woman making sure that all of my orders reached their proper owners.

“Yep. Come in,” Walter called out in response to my knocking.

I entered his office only far enough to be seen and not a step further. I didn’t know if Marshall wanted people to know about us, so I was prepared to make a quick exit if I needed to. “I have a delivery for Detective Marshall,” I said.

He looked at me and smiled, then waved me in further. “Harper, this is Fiona Sparks. Fiona, this is Commissioner Harper.”

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you, sir,” I said.

“You, too.” He looked at me over the top of his glasses. “You don’t happen to be related to Rodger Sparks, by any chance?”

I felt speechless for a moment. I hadn’t heard anyone other than Mom say Dad’s name in months. Finally, I forced myself to nod. “Yes. He was my dad. How - how did you know?”

“We went to college together. You’re the spitting image of him,” he said. “I was sorry to hear about him passing away. I lost my wife around two years ago as well. A brain aneurysm.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t get any easier.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed.

He looked at me for a moment longer, then back to Marshall, who was standing patiently with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked back at me briefly before taking the folder he was holding and tapped it against Marshall’s shoulder. “You know what? This can wait until tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll bring it by in the morning.” He left Walter and stopped beside me before leaving the office. “I’m very sorry about your father. Rodger was a horrible sport when he lost at cards, but other than that, he was a great guy. And probably the smartest man I ever met.”

I smiled slightly. “He was a horrible sport at cards.”

He smiled back. “The worst.” He gave me a wink. “It was a pleasure seeing you.”

“You, too.”

When he left, he closed the door behind him. I looked at Marshall as he walked towards me. “Did I interrupt something important?” I asked.

“No. He was just asking about a cold case.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to come in since he was here. Next time, if you’re talking to someone, would you rather I left your lunch in the break room?”

He stopped in front of me. He was so close. He smelled like coffee and Old Spice. I swallowed thickly, trying to meet his gaze as he looked down at me. He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No. I’d still like you to bring it to me, please. If that’s alright?”

“Yeah, of course. I just don’t want to get in the way of your job.”

“You won’t,” he said. “But I’ve let my job get in the way of other things for too long, so maybe it’s time someone got in the way of it for a bit.”

“You have an important job, though. If you were a boat salesman, I might feel a little differently about disrupting your work.”

His smile grew as he tilted his head at me. “A boat salesman?”

“I mean a job where it wouldn’t really matter all that much if you were distracted every once in a while. If someone doesn’t sell a boat, it’s not that big of a deal. But if you don’t solve a murder case...that has very real repercussions. I wouldn’t want to be a reason for something slipping by in a case.”

He put his hand on my cheek, directing my eyes back to his. “That won’t happen,” he said. “I take my job seriously. That’s never been a problem for me. My problem has always been figuring out how to balance it with the rest of my life, which I never could, and I neglected a lot of people because of it. Especially Faye.” He shook his head. “I’m still not good at it. But I had a case back in the winter that...put Faye’s safety in jeopardy, among other things, and it made me realize that I need to put more of an effort in my life outside of this job. Despite how hard that is for me.” He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “You motivate me to slow down a bit. And that’s a good thing.”

I took my free hand and placed it over his, then turned my face slightly and placed a kiss on the inside of his wrist. “I would be happy to slow down with you,” I whispered.

Marshall had a smile that somehow showed in his eyes more than his mouth, and that’s how he was looking at me right then. “I’d like that.”

A knock on the door startled me. I took a step back, his hand falling from my cheek. He then ran it over his face, almost like he was trying to scrub the irritation of being interrupted off it. Then he folded his arms across his chest before calling out for whoever it was to come in.

The door opened and a man stepped up to the doorway. He was wearing plain clothes like Walter, so I assumed he was a detective, too. He all but ignored me as he and Walter spoke. Half of what they said was in a jargon I didn’t understand, so I just stood there, head down, waiting. After a few minutes, the guy left, only halfway closing the door as he did. When Marshall finally turned back to me, I could see that he was frustrated. I knew he wouldn’t admit it, but me being at his work right then was only going to cause more irritation with every interruption we had.

“As much as I hate it, I should probably get back to the shop. We have a big order going out tomorrow, so there’s quite a lot to do today to prepare for it,” I said. “Plus, I have a date with a very handsome detective tonight that I want to get ready for.”

The frustration on his face seemed to melt away as he looked at me with a smirk. “Is it anyone I know?”

“Possibly. He does work in your unit.”

“Is that so?” he asked. I nodded. “Well, if I see him around, I might have to have a talk with him.”

“And what would you say?”

“I’d tell him that he better be good to you because you deserve to be treated well.”

My stomach fluttered. “You can rest assured that he treats me very well. Better than any man ever has.”

“All those other men were idiots.”

I smiled. “Maybe so.”

He shook his head. “Definitely so.” He reached out and took his lunch from my hand, then turned and placed it on a filing cabinet behind him. “Will you let me help you to your car now?”

I nodded. “Yes, please.”

He put on his coat and followed me to the break room. He pulled my dolly for me, moving it like it was as light as a child’s toy. Even when we made it to the parking lot, he didn’t seem to have any issue with the wheels fighting against him. Then he picked it up and placed it in my trunk with ease, despite how I very often fought to get it back in. I thought about telling him that he was welcome to help me anytime he wanted, but I was afraid it wouldn’t come across as a joke and he would feel obligated to actually help.

“Thank you. You made my morning a lot easier,” I said after I closed the trunk. I looked at him. “I guess I’ll see you around five-thirty?”

He nodded. “I’ll call you when I leave here, but yeah, I should be there by then,” he said. “And I promise it’ll only be the two of us and no cheap pizza.”

“To be honest, I quite liked the pizza. It didn’t taste cheap. And I really, truly didn’t mind Faye joining us, but it'll be nice to have dinner with just you tonight,” I said. “But that reminds me - I put a copy of our cookie recipe for Faye in your lunch box.”

He smiled. “Thank you. She’ll be very excited about that.”

“You’re welcome. And let her know if she has any issues with it, she can call or text me.”

The crease between his eyebrows appeared as he looked at me thoughtfully. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve made them enough times over the last year and a half to make every mistake you can with them. If she has a problem, I can probably diagnose it over the phone.”

“You don’t mind her having your number?”

I felt my facial expressions mirroring his, but from confusion. “Of course I don’t mind. As long as you’re okay with it,” I said. “Unless you think your ex-wife would mind? I don’t want to step on her toes or anything.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think Angie would mind for that purpose, and I don’t have a problem with it. But I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I don’t but I’ll leave it up to you. If you’d feel more comfortable being the middleman you can always call me for her.” I gave him a big smile. “And I can help you practice the whole talking thing. Then it’s a two birds with one stone kind of deal.”

He smiled back, nodding his head. “And if she doesn’t need help?”

“You can still call.” I shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have to have a reason for calling. If I’m not at work, I’m usually pretty free. I may be cooking, or watching ‘The Golden Girls’ with Mom, but that’s about it,” I said. “I’m afraid you’re courting quite a socially boring person.”

He laughed. “I’m not sure if you’ve caught on, but I’m not exactly a sociable person, either,” he said. “So perhaps we make a good fit for each other.”

“Perhaps so,” I agreed. “We can be selectively social together.”

“Sounds good to me.”

I let out a sigh and watched my breath turn to steam in front of me. “I better let you get back to your paperwork and I need to go help Darcy at the store. We have over fifty loaves of bread to bake before the end of the day, so depending on when I get home, you may have to deal with your date smelling like freshly baked bread.”

He squinted slightly. “I’m not really opposed to that,” he joked with a smile that showed off the sharp ends of his canine teeth.

I laughed. “Good to know.”

He gave me a short hug, kissing my cheek as he pulled back. “I’ll see you this evening.”

“I’m looking forward to it.

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Walter Marshall #Walter Marshall fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #Night Hunter #Night Hunter fan fiction #Nomis #Nomis fan fiction #Henry Cavill fanfiction #Henry Cavill fanfic #detective walter marshall #Begin Again

165 notes · View notes

aprils-arcadia · 4 years

Text

Denial

Members: Kihyun, Changkyun, Wonho Genre: Fluff with a good deal of angst Word Count: 4,9k Summary: After your last relationship with Changkyun ended badly you are reluctant to give in to your feelings for your fellow freshman at college Kihyun.

“You know denial isn't going to help you.” Hoseok said, stuffing a handful of fries into his mouth. Like every Thursday before you found yourself at the usual cafeteria table with Hoseok.

“But denial and ignorance have been working so well.” You sighed, mindlessly poking your food with a fork.

Hoseok scoffed. “Ah, is that so?” He pointed at the fries in the middle of the round, run-down table. “That’s why you've been just staring at your food for the last ten minutes. You haven’t even noticed that I've been constantly stealing your fries.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Huh. Seems to work wonders.”

“Don't you sass me now. You know what’s awaiting me once I eat and get up from here.” You slumped back into your chair letting the fork clink against the plastic cafeteria tray. The food wasn't that bad. That much was clear by Hoseok wolfing it down without hesitation but right now you didn't feel like eating.

“Of course I do. That’s why I am trying my best to relentlessly bring up the topic so that you can finally suck it up and stop moping around.”

“But I don't know how. It's not as easy a decision to make. This isn't pizza vs. burger or gym vs. jogging.” You lifted your hands unethusicastically gesturing to your left and to your right, your eyes still transfixed on a rather nasty greyish spot on the ceiling. “It's… it's so much more difficult.”

“You'll have to face this sooner or later and by now you should know that sooner is the right way to go. You can't just hide out like this forever. And you can't try to deny that this is eating away at you, just like I am currently eating away all your fries, which for the record you still haven't stopped me from doing. If you aren't even possessive of your food anymore, who are you even?”

“Haha. Very funny." You leaned forward again, picking up a solitary fry that Hoseok had dropped onto the tray. "But seriously what should I do? Do you have any ideas?”

“Do you really want my advice? Like straight up blunt me telling you what I'm thinking?”

“Yeah, sure. Always.”

“You’ve told me quite a lot about that Changkyun guy by now and I can’t say I like him.” Hoseok’s tone of voice had turned serious and you could see that the casual mischievous air around him had vanished. “But apart from all that, if you would really still love him I don’t think you would have fallen for Kihyun.”

Silence.

He might be right. But on the other hand it's not like you could erase all the history you had with Changkyun either.

He had been your first real relationship, your first love. You had been so convinced that you two would live the happily-ever-after, the cliche “they meet in school and look at them still going strong”-movie stereotype, overcoming hardships together only to grow stronger as a couple.

But reality wasn't like this. Instead your Romeo and Juliet story turned into the annoying “on/off”, “are they/aren't they” cliche. You hadn’t heard from him or seen him and after the last fight you had, it's not like you could blame him but all that logic and rationality didn’t stop you from still loving that asshole no matter how many times your heart had been broken courtesy of him. And you still couldn't fight the feeling that even remotely thinking about Kihyun was cheating. That you were betraying the trust and the man you loved.

“When was the last time you spoke to that guy anyway?”

“6 months ago,” you admitted under your breath.

“6 months ago? I mean come on. You need to move on from this. That's just not healthy.”

You knew that Hoseok was right. It wasn't like you expected that Changkyun would come back to you, to show up at your dorm and begged you to take him back. That wasn't his style. Him calling you up at night and you hopelessly agreeing to meet with him was a thousand times more likely. Pathetic, you knew. But still.

"So why not see how things could go with Kihyun? He seems like a nice guy even though he might be a bit of a smartass at least from what I can tell.” Hoseok shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh I don't know it's not like I haven't thought about trying my luck with him and seeing where things would go. But I'm just feeling so guilty,” you said, reluctantly dipping your fry into the nearly empty ketchup.

“Yeah otherwise we wouldn't have to have this conversation almost every two days right before your two most beloved courses.”

This was both unbelievably true and painfully sarcastic. The two intro classes Hoseok talked about were indeed your favorite classes and finally gave you the feeling of having made the right choice in coming here. On the other hand they were also the ones where a certain someone was sitting next to you since the first week.

You had met Kihyun right after college started. You had just moved here a few days ago and the break up with Changkyun was still fresh, having happened only two weeks ago. But once you entered the college grounds you swore to leave that behind you. To leave it in the past and in the city you had left to come here. Which right at this moment did not seem to work out so well, you had to admit.

You were convinced, even if it was a bit naive, that this whole experience would change your life and that this is the perfect new start to get away from it all. Unfortunately this included your meticulous sleep schedule. Ever since the fallout with Changkyun you weren't able to really sleep. You spend the night scrolling through social media or God forbid your phone's gallery.

This wasn't helpful and you knew it.

The night before your first college day you had felt so utterly lonely that you couldn't help yourself. You deeply regretted having left and how things turned out with Changkyun. This wasn't how you wanted it to go but you also didn't know what would have been your ideal outcome. It was obvious that you and Changkyun had an expiration date. Hell, you have had so many of them in the past it was a wonder that you even made it this far. But somehow you always ended up with each other.

The topic of college had been looming over the two of you ever since your senior year of high school. He didn’t like the idea of you going to a different city and the thought of staying in the town you grew up in nauseated you. Your local community college had nothing to offer with all possible studies boring the hell out of you. You wanted change and a challenge and something that interested you. Changkyun never seemed to understand that. For him, you applying for other colleges felt like betrayal, that you were planning on leaving him, going somewhere where he didn’t know what you were up to, where he couldn't control who you hung out with.

So once the acceptance letters started to roll in the two of you fought on an almost daily basis. Somehow you had found the courage to tell him that you wanted to go to your current college and that you applied for a dorm room. He had just scoffed at that and told you that you wouldn't have the balls to leave anyway. That your little pampered, desperate self would not turn on him and leave. Two weeks ago you had finally gotten the approval for the dorm room. When you talked to Changkyun about trying to make this work long distance he completely flipped. You’ve had fights in the past, countless ones and he had broken up with you multiple times as well, but this was different.

This time it felt final. Irreversible.

He had left you a sobbing mess on the steps of your home, driving away way too fast in his car and skidding around the corner. You knew that he wouldn't come back. You knew that you wouldn't get the call. The call that he was sorry, the call that would make everything right again. You knew this wasn’t coming. But still you couldn’t comprehend that this was supposed to be the end. The real end.

You had sat on those steps for hours until your mother had finally come home and tried her best to get you inside. The rest of the day you spend asleep. Completely weak and dehydrated you fell into an uncomfortable sleep, only to wake up with tears still streaming down your face. You spend the week before leaving for college in a haze.

This wasn’t your usual coping mechanism.

You had stopped listening to music. This time around you didn’t drown your tears in Death Cab songs and ice cream wanting to be comforted by your friend and family. Instead you completely isolated yourself. You only ate when you were forced to and sleep didn’t come easy. Most nights you’d stared up at your bedroom’s ceiling, your mind completely empty but your body not letting you rest. It had felt like a part of you was missing that he literally had ripped out your beating heart where he stood. After a week you were only a shadow of yourself. You had packed for college with the help of your friend and moved into your dorm room. Sleep was still a rare commodity but you tried your best to start being hopeful about the future. You couldn't mope around forever and you shouldn’t let him ruin your first week of college.

But here you laid, not being able to sleep. The dorm room was dark and empty, the shadows from the trees outside dancing on the walls. Instead of trying to close your eyes you had grabbed your phone, the bright light of the screen hurting your eyes in the beginning. Looking at the pictures on your phone didn't make your feeling of crushing loneliness any better. On the contrary. It hurt. It hurt like hell. Knowing that the man you loved so much was done with you. Over you. Living life without you, like you never happend.

Luckily your roommate hadn’t moved in yet so no one was able to hear you sniffle and ultimately cry yourself to sleep at 4 a.m.

The next day you woke up to the loud noise from the hallway having ignored your alarm clock twice. Now you only had 15 minutes left to get dressed and rush to the lecture hall. One quick look in the mirror confirmed what you had dreaded all along. You looked like sh*t. You had wanted to start college bright-eyed and optimistic but those were not the kind of bright eyes you were looking for. You had no chance of wearing your contacts like this. Awesome. The cute first day of college outfit you had laid out the night before stared at you almost in disappointment and you grumpily grabbed your black-rimmed glasses out of the drawer and quickly put your hair up in a messy bun, brushing this bird’s nest of hair would have been a waste of time.

You rushed out of your dorm and onto the quad. Fortunately you already checked the way yesterday so instead of being completely lost you were able to just sprint across campus at full speed. Even though you earned a few “heys” and even one “Run, Forrest, run” you were able to make it in time. You hurried inside and tried to catch your breath as good as possible. Most of the seats were taken, everyone shows up for the first one, you thought.

You had found an empty seat in the back of the lecture hall and sat down as unnoticeable as you could. The young man next to you gave you a quick smile and a nod and then focussed back onto his notebook again. You pulled out your own notebook and the lecture began with your professor introducing himself and outlining the following semester before diving straight into the basic concepts that will be needed for the rest of the course.

You tried your hardest to focus but your mind tended to wander back to what you gave up to be here, if giving up was even the right word, and how your finger had hovered over Changkyun’s number time and time again the night before. You choked back the uncomfortable feeling that was forming in the back of your throat. You needed to concentrate. You brushed your thoughts aside as best as you could and focused on the blackboard.

Nothing. You couldn't make out a single word. Great. If you couldn’t even copy the blackboard you may as well just leave. You squinted at the blackboard in an attempt to decipher the words as your professor was writing them. What he's talking about should give you some clues but still the smudges remained. If you could have just worn your contacts then this wouldn't have happened but no, you petty excuse for a human being had to cry yourself to sleep and were now forced to run around like a mole with those humongous glasses of yours that let's be fair here, didn't do sh*t.

You sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of your nose. All the squinting has achieved was give you a mild headache and your notepad was still as blank as it could be apart from you writing the course name at the top. Just as you were starting to lean back in your chair and resigned to just listening, an unfamiliar notebook appeared at your side, nudging your arm.

"You can copy mine, if you'd like. That prof’s handwriting is like trying to read hieroglyphs."

You looked to your left and saw the guy next to you slide his notebook across.

"Oh and I took the liberty of correcting all his typos. You can be lucky that you don't have to deal with those cringe-worthy mistakes."

You chuckled slightly. It’s been days since you even smiled about anything, having forced all of them since the break-up. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

"No worries," the young man whispered. “I’m Kihyun by the way”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N,” he said and smiled brightly.

His profile and jawline were sharp and he dressed unbelievably well. The sleeves of his button-down were rolled up to his elbows and his dark brown hair had a slight undercut. He was attractive to say the least. How could you not have noticed this when you first sat down. Ah yeah, you probably were feeling way too sorry for yourself at that time.

You quickly copied the notes and gave it back to him.

“Thanks again, I owe you one.”

"Nah. You're very welcome. But if you insist a coffee would be more than sufficient."

The next week you had finally been able to wear your contacts again. Thursday evening you had met the lovable idiot that was Hoseok. He’d spend the majority of the weekend listening to you cry your eyes out in the dorm common room. It was so easy to open up to him and maybe just maybe this was exactly what you needed. Someone who didn’t know the whole story who was completely impartial to hear your side of things. Talking to him made your shoulders a little lighter and he had made it his mission to make you feel better, to make you feel welcome and comfortable. He tried his best to get some nutritious food in you and forced you to join his Sunday morning jog.

The next day with your legs almost numb and a chipper, way too awake Hoseok by your side you arrived at the nearby coffee shop. It was a tiny cafe that was frequented mostly by the students and therefore it was usually packed at this time of day. Hoseok looked around the shop anxiously until his eyes met the ones of the guy sitting at the corner table.

“I gotta go. I don’t wanna keep Hyungwon waiting.”

“Hot date?” you said, eyeing the tall young man that was smiling sleepily at Hoseok and waved.

“Hell yes,” he replied and hurried off towards the other corner of the cafe. You took your two coffees from the counter and headed towards the lecture hall. Once you arrived you let your gaze wander through the rows until you spotted the only familiar face in the room.

“Good morning,” you said as you sat down and placed the cup of iced americano in front of Kihyun. “As promised.”

“Oh hey, thank you. I was wondering if you might have forgotten about me since you ignored me on Thursday.”

“Thursday? Where?” You fidgeted in your brain to try and remember where you could have seen him, but last week you were running on autopilot most of the time, without ever really registering your surroundings.

“Oh so you really didn’t even notice me. I was sitting like three people over in intro to media theory.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was spacing out a lot last week. I’m really sorry.”

“Well at least I know you didn’t forget me,” he said, taking the cup and nudged it against your own. ”Thanks again. That should help us not fall asleep.”

“I do hope so,” you said smiling as you started to sip your coffee.

“It doesn’t seem like you’ll need my perfectly-taken notes this time around,” Kihyun added, gesturing towards your non-existent glasses. “I gotta admit though I kinda miss the glasses.” You laughed shyly. “They looked cute on you.” Kihyun turned towards the blackboard as your professor started to speak up. “But I’m glad you look a little healthier this week,” he said mostly to himself but you were just able to catch it.

After unenthusiastically eating the remaining fries on your plate you got up, to make your way to your next course.

“So have you made up your mind?” Hoseok said leaning against a nearby wall, waiting for you.

“Of course I haven’t,” you said as you let the wrappers slide off your tray and into the trash can. “And he probably isn’t that interested in me anyway.”

“Excuse me? Do you remember that one time he asked you out and you straight up invited me along?” Hoseok rolled his eyes at you. “Yeah sure, he isn’t interested in you. And also to get back to our earlier discussion if that wasn't denial I don't know what was.”

“That wasn't denial. I literally didn't get it." You tried to look and sound as convincing as you could but Hoseok probably already saw through that. "And seriously ‘hang out’ is just not the language I associate with asking out," you added defensively.

“Oh come on. You were just scared out of your wits and panicked. Don't you try and wiggle your way out of this now,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder guiding your way out of the cafeteria and into the hallway.

“Not fair and do you have any idea how long ago I went on a date last. Like a real asking out, whole shabang, first date?” You brushed off his hand from your shoulder and looked at him in all seriousness.

"No idea, but I’m gonna presume it was AGES ago" Hoseok answered dramatically.

"Correct. I had like one first date in my life and that was Changkyun." You didn't like to admit this but it was the truth. He was your first, your first for basically everything.

“Are you sure you just didn't realize the other ones were dates"

“Stop it for God's sake. Shouldn't I know that?”

“Not if you were as dense then as you are now.” Hoseok winked at you and slid into the classroom to your right. “See you later.”

“Smartass,” you added quickly and stuck out your tongue. Unfazed by your childish action Hoseok blew you a kiss through the closing door.

“He’s such an idiot.” He was a pain in the ass but you were thankful for Hoseok. He always found a way to cheer you up but was also by your side with advice and an open ear, everytime you needed him. You walked to your own lecture hall with timid steps, lost in thought.

It’s been six months since you’ve last heard from Changkyun.

No texts, no calls, no updates on social media.

In fact you couldn’t even see his posts anymore, maybe he straight up blocked you. He probably was happy without you and better off. And you really had to face the fact that you yourself were happy here as well. That your life might not have turned out the picture perfect way you wanted it to be but you had found friends that supported and loved you and you were enjoying your studies tremendously. The only thing that was in the way was that damned guilty consciousness of yours and the nostalgia of a past albeit failed relationship.

Changkyun wasn’t coming back and even if he was you shouldn’t fall for it because time and time again you should have been taught that this relationship was going nowhere. You were like oil and water, you could force them to be together for a while but slowly they would drift apart again. You guys weren’t made for each other and every other fight had proven that. He was overly jealous and you were too timid to really speak your mind. He was your first relationship, the one you wanted to treasure for the rest of your life but as Hoseok said it just wasn’t healthy. Not in the slightest.

Going to college might have been the fallout you two needed to start living a life not dependent on each other, to be able to move on and to find your own happiness and a relationship where you were an equal and where you wouldn’t have to fear for your relationship every time you went out with friends. Changkyun was probably over you already anyway, it never took him long to prove to you that he didn't need you.

So why, why on earth were you still limiting yourself.

Why were you still in any way being considerate to this ass. The ass that made out with your friend in front of you just to prove a point. The ass that left you standing in the rain after a fight having to walk home for an hour. The ass that never treated you right. You lifted your head and straightened your back. He wasn’t worth it and more importantly you were worth so much more.

Once you stepped out onto the quad and towards the lecture hall you felt a gentle touch on your back.

“Hey, Y/N.” The soft voice unmistakably belonged to Kihyun. “Glad I caught up with you before the lecture began.”

He couldn't have picked a better time. Right when all your thoughts were jumbled and you were trying to untie it even slightly, he shows up. Right on time to throw all your progress overboard. Right on time to make you question everything you thought you had figured out.

“Hey Kihyun, ready for the lecture?” you replied as unfazed as you could muster.

“Please, when am I not.”

You laughed. Hoseok was right, he could be quite the smartass.

“But that’s not why I tried to catch up with you.”

“Okay…”

“Can we talk for a second?” He stopped walking and now stood before you.

“Yeah sure, what’s up?” Now you were straight up scared. ‘Can we talk’ never was a good thing. Your stomach twisted and you felt the nervousness slowly rise inside of you.

“I talked to Hoseok the other day and I think this might be the best idea.” So many questions rushed through your head. Kihyun talked to Hoseok? They were close? You had only seen them together like once apart from the times you forced those two together. Hoseok couldn’t have possibly snitched on you, right?

“I just thought that he might help me out or give me some advice since you two seemed to be very close.”

“Okay…” This could only go wrong. Definitely only go wrong. “What did he tell you?”

“To be honest he just told me to man up and suck it up.” Kihyun laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. His light brown hair refracted the light and some strands glowed golden in the early spring sun.

“That does sound like him.” You smiled and noticed that Kihyun had started to avoid eye contact which was something he never seemed to have a problem with. Instead his eyes were all over the place, continuously wandering from your eyes downwards to then dart into a completely different direction.

You had probably never seen him so flustered and it made you uneasy. Over time you had gotten so used to Kihyun’s normal overconfidence but now he seemed self-conscious and even a bit vulnerable.

“It seems like nothing has really worked so far. So I feel like if I’m not gonna make it very simple you would brush over it again and just bring me coffee to class instead of going with me to the cafe I had in mind. Or bring Hoseok along with you to the mall.” He chuckled a bit and you were terrified of what he would say next.

He took a deep breath.

“I like you Y/N.”

There it was. Out in the open. Something you had tried to deny for longer than you should be comfortable with. There you had your answer. And now there was no way you could ignore it. He was able to muster the courage to tell you and you were always trying your best not wanting to face this possibility.

Kihyun finally found your eyes again and you tried your best to not have your face be an open book, telling him every little detail that was going through your mind. The war inside your head, the shouting, the panic and the overall chaos of you trying to decide what to do.

Again he averted his look but this time you finally realized where his eyes were trailing off to as yours started to do the same. His lips were parted slightly and ever so slowly you felt the distance between the two of you closing, right now you weren’t in control anymore as your body felt to be moving on it’s own until his face was only inches away from your own.

Right before you closed yours you took one look into his stunning dark brown eyes, and the different shades of brown that were mixed in there, invisible unless you stared directly into them.

He kissed you softly and finally, finally in forever your mind was quiet.

No guilt, no anxiety, just the warm feeling of joy spreading through your body.

He placed his hand tentatively on your cheek and your heart skipped more than just one beat. The soft touch of his lips and the warmth of his hand left you completely helpless. You wanted this moment to last forever, to not let go, but instead Kihyun pulled away from you. His face was slightly blushed and you could still feel his lips faintly on yours. His hand lingered on your cheek and his thumb continued to caress your cheek bone gently. He looked at you for a while, taking in what had just happened, before he spoke up again.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“I think you already have your answer,” you said and grabbed his collar drawing him in into another kiss, this time less timid than the one before.

Who you loved, you weren’t sure. But you didn’t have to be. Whatever part of your brain told you that you would have to decide right then and there if you loved Kihyun and if you really didn’t have any feelings left for Changkyun could just shut the hell up. You were so focussed on this question that you completely forgot how life really works. He didn’t say “I love you” simply because he couldn’t even know that yet. So why did you expect from yourself to be able to answer it already. Yes, part of you still loved Changkyun and would probably do so till the day that you die but that couldn’t stop you from liking Kihyun, from wanting to know more about him, from waiting to spend more time with him, from wanting to find out where this could lead you.

So no, you didn’t know who you loved but you’d find out, in your own time, at your own pace.

#mx #mostax #fanfiction #monstax fanfiction #changkyun #im #Kihyun #Wonho #changkyun angst #fkihyun fluff #changkyun x reader #kihyun x reader #aprils fanfiction #aprils arcadia

40 notes · View notes

teedeenobody · 4 years

Text

Trent/Eva friendship hcs

Trent has been in therapy for his OCD since he was like 13

He was kind of shy and emo all his childhood/middle school

And struggling with mental illness definitely made him push people away even more bc he thinks they won’t accept him

His grandfather died and his parents divorced in the same year a few years before, and since then he had been on a steep spiral

He’s closer to his mom and lives with her most of the time, and she finally got him into counseling for grief, depression, and of course OCD when he’s 13 because she realized he needed it (he’d already had ocd before but those traumatic events exacerbated his symptoms)

He doesn’t really respond to any of it, he’s uninterested and actively against therapy and doesn’t think he can be helped

But then he’s introduced to art/music therapy because his therapist thinks it may be helpful especially for him

He immediately feels like “this is what I’ve been missing”

Originally he just was doing music/learning guitar to get his therapist off his back but he realized he really enjoyed it and it made him feel better in a way he’d never considered it could and it was a healthy coping mechanism

He finally has something to be passionate about

He starts opening up at school and making friends

He doesn’t seek to be cool, but his personality and being more confident and secure with himself attract other people to like him

He’s having a good time

He still likes emo music and aesthetic, but it no longer has to go hand in hand with a self-destructive mentality

His dad and stepdad are kinda strict and anti-art

They’re a lawyer and an accountant who met at work after his parents’ divorce

His biological dad (the accountant) wants Trent to be one too and not be distracted by music and other non-profitable skills

But they see how much music means to him so they eventually come around to it

THIS BRINGS US TO TOTAL DRAMA:

Eva has never gotten any sort of help for her anger issues

She’s a first generation Russian immigrant and she’s been in the spotlight since she was little, which has taken a toll on her

She hates doing movie stunts, she just wants to do sports without having to manage fame and sleazy paparazzi

She’s been written off as “just like that” by her parents

But she recognizes that she needs to control her temper, but she cant do it on her own

She wants to win total drama because that money can help her get treatment and she doesn’t see any other way because her parents are in charge of her finances and legally own all the money she got as a child star

She is so mad when she is voted off so early, but she knows she has to work on herself

But she has no coping skills

Trent comes to playa de losers bummed but overall okay with the experience because he knows he can make things right with Gwen

He sees how Eva is and how she seems miserable over the days he’s there

He goes up to talk to her because he’s a nice person

She is standoffish at first and doesn’t want anything to do with him

So he backs off

But eventually she is like “yeah I’m very alone I need to talk to someone” so she does and she confides in Trent

He talks about how he has gone through similar experiences with mental illness and feeling alone

They bond over this

They become friends

Trent shows Eva music because it helped him through a lot and teaches her how to play guitar like he can

She is surprisingly good at it and she’s a very fast learner

She has always liked physical expressions of emotion but this one is constructive instead of destructive

She uses music to learn how to channel her anger

Eventually she also starts using physicality/exercise as constructive and healthy coping mechanisms too with the same skills that Trent taught her to use music in that way

Her other skill, strength, is something that she has had commercialized and publicized from a young age in movie stunts. Music becomes something that is just for her, something she doesn’t have to share and she can just appreciate and do for fun without pressure

She and Trent are good friends and they have deep conversations about anything and everything

Eventually Eva admits to him her crush on Izzy

He’s like “I have an idea” and he helps her write a meaningful song to show her how she feels

She performs it for Izzy and thanks Trent for helping her find confidence outside of the spotlight

The end :) this is all canon they just didn’t show it in total drama bc it was cut for time don’t fact check this just trust me on this one

#Eva/Trent friendship would be so good :(#don’t tell me helping friends cope with mental illness isn’t so good #it’s like when you get therapy and start dealing your therapy to your friends who can’t afford it #is that a universal experience? if not lol #but I have had that experience #so I am projecting on characters I like #total drama #total drama eva #trent total drama #Eva total drama #total drama Trent

20 notes · View notes

pastpatientlywaitingforimagines · 4 years

Text

Andromeda | Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 1865

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR 03x05 AND THE SECOND HALF OF SEASON 12, prison Reid, mentions of trauma/anxiety/therapy.

A/N: Remember this post? I was talking about this fic. Anyways, the concept of both Spencer and Reader being groomed for the BAU was one that intrigued me so I wrote this. One day I’ll get tired of writing for this universe but today is not that day. Enjoy!

GALAXY MASTERLIST (not needed to understand the plot but there’s similar content here if you liked this fic!)

You had seen a lot of bad things in your life, but hands down the worst thing you had ever seen was Spencer Reid sitting on the other side of the partition in the prison visiting room. As always your proximity to the doctor cleared your head and relaxed you in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks, but due to the circumstances you knew it was only because he was alive.

“I don’t like this,” you wasted no time making your feelings known.

“I know, me neither,” even though he was alive, you could tell your friend was in rough shape, “how are you doing?”

You breathed a laugh, “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m the same as I was when Garcia visited last week, and we both know she called you as soon as she left here.”

He was right, Penelope had filled you in on everything he had said when she had gone for her visit the week prior.

“Have you gone back to work yet?”

“Yeah, but I’m still not allowed in the field. My therapist keeps telling Emily I’m compromised,” you rolled your eyes, “I think being back in the field would help me compartmentalize better than doing paperwork in Penelope’s office.”

“What have you been doing outside of work?”

“Has my therapist talked to you too? Yeesh,” you rolled your eyes again, causing Spencer to crack a smile, “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Luke, he reminds me of some of the guys from my Platoon. He lets me watch Roxy when the team is traveling, and we go to a veteran’s support group every Tuesday. I don’t think he actually needs the support but he definitely knows I don’t go if he’s not there.”

Spencer sighed, “support groups are good, is it helping?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “I already did the work to cope with my time in the military years ago. The problem isn’t my military trauma, the problem is that my best friend is in prison and the constant anxiety is dredging up old wounds.”

Your eyes narrowed, aware that he was definitely doing a light psych eval of you in that brain of his. You half expected him to start spouting exactly what was happening in your brain that was causing the increased frequency of your episodes, but it never came.

“Will you keep going, for me?”

“Sure, but only because you asked. And if Luke says anything about it you can’t tell him I don’t think it’s working.”

“Deal,” the light banter was the most normal thing that had happened to you since bringing Spencer home from Mexico.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I know you’re a super genius and everything, but do you ever feel like you weren’t cut out for the BAU even though you were groomed for it?”

“Yeah, I had to get waived on every physical part of training and failed my gun certification an embarrassing number of times even after I was hired. I wouldn’t have gotten the job if Gideon didn’t do some serious vouching for me. Do you… do you feel like that?” You thought it was ironic that Spencer was concerned for you when he was the one in jail.

“Out of everyone in my class at the Academy, Rossi and Hotch picked me. There were at least four other agents that were better at profiling than I was, I was not the obvious choice. My entire career has been defined by joining the BAU and yet I still get hit with some serious imposter syndrome, especially since you’ve been gone. Sometimes I wonder where I would have ended up if I hadn’t been picked, what kind of agent I’d be.”

“You would have ended up with the Hostage Rescue Team,” you knew Spencer was a know-it-all, but you were surprised at his confidence and quick response.

“How do you figure?” you questioned, watching the tips of his ears turn red as he blushed.

“Garcia and I overheard Hotch and Rossi talking about you when they came back from recruiting. We did some… ‘spelunking’ and found your file.”

“Anything juicy in there?” you teased, thoroughly amused at the image of Spencer and Penelope huddled around her desk investigating you.

“No. It said you were ex-military and had been psychologically discharged. We didn’t dig deeper into that, but I could see signs of anxiety the first time I met you so it wasn’t really going to be a secret anyways.”

“Fair, so how did you know about Hostage Rescue?”

“There was a note from their unit chief that they wanted you. It makes sense, you passed the field tests in the Academy with flying colors and you’re exceptional in the field. You would do really well on a tactical team.”

“In theory, until I have a panic attack and get thirty people killed,” you joked, “they probably asked Hotch to take me because I’d have the smallest chance of being a liability in the BAU.”

“Actually, Hotch said he liked how you had approached the exercise they had given you.”

You remembered that day like it was yesterday, Hotch and Rossi had come into your class with the bare bones of a case: an abducted child in a mall a week following a prior abduction of a similar nature. As a collective you had to solve the case, asking the right questions to get the information you needed from the two Supervisory Special Agents.

Your previously mentioned classmates that had a knack for profiling were quick to build a few theories and get a bit more information, including a glimpse of the girl on a security camera, but there were still a lot of missing pieces. Something about the whole thing felt off to you, so you finally spoke up.

“What if it was someone in her family?” Your classmates looked at you in confusion, a few of them jumping up to reiterate the evidence against your suggestion. “I see your point, and I’ll support the group if you still think I’m wrong, but hear me out. There’s evidence of the abduction being personal. I don’t think it’s related to the prior case at all.”

“The family has been with us the whole time,” one of your classmates argued.

“The father?” someone else suggested.

“No, not him,” your brain was working hard, “I think it was the aunt, Susan.”

“Well done, Agent,” you heard Agent Hotchner over the clamor of the room at your suggestion.

“Do you want to back up your theory?” Rossi asked once your classmates had settled down.

“Her husband shows signs of grooming Katie: he knows more about his niece than he does his own kid. If his wife noticed, she might be trying to protect her family. She was probably ashamed that her husband was a pedophile, her son had a record, and her marriage was falling apart. Susan already said she worked retail in a mall, even if she didn’t work at this mall she’d at least have knowledge of how malls work and where she could hide a body. The abduction from the previous week would have given her something to pin Katie’s disappearance on, and Katie would have trusted her enough to go somewhere without an obvious struggle.”

“Bingo, Agent…?” Rossi looked at you for your name.

“(y/l/n),” you offered.

“Susan took her own pain out on Katie. Our agents were able to recover Katie’s body and resuscitate her, and both Susan and her husband were brought into custody.”

Later, as class was dismissed, you were approached by the two men.

“What was it that made you look deeper into the family as suspects?” Hotch had asked.

“I just had a feeling, sir,” you told him honestly.

“What kind of feeling?” Rossi seemed genuinely interested in what you were saying.

“A gut feeling. I know we’re supposed to use the facts, and all the facts were presenting themselves as becoming a serial abduction, but it just didn’t feel right to me. When I started exploring other possibilities the relevant evidence jumped right out.”

“Sometimes we get cases with barely enough information to make decisions from. Following instincts can lead to breakthroughs that solve the whole case. Keep up the good work,” Hotch shook your hand before walking away with Rossi right behind him.

“Yeah, I went out on a limb with that one. I’ll tell you about it later,” you shook your head, knowing you didn’t have enough time to tell Spencer the whole story. He was quiet for a minute, glancing around the room before he spoke again.

“If I can’t get out of here, I think you should look into transferring to Hostage Rescue.”

“You’re not serious, are you? You’re getting out of here. I’m seeing to it personally,” you said it like it was a fact. His face told you he wasn’t kidding.

“Let me ask you this- if I’m found guilty at my trial, how are you going to take it?”

You wanted to tell him you would be fine and continue to fight for his freedom, but you both knew there was a reason your therapist wasn’t clearing you for field work that would only get worse if your best friend had to serve upwards of 25 years in jail.

The BAU without Spencer Reid just wouldn’t be the same BAU you fell in love with when Hotch and Rossi had hired you all those years ago.

“Do you really think the brass would approve a transfer to an anti-terrorism tactical unit when I can’t even get cleared for field work now?” you countered.

“I do. Your coping mechanisms are well developed. If you separate yourself from the BAU… and me… I think you could pass their psych eval just fine. And everyone knows your tactical skills are off the charts, even after you’ve taken time off.”

“You’re not a very good genius if you think you can get rid of me that easily,” you were quick to point out, “even if I did transfer, I’d still be here as much as possible. Penelope wouldn’t let me cut myself off that easily from the rest of the team either.”

“Just think about it, please.”

You sighed, “I’ll think about it, but I’m still holding out that we’re proving your innocence and you and I will be back to our shenanigans in no time.”

“I’m looking forward to it. How’s my mom doing?”

“She’s been ok, I visit every day and JJ usually comes with me. Cassie’s been really great for her,” you told him.

“Good, will you tell her I-“

“Prisoners line up!” a guard yelled.

“Will you tell her I love her?” Spencer said quickly as he stood. You nodded, watching as he lined up with the other inmates and walked away.

As you left the prison you told yourself you were never getting used to this, and you were going to start working double time on proving Spencer’s innocence. There was no family like your BAU family, and whoever had framed Spencer was not going to destroy that so easily.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #platonic soulmates #platonic imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

77 notes · View notes

doctoraliceharvey · 4 years

Note

hey, could you write malice where matthew gets angry (not necessarily with her but in general) and how alice deals with this because it’s been implied before that she can’t deal with shouting?

uuuuh this got long, but I hope you enjoy it and I really enjoyed exploring this entire aspect of Matthew and Alice.

it's of a different fic (and felt like it took me forever to actually write it), but honestly the idea of actually exploring a little of WHY Matthew yells and how that could affect a potential relationship with Alice was too interesting to pass up. The working title of this fic was "Matthew Goes to Therapy" and honestly most characters on this show probably should, but I'm very proud of Matthew actually sitting down with his feelings and anger and dealing with them. Please enjoy! - Dee

tw: mentions of abuse

Flowers In The Darkest Part of My Mind

AO3 | FF.NET

-----

"What brought you here?"

Matthew sighed as he shifted on the couch; it was a comfortable couch and Matthew had gotten to know it over the past few weeks of coming to Dr. Graves, but at his question, suddenly Matthew felt like he had at the beginning: out of place.

"Matthew?"

Glancing over at the doctor - a tall, quiet man about Matthew's age with his dark grey hair starting to go white - Matthew sighed again.

"There was… an incident."

"What sort of incident?"

"One of the constables - a little green around the gills, no fault of his own - messed up on a case and it happened that I was… stressed out that day. I'd been stressed quite a bit before this incident, but this was the day it all just kind of… blew up. A… friend and colleague overheard the yelling and… she pulled away from me because of it. Alice… I won't say much because I also don't know much, but she… didn't have a happy childhood and I'd seen the way she was like when someone raised their voice or moved too quickly towards her."

"Ah," Dr. Graves nodded as he jotted down a few notes. "So, Alice pulled away?"

"Yes, she stopped coming by the house for dinner, stopped bantering with me at work, only doing the bare minimum in interacting with me or the police, so… after talking with Jean - who knows a lot more of Alice's past - I realized Alice was afraid of me… of my anger."

"And that's not something you want?"

Matthew shook his head, "I don't think it's something I've wanted for a long time. Besides scaring Alice, who's a close friend… I'm just tired of being so angry for so long. Angry at my father, angry at my past, angry at Lucien, angry at the higher ups, angry at the world… God, I'm just so tired."

"Hm, interesting."

He liked Dr. Graves; the psychologist never pushed and had a sort of eclectic way of looking at the world - it almost was like he'd found another "Alice" and found it easy to talk to the man, regardless if he'd been nervous at first.

The way Alice had looked at him after running into him in the hallway once he'd been through with carpeting the constable, the way her eyes were wide, scared, and how she'd stepped back from him - flinched, really - confused him; they'd gotten through so much and had started to fall back into the friendship both enjoyed prior to Lucien going missing, that her pulling back so suddenly frustrated him.

It wasn't until Alice didn't show up for dinner a few nights in a row, that he finally turned to Jean for her input.

"You remember the day you were reaming out the constable?" She'd asked him quietly as the tea steeped between them.

"I do."

"You weren't in the bullpen with us, but… Alice was shaking."

"Shaking?"

"Yes, she'd come by to drop off a report and was chatting with me and Peter when you started in; I nearly thought she would faint dead right then and there."

He couldn't picture Alice close to fainting, but Jean looked serious.

"She couldn't hide the way her hands shook or the paleness of her cheeks, so I told her to go outside for fresh air."

"I ran into her on her way out, and she flinched from me, Jean. She's… she's never done that before even before we really knew each other."

"But you don't know each other, not… I mean, you're close, but there's still so much you don't know about Alice and things she doesn't know about your past."

Matthew pulled at his hair as he ran a hand through it; letting out a frustrated sigh, he watched Jean pour them tea.

"What am I missing, Jean? I don't… I don't want it to be like this, I… I miss her."

Jean continued to pour the tea and fix their cups to their liking - staying quiet for a long time (and Jean could draw out her silences when she liked to) before she took a sip and sighed.

"I think… I think Alice was startled and got scared… by your anger, Matthew."

"My anger?"

"The yelling."

Scrubbing his face with his hand, Matthew frowned, "But… why?"

"That's probably for Alice to tell you, but… from what I can tell she didn't have an easy childhood. Lucien and Charlie once mentioned she'd told a suspect that she 'didn't need protecting since she was twelve years old'... I'll let you speculate as to why."

Matthew sighed, a tired, weary sigh, and leaned his head in his hand; he'd seen enough children abused by their parents to hazard a guess (hell, he'd been through some with his father), and the flinching, the startled, almost deer-in-headlights look Alice got when she'd overheard his yelling started to make a little more sense.

"Oh, Christ."

Jean hummed and pushed his tea towards him, "So… I suppose to fix this… you might need to do some thinking and reflecting."

At that he huffed a silent laugh, "Thinking never helped me get anywhere… just leads me in circles."

"Then maybe you need someone to help guide you… your brother-in-law works in the field of psychology, does he not?"

"Yeah, but I don't think I could tell him all about this… I know there are things that Vera never told him about our past and I don't want to drive a wedge between them. Vera's moved on as much as she could."

"Then see if he has a friend or colleague who might be open to new patients."

Matthew sighed again as Jean patted his hand and he stared off into space as he mechanically sipped at his tea - not really tasting it as Jean started on cleaning up the kitchen post-dinner. Would he really do this? Could he really do this? Go and talk to a stranger about… well, everything?

If he didn't, would he lose Alice?

And so, here he was, a few weeks later after a few days of self-reflection and knowing something needed to drastically change in order for his world to right itself; Matthew reached out to his brother-in-law, Daniel Anderson, and found someone to help him figure out where to go from there.

Doctor Maxwell Graves was certainly an interesting choice, but Matthew liked how he made him feel at ease even when asking deeply probing questions about his past, his father - everything, really. Through the psychologist, Matthew was able to take the demons of his past and shrink them down into more manageable battles; he gave Matthew new tools to work with - a journal, counting to himself when he found his anger rising, breathing exercises - and never judged Matthew if he fell a little behind or had to reschedule. The practice he ran with his wife - also a psychologist who tended to see the women of the practice, and specialized in victims of abuse - had become a place of comfort to Matthew in the weeks since his last outburst.

"Matthew?"

"Hm?" Matthew felt his cheeks grow warm, realizing he'd drifted off into his thoughts for far too long.

"What were you thinking of?"

"Just… just how much everything's gotten better since I started coming to see you, Doc."

At that, Dr. Graves smiled. "I'm glad to hear it, and I think that I've finally figured out the source of all of this."

"Really?" Matthew sat up slightly to make eye contact with the doctor. "What is it?"

"I don't think your anger is actually anger, I think it's grief."

"Grief?" That wasn't what Matthew was expecting to hear at all.

"Mm-hm," his psychologist nodded. "I think it's grief that you never let yourself feel; grief for your childhood, grief for your father, grief for your friend, Lucien. It comes out as anger, but I think you're lashing out from a place of sadness and hurt."

"I understand that part, but… I also get angry when things are unfair… is that also grief?"

"In a way, it's grief stemming from your immense capacity for empathy; you're sad - and angry - at the world because you genuinely wish it could be a better place and through all you've seen at work it feels like you haven't made a difference at all. You get stuck on all the things that haven't changed, all the good that hasn't been done instead of the good impact you've had, that it builds up and lashes out on unsuspecting constables."

Matthew chuckled, "I suppose that makes sense… does that change anything?"

"Not really," Dr. Graves smiled. "Same sort of coping mechanisms, but also allow yourself to feel everything… don't hold back if you need to grieve or cry or whatever when a case gets to you, or something happens in your life; and of course I'll be here for you to talk to - in person or over the phone if it's particularly bad."

"Hm…"

"I know it sounds very simple, and also goes against everything you've been told growing up about how to be a man, but allowing yourself to feel is a lot harder than it sounds. It takes quite a bit of bravery, but I assure you it'll be better for you, your emotions, and your relationships in the long run."

"I'll try, Doc."

Dr. Graves patted his shoulder, "That's all I ever ask, Matthew. Now, continue your journaling, work on the breathing exercises, and allow yourself to truly feel something this week besides frustration or anger."

Matthew snorted a laugh, but shook Dr. Graves' hand as he stood. "Thanks, Doc. I should get back to Ballarat."

"Have a safe trip, and, Matthew?"

"Yeah?"

"I would tell your Alice about all of this… it sounds like you really care for her and I think she should know the effort you've been making to deal with your anger."

Matthew nodded and headed out of Dr. Graves office with a lighter heart. It was still hard work to confront his past and unlearning old habits, but he deserved better.

(And so did everyone around him)

-----

Alice felt lost; this wasn't the first time (nor the last time), but this time she felt it much more keenly than before. It all started with a letter.

She didn't know how they'd found her; she'd left that life long ago - as well as her sister - and wanted nothing to do with her parents. Alice battled with the urge to read the letter or to simply throw it in the fireplace - the very sight of the return address bringing up memories that were never far from her nightmares. They affected her sleep, which affected how she came across to people, and Alice could tell Jean was starting to notice, when that fateful day in the station happened.

Her emotions were already holding on by a tightly wound string, and to hear Matthew yelling in that way had violently shook her to the core; his voice morphed into that of her father's - the letter still burning an image in her mind - and Alice tried to hide the way her knees suddenly grew weak and threatened to give out underneath her.

"Alice?"

"I'm fine," she'd tried to smile - to reassure both Jean and Peter.

"You're as white as a sheet, let's get you out for some air, hm?"

Flinching just a little away from her friend's grasp, Alice shook her head, "I… I can find it on my own, thank you."

All but running from the bullpen, and away from the questions that would arise if she stayed any longer, Alice gasped when she nearly ran into Matthew.

"Alice?" he reached for her and she flinched away - her mind not knowing the difference between him and her father, all it urged her to do was to get out of the building, to run to where it was safe.

'Matthew is safe though,' she tried to tell herself, but his sudden outburst of anger scared her.

Shaking her head with a faint apology and fighting tears, Alice tore out of the station and back to the hospital - trying to calm herself down in the process.

She knew Matthew got angry when things were unfair, and that he had to keep a strict hand on the station lest it got out of control, but… she'd never quite heard or seen him this way. He got short, yes, or abrupt, but not like this; the closest he'd come was when he'd snapped at Jean outside the morgue - she'd been more annoyed with his treatment of their mutual friend than scared, and still felt safe around him, knowing he was different than the men of her past.

But would he be safe now after this? Would he get angry again, and angry at her? Could she risk her heart like that?

Alice sighed and leaned back on her couch - no closer to answers than she had been weeks ago. Against her wants and wishes, Alice drew back from Matthew - not going around for dinner with him and Jean, no lingering conversations or looks in the morgue or station, and mainly going through the motions she had to for her job. It hurt; she missed Matthew, but she couldn't risk all the progress she'd made in her life to be around someone who got angry like that.

But has it really been progress? Has she really been getting over her past? Or was she still running from it like she had when twelve years old?

Eyeing the letter on her coffee table - still unopened - Alice felt so damn lost… and desperately wished someone was here to help guide her through it all.

The sound of her doorbell jarred Alice from her thoughts and she leapt to her feet - trying to calm the rapid beat of her heart as she wiped her sudden clammy palms on her robe and went to see who'd come around to her little bungalow. Peering through the peephole, Alice bit her lower lip when she saw Matthew standing there.

'Why is he here?' she thought, even as she slowly unlocked the door and peered out through a crack.

"Hi," he gave her a slight, nervous, smile. "Uh… I hear it's your birthday today, and I didn't want you to think I forgot."

Honestly she'd forgotten about her own birthday - most people did, at least until she'd come to Ballarat. The sight of the small bouquet of daisies (he'd remembered her preference for them over other more… obviously romantic flowers usually picked), and a gift bag in his hand nearly made her start crying.

"I, um, I understand if you don't want me to linger or come in, or even if you don't want to accept the gift, Alice," Matthew cleared his throat and continued. "But I want you to know… that I've been working on my anger, and the yelling, and the… overall grumpiness. That's… that's what I've been doing this past few weeks when you pulled back, and I don't blame you at all. I don't think I've been happy with myself for quite some time, and… well, I'm getting help - professional help - with all of it."

At that, Alice opened the door further and silently stepped up to Matthew; sliding her arms around his shoulders, she buried her face in the crook of his neck - smiling when she felt him hesitate before pulling her closer.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome."

Drawing back from the spontaneous hug, Alice wiped at the tears falling and waved him in.

"You're sure?"

Smiling at the way he shifted his weight like a schoolboy about to be scolded, Alice nodded; Matthew stepped into her home, watching her quietly as she closed the door behind him. Knotting her fingers in front of her, Alice shuffled nervously next to him.

"I… I've missed you," she admitted in the uneasy silence between them.

That got her a shy smile, "I missed you too."

"Tea?" She motioned further into her home and led him to the kitchen; it felt… right to have him here - sitting silently at her table as she bustled around readying a brew for two. Alice hadn't realized just how much she'd missed him until that moment; he had always made her feel comfortable (he shared a silence with her the same way Lucien always made her at ease by filling up the air with words and pulling her out of her shell).

"Still white with two?" she asked him.

"Yeah, you still take honey in yours?"

"Yeah," Alice smiled over her shoulder as the kettle boiled.

"Why honey?"

"It's what Mum had on hand most of the time… cheaper than sugar since one of our neighbors had a hive."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"Oh, the other neighbors hated it, but since it was up on the roof, they couldn't complain much," Alice shrugged. "At least we got free honey."

Matthew's faint chuckle warmed her heart as she brought over the steaming cups; watching him blow gently on his before taking a sip and (predictably) burning his tongue a little, Alice smiled as the warmth in her chest rose - she'd missed him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Why?"

"For… for pulling away."

"Don't be," Matthew reached out a hand and squeezed hers when she met him halfway. "Don't be, Alice. If you hadn't… I probably wouldn't have gone to get help."

"What do you mean?"

"I wondered why you pulled away, why you hadn't come by for dinner, and Jean finally sat me down and told me you'd gotten scared of my… yelling, my anger."

Alice squeezed his hand as he drew in a deep breath.

"And… as awful as it was not having you around, I'm grateful for it… it pushed me to get help and I can't express enough of how much better I feel for it. I'm… I'm sorry it took something like what happened in the bullpen to have me look for help, but…"

"You're still grateful for it, I understand."

"And… I want to tell you about why I tend to yell."

She could feel the way his hands started to shake in hers, and saw the nervous tick of him chewing on his inner lip; she'd never seen him this nervous, not even when he'd bucked up the courage to ask her out to dinner that first time.

(How she hated to have to let him down gently, as much as she wanted to finally go forward in their dance)

"Okay," Alice nodded. "Okay, yeah, do you want to stay here and tell me or move to somewhere more comfortable? How's your le-?"

"Alice, sweetheart," Matthew smiled, cutting off her concerned questions, and her stomach fluttered a little at the term of endearment.

"Anywhere is fine, I just… it's harder to talk about this than I thought, which is stupid because I just talked about it all with Dr. Graves."

"It's not stupid, it's not."

Matthew shifted in his seat and sighed, "It still feels stupid."

"It's not," she squeezed his hands. "I know how hard it can be to admit these things to people you care about because you don't want things to change… or how they view you to change. How about we move to the couch and maybe that'll help you figure out what you want to say?"

"Okay," he nodded.

Alice made new, fresh cups of tea for both of them as Matthew shuffled out of the kitchen to the couch; as she brought the mugs in, she saw him eyeing the letter still on her coffee table.

"Not a fan of opening your mail?"

"Not overly fond of mail from Sydney… I'll tell you after you get whatever it is off your chest, that's what you came for after all."

He nodded and smiled when she handed over the fresh cup of tea. It all came out - slowly, and frequently punctuated with long silences as Matthew worked out what he wanted to say; she had no idea what a brute his father had been, and how similar their childhoods were. Matthew's father was more emotionally distant - with somewhat violent drunken outbursts - and tended to gamble things and money away rather than beat the living daylights out of Matthew, and Alice wondered if it was because Matthew started fighting back once he got older and stronger than Alice had been - ultimately more of a coward than her own father.

Matthew's upbringing along with the bullying he'd faced at the hands of McAvoy (no wonder he'd been so stressed during the Ballarat West case) shed light on his overall grumpiness and anger - it had all been a wall, a way to separate himself from the world, from getting attached because his heart felt too much. Alice squeezed his hands - their tea cups abandoned on the table, cooled and forgotten - as he went into all that the doctor had told him about how his anger was actually his grief manifesting from a place of hurt.

"Now that you know, what is he having you do to help?"

"I have a journal," Matthew smiled - their joined hands on his good knee. "Dr. Graves has me write down something good each day - even if it's just as simple as 'I had a really good cup of tea', and that way I can look back on the week and see how much good really is in my life, so I don't lose focus of that when work gets to be a lot."

"Good, I'm glad."

"Me too," his smile widened and he wiped away the lingering tears he'd shed earlier; Alice leaned over and kissed his cheek as she hugged him.

"I'm so proud of you."

Matthew sniffled some - clearing his throat in a way that told Alice he was trying not to cry again - but he held tight to Alice and she felt her shoulder grow a little damp.

"I'm so proud of you," she told him again as he drew back to wipe his tears.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

Alice felt her cheeks warm as he softly kissed one; Matthew smiled when she immediately reached for his hand while he took a little time to recover.

"Now, uh," he cleared his throat, "what about Sydney mail hits you the wrong way?"

"Where to start," she sighed, but with Matthew's hand tight around hers, she drew the strength to tell him of her past.

She wasn't quite sure what to make of the shining look in Matthew's eyes - not pitying like some had done - as he remained silent throughout her tale (exactly like she had in his - squeezing her hands reassuringly whenever her throat closed around her words), but she greatly appreciated finally telling someone the whole sad, sorry lot she'd received in life. Finally, Matthew would understand why she was so touch-averse from people she didn't trust. Finally, he'd understand why any type of raised voice could set her on edge. And finally, he'd understand why it took her so long to open up to anyone (and how Lucien had done that by simply accepting Alice for herself - no expectations, no restrictions, just pure acceptance of her as a doctor and her as a friend).

"Oh, Alice," he gently pulled her in for a hug. "I'm so sorry you ever had to go through that, and I'm proud of you."

Alice held on tight to him - taking comfort in his solid, steady warmth - and though the tears fell, she felt so relieved to finally get it out in the open; she was no longer running from her past - not quite confronting it, but willing to stop and walk with it instead of away from it.

"The yelling and the anger on my part… was that another reason you were so hesitant about… us?"

"I… I think so."

"Then I'm definitely glad I went and got help. I know, I know, I shouldn't want to change for the hope of a relationship, sweetheart, but I also wanted to change for myself and you're worth changing for."

Alice simply held him tighter - not knowing what to say, but it did give her a little bit of hope that maybe their dance could resume.

"So… are you worried that your parents have finally found you with this letter from Sydney?"

"Yeah," she wiped her eyes.

"Want me to open it for you and then you can read it?"

"Oh, would you? I-I don't know if I could ever buck up the courage to."

Matthew kissed her forehead and leaned forward to pick up the letter; the address of her parents' house glared up at Alice as she leaned her head on Matthew's shoulder - though she didn't recognize the handwriting. He gently ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter.

"Can…" she sighed when he held it out, "Can you read it? Out loud, please?"

"Yeah, I can," he kissed her forehead again.

"Dear Alice," the letter began, "I know this letter might come as a shock, or completely unwanted, but I hope you've decided to open it and find out. It took awhile to track you down, but Father's lawyer finally did, and I'm writing to tell you that Father is dead. Mum's still alive, and I'm taking care of her as she deals with both her grief and relief over the fact that she's out from under his abusive thumb. I'm also writing to tell you that I never hated you for leaving, my dear sister. You got out when you could, and I was thankfully shielded from Father's abuse by Mum, who didn't want to lose her other daughter. You made your choice to leave, and I made my choice to stay after I got older, and I just… I wanted you to know that both Mum and I worried after you. I hope you reach out to us again now that Father's gone, I'd love to introduce you to your niece - she reminds me so much of you every day. Yours, Peg."

"Oh…" Alice covered her mouth with her hand as she gently took the letter from Matthew's hand - more tears springing up in her eyes as she poured over the slanting handwriting of her baby sister - so very different from when they were young.

"Oh, Matthew…"

"Seems like good news, hm?"

"I… I don't know."

He kissed her temple as she stared at the letter, "Well… your father's dead, and it sounds like your sister and Mum miss you."

"What if it's a trick?"

"There's one way to find out," he pointed to the phone number written down at the bottom. "If it is a trick, you've still got me and Jean and the whole of Ballarat's police force to help protect you. We'll do whatever we need to do."

That did make her feel better; she had a family here in Ballarat - one unlike she'd ever had before, and she felt more confident that she could confront any negative consequences from reaching out to her family.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

She nodded, "Okay. I want to call and find out."

"How about tomorrow, it's getting a little late."

Alice looked down at Matthew's watch and giggled at the late hour.

"Might have to sneak out of here, but first, you have a gift to open."

"I completely forgot."

"Sit tight, I'll get the gift," with another kiss to her forehead, Matthew got up with a slight groan and quickly retrieved the bag he'd brought in.

"Happy Birthday, Alice."

She peered into the bag and giggled at the familiar sight of Jean's biscuit tin. "Did you nick Jean's biscuits, my dear Matthew?"

"No!" He protested even as she laughed. "No, no, no, it was all that was on hand to hold your present. As if Jean would let me nick her tin anyways."

Alice continued to laugh and opened the tin - inhaling the scent of baked shortbread drizzled in chocolate; they weren't perfect, some of the pieces were a little wonky, but when she pulled one out to sample they were just as delicious as Jean's usual shortbread (and the added chocolate made her want to eat the entire tin in one go).

Matthew cleared his throat again, "Sorry some of them look weird, I'm not as skilled as Jean is in the kitchen - though she did hover over my shoulder while I made them."

"You made these?"

His cheeks turned pink (as did his ears), but he nodded, "I, uh, I wanted to give you something a little special, but not too over the top."

"It's perfect, Matthew," Alice leaned over and hugged him - the tin still in her hands as her friend laughed. "Thank you, I love it."

"Good," he kissed the top of her head as she lingered in his arms, "I'm glad."

"And I'm glad you've gotten help, and that you've trusted me with everything."

"Just as I am with you trusting me with your past."

She hummed a little happy hum before kissing Matthew's cheek as she drew back from the hug; he smiled at her - his hand coming up to trail over her cheek - it widened when she leaned into his touch.

"It's getting late," Matthew told her softly.

"It is… you'll come back tomorrow?"

"Yeah, or you could come over to the house - have some privacy in the studio before staying for dinner."

"Is this your way of asking me over for dinner?" She teased.

"Maybe," he kissed her cheek, "that and Jean also misses you coming by."

"Alright… provided we don't get called in on a Sunday, I'll drop by in the afternoon to make the call… you'll be there, right?"

"For as long as you want me to be, sweetheart."

"Good," she smiled and leaned in to press her lips softly against his. "Good."

Alice's smile widened when he stared at her for a moment before a wide, boyish grin spread across his face, and she giggled as he pulled her in for another kiss - the shortbread tin lifted from her hands to be placed on the coffee table as he kissed her again.

It was getting late, and Matthew probably should leave, but Alice mused (as they traded more kisses) that he wasn't leaving any time soon.

-----

"How have you been since our last meeting?" Dr. Graves asked him, and Matthew couldn't stop the goofy grin spreading across his face at the memory of kissing Alice the night of her birthday.

"Matthew?"

"Sorry, Doc," he cleared his throat, but the psychologist waved him off.

"It's good to see you so happy. What happened?"

"I, uh, I told Alice about everything."

"That's good," Dr. Graves smiled. "And?"

"And what?"

"What's causing the grin?"

Trying to bite back another grin - and failing - Matthew ducked his head.

"Ah, well… Alice and I have a date… after sharing a few kisses."

The answering smile from his psychologist made it feel even better.

"Good, very good."

#alice harvey #matthew lawson #matthew x alice #tdbm fic #writing of dee #Anonymous

26 notes · View notes

ihopuhopwehop · 4 years

Text

Sirius Fic based on “Maniac” by Conan Gray 🥺🥺 maybe read and review🥺

Tw: angst, mentions of abuse/trauma, talks about the prank

Ps. Lmk if I should make a tag list:) AO3

Sirius scrubbed his eyes fiercely as he walked dejectedly down the hall towards McGonagall’s office.

Whispers followed him every where he went, though they were ten-fold this time around because no body else actually knew the extent of what happened.

Some called him psychopathic.

Thinking he had done something similar to what his family members did. That he’d finally gotten the dark mark and now James, Remus, and Peter refused to associate with him because of it.

Some told him to stop being so dramatic.

That whatever it was, they’d fix it soon. James, Remus, and Peter couldn’t stay mad at him for long. They were brothers.

Surely they’d work it out.

At least that’s what they told him. He wasn’t so sure what bonds of blood or love meant to anyone anymore.

He was the perfect example.

Their friendship had been magic.

Supporting each other no matter what it was. Being there for each other. Helping him heal himself after his father sliced him. Sitting with him while he tried to forget his nightmares. Comforting Remus after the full moon, seeing who could eat the most chocolate frogs. Saving the cheese danishes for Peter. And researching new brooms for James to try out.

Now it was tragic.

Because he chose to make it that way.

At first he tried to convince himself it wasn’t his fault. That if only Snape hadn’t done what he did. If only Snape hadn’t been nosing around Remus. Lurking and searching for their secrets.

But really he was the one to go manic.

He was just so angry. So explosively angry.

Everywhere he looked Snape was there.

Whispering to his innocent, little brother.

Pointing out Remus’ scars to fellow Death Eaters.

Calling James a blood-traitor.

Harassing mud—that word. Muggleborns.

He had had it with Snivellus. So he decided to do something about it.

He didn’t think...no couldn’t think of any other option that would work better than scaring Snape. Threatening him with the knowledge Snape so callously desired.

He didn’t think about how the monster at the end of the tunnel would turn into a living human being that would have to live with the consequences of Sirius’ actions.

All he could think about was that Snape had it coming. And he knew just what to give him.

And then it all went wrong.

Suddenly, James wasn’t supporting this decision.

James was yelling at him. Cursing at him. Demanding Sirius tell James just what he had done.

Suddenly, James wasn’t on his side.

And Sirius pushed him away. Tried to explain why he had done it, but all he got was James telling him he needed to get help.

But Sirius didn’t know who to ask for help, if not his brother.

Back to the present, Sirius was now in front of McGonagall’s office.

He released a deep, shaky breath as he knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He slumped his shoulders as he hesitantly slipped through the door, enjoyed how the whispers behind him faded as the heavy wood clicked into place.

“Ah, Mr. Black.”

He couldn’t help the flinch. His last name was a reminder of what he did. His parents would be so proud to know Sirius was using a werewolf for his own gain.

It made Sirius sick.

And sad. Tears sprung to his eyes again, but he forced them to stay there, hating how much his eyes burned.

“Professor.” His voice was raspy from the sobbing he had done in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

She gestured him to sit and he mechanically did so, waiting for her to yell at him like many others had.

When she opened her mouth, he flinched again. Until,

“Have a biscuit.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. Have a biscuit? Why? What was the point?

He delicately picked one up and brought it towards his body, but didn’t dare put it in his mouth yet.

McGonagall just stared at him until he finally took a tiny bite, hoping he did what she wanted of him.

“I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

He gulped down the little bit of biscuit as he waited for her to continue.

“Tell me Sirius, how are you doing?”

That one question shouldn’t have done it.

And he tried so hard to make it not happen, but he couldn’t help it.

He broke down.

The tears he’d thought were suppressed, came rushing painfully up and his throat constricted, a lump forming.

He put a rough hand on his forehead while he leaned forward. The tears leaking out. His dirty, shoulder-length hair falling into his face.

He breathed a shaking breath before he could get a word out.

“Not—not good.” His voice broke.

Suddenly though, all of his thoughts came rushing out.

“I can’t—I can’t believe I did that. To Remus. To James. To Sn—Snape.” He exhaled forcefully, a choking sob working its way up. “I’m so much more like my family than I thought.”

He was now sobbing harder than he had in his entire life. In front of his Professor. His Professor who looked like she was trying her hardest to push her own tears down.

“Remus isn’t the monster. I am. I used his affliction against him. And the sad thing is, if James hadn’t have fought me, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But Snape deserved it.” Another wracking sob and a sniffle.

“He corrupted Regulus. My—my little brother. One of them. He hurt Remus. Made fun of his scars. Hell, he said Mary McDonald’s assault was “just a laugh” I don’t—I can’t”

He paused, running a hand down his face, “What’s wrong with me Professor? What’s—“ He took a deep inhale, trying to finally get rid of the painful lump in his throat, before he looked into his Professor’s pained eyes.

“I just wanted to help them. But I only made it worse. And now I have no one. Not James. not Remus. Not Reg—Regulus.”

He leaned back in the chair, but folded his arms around himself, waiting to see what she had to say.

She only pushed the biscuit tin towards him again, and he gratefully took one.

She then conjured some water for him to drink and Sirius thought it felt cool against his throat.

When he was finished and unsure about what to do now, McGonagall finally spoke.

“Sirius. I think you need to heal. From what I’ve heard, you’ve experienced a lot of abuse and trauma from your family. This in no way excuses what you did, and you will have consequences for your actions as Dumbledore, Slughorn, and myself deem fit, but you need help. As such, you will meet in my office weekly for the rest of the year and we will work through some things and teach you better ways to cope with your emotions, of course, if you are okay with it?”

Sirius didn’t know. He wasn’t sure what help she could give, but seeing as he no longer had friends to rely on, he figured he should at least give McGonagall a try.

So he nodded. James had said he needed help anyways. Maybe this was the help he meant.

“Can I...can I change my mind if I don’t like it?”

“Of course. Or you may request a new therapist to help you if you feel I am not the best fit for you.”

Sirius nodded again and swallowed audibly. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Thank you Sirius. You may go back to Gryffindor tower.”

Sirius didn’t miss the unspoken warning; don’t go anywhere you shouldn’t.

Sirius stood up and walked out of her office, his shoulders tensed and his eyes hurting.

He clenched his eyes shut as he made it out into the hallway, the whispers once again flaring as people noticed him.

Just at that moment, he noticed Remus walking in front of him, no doubt heading to the common room.

He debated catching up with him, but thought of the pain in Remus’ eyes when he had found out what he’d done.

He didn’t think he was ready to face him again. So he sulked back behind him and stayed as close to the wall as he could.

He let Remus get safely in the common room, waiting in the hallway a for a few minutes, before giving the password to the Fat Lady and cautiously entering the common room.

He noticed James, Remus, and Peter by the fireplace. All looking exhausted, but James smiled at something Remus said, and Sirius had to look away.

He wanted to go to their four poster but knew it was getting late and they’d be retiring soon, so instead he flopped onto the window seat, ignoring his housemates questioning looks and gossip.

He had been staring at the faint outline of the whomping willow for about ten minutes when someone sat across from him.

He lazily rolled his head to the side to see who it was and refused to let the hope that it was James or Remus show on his face.

It was Lily Evans.

She smiled at him lightly.

He wanted to roll his eyes but managed to control that impulse. Look at him go, only one session with McGonagall and he already was showing restraint.

He inwardly snorted at his joke but outwardly puffed a strand of hair out of his eyes.

“What do you want?”

“Why aren’t you sitting with them?”

He knew she was just curious but it still pissed him off.

So he scowled at her, “because I’m alone now Evans.” When she opened her mouth to ask another question, he continued, “if you’re here to ask me questions, don’t bother. I’m not in the mood.”

He turned back to the whomping willow.

He felt a tentative hand on his knee, “I’m not sure what’s happened, but...I’m here if you need to talk.” When he only continued staring at her she continued, “or you know, stare pensively out of window with you like the brooder you are, then—“ she shrugged her shoulders and it brought a twitch of his lips.

How ironic that Snivellus’ former best friend was the one there for him, “Thanks Evans. I’ll keep that in mind.”

At this, he stood and made his way up to their dormitory, hoping to be in and out of the shower before they got went to bed.

#Sirius black #James potter #the prank #lily evans #harry potter #angst #hogwarts #fanfiction #read and review #reblog #song fic #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #the marauders #sirius black #james potter #minerva mcgonagall #ao3

10 notes · View notes

smolkooks · 4 years

Text

croissants and pomeranians

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader

genre/s: college!au, dancer!taehyung, dancer!jimin, non-idol!au

word count: 5.5k

warnings: none! :) lots of fluff

summary: you want to adopt a puppy, and come across a pair of pomeranians. they’re absolutely perfect, the only problem is that your apartment building only allows one dog, and the two puppies are brothers that cannot be separated. luckily, kim taehyung has a solution for you, which happens to involve dates at the dog park, froyo and strawberry croissants.

You never thought you’d say it (or rather, think it) but the sound of rowdy traffic was oddly nice. Well, not nice, per se, but just—a reminder that the outside world still existed.

That was nice to know, after having stayed at home, doing work for your finals for the past two weeks.

Your friends had called you multiple times, each call more desperate as you refused their offers each time. It’s not that you didn’t want to go with them. It was just that it was your final year of college and you couldn’tfail. You didn’t have anything to fall back on, and this was it, for you.

“Y/N,” Jimin, your best friend and classmate, had whined on his third call to you earlier that day, “Pleaseeeee come with me to Seulgi-noona’s party. I need a friend to go with me!”

“Jimin,” You’d sighed, and he immediately started on his next, pre-prepared spiel, anticipating your rejection:

“Please, please, please! You won’t fail from just one night out, I’ve done all the calculations for you, you’ll be fine! You get good grades, anyway, you’ll be fine, you’re way smarter than me—,”

“Jimin, I really can’t,” You’d cut him off, genuinely upset at having to disappoint your best friend. But you seriously didn’t have a choice. Contrary to what Jimin had said, you got mediocre, passing grades—that wasn’t going to cut it for you to make it into what you wanted to do. “I’m sorry. I’ll go with you after the exams are over!”

“It’s not good for you to be alone up there all the time,” He’d said after a short moment, “I would visit if I could but I lost my train card and I live too far away to walk—,”

“It’s okay,” You’d told him with a laugh, “Seriously, thanks, but don’t worry about it. I’m okay alone, and besides, you call me like seven times a day.”

“I just miss you,” He’d said, his voice suddenly very small, and your heart clenched a bit, “At least get a puppy or something. I don’t want you to come out of your apartment after finals and be completely insane.”

You’d chuckled, “I’ll think about it, Jimin.”

And it was partially Jimin’s speech that spurred you to actually, finally leave and take a short break outside.

Well, you were still going to study—just, at your aunt’s coffee shop instead of cooped up in your apartment—at your aunt’s insistence, of course. So, never one to refuse her, you’d packed up your laptop and books and headed out.

The café was very small, but its quaintness was what made it homely to you. Although you didn’t have much time to visit, this had been your favourite place to go after school as a kid.

Pushing your way through the door with your elbow, bag in hand, you said a quick hello to the cashier—who was just your cousin. She loved working here, as far as you could tell, and she gave you a very excited wave in reply, before returning to the customer who was speaking to her.

You pulled out a chair by the window, on the stools, and sat, spreading out your schoolwork and putting in your earphones. Admittedly, though, you found yourself more than distracted by the cars zooming through the streets outside. Maybe it was a coping mechanism from the stress of exams that felt like they were going to break your back—the want to find some sort of distraction. You hadn’t talked to anybody in weeks.

Come to think of it, that very short exchange with your cousin was the first human interaction you had had in a whole fourteen days. That brought a scoff to your lips, and you sighed, letting yourself sink into your chair, your posture sagging. What were your friends up to? You’d declined their past two invites to parties because there was just too much work to do, and they had seemed to give up after the second…

It was only when somebody put a hand on your shoulder and said, “You’re studying English?” that you were finally shocked out of your daydreaming and whipped around to see a curious face peering at your laptop screen. He didn’t do it rudely, but just in a purely inquisitive way. So, while you might have rushed to shut your laptop in any other situation, his shining eyes and the quirk at the corner of his mouth made you do otherwise.

Instead of panicking, you forced yourself to be calm, and then said with a smile, “Yeah, I’m planning on moving out of Korea once I graduate.”

You took this moment to take a good look at his face—his light-brown hair looked freshly-dyed, curls falling into his eyes. His eyes were pretty; he appeared to have some sort of coloured lense in, and immediately your interest was piqued. By the lense, yes, but also because his face was very handsome.

He made a look that seemed almost…impressed, and then set his things down in the seat next to you, moving to sit, “I wish I was smart enough to do that.”

You flushed, “I’m sure you are! I’m struggling as it is anyway—finals are next week and this is the first time I’ve left my apartment in ages.”

He leant with one elbow against the table, chin on his hand, and replied, “Nah, I gave up on school ages ago,” he grinned mischievously, “Barely made it out of high school in one piece.”

“You know some basic stuff though,” You blurted in your rush to find something to fill the silence, and immediately your face flustered red, “Sorry, that’s not what I meant—I’m sure you—,”

“It’s okay,” He laughed, and when he playfully reached over to lightly push your shoulder, “You’re cute. I doknow some basic stuff, fortunately.”

Cute. Cute.

“Uh—yeah,” You stuttered, tongue-tied, “Um, did you want to get anything to eat?” At this point, your laptop had long since fallen asleep, its screen darkened, and you glanced at your reflection. You were met with your pink flush and suddenly felt very embarrassed so you shut your computer quickly, “I could buy us something—,”

“I already got stuff,” He said, waving you off with a boyish smile, “It’s all good. Thanks, though. I hope you like strawberry croissants.”

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head in confusion, “Yeah, I do, but I didn’t buy anything—,”

Suddenly, your cousin was walking towards you with two plates—sure enough, confirming your suspicions—containing a strawberry croissant on each one. This boy was toosmooth.

“Hey,” You said in an almost scolding tone, “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” But as your cousin set down the plates in between you, shooting you a suggestive wink, you couldn’t protest much more. They really did look really good, and you’d skipped breakfast…andlunch…

“I wasn’t going to just eat and let you go hungry,” He said, with a pout in his tone—like a puppy. It was too much for your heart, so you caved—not that you were going to fight against the croissant much anyway, but you took the plate anyway, sliding it over to your side of the table, as he took his one.

“Thank you,” You said graciously, shyly, “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” He said, cheeks dimpling, “Let’s eat. This is my favourite croissant from here.”

“You’re a regular here?” You said, genuinely surprised, “I hadn’t realised.”

“I’m a dancer and our studio is just around the corner,” He explained, as he took a bite and gestured for you to do the same. He chewed with his mouth closed—which you appreciated very much—and swallowed before continuing, “My friends and I come here a lot. They were going to a party though, and I didn’t feel up to it so I just decided to get something to eat instead.” He shot you a wink, “And you happened to be here. Better than any party could have been.”

“And now we’re here,” You said, doing your best to fight off the blush, even as your heart pounded, “You’re being very smooth for someone I met five minutes ago, you know?”

“Five minutes?” He pretended to look affronted, glancing at his watch, “Excuse me, it’s been a solid eleven minutes, thank you.”

“Eleven minutes,” You said flatly, raising a brow and taking another bite of your croissant, “Same difference.”

“I thought youwere the smart one here,” He said, humouring you, “Seems almost like,” He paused, pretending to count on his fingers, and you interrupted him when he got to his ninth finger.

“You won’t have enough,” You said, in that baby-tone that you would use to speak to a puppy—jokingly, “Trust me. There’s a solid ten fingers and eleven minutes won’t fit on there.” You patted his hand and he scrunched his nose.

“I have toes, too, you know,” He said through his pout and shining, amused eyes, “That makes twenty.”

The conversation was going so well—you would have liked to stay there for hours just talking, because it really was a nice break from all the work you had been doing, but it wasn’t five minutes later that your aunt burst through the back door and offered you to go upstairs for a quiet place to study.

You were going to decline—you really were, but she had apparently called ahead and asked your cousin to make you a coffee already, which was already upstairs, so you couldn’t say no. Your aunt was sweet, really, and she just wanted to help you out. It was well-appreciated, but…you glanced at the brown-haired, pretty boy as you stood to leave.

“Well, since you’re a regular, I’ll see you around, right?” You said, running a hand through your ponytail and giving him a smile.

“Yeah, you will,” He said, grinning softly, “Happy studying.”

It wasn’t until you were already upstairs, and halfway through your introduction paragraph for your essay due in three days that you realised you never asked the guy for his number, or his name, for that matter. But when you rushed downstairs to check if he was still there, his seat was empty—only two empty, strawberry-jam-stained plates remained on the tabletop.

***

The day after your last exam, you decided to take on Jimin’s advice. Your best friend gave plenty of advice, regularly, in his constant rants about all sorts of things, but today you were at the animal shelter to adopt a puppy.

Although you hadn’t thought much of it when Jimin had suggested it to you, after a few days you’d decided it was probably a good idea to adopt a puppy—especially now that you were done with school. Your apartment building allowed a small dog anyway, and you thought it would be very nice to have a companion.

It did get lonely sometimes.

There were a few in a pen on the floor, where a couple of kids were watching the dogs excitedly, reaching into the pen while a few of the volunteer workers frantically stopped them with strained smiles.

It was a weekday, so you’d expected that the shelter wouldn’t be so crowded so that you could stay for longer without feeling claustrophobic, but it was unexpectedly quite filled—that wasn’t going to stop you today, though. You were on a mission.

Unable to restrain the urge to cuddle a puppy, you began to make your way over, and upon glimpsing the cluster of fluff rolling around the pen your heart melted. There were two, in particular, who were particularly close to where you were standing, a bit separated from the other bunch, and you knelt down to get a closer look.

They were little Pomeranian puppies, you noted, as you cooed at the way the two dogs both looked up at you with their (literal) glowing, puppy-dog eyes. One in particular, the slightly bigger one with a less symmetrical face (but equally as cute), got up and sniffed at you, and you ‘awwed’ aloud, unable to hold back. You knelt down by the pen and reached in a hand gently and slowly, for the little puppy to sniff at.

A volunteer worker quickly approached you—a nice-looking woman who gave you a warm smile, “These two are brothers. Do you want to hold them?”

“Oh, yes, please,” You said eagerly, glancing up to meet her eyes even though it was almost impossible to tear your gaze from the little puppies, “Um, can I hold the bigger one first?”

“Of course,” The woman said, picking up the puppy with ease, “He’s really good. Cheerful and very friendly, I think you’d get along with him.”

You hummed as she passed the puppy to you, and the Pomeranian snuggled into your arms as you stroked his black-and-orange fur. Immediately, you were in love—how could you not be? The little dog was too endearing, and he started whining when you stopped petting him to get a better look at his cute little face.

However, it wasn’t long before his brother, the smaller but practically identical Pomeranian, who was left in the pen, started whining—and you couldn’t keep them apart anymore.

Instantly, the problem hit you. This puppy was it for you—he was the one you wanted, but…there was no way you’d be able to take in two dogs with the restrictions that your apartment building had on pets, and also just your budget and time. But…you couldn’t find it in yourself to separate the two.

Especially when you put the puppy back and his brother snuggled right back into his side, nudging him with his button nose.

Heaving a sigh, you forced yourself up to your feet and told the woman, “I don’t think I can adopt them both…”

“Ah, well,” She said, with a comforting smile and patting you on the shoulder, “There are always other puppies!”

And then she was gone, off to help somebody else, but your mind was still consumed by the thought of the Pomeranian puppy and his smaller brother. You knew you had to leave; there was no way you could adopt two dogs—

You didn’t even want to entertain that idea and tempt yourself. It was too much, but…the little puppy was still looking up at you and it was too much for your weak heart to leave him.

So instead of making any sort of decision, you just decided to sit there, thinking, and stroking both of the Pomeranians longingly, trying to figure out a solution.

You were sure you were there for so long that the volunteers started giving you strange looks.

It must’ve been almost an hour later when somebody sat down next to you. Their presence didn’t even register in your mind; you were lost in thought and absently stroking the now-asleep dogs, but then they spoke.

“They’re cute, right?”

For a second you thought it was another volunteer worker, and you prepared yourself to apologise and explain that you couldn’t take both—you didn’t want to look away from the puppies, so instead you glanced at the stranger’s shoes, noting that they weren’t the compulsory boots the volunteers had to wear, and your well-rehearsed (not really) rant was stopped before it escaped your mouth.

“Oh, yeah, they really are,” You said instead, sighing deeply, “But I can’t take both so I’ve been sitting here for ages just trying to decide what to do. They’re too cute but they’re brothers and my apartment building only allows—,” and then you cut yourself off, realising that you were sharing too much information. When you glanced up, finally, though, your eyes widened, “Wait, you’re the strawberry-croissant guy from the café?”

“Strawberry-croissant guy?” He said with an amused gleam in his eyes, “I guess I am. You’re the girl who’s studying English and wants to leave Korea after graduation, huh?”

“Yeah,” You said, suddenly feeling elated at seeing this guy again, “Sorry for rambling to you just then.”

“No, it’s really okay,” He said, his expression genuinely interested, and your heart warmed when he motioned for you to continue.

You cleared your throat, feeling a bit embarrassed but encouraged, “I’m only allowed to have one dog, but I can’t separate them and I’m in love with this guy,” you pointed at the slightly bigger puppy, the one you were in love with, “So I’ve just sat here for an hour.”

“Well,” He said after a brief moment of silence, reaching a hand in to pet the other puppy—the smaller one, “I think I have a solution for you.” The puppy sniffed at his hand and then practically leapt in, fitting perfectly into his palm.

“He likes you,” You cooed, picking up the larger puppy and taking him into your lap, where you sat cross-legged on the floor. The guy did the same, and so you each had a small Pomeranian cuddled up to you.

“I’d say the same about yours,” He said, his eyes creasing into a smile, “I’m Taehyung, by the way. I can’t believe I didn’t get your name the other day.”

“I’m Y/N,” You said eagerly, “And he’s not mine yet.”

“I’ll adopt Tannie if you adopt yours,” Taehyung said, looking down at the little puppy in his lap affectionately, “So they won’t be apart from each other.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brows, looking to your side to meet his eyes, “We don’t live together…um, right?”

“Yeah, I know, I’m pretty sure we don’t—,” He suddenly started sounding a bit flustered as he avoided your gaze, “I mean, like, if we each take one of them then we can let them meet and have little dog dates for them? I mean, if you’d like…” He bit his lip nervously, eyes finally flitting up to gauge your reaction.

You smiled, endeared by his adorableness, “Of course, I’d love that. And, wait—you already named him?”

A smile brightened Taehyung’s face again, and although you couldn’t see his mouth, it was obvious he was happy by the way his eyes lit up, “Yeah, I chose a name on the way here. Yeontan. How about yours?”

“I haven’t actually chosen one,” You said, suddenly feeling sheepish. Were you supposed to name your dog beforehand? “I’ve never owned a dog before so I don’t know how that all works.”

He chortled, bumping you with his shoulder, “Y/N, you just choose a name. There’s nothing special about it.”

“Hey, it’s special for me,” You said defensively, though you felt the heat rise to your cheeks when he scrunched his face jokingly and responded, “It’s like adopting a child, isn’t it?”

You sighed dramatically as you glanced down at your puppy, your new child, “It really is.”

***

y/n: i named my puppy

taehyung: finally! what did you decide on? i was getting all tongue-tied calling him ‘the big one out of the two small pomeranians we decided to adopt together’

y/n: his name is byeol :)

taehyung: ahhhh cute

taehyung: tannie’s been whiney lately :(

y/n: aw, why? byeol’s been good so far

taehyung: he misses his big brother, he wants to go to the dog park with him

y/n: lmao so now you understand dog hm?

taehyung: hey hey you understand english and i understand dog, people are different okay?

y/n: of course of course, there’s no judgement here lol

y/n: dog park by the café tomorrow, noon?

taehyung: how about this afternoon? three?

y/n: okay

y/n: you’re too smooth it’s unfair

taehyung: see you there ;)

Setting your phone on your bedside table, you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your lips and you let out a little giggle. Even Byeol, curled up in your lap, seemed intrigued by whatever had made you happy, and he lifted his head to nudge your hand.

“We’re gonna go see Tannie,” You cooed to him, scratching his head gently, “Do you miss your little brother?”

In answer, Byeol’s eyes lit up, and you laughed as he started doing excited laps around your bed. Having a companion was definitely worth it.

You didn’t know why but an hour later, at 2:30pm, you found yourself staring at your closet for much longer than you had anticipated. At this point, you wouldn’t make it to the dog park on time to meet Taehyung. You didn’t even know why you felt the need to even entertain the idea of dressing up—you never would have even considered it on any other trip to the park but for somereason your mind was deciding to be stupid—

Frustrated, you let out a groan and Byeol, who had been circling your feet for the past ten minutes you had been standing at your closet, turned his head up at you curiously.

“Byeol-ie,” You grumbled, sitting down on the carpet and tugging your little puppy into a hug, “I can’t find clothes to wear.”

Of course, Byeol didn’t reply—he was focused on cuddling into your arms and you didn’t object. You would never object to cuddles with Byeol. He was super soft and far too cute to be true, and your frustration was immediately forgotten as you nuzzled your face into Byeol’s fur, “I love you, Byeol-ie.”

In the end, you collected yourself, sucked it up and just picked some damn clothes, put Byeol on his leash and then began the walk to the park.

It was just Taehyung. Right? Yeah.

Byeol was a good distraction from your thoughts—what even were these thoughts? No, there were no thoughts. No thoughts. Definitely none about Taehyung. None about his pretty eyes or his curly hair. Or his boxy smile. Or—

sdlkfjskdlfjdkfjlsdfjsdfksjdlfsdfqeejiwofksfdl

No more of that.

You focused on Byeol, who was absolutely giddy with energy. He was bounding around in all directions, although you kept his leash at a safe length so he wouldn’t run onto the road or get lost somewhere. His excitement seriously reflected that of a small child and it was super endearing.

You got to the dog park at five past three, and spotted Taehyung immediately, on his phone, sitting on one of the benches, already in the little dog pen that they had for the small dogs.

He glanced up every few seconds to check on Yeontan, but the little puppy was waiting at his feet, looking around shyly every time he looked up (or rather, down). He kept trying to encourage the little pomeranian to interact with the other dogs, but Yeontan was adamant on waiting, which made you giggle.

You took a quick look at him and noticed that he had on one of those black headbands that athletic people wore, his bangs tucked over it, hair catching the sunlight in just the right way that made it look sparkly.

Almost exactly at that moment, you got a text from him:

taehyung: i’m here, are you close?

y/n: look up, to your left :)

He glanced up and when he caught sight of you, his face immediately lit up with a boxy grin, and you waved at him, a laugh spilling from your lips. Byeol spotted him then, and immediately he started barking excitedly and tugging on the leash to meet Yeontan.

Finally, tugged along by Byeol (who was surprisingly verystrong when he was excited), you approached him and pushed open the gate to the dog pen. Once the gate was securely shut again, you unclipped Byeol from his leash and he was bounding off immediately off to Yeontan. Said puppy had also started barking and running towards Byeol instantly—and when the two dogs met in the middle they excitedly circled each other and seemed to converse with each other very happily.

You went over to Taehyung, and you spoke first, “Hey! Sorry, I got caught up at one of the crossings.”

“It’s okay,” He replied with a smile, putting an arm over your shoulder and squeezing you close for a second, before letting you go, which surprised you—it made your heart spin in a way you weren’t sure how to interpret, “I thought you were going to ditch me for a sec,” He joked lightly.

“I’m sorry,” You said genuinely, meeting his eyes, “I wouldn’t ditch you, Byeol was way too excited for me to not come. The moment I told him we were going to see Tannie he was practically out the door.”

“Tannie was too shy to play with any other dogs,” Taehyung said with a little chuckle, “He really missed his brother. Thank you for coming.”

“It’s okay, I wanted to,” You said with a half-smile, “I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you, too,” He said sincerely, his eyes gleaming euphorically at your words, “You’re good at talking.” He suddenly did a double-take, “Sorry, that was really strangely-worded lmao I think I—,”

You burst out laughing, “Did you seriously just say ‘lmao’ out loud?”

He flushed, “Sorry, it’s a habit, I talk to Tannie like I’m texting him, so I just um, slipped, I’m sorry that was really weird.”

“It’s okay, it’s kind of cute,” You said, unable to hold back your giggles, “I think it’s weird but in a cute way, you know?”

“Um, I think?” He said, his cheeks still rosy, “I think I get what you mean. You’re weird in a cute way, too—damn, I screwed up again didn’t I—,”

Suddenly feeling brave, you silenced him by taking his face gently in your hands, taking a brief second to admire the way his eyes shone in the golden sunlight, before you leant up and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was soft and nice and more than enough to make your heart skip a beat—or two, or three. He put an arm around your waist gently, and although the kiss was completely innocent, the feeling of his lips on yours made you feel weak in the knees. Suddenly you were thankful that you were sitting, or you would most certainly have lost your balance.

When you pulled away, a few seconds later, you were exhilarated and there was a long silence where you stayed in his arms, breathing soft, until he broke it and murmured, “Your eyes are so pretty in the sun.”

Before you could respond, a pair of pomeranians called Yeontan and Byeol who ran into your legs, yapping excitedly as they hopped around each other.

Catching your breath, you leant down and picked Byeol up, immediately cooing, “Aww, little Byeol-ie wants to play!” He excitedly licked at your hands, his eyes wide and almost smiling, “I love you Byeol-ie, aww, yeah, I love you—,” you kissed his head and he barked happily. Setting him down carefully, you told Taehyung, meeting his eyes but suddenly feeling a bit shy, “I think they want to play.”

He was looking at you already, a smile in his eyes, and he replied, “How about we take them on a walk on the way to froyo?”

“We’re getting froyo?” You said, eyes widening—you tried not to make it obvious, but based on the way Taehyung’s expression changed to one of pure amusement, you assumed that you weren’t successful in hiding your immediate excitement, “I love froyo! Do they allow puppies though?”

“I know the owners so we can just bring them in,” Taehyung said reassuringly, and you were on your feet in an instant, clasping Byeol’s leash back onto his collar.

“Let’s go, then,” You said, cheeks dimpling into a smile, “Come on, Byeol-ie!”

Too distracted by the thought of frozen yoghurt, you missed Taehyung’s adoring gaze as he watched you skip over to the gate.

***

The froyo shop was very cute—it was small, kind of like your aunt’s café, but it was set up like an icecream shop. After ensuring that Byeol and Yeontan were secure and their leashes were looped onto one of the poles right on the doorstep of the shop, you excitedly rushed to get into the shop. The fruity smell immediately engulfed you. It had been a long time since you’d gotten any sort of dessert, and the thought of eating frozen yoghurt made you more excited than you would have liked to admit.

But when you looked up, your jaw dropped—

“Y/N, what?”

“Jimin?”

Sure enough, your best friend—Park Jimin, the one and only, your classmate and tutor and advice-giver, was standing behind the counter, his eyes wide. And then, his gaze drifted to the figure behind you—Taehyung, and Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You two know each other?” Jimin said, astonished, “I didn’t realise you’d ever even met.”

“We met a week and a bit ago,” Taehyung said, putting a hand on the small of your back and encouraging you to approach the counter, probably so that you could actually start looking at the flavours, “We adopted dogs together. Are we allowed to bring them in, by the way? Tannie and Byeol are waiting outside.”

“You have dogs? You don’t live together, do you? Wait, Y/N, how could you go to the animal shelter without bringing me?” Jimin said, looking affronted.

“I just took your advice about getting a puppy,” You said, still in shock, “Why are you at a froyo shop? And how do you know Taehyung?”

“I’m a dancer, remember? We dance together, and his dad owns this shop,” Taehyung explained.

“You dance?” You spun to face Jimin, drowned in surprise, and Jimin exclaimed, “Y/N, dude, I’ve told you before, I swear I have.”

“Okay, to be honest you probably have,” You sighed, reminding yourself that you had a terrible memory and it was more likely that you’d forgotten—to be honest. Not only that, but the topic of dancing didn’t come up often with Jimin; since it wasn’t something you had in common. But still—Seoul was a pretty damn big city, how did thishappen?

“Bring the dogs in, I need to meet them immediately. You can put them in the backyard,” Jimin demanded, before motioning for the two of you to come forward, “What flavour of froyo do you want?”

***

The next week, you were sitting with Jimin on campus at school, during break. It had been a pretty lazy week for you, since most of your assessments were finished and these were just conclusion lessons for you. You’d had much more time to take care of Byeol, and also—of course—Yeontan, and by extension also talk to Taehyung.

“So, wait, I don’t see you for like two weeks and you made outwith my dance partner andadopted a dog with him? And you didn’ttellme?” Jimin exclaimed—his tone teasing, as he took a bite out of his sandwich.

“We didn’t make out,” You sighed, even though you knew it was useless—Jimin was very stubborn about teasing you, “And I would have told you when I saw you next. On a much more important note, why didn’t you tell me you owned a froyo shop? You knowI love froyo.”

“I literally did,” He rolled his eyes, tone light, “Your memory just sucks, Y/N. I can’t believe my two best friends betrayedme and got together.”

“Jimin, I didn’t even know you were friends with Taehyung,” You said, shoving his shoulder playfully.

“I swear I’ve told you,” Jimin began, but you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Oh, stop using that excuse, I know my memory doesn’t suck thatmuch,” You said with a scoff, narrowing your eyes jokingly, and Jimin laughed, “You can’t get away with everything, Jimin-ie.”

Before he could respond, your phone lit up, and Jimin was immediately leaning over eagerly, “It’s Taehyung, isn’t it? I swear you two are always texting.” He returned to eating his sandwich as he waited for you to finish texting Taehyung back.

taehyung: i’m at the pet shop, how many cans of dog food do we need

y/n: i need three and you need four so

taehyung: but i can’t use my fingers to add them up :( i’m texting you with my fingers

y/n: use your toes, remember you have twenty in total?

taehyung: dang it i knew you were the smart one

You giggled before switching your phone off and finally opening your bag to pull out the lunch that you had bought for yourself this morning—two strawberry croissants.

The sunlight was soft and nice and pretty; the thought brightened your face with a smile, especially when your phone lit up with a new text:

taehyung: dog park by the café, 3pm?

102 notes · View notes