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theoreticslut · 3 years

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Sleepy Love Letters // f.w.

fred weasley x reader

requested: yes

word count: 2.5k

warnings: none, fluff

A/N: oh good lord. I am literally so behind on requests of all kinds. I guess i’ve just really needed a break. I am (obviously) writing again, but I am taking it much slower than I had been and it’s truly just because I get burnt out and tired so much faster lately. This fic is from my 1.1k sleepover (i believe) which was back in feb, but I still have stuff from my end of the year party from late dec / early jan. Basically, at this point I’m working through things as I get the time and motivation for it. It’ll all just be mixed in. If you’re waiting for a fic, headcanon, blurb, letter, etc. just keep your eyes out for it on my blog OR you can always check the events and their respective tags under my navigation to find it. I am either working on it or getting my way to it. I promise. Thank you, seriously, to every single one of you that have sent requests in for misc. events or when I had my requests open - it means the WORLD to me and I am going to get to it. I just need the time. Anyways, that’s enough of my heartfelt blubbering. I hope you guys like this fic! Xx

A/N 2: I’ve had this saved in my drafts for weeks now and I’ve been dying to post it. I’m not really sure why I haven’t yet, but here it is!! I hope you like it just as much as I do!

“Y/n, how do you think you did?!” Fred asks as he catches up with you walking out of the great hall after your charms exam.

“Good. Didn’t think it was too hard at least.” You reply, stifling a yawn.

Fred notices and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. The two of you have been friends for years and he knows you're exhausted even if you won’t admit it.

You’ve always spent hours upon hours studying for a test, often opting to stay up real late at night. He can’t even count how many times he and George have come back from detention or setting up a prank to find you passed out at one of the tables in the common room.

It only got worse when it was a final. Fred had found you not only passed out in the common room with a book open in front of you or on your lap, but he’d see you with a book shoved in your face as you ate or anytime you had some free time. He’d watch as you almost obsessively run through flash cards.

He adored how dedicated you were to getting good grades, but he often worried about what you were doing to yourself staying up way past the point of exhaustion or eating the bare minimum as you were too focused on the book in front of you. You weren’t taking care of yourself the way you should and it bothered him more than he’d like to admit.

“I’m sure you did more than just good, sweetheart. You excited that it was the last one?”

“Thrilled. I can’t wait to be able to spend the summer going to the lake and camping. You and George have any plans?”

“Not many as of yet. I’m sure George is going to try to find any excuse to see Angelina.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement with the redhead. The two of you have only watched George and Angie dance the line between friends and dating for a year and a half now. They were closer than ever to being together, they just wouldn’t quite admit it to each other.

Walking into the common room you were glad to find it quiet. You’d hate to admit it out loud, but all you really wanted to do is go lay down and maybe sleep for a bit.

“Come hang out in my room?” Fred asked, nodding towards the stairs for the boys’ dorms.

He watches as a tired smile fills your face before you give him a small nod.

“Yeah, alright. You have any products you need testing?”

He chuckles, a loving smile on his face in response to your question. Even though you’re dragging your feet and look about ready to pass out, you’re still asking about him and his passion.

“Not today. Maybe later next week though. I just like your company.”

“I like yours, Fred.” You giggle, following him up the stairs.

“Well obviously, princess. Who doesn’t love having me in their company?” He chuckles, opening the door to his dorm.

“Good Godric,” you roll your eyes. “I think you need to check that ego of yours.”

“You love my big ego though, yeah?”

You shake your head as a smile finds its place on your face. You can’t help but let out a yawn as you take a seat on his bed while he sits down at the desk, watching you get comfortable.

“It definitely makes you interesting, Freddie.”

He smiles, watching as you stretch out, slowly making yourself more comfortable.

“You alright, y/n?” He asks as you let out a soft groan as you curl up in your side.

“Yeah. I’m just really tired, Freddie. Haven’t slept much lately.” You mumble, eyes already closed lightly.

“I’m sure, princess. You just rest for a bit. I’ll make sure you’re up in time for dinner.”

“Thank you.”

He smiles, watching as you tuck one of his pillows under your head. He’s always found you adorable when you’re sleepy. The few times he’s caught you napping in ginny’s room at the burrow, or on the couch down in the common room while your friends all talk, he’s felt his heart melt.

Not wanting to be creepy, though, he turns his attention to a joke product he’s been working on, listening to the gentle breathes leaving your body as you fall asleep.

~.~

You’ve been asleep for about a half hour now and Fred can’t help but admire you. Every time a little groan leaves your lips as you adjust your position, he can’t stop a smile from growing on his lips.

That’s not even mentioning how adorable you look curled up on his bed. Your laying on your stomach, with one leg stretched out while the other is pulled up to your side as you hug a pillow under your head and towards your chest. Your hair is sprawled out over his blankets, afternoon light reflecting of the silky strands.

He watches as your torso slowly rises and falls with your steady breathes and your eyelids flutter with your dreams. He watches as you ever so gently situate yourself from time to time.

He is so enamored with you at the moment he can’t help but want to share his feelings with the world. He’s loved you for a few years now, but he’s never dared let on he does in case you didn’t feel the same. He can’t fathom losing you as a friend, so he never wanted to share something that might make the relationship awkward.

He’s never even told George how he feels about you. When he realized just how deeply he felt for you, he promised himself that he’d keep it quiet. For all you and George knew, Fred only thought of you as a good friend and nothing more. Sure you both knew that he cared for you and would do anything you ever asked him to, but you would never guess that Fred wanted to be able to call you his - that he wanted to be able to hold you and kiss you and shout to the world that he’s dating you.

Fred sighs happily as you continue sleeping, feeling his heart swell with love. Godric how you made him feel.

He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he’s written a few words.

Y/n, sweetheart -

Godric, I love you.

He feels the air get sucked out of his lungs as he reads over what he wrote. He couldn’t possibly have written that right?

Looking over at you cautiously to find you still fast asleep he sighs. He checks the time finding that dinner is still over an hour away. Maybe writing out his feelings wouldn’t be so bad? It’s not like anyone would be seeing them right?

~.~

You giggle as you shut the door on your two best friends as they stumble over each other up the stairs.

As soon as you three stepped off the train, Fred was asking you to come over for a few days, not wanting to part ways quite yet. Writing out his feelings did the exact opposite of what he was hoping. Instead of feeling relieved and getting them out of the forefront of his mind, writing out his love for you had only made him crazier for you.

It was insane how much he felt for you and he couldn’t imagine having you disappear on him so quickly. Hence why he asked you over and you’ve been at the burrow for about three days now.

It’s been amazing spending time with your two best friends without the stress or schedule of classes and tests.

Currently you were trying to escape their wrath for a harmless prank you pulled on them this morning which may have resulted in them both getting drenched in water.

“Y/n, sweetheart, can you let us in our room please? We really would like to change out of these wet clothes.” Fred asks sweetly, attempting to get you to show yourself to them.

“Not yet. You’re going to attack me soon as I do.”

“We won’t. Swear we won’t, right george?”

“Right, Fred. Just let us in.”

“I don’t trust you two.” You admit, trying to catch your breath as you back away from the locked door.

“Why not? We’ve never given you a reason not too.”

“You’re joking right? Must I remind you about your birthday?” You deadpan, taking a seat at their desk in an attempt to protect yourself. If they tried to attack you, you at least had an arsenal of pens and pencils.

“Alright, fair enough. We promise no tricks. Just unlock the door.”

“I really don’t want to. At least I’m safe right now.”

You hear a mix of chuckles and a groan as you curiously look over the contents of the desktop. You frown when you spot a folded piece of paper with your name on it.

Why would they have a paper addressed to you? And what would even be in it? It’s not like anyone has anything important enough to put in a letter for you. If they have something to say they just talk to you.

Without questioning it, you pick up the paper and start reading it.

Y/n, sweetheart -

Godric, I love you. I’ve loved you for ages now but I’ve been far too worried about ruining our friendship to tell you. The only reason I’m writing these words now is because I know no one but me will ever see this.

“Y/n? What’re you doing?” Fred questions through the door when you get too quiet.

I can’t imagine a life without you, y/n. You’ve been the best part of mine since I met you on the train in our first year. The way you’re so unbelievably kind and fun to be around is just one of the many things I adore about you. I could write you a list, but it’d get to be quite long.

Merlin, I wish I could tell you how I feel. I want to scream it to the world I swear. I want to be able to hold you, and kiss you, whenever and wherever. I want to go on hogsmeade trips with you and buy you a butterbeer and be one of those couple’s you’re always fawning over. I want to get you gifts just because I want to see you smile.

You can hear the door click as one of them unlocks it, but you pay no attention to it.

I want to be the one you talk to about anything and everything. I want to be the one to comfort you. I want to be the one to make you smile. I want to fall asleep and wake up beside you each day. I just want you. I’ve wanted you since the middle of second year, but I’m sure you don’t feel the same. I just needed to get this all off my chest.

I love you and I hope you can tell even though we’re friends. I love you, y/n. So much.

“Shit, princess. Y-you weren’t supposed to read that.” Fred sighs from behind you.

You jump slightly at his proximity, not expecting him to be right behind you.

You look up at him as he paces across the room, looking over to George before back at Fred. You frown as you watch him tug at his hair.

“Freddie?”

“Hmm?” He acknowledges, still pacing.

“Will you please look at me?”

“What’s even got you like this? What could you have written that’s so bad?” George questions, walking to the desk as you walk over to Fred.

You watch as Fred chews on his lip as you stand in front of him. You see the anxiousness in his eyes and you’ve never once been more reminded of a scared puppy as much as you are now. Fred looks absolutely terrified, only further proven by how he’s shaking slightly.

“Fred, do you really feel that way? Do you love me?”

“I, uhm, yeah...I-I do.”

You smile, pushing back some of his hair that’s stuck to his forehead from being drenched as you wrap your arms around his neck in a hug.

“You should have told me ages ago. I’ve loved you since second year, too, you goof.” You giggle, kissing his cheek before burying your face in his neck.

“What?”

You pull back to look at him, finding him sporting a look of utter confusion as he stares at you, mouth open.

“What?” You chuckle, cocking a brow at him as you smile lightly.

“Y-you like me too? Like you actually like me? More than as a friend?”

You hear George chuckle to the side of you, drawing both of your guys’ attention.

“Godric, Fred. Never would have pegged you as a sap.” He snorts.

“Be nice, George. Believe it or not, it’s actually really sweet. Write a love letter to Angie and see how quickly she swoons.”

Fred chuckles at your repose while George scoffs, although there’s no hiding the blush that spreads across his cheeks.

You watch as George grabs some dry clothes before leaving the two of you to yourselves.

“So you actually like me too?”

“Of course I do, Freddie. Haven’t you ever noticed how much the girls would tease me when you were around? They were teasing me about you.”

“Bloody hell. They’ve done that for years! I thought it was just how they were.”

“I mean, it is, but they tend to get a bit more obnoxious about it when you’re around.”

“So you really like me too?”

“Yes, Freddie. I like you too. I just need to ask, when did you write that?”

He chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck as he gives you a half smile.

“After our charms final....you took a nap in our dorm, remember?”

“Mhm. Your bed was really comfy.” You giggle, a blush rising to Fred’s cheeks.

“You looked really cute sleeping in my bed and I, well, I may have gotten a little overwhelmed with emotions.”

You smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Godric you’re adorable, Fred.”

“Not as adorable as you, princess.”

“I beg to differ.” You giggle, smiling as he brings you into another kiss, tightly wrapping his arms around your waist.

When you pull away you press your foreheads together, smiling.

“So, do you think you could write that list about the things you adore about me?”

He can’t help the chuckle that leaves his chest as you smile adoringly at him.

“I’ll get right on it, love. Right after I change out of these clothes since someone decided it’d be fun to prank the pranksters this morning.”

You giggle, pressing one last kiss to his jaw before you leave him to let him change clothes.

“I’m glad I found your letter, Fred.”

“I am too, y/n. I love you.”

“I love you too, Freddie.” You smile as you close his bedroom door. Who would have guessed that Fred Weasley would declare his feelings for you in a love letter? One things for sure though, you’re saving that paper and cherishing it the rest of your life.

———————————————————————

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#harry potter #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #hp fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #theweasleyslut's 1.1k sleepover

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neoculturetravesty · 3 years

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We met in online class - Part 7

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, angst, fluff Warnings: Strong language, descriptions of a shiner, a character gets Covid-19 Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: I’m sorry for all the angst, you guys.

You only stop walking when you’re out of the apartment building. Eyebrows scrunched, face scowled like you were trying to hold onto the anger. But the more you had walked, the more you had realized that you couldn’t hold onto something that wasn’t there in the first place. It would be like holding onto smoke: futile and baseless. You weren’t angry. You stop moving to just breathe for a moment. And as the cool night air hits your face, you get a little more clarity in your thoughts. No, you weren’t angry. Not really.

Suddenly, you find yourself smiling to the sky and scoffing. Oh, how stupid. How stupid and how typical. This was classic you. Only this time, you couldn’t believe you had fallen for the broody artsy boy type. The kind of boy that blew hot and cold. The kind of boy that would keep you on edge and never like you as much as you liked him. God, you were such a cliché. Fuck, how embarrassing. So no, you weren’t angry. You were embarrassed. You had spent the last few weeks simping over a boy that never really liked you. God, you were so stupid.

‘The only reason I’ve kept you around for so long is because I wanted to get to your brother.’ His voice echoes in your head.

Your friends had told you that you were doing way too much for a boy you weren’t even official with yet. You had literally spent the past couple of weeks running to him to dote on him. Bringing him food and checking up on him even though you were drowned in work, and making sure he was okay. And all this time, he had been using you. Oh, God. You were like the embarrassing second female lead in every drama ever. The kind that would bring cartons of milk to her crush in the hopes that he would like her back. Only you had actually believed that he liked you back. Oh, how embarrassing.

‘Y/N, you are not my girlfriend. So stop acting like it.’

Oh, how freaking embarrassing. You had been acting like the girlfriend. But you had been the second female lead all along.

You groan and make yourself keep walking. You didn’t want to be near his building anymore. Not where he could step out any moment and humiliate you some more for reading the signs all wrong. You keep walking as your phone keeps ringing. You don’t pick up. You wanted to put as much space between yourself and the building as possible. You walk and you walk till you reach the bus stop. And then you finally sit and take your phone out.

There are around 8 missed calls from Haechan as well as a string of texts. You sigh and hail a cab from an app before you get the spirit to read his messages.

‘Y/N, please pick up.’

‘Where are you???’

‘I can’t find you. Where are you???’

‘Pick uppppp’

‘Can you at least tell me where you are?’

‘I’m calling Yeri.’

That’s Haechan’s last message and you let out another groan. Why did he have to call Yeri? She was going to be worried for no reason. She was already under so much stress with her thesis. You didn’t want her to sit in the apartment and have all sorts of thoughts going through her head about what happened to you. So you text him back.

‘I’m just going home. Don’t worry.’ you write back. Not even ten seconds pass by before he replies.

‘How? You don’t even have your car! And you’ve been drinking.’

‘I called a cab. Don’t worry.’

‘Y/N, please tell me where you are? Let me take you home.’

‘The cab’s already here, Haechan. It’s fine. I’ll text you when I get home.’ you say as you get into the car.

‘No way. Share your location.’

‘The cab’s already moving.’

‘Okay, but share your live location so I know you’ve safely gotten home.’

You sigh and give into his wish. ‘Happy?’

‘I’ve shared it with Yeri as well.’

You groan again, making the cab driver give you a quizzical look through the mirror. ‘Haechan, please don’t bother Yeri.’

‘Text me as soon as you get home. I’m coming over first thing in the morning.’

‘Okay.’ you reply and sigh again, resting your head against the window because it felt like the sort of thing to do in this situation. But it only makes your temple awkwardly rattle against the glass as the car moves. How did people do this in dramas? Look so elegant as they pensively looked out the window? Because right now, you neither felt elegant, nor pensive. You just felt stupid. You feel your phone buzz again and see another text from Haechan.

‘You’re my best friend and I love you to the moon and back. Nothing changes that, okay?’ the message reads and suddenly, you feel tears brimming in your eyes. That’s the first time he had called you that. What a stupid boy he was, Lee Donghyuck. Why did he have to attack you like that with all the feels? Silly boy. Well, at least there was something that came out of this mess.

How had you been so stupid? Renjun had practically told you of his motives on the very first date. He had told you that his lifelong wish was to get into Midnight fucking Arthouse. And instead of staying away, you had run to your brother the very same day to fulfil that wish. The thought chases away the tears that Haechan’s text had brought. You were so stupid. Even your brother had warned you.

“Y/N, I don’t trust his eyes.” Doyoung had told you that afternoon at the party. And you had laughed at him.

“What does that even mean?” you had rolled your own eyes at him, because really, you were watching Renjun into the distance as he talked to another artist. God, he looked so handsome, you had thought as you ogled.

“He just seems like he’s hiding something. He just seems like a guy who would have something to hide.” your brother had warned you and you had just laughed and joked it away.

“I mean, sorry to break it to you like this, big brother, but he’s a serial killer by night. The art student stuff is just for show because when people aren’t looking, his ass goes full Joe Goldberg in You.” you had teased your brother who had exhaled long and put his arm around you.

“Fine, fine. Don’t trust your big brother. Do what you want. I just don’t like him for you.” Doyoung had cut it out for your sake and you had cuddled into him happily because you were so giddy that day. Nothing could’ve spoiled your mood then because the boy you liked had just kissed you. He had held your hand and held your face and kissed you and kissed you and kissed you.

“Of course you don’t like him for me. You won’t like anyone for me because you’re my big brother.” you had baby-talked at Doyoung and cuddled him till he had ruffled your hair and pushed you away.

God, you were so stupid. Did everyone know but you? Could everyone see how he’d been using you? Had your crush on him really been so bad that it blinded you? Oh, how embarrassing. How fucking embarrassing. Well, at least the two of you weren’t official yet. That was a plus. Otherwise, there would’ve been a break up involved. Then again, that would mean that Renjun liked you enough to make you his girlfriend. Or that he would have gone so far as to exploit you like that. Would he have done it? You don’t even want to think about it.

You were fine, really. This was okay. It’s good that he cleared that you weren’t his girlfriend. This whole situation would’ve been sillier if the two of you were official. You chuckle as you enter the elevator of your building. You were fine. Everything that had happened was just a silly misunderstanding. You had just read the signals all wrong. You knock your knuckles on your head. Silly you. It was just a silly crush. You had just chased a boy you had a crush on and it hadn’t worked out. There was nothing wrong with that. These sorts of things happened all the time. You were fine.

But Renjun hadn’t been just a boy.

He had been the boy of your dreams. He had been the boy that had smiled at you over his coffee cup on your first date and you had felt that he looked into your soul. He had been the boy who would wait outside your lecture hall with the most hopeful look in his eyes and you would melt because he wore that look for you. He had been the boy who had laid his head on your shoulder and opened his heart to you and you had thought that you would do everything it takes to give him the world. He had been the boy that had held your hand and made you feel so incredibly safe that day at your parent’s house that you had found yourself falling. He had been the boy who had taken you in his arms and kissed you so sweet that you had felt like flying. He had been the boy who would lay out in the sun next to you and you’d think that everything was alright.

Renjun hadn’t been just some boy you had chased. You couldn’t lie to yourself like that anymore, even though you were trying. He had been the boy you had given your heart to.

You don’t realize that your feet had carried you all the way home till you look up to the door opening on it’s own. And Yeri is standing there like she was expecting you.

“Haechan called me.” she says and you have no idea what she sees on your face because she says “Baby…” in the softest voice before she grabs her Lysol concoction and starts spraying you carefully.

You stand there in the doorway, watching her as she sprays at your feet and takes your shoes off for you with so much love. You don’t know what it was about seeing her face. But anytime you did, all your walls came tumbling down. You could never hide from her.

She looks up at you and whatever she sees makes her speed up her sanitizing ritual. And you realize your shoulders are shaking. You feel the wetness on the tops of your cheeks. You feel the scrunching between your brows. You hear your breath coming out in sniffles. It probably looks like the strangest scene in the world. You, standing there unmoving, looking at her as you crumble in the doorway. And her looking back at you worried, and hurriedly soaking you in Lysol.

Yeri takes your hands in hers and sanitizes them, then takes your purse from you while you do nothing but just stand there, looking at her. She takes your jacket off and then your mask and then finally kisses your cheek and pulls you into her arms. She holds you and kisses your forehead and strokes your hair.

“You will always have me, okay?” she tells you and this time, you’re fully aware that you’re sobbing. Because she puts an arm around you and walks you to your room. She lets you cry as she takes your makeup off for you and brushes your hair. And you watch her attending to you with so much love in her eyes, that for a moment, you’re not sure what’s making you cry. Your broken heart, or her pure, unadulterated love for you.

For as long as you could remember, this girl had been there for you through all your highs and lows. She hadn’t just been a friend. She had been more like a sister. Come to think of it, she had been more a parent to you than your actual parents. You could never hide from her. So when she puts you to bed, you cuddle into her and cry when you tell her,

“I really liked him, Yeri.” Because what was the use of lying to yourself or anyone else? You liked him. You had unabashedly, completely and without any sort of a restraint given him your whole entire heart. And he had broken it. This was something that had happened. So why would you deny it? You had been hurt so you were going to cry to your heart’s content. That’s what people do when they have been hurt.

“I know, baby girl.” she strokes your hair and holds you and kisses the top of your head and your eyes go to your nightstand. You see things that would look like trash to other people. But to you they were the most important treasures.

A paper napkin folded up into an origami crane. Renjun had made it on your very first date.

A can of coke, flattened and leaned against your nightlight. Renjun had drunk from it the first time he came over to your apartment.

A scrap of paper taken from a notebook in a photo frame. Renjun had doodled on it one day as you two had waited for class to begin.

A daisy, pressed and preserved in a little glass disc. Renjun had randomly plucked it from the grass and given it to you as you two had lazed about. It was the first flower he had given you.

God, you were such a sentimental hoe. This boy had broken your heart and you had kept his trash in your room, right on your nightstand so his would be the last thought on your mind as you went to sleep. Realizing that just makes you cry more.

“It’s okay, baby. Your heart’s been broken so you’re going to cry. It’s okay to cry.” Yeri coos at you, echoing your own thoughts. But somehow hearing it from her makes it more soothing. She was right. You had liked a boy and he had broken your heart. It had happened. You were going to cry.

So you laid in Yeri’s arms and let her comfort you. Even Galbi the asshole had joined your pity party as he sat on top of your head and purred, as if he realized you needed comforting and all the purring was going to heal whatever hurt you were feeling. You laid and you cried and you cried till you were all cried out and sleep was taking you.

“That is a shiner.” you say, eyes wide.

“Mhmm. It’s my mark of honor.” Haechan smiles his smug, annoying smile as he leans back in his chair.

The library was emptier than usual, because really, exams were over for most students. So people that lived in and around campus were basically using it as a common room.

“I mean, it’s a shiner as big as I’ve ever seen.” you say, leaning over and lightly tracing the hues of red, purple and black under your friend’s eye. And he just sits there, chin jutting out, smiling broad, proudly allowing it to be touched like a trophy.

“It’s the outcome of me being the biggest little shit, so it goes with the vibe.” Haechan says and you make a face at him.

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took someone so long. Lowkey impressed that you’ve avoided these so far, despite being that professional little shit.” you lightly press the pad of your index on a particularly discolored area and watch as he moves away.

“Guess I’d just been looking for the right reason to get one.” he says, still wearing the smug look on his face. But he must have noticed a change in your expression because he gives you a look of disapproval.

“Hey, stop that.” he snaps at you.

“Stop what?” you retort defensively.

“Stop it with those sad puppy eyes. I don’t like it.” he almost scolds.

“I’m only sad because it’s making you look uglier than usual.” you reply pouting.

“Please. It’s making me look sexier than usual.”

“If ugly was the new sexy, then sure.”

“Yo, he’s not ugly, he’s just not in his moment right now.” he pouts and nothing on Haechan’s face says that he’s joking which somehow makes it funnier.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” you wanna smack him on the head.

“It means that you need to give it till tomorrow to finally see it in it’s full bloom.” he says with the most satisfied look on his face but it deflates you. Shit. This wasn’t even the worst of it. He was probably going to look worse in the next couple of days.

Haechan sighs because you figure he finally sees that this conversation isn’t exactly making you feel any better. So he addresses the elephant in the room.

“He’s an asshole.” he says simply.

“Haechan…” you stop him because honestly, you didn’t really want to talk about it anymore, especially not with him. You didn’t want to be that person that makes mutual friends pick a side. Besides, Renjun had been right. They were technically his friends. But they were also your friends. This was a hot mess already and you didn’t want to add to it.

“I’m only saying it because it’s true. But, also, Y/N…” he’s taken your nickname and his voice has suddenly gone small and so apologetic that you look up, just to check if he’s the one talking. Your stupid friend had a way of never reading the room and keeping up his joking antics no matter the circumstance. So hearing his voice do that got your attention to say the least.

“I, uh…” he goes on and he looks like he’s uncomfortable, like he’s trying to find the words to break some bad news. “He’s an asshole and all, but… I’m kind of the one that put that idea in his head in the first place.” he fesses up and finally meets your eyes.

You jump a bit as you see a strong arm reach over your shoulder and set down a coffee cup on the table with a resounding thud. Jeno has appeared as if on cue and he now has those arms crossed over his chest as he pins Haechan down with a death stare.

Haechan looks up at his audience of two and decides to address the boy that stands there looking like he would most likely complete his shiner set. “I just told him Y/N was Kim Doyoung’s sister! You know he had been dying to get into Midnight Arthouse! And Y/N was the one that asked him out! Didn’t you, Y/N?” he looks at you with eyes that plead for help “I only told him he should accept her date, I promise. But yes, it was my stupid idea and fuck, I wish I could take it back. I’m an idiot and I deserve whatever you want to do to me, Y/N.” he holds his hands up as if in surrender as he watches Jeno’s cold expression and your unreadable one.

You reach your hand over towards him and watch as he closes his eyes and braces to perhaps be punched in the face again. But you don’t punch him. You ruffle his hair.

“Don’t do it again, okay?” you scrunch your nose at him and give him a smile to put him out of his misery.

Heachan lets out a long, dramatic exhale that finally matches his true personality. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” he says, actually crossing his heart over his chest and he looks up at Jeno to seek his forgiveness as well.

Jeno’s expression has softened and he’s smiling, almost as if he had expected this confession and its outcome. He was always more perceptive than he let on. Although his arms are still intimidatingly crossed over his chest as he says

“Follow me to the rooftop, Lee Donghyuck.”

“Yes, yes, I know I deserve it, because I know she’s your childhood friend. But she’s my best friend now and if she’s forgiven me, then--”

“--you’re a piece of shit.” Jeno declares and takes a seat next to you, laying out the rest of the breakfast he got. You snigger and hug onto his arm, as if to thank him for... everything. You and Jeno had never been one to talk things out, but an advantage of being friends for so long was that you didn’t have you. He would understand what you mean, even though all you’d done was held and leaned into his arm.

Haechan looks at the two of you fondly and waits a couple of beats. His voice is soft and empathetic when he says, “He probably didn’t mean those things he said, you know? He was drunk.”

“We were all drunk.” you agree, tracing your finger over your coffee cup.

“He’s an asshole, but… he likes you, you know?” Haechan says and suddenly, you can’t look anybody in the eye anymore. You don’t want to say anything either, because you’re afraid your voice would give you away.

So you purse your lips and take a deep breath before you say “Yeah, well… it doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“I’m going to kick his stupid ass.” Haechan mutters but it only makes Jeno chuckle.

“You mean when you’re not too busy getting your ass kicked by him?” he pokes fun while he feeds you a bit of his croissant. And despite everything, you find yourself laughing out loud.

“Hey! I could totally take him down if I wanted to. I was just holding back.” Haechan puffs his chest and Jeno smiles wider, shaking his head.

“Ugh, you know what. We’re on semester break. We’ve literally been waiting for this time. Let’s just chill before I have to leave.” you declare.

Haechan snaps and points his finger at you. “That is the right attitude, Y/N L/N.”

After that, he goes on and on, talking nonstop about everything you could do while you didn’t have classes, doing the most to make it up to you. You listen to him fondly as you happily enjoy breakfast with your friends.

Down the rows, Renjun had walked into the hall, hoping the library could be his sanctuary for the day. How very wrong he was. Because now, he just watched into the distance as you reach out to ruffle Donghyuck’s hair and Jeno smiles down at the two of you. Unbelievable. Renjun turns on his heel right away and leaves. Because this was unbelievable.

How come Lee Donghyuck came out of this situation unscathed? It was his stupid idea to begin with. Renjun had been happy living his life normally till Donghyuck encouraged him to date you. So how come neither you nor Jeno were mad at him? Renjun was the only one that came out of this as the bad guy. And everyone else just continued on to be one big happy fucking family.

Last night, Jisung had left to stay over at Chenle’s, and Renjun assumed it was so he didn’t have to be in the same room as him. He hadn’t seen Jeno, and it was probably because he had woken early morning to have breakfast with you. The only one of his friends that Renjun saw this morning was Jaemin. But the only thing he had said before he walked out the door was that he was spending the day with his girlfriend and won’t be home either.

It seemed like everyone around him was doing their best to avoid him. He felt like a dementor. Like he was putting out lights wherever he went. Like he was draining hope, peace and happiness out of everyone that came in contact with him. That’s perhaps why his friends wanted to stay away from him.

There was maybe some advantage to that. Renjun wanted to be alone. You had pretty much stolen all his friends. It was clear that they had taken your side in all of this. No one had wanted to know what Renjun was going through. But they were all too concerned about the poor little rich girl. It’s why they were with you this morning and not him. Poor little rich girl that got her heart broken by Renjun the asshole. Of course, no one would want to know the other side of the story, Renjun thinks bitterly.

What was the other side of the story, anyway? That you had been too kind to him? That you had been thoughtful and understanding? That you made so much effort to be a part of his life, and he had made none? That you had put a word in with your brother right after you had first met Renjun, before your relationship had even begun?

You had done everything in your power to make Renjun look like the bad guy. And he realizes that this was precisely the reason he never wanted to look at you ever again. Renjun feels nothing but bitterness in his heart. He had spent all those weeks exploiting your feelings for him. Making you believe that he was interested in you so he could get close enough that you would introduce him to your brother. But all of it had been for naught. Because you didn’t need a relationship or a reason to be kind to people. You had just heard Renjun’s dream and fulfilled it that very same day you had met him. You had granted him his biggest wish whilst wanting nothing in return, expecting nothing back. You had put him in your debt. And he hated you for it.

Renjun needed a break. Because his life seemed to be throwing him more curveballs than he could possibly manage. He wanted to reverse it all. Go back to the time when he hadn’t met you. He should’ve turned you down during that ill-fated online class. Then none of this would’ve happened.

But almost as if the heavens wanted to give him a cruel reminder that all of it, in fact, had happened and he, in fact, had exploited you, he gets a phone call. Whilst he can barely make out the number through his cracked screen, he recognizes the voice right away.

“Huang Renjun!”

“Kim Doyoung.” Renjun replies automatically, because his mind is still processing the irony of it all.

“I have a proposition for you.” Doyoung goes straight to the point and Renjun realizes that he’s not talking to him as your brother right now. He’s talking to him as the owner of Midnight fucking Arthouse.

“Uh, okay?” Renjun says and almost instantly regrets it. He should’ve said something more professional, but he has to admit he has been caught off guard.

“Can you come meet me at the studio in an hour?” he states more than he asks. And Renjun gets the feeling that this man hasn’t been told ‘no’ enough. At least not in this context.

“I… I can.” Dammit. Why wasn’t Renjun able to put more than two words together today?

“Great. Let’s have a lunch meeting at my studio.” Doyoung once again states. Renjun would usually be annoyed when someone was this imposing with him. But for some reason, Kim Doyoung’s boss voice is working on him.

“Okay, see you in an hour.” Renjun says and he’s glad he’s spoken a full sentence this time.

“Great. Oh, and Renjun?”

“Yes?”

“Bring your portfolio along.”

Renjun doesn’t know how long he sits there. The steak that was served to him in a pretentiously off-centered plate remains mostly untouched. Because Renjun couldn’t keep more than two bites down. Not when Kim fucking Doyoung was standing up and flipping through his portfolio without a sound.

This portfolio was Renjun’s lifelong work. Who knows how long he had spent on each piece. Some day, when he had the time, he was going to calculate the number of man hours he spent on building the whole damn thing. And then calculate how many days, weeks or months it amounted to in total. Because the way Kim Doyoung was flipping through it without much care minimized his life’s worth to mere seconds. He had spent hours and hours on each work and Kim Doyoung didn’t even spare more than half an eyeful on each piece.

And not a single word.

Doyoung seemed to be a different person at work than he had been at the party at his parent’s home. Here, he was the Kim Doyoung, and for a moment, Renjun could finally see how he might have risen all the way up to the top. Because every single minute of his life was accounted for. From the moment Renjun had walked in, all he could see was how his assistant kept pushing him from one task to the other. He hadn’t even spent too long on pleasantries before he took Renjun to his office for lunch. And if he thought that lunch for Doyoung would be a time of peace, he was wrong. Because he ate quickly and Renjun couldn’t possibly meet his speed. He supposed that’s how successful people ate. Because every minute they ate was every minute they were not making money. Renjun was only halfway through his lunch when Doyoung had gotten up and started going through his portfolio.

And Renjun hadn’t been able to take a single bite since. His stomach was in knots. He felt small, sitting here in this grand old office in one of the biggest arthouses of the country. Weirdly, Renjun finds himself internally smiling at the fact that Doyoung had called this place a studio. Because, no way. The place that Renjun interned at was a studio. This was a fucking art museum and nothing less.

A finalizing shut of the portfolio is what breaks Renjun out of his thoughts.

“Okay, Huang Renjun, I’m going to cut to the chase.” Doyoung says and Renjun sits up straighter, his eyes and ears attentive and open. “I need new artists for the 2021 Midnight Arthouse Annuale. Every artist that I’ve ever introduced in spring has gone on to become a best seller by winter.”

Of course he knew that. Renjun could name every single artist that had gotten that exposure. But hearing it straight from the man that gave it to them was making goosebumps run down his spine.

“I’ve got two spots to debut artists that no one has ever heard of. And someone put in a very convincing word for you.” he says and Renjun feels his stomach do a flip before it drowns in guilt, because he knows that the both of them know who that someone is. “But I’m going to be honest with you. Nothing I see in here is worthy of the Annuale.” he says plainly. Renjun looks up. His heart drops.

“Um… nothing?” Renjun asks stupidly. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel like the big man that had punched someone in the face from an inflated ego the night before. He feels like the little fish in a sea of big fishes. He feels like someone is finally showing him the mirror and telling him exactly what he’s worth in the context of big names and big opportunities. And it’s a humbling and sobering experience. Because Renjun feels his hangover dissipating.

“This is basically an art student’s portfolio. What you’ve shown me is essentially a series of assignments you’ve made for your professors. Nothing is inspired. Nothing has vision. Nothing in here jumps out at me and tells me who Huang Renjun is.” Doyoung is speaking to him straight up. No niceties. No filters. He’s speaking to him like the owner of a huge motherfucking company and nothing less.

And maybe someone had to speak to Renjun this way and deflate his ego, so he could finally open his eyes to the real world. Because Renjun doesn’t feel angry or broody or venomous over these words. He feels like he has been sobered. He finds himself agreeing with everything that has been said. Like he’s opened his eyes for the first time and finally seen what he’s actually like without his ego or conceit filtering his vision. He was absolutely right. Kim Doyoung had been the one to tell him this before. But sitting here in his huge fucking office, in a building where he was surrounded by art that was in every way better than his… it puts everything in context, and Renjun finally realizes that he had been right all along.

“So, here’s my proposition.” Doyoung begins. “Make me something worthy of the Annuale. And I’ll help you make your debut.”

Renjun’s eyes widen. His mind races. He didn’t have much time. And the stakes were too high. How could he possibly make the best work of his life, the work that would help him launch his dream in a span of two weeks? It wasn’t enough time.

Then again, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. This was make or break. So Renjun doesn’t even think much before he replies “I’ll do it. I’ll show you.”

Doyoung smiles. “I had a feeling you’d say that. In that case, I have another meeting to go to. But my assistant will help you sort out the details. I’m sure you’ll understand.” he says, already getting up and putting his jacket on.

Renjun stands with him. He doesn’t believe it. Suddenly, this opportunity feels too big for his breaches. But it’s there for the grabbing. And he could only ever miss the shot he never shoots.

Yet somehow, Renjun also feels like he’s about to make a deal with the devil. Is this how the unassuming hero feels in movies when he’s made an agreement with the mob boss? Renjun reckons it comes close. He’s not sure whether to shake hands or to bow in these situations. So he stands there awkwardly and does neither as Doyoung walks to his door.

“My assistant will be in contact with you. I look forward to seeing your masterpiece.” he smiles a loaded smile and in that moment, Renjun decides that your brother was nothing like you.

“Oh, and Renjun. The theme is ‘The Past Year’ but don’t tell anybody that.” he smiles and Renjun nods as Doyoung takes his leave. He’s not sure why he’s been given that extra bit of information. He’s not sure if that pointer has come from Kim Doyoung of Midnight Arthouse or Y/N L/N’s older brother. It is a bit of a mindfuck, but Renjun tries not to dwell on it too much. He had to leave his intellectual capacities free for his bigger purpose.

Renjun looks up to see Doyoung’s assistant smiling professionally at him. “Would you like a tour, Mr. Huang?” she says and Renjun once again gets the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory feels he always got around your family’s grandeur. But this was more than riches. This was art from people Renjun had admired and closely followed. Maybe this would give him some inspiration and put him in the right headspace.

“Yes, please.” Renjun says a bit too eagerly before he is led outside.

It is once again, a humbling experience. Renjun had already seen most of the work displayed here in one form or the other. But watching it with the naked eye and up close was a different experience altogether. The art here was in a different league and now Renjun starts to understand what Kim Doyoung had meant. None of Renjun’s existing works came close to what he was seeing displayed right here. He had thought Midnight Arthouse was some sort of a viral launcher. The kind of company that only looked for social media sensations rather than trailblazers and actual talent. But Renjun realizes that he had been massively underestimating them. Kim Doyoung knew what he was doing. Renjun did not.

All this time, Renjun had walked the earth with a chip on his shoulder. He had been envious of everyone who ever did better than him. He had resented every artist that had risen to fame for reasons Renjun could not understand. He had judged every person ever who was well connected enough to rise to the top.

And now, standing here in the majesty of Midnight Arthouse’s proud displays, all Renjun feels is small. Like he’s been served a slice of humble pie. For the first time in a long time, Renjun feels inspired, but not from a place of envy or jealousy or bitterness or vengeance. He feels inspired to make the most out of the opportunity that his life had given him. Because who was he to judge anyone that used connections when he was standing here doing the same? The mere fact that he, a junior in college had gotten a meeting with Kim Doyoung over lunch in his office while his assistant was personally showing him around… that was proof that Renjun had become one of those well-connected people.

Renjun’s initial feeling had been right. This was a deal with the devil. Because Renjun had paid a pretty big price for it. His stomach feels queasy. Was it only last night that he was going around throwing punches and being a general asshole? He doesn’t want to think about it. Because then he’d be forced to remember the faces of all his friends, and he didn’t want to revisit that memory through the lens of a deflated ego and a dissolving hangover. So Renjun is almost thankful when Doyoung’s assistant speaks to him.

“Are you ready for some paperwork? Just some general entry applications and agreements.” she says, still smiling that strictly professional smile.

Renjun takes a deep breath in. He feels unprepared, yet ready. He was going to take this opportunity. Or everything he had done this past year would have been for naught.

“Let’s do it.” Renjun says, nodding.

“Great. Follow me.” she says and Renjun starts walking. Each step forward feels like a heavy, purposeful and loaded step towards his future. Here it was, a few strides away from his grabbing. Forget the past year. His whole life had been amounting to this moment.

Every stroke of his brush had led him here. Every drop of his sweat. Every sleepless night. Every decision he had made. Every heart he had broken. Every friend he had lost.

Renjun was walking towards his goal a man with nothing left to lose. And he had heard that they made the most dangerous men. His future was two strides away now. Two more strides and he’d be one step closer to achieving his life goal.

But when he’s about to make the final stride, Renjun receives a phone call that shatters his entire world as he knows it.

And in that moment, he turns on his heel and runs faster than he ever had in his entire life. The future that was so close that he could almost taste it, now becomes smaller and smaller as it fades into the background behind him. Because Renjun had run in the opposite direction and left it in his dust.

Renjun pushes through the doors and doesn’t even absorb the pain he should be feeling in his shoulder from the force of the contact.

“Where is she!” he yells. He doesn’t feel like a person. Because how much could one person take, anyway? How many times could he be beaten down by the universe before he would fall to his knees and beg to be spared?

He looks around and finally spots the man he calls his father standing near a watercooler, talking to someone he doesn’t recognize. So he has no care about rushing up and getting in his face. Because what more was there left to lose?

“Where is she?” he yells at his face. His father nods a farewell at the unassuming man before he turns to his son.

“In the isolation ward, Renjun. Where else would she be?” his father says and his voice is so calm that Renjun wants to grab at his collar. But he takes in a deep shaky breath to calm himself. It doesn’t happen. So he finds himself yelling again.

“How did this even happen! She hasn’t even been outside her house this entire time!” Renjun is trying so hard to hold back the tears of rage. But they’re threatening to explode any minute now.

“What does it matter how she got the virus? It’s a global pandemic. She has it now, like thousands of people around the world. The doctors are doing all they can.” his father says and if Renjun had been in his right mind, he would’ve realized that this was the first time he had spoken to him in over a year. But all he could think of right now was so what if others had it? So what if every fucking person in the world had it? How dare his father say that?

“How are they doing all they can when she’s on fucking life support?!” Renjun growls through his teeth and he’s inhaling sharp breaths to keep himself from breaking.

“Your mother is with her, Renjun. The best you can do now is pray.” he replies and Renjun wants to hit him. He wants to punch that holier than thou look off his face. His grandmother was probably on her last breath and his father had the audacity to ask him to pray.

“I have to go see her. I have to take care of her.” Renjun turns and looks around, breathing heavily before he begins to move. But his father grabs at his arm.

“You can’t see her, Renjun. Are you even listening to me? Your grandmother is in the isolation ward. There’s only one family member allowed and your mother is it.” he has raised his voice at him.

“She doesn’t know! She doesn’t fucking care about her! I’m the only one who knows! I have to be there with her!” Renjun shouts at him and he’s only acutely aware that he’s sobbing because his words are loud but inchoate.

“Renjun. Son. There’s nothing we can do.” his father shakes his head at him and watches with his mouth open as his son sobs and barges to the door like a madman. Because Renjun will find a way to get to her. No one cared about her like he did. No one loved her like he did. It had always been him and his grandmother against the world. He needed to be there for her. But the hospital staff is grabbing at him and pushing him out while his father watches from a distance like a helpless man.

Renjun is barely aware that he’s doubling over because his tears are blinding him or that he’s been led outside because the cool air is hitting him. He gets up to charge back in but his resolve is so much weaker now and he feels another hold around him, keeping him back.

"Renjun I'm so sorry. Your mother called me. I don't think she knows about us." Yoo Jimin whispers softly as he falls to his knees. She crouches next to him and puts her arms around him.

And in this strange, awful moment, Renjun finds himself realizing that the arms that are holding him aren't the arms that he wanted. The arms that are soothing him and holding him while he cries into the ground are not the arms he craved.

He wanted the arms that had held him that one night while Renjun had laid his head on their shoulder and bared his heart for the very first time. He wants the arms that had enveloped him and had, for at least a moment, made everything alright. He wanted the arms of the person whose heart he had cruelly broken.

#renjun fic #renjun angst #renjun fluff #ficscafe #kpopscape #neowritingsnet #dreamwritersnet #huang renjun #renjun #nct #nct dream #nct fic #nct dream fic #nct angst #nct fluff #nct college au #renjun x reader #we met in online class

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tiny-smallest · 3 years

Text

day one - pride

Rating: G Characters: Henry and Bendy Warnings: none Description: Henry reflects on the definition of labels and belonging in certain spaces.

Also on AO3!

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WHO'S READY FOR THE INK DEMONTH 2021 I SURE ONCE AGAIN TOTALLY WAS YEP DEFINITELY NO LAST MINUTE ANYTHING HERE LET'S GO

Doing writing prompts again because this year has been A Lifetime and I just don't possess the ability to draw this time so let's go let's get stupid get weird enjoy the misadventures of a specific au of of Bendy and the Ink Machine where the toons are their own people in a world they still don't entirely understand and the people who love them who try to help them navigate it.

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Henry was used to a surprising amount of things to interrupt his day first thing in the morning. Easily numbered in the hundreds. His children were toons; there was no end to the amount of crazy nonsense that they could get into when he was asleep, and that was disregarding the fact that Bendy usually slept until noon.

Sure, he was the Troublemaker In Chief. That did not mean the other two were paragons of holiness, no matter how much Alice tried glowing her halo at him while she and her brother gave him the saddest, biggest, shiniest puppy eyes. And that didn't even take into account how much trouble they could find, no mischief intended.

He'd seen smoldering breakfasts, pancakes on the ceiling, saran wrap around the kitchen archway, demonic rubber chicken noises from a saxophone that had a part replaced with the noisemaker from the novelty prank toy...

(He still didn't regret letting Boris chase Bendy for that one without intervening.)

With all that, being immediately accosted by three toons hanging off his legs the second he came down the stairs and all trying to talk to him at the same time did not magically get any easier to withstand.

"Whatever it is, it's a no until I get my coffee," he drawled as he attempted to walk with them hanging off him, the three of them dragged along with him. It was with quite some difficulty that he got to the kitchen counter.

"But Henry!" Bendy whined, "we only got a few hours to get ready if ya say yes! We need every second!"

"For what?" he yawned, pouring a cup from the machine.

"You don't know what day it is?" Alice was surprised enough to actually let go, and she dusted herself off like the lady she was before standing up.

Instantly something cold grabbed Henry's heart and squeezed. "Uh- no I...?"

Had he forgotten someone's birthday? No, it was summertime; Bendy was a winter 'birth' and Boris and Alice were spring and fall. An anniversary of some kind? Quick think what are you forgetting you useless-

"How!?" Bendy gaped at him from down below. "It's been all over the news fer weeks!"

Well okay now he was just thoroughly confused. "I um-"

"The parade, Henry!" Boris's tail was thumping gently against the floor; he was not trying one tiny ounce to hide his eagerness. "The parade that's today!"

"Parade-?" It took just one more nanosecond of thought before it clicked.

"Oh you mean the-!" And they wanted to go to it.

Well, he shouldn't be surprised. This would be the first parade they'd get to see, wouldn't it? And it was nice weather out. And it would be bursting with color, which the toons were darn near obsessed with.

He took a contemplative sip. They weren't human; god even knew if they had any sort of sexuality at all. Could they even feel that stuff? The urge to- do anything like that? Wouldn't that technically make them asexual? That was the word, right?

Well, human or not, that would solidly mean they belonged there. Queer was queer, regardless of species, right? Hell, even if they'd just started asking themselves those questions, or wanted to support the fans of theirs who fell under that giant umbrella, they were valid for being there.

"Sure, I can take you."

Both boys cheered, lifting their arms to do so and releasing his legs. He quickly took a step away from them, but their joy had them leaping to their feet anyway and he watched as they bounced around the kitchen, slowly draining his coffee and trying to curb his smile when he was actively drinking.

It was a hard task.

Their excited chatter melted pleasantly into the background as he took the time to drink and try to shake his brain awake the rest of the way awake like shaking out an old blanket to coax out the wrinkles. Their enthusiasm always made for the perfect background noise.

"What colors do you want?"

"I dunno! There's so many! I don' even know what label I fit in-"

"I saw you checkin' out that guy the other day don't think I didn't!" The wink and nudge from Bendy sent Boris blushing so hard the poor wolf's face turned nearly as black as his fur.

"I was hopin' you hadn't-"

They were all quick to consume breakfast, and Henry retreated upstairs after telling the toons to come get him when they wanted to leave.

He settled comfortably in the limitless, timeless space of art before reality came knocking with Bendy's distinctive tapping at the door, pulling Henry from the space inbetween something and nothing as he set his pen aside. "Come in, kiddo."

When Bendy stepped in with what was unmistakably a rainbow flag on his cheek and extra face paint he knew he was in for a time.

"Oh uh- what's that for-"

"For you!" Bendy said with a giant grin. "Who'd ya think?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah well- I uh-"

Bendy didn't slow down. "Anyway the others are about ready to go but they sent me up here to get your flag on while they finish up- now why they trusted me with the paint I got about as much an idea as you but hey I'm not gonna complain-"

"Aw that's- that's sweet kiddo but I sorta figured I'd just be-" How to say this. "Dropping you off...?"

Immediate confusion. "What? Why?"

"Uh well- I mean-" He fiddled with the pen- when had that ended up back in his hands? "You guys- you have a space there, you know? I'm not sure if I-"

There was now a puckered frown on the little devil's face. "Not sure if you what?"

"Well I mean- I don't exactly- belong, now do I?"

The frown multiplied its intensity by about five. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Aw jeez. He really did not want to discuss this with his kid, as much of an adult as Bendy was. For many reasons. "Uh well- you know-" He gestured, as if hoping that would somehow pluck the answer from the air and implant it in Bendy's brain without having to give voice to it, setting the pen down in the process so he’d stop playing with it. "I'm not exactly- I mean-"

"You like guys." Bendy's voice was so sure that Henry knew making any sort of denial was futile. And also kind of stupid. Why would he deny that to his own son? No of course he wouldn't.

"Well I mean- I married a woman, didn't I?" he finally blurted out.

Unimpressed blinking as he drew closer to stand beside the desk. "Yeah they got a word for that. Several actually. Most popular ones are bi and pan, so which colors is it gonna be?"

"No no I mean-" God he was probably blushing. His face definitely felt way too hot. "I uh- I mean I- I like guys, yes-" great brain thanks a ton totally needed that heart rate spiking why are you acting like that's scary this is our kid- "but I- I married a woman- I like women- more often?"

The blinking was now confused.

"Uh-" How to phrase this. "If- if we split it into a pie chart- it's probably like... thirty-seventy in favor of women?" He ran his fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck again. "I'm- not that I'm any great catch but like, if I was in any way qualified to be in the dating pool again, I'd be way more likely to end up with a lady."

The unimpressed look was back. "And?"

It was Henry's look to be surprised. "And- and that means that, you know- I'm not really-"

"You like guys."

"I- yeah?"

"And you're a guy."

"Kind of a given at this point."

"So you're a guy, and you like guys, and just also happen to like girls too. We got names for that." He gave Henry's shirt an appraising look. "Gotta say the bi colors would complement your clothes best. If you want pan colors I'm gonna have to ask you to change. As your official fashion consultant."

Henry snorted. "My what?"

"Listen Dad I love you but I ain't about to let you walk into that parade wearing like, a pineapple hawaiian shirt or nothin'."

Henry banged a fist lightly on the table and pointed at him. "Liar! You wore the exact same thing just the other day!"

"Yeah but that was to the beach, not a parade."

"Literally when have you ever cared about not being a fashion disaster."

"This time, when Alice'll actually kill me otherwise."

"... Okay you got me there."

Bendy grinned. "So, bi colors or pan colors! Or somethin' else? I think there's other ones too."

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then opened it. What the hell. "... Bi colors, I guess."

"Yesssssss I was hopin' you'd say that." He hopped over onto the table like he'd suddenly become a bunny.

"Oh you were, huh?"

"Listen, the pan folks got pretty colors, but I'm always a sucker for a sunset," he said as he pulled out the pallet he needed. Henry sighed and shook his head, the smile ruining his effort to look exasperated.

"Well. Sunset me then, I guess."

"You got it boss!" Bendy said in maybe the worst mafia minion accent known to mankind.

It was barely five minutes of Bendy painting lines carefully on his cheek before he whipped out a mirror.

"Tah-dah!"

Henry blinked at himself in the mirror. He tilted his head, something shifting inside his heart that he had no name for, no way to voice.

The once proud look on Bendy's face was swiftly dropping. "... I didn't mess it up, did I...?"

"No- no, no." Henry tilted his head. "I uh..."

Bendy's worried browlines screamed anxiety to him.

"... I guess I just look good in a sunset," he said quietly, seeing the little corner of his reflection's mouth turn up as if in some sort of hazy dream.

Better than I thought.

#bendy and the ink machine #the ink demonth #batim bendy #batim henry #batim boris #batim alice angel #henry stein #batim henry stein #strike up the band au #my writing

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celestialmark · 4 years

Text

Lacuna - Part One

“Okay something definitely happened at that gala.”

Taeyong is watching your every move as you pace back and forth your kitchen, grabbing necessary items to make him coffee. He’s sitting by your dining table with brows raised and arms crossed across his chest, analysing your strange behaviour. When you finish pouring the coffee in the mug you set it down in front of him and turn your back on him once again to get started on the dishes piled up on the sink.

“Y/n, stop avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“You’re avoiding my questions.”

“What questions?”

You hear Taeyong sigh behind you. “Stubborn, as always.” You dismiss his comment by continuing with the dishes, hissing in pain when the water from the tap is too hot. You draw your hand back almost immediately and Taeyong rises from his seat in less than a second. He walks over to you and inspects your now raw and red hand, blowing cool air on it gently before you’re retracting it from him and hiding it behind your back.

“Now will you tell me?” Taeyong prods, leaning against the sink, searching your already panic-stricken features. “Did Doyoung confess?”

You snap your head towards him, “Confess? Doyoung?”

“What?” Taeyong asks again, face contorting. “Why is that a surprise to you?”

“Because why would he confess? Confess what?”

Taeyong’s mouth falls open, “That he likes you? As if he hasn’t made that obvious to you already?”

“He doesn’t like me,” you deny and tear your eyes off him to stare out the window above your sink. “No way he would.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes and you see it from the corner of your eye, “For someone who’s pretty smart, you’re actually pretty dumb.”

You drop your shoulders at the same time you release a sigh, lowering your head and resting your hands on the edge of the counter, memories of last night flashing right before your eyes you have to physically close them just to unsee it all.

“If it’s not Doyoung, then what is it?” Taeyong asks, his voice quieter and concern evident in his gentle tone.

“It’s not a what, it’s a who,” you mumble. Taeyong doesn’t say anything and you know he’s urging you to continue with the way he’s leaning forward to catch a glimpse of your face. “Johnny Suh,” you finally say, looking up, the name rolling off your tongue for the first time in so many years.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you sigh again, your mind blank. “He was there at the gala, for a partnership with Doyoung.”

“Oh.”

You turn to face Taeyong, grabbing a towel from below to dry your hands completely. “You know Yong, it’d be really nice if you could say something else other than “oh”.”

Taeyong blinks and bites his lower lip, “Well, I don’t know how to tell you this but.. I kind of knew he was back in the country.”

“What?” You’re glaring at him by now as you place the towel back on the counter. “And you didn’t even tell me?”

“Y/n, I only found out two days ago,” Taeyong explains, taking a step back from you. “I was shocked too, I mean we didn’t have contact with him for what? Five years? I didn’t know how to tell you, plus you had other things on your plate, the gala and everything.”

“How did you even know he was back?”

“He got in touch with me. And the guys.”

“The guys knew too?”

Taeyong nods and presses his lips in a thin line. “Did you know he’d be at the gala?” You ask in a huff.

Taeyong shakes his head. “No. All he told us was that he was back and that he wanted to meet us.”

You press your index to your temple, feeling a slight headache coming on. Taeyong scurries to grab a glass nearby and fill it with water before handing it to you. “What.. happened at the gala?” he asks you cautiously and quietly.

You down the glass of water in one go, hand the empty glass back to Taeyong and forcefully pull at a nearby chair and sit on it. Taeyong takes the seat beside you, leaning forward until he’s resting his elbows on his knees. “He asked me to dance,” you reply, picking at your fingers.

Taeyong’s eyes widen and before he can even ask further questions, you interrupt him, “But we didn’t. Doyoung came in time and that’s when I got him to bring me home.”

“So you didn’t talk?”

You shake your head, “No. Though Doyoung did introduce us to each other. And it wasn't the most pleasant. I had to pretend like it was my first time meeting him. I swear I saw him glare at me from the corner of my eye.” You run a hand through your hair out of frustration. “The world is too small. I don’t want to live here anymore.”

Taeyong consoles you by rubbing your arm soothingly, the sadness in his eyes serving as evidence of how much he feels for you. He knew you hated confrontations, you always ran away from them because you believed that as long as you didn’t acknowledge things, they’d never be able to touch you. But this was something that needed to be addressed and Taeyong knew that you knew that too. He thinks you just need a little bit of a push.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“What?”

“Y/n, he deserves to know. He has-”

“Good morning uncle Yong,” a small voice cuts Taeyong off from digging into the conversation any deeper. He tears is eyes off of you and immediately soften at the little figure standing proudly by the doorway clothed in a fresh uniform.

Taeyong immediately stands from his seat and walks over to the little one with you following suit. “Hey buddy! Are you ready for school?” Taeyong asks as he crouches down to ruffle his hair.

The child nods with a grin, “I am. I’ll just say bye to mommy,” he replies and walks away from Taeyong to make his way over to you.

You instantly wipe away the dazed look on your face and shift your focus onto the figure waddling over to you. You bend down to match his height and you are met by his little hands reaching out to you for a hug. “Have fun in school today okay? Be kind,” you remind him as you give him a tight squeeze. His laugh resonates in your ear and your heart melts. “I love you,” you says as you let him go and fix the straps of his bag on his shoulders.

“I love you more mommy,” he says smiling and eyes twinkling at you.

You walk Taeyong and your child out to the car and wave him last one goodbye before you turn to your best friend who’s already staring at you with questioning eyes.

“I know Yong, I know,” you exhale, defeated.

He sighs in return, feeling guilty for adding to your worries and concerns. He brings an arm around you and rubs his palm on your back in a calming manner.

“You know I’m always on your side. But you can’t hide forever. You know that too.”

“We hope you’re just as pleased as we are about this partnership, Johnny,” Doyoung says with a grin, buttoning the coat of his tux as everyone begins to pile out the conference room upon the completion of the meeting.

Johnny smiles, his eyes forming crescent moons. “Of course Doyoung, it’s our pleasure. We can’t wait to have your furniture across our malls. And plus it was a reason to bring me back home, so I definitely have gained a lot through this.”

“How many years did you say you’ve been away for?” Doyoung asks curiously, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Five years,” Johnny replies, a heavy breath escaping his lips, feeling genuinely elated to be back. “Feels much longer than that though.”

Doyoung chuckles, “Well it isn’t easy being far from home.”

Johnny falls silent and unconsciously begins to stare into nothing when he hears the word home with the distant thought of you somewhere at the back of his mind. Doyoung’s words ring in his ears again amidst the silence and he finds himself slowly nodding.

“Yeah... it really isn't,” he mumbles.

Doyoung leads the way and navigates through his company building towards the exit, continuing his conversation with Johnny about different business matters. When the two reach the entrance, situated by by the lobby, the automatic revolving doors just right in from of them, Doyoung stops in his tracks to face Johnny who does the same.

“So what do you say, dinner? It’s on me,” Johnny offers, thinking that maybe Doyoung could be his first friend upon is return home. Plus, it had always been on his agenda to definitely get to know the people he does business with.

Doyoung contemplates for a second before he’s giving Johnny an apologetic smile, “I’d love to.” He then takes a glance at his wristwatch that’s hidden beneath his sleeve. “But I have to pick up y/n from work. She should be finishing soon.”

Johnny’s ears perk up at the mention of your name and unknowingly, he raises his brow, but brings it back down just in time so that Doyoung doesn't see. “Y/n?”

Doyoung nods, “Remember y/n? She was at the gala. I introduced you guys to each other.”

Johnny nods and feigns ignorance by pretending to finally remember. “Oh, yeah I remember her.” He plasters a smile on his face before he purses his lips into a thin line, his fingers beginning to twitch. “You guys... dating?” He’s not so sure what he’s trying to gain from asking the question, after all, it hasn’t been long since he’s known Doyoung and he was definitely in no place to pry into his personal life but the words are out even before he could prevent himself from saying them.

Doyoung breathes a small chuckle and stuffs his hands in his pockets, blowing air out of his cheeks. “No, we’re not.” And somehow Johnny’s shoulders drop in relief unknowingly. “But I might as well ask her to,” Doyoung finishes.

Johnny tries hard not to show the change in his expression by maintaining a straight face, angling his face upwards so that Doyoung doesn’t pick up on it. “You like her?”

Johnny doesn’t even need a verbal answer because Doyoung’s smile says it all. “Yeah, something like that,” he says, a bashful hint to his voice. Doyoung clears his throat and stands up straight after realising his behaviour. “Unless, you’d like to come and have dinner with us? I'm sure y/n wouldn't mind.”

Johnny is quick to shake his head and shrugs it off with a small smile, “Oh no, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. There’s always a next time. You guys enjoy your night.”

“You’re sure?” Doyoung asks, slightly concerned, the thought of Johnny having dinner by himself popping up in his head.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

You’re waving at the four year old who’s last to leave the preschool premises as he runs to his parents. Doyoung pulls up just in time to see the scene and there’s a smile playing on his lips as he tears his eyes off the family who’s about to take off to land his gaze on you. You wave at him too and gesture for him to wait out here while you grab your stuff inside. It takes you no less than five minutes to come back out and you find Doyoung standing outside, looking at the trees that surround the humble building. He’s quick to take your bag from you and you don’t even notice as you fall into conversation with him about the occurrences of your day.

“Fancy anything specific for dinner?” Doyoung asks as he begins to drive.

Taeyong’s words suddenly echo in your head and as you watch Doyoung’s side profile from the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but think if Taeyong’s assumptions were right. It was either that, or Doyoung was just extremely nice enough for him to go out of his way to pick you up from work every now and again. But then again, Taeyong does that. Jaehyun does that. And Ten does too, and they most definitely do not have any feelings for you.

“Y/n?” Doyoung calls out when he momentarily catches you staring at him.

You snap out of your daze then, convincing yourself you were overthinking and way ahead of yourself. This should be the last thing on your mind right now, “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“Dinner, is there anything you’re craving?” Doyoung repeats, blinking onto the road ahead. He turns to you again briefly, “Everything okay?”

You nod too quickly and keep your eyes ahead on the road, “Y-yeah.” You feel your stomach ache with uncertainty then, the mere thought of the possibility of Doyoung harbouring any sort of feelings for you making you feel unsettled. “Doie, I think I'm going to skip dinner tonight. I’m really sorry.”

Doyoung nods understandingly, “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just, tired.”

“Alright. Let’s get you home.”

“I’m just picking up some groceries,” You say into the phone that’s tucked between your cheek and your shoulder, picking up a bag of potatoes. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Take your time,” Jaehyun says on the other line. “No rush at all, we’re having fun over here.”

“You know I’m beginning to think my own son likes you more than he likes me,” you laugh and continue to weave in and out of the supermarket aisles.

“Well, I’m really good with children,” Jaehyun says proudly.

You rolls your eyes playfully. “Yeah well anyways, talk to you later. Thanks again Jae.”

“Safe home Y/n.”

It takes you another half an hour to pick up everything you need, from basic ingredients for everyday food, general necessities needed at home, to your son’s daily snacks for school. You’re about to head towards the cashiers when the news headlines catch your attention on the TV hanging on the ceiling in the middle of one of the aisles. You hook the basket on the crook of your elbow and fixate your eyes on the LED screen. On it, you find Johnny all suited up in grey, entering a building with a man you remember to be his dad.

“Suh Youngho, the only son of Suh Hyuk, to take over Suh industries by the end of this year,” the headlines wrote. You almost don’t recognise him then and there because of his unfamiliar demeanour. He had a taught expression on his face, hair completely out of his face, and stature well composed. It reminds you of the night of the gala, only then, he looked so much more at ease. He looked like a real businessman; so far from the Johnny you once personally knew; the one who was always smiling, goofying around, dressed in more casual everyday clothes. But then you realise he was the Johnny you remember from five years ago, and you come to a conclusion that maybe in the span of that time, he’s grown to change into this person.

“Y/n?”

You snap your head towards the direction of the voice that had just called you. Your eyes fall to the man who had just been in your thoughts seconds ago. Johnny shifts his gaze from you to the TV he had found you watching and he suddenly feels embarrassed when he finds himself being the centre of the headlines.

“Johnny, hi,” you manage to reply, not being able to help yourself eyeing him from head to toe because your previous thoughts perfectly matched the situation right now. It’s been two weeks since you saw him last and today, Johnny’s wearing a cap over his head, a plain white shirt grazing his torso and pair of black jeans hugging his lower body. Looking at him now, nobody would ever suspect he’d be next in line to manage one of the country’s biggest and most powerful companies. Your eyes catch the bottle of water in his left hand and a black plastic bag hanging in his fingers on the other.

“You’re on the news,” you suddenly blurt out in the midst of your attempts to calm your thoughts.

Johnny smiles a small one. “Yeah- I didn’t know the press would release the news that fast. I only found out a few days ago.”

You find yourself nodding at his words and when his eyes dart to your basket, full of children’s snacks, you get the sudden urge to hide it away from him. So you tug it away slightly and hide it by your side.

“We never really got to talk in the gala,” he says, your heart slowly picking up its pace at the reminder of you pretending not to know him. “How have you been?”

You find yourself nodding profusely for some reason and you feel your palms begin to sweat. Johnny eyes you closely and doesn’t even take his eyes off you even for a second, “Yeah, I've been well, thanks for asking,” you reply even when the shakiness in your voice says otherwise. “Yourself?”

Johnny smiles nonetheless with a nod of his head, “Good, thank you.”

“What brings you here?” he asks again, smiling.

“Groceries. There’s no food left at home,” you half chuckle. “And you?”

“I had this sudden craving for spicy rice cakes on the way home,” he replies, gesturing at the plastic bag in his hands. “And this was the first place I came across.”

A soft laugh escapes your mouth, “Tastebuds missing it here huh?”

Johnny nods, “Tell me about it.”

Silence envelops the two of you for a few seconds with you two just standing there, staring at each other and the only difference was that Johnny’s smile only seemed to broaden as the seconds passed while you remained expressionless, trying to figure out what could be running through his mind. But his smile disappears almost immediately when he remembers his conversation with Doyoung from weeks prior and begins to contemplate if it’s a topic he should bring about. But he decides against it because it was too soon and he didn’t want anything to ruin the atmosphere. After all, it’s been five years and that’s a long enough time for him not to have the right to meddle in your business regardless of your past together.

“Well, I guess I should get going,” you announce finally.

Johnny nods and takes a step closer to you, “Oh here, let me help.”

You don’t even realise Johnny taking the basket from you and securing the handle in his hand because you’re too engrossed with how he’s gotten too close to you for a mere two seconds. Still, you don’t protest when you fully grasp the situation and lead the way towards the tills instead. Johnny follows you silently and unloads your basket when you arrive at a free till. You avoid his eyes when he empties your basket completely, fully aware of how he’s examining the contents of the object that he’s set aside neatly. Johnny doesn’t ask any questions though and you mentally thank him. He takes it upon himself to collect everything inside your grocery bag and after you’ve paid for everything, he carries it and makes the effort to bring it all the way to your car.

“Thanks Johnny. You really didn’t have to,” you say when he finishes putting the bag into the boot of your car.

Johnny smiles and straightens himself after shutting the door close. “It’s nothing. Don’t mention it.”

“Drive safe, okay?” You say to him, returning his smile.

Johnny nods, “You too Y/n.” You’re about to turn away from him to make your way to the driver’s seat when he speaks again. “Let’s uhh.. grab coffee sometime?”

The sudden offer catches you off guard and it’s obvious in the way your limbs grow weak. There’s a bashful smile playing on his lips and a tint of red spreading on his cheeks to match it. Nostalgia seeps through your bloodstream and a part of you wants to say no, fearing for what it might entail, but the other part, the bigger part, pushes you to say yes, secretly intrigued in what coffee might have in store.

“Okay.”

Johnny asks for your number that night and when he dials your number for his to be saved on your phone, you realise it’s the exact same number from five years ago.

“So you’re staying for good?” Ten asks as he takes a bite of his pizza.

It’s a Friday night and the much awaited reunion with Johnny was finally happening in Ten’s house. It reminds Johnny of the old times, of when they were all much younger and caught each other everyday for lunch in university, of when they were all just trying to come to terms with adulthood. Sitting on the table surrounded with friends he spent the most crucial years of his life with makes him feel nostalgic yet happy at the same time. It’s been too long he thinks, it has been way too long.

Johnny takes a sip of his soda and nods shortly, “Yeah. It seems so.”

“That’s good,” Jaehyun, who’s sitting beside Johnny at the round table, grins. “Glad to have you back John.”

Johnny smiles gratefully as he lands both of his palms on his thighs. He sits up on his seat then, straightening his back. “So what did I miss?”

Being the sharp person Johnny is, he doesn’t miss the way Ten and Jaehyun share a quick glance at each other across the table. He raises a quick brow but doesn’t prod.

Ten smiles awkwardly and turns his body to Johnny who’s expecting an answer. “Nothing much really.”

“Y-yeah,” Jaehyun butts in. “Nothing interesting happened while you were gone.”

Johnny laughs and playfully raises a brow at the two. “You sure? You guys look guilty.”

Ten opens his mouth to say something when the ringing of the doorbell echoes through the house. He gets up almost immediately and looks more flustered than he intended to reveal. Jaehyun shakes his head disapprovingly at his friend who is whizzing out of the kitchen and out to the hallway.

“Must be Taeyong,” Jaehyun mutters under his breath before he’s getting up to follow Ten as Johnny follows suit.

“Hey guys!” Jaehyun and Johnny hear Ten say by the front door. Johnny sees you and Taeyong standing by the door, greeting the host when he stops in his tracks just behind Jaehyun.

“Youngho be careful!”

Johnny’s ears perk up at the name that leaves your mouth and before he can train his eyes on you, a small figure runs past Ten and into Jaehyun who immediately scoops him into his arms.

“Uncle Jae I missed you!” he pipes up, making Jaehyun chuckle.

From where Johnny is standing, he sees the face of the child who has his arms wrapped around Jaehyun’s neck and is resting his head on Jaehyun’s shoulders. The child stares at Johnny, his big brown orbs blinking at the stranger.

You on the other hand, witness the whole thing and you have to grab a hold of Taeyong’s arm to steady yourself when you see Johnny inside. Taeyong glances at you and then at Ten and then at Jaehyun who’s absentmindedly entertaining the toddler. His eyes fall on Johnny who’s staring at the child intently, brows furrowed in the middle and expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were bringing Youngho,” Ten whispers apologetically to you, making you tear your eyes off Johnny.

You shake your head in response, feeling a slight comfort settle inside you when Taeyong’s palm rubs your back gently.

“No Ten, it’s fine,” you mumble though not quite convincing yourself or Ten. You certainly missed the memo that Johnny would be present tonight.

You pretend everything is okay during dinner and the rest of the guys get your message when they do the exact same thing as you; pretend. There’s occasional laughter that burst at the table and you laugh along even when you don’t understand what the conversation was about to make it seem like you don’t feel the need to shrink under Johnny’s gaze who hasn’t left you ever since you sat down opposite him. You focus all of your attention to helping Youngho with his food, sitting quietly between you and Taeyong. Every now and then Taeyong would help feed Youngho just so you could have the opportunity to eat as well. You and Taeyong share silent glances at each other and it mostly consists of Taeyong raising his brow at you in pure concern, knowing all too well just how tense you are right now.

“Mommy, I’m full,” Youngho says when you attempt to feed him another spoonful.

You nod absentmindedly and reach across the table for a napkin that’s too far for your reach. Johnny, who’s been watching you this whole time, leans forward to grab the stack so that he can hand it to you. The chatter stops momentarily and everyone’s eyes falls upon the two of you as you take the object from Johnny, muttering a soft thanks in the process. When you settle back in your seat, you wipe away the excess food that had settled on your son’s lips. Youngho smiles at you then and you smile back, grateful that he made everything feel better even without him knowing, and even at such a nerve-wrecking time.

Jaehyun who’s sitting beside you, lands his hand on your arm and uses his thumb to rub it. You are met with soft eyes and dimples and you manage to give him a small smile, bringing your hand to land on top of his as a token of gratitude for his silent acts of comfort.

“So Johnny, I heard about Suh industries,” Taeyong says and it’s only this time that Johnny tears his gaze away from you. “That’s some amazing stuff.”

“Thanks Tae,” Johnny starts. “Actually, me and the guys were just talking about it before you arrived, looks like I’m staying for good,” he finishes and spares a quick glance towards your direction, one that you catch.

You feel Youngho shift in his seat and a second after, you feel him leaning towards you. You lean towards him when you realise he wants to say something to you. “Mommy, who is he?” he attempts to whisper in your ear, but it comes out much louder and you’re sure everyone else heard.

“Baby, he’s an old friend of ours,” you whisper back in his ear. When you sit back on your chair properly, everyone is staring the you and Youngho who’s innocently looking towards Johnny’s direction, in pure curiosity.

“I’m Johnny,” Johnny says suddenly, smiling at your son. Youngho only blinks up at him, the unfamiliarity of the stranger making him hide behind Taeyong’s arm. “I’m a friend of your mom’s. and your uncles’.”

Ten eyes you carefully and you nod at him, reassuring him you’re okay.

“What’s your name?” Johnny asks and you close your eyes momentarily before gazing at your son who by now has scooted fully towards Taeyong’s side. You wait for your son to answer and you hold in your breath.

“Y-Youngho,” your son replies.

You’re the first to excuse yourself for the night when Youngho falls asleep in Jaehyun’s arms. You’re unsure about the turn of events, especially after tonight but seeing Johnny tonight really sucked the energy out of you and so all you want to do right now was to get away and not think for the rest of the night. You know there are questions that need to be raised and issues that need to be cleared but for a second time, tonight at least, you choose to run away.

“Thanks for the dinner Ten,” you say as you give him a hug by the front door of his house.

Ten responds by hugging you tighter, “Thank you for coming, and I’m really sorry about tonight,” he murmurs into your ear.

When he lets go of you, you only smile at him, knowing all too well that nothing was his fault.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Taeyong asks as you reach up to hug him next.

“I promise we’ll be okay,” You reassure him, hugging him a little longer so that the nerves inside of you would calm.

Taeyong caresses your hair and tighten his arms around you when he feels you not letting go anytime soon, “You did really well tonight. And don’t beat yourself up too much alright?”

You nod against his shoulder before peeling yourself away from him. Johnny only smiles at you when you reach him next and it’s a smile that knocks air out of you. You awkwardly shift in your spot, not really knowing what to say to him because you knew. You knew that even when he’s here, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary, he had burning questions that needed to be answered by you.

“We’ll get going then,” you say, earning a nod from him.

You don’t say anything more as you turn on your heels to walk out of the house and towards your car with Jaehyun carrying Youngho in his arms.

“What a night, huh,” Jaehyun says after he straps the sleeping Youngho into his car seat.

You exhale a breath and feel your shoulders slump out of exhaustion. “What a night indeed.”

“You think he knows?” Jaehyun asks softly when he embraces you.

Your limbs feel weak beneath Jaehyun at the thought and focus on inhaling the lavender scent of his shirt instead.

“I have no idea.”

518 notes · View notes

nano--raptor · 4 years

Text

It’s Time

Pairing: Alpha!Hal Carter x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, heats, horny Hal & reader, cursing, sex, smut, soft smut, smutterfluff, feelings and love, softness, etc.

A/N: I hope y’all don’t mind another suuper long drabble… this one got away from me but I just love writing about thoughts and feelings and stuff. I can’t help it! Sorry for the wait on this one, anon, but thank you for this inspiring prompt. My first Hal fic and my first ABO fic!

Written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club ongoing Drunk Drabbles. Enjoy, thank you all so much for reading!! 😘

-----

You'd spent the better part of the afternoon rearranging the furniture and collecting every blanket and pillow you could find in your large farmhouse, ending up with a very impressive nest in the corner of your living room. You couldn't wait for Hal to get home so you could show him.

Love bloomed in your chest when you thought about your alpha, but it quickly changed to something more carnal, a confirmation that your heat was indeed coming and your day’s work hadn’t been in vain. You had a few more preparations to make, so you hurried to finish up, collecting supplies and stoking the fireplace. You looked over your work and smiled, then turned your attention to the living room window, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

It looked like the weather was worsening, they were forecasting a storm this weekend, and you were secretly relieved. It was looking like the perfect weekend for everything to happen; you were going into heat and the two of you would be snowed in at home. Perfect. You smiled and your stomach flipped in excitement, your anticipation making you wet already. You added one last log to the fire before you hurried upstairs to change, picking out some lingerie that you knew your husband loved. After throwing a silk robe on overtop you sauntered back down to your nest, getting comfortable in its midst, thoughts of your mate quickly becoming the only sane thoughts in your head. It was time. You needed him to come home, now.

-----

The storm was moving in quickly, and Hal trudged through the snow drifts back to the house. He was glad he didn’t have plans to go anywhere this weekend, navigating through such a blizzard was always difficult. He was looking forward to a weekend in, watching movies, maybe cooking a nice meal with his mate. He smiled as he thought of you, and was looking forward to seeing you after a hard day’s work.

The scent of your heat hit him like a tidal wave as soon as he walked through the door. Oh. Now he was very glad that he didn’t have anywhere to be this weekend, his desire for you quickly overpowering every other thought in his mind. Your scent rolled over him, enticing him, caressing his senses and causing warmth to slither down his spine into his belly. Hal felt his cheeks heat up despite just coming in from the cold, and hurried to remove his thick winter coat and boots. He strode into the house, stopping in the living room doorway and leaning casually against the door frame. His cock twitched eagerly at the sight before him.

“What’s going on here, sweetheart?” he drawled, knowing his suave demeanor would light a fire in you. The sight of you cuddled up in your nest was adorable, but the gesture itself ignited a need deep within him, and his mind was already growing cloudy with lust. Almost all other thoughts were forgotten, and he longed to dive in there with you and claim what was his, but he wanted to play with you a little bit first.

“Hello, my Alpha.” Your breathy voice and use of his rank pulled a small whine from Hal’s throat. His jeans were growing tight and it was so hot in here. He stripped his shirt off as he stalked towards your corner, crouching down at the edge of your nest. He reached out to cup your face, stroking your cheek, and his heart leapt into his throat as you nuzzled into his hand, love and adoration shining in your eyes.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. Your eyes fell closed and a soft sigh escaped your lips, sending a shiver across Hal’s skin. “You’ve been busy today, Omega,” he praised, your body’s reaction to his words driving him wild. The scent of your arousal was so strong and inviting, he knew he wouldn’t be able to wait much longer. He had been hungry when he got home, looking forward to a warm meal and a warm shower before settling in for the evening, but the situation at hand had caused all of that to fly out the window.

The only thing he needed now was you.

-----

You grinned and whined eagerly when Hal got home. The clamour of the door opening and closing against the cold winds, heavy boots on the floor and then complete silence as your scent hit him made you squirm. He knew. It excited you so much. Then the way he strolled into the room and held himself so casually, playing innocent when you could see the desire on his face, his scent filling the room now too, it sent a thrill down your spine. Heat pooled in your belly and just the sight of him caused slick to form between your already damp thighs. You shifted amongst your blankets and greeted him, breathless already, enticing him to come closer.

He whined, a primal sound that set your skin on fire, your body yearning for him, your Alpha. He strode over to you quickly, shedding his shirt along the way, and your mouth watered at the sight of him. You needed him, needed his hands on you, needed to touch him and feel him and get as close to him as you possibly could. Your need was almost overwhelming. When he cupped your cheek in his strong hand, his touch sent a jolt to your core and you leaned into the touch, craving him so badly. It was electric, and you gazed up at him, almost forgetting how to breathe.

Hal’s bright blue eyes had darkened significantly, your day’s work speaking volumes to him. When he called you beautiful and praised your efforts, and when your rank fell from his lips you thought you were going to die right there in his hand. He smiled.

His hand trailed down from your cheek, along your neck to your collarbone, lightly tracing across it. His fingers left a heated trail along your skin, and he slipped them beneath your robe gently pushing it open to reveal your lacy lingerie underneath. A hum of approval rumbled through him and he trailed his fingers further down, across your stomach to the waistband of your lace bottoms. Your chest was heaving already and he was barely touching you.

“Alpha,” you gasped, feeling sweaty and starting to ache for him. “I need you.” Hal’s eyes flicked back to yours, they were hungry, but soft and loving.

“I know, sweetheart,” his voice was low and smooth, but he was quickly losing his resolve, your scent and pheromones having as much of an effect on him as his were on you. His hand curled around your waist and then trailed back up your side, sending shivers across your skin, and up to your neck again. “Is all this for me? For us?” He asked you so gently, all you could do was nod shyly, entranced by him, following his fingers as they drew you towards him. His lips brushed against yours in a sweet kiss that quickly became heated and desperate. You ached to touch him, bringing your hands to his chest and quickly curling them up to his neck and into his hair.

His scent engulfed you and you whined desperately into his mouth. You needed your alpha so badly, you couldn’t think of anything else. Hal didn’t need much coaxing to tumble into the nest with you, keeping his mouth on yours as you fell backwards into the welcoming soft blankets, his strong arms and body caging you in. He pressed kisses along your jaw, along your throat, sucking on your mark before kissing further down and running his tongue along your collarbone. Your hips bucked upwards and you gasped, surrendering yourself to your mate.

“My beautiful, perfect omega,” Hal moaned against your throat and all but cried at the praise.

“Please,” you begged him. “Please, I need you.” Your voice trailed off as he continued kissing your throat, and you could feel him smiling against your skin.

“Shhh darlin’, it’s ok, I’m here.” He kissed back up to your lips, and then lifted you up slightly to get you out of your robe. He laid you down again and sat back on his heels to take in the sight of you. The way he looked at you drove you wild, and you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze, arching your back and bearing your throat.

“Fuck,” he growled under his breath, reaching to undo his pants. “So gorgeous.” He shed his jeans quickly and engulfed you again, burying his face in your neck and kissing your throat again. He couldn’t get enough of your scent, and you were getting drunk off of his. You started moaning incoherently, gasping and begging for him, your hands scrambling over his back. Hal reached down to push your panties out of the way, and when his cock teased your velvety, soaking entrance, he growled, and it sent a shiver up your spine so strong that you shivered violently in his arms. He cupped your chin again, steadying you, and forcing you to look into his eyes. You blinked, trying to pull yourself out of a daze.

“I love you,” he whispered, and your heart melted.

“I love you too,” you replied, and then he was pushing inside, and you swear you whited out for a split second, your world finally crashing into a perfect alignment.

Hal set a steady pace, but it quickly became more frantic as his need for you overtook everything else. You clutched at his back, feeling the way his strong muscles rippled beneath your fingers, and he buried his face in your neck, the both of you desperately clinging to each other. Your pants and gasps along with his needy moans filled the room, and before long you could feel the delicious drag of his knot, inflating and catching as he thrust in and out of you. You mewled his name, getting close already. Hal pressed sloppy kisses to your throat, moaning your name incoherently, his thrusts turning sporadic. His groan shook you to the core as he came hard. He filled you up and you screamed his name as you came too, your climax crashing over you when you felt his knot inflate completely and lock you together.

After a few moments you had to tell yourself to relax and untangle your limbs from around him, and he rolled the pair of you over, holding you close and stroking your hair.

“God, you’re so amazing,” Hal praised, still panting and sweaty. You hummed, satisfied for the moment, enjoying the bliss from your orgasm and your mate’s warmth and scent surrounding you. The two of you dozed on and off, cuddling in each others’ arms, completely shutting out the world outside. Soft kisses and sighs peppered hot skin, and before long your body was craving him again, his scent driving you wild once more. You buried your face in his neck, nosing against his scent gland.

“I need you again, Alpha, I need more.” You grazed your teeth against his throat before rolling you both over again and looked down at him with hungry eyes. His gaze matched yours, he looked hungry, predatory, but also completely relaxed and sated. He hummed and brought one hand to your waist, while his other arm stretched up behind his head.

“You need more of your alpha, ‘mega?” You nodded your head and rolled your hips slightly, drawing a rumble from Hal’s throat. His knot had pretty much deflated but he was still inside you, and you could feel him growing hard again. You bit your lip and decided to tell him something that had been nagging at your mind for a while.

“I need more of you. I need more of us. I think it’s time.”

“Time for what, sweetheart?”

You lay your weight down on his chest and brought your hand up to the side of his face, your voice barely a whisper against his lips.

“Time for pups, my love.”

Both of Hal’s hands shot up to cup your face, and you giggled at his expression. He held you just far enough away that he could stare into your eyes, his own holding a mix of shock, surprise and adoration. His mouth parted in disbelief, his voice a hushed whisper like your own.

“Really?”

You nodded and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, but the fire in Hal’s belly wouldn’t let it rest at that. He crushed his lips against yours, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you as close as physically possible. His hips rolled up into yours and you had to pull away slightly as a moan escaped you. Hal growled, his cock stretching you now, and he carded a hand through your hair. His eyes were blown wide with lust and want.

“I fucking love you, Omega. You’re incredible.”

“I love you too, my Alpha, more than anything in the world.”

He pulled you close, kissing you again with all the fire in his being, wrapping himself around you. You barely left your nest at all that weekend, perfectly consumed by each other as you made love over and over again, the storm outside completely forgotten.

-----

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the-melting-world · 4 years

Text

Aftermath | “Black Flies”

~ In which Ozy writes a letter to Kipling…

@arcana-echoes

This 🕯 is scented with “Black Flies” by Ben Howard

~ 480 words

Somewhere out at sea in between Prakra and the Melting World a sealed glass bottle bobs on the waves. Inside is a letter.

***

Cousin,

How was your trip across the ocean? Wherever you go, I hope you get the chance to see every port city and experience as much as you possibly can! I also hope that one day you can forgive me. I wonder if you already have and I just don’t know it yet. Have you forgiven yourself? I know you blame yourself for what happened that day as well. I said this before and I’ll say it again. We were children, Kip. We made mistakes. All of us. Even Khleo.

If you’re still reading this past this point, thank you. I know this stuff is not easy to hear. But I’m not done yet. What happened after the Door closed… you were angry, Kip. I get that now. What you did, it hurt. It really, really hurt, but it doesn’t anymore. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re my cousin. My family. So you can imagine how hard it was back then. To be so powerless when those monsters I’m forced to share the same name with did what they did to us… to you…. I have to figure out a way to make it stop.

So here I am, just me and Abaco, writing this letter in the belly of the precursor archives. The Elders showed it to me the day you left and guess what? It’s huge!!! You can see the whole reef from down here, and all the fish and the whales and the sea turtles. And there’s books and scrolls everywhere! You would love it here.

The only thing is… I can’t leave. Not until I learn and master grey magic. All of it. And that might take a while. I like all the ancient precursor stuff down here, but it gets really lonely sometimes. Though the quiet is great for studying and all, it scares me too.

Listen Kip, no matter how long it takes me, I’m going to find you and show you everything I’ve learned. I’ll be a better teacher this time. I’ll be more patient, I promise. You’ll see.

Then, we can go look for Khleo! I know he’s still out there. As soon as you and I can navigate all the portals, we can go get our friend back. Then the three of us will finally be together again. Soon.

Hey Kip? One more thing. Remember that poem you started? Well, I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and I sort of… finished it. Please don’t be mad at me!

With all my mind, body, and heart,

~ Ozy

***

Earth took you far But never forget Water brought you here We all start somewhere Listen to your inner fish Bubble-breath full of warning Of the ocean at your back Swelling, tugging tidal energies Rising Over sediment, above continents Skyward, and higher Waterworlds See? They lord Over you. Over us all.

#arcana eotp #ozy the grey mage #oz'mandias #kip of wands #kipling the apprentice #my writing #arcana album: the interlude

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1-800-imagine · 4 years

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as fate would have it

ushijima x reader

✎ genre: angst

✎ warnings: break ups, the feeling of bringing someone else down, tiny timeskip spoilers

✎ word count: 1.3k

✎ nonsense: uh. this is not only the first angst piece i’ve written, but also one of the first fics leaning on the longer side -- so it’s kind of just one big ramble. on a side note: requests are open, and i’ll be sure get to them as soon as i possibly can!!

✎ synopsis: you and ushijima thought you could make it as a couple. fate had it otherwise.

“do you think fate is real, ‘toshi?”

ushijima turns his head over to look at you, who was still laying there and looking up at the white and pink petals of the plum flowers as they filter down. in his eyes, you looked so innocent -- like a small child. “well,” he began to formulate a response, “fate is a rather broad term, do you think you could specify?” like always, he was blunt. there was nothing restraining him from the truth of his thoughts. you had let out a small little sigh, as you flipped yourself over to meet face to face with the boy.

“it’s like soulmates in a way, you know, where everything happens for a reason.” you did your best to explain. ushijima opened his mouth to speak, only to stop himself so you could continue. “like everything, both good and bad, happened so we could meet.”

“i believe in fate, if it’s what brought me to you.” his words made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. they told you that he was grateful this world pulled the two of you together, which he was. he was happy to have you by his side, cheering him on every step of the way.

that was ages ago, a distant highschool memory, and now it’s time for those plum flowers to fall again.

nowadays, ushijima is no longer a boy -- but a man. he has a job, which of course would be a division one volleyball star. but he still continues to take the train. the hum of the automated voice alerts him that the train has arrived at where he needs to be. ushijima is easily able to maneuver through the crowds of people, considering his taller stature. he’s still chivalrous too, allowing others to pass by before him.

finally, he makes his great escape from that overpopulated train station, and a familiar figure catches his eye almost immediately. there you are, admiring those beautiful plum flower petals once more. he has the urge to waltz on over to where you stand, and give you a big, bear hug. however, the situation is different this time around. he didn’t actually expect to see you, since you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours anymore.

it’s been a little while since he last laid his eyes on you, but you still look the same to ushijima. your (h/c) hair remains the same length, and those beautiful (e/c) eyes finally regained their sparkle once more -- no longer dulled by pain and despair.

he recalls the day he saw those orbs lose their happy little glimmer of light.

it was late one night, and ushijma had just returned to your and his shared apartment you bought shortly after graduating highschool. he looked up at the clock mounted on the wall, which read half-past eleven. then he looked at you, who was sleeping on the couch, lightly snoring. you must’ve been waiting for your boyfriend to return. clearly, you had expected him to arrive earlier than he did. plates of picked-at food sat on the table, while some random cable was running on the tv.

ushijima picked your body up off the couch, holding you bridal style in his arms. he did his best not to wake you as he navigated through the apartment. but that seemed to have backfired on him. “‘toshi,” you drowsily murmured, “is that really you?” he nodded, a sign of confirmation. “yes, it is i.” his voice was gruff from the long day. you carefully thought out the next words you were going to say, and a lump began to form in your throat.

“i think we need to talk, ushijima.”

the matter must’ve been serious. you’d never use his surname since high school. back then the two of you were strangers to each other. in all honesty, that’s what you two felt like in that moment: strangers. ushijima set you down. you gracefully fell from his hold, distancing yourself from him a little bit.

“ushijima,” you uttered, “i don’t think i can do this anymore.” while the man who stood before you may have looked undisturbed on the outside, he was shaken to his core on the inside. “i think it would be best if went our separate ways.” the words rolled off your tongue, and tears began stream down your cheeks.

saying those words pained you so much, but you knew you had to say something sooner than later. it was like ripping off a bandaid.

ushijima was making swift progress in his volleyball career, and you did your best to support him to the ends of the earth. but something inside of you was saying that you were dragging him down instead. gradually, you felt like you were preventing him from achieving the greatness he was destined for, and you couldn’t watch as he held back for your sake.

a strong hand cupped your cheek. “i don’t think same way.” sorrowful eyes met ushijima’s, taking his hand in your own and pulling it away from your cheek.

you returned his hand back to him, and he felt something in his palm. it was the promise ring he had bought for you when you graduated. ushijima’s eyes widen. he glanced at the ring, then stared at you in bewilderment. there was no way you were serious about this -- it all had to be a joke. but then you spoke, “it’ll be for the best. you’re destined for grand things, and i can’t sit still while you waste it for me.”

ushijima’s tongue felt heavy, like a huge anchor holding him from saying anything. this was probably one of the first times ushijima wasn’t capable of speaking his mind, and it was probably the reason he let you fall through his fingers.

“good-bye, wakatoshi” you mumbled before slipping out the door and slipping out of his life.

he woke up the next day expecting you to be by his side -- expecting you to come back to him. but you weren’t. you had gone to stay with a friend that night. and the night after that. and the night after that. soon enough nights turned into days too, and those days into weeks. during the days when ushijima wasn’t in the apartment, you came by and packed up your stuff. leaving the living space without a trace. not even your scent lingered in that apartment.

everything had happened so quickly, and now it had been years.

every memory is still so fresh in his mind, like it all had happened a few days ago. but it didn’t, and as fate would have it, you were brought back at square one: complete and utter strangers.

while ushijima did his best to pick up all the pieces, the minute he saw you standing there he pretty much melted into the sidewalk. something within him yearning to call out to you, a lump forming in his throat. he wants to tell you how badly he needs you cheering him on, that you were wrong and there was no reason for the two of you to split up. ushijima begins his approach, his heart filling with hope; however, someone else gets to you first. you greet them with a wide grin and a warm embrace before turning and walking away.

ushijima stands there as the form of you and your supposed new “lover” drift away. his head wanders to fictitious scenarios where things had gone another way. maybe if he had chosen differently back then, you’d still be by his side. maybe it would be him, who’s tight embrace you clung onto. maybe it would be him, making eager smiles adorn your face. but it wasn’t, and his once hopeful heart sunk in his chest.

in the end, maybe you weren’t fated to be with ushijima; as he wasn’t fated to be with you.

#haikyuu!!#hq imagines #hq angst #hq x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima x reader angst #ushijima angst

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kingreywrites · 4 years

Text

Make my messes matter - Chapter 1

Fandom: Tangled

Word count: 1515

Summary: A series of seven ficlets focused on Rapunzel learning to navigate life in different ways after living eighteen years in a tower, with Gothel as a mother.

Chapter Title: Touching

Read on ao3

Note: This is quite different from my usual stuff, but I hope you’ll like these anyway! And happy birthday Rapunzel ;)

Rapunzel had always seen touching as a calculated risk.

It wasn't that Gothel had never touched her, or that she herself had never initiated contact - it was that it had never been a casual thing. When Gothel had touched her arm, or kissed her hair, or booped her nose, there had always been a hidden message behind it. Even as a kid, when Rapunzel had revelled in every inch of affection her mother had been willing to give her, she had understood pretty quickly her silent cues. Sometimes, touching her hair meant that Gothel wanted her to stop talking; sometimes, grabbing her arm was a command to do as Gothel said; sometimes, hugging her was a threat. Stay with mommy, Gothel would whisper in her ear as Rapunzel melted into the contact, you wouldn't want me to be heartbroken?

Of course, being raised by a manipulator, even if she hadn't exactly known it, meant that Rapunzel herself was often guilty of using touch as a mean to an end. A calculated risk - and Rapunzel was pretty good at calculating.

Though she tried very hard to be subtle about it, she had known what Gothel thought of contact - and had used it once or twice to her advantage. If her mother was too busy pushing her off her arm, she wasn't as focused on what Rapunzel was asking. If her mother was very mad about something, Rapunzel knew that making her hair brush against her skin was a sure way to distract her. Gothel had been a smart woman, who wasn't easily duped - but Rapunzel was smart too. Even if her strategies didn't work every time, it often helped her maintain the status quo.

Of course, everything changed once Rapunzel left her tower.

At first, she had thought that Eugene - well, Flynn at the time - used touch the same way she did: to get something in return. He did put a reassuring hand on her back when he had wanted to convince her to go back to the tower; he had pushed her further into the Snuggly Ducklings even though she was trying to back off…

And then, in the flooding cave, he had gently gotten her hair out of her face to look at her eyes and calm her down.

"Eugene Fitzherbert," he had said, a little and vulnerable smile on his lips, and Rapunzel had to rethink everything she thought she had understood about him, even as she revealed her biggest secret in return.

Touch, she learned that day, could simply be. It could be a hand on the small of her back, as she watched the little flag he had gifted her; it could be the pressing of his tights against hers, as they perused books together; it could be a hand on her cheek, as warm as the flames making the lanterns float, as he leant in to kiss her…

It could be that same hand, on her same cheek, this time colder and weaker and unable to hold itself up without her help as Eugene died in her arms.

When touching had been a matter of calcul, it had been easy - but touching Eugene was anything but easy. It was burning, it was new, it was painful and it was the best thing she had ever experienced. It was a hug she couldn't contain as he breathed again, it was him holding her hand when she was nervous…

It was love, given freely, unconditionally. Rapunzel couldn't help but be addicted.

But if Gothel had been cold and calculated, and Eugene was her polar opposite, Rapunzel soon understood that not everyone saw touching the same way. Rapunzel discovered the world, and just how wide it was, and, at the same time, she discovered people, in all their differences.

For example, her parents never refused a hug, but were obviously not as comfortable with it as she was. Now that she knew how good touch could be, Rapunzel couldn't help but crave it, hoping to catch up on years of lacking - and bear hugs were a personal favourite, even though it wasn't always welcomed.

Timing was also an important factor, and her father had to give her a talk about appropriate times for hugging (as in, not in the middle of a royal council). That was something she understood pretty well, actually, and didn't have much trouble assimilating after some mistakes along the way. There was still a part of calcul within all this touching business, even if people didn't want to admit it.

Except for Eugene. He never used touch as anything but what it was, however, Rapunzel learnt quickly that Eugene's touch was quite different from everyone else's.

Anyway, her biggest touching mystery had been, without a doubt, Cassandra.

"She told me she didn't like hugs," Rapunzel explained desperately to Eugene as she was, quite ironically, cuddling with him on her bed. "Is that normal?"

"Well, she is a dragon so- okay, okay," he laughed when she glared at him, "very serious issue here."

"It is to me."

"I know," he whispered, his grip on her waist tightening as he softened, "I didn't mean to make fun of you. As for your question, yes, there's plenty of people out there who are not tactile and who don't like hugs. I didn't like hugs before you!"

"That sounds like a lie," she snorted, "you're even cuddlier than I am."

Eugene gasped dramatically in mock-offense, and then tickled her to get back at her, and they kinda lost the point of the conversation between a laugh and a kiss.

"The thing is," Rapunzel explained to Pascal some time later, who was wearing his best focused face as he stood in her palms, "I know that Cassandra likes me. And I like her, a lot! Shouldn't touching bring her comfort?"

"It does," a voice that was decidedly not Pascal answered. Rapunzel startled badly, nearly throwing Pascal in the air in her panic, and turned to see Cassandra looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"Cass!"

"It does bring me comfort," she continued with a shrug, going to sit next to Rapunzel on her bed, "but only if it's when and where I want to be touched."

Rapunzel glanced down at Pascal, before meeting Cassandra's eyes. It was rare for Cass to talk so honestly to her, and Rapunzel didn't want this to end but, to be honest, she was pretty embarrassed to have been surprised by her friend.

"Listen Raps," Cassandra sighed, "I've never been too touchy-feely, but I swear that it's not against you. It's just how I am."

"I'm sorry," Rapunzel answered softly as Pascal climbed to her shoulder, "I- I guess that I never quite learned how to deal with my emotions and so, when I'm happy I just want to show it. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Well, I never had a friend like you, Princess. We'll both have to learn how to deal with the other," Cassandra smiled, even if her tone betrayed some kind of nervousness.

Rapunzel grinned, vibrating in place until Cass admitted that she wouldn't mind a hug right now - which resulted in her being tackled by an all too eager Rapunzel, who had waited for this occasion for quite a while now.

Touching was not, in fact, a calculated risk - at least it shouldn't be. Rapunzel understood that lesson quickly, but had a lot more trouble applying it. With Eugene, it was easy - most things were with him. Sometimes, when Rapunzel felt like she needed someone to hold her together, she knew she could run up to him and he would open his arms without an ounce of hesitation. Eugene wasn't scared of touching, wasn't scared of the risks that Rapunzel had spent her childhood being mindful of; he gave everything freely.

(Well. With Rapunzel mostly. But, through the years, she would see him hug Varian, Lance, Angry and Catalina, her parents, his father - and so on and so on - and she would know for sure that he was cuddlier than he liked to admit.)

However, Rapunzel herself tended to forget what it was really supposed to be. Sometimes, she surprised herself being the calculating one - hugging her father because she wanted something from him, or using touching as a way to distract someone and these- these were the worst moments. Sometimes, at night, when she felt particularly alone, she would worry that she was truly Gothel's daughter, that she would never escape her influence.

Those were bad days.

Then, in the morning, Eugene would notice that she seemed down - he would always notice, no matter how much she tried to hide it. And then, when they finally got a moment to themselves, he would hug her tight, not even bothering to make an excuse for it, and Rapunzel would feel better. She would remember what she gained, by leaving this tower and she would remember why, no matter what, she needed to keep on improving.

So, on those days, she hugged Eugene back and swore to herself that she would do better.

#tangled #Eugene Fitzherbert #Rapunzel #Cassandra

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theatresweetheart · 5 years

Text

Desperate Measures [ 1 ]

Fandoms: Sanders Sides, G/t

Warnings: Swearing, fear, main character being treated like a pet, feelings of hopelessness, depressive thoughts. (If I missed something, please let me know!)

Pairings: Romantic/Parental Logicality, Platonic Logince, Platonic TLAMP

Word Count: 2830 words

A/n: This has been a story I have had in the works for quite awhile, and needless to say how excited I am to finally share it here!

Enjoy!

Taglist: @isle-of-gold @anonymous-bean @sandersships

Chapter Navigation: Chapter 2

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

Desperation.

Noun: a state of despair, typically one which results in rash or extreme behavior.

The fact that he was currently sitting in a cage, the bars towering high over his head with a large silver lock keeping him sealed from the outside world, was what proved that his actions had been in desperation.

He could see the key to his cage hanging on the wall across the shop and out of reach. It was taunting him, a sharp reminder that his size made him insignificant to save himself.

However, if this was the fate he was to suffer in return for his family remaining safe then there was nothing he would change.

The pet store itself was humming with life. The birds to his right would chirp at each other and the mice to his left would chitter quietly as if they were in a deep and meaningful conversation. They had partners to talk to, engage with, find comfort in.

Logan had no one.

Perhaps it was better that way.

If most of the others remained untouched and unknown. Though, there had been countless instances where his own kind had been found, stolen away and sold on the market as if they were some prize to be owned. There had been cases of malpractices with young children of his kind, or adults that were abused, bruised, skittish and treated as if they were worth nothing. The world had fallen from grace, that much was obvious and he was sick of it.

Sick of all of it.

The way humans would come in the store and coo at him. They would giggle and flaunt, tease sometimes. It was petty. There would be men that mocked him, made stupid faces or rude gestures. There would be women that would tug at their boyfriend’s arms, pointing and snickering. Some would talk to him—which he was prompt to ignore their ridiculous attempts at conversation—and some would croon and click their tongues as if they didn’t know he could speak English.

It was obvious that a lot of humans overlooked the fact that borrowers were pretty much exactly like their own kind, just smaller.

Over the course of the six months Logan had been there, he had had a few different “roommates”—as the store owner had said—and they had each been wildly different.

One had been a cheerful young woman, happily chatting his ear off about how she hoped to be adopted into a forever home. One had been a young man that had been so abused by his previous owners he had refused to share anything about himself or his past. Another Logan had gotten to know was just a young kid—a boy that wanted to go back to his parents.

They had all been adopted and Logan was left by himself time and time again.

He wasn’t unused to this. He had tried to force himself to remain unattached from the others that were placed in with him because he knew it was only a matter of time before they would be found by a family and he would be left alone.

No one wanted him.

It was true that he was extremely vocal when it came to expressing his displeasure, which turned people away almost instantly. He would snap and snark.

He had been locked away for far too long for him to remain complacent.

He had been away from his family for far too long to remain silent and unheard.

Logan had thrown things, pushed the water dish out of the cage, tossed stuff through the spaces of the bars.

To the other borrowers that were ready to be submissive, he looked insane.

Desperate.

The young woman he had been with a couple weeks ago had gasped when Logan had all but thrown himself against the bars of the containment. She had hopped up and taken a hold of his arm to stop him from doing it again, a surprised look on her features as she met his eyes.

“Goodness, young man!” She had said to him, checking the arm that had been rammed against the bar for bruises. “By God, what do you think you’re doing? No one is going to want you if you keep acting like that!”

“That’s the point,” Logan had pulled away from her gentle touch, looking irritated but not with her.

The woman had been startled with his reply. “You don’t want to find a forever home?”

He had paused at her innocent question.

She had been brainwashed by so many years of living in captivity. The girl had told him that she had been born into custody and had never had the taste of freedom.

Logan had lived his entire life in that freedom. How he had been able to live his life the way he wanted it to be lived.

He had had the chance to share in such meaningful moments with his husband. Quiet times where they sat together, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. Or the first time he had gotten to hold his son in his arms. To cradle such a delicate life and feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Hell, he had had the chance to marry the man that he loved.

To see the way such a smile could brighten up his significant other’s face and send a burning warmth through his core.

He had gotten to feel the true freedom of making your own choices.

She hadn’t. So the girl didn’t understand how traumatizing this situation was for him.

He had sighed, showing his true exhaustion. “I already have a forever home.”

Which included only his husband and his son. Not some human that thought they could provide for him. Not some human that thought he was nothing more than a glorified toy to be put out on display for their friends and then natter to him as if he didn’t know better.

Not some human that thought they were bettering his life by spoiling him with treats and luxuries.

The only luxury he wanted was to go home.

Logan had never been proud to stoop to such childish measures, but sometimes that’s what it took.

The young man had been lectured, told off and scorned for his behaviour but he never changed his way because of it. It wasn’t something they were going to shame him for. They had even threatened to take him off display—which he had laughed at, as if that was even a threat.

To get off of the shelf and be “taken off of display” would be the exact thing he needed.

Logan knew what he wanted, he just had to find a way to get it.

He let his head rest back against the metal bars, the cool touch sinking into his skin and causing a light shudder to shoot up his spine. His hands moved up and down his legs, almost a nervous habit but mostly to keep his hands busy doing something. Sitting idly for too long made him antsy. There was always something to do, whether he was trying to think of a way out or trying to annoy the shopkeeper enough to let him go.

The fact that he had done pretty much everything he could today already was a bit upsetting. Waiting until dinner time would be another three hours and there had been a small cap put onto the water dish from his last stunt.

Logan removed his glasses and settled them off to the side, curling his knees up to this chest and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

There was just so much that he was missing out on. He had missed his wedding anniversary—that had been a rough night, knowing that Patton was alone in bed on one of the most important nights of their lives—and he was missing the chance to watch Virgil grow up.

The fact that he had been away from his family for nearly six months now was beginning to weigh in and it set a hard stone in his stomach. Six months and he hadn’t the foggiest idea of how his family was doing.

He didn’t even know if they were okay or not.

Frustration nipped at him and tears prickled the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He refused to let the humans see his weakness and find a way to use it against him.

His body was coiled tight as a spring, ready to snap.

Then, his shoulders relaxed and the tension melted away. His hands uncurled from their fists and he sighed. A deep breath of fresh air rushing into his lungs and allowing himself the chance to relax. To think rationally about the situation. There was nothing he could physically do to get out of this mess. It was all fairly startling, to be honest. The fact that reality can be such a punch in the stomach when it wasn’t wanted, but the reality check was helpful in some ways.

His blurred vision looked up from the slate grey metal of the cage floor and up to the rest of the pet shop. A lot of it was meshed into random colours and shapes, but he could make out certain things. Such as the shopkeeper’s desk and their bright firetruck red hair. The extremely colourful clothes they always seemed to wear.

He could see the vague shapes of other cages and animals moving inside them. Fluttering, walking, crawling or prowling.

Sighing again, Logan replaced his glasses and pushed them further up the bridge of his nose so they sat more comfortably. The world was brought back into focus but there was nothing there worth seeing.

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mysweetestcreature · 5 years

Text

New Year’s Kisses

A/N: First writing piece of 2019!!! Hope you’ve had a lovely New Year’s celebration and are ready to kick ass in these upcoming months!

I want to thank all of you for such a wonderful year. I started this blog in March of 2018, and now here we are, first day of 2019 and I couldn’t be more thankful for each and every single one of you.

Hope you enjoy this little one-shot I put together as a New Year’s welcoming treat :D

***

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: smuuuut, and I’m a bit drunk right now so...¯\_(ツ)_/¯

***

As soon as he and a few of his mates had entered the club just a short thirty minutes ago, she had immediately caught his attention. It isn’t in that cliché way you would expect to see in basically every romantic comedy movie in the history of the first world cinema. No, it’s because she’s been there alone at her table wearing a form-fitting satin champagne two-piece dress with her hair curled just enough to give it a nice beachy wave that falls right below her shoulders. A tall drink sits in front of her, the straw being twirled elegantly with her pointer finger as she studies everyone around her until she takes the end between her pouty lips every now and again.

There’s this way she looks at someone through her long lashes, it’s as if they’re the most fascinating person in the room that had sparked Harry’s interest in the unnamed girl, which now leads him to wonder if she’s found him of any interest at all.

“Just go over there already,” Mitch tells him, nudging his elbow into Harry’s side as to give him a little push. “If you stand here any longer, you’ll start to look a bit sketchy.”

Harry sighs, pinching the neck of his beer bottle between his fingers and taking a long swig from it until the last drop falls onto his tongue. He lets out a soundless burp as he flickers his eyes from the girl to his friend. “A bit forward, don’t you think?”

Mitch snorts into his drink. “Well, it’s New Year’s Eve. So, in my humble opinion, if you’re going to get rejected by a girl, might as well be a few hours before you can leave it all in 2018.”

“Mitch’s right, mate,” Adam adds. “Might as well.”

Harry pops the cap off another bottle and breathes out heavily before he allows his feet to navigate him through the sea of sweaty bodies all moving to the rhythm of some gaudy pop song that’s lyrics are absolutely undecipherable to his ears.

She doesn’t look at him when he stands next to the empty spot beside her, but he can see a smirk form on her lips as she continues to stare forward.

“You see that man over there?” she asks, and Harry has to look right and left before realizing she’s talking to him. “Looks about twenty-nine, dirty blonde, navy blue slim-fit, two from the left.” She nods her head in the direction of man sitting alone at the bar.

“What about him?” he returns the question.

The girl finally turns her head to face him, and he’s immediately taken with the intense shade of her irises. She laughs lightly, the gentlest sound surpassing her lips. “He’s been sitting there all night drowning himself in...bourbon, maybe whiskey.” she pauses briefly and curls her mouth to the side. “Do you see the way he keeps fumbling with his hand?”

Harry squints his eyes and sees how the man taps his fingers without pattern or rhythm along the countertop.

“It’s his left hand, so I’d say he’s recently divorced and trying to get back in the dating game, but he’s hopelessly failing because he’s guilty about moving on so soon. You can tell by the way looks down at his hand and thumbs over where the wedding band used to be.” The way she talks, it’s as if she’s confident in this man’s history, almost as though she had read the story of his life in a book of some sort. “He’s also been checking his phone every few minutes debating whether he should call her, but of course he’s scared and he’s a man so...” She orients her body to completely face Harry, her eyes scanning him up and down for the first time. “Y/n,” she smiles at extending her hand to him.

He reaches forward and grasps it in his, squeezing it firmly as he shakes it. “Harry,” he replies. “Are you a...”

Y/n shakes her head and lifts her glass until the straw is just centimeters away from her lips. “Sociologist, yeah. Doing a field study on club culture.”

Makes sense, Harry muses to himself. He looks around, looking for a target for Y/n to dissect. “3 o’clock, red dress,” he says, leaning in closer for her to hear. Y/n smirks at him and doesn’t even flicker a gaze at the girl as she flips her hair back behind her shoulder.

“Came here with a friend, probably against her will. She’s the type who would rather be at home and watching fireworks on the telly.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at her. “How do you reckon that one out?”

“For one, her friend––Miss Hot Pink Heels over on the dance floor––abandoned her as soon as they found a table, which really is the bitchiest thing to do, don’t you think?” she says in a pitiful tone and shakes her head disapprovingly. “And she’s obviously uncomfortable given the circumstance.”

“Well, she’s a homebody, yeah? Can’t picture anyone like that wanting to be here.” Harry inserts his thoughts.

“Yes, but there’s more to it,” Y/n tells him, and he can tell by the cadence of her sentence that she has more to say on the matter. “Her eyes haven’t left her friend since she was whisked away by that Argentinian lad with the voluminous hair. It took me a while to figure her out actually, she was bit tricky to read at first, but I think I narrowed it down.” Harry turns to her, waiting for more details and nodding for her to continue. “She’s in love with her. I realized it when Mr. Flow-y Locks left her on the dance floor to get them a few drinks, and Pink Heels started grinding with the woman with the 800cc implants. It’s really only a matter of time until she’s had enough.” Y/n barely glances over her shoulder as she gives the woman a side glance. “3...2...1.” Harry eyes widen as the woman in the red dress stuffs her phone back in her purse and makes her way through the crowds of people and stalks towards the exit.

“Impressive,” he admits, raising his beer bottle to her.

Y/n giggles softy. “It’s my job,” she quirks and lets out an airy sigh. “It’s New Year’s Eve, which is arguably the second most romanticized holiday of the year. Think of it as a single’s Valentine’s Day.” Another giggle passes through her lips and she closes her eyes and tilts her head back as though to immerse herself in the environment. He can’t help but stare at the even rise and fall of her chest as she soaks everything in. Letting out a wistful sigh, she turns back to Harry. “Everyone knows that bars and clubs are the best places to find an easy hookup or someone just as lonely as the next. You know, how everyone just lingers around each other trying to pick out someone they can snag a kiss from when the clock strikes midnight, and hey,” she shrugs, and points to two people leaving through the backdoor exit and leans back on her elbows. “Who cares? It’s the last day of the year, so you might as well welcome 2019 on a high note.”

Harry stares at her, completely enthralled by the detail of each of her statements. He’s known her for about what? Less than an hour? Yet he already feels himself succumbing to the knowledge and wittiness that she undeniably exudes. “You’re really something else.”

“Is that it?” Y/n gasps, raising a half-amused eyebrow. “Is that your line?”

“What? No!” Harry’s eyes grow wide and he stutters on his words before capping his mouth with the nozzle of his bottle. “I don’t even think I have a line.”

“All guys have lines, Harry,” she giggles. “You’re a good-looking guy, and I’m sure you’ve been made aware of the fact.” She runs a hand down the front of his half-unbuttoned shirt. “But as society functions, all guys have some kind of pickup line that they use, whether it’s intentional or not, that they hope will charm a pretty girl into bed with them.”

Harry snorts, placing the bottle back on the table and daring to take a step towards her. “Alright then, have a go at me” he says, almost tauntingly.

“You sure you could handle it?” she teases, taking the back of her knuckle and following his pointed his jawline.

“Only one way to find out.” He places a hand on her hip and traces it up and down. He tilts his head to the side and waits for her to guess details of his life just as she had done moments before. “Have at it,” he says in an almost whisper.

Y/n bites down on her bottom lip and studies him, then leans back, using his broad shoulders to support her. Harry can’t fight back the tug of the upper corner of his mouth as she glosses her eyes over him. “You came here with two other guys who haven’t stopped looking at us since you made your way over here to talk to me. You’re confident, but not arrogant, and it shows by the way you didn’t just waltz over here like you were sure I’d just melt into your arms with one look into your ridiculously green eyes.” Harry lets out a loud laugh at this, Y/n continues. “As I mentioned earlier, it’s New Year’s Eve and you’re here looking for someone to kiss tonight––but not just some random. No, I think you’re the type of person to want to find a connection with someone because you’re not just looking for sex.” She locks her fingers behind his neck and brings her body flush against his. “Are you, Harry?” she whispers in his ear. “What do you want?”

***

Before she can even acquaint herself to the image of his flat, he pushes her up against the door, his mouth attacking the exposed skin on her neck with rough nips of his teeth and glossing over each abused part with his tongue. She cranes her neck, allowing him more access as her hands roam down his chest and find themselves caressing the ink on his heated skin with the chilled ends of her fingertips.

“This,” he breathes out, connecting his lips to the side of her mouth. “I want this.” He says again and kisses the same spot twice more before allowing his lips to linger above hers, looking down at her through hooded eyes. Their breaths mingle with one another while their hands roam over the other’s clothed bodies as though studying each feature in great detail. Her mouth is parted as she pants in anticipation for his next move. She looks up to him, her eyes glossed over and dazed as her tongue just barely sticks out between her lips. Before she can do anything else, he crashes his lips down onto hers, the tip of her tongue being sucked into his threshold to dance with his own. She pulls him by the collar, wanting to feel every inch of him as close to her as possible.

She holds back a moan as he hitches up her skirt. His hand disappears underneath the hem and glides over the smooth skin of her thigh. His movements pause as soon as he reaches the outside of her panties. He smiles into the kiss as his fingers graze over the damp fabric. He pulls back from her lips, his forehead leaning against hers as he chuckles softly while he stares down in awe below them. “You’re dripping for me, baby,” he husks, lips tickling her ear as his fingers pull her panties to the side. “And I’ve barely touched you.” One of his long digits wipe along her slick folds, collecting her juices as he continues to whisper in her ear. “Want it as much as I do. Gonna let me stuff you full with me, won’t you?” Y/n nods eagerly nods her head, cupping his face with her palms and connecting her lips to his as she grinds her throbbing clit against his large hand.

“Are you gonna make me beg, Harry?” she says as his tongue enters her mouth and licks all over the inside. “Didn’t think you were the type.” Her voice remains steady despite the rush of desire that floods her veins and sends shocks to every nerve in her body. She drops her hands from her body and reaches behind her to undo the zip of her skirt and letting the material fall between them and down around her feet.

Harry doesn’t respond, instead continues to suck on her bottom lip as he bends down to grasp the back of her knees, encouraging her to jump into his arms and straddle his waist. He carries her into his bedroom and lays her flat on the bed. He lays in between her legs, spreading them further apart as he kisses up the length of her smooth silky skin. His nose pokes into her inner thigh and lightly calloused fingers trail right behind him, hooking at the hem of her panties and pulls them all the way down and discards them off to the side.

“How much do you want it?” he muses, his tongue pushing past her folds and taking a long lick. He looks up to her, moaning onto her button when he sees her staring back at him, her lip caught under her teeth, her knuckles turning white as she clutches onto his wholesome white sheets.

Her back arches up when his fingers enter her hole, but he sets his other hand flat on her lower stomach to keep her back flat on the mattress. “Harry,” she purrs, lifting her hips to the best of her abilities as she rubs her aching pussy further into him. He sucks fervently on her clit as another finger enters her, soon followed by a third. He thrusts in and out of her quickly, the sounds of her wetness filling both their ears and sending their minds through a whirlwind of feeling as they completely cave in and shred whatever bit of inhibition they may have had left. “You like giving my pussy attention, baby?” she asks in a shaky voice. He hums on her button, the vibrations of his mouth sending jolts all the way down to her toes. “Does it taste good?”

“Mmhm,” he mumbles, all of his attention being focused on how absolutely delectable she tastes on his taste buds. “So fucking good, so sweet,” he adds when he pulls away and blows on her sensitive mound. “Can’t wait to stuff you full with my cock.”

Harry removes himself from her, sitting back on his knees and working the buckle of his belt and shoving his pants and boxers down over his ass. He falls on his back right by her side. She hikes a leg over his middle and tears the rest of his attire off of him. His cock, all red at the tip and leaking warm bubbles of precum down the sides is enough to make her mouth water. “You’re so big,” it’s barely audible as it leaves her mouth, but it’s able to reach his ears. He crosses his arms behind his head and admires the way she gently strokes her hand over the length of him. She bends down, unable to stop herself from taking one of the delicious dribbles on her tongue and to feel it settle all the way down into her tummy.

He moans when she takes as much of him as she can into her warm and inviting mouth, and he shuts his eyes tight when he feels himself hit the back of her throat. She bobs her head around him, breathing in through her nose as her eyes water from having him so far in her. Her cheeks hallow as she sucks him further. He gathers her hair in his hands, fists tightening as he leads her up and down his cock, willing himself not to send the entirety of himself down her tight throat and just cum right then and there. Her hand massages the back of his thigh, rubbing on the coarse hairs as she flicks his tip with her tongue.

He counts to five in his head before pulling on her hair, and she releases him with a sound pop. He pulls her face towards him and kisses her lips all plump and pink, and he can even taste a bit his saltiness on her. “You like having me in your mouth, love?” They exchange heated kisses between the two of them. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Had to pull you off my cock before I gave you my treat,” he tuts his tongue then rolls them over. He pushes her knees back to her chest, her pussy lips spread perfectly for him and arousal glistening in the moonlight peering through the crack in the bedroom curtains. “Look at you, darling, so fucking ready for me.”

“Then do it already,” she challenges. He shoots her a smirk and pushes into her without a second thought. She sucks in a breath as her walls accommodate to the size of him as he bottoms out, his balls slapping to the curve of her ass as he freezes on top of her.

He curses under his breath. “Christ,” he all but gasps, urging himself to pull out of her just enough for the tip to linger at her entrance. “Such a tight little thing,” he says, but it’s more to himself as he slams back into her delicious heat.

“Fuck, you feel so good inside me,” she whines, her hands cupping her breasts and pinching and twisting at her nipples as she enjoys the feeling of him pounding into her in a fast rhythm. Harry throws his head back as his hips buck into her. The headboard of his bed thumping against the wall with each powerful thrust, only to be drowned out by the New Year’s countdown from his upstairs neighbors.

31...

30...

29...

His movements become more erratic as the final seconds of the year come dwindling down to a finish. He shifts lower, their chests pressing up together and he stares at how her mouth forms in an O-shape, as he feels her orgasm fast approaching by the way her walls flutter around him and make almost impossible for him to move. “Cum for me, darling.” He leaves sloppy kisses along her jaw as he slithers his hand down to rub furious circles on her clit to edge her closer to fulfillment. “Give it to me,” he barks, sinking his teeth back on her pulse as he plunges into her cavern in harsh strokes that have her crying out his name in between uncontainable moans. “You’re right there, baby. Just let go.”

15...

14...

13...

Her toes curl into the sheets and arms wrap around his broad shoulders as she reaches the brink of ecstasy. “I’m gonna-” her voice getting higher and unable to complete her train of thought as she shudders beneath him, and brings his lips back to hers in an open-mouth kiss. She peels her lids open and watches fondly as Harry continues to thrust into her in long deep strokes, with his eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

4...

3...

2...

With one last powerful thrust, he pulls himself out of her pussy, jerking himself only once with his fist before he spills his release all over her stomach and heaving chest. She stares down at herself in amazement, the white ribbons of cum intricately swirled all over her sweaty skin. She traces her finger along one of the thick lines, then pushes it past her lips, humming in satisfaction as she swallows. Harry drops down to his elbows, laying back on top of her and lazily connecting their mouths.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles drabble #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles au

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roominthecastle · 5 years

Text

post--“620″ ramblings about stuff & things

so 620 picks up one week after the succulent goose incident. Despite those 7 days, our Red remains as angry and hurt as he was before (if not more), which is our first key point. “I can neither kill... nor trust... nor forgive.” It’s quite an unsettling thing to hear, to say the least, and Liz, unsettled, immediately counters w/ “You forgave Dembe.” This Liz vs Dembe thread that’s been earnestly pulled on since 618 gives us the second key. It reaches all the way back to the first episode of this season where it gets established why such a comparison is not working as an argument: “That’s different.”

In both 620 and 601 we have a moment where Liz and Red try to drag poor Dembe in between them as an “example” to deflect pressure, but each immediately rejects this stunt bc they both know that the nature of their relationship is different. The forgiveness of a parent (figure) is not forthcoming for Liz bc Red’s feelings for her are not really those of a parent. This exact issue emerged after her faked death, too, and Bokenkamp touched upon Red’s point of view already, i.e. how the parent figure would have to forgive but the romantic partner is, in fact, conflicted [x]. But I’ve already written a longer piece on this duality, so I won’t get into it here.

And Red’s been struggling. He is heartbroken again and not as a parent. A parent’s heartbreak is equated to “being impaled by a unicorn” and -- still barred from being in her life -- it’s little Agnes whom Red watches riding a unicorn on the carousel. :)

With Liz, Red is suffering through something else that 100% parallels what Liz went through w/ Tom re, love, betrayal, and forgiveness. She was in limbo where she couldn’t kill, she couldn’t trust, she couldn’t forgive. She lost control and cold fury was the only way to get some of it back. And then she gave in to hope and “forgave every lie and believed every promise” only to get betrayed again. Red describes his predicament the same way: she “has lied and deceived me and I've forgiven her every time” and “I knew but I let my hopes convince me that she wouldn’t betray me.” This ties straight back to the idea of being in love == being rendered powerless, which is part of a larger quote from James about self-deception vs true romantic love. Part of this had a cameo in S2 and another is echoed at the end of this episode (the greeting card bit).

The topic of appearance vs truth is the third key that slides neatly into the broader question of Red’s identity. We have two important scenes that poke this issue:

one w/ Ressler when he questions Dom’s story and Liz’s willingness to gloss over the holes to preserve a neat surface appearance: “But is it the truth? Does it make sense that this is the answer?”

and the other is w/ torture master Teddy who points out how Red lives a charade: “The code's like the suit and the hat. You feel good wearing it. Look good, too. Million bucks. But, and I gotta think deep down you know this, it's like lipstick on a pig. It can cover a lotta sins. End of the day, it's still trayf.”

and all this nicely echoes Dom’s words from the previous episode (the “architect of this charade” who’s “stepping into the lie”) and the way Red kicks off the whole show in 101: “Everything about me is a lie.”

Red wears a disguise, is the point. “Raymond Reddington” is a lie he’s been inhabiting for a yet to be fully uncovered purpose. But ever since he met Liz, he’s been longing to break from this. It’s clearly expressed in all those emotional moments he shares w/ her, e.g.:

“I haven't been home in years. But if anyone can give me a second chance, it's you.”

“Sailors have been navigating by the stars for thousands of years. Odysseus spent a decade at war. But his biggest battle was finding his way home. That's Polaris, the North Star. That's how sailors used to find their way home. When I look at you, that's what I see. I see my way home.”

“It may be hard for you to imagine, but I once had a relatively normal life... bills to pay, play dates, family, some friends, people to care about. Lost all that. // Lost how? // In Mexico, there are these fish that have colonized the freshwater caves along Sierra del Abra. They were lost. They found themselves living in complete darkness. But they didn't die. Instead, they thrived. They adapted. They lost their pigmentation, their sight, eventually even their eyes. With survival, they became... hideous. I've rarely thought about what I once... was. But I wonder...if a ray of light were to make it into the cave, would I be able to see it? Or feel it? Would I gravitate to its warmth? And if I did, would I become... less hideous?”

When Red looks at Liz and Agnes, the deep longing for that past self w/ a wife and daughter stirs in him. It surfaces when she tells him her simple yet distant dream of walking in the park w/ her husband and daughter. They want the exact same thing. This is consistent throughout the seasons. He’s been gently signaling this to her and she’s been fleeing from it bc he is just... too much and the idea of him in that role in her life is an attractive yet scary image (see her steamy dream of him in S2 that blends sensuality and dread as Red, having murdered her husband, stalks up to her bed asking what she really wants).

Red’s anger as a way to reestablish a semblance of soothing control and Liz’s refusal to face the truth to protect herself are what we have in that last scene in 620. “father figure” is a buffer zone, always has been, it’s part of the charade Red lives while wearing Reddington’s identity. Despite having pushed for the truth, she is now trying to lock him into this lie, telling him that that’s what he will always be. And if you keep in mind those quotes above that show how Red longs for a past life around her, then you can see how her words likely inflict more pain.

This brings another quote from Red to mind:

“You said something before. The truth doesn’t matter, that the only thing in this world that matters is just the appearance of truth. I fear you might be right about that. Lately I find that the truth has become… so elusive. Often imaginary. But in the end, it’s all that we’re left with, isn’t it? What is real, what you can taste and touch and feel. The words that pass between us as we look each other in the eye are… all we have to hold on to. The truth. I hold it dear.”

In their first scene where Liz talks about finally having the opportunity to be completely honest w/ each other, they sit face to face. And then promptly dance back from it all, esp Red. Then she soon admits to Ressler that she might be closing her eyes to the whole truth to keep things simple, safe and "sweet”. And so in their last scene, there is no eye contact at all as she tells Red that it doesn’t matter who he once was (never mind that months ago she was willing to put him in jail to find out) bc this fake identity is who he is and who he will always be, which apparently dictates that he must play father and grandfather.

The sheer arrogance and presumptuousness of this statement are already begging for a strong rebuttal but it also nicely reflects Liz’s tendency to make things about herself while brushing aside how others might feel or think. She did this w/ Tom when she refused to see who he really was and tried to convince herself he’d changed. And she does this to Ressler, too, when she tells him she knows he did everything bc he thought it was what was best for her, never mind that that was not Ressler’s motivation at all and he, in fact, said that to her already. Her last scene w/ Red has this vibe to it.

The fact that Agnes is part of this park scene is no coincidence, imo. Red is not comfortable w/ playing Liz’s dad. If he were, he wouldn’t have denied being her dad when she asked him in S1 (since wearing Reddington’s identity provides the wiggle room here), he wouldn’t have winced and cringed every time she referred to him as “father” in S5, and he wouldn’t have had the same reaction at the end of 620, either. He doesn’t embrace it, he doesn’t like it, he just endures it. There was a (sadly discarded) line back in S1/S2 about how he would be willing to play any role she wanted him to play but I believe something has changed since then. Even back in 102, he enthusiastically offers her the role of girlfriend and when she refuses, he flatly tells her that she can play daughter then. The preference on his part seems consistent but it will always be up to Liz to give the green light. Or the red one.

He wants to be a father to Agnes and he’s already confessed it in 319 (“I would give anything to be a part of that child's life... hold her... watch her grow.”). And the only time during the park scene when we can see the cold tension melt off him is when he sees the little girl. And when he hears Liz’s decision to bring Agnes home, his stony demeanor crumbles completely.

This is also where another part of that quote from James mentioned above seeps into the dialog: when Red remarks that Liz’s code is not a code but a greeting card -- confused, self-deceiving bullshit (just like Teddy called his code part of a charade designed to hide the scary truth). They are still not being honest w/ each other, they don’t look each other in the eye, they are still dancing around the actual truth at the core of their relationship. Red is deeply hurt, all his hopes seemingly dashed, which drives him to clam up even more and detach to mitigate the pain. He can’t kill but he can try and kill his true feelings for her, I suppose. And Liz is still afraid to face what it is exactly that fuels his intimate commitment to her, so she draws a line in the sand, declaring it permanent. But...

“You know the problem with drawing lines in the sand? With a breath of air, they disappear.”

James stated -- while talking about TBL -- that he’s not interested in material that doesn’t have a romantic/sexual aspect to explore. He also said that he is fascinated by Red and Liz’s relationship, that Red’s feelings for her are strong, complex, and complicated, and that neither is sure of the true nature of their relationship.

so bottom line (to quote Ressler who’s fast becoming the only voice of reason now that Dembe left): Red locked in the surrogate parent role just bc he wears Reddington’s identity for a different, still mostly unknown purpose -- is it the truth? does it make sense that this is the answer?

nope.

And I think it’s interesting that Cooper was designated as a “spokesperson” when he is in the dark about what happened between Red and Liz: the one who is mostly in the dark speaks about a family bond but his assessment (of love, faith, commitment) could easily pass for a wedding vow, too. It’s nothing but fitting, imo.

This latest fallout created a huge fracture in the Red/Liz relationship and I don’t expect them to repair it in the 2 episodes we have left this season. But Agnes is back and I think she will be the glue for these two idiots in the long run, allowing them to slip into a family rhythm that could potentially coax some buried feelings to the surface -- feelings both are trying to ignore at the moment.

#tbl spoilers #tbl spec #long post #lizzington

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mars-barssss · 5 years

Note

85. "Don't lie to me" with the prompts you just re-blogged, if possible? Any ship ya want 👌

//Sure!

Lies of Omission

TW: Deceit Mention, Remus Mention, A Few Swear Words, Some Roughhousing

Pairing: Prinxiety (referenced Anxiet)

Type: ANGST

___

Once again, Virgil was lurking in the dark around the mindscape. It was usually a normal thing, but tonight, he was following a different set of rules. He just managed his way into his room, which was just as dark as usual. As he quickened his pace, he breezed past the front of his room, the spiderwebs bending unnaturally away from him. He could feel multiple pairs of spider eyes watching him as he finally reached his bed, patterned with a surprisingly intricate spider web design. Confident that he couldn’t be heard in his room, he released a relieved breath.

A sudden thud sounded in the room, as he tore into his drawers. Searching frantically, he tossed many pairs of black pants and old hoodies aside as he dug. Under the many overwhelming layers upon layers, he saw something. He reached for it, which was a card that read, “U R FAMILY”. It was from Patton, and he didn’t want to leave it behind. He didn’t really want to leave any of them behind, but he didn’t want them in danger. Snagging the small card, he slipped it onto his bed, before replacing his purple hoodie with his old plaid one. He zipped up the hoodie, covering his head with the hood before slipping the card in his pocket.

He slipped the purple hoodie into the drawer, and rushed off to the closet. He reached up, stretching, just managing to grab his trusty headphones and phone, which he held gently in his hands. A quick look into it and he saw a playlist of audio books ready at his fingertips from Logan last year. He smiled briefly, before pocketing the phone and putting the headphones around his neck.

With a small breath, Virgil finally ran to the final corner of his room, which had a bit of ruined carpet. Lifting the carpet, he saw the edge of a familiar trap door. Upon raising it, he saw something that made his breath hitch. It was his Christmas sweater, which bore a lot of memories from the previous year. As he reached down to touch it, he held it close to himself, frowning slightly. He could feel it radiating care and hope, something that contrasted Virgil’s own ideals. He could feel his own heart raise in tempo. Roman had made it for him last Christmas, and something about it made him smile still. While he didn’t wear it normally, he still wore it at night.

He was about to turn, holding the well-loved sweater tightly to him, when he saw a glimpse of something else beneath. A small ring, silver, but slightly cracked on the sides. He remembered trying to build something for the creative side, but he wasn’t exactly meant to form something. Anxiety was no good at forming items. And when he made it with intricate designs, some of the designs became harsh cracks. There was a pair of hearts on the outside of it, one purple and another red, and on the same part on the inside, there were a few small words, “Will you be mine?”

He hesitated, but Virgil reached for the cracked ring, holding it close to his heart. Slipping it onto his finger, albeit a bit loose of a fit, he quickly folded up the sweater and slid it into a bag he had previously formed against his wall. Taking the bag, he covered the trapdoor with the carpet and approached his door.

This is what he had to do.

He snuck quickly down the light-side’s hallway. His footsteps creaked slightly on the wooden floor, but no one seemed to have awaken. He rushed into the living room, his grip on his bag tightened. As he navigated through the couches, a small cough froze his body in place.

“Virgil?”

Shit.

Virgil spun around to see a tired-looking Roman, standing in the arch of the hallway. He was looking deeply into the other side, although he was leaning heavily on the wall. He was wearing a surprisingly simple outfit, a long-sleeved pajama shirt with a crown, and matching red sweatpants.

“You’re already enough of a chemically imbalanced romance for me to be awake at this hour! What in the heavenly world, are you doing?” He rose a bit from where he was leaning, in a poor attempt to have his usual daily flourish. His fond smile still danced upon his regal face.

“The bigger question is why you are up right now?” Virgil attempted to deflect the question, hiding the bag behind a couch as he nervously shuffled. His eyes stayed on the prince, however.

“Creative block, Thomas can’t think of anything.” He gestured vaguely around, as if he was trying to conjure something. It obviously didn’t do anything. “Besides, it’s night time. Most of my reign is being used up. It is so frustrating that I can’t do anything during Remus’s hours!” He stomped in mock anger, as he kept his eyes trained on Virgil. He slowly began to walk around the couch.

“Still, you should be trying to relax. Who knows, Ro, you might get some really needed beauty sleep!” Virgil smirked slightly, his smirk barely not reaching his eyes.

“Excuse me! I happen to be in fact the most fairest of all, you damned emo nightmare-!” He bowed slightly, as if that would prove a point. It didn’t prove anything. Although, all Virgil could notice was just how close he was getting to the anxious side, and closer to noticing his change in outfit.

As if the thought alone cursed him, Roman looked at his with a strange questioning in his eyes. “Still didn’t question my answer, stormcloud. Actually, another question, why in the world are you wearing that-?” He made a large motion, pointing at the dark plaid that Virgil had been hiding in.

“Didn’t want to waste my normal hoodie for night stuff-!” Virgil blurted out.

“You don’t even need to sleep! Try again.”

“Uhh- felt like wearing something familiar!”

“... You’ve worn your purple hoodie for a year now.”

“... Felt like it?”

“Everyone here knows just how much you hate it, edgelord.”

Virgil squirmed under Roman’s words, shrinking further into his old hoodie. As the Prince walked closer, his heart rate went up. He hated trying to lie for this, lying in general sucked. And having Roman basically tower over him, made him want to just force himself to blurt out the truth. And eventually, he succumbed to it, however, when he did-

“Agh okay, I had to because-!” Suddenly, his hands covered his mouth, slamming into them. One look from Roman was all he needed. Roman began to back up in shock, his fond expression long gone and forgotten. His expression melted from a deep sort of shock, to frustration. “D-Deceit?...Y-You wanted to go back? Back to them?!”

“Roman-! Wait I can- Deceit wanted me to-” Virgil tried to move forward, lifting his hands off of his mouth, before his steps halted as his legs grew heavy. His heart pounded at his chest, raising even higher as Roman opened his mouth, his form towering over Virgil.

“I t-trusted you! I TRUSTED YOU!” Roman’s lip quivered as he looked to the ground, before looking back up, his eyes shined with tears. “I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO BE GOOD! H-How… Why?!”

“R-Roman, it’s not, no, wait-!” His pleas fell on deaf ears as the creative side stormed towards him, his arms shaking a little. “It wasn’t anything bad, I just needed to talk with Deceit about-” Suddenly, his hands covered his mouth again. This caused Roman to visibly grow more upset, his teething sinking deeper into his own lips.

“You’re still lying?! I thought you actually cared, but you really just wanted to go back, didn’t you?” Roman’s eyes glistened with tears and anger. A few tears flew down his cheeks as his shouts thundered through the anxious side. “I thought you cared about us! I thought you were happy-!”

Virgil backed up, pointedly looking away, his eyes wide and afraid. Suddenly, he was forced forward, a hardened grip pulling him slightly upwards, forcing his eyes to find Roman’s. The moment he did, tears slid down his own face, ruining his make-up. As Roman lifted him slightly, it caused Virgil’s headphones, phone, and card to fall out, flying onto the floor.

“I thought you cared about me-!” Roman practically cried it into his face, as tears were now falling in waterfalls down his cheeks. His hand that held Virgil was shaking, trembling even.

“N-No-! Roman, I care about you- I care about you so much, I-” His hand reached up, shaking as it reached for Roman’s face, almost touching it-

“Don’t lie to me.” Roman’s voice grew deeper, as he backed away harshly from the contact, shaking Virgil. In the motion, Virgil saw in dismay that his bag had also thumped onto the floor, and the sweater had slipped out, joining the other sentimental items. The shake had also just managed the slightly-loose ring to fall off of his finger, hitting Roman’s foot. “J-Just tell me you want to leave us! O-Or me! That you want them, because hell-”

“R-Roman, no-”

Suddenly, Roman looked at the items and Virgil’s expression, and his anger hesitated, crumbling. Deep down, Roman didn’t ever want to hurt Virgil. He knew that. Shakily, he let go of his hoodie in favor of wiping his tears. His anger stood nothing in front of the love he held for that side. “I-I…”

Virgil, as he let his tears fall down, looked at Roman’s broken eyes, and couldn’t take it anymore. His lip trembled, and his insides threatened to sob away his pains. Shaky hands wiped desperately at his eyes. Before Roman could understand what happened, he dashed away, leaving behind all of the beloved items.

“Virgil-!”

But by the time he yelled, Virgil had already ran to the edge of the room and tumbled downward as he sank out, holding his hoodie close to himself.

Roman held himself, as if it’d hold himself together. He fell to his knees, looking at all that Virgil had brought along with him. He looked at his hands, the ones he knew he used that held Virgil a few moments ago. That held Virgil when he was breaking down weeks ago. That held Virgil when he was cuddling him. That held Virgil when he confessed to him. That held Virgil when he was just accepted, when he began to sob.

As he sat there, his eyes trailed down to where his legs used to be standing, spotting a small silver ring. It was a beautiful ring, actually.

The moment he saw the hearts and words that were engraved into it, Roman broke into sobs. Hiccups ran through his body, has he curled in on himself. All of the laughter and bravado the side had before was gone, leaving a shell behind. Sobs wracked his body as he held the ring, tightly. His body shuddered as his heart bled out through him.

Several hours later, Patton and Logan had found him asleep in that same position in the commons. And for once, they didn’t know what to do either.

#sandersides #sanders sides #virgil #roman #prinxiety #requests

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harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

When the World Stops Turning - Chapter 17

summary: a love story in two voices - cowritten with @achinglyshawn

warnings: Language

word count: 6.3k

“Hey, babe, can you grab that thing… the… the whatever over there?” Lydia mutters, trying to look behind her from atop a stepladder in her heels as she navigates a platter down from a cupboard.

She can’t remember the name for bottle opener. Her chest is a little tight with anxiety, even with him around to lighten her load.

The thing. Shawn spins on his heel and spots a stack of plates, a vase of flowers, and a bottle opener. He glances back at Lydia, and figures the "thing" probably isn't plates or flowers. He grabs the bottle-opener and smiles a little. He knows she's nervous.

This is her first party at Hamilton House. She misses Alice so much she can’t breathe. It’s especially difficult now that Lydia’s finally gotten around to redecorating the master. She couldn’t keep it as a shrine to her grandmother forever and decided it would be nice for her and Shawn to have some place of their own to stay, some place that felt like them.

"Bottle opener, I think, might be the words you're looking for," he quips, careful not to be too snarky but also trying to keep the mood light.

The tension is a little more heightened today because she brought her popstar boyfriend back into her life and this time, it’s permanent. Her mother, through the grapevine, is unhappy. Her father is quietly elated. Nick and Paul are cautiously optimistic. And no one else matters to Lydia.

But she remains tense and hopes Shawn doesn’t take it personally. Her mother’s like the wicked witch of the west -- you can feel the storm coming and Lydia bristles every time.

Shawn is aware her mother is none-too pleased that Lydia's back with him, and that she's made over her grandmother's bedroom into a master suite for them, like the Hamilton House is becoming their house together, instead of a museum for Alice's life. Shawn guesses she's even less pleased that the baby shower isn't just Lydia's party, but officially Lydia-and-Shawn's party.

He knows he isn't the kind of man Lydia's mother wants in their family. He doesn't really care. Lydia wants him around, and that's all that matters, as far as he's concerned. Their months apart made him realize that he really, really doesn't care what outsiders think about their relationship, even Lydia's own family. Even his own family, to be honest, though his parents have been pretty great. Liyah's been a brat, but he knows she just cares about his well being in that defensive, sibling way. She'll get over it eventually. Shawn slips the bottle opener into his pocket so he can get a hand on the small of Lydia's back, the other hand steadying the heavy platter as she climbs down the step ladder. "How about you let me get the high up stuff instead of trying to climb mountains in those heels, yeah?"

Shawn’s hand on the small of her back steadies her in more ways than one. She lands back on the hardwood with one hand on the platter and the other on the counter. She sets it down and sighs. Even in her heels she stands several inches beneath him. She reaches out and pops a kiss to his cheek. “Deal. I knew there was a reason I’m dating the beanstalk from “Jack and the Beanstalk”,” she teases, striding toward the kitchen out of the storage pantry. Shawn and Lydia have been in Nantucket for two days getting ready for the party and enjoying each other’s company. The first night they slept in the new master suite, she barely slept at all, and not in the fun way. But the second night, Shawn held her tight to keep her from wriggling and gave her a couple orgasms to help her sleep. The curse broke. The doorbell rings. Lydia’s eyes lift. She looks to Shawn. “Ok, wow, we’re doing this,” she breathes, wandering toward the door. It’s Bill and Jen. Lydia lifts a stilted smile onto her face. “Hi.”

Shawn’s hot on her heels as Lydia goes to the front door. He can practically feel the anxiety radiating off of her. He presses a hand to the small of her back, a gentle attempt at anchoring her, reminding her she’s not alone. But maybe it’s him being around that’s making her anxious in the first place. Like, this wouldn’t be such a big deal if he weren’t there to receive frozen looks from her mother. He almost pulls away from her and steps back. He almost runs away to hide in the bedroom. He almost thinks, hey, maybe she’s better off without him. But he knows that’s not true. He presses closer, instead. Lydia opens the door. Bill’s eyes light up when he sees them standing together, whilst Jen looks like she might be sick. He doesn’t focus on her.

Reluctantly, Lydia leaves the comfort of Shawn’s body heat to hug her delighted looking dad. She snuggles her face into his chest. “Hi daddy,” she hums. “Ditty,” he greets with a laugh in his voice. She’s glad to hear it. He smiles as Bill pulls Lydia into a hug, then goes for Shawn next, wrapping Shawn in his arms like he’s the man’s long lost son. Shawn can’t stifle the surprised laugh as he hugs Bill back.

Lydia tries not to grin like an idiot when he hugs Shawn. She totally fails. “Thank you for doing this with Lydia,” Bill says as he pulls away, “Nick and Paul are going to love it.” Shawn can feel his cheeks flush and tries not to be bothered by Jen’s cold stare, but he can’t help the way his skin crawls. “Not that Lydia needed me or anything,” Shawn starts, glancing at his girlfriend with a soft smile as they step out of the doorway, “but I liked helping. I think it’ll be a fun afternoon.”

She makes eye contact with Jen and leans in to kiss her cheek. “Hey, Mom.” Jen plasters on a tired half smile and lets Lydia lead them back inside. “Nick and Paul are on their way with Ben. They invited a few friends from Boston, did they tell you?” Jen nods coldly and looks around like she’s inspecting the place for signs that Shawn has changed something, messed with tradition. But the only thing that’s different is Lydia. She takes his hand as they sit on the couch, a mix of soft adult contemporary playing quietly, wine chilling in ice buckets by the spread on the table. Lydia did a fine job. She’s proud of it. She’s proud of him. She’s about to speak when the door rings again. “Baby, can you get that?” she whispers, angling for some time alone with her parents.

Lydia asks him to get the door and calls him baby in front of her parents. His heart stumbles in his chest and he smiles easily.

He looks down at her, says, “Yeah, Lyds, of course,” and brushes a kiss against her temple before he heads for the door. He didn’t mean to kiss her in front of her parents. It was like a reflex really, but he doesn’t regret it. He’s not backing down from a fight, if that’s what Jen wants. He’s not gonna pretend he’s not totally fucked for Lydia just because her mum hates him.

Shawn kisses her and Lydia sees her mother’s face sour slightly. She ignores it, knowing she better pick her battles today. She figures it’s probably Nick and Paul with Ben so Lydia remains positive as she regards her parents. “Missed you guys. It’s been a while.” “Been too long, Dit,” her father says over a smile, “Season tickets for the O’s aren’t the same without you, angel.” Lydia beams. “I think I was the good luck charm, they really suck this season.” Jen’s eyes glaze over. “You look happy, little girl,” her dad says. Lydia looks between them both meaningfully. “I am. I’m very very happy.” Bill grins and nods. Jen remains stony. Shawn finds Paul, Nick, and the baby when he opens the door and a smile splits his lips. “Hey, Shawn,” Nick says coolly, giving him a nod as he walks past with Ben strapped to his chest in one of those baby backpack things. He doesn’t give Shawn time to fawn over the freshly baked human, and instead he’s got Paul pulling him into a hug and saying, “Glad to have you back, man, Lydia was going crazy without you.” Shawn laughs as they part and head for the living room, shaking his head a little. “I won’t tell her you said that. She thinks she hid her misery from the outside world well.”

Nick walks around the corner with an infant strapped to his chest. The room melts. “Oh my god,” Jen gasps, “That’s my grandson.” Lydia blinks as the baby squirms against Nick. That’s her nephew. Nick is smiling bigger than she’s ever seen. They crowd around to fuss about the baby. Lydia’s eyes fill with tears and she giggles uncontrollably when little Ben blinks at her. She reaches up and kisses Nick’s cheek. “Congrats, Dad,” she says softly. He smiles down at her. “I’m so stupid happy,” he replies.

Lydia looks like she’s about to cry over the baby when Shawn walks into the room. Paul’s gone to say hello to his parents, so Shawn’s left alone to watch his girlfriend coo at her nephew and hug her brother like maybe he’s not as indifferent as she thinks. Shawn doesn’t know, though. He’s not like that with Aaliyah. Everything between him and his little sister matters so much. They’re best friends. That’s why it sucks that she’s being such a pill over Lydia. He doesn’t get why Liyah can’t forgive her like he did. Except he does. He hates the idea of anyone breaking his little sister’s heart, knows he’d hate whoever did it and that it would be really fucking hard to see her get back with whoever the dick was. But relationships look different to the people inside of them, and that’s what Liyah doesn’t get. She can’t know why Lydia did what she did, not the way Shawn does. Shawn sees Lydia, even if it took him months of licking his own wounds before he could. He gets it now though, and he knows that if Aaliyah ever took someone back, it’d be for the right reasons, and maybe then she’d understand. He just wishes she could understand right now. They’d really get along, Lydia and Aaliyah. He wants to go up to her, pull her into a hug and then hold onto her for the rest of the night, but he’s trying not to get in the way. Even if Jen and Nick didn’t hate him, he’d never take her away from her family.

Lydia feels warm and fuzzy after her moment with Nick. She moves aside so they can maneuver Ben out of his carrier for Jen to hold him. Pretty soon everyone’s overwhelmed tears become laughter and party chat. Lydia finds Shawn hanging back by the couch. She pushes hair out of her face and shuffles over to him. No one’s watching them so she kisses him gently, taking his hands. Paul wanders over and tugs at Lydia’s hair. “Little Ditty is an Aunt now.” Lydia beams and smiles at Shawn. “I’m so excited. I’m going to spoil the shit out of this kid.” “And if we screw him up, you can give him therapy,” Paul chuckles. Then, “It’s nice to see you guys together again. Feels right.” He sighs, sentimental and mushy with the new addition to his family.

Paul acts like he and Lydia are meant to be and it makes his cheeks burn. It’s nice to have Paul on his team. Not that there are teams or whatever, but it feels like there are. The way Jen watches him carefully from across the room makes him feel like prey she’s stalking. Like she’ll pounce any minute, and that’ll be it, he’s done, fur cold before he even has the chance to run away. Paul and Lydia make him feel safe though, which he feels like a baby for because he should be able to stick up for himself. To stand up for their relationship if need be. But he also knows Jen would never, like, confront him. She’ll be passive aggressive again, but not unless she can manage to corner Shawn alone. Or she’ll yell at Lydia when they’re alone, except maybe this time, Shawn won’t linger on the sidelines. He’s not sure she really has the confidence to take her on. She’s just a mom, but she seems so much worse than even the most vicious of paparazzo digging for gossip and drama. Lydia kisses Shawn’s hand and nods as the doorbell rings again. She reluctantly leaves him to welcome more guests until their full party of 18-20 family members has filled the room.

Lydia leaves his side and he’s tempted to scurry after her like a needy puppy. Instead he begs off to the kitchen and brings out the heaviest platter of finger foods, the one Lydia acted like she was gonna bring out but then got distracted by flowers instead. He knows she left it for him because she knows he’d insist on doing it himself. He likes how well they know each other, even in the littlest of ways. Shawn thinks it’s the little ways that count the most, anyway. He can’t find Lydia with a perfunctory scan of the room, probably because she’s so tiny, so he breaks the cardinal rule of hosting and takes the first (second, and third) lemon tart from the dessert dish and glues himself to the corner, keeping a dutiful eye on any champagne glasses that might go empty.

Lydia really likes playing hostess. She’s wearing her grandmother’s pearls and walking around amongst her family making sure everyone has what they need. But there’s a piece of her that feels like she’s a little girl playing dress up. She doesn’t feel that way when she looks at Shawn. He makes her feel like a woman. His woman. Their relationship feels more adult now, she knows it’s the right decision to have a party like this be their reintroduction to her family. Even if her mom has been chillier than usual all night. Lydia notes a lack of mushroom mini quiches and knows she has more warming in the oven so she takes the tray and ducks into the kitchen. She feels Jen behind her and bristles. “Hi Mom, you need anything?” Lydia asks, voice light and breathy as she places mini quiches onto the platter. “Lydia, this is childish. Don’t you feel silly? Bringing him here amongst all of this? You know this isn’t fair to him,” Jen snaps. Lydia sighs and tightens her fingers into a fist against the counter.

Shawn sees Lydia disappear into the kitchen with the empty quiche platter. He’s about to follow her, to help her with whatever and maybe sneak a few kisses, when he sees Jen slip out first. Now it’s Lydia that’s the prey. He feels a pinch in his heart, a subconscious need to defend. Lydia can take care of herself, but Shawn still wants to protect her. So he follows them towards the kitchen, but hangs back in the butler’s pantry when he hears Jen already chiding her. He doesn’t get what she means, that this isn’t fair to him. How’s it not fair? It’s fun, actually, throwing a party with Lydia. He thinks they work pretty well together. He doesn’t burst in right away because he figures Lydia’s got a rebuttal up her sleeve. Lydia always knows what to say, and if he’s being honest, Shawn’s still trying to come up with the best words to defend himself with. He figures it won’t hurt to let Lydia give it a head start.

Lydia drops the last mini quiche onto the platter and spins on her heel. “What’s not fair, Mom? He’s not here against his will. He’s... he’s proud to be here with me. He loves me.” Her voice goes soft at the end. Jen sees an opening. “Jesus, Lydia. What happened to you? You were so driven. You had a career ahead of you. What happens now? You marry a pop star and live a life of fame and glamour?” “What the hell do you mean ‘had’ a career? I’m still in school. I’m not ditching my life plan because I’m in love. He’s totally supportive of my career objectives!” Lydia cries, beginning to sound a little hysterical. “You look ridiculous. Don’t you care?” Jen growls. Lydia shakes her head. “You’re such a fucking snob. You wouldn’t have confronted me with this if I decided to quit school when I was with Carson. All you care about is how this looks. He’s a musician, Mom! He’s not a criminal!”

Shawn doesn’t want to hear Jen berate Lydia anymore. She hasn’t even said much, but what she’s said and how she’s said it, it’s enough to have Shawn chomping at the bit to get in there and save his girl. Not that she needs saving. But she shouldn’t have to do this alone. “Lydia,” he says as he walks into the kitchen, and he tries to go for soothing but he knows he sounds angry. “You don’t have to defend me to her, it seems like she’s already made up her mind.” He reaches Lydia and slips his hand into hers, pulling it up so he can brush his lips across her knuckles. He knows she likes that. His gaze flicks to Jen, “Haven’t you? You’ll do anything to make Lydia feel bad about me because she’s not doing exactly what you want her to do. Because I’ll never be who you want.” Jen looks like she’s going to interrupt, but he doesn’t let her. “I think you should know that’s pretty shitty. You might think you’re doing it out of love, or whatever, but manipulating people, your daughter, isn’t really how you show them you love them. If you really were trying to do that, you’d be happy for Lydia. For us.”

Lydia tries not to let her jaw drop when Shawn comes in and coolly confronts her mother. She didn’t mean for him to hear this but she’s a little glad he did. She wants him to know she’ll fight for him now whenever she needs to. Jen’s face goes red. Lydia stares at Shawn as he speaks. Her heart is racing so fast she’s sure it’ll explode. When he finishes his well-delivered speech, she squeezes his hand and looks back to her mother. She’s shaking her head. “You two... you may think you can make each other happy. You may think love is enough. But you have to want the same things. You have to have the same values, the same upbringings or your relationship is... it’s doomed. You’re both acting like children.” “Mom, you don’t know us. You—“ Lydia’s voice cracks and she knows she’s headed for tears, “you barely know me. How can you pretend to know our future together?”

He hates it when Lydia cries. He’s pretty mad now, since Jen seems to always be making her cry. He wishes Jen could grow up, because she’s really the one who’s acting like a baby. Souring everything around her just because it’s not exactly how she wants it. Pathetic. He won’t tell Lydia he thinks her mum is kind of pathetic, but he does. Jen’s gaze softens for a moment as he daughter starts to cry. She opens her mouth to respond. “Mom, that’s enough.” Lydia looks to the doorway. Nick is standing there, sans Ben, looking tired. Lydia blinks.

Shawn pulls Lydia into his arms and turns away from Jen, stroking a hand through Lydia’s hair. He sees Nick out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t really care. He pulls back from Lydia, but only slightly. He has just enough room to tilt her face up towards his and run his thumb along her damp cheek. “We could do presents now, if you want,” he says with a gentle smile. He looks to Nick and shrugs a little, “That could be fun. But it’s up to you, Dad.” Lydia leans into Shawn’s touch. If possible, Jen’s face sours more. She nods at Shawn’s suggestion.

“Yeah, Shawn, thanks,” Nick murmurs, casting a disapproving glance at his mother.

Shawn wants Nick to like him. He wants Jen to be the odd one out so maybe she’ll realize how stupid she’s being. He doesn’t even get her argument. Lydia and Shawn have the same values. Be good people. Tell the truth. Make kids smile. Make each other smile. Be thankful for what you’ve got, and don’t stop striving for what you want. He doesn’t know what more there is, except that he does know Jen cares about status. And Shawn’s status as a celebrity is, apparently, very tacky. But all of that’s so shallow, thinking about people that way. People are more than their families, more than their bloodlines, and he’s more than a celebrity. Lydia is more than a Hamilton, even though she’s proud to be one.

Lydia looks back at Jen once more. She sniffs gently and wipes under her eyes but she knows it’s no use — her eyes get even brighter green when she cries and her face goes all blotchy. It’s not cute. She lets Shawn lead her back toward the party but she tugs on him to stop. She swipes at her eyes again and pulls him into her arms. In heels, she comes up almost to his chin. She tucks herself into him, seeking comfort only he can provide. “I’m sorry. You deserve to be adored by my family. If it were anyone else, you would be. But you picked the girl with the snobbiest family on the eastern seaboard.” She chuckles but it’s wet and lifeless. She closes her eyes and inhales, rememorizing his scent. “I don’t know if this is ever going to get easier. What if it doesn’t?” She croaks.

“I don’t care.” It comes out easily enough. He doesn’t care. Sure, he wants Lydia’s family to like him, but if they don’t, so what? All that matters is if Lydia likes him. “I just want you to like me, Lyds,” he murmurs as he holds her tight, taking a step back so he can lean against the wall. “I also just want you to be happy,” he says, and he realizes she might not be happy if her mother can’t figure out a way to get over herself. “I’m really sorry your family is making you so sad because of me. Well, your mum.” He tips his head and studies her flushed, tear stained face. She’s always so pretty. Too pretty for a plain guy like him. He hums, sounding a little sad while he runs his fingers down the back of her neck and says, “I’m sorry I don’t know how to fix it.”

Lydia’s eyes flutter as he caresses her neck. She comes up on her toes to kiss him. “I know you are. But you can’t fix it. Maybe time will.” She thinks about when Nick brought Paul home for the first time. She was young enough that she doesn’t remember it being a big deal but Paul tells her Jen was chilly at best. So maybe there’s hope. After a couple more seconds of recovery, she leads him back to the party. She sits a concerned looking Paul next to Nick while Bill holds the baby. The presents are lavish, to say the least. Not your average baby shower kinda stuff. Lydia’s most excited about the gift she picked out to give to them from herself and Shawn. “You’re gonna love it,” Lydia sing-songs, wrapping herself up in Shawn’s arms as Nick and Paul open the gift. It’s the first gift she’s given on their behalf. Feels like a very couple-y thing to do. Nick and Paul open the box and discover an antique rattle Paul showed her years ago when they were first talking about adopting. Lydia bought it at the shop and held onto it ever since. “Oh my god,” Paul cries, running over to hug them both.

Shawn doesn’t feel like it’s a gift he can really put his name on. It was all Lydia. So he paid for the cake and the catering and the flowers and whatever else Lydia could think of. Not that Paul and Nick need to know that. But he couldn’t let Lydia give them such a sentimental gift and slap his name on it too. He wanted to feel like he really contributed, even if no one ever finds out.

Lydia loves watching Nick and Paul so happy. They kiss and cuddle with the baby on the sofa, the stars of the night as everyone stands around and watches adoringly. Lydia feels her face grow warm when Nick announces another gift labeled as being from Shawn and Lydia. She tilts her head to glance up at him and then looks back to the family of the evening.

He also got them a fancy baby mobile he saw in the fancy Baby Boutique in town, the only one on the island. It’s not Nantucket themed, but it’s nautical and it seems like something blue bloods would like, in the same way they like Vineyard Vines and Seersucker. He didn’t tell Lydia about the gift, but he signed her name to it, too, like proper couples always do. He’s in no rush for them to open it though - they’ll find it when they find it - so Shawn stays planted by Lydia with his arms wrapped around her, chin resting on her pretty little head. Nick opens the box to see a beautiful sea-themed mobile to go over Ben’s crib. Lydia beams as Nick and Paul coo over it and shout their praise across the room to them. “Sneaky,” she giggles, pecking at Shawn’s jaw to reward him for his thoughtfulness. She snuggles into his arms and watches as they open the last few gifts and start to mingle again.

Shawn’s cheeks flush when she calls him out on the gift, but he knows her ‘sneaky’ comment really means ‘good job.’ He tilts his head so he can nuzzle his nose against her temple, brushing a kiss to the apple of her cheek. “You think maybe that’ll be us someday?” Lydia whispers, feeling her stomach lurch at the thought. She wants it so bad. She didn’t realize how much until this moment, but here she is imagining them sitting together and staring down at someone that’s theirs, someone they can love together forever. The question Lydia asks has his stomach swooping low in his abdomen and he can feel the tips of his ears heat up. He swallows thickly as he tightens his arms around her. His voice is low, gentle in her ear when he speaks. “Do you want it to be?” He does. He wants a family with Lydia so badly. He’s always wanted to be a dad, but it’s never felt like a real possibility, something actually within his grasp, until he met her. He bites his lip as he waits for an answer, nervous even though he doesn’t think she would’ve asked the question if it were something she didn’t want.

Shawn’s body goes stiff around her and she doesn’t know exactly how to translate that in her head so she just decides to be honest because that’s what they’re doing now. “Absolutely. If that’s what you want too. I’m in, babe,” she tells him quietly, feeling her cheeks pink up.

She says ‘Absolutely’ like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, that she would want a baby with him. Like she’s been thinking about it for some time now. His heart buzzes like a hummingbird in his chest. The smile that splits his lips is a little ridiculous, but he can’t help it. He wants everything with Lydia.

She turns to face him and kisses him because fuck whoever’s watching and judging. She’s so happy. And she gets to make him happy too.

He’s about to spin her around in his arms and kiss her, but she beats him to it. She’s always faster than him. He kind of loves it. He drags his fingers through her hair and tilts her head back, deepening the kiss. He loves her so much, he really doesn’t care who’s watching. He doesn’t know if anyone is, since they’re tucked in the corner, but he has a feeling Jen’s eyes might be on them- on him, trying to shoot him with laser vision she doesn’t have. He can’t be bothered to pull away to check.

Lydia has to be the one to pry herself away from him, but she seals it with a final peck on his lips because she doesn’t really want to be apart from him at all. The party continues. Jen remains thankfully stable. Bill is effusive and barely letting go of his grandson except for the 15 minutes that Lydia steals him away to whisper in his ear and giggle when he squirms against her chest as she sways with him. Her feet hurt in her heels so she sits and drinks champagne and talks to Paul’s parents who have always liked her. She introduces them to Shawn, who delights them because Paul’s parents are actually really cool and fun and his mother Sharon knows Shawn’s music so they chat. Lydia notices Nick and Jen talking in the corner while Bill bobs around the room with the baby. Lydia never feels settled when Nick and Jen are conspiring. As the evening is wrapping up, Lydia is helping bring bags into Paul’s car when she overhears Jen talking to one of their family friends. “...it’s just not going to last. She already left him once. She’s always been flighty. I just hope, god, I hope he doesn’t get a ring on her finger or everything gets more complicated. Because of course we’d insist on a prenup, naturally, what with—“ That’s enough. Lydia steps in to make herself seen. “Mom, it’s time to go.”

He’s trailing a few feet behind Lydia with some of the heavier gifts when he hears Jen somewhere behind him. She’s standing in the corner of the porch huddled with a family friend Shawn doesn’t know. Her words cut through him, striking and hot, and he’s not sure he’s ever been this pissed before in his life. He grits his teeth and slides the presents into the back of Paul’s car when he see Lydia brush past him to stalk back up the stairs. She stops in front of Jen, and he knows from her tone that Lydia is fed up. He turns and runs up after her, stopping a few steps below. He’s not sure if he should get in the middle again. He might yell if he does, and that wouldn’t do anything to help his case. But it’s nagging at him, the bullshit Jen thinks, so he pipes up anyway. “I don’t want anyone’s money, let alone Lydia’s. I make more than enough money as it is. So if that’s what you’re worried about then— well, you don’t have to be. I’ll sign whatever stupid papers you want.” He’s not very eloquent when he can’t edit and revise and ask Teddy for advice. But he says what he means, he tells the truth, and that should be enough.

Lydia feels Shawn behind her tensed like an animal readying for a fight. She swallows and raises her chin at Jen. The family friend ducks her head in embarrassment. She excuses herself with a wilting smile to Lydia and a weak “thank you.” Lydia tries not to bare her teeth at her. Jen, Shawn and Lydia are left. Jen straightens up and glances off to see Bill readying to head into their guest house. Lydia has half a mind to tell her to leave, to find somewhere else to stay tonight. But she’s trying to be mature. Jen shoots them both a look. “We’re leaving early tomorrow. We’ll be gone before breakfast.” “Fine,” Lydia replies coldly. There are no more tears to be shed here. She’s resigned. And she’s angry. Jen leaves. Lydia is breathing hard and gripping the bannister. She looks over at Shawn again. “I’m sorry she said that. I’m sorry she’s like that.”

Lydia’s apologizing but Shawn doesn’t think there’s anything to apologize for. Her mum’s actions aren’t her fault. He shakes his head and reaches for her waist, spinning her around gently. He curls his fingers behind her ear, tucking her hair back as he shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry she thinks it’s okay to treat you like that.” He sighs gently, nudging his head forward to slant his lips over hers. He kisses her slowly, like they have all the time in the world to stand on these stairs and get lost in each other. They don’t, but sometimes a moment with Lydia feels so cosmically huge. Shawn thinks it’s the closest thing to experiencing forever that he’ll get.

Shawn’s kiss stills her. She drops her hands to his waist and sighs into his mouth. He quiets her rage and reminds her without words about what’s important.

He pulls away finally, frowning a little as he studies her face. “I don’t want her to ruin a great day for you.”

Her lips follow his when he pulls away. She smiles and licks them, shaking her head.

“She didn’t. She may have wanted to. But I don’t care what she wants, not right now. I love her. I always will. But I think I’d like to marry you someday and she can’t change that.”

She’s never said it out loud to him before. In the grand scheme of things, their time together has been relatively short. But she’s been with him and she’s been without him and she knows what she wants, what she needs.

She says the word ‘marry’ and it feels like his world stops. He’s young and he knows it, but he’s known for a year now that Lydia is the woman he’s gonna marry, even if it’s not for a while. He’s hers, utterly. “You wanna marry me, Hamilton?” He asks with a smirk, but the croak in his voice betrays him. He’s been too scared to bring it up. He’s glad she got there first. He might’ve waited years before saying anything if she never did. He’s always trying to grow up for her, to get better and be better and be who she deserves, but more and more he realizes she already thinks he’s that guy. So maybe he is. He thinks she might feel just as young as he does sometimes, like they’re just playing adults, and not the real thing. He likes that they’re both ready to start learning about life together, instead of pretending like they’ve already got it down to save face.

He’s teasing her so she knows she hasn’t freaked him out, though she didn’t think she would. She grins and rubs her nose up against his. She wraps her arms around his back and shrugs playfully.

“Still considering my options. Can’t say a big white wedding here at the house in the fall when the leaves start to turn hasn’t popped into my head.”

She tries to joke around but her cheeks are flushed and her lips are spread and she looks really happy. His stomach flips as he thinks, It’s me, I made her smile like that. He’s so fucking lucky.

She can’t stop smiling so she’s not pulling off her joking nonchalance very well. “Not gonna change my name though. Or at least, well, I’ve thought about Lydia Hamilton-Mendes. Lydia Hamilton-Mendes, Ph.D. How’s that sound?”

She beams at him. She already knows how it sounds.

Their noses brush, just barely, as he shakes his head. “No way,” he murmurs, twirling some of her hair around his fingers, “Lydia Mendes-Hamilton. Rolls off the tongue better that way. And then I can be Shawn Mendes-Hamilton.” He blushes a little as he presses his lips together, cheeks plumping as the corners of his lips pull up. He can practically hear his heart beating in his chest, he’s so nervous from this conversation. Not bad nervous, good nervous. Excited nervous. Happy nervous. He can’t wait to really start his life with her. He’s such a goddamn sap.

Lydia laughs. “Oh, so you want us to match? That might just be more paperwork than it’s worth.” "Well, why would you have to change your name and not me? Why do you get to do it and not me?" He quirks a brow and tips his head, giving her a look that says, 'you won't talk me out of this.'

She giggles again, then closes her eyes as he runs his fingers through her hair. Eventually, she looks out at the estate that she still kinda can’t believe is hers. The house is quiet — her family has stowed away in their little nooks of the property. The main house is theirs for the night. She feels a chill from the night sea breeze and tugs at him, angling her head toward the door. “C’mon, Mr. Mendes-Hamilton, it’s getting cold out here.”

He grins as she tugs at him, pulling him back towards the door. He feels like his heart is swollen in his chest as he stumbles after her, his long legs getting the best of him just a bit because he's so distracted by the way she says his name like that. "Whatever you say, Dr. Mendes-Hamilton," he croons, giving her a wink as he follows her inside, crowding closely behind her so he can get his hands on her waist and nuzzle his face into her neck. They stay intertwined and giddy for the rest of the night.

Taglist: @celaenaaashryver @softboyshawn @marlahey @smallerinfinities @crapri @the-claire-bitch-project @stillinskislydia @rosesfool @sippingchai @lostinshawnslight @infiniteshawn @localforeiigner @evergreeneyesx @randi-eve @accioalena @shawnitsmutual @searchingunderthestars @justmimi38

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes rpf #shawn mendes roleplay

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magicallygrimmwiccan · 5 years

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Fear Is Dark (But My Love Is A Lantern)

Summary: In which Secrets Are Revealed, Plushies are Found, and Logan Makes a Friend (spoilers: it's Joan)

Notes: ... this took so long to post here, sorry

Chapter Four- They Fall Down On Their Own

Thomas blinked awake the next morning, exhausted yet content. He wondered why he was yet again sleeping on the couch, this time in an upright position, when he registered a couple of warm weights curled up into his sides. He glanced down to see what was going on, and his heart melted at the adorable sight that greeted him. Patton and Roman were cuddling in their sleep on Thomas’s right side, Patton’s slightly-higher-than-average body temperature radiating into Thomas because of the close proximity. On his left side, Logan and Virgil appeared to be attempting to fuse together, that’s how closely they were cuddling. Virgil was imitating a baby koala, his long limbs wrapped around Logan’s body as he clung to his chest, while Logan had tangled his legs together with Virgil’s. Overall, it was an adorable sight, and Thomas sneakily grabbed out his phone to snap a picture of the sleeping kids. He was just debating how best to extract himself from the cuddle pile so as not to wake any of them up when a loud knock sounded at the door. He jumped, startled, and wracked his brain for possibilities on who could be here at this hour. He groaned when the answer came to him. Joan and Talyn had agreed to come over today so that they could work on a video. What was he possibly going to tell them about the sleeping aspects cuddled all around him?

“Thomas? You awake yet, man?” Joan’s voice called from outside. Thomas sighed and gave up on slowly untangling himself, instead just jumping up from the couch and walking to the door, ignoring the sleepy grumbles of complaint from behind him. He opened the door, blinking his eyes rapidly to adjust them to the bright sunlight, and grinned sheepishly at Joan and Talyn.

“Hey, guys, I was asleep, sorry,” Thomas laughed nervously. Talyn arched an eyebrow at him, suspicion radiating off of them.

“That’s fine, Thomas. What’s got you so anxious?” they asked, shoving their hands into the pockets of their jeans. Thomas sighed and decided to just bite the bullet and tell them.

“So, something weird happened a couple days ago. Apparently, and none of us can figure out how, a few aspects of my personality manifested permanently into the real world, and now they’re living with me. I don’t know how to get them to unmanifest, they don’t know why they’re like this, we just all know that I have to take care of them for the time being,” Thomas rushed out, anxiety churning in his gut. What if they thought he was crazy? What if they tried to get him to a mental hospital? What if he was crazy?!

“Okay… Thomas, how much sleep have you gotten in the past couple days?” Joan asked slowly, their words long and drawn out as if they were trying to not spook him.

“At least eight hours a night. Look, I’m fairly certain I’m not crazy, just… come in and you’ll see,” Thomas huffed, leading his two friends into the living room. Joan and Talyn followed, and Thomas felt the exact second they noticed the sleeping aspects on his couch. Now that Thomas had had them around for a couple days, he had noticed that they all had extremely similar facial features, even if certain physical attributes were different. (He may have also pulled up pictures from his childhood to compare, and yep, these kids were definitely parts of him.) So, yeah, if that didn’t convince Joan and Talyn, he didn’t know what would.

“What the fuck,” Joan whispered. Talyn nodded in agreement, obviously in too much shock to formulate a comment of their own.

“I don’t know!” Thomas hissed. “I was hoping you guys could help me figure this out.”

“Thomas… this goes behind the scope of weirdness that my brain can handle. I have no idea where to even start,” Talyn finally offered, their eyes wide. Thomas went to reassure them when a sleepy grumble cut through his thoughts. He spun around to see Logan and Virgil sitting up and untangling themselves, discontented murmurs coming from both of them. It only took them a couple of seconds to notice the two new people in the room, and when they did, they froze, dark blue and violet eyes widening in fear. Virgil shrunk back into his hoodie yet placed himself between Joan and Talyn and Logan, obviously in an attempt to protect him from the two new people.

“Who the fuck are you two?” Virgil growled, and Thomas shivered as a chill settled over the room. No six year old had any right to sound that terrifying. Talyn snapped out of their shock first and approached, giving the two terrified kids a reassuring smile.

“Hey, I’m Talyn. Thomas just told me about what’s going on. How are you two holding up?” they asked, walking around the couch to crouch in front of Virgil and Logan. Virgil quickly switched positions so that Logan was practically pinned to the couch and stared Talyn down. The effect was ruined a bit by his trembling frame, but still, he looked like he was one wrong word away from launching himself at Talyn in order to defend himself.

“We were fine until two new people who I’ve never met in my life walked in!” Virgil hissed, his violet eyes narrowing. Thomas noticed that Logan still didn’t have his glasses on, and as such, the slightly older aspect was hiding behind Virgil, probably trying to let the one that could see handle this new and scary situation.

“Hey, that’s fine. What’s your name, little guy?” Talyn continued, still trying to break through to Virgil. They glanced up at Thomas for a confirmation of pronouns, and Thomas nodded, mouthing “They’re all male” to make sure that Talyn understood. From behind him, Thomas heard Joan moving around, and when he glanced back, he saw Joan holding up two sets of glasses belonging to Logan and Patton.

“I-I’m Virgil,” Virgil muttered, beginning to uncurl a little. Talyn’s smile widened and they held out their fist for a fist bump. Virgil warily tapped his fist against theirs, and Talyn giggled a little.

“That’s a nice name, Virgil. Want to come meet my friend Joan? They’re really nice and they’re not going to hurt you, I promise.” Virgil slowly nodded and slid off the couch, pausing and holding his hand out to Logan. Logan warily took it and slid off the couch as well, obviously relying on Virgil for directions on where to go. Talyn held a hand out to Logan, and Logan flinched back. Talyn paused and crouched down to his level, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” they asked softly, something that Thomas appreciated. He still hadn’t been able to figure out why Logan was so jumpy, and that made him nervous. Had something happened to him?

“L-Logan,” he stuttered, obviously working very hard to get his speech under control.

“That’s a wonderful, name, Logan. We’re going over to Joan and Thomas now. Want to come with?” Logan nodded, and with that, Talyn slowly walked back around the couch and towards Thomas and Joan, Virgil trailing with Logan behind him. When they reached Thomas and Joan, Virgil wrapped the arm currently not being held by Logan around Thomas’s legs as he blinked shyly up at Joan.

“Hey, Virgil and Logan, I’m Joan. Nice to meet you,” Joan offered, crouching down to give the two a high-five. Virgil cautiously reciprocated before leading Logan’s hand to Joan’s. Joan grinned and held out Patton’s glasses. “Are these yours, Logan?” Virgil opened his mouth to say something, probably no, when Logan’s hand shot out and gently grabbed the glasses before he shoved them on his face. He blinked, disoriented, before mumbling “No, these are Patton’s.” Virgil carefully grabbed Logan’s glasses and placed them into his hands. Logan swapped glasses, and when he could finally see, nodded at Joan in gratitude.

“Thank you, Joan,” Logan stated, clasping his hands together in front of him. Joan grinned and ruffled Logan’s already messy black hair, ignoring the indignant squawks that emerged from him.

“Anytime, buddy,” Joan replied before standing up. Logan huffed and attempted to fix his hair into a somewhat respectable hairstyle as Joan turned to Thomas. “Yeah, I think the video can wait a few hours. How do you want to go about this?”

“Thomas? Who’s there?” Roman’s sleepy mumble cut through the discussion. The redhead was sitting up, rubbing his eyes and yawning, and Patton was also awake, already sliding off the couch. He was navigating much better than Logan had without his glasses, and Thomas quietly filed that information away for another time.

“I’m assuming these are one of yours?” Joan offered, holding out Patton’s glasses. Patton blinked and came closer to inspect them.

“Yep!” he chirped after a moment, gently grabbing them and shoving them onto his face. “Thanks… what’s your name?”

“Oh! I’m Joan, and this is Talyn. What’s your name?” Joan asked, sticking their hand out for a handshake. Patton took it, beaming.

“I’m Patton, and the sleepy redhead behind me is Roman,” he answered, giggling slightly at the indignant look on Roman’s face. “Nice to meet you, Joan and Talyn!” Joan beamed; Patton’s enthusiasm was clearly infectious. “Now, what could you two possibly be doing here in Thomas’s house this early in the morning?”

“We were going to film a new video, but, well… now we’re here to help Thomas figure stuff out,” Joan replied, adjusting their beanie a bit. Patton blinked before comprehension dawned and he nodded. Roman yawned loudly while shooting Joan and Talyn a large thumbs-up, causing Patton to giggle a bit at the antics of the dramatic redhead.

“Excellent. I believe our first order of business should be a clothing change?” Roman offered, voice muddled with sleep. Logan practically sprinted for the stairs the second Roman suggested that, Virgil not too far behind. Even Patton and Roman looked taken aback at the speed with which they had just been abandoned, and Joan was shooting anxious looks at the disappearing backs of the two youngest aspects.

“I’m assuming those two are the antisocial parts of you?” Joan asked. Roman snorted, murmuring something along the lines of “How’d you guess?” until Patton elbowed him into silence. Thomas nodded confirmation for Joan’s question and then followed Logan and Virgil up the stairs, determined to figure out what was wrong. He found the bathroom door closed and no Virgil or Logan in sight, so, after bracing himself with a deep breath, he knocked on the bathroom door.

A sniff came from inside, and then Virgil called back “We’ll be out in a bit.”

“Virgil, Logan, it’s Thomas. May I come in?” Thomas queried quietly. A couple of soft whispers, so soft that Thomas couldn’t even make out individual words, a shuffling, a soft click of a door unlocking, and then Thomas found himself yanked inside the bathroom, letting out a startled yelp. He blinked rapidly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the harsh glare of the bathroom lights, to find Logan curled up in a tiny ball with Virgil crouching in front of him.

“L was having a hard time with new people,” Virgil murmured by way of an explanation. Thomas’s brows furrowed in confusion. He was expecting that from Virgil, but from Logan? Virgil must have noticed his confusion, for he simply sighed and turned to Logan, whispering “Do you want me to tell him, L?” to the rocking Logan. Logan’s rocking paused and he nodded once, twice, three times, before resuming rocking. Virgil nodded once in response and turned to Thomas.

“He’s autistic,” Virgil stated, voice flat. “He learned plenty of coping mechanisms over time, but our bodies have been regressed to the point where his body hasn’t learned those coping mechanisms. So, here we are.”

“Oh.” Thomas, admittedly, didn’t know much about autism, and he wasn’t even sure how an aspect of him could have autism if he himself didn’t, but he shoved those unhelpful thoughts into the back of his mind; Logan was more important now.

“Okay, so what helps you, Logan?” Thomas asked. Logan waved a hand vaguely, and Virgil translated: “His stuffed owl. Which is in the Mindscape. And we can’t summon it. I’ve been trying since we locked ourselves in here.” Logan made a high-pitched noise in his throat and pointed at Thomas.

“... oh yeah.” Virgil turned to face Thomas. “Thomas, I need you to focus really hard on grabbing Logan’s owl.”

“I don’t even know what it looks like!” Thomas exclaimed, panicking internally. He was just going to make everything worse for Logan, wasn’t he? Virgil groaned and facepalmed before grabbing out his phone, unlocking it, and going straight (ha) for his camera roll. He quickly found what he was looking for and shoved it at Thomas, who had to squint to focus his vision. He saw an adult Logan, sprawled out on a bed, cuddling a black-and-dark-blue galaxy-patterned owl with blue button eyes. Little tufts of fluff stuck out of the top of the owl’s head and brushed against Logan’s chin in the picture, and, Thomas realized with a start, the button eyes had been sewn on over and over again, a sign that the owl was well-loved.

“There, now you know what it looks like. Can you just… summon it, please?” Virgil pleaded, putting his phone away and turning back to Logan. Thomas took a deep breath in through his nose, closed his eyes, and pictured the owl with all his might: how much it must mean to Logan, what sort of comfort it must bring, why Logan found such comfort in it. He felt something solid tickle the edge of his consciousness, and he reached towards it eagerly and pulled . His fingers closed around something soft and solid, but it was Virgil’s strangled little noise that brought him back to reality.

“You… you actually summoned it,” Virgil whispered. Thomas looked down, and sure enough, Logan’s owl was clenched firmly in his grasp. Logan made a happy noise before he snapped his arm out, snatched the owl out of Thomas’s hands, and brought it back to his chest to cuddle. Thomas blinked, but Virgil just shot him a grateful look before going back to taking care of Logan.

“Thank you,” Virgil murmured. “Now, if you could go tell the others that Logan and I will be down in a few minutes?” Thomas nodded and stood to leave.

“T-thank you… Thomas…” Logan whispered. Thomas paused and turned to give the small child a warm smile.

“Anytime, Logan. Anytime.” With that, Thomas exited the bathroom, leaving the two youngest alone.

Notes: Feel free to scream at me, sorry for it taking so long :(

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #angst #fluff #family #hurt/comfort #crying #permenantly manifested kid fic

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tmarie82 · 6 years

Text

Acceptance

Pairing: Drake x MC (Emma Warner)

Book: The Royal Romance (Book 3)

Word Count: ~3,900

Rating: M (for language) 🤬

Author’s Note: This fic came to me in pieces. First, I’ve been thinking about writing a follow-up to my fic Waiting since @kamybelen-blog mentioned a fic about Drake and Emma’s wedding night. (Spoiler alert - stay tuned for that one!) I have also wanted to do a bachelorette party story after listening (on repeat) to the addictive song “I Love It” by Icona Pop. Plus I thought it would be fun to throw in some angsty scenes for Drake and Emma around wedding planning, and thus . . . this series was born. I hope you enjoy the second installment of the ‘Our Own Kind of Fairytale’ series. Stay tuned for more chapters soon!

A special shout out is due to @simplyaiden-blog for being my creative sounding board during this process. Thanks Sweetie, you are the best! 😘

Please send me an ask if you want to be tagged in future fics. Tagging by request: @simplyaiden-blog @choices-fanatic

You can find all of my fics here - MASTERLIST

~~~~~~~~~~

“Warner, I couldn’t honestly care less whether we have white roses or peonies in the bouquets. I don’t even know the difference!” Drake’s voice raised in obvious frustration. He exhaled and took a moment to calm himself, closing his eyes to avoid the disappointed look he knew Emma was giving him. He was trying, he really was . . . trying to help her make these miniscule wedding decisions and be supportive of the huge extravaganza they were planning. But, deep down in his heart, he was starting to feel more and more on the outside looking in on his own wedding.

As he steadied his breathing and finally looked back at Emma, he found a vapid expression on her face. Shit, he thought. Now I’ve really done it.

Emma didn’t speak for a few moments, searching for the right words. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes before responding. “Look . . . Drake, I know this is not your first choice doing the big wedding. It wouldn’t have been my first choice either. But I feel like we have an opportunity with our wedding to show the people of Cordonia that we are united and we are strong. I feel like it’s our responsibility to do this for them.” Her voice was flat and emotionless, but Drake could see the hurt in her eyes. “And I thought you felt the same way.”

Drake took a step back and paced the length of the room, raking his fingers through his thick dark hair. This conversation was not going well, and he had never been good at compromising or keeping his opinions to himself. He lifted his gaze back to her and found her waiting expectantly for him to respond. He swallowed hard before proceeding carefully. “I do feel the same way, or at least . . . I thought I did. But now as we’re getting closer to the big day . . . I’m just having a hard time getting excited about this circus that we’ve created.” He walked up to Emma, trailing a finger down her cheek and continued speaking in a whisper. “All I want in the world is to be married to you. None of this other stuff means anything to me.”

Emma understood what he meant, it was the same thing she had been feeling amidst all the trivial decisions. Steak or chicken? Fireworks or a dove release? String quartet or a pianist? This whole wedding had become too big . . . a circus, as Drake had labeled it. Yet, time and time again during this whole exhausting process, her sense of responsibility for Cordonia had overthrown her own desires and she had persevered. So while she understood Drake’s position, she also wished he could be more supportive of their decision. She needed a partner, and if Drake was unwilling to play along with planning this circus of a wedding for the country he loved . . . she worried he may not be a partner in other aspects of their life together. She closed her eyes, praying that this wasn’t true. She released the long breath that she hadn’t even realized she had been holding in. She looked up into his deep chocolate eyes, trying not to lose herself in them as she struggled to stand her ground. “I understand Drake. I do. But sometimes it‘s not just about us and what we want. And I need to know that you’re with me, even if it’s hard. We both have to make sacrifices.” She paused and looked down at her hands before continuing. “And I’m worried if we can’t make sacrifices for this wedding . . . what happens when things get rough during our marriage?” She could feel the tears beginning to form in her eyes, but fought them back. She had to stay strong.

Drake stood in front of her, speechless and stunned at her confession. How could she possibly think that he wasn’t making sacrifices in all of this? He would do anything for this woman! But as they stood in silence, he began to doubt . . . he began to worry. Maybe I’m not good enough for her. I can’t even keep my mouth shut about the wedding . . . I can’t even suck it up and play the part of the dutiful groom to give her the wedding she wants. He scowled, the self-doubt beginning to eat him up inside.

Emma cut off his train of thought. “Ahem . . . well, I need to leave to go get ready for the bachelorette party,” she stated plainly. She still avoided looking directly at him for fear of her resolve faltering. “And you need to get ready for the bachelor party. The guys will be by to get you in an hour.” When she finally raised her eyes to his face, she found him staring at the floor with his brow furrowed in contemplation. No, not just contemplation . . . he looked almost sad. Her heart ached at the sight. She quickly stepped on her tip-toes and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. As she stepped down, she muttered “We’ll talk more later, okay?” She waited a few more moments for him to respond, but Drake didn’t move.

Reluctantly, Emma turned around and walked slowly out of the room. She kept her composure as she navigated through the palace halls until she finally found her quarters. She walked silently through the door and closed it behind her, then leaned back against it and burst into tears.

As Emma entered her room, Drake was still frozen in place where she left him, her words echoing in his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Emma heard a knock on her door along with a chipper “Are you ready to party?!?!?!” Hana. Emma thought to herself as she opened the door to allow Hana to shimmy in. She was already dancing as she walked into the room, humming a fast-paced pop song to herself. She turned around to face Emma, only to stop in her tracks at the sight of Emma’s red, puffy eyes and runny nose.

“Oh no, what happened?” Hana reached to embrace Emma, and Emma willingly melted into her arms and began sobbing again. Hana just held her and stroked her hair for what could have been a minute or ten . . . she had lost all track of time as she let all of her emotions pour out in her tears. Finally, as the crying slowed and her breathing steadied, Hana stepped back and gazed at her friend lovingly. “Now, there. Do you feel a little better? I know a good cry always makes me feel better.” Emma just nodded. “Do you want to talk about it, Em?”

Emma paused, not quite sure how to explain the occurrences of this afternoon and the feelings leading up to them over the past two months. “It’s Drake. We had a fight.” She glanced at her dear friend, who looked at her compassionately as she continued. “We were discussing the wedding and trying to make some last minute decisions . . . and he just blew up. Like he didn’t even care!” She sniffled and dabbed her eyes before continuing. “But you know what hurts the worst? As I was standing there listening to him explain that he never wanted a big wedding, that all of this was too much, part of me was agreeing with him. I just . . . I feel terrible that this wedding isn’t about us anymore. But I couldn’t say that, I didn’t admit the truth to him. That I wont give it up because I still think it’s our duty for Cordonia!” She huffed in frustration. “And now he thinks that he’s the one to blame, because I can’t give up on my sense of responsibility. Do I have my priorities completely mixed up?”

Hana put her arm around Emma’s shoulder and cradled her head against her. “No, no Sweetie. You’ve just got a lot of priorities to deal with in all this. Maybe there’s something you can do for the wedding to make it special for just you and Drake.”

Emma groaned. “Ugh, I’m trying! I’ve incorporporated his favorite color green into the color scheme, I let him pick out all the music for the ceremony, and we even added a whiskey tasting bar for the reception! The problem isn’t these little pieces of the wedding, it’s that the wedding is too damn big and impersonal. And I don’t know how to change that unless we cancel the press and uninvite 400 guests!”

Hana chuckled. “Okay, okay . . . so maybe this one’s a little tougher of a compromise.” She leaned back and looked into Emma’s eyes, placing a hand on each shoulder. “But . . . I know you. And I know how much you love this man. And I KNOW that you will find a way to make this right.” She smiled and patted a thumb under Emma’s eyes and along her cheekbone, then grimaced when she realized this tear-swollen visage was going to need a little more work. “Alright, now you need to have some fun. We’ve got a wild night of dancing and drinks planned for you. So let’s get some cucumbers on these swollen eyes and you just relax while I pick you out a dress and fix your hair.”

Emma grasped Hana’s hand as it dropped from her cheek, holding it tightly in her own. “Thank you Hana. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She started to get choked up again.

“Uh uh, no more crying! You’re going to make me cry!” Hana exclaimed, quickly standing up and facing the other direction. She sniffled a little, fighting back her own tears. When she turned back to face Emma, they both burst out in laughter at their emotional interaction. Hana shook her head, then walked towards the closet. “Let’s see now . . . we need to pick you out something hot for your last official night out as a single lady.” She winked at Emma as she started rummaging through the clothing.

~~~~~~~~~~

Drake stared at the smoke swirling around his hand and up into the air, mesmerized by the patterns as it dissolved. Although the robust Cuban cigar had burned down halfway, he couldn’t even remember if he’d actually enjoyed any of the delicacy. He took another long draw of his 25 year aged whiskey, a luxury that he would normally have wanted to savor . . . but tonight he was just trying to numb the pain. All he could think about was his fight earlier with Emma and the nagging regret of how he should have reacted. He leaned forward and rested his elbow on his knee, massaging his fingers against his temple as he pondered his current predicament.

“Well I don’t know about you guys, but this sure is the wildest bachelor party I’ve ever been to!” Maxwell’s sarcastic outburst startled Drake from his thoughts. He looked around at his friends, all of whom were staring at him with concern and confusion.

“Maxwell, why don’t you make sure the group is entertained for a while. I’d like to talk with Drake.” Liam moved over to the leather couch to sit beside Drake. Maxwell proceeded provide a very detailed demonstration of how to “dab” to Rashad, Tariq and Bertrand, who all feigned interest in order give the two friends some privacy. Liam turned to face Drake. “Okay man, spill it. What’s going on with you? I know you love to sulk in the corner, but never when there’s Cubans and good whiskey involved.”

Drake smirked. Liam knew him too well, and he knew how to make him laugh when he needed it the most. “I’m starting to feel like I’m not cut out for this big wedding. I’m not you, I’m not used to all the grandeur and attention. And today I really lashed out at Emma . . . over some small wedding detail that I don’t even recall.” He shrugged his shoulders with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t want to disappoint her Liam, but I’m feeling very out of my league here. I’m worried that she’s going to regret marrying me.”

Liam let out a low whistle. “Hmm, sounds like someone is playing the “poor, pitiful me” card again.” Drake cut his eyes at Liam, who had a subtle grin spread across his lips. “But I don’t think you see what the rest of us see. When you and Emma are together, no one around could doubt that you two are meant to be together.” He looked down thoughtfully, clasping his hands together before continuing. “And as the man that tried to marry her myself, trust me when I say that she will never regret marrying you. Because she never looked at me the way she looks at you.”

Drake could not formulate a sufficient response. “Shit . . . Liam, I’m sor-“

“No Drake. Do not apologize.” Liam looked him in the eye now, using his stern “King” voice. “You promise me that you will love her and be the man she needs, the man she chose over becoming a queen . . . you make that promise, and you will never have reason to apologize. So you marry her in the royal abbey or a barn, it doesn’t matter. Because she wants to spend the rest of your lives together if you will let her.”

Drake felt Liam’s pain in his words, despite the authoritative tone. This was Liam’s permission and encouragement to marry Emma, if only he’d get out of his own damn way. After a lifetime of doubting his own worth, Drake had the woman of his dreams waiting to marry him. Who cares if they have to perform in a circus to get to the other side . . . wouldn’t all this be worth it at the moment the priest pronounced them ‘man and wife’? The thought of calling Emma his wife was enough to break his sullen exterior with a playful sneer.

“You know, I had always wanted to get married in a barn, but I guess the abbey will have to do.” Drake looked up at Liam with amusement, expressing the unspoken brotherly bond they had shared for 22 years. He extended a hand to Liam, who took it in his own in a firm handshake.

“Now that’s more like it.” Liam bellowed. “So, what would the groom like to do now? More whiskey, another cigar . . . perhaps a visit to the finest cabaret in town?” He nodded enthusiastically and wiggled his eyebrows at his final suggestion.

Drake chuckled, shaking his head. “No man, there’s only one girl in the world I want to see right now.”

“Good! That was a test. And you passed.” Liam patted him on the shoulder as he stood up. “Now let’s go get your girl!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Emma, Hana, Penelope, Olivia and Madeleine lounged in the private VIP section at the posh new club in town, le Pomme de Feu. Penelope and Hana were sipping champagne and giggling in the corner, Madeleine was sitting upright and frantically texting away on her phone and Olivia blatantly gawked at every good-looking male that walked by. Emma was trying to loosen up and laugh with Penelope and Hana, but her mind kept wandering back to Drake. She downed her second glass of champagne and poured herself another before returning to the conversation.

“So the trick to a perfect soufflé is simply timing. You have to be one with it, you just feel when it’s . . . Oh, excuse me.” Hana glanced at her buzzing phone and read the incoming text, a small smile spreading across her lips. She typed in a few lines as her friends observed.

“What is it?” Penelope inquired.

“Oh, nothing! Just a little note from Maxwell saying hello.” Hana’s eyes met Emma’s as she glanced up from her phone, then she quickly averted her line of sight and she shoved it back in her clutch. “So, where was I? Oh yes, the timing of a soufflé . . . .”

Just then, Emma heard a commotion behind her. She turned to find a partially-drunk Maxwell chatting up the bouncer to the VIP section. Apparently his methods of persuasion were not convincing, as the bouncer stood astutely blocking the entrance with his arms crossed. Maxwell continued to point in the direction of the bachelorette party and waved his arms to get their attention, but was politely hushed by Liam as he and Drake approached the bouncer. Liam shook the bouncer’s hand warmly and began a dialogue, then starting signaling for the other men to enter.

Drake remained at Liam’s side as he searched the crowd for Emma. Then he saw her and he could swear his heart skipped a beat. His eyes met hers across the crowd and a warm smile spread across her face. She was a sight to behold, wearing a tasteful but contemporary peachy-nude cocktail dress with sequined scalloped design over the fabric. Her long, dark hair was slightly wavy and pulled to the side over one shoulder, exposing her other sun-kissed shoulder accented by only a delicate strap. The hem hit at mid-thigh, revealing her lean, toned legs. God, she’s beautiful, he thought as they started to move towards one another.

“Hi.” She offered, gazing up at him.

“Hi.” He returned, suddenly realizing he should have planned out what he was going to say on the trip over.

“I’m sorry!” They both blurted out at the same time, then laughed at the awkwardness of their outbursts.

Drake reached for her hands and cupped them in his own, holding them tightly against his chest. “No, I’m sorry, Warner. I lost my patience today and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

“I get it Drake, I know that you’re struggling with the wedding. And to be honest, so am I.” Emma paused as Drake raised his eyebrows in question. “I kind of wish we could sneak away and elope, just us and our closest friends and family. That’s what I really want in my heart. But that’s not the card we were dealt, not with my new role in Valtoria and the current state of Cordonia. So my head is telling me that we need to do this.” She peered into his eyes, looking for a sign of understanding.

Drake leaned down and kissed her, a soft kiss of remorse and forgiveness. He pulled away with a gentle smile on his lips. “You know Warner, that’s why I love you. Because deep down we want the same things, but you also remind me that it’s not just about what we want. You make me a better man.”

“Well I think you were pretty damn great to begin with.” Emma hooked her arms around his neck and kissed him again, this time deeply. She felt an overwhelming feeling of relief and contentment wrapped in his arms, pressing her lips into his. It felt as if they were the only two people in the world . . .

“Hey guys, hey guys!” Drake and Emma were startled back to reality by a boisterous Maxwell, practically bouncing next to them. Drake rolled his eyes. “Ooooh sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt . . . that. But we got shots coming. You gotta get back over to our section!” Maxwell jabbed Drake in the shoulder as he grabbed Emma by the arm and dragged her back towards their lounge area. Emma threw a glance back to Drake over her shoulder and offered a quick nod for him to follow.

As the group gathered around the table, the waiter set out two rounds of tequila shots for everyone in the party. Drake settled in next to Emma, lacing his fingers through hers at his side. She beamed up at him, and a wave of certainty washed over him. This is it, she’s it for me. Forever. The feeling overwhelmed him and he felt the sudden urge to shout it from the rooftops. So he picked up a shot glass and did the next best thing.

“I’d like to propose a toast to this marvelous woman here, who for some unknown reason has agreed to be my wife.” Drake grinned at Emma beside him, tears beginning to accumulate in her eyes. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before continuing. “And to our wonderful friends. Thank you all for putting up with us and giving us that little extra push when we need it most.” He nodded to Liam then Hana in acknowledgment. He cleared his throat as he began to realize that everyone was waiting for his next move. “So now . . . we drink! Cheers!” He raised his shot glass before bringing it to his lips.

“Cheers!” “Slainte!” “Bottoms up!” The group exclaimed as everyone turned up their glasses and downed the fiery liquid.

The party continued on for some time, with more rounds of shots and drinks, a lot of laughing and plenty of dancing from most of the group. Of course, Drake much preferred watching Emma shaking on the dancefloor while sipping his whiskey than actually partaking in the dancing himself. But as an upbeat tune came on over the sound system, Emma grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her to the center of the floor. “I love this song. And you’re mine Walker.” She giggled as she lead him through the crowd, partially from the multiple rounds of drinks and partially from her own giddiness.

They found a spot with their friends, who were already hopping around to the uplifting music. Emma held Drake’s hands with hers in the air as she moved to the rhythm and started belting out the chorus. “I don’t care, I love it. I don’t care, I love it I love it!” Her energy was infectious and soon Drake found himself moving with her. They merged with the rest of the group and danced to the beat, laughing and singing the lyrics together. By the end of the song, Drake was breathless but exhilarated. He bent down to kiss Emma on the cheek, then whispered slyly in her ear “You dancing like that isn’t making it any easier to wait until our wedding night, Warner.” He smirked as her jaw dropped at his cheeky confession, gave her ass a playful pat before mouthing “I love you” and walking back towards their table.

“Wow, I can’t believe you convinced him to dance.” Liam said as he and Hana approached. “I don’t think I’ve seen him dance like that since . . . well, since ever!” The three of them laughed out loud, Emma shaking her head in astonishment.

“I’m glad I’ve got you two for a minute alone.” Emma peaked around, ensuring no one else was listening. “Hana, I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier about compromising on the wedding. And I’ve got an idea, but I’m going to need your help.”

~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued . . .

#drake x mc #drake walker #the royal romance #tmarie82 fanfic

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